Mirror of My Soul by Joey Hill (book club recommendations .TXT) 📕

way that made her body grow even more full and heavy with need. His command of her while a willing, beautiful slave awaited her on his hands and knees downstairs released a dichotomy of reaction in Marguerite that was as overwhelming for a moment as a physical climax. She savored it, wondering at the way it spread heat over her skin, drew her nipples to hard points and made moisture gather at the gateway between her thighs.

She put her hands back to unfasten the bra he’d readjusted before she met Roland.

His gaze dropped as it came free and she eased the straps down her arms, entranced by how he watched her. She employed the same deceptively passive methods she

employed to rouse a sub, only this time she did it to tantalize the man she chose to call her Master.

She’d worn thong panties. For him. Enjoyed putting them on, easily imagining his hands as sensuous a touch as the light nylon. Pivoting on her toe, she reached back, hooked her hands in the side straps and took the panties down slowly, bending fully as her yoga practice allowed her to do. Once she had her head to her knees, she came up halfway, just enough to step out of them and loosen her hair. She straightened, tossing it back so it spilled down her bare back. Turning, she dropped the panties and stood 133

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before him naked, her clothes littering the floor, discarded with the casual indifference a Mistress would show.

His expression was one of complete absorption, his body tense, erection visible. He might very well decide to fuck her here and now before she went to Roland so the scent of his come would be on her. Primitive and direct, the leader of the pack making it clear to other males his claim on the alpha female. When more response trickled down her thigh, he moved, coming to her. Removing a handkerchief from his trouser pocket, he widened her stance with a nudge which caused her to grip his shoulder for balance. He put the cloth full against her, making her hold tighten, her lips part as she stared into his face, not wanting to look anywhere else.

“You’re ready to come already, aren’t you, angel?”

She nodded, lowered her gaze, her lashes fanning her cheeks as she reached

forward, stroked her knuckles over the hard length of him. “But I would go to my knees and give you pleasure first.” She wanted to, her mouth watering for it.

“You will, but not now. I want to watch you with Roland. Watch you handle him, bring him to screaming climax, begging to serve you.”

“So you know you can make me do the same?” A smile curved her lips. “That

stereotypical alpha male need to Dom the Domme?”

“Perhaps.” His lips were firm with sensual intent. “I want to watch that magic you do. That place you go and take a sub with you, bringing him a Nirvana he never knew was possible. And know that what’s getting you hotter and hotter is feeling me watching, that later tonight all that excitement and arousal you have will explode around my cock, my mouth, my hands. And when you do suck on my cock, I’m going to put a vibrator in you. Each time you rock forward it will drive into you so you’ll climax again as my come explodes in your mouth, over your breasts.”

She swallowed and wondered if he knew what power he could wield over her with

only words. Her fingers itched to touch him, but she curled them into her palms, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“Let me show you my gift. You can decide if it’s what you want to wear to dominate Roland.”

At her curious look, he shook his head. “I won’t command your actions as a

Mistress. I told you, I love watching you. I love your sheer artistry.” He picked up a blindfold from the bed and came to her, fixing it around her eyes, bringing his body close so he was pressed against her bare skin, his fingers whispering down over her hair, her shoulder blades. “I want to put my gift on you now for your own pleasure, to get the full effect. But if it doesn’t suit your purpose with Roland you can change.”

A moment later, he directed her to hold his shoulder and had her step into what felt like a pair of loose pants. He drew them up just to her hipbones and asked her to hold the edge of the waistband so they would not tumble back down her thighs.

“Either you’re a poor judge of sizes or I’ve lost a lot of weight since you last saw me.”

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His chuckle came from below, as he had apparently knelt to her left. “I’ve been around long enough to know there is no safe conversation for a man to have with a woman about her weight, good or bad. I’m not that gullible.”

His hand was at her hip. Feeling the pants tighten their hold on her there, she realized the pants laced all the way up the leg. He made a similar adjustment on the other side, getting the seams set where he wished before he began to draw the laces snug from hip to ankle. The seams for the back molded into the crease of her buttocks tightly enough that the cheeks would be clearly separated and defined as if she wore no clothes at all. The fabric felt like a wet latex. Her breath got a little shallow, not from the constriction but because of how it felt to have him dressing her, on one knee to her left, then her right, then behind her. He didn’t prohibit her from touching him, so she kept her fingers grazing over his shoulders, his hair, feeling his shoulders move under her touch