Read Online Bite the Bullet by Desiree Holt - Free Book Online

than that.
    “Now,” she snapped. Let’s see if you can fight this.
    Montana clenched her thighs, already feeling the flutters in her pussy and the first gush of liquid at the possibilities that stretched out before her.
    His eyes still locked with her, Clint slowly unbuttoned his shirt and draped it over the back of the chair.
    Her pulse beat jittered as she took in the broad expanse of tan chest with its thick matte of black hair and the wide nipples peeking out from its covering. He sat perfectly still, waiting for her next command, no visible sign of reaction except the pulse beating rapidly at the hollow of his throat and the tight sweep of his jaw.
    Clint ran his tongue over his lower lip and swallowed hard as if about to push himself over an invisible line.
    “Does my Mistress like what she sees?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
    Montana had to bite her lip to hide a smile. One step forward. He was accepting her role, at least for tonight.
    “Yes. You please me a great deal.” She lifted her mug and sipped from it, watching him carefully.
    She had so many questions she wanted to ask. When did he first discover he was a sexual submissive? Who had trained him? How many Mistresses had he served? Did he serve one now? What did he do when he wasn’t at Rawhide?
    “You should drink your coffee,” she said. “Before it gets cold. I like to watch the play of muscle in your throat when you swallow.”
    Obediently, he picked up the mug and took another large swallow. He had obviously shaved before coming to dinner tonight. His skin showed no stubble but a darkening that said, without the late shave, a shadow of beard would have formed.
    Unable to help herself, she rose from the table and went to stand beside him.
    “Push your chair back,” she demanded.
    Obediently, he used his booted feet to shove back from the table, giving her free access to him.
    Her hand reached out, almost as if it had a mind of its own, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the column of his neck. Idly, they trailed over his shoulder and down to his chest.
    “Put the mug down and link your fingers behind your head.
    Keep them there.”
    Wordlessly, he did as she said. Interestingly, he kept his eyes on her face, not lowering them as subs usually did unless permitted to do otherwise. So. A little bit of resistance to absolute control. That’s what she kept sensing. Seeing in his distant gaze. Heat sizzled through her veins as she thought about pushing him past that. Getting him to cede ultimate control to her. Breaking whatever it was she could see lurking in his eyes.
    She brushed her fingers through the soft, springy curls on his chest, finding his hard male nipples. Taking one between two fingers, she pinched. Not hard, just enough to elicit a reaction.
    “I have a pair of nipple clamps that would fit these just perfectly.” Her own nipples tingled at the thought of it.
    “Would you like me to do that? You could wear them while we have another cup of coffee.”
    She waited for his answer, knowing what he said would determine just how much he wanted to push through whatever had been holding him back.
    “Well?” she prompted. “Have your other Mistresses clamped them? For their pleasure as well as yours?”
    Again his tongue traveled over his lower lip, leaving just a think sheen of moisture.
    I want to take that lip and suck it into my mouth.
    Montana mentally shook herself, made herself wait for Clint to reply.
    “I’m waiting for your answer,” she told him. “And my patience is wearing thin. Give me an answer or put your shirt on and go home. And forget about having coffee or anything else with me again.”
    She saw the muscle twitch in his jaw and the ones in his arms bunch as he tightened the grip his fingers had on each other.
    “Yes.” The word came out on an exhalation of breath.
    “Yes, what? Yes, you want to leave? Yes, you want the clamps? Yes, other Mistresses have clamped you?”
    “No, I don’t want to leave.”