Submission by Ella Ardent Page A

watched her, fascinated by the sight of her arousal.
    He decided to push her a little
more.
    He caught Joanna’s shoulders in
his hands and drew her closer, letting her breasts bump against his chest. He
was taller than she was, broader and stronger, and she was bound. He was
wearing leather, supposedly her fantasy. He slid his hands down to her elbows
and back to her shoulders, holding her in a resolute grip, reminding her of her
helplessness as he held her against him. Her lips worked as if she would
protest, but had been warned of consequences if she did.
    “Welcome to the Plume,” he
murmured, using his deepest, darkest voice. He felt her tremble in his embrace.
“I am the Master. Now you’re mine.”
    Joanna trembled in his grip,
licked her lips.
    “I threatened to give her to
Rafael if she talked,” Athena contributed amiably. “Maybe we still should.”
    “Maybe I’ll let him share,” Rex
murmured. He kept running his hands over Joanna, showing her that she was a
possession, his possession.
    Joanna gasped at his words, her
cheeks turning red with outrage.
    Rex chuckled, knowing that he’d
found a secret, perhaps one he could work with. “It’s not up to you,” he
murmured.
    Joanna’s blush deepened and she
looked discomfited now. He fully expected that she would bail soon and demand
release.
    But he’d have one kiss first, the
one he’d been dreaming of for years.
    He hauled her closer and caught
the back of her head in one hand, enjoying the contrast of his strength with
her femininity. He liked the look of his dark skin against her fair skin, the
look of the black leather glove around her pale nape. She was so slender, so
delicate that he could have broken her – instead he caressed her, letting
her feel his power and that he had it in check. He felt possessive and
powerful, yet tender as well.
    She trembled, wobbling slightly in
those fabulous heels. She smelled like the body lotion they gave all the
recruits, the familiar mingled with the distinctive perfume of her own body.
    Sweet and hot and low.
    As potent as dynamite and as
pervasive as cinnamon.
    He wrapped his other arm around
her waist, pulling her to her toes, crushing her against him. He lifted her
toes almost from the ground. He ensured that she felt the size of his erection,
watched her lips part in surprise, before he bent and kissed her.
    It was a thorough kiss, a mark of
ownership, a kiss that gave fair warning of his intent to take her submission
at its word. He kissed her open-mouthed, demanding more, claiming and
possessing and asserting his claim over her body. It should have terrified
Joanna. It was sure to make her bolt.
    She stiffened in surprise, made to
close her mouth against him, then seemed to think better of it.
    Remembering her cover story,
maybe.
    He felt her heart skip, the thud
of it against his chest.
    He smelled her arousal.
    And he felt something change. She
shuddered, right to her toes, then stretched against him and opened her mouth
to him. The gesture sent fire through his blood.
    She was his for the taking. Whether
it was real or feigned, Rex didn’t care.
    He deepened his kiss, sampling and
savoring her, taking more with his tongue and teeth. She kissed him back,
grinding her breasts against his chest, her tongue tangling with his as if
she’d been born to be his sex slave.
    The members gave a cheer.
    Rex broke his kiss, framing her
face in his hands and holding her so that she was on her toes. She wasn’t quite
able to balance unless she leaned against him. When her breasts collided with
his chest, she sighed. Then she licked her lips again, that tongue dancing over
the swollen redness of them, the sight shorting out his brain.
    Joanna as his sex slave.
    Just because Rex wanted it to be
true didn’t make it so. He had responsibilities. He had to think of the Plume
and its membership and his job of defending the borders. His own desire
couldn’t be the undoing of everything.
    She was a journalist.
    There