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       The Collar, p.11

         Part #6 of Submissive series by Tara Sue Me
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  He gave a grunt of satisfaction. “Knowledge. Technique. Proper candles.” He took her hands and one at a time unclenched them, leaving them palm up on the table. “I’m not going to tell you where it’s going to land anymore. You have safe words if you need them.”

  His reminder soothed her. She knew she had safe words, but no one had ever been so consistent in reminding her of them. For some reason, that simple act made her feel safer.

  Three hot drops fell on her upper thigh. Two landed on her belly. And one dropped onto the valley between her breasts. Heat. She was surrounded by heat and it felt good.

  “Where to go next?” he teased. “I have your entire body to play with. Here, you think?” He ran a finger along her inner thigh, and she gasped, imagining wax there.

  “Here?” Warm air brushed her belly, but instead of wax, there was a sharp bite.

  She muttered a curse. He chuckled.

  “Or here?”

  Her right nipple was encased in liquid fire. His mouth covered the other and sucked her hard and deep. It was as if a line of heat ran straight from her breasts, down her sides, and joined in an aching throb between her legs. Her body shook.

  “Holy fuck,” she gasped.

  He blew a stream of air across her pussy, and she squirmed.

  He wouldn’t go there next, would he?

  She didn’t want him to.

  Yes, she did.

  No, she didn’t.

  Where was he?

  The heat zigzagged across her belly, shocking the nerve endings that hadn’t expected anything, and she cried out.

  “Still okay?”

  “Oh, God. Don’t stop.” The words rushed out without her even thinking them, and she surprised herself at how true they were. She wanted more heat. Needed it. Needed him. “Please.”

  “Please what?” The heat hit next in the inner crook of one elbow, followed quickly by the other.

  “Please, please, please.” She begged, desperate for something. She didn’t care if it was him or more wax, just something.

  He slipped a finger between her legs. “You’re wet.”

  “Yes.” Her hips jerked up in an attempt to get his finger deeper.

  A sharp slap landed on her thigh. “Be still.”

  “Sorry, Master,” she said, suddenly glad he’d had her close her eyes. She hated seeing him disappointed.

  “I don’t want your apology. I want your obedience.” He placed his finger at her lips. “Clean it.”

  The temptation to open her eyes was strong; she wanted to get a peek at him badly. To see if the disappointment had left. Instead, she sucked his finger inside her mouth and licked herself off. She’d rather it be his cock, but she’d take whatever part of himself he offered.

  “Enough,” he said, and he slipped his finger out.

  There was a rustling to her side and another match was struck. At once, her heart pounded and her body tensed. She’d thought he was finished. She tried to remember how many candles were on the table and forced her eyes to remain shut.

  “It pleases me to do this.” His voice was soft but laced with iron. “You will take it for me.”

  Oh, fuck. What did that mean?

  She yelped as hot rivers of wax ran over her midsection, pooled in her belly button, and dribbled down her sides. It barely cooled before another stream landed on the uncovered skin farther up her body. A third followed just as quickly. By the fourth, she was muttering uncontrollably. The fifth partially coated her breasts and was hot, so hot.

  She waited for the sixth, needed the sixth, ached for the sixth. Instead, she shrieked when Jeff pushed two fingers deep inside her and started fucking her with them. Slow and methodical and brushing her clit with every inward thrust.

  “Oh, God.” She was going to come. Had he given her permission? She couldn’t remember.

  His fingers went deeper, stroking that spot inside her, the one he knew made her come, and she couldn’t remember.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered. “Please let me come.”

  “I’m not God.” His lips were so close to her ear, she could almost feel them, and his breath heated her further. “I’m the devil himself, sent to torture your angelic body in ways you can’t imagine. And when I’m finished here, I’m going to fuck you so hard, so long, and so deep, you’ll only think you’re in heaven.”

  His touch. His words. “I can’t …”

  “Come for me, my wicked Angel. Come. Now.”

  He pushed a third finger inside her, biting her ear at the same time, and she shouted as her body shook with the force of her climax. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. He kept moving his fingers, and she whimpered when a second orgasm overtook her, jerking and arching her back.

  “Shhh,” he whispered, and she realized she’d been babbling. “Shhh. It’s okay. Open your eyes.”

  His lips were at her throat, placing kisses along her neck and whispering against her skin. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking in the low light. His face was the first thing she saw: dark hair, full lips, chiseled features, and questioning eyes.

  He stroked her cheek. “How do you feel?”

  “Wonderful. Sublime. Elated.”

  “That’s a lot of adjectives.”

  “My mind’s too fuzzy to pick just one.”

  He lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss, cupping her face gently. It was only a soft kiss, but she felt her need and desire for him rise again. Amazing what he could do to her with a simple touch.

  “You did great. Perfect,” he said, pulling back, his voice full of pride and love shining in his eyes. He brushed a hair away from her face.

  “Thank you, Master,” she said in a sigh. “Thank you.”

  “You might want to hold your thanks.” His smile was evil, and he picked up a flogger from the table and lifted it so she could see. “I still have to remove the wax.”

  Chapter Seven

  Present day

  Dena fell asleep in the passenger seat before Jeff pulled out of Daniel’s driveway. Jeff remembered from playing with her in the past how sleepy she became afterward. When she’d told him she wanted to discuss expectations before leaving, he’d known she was fighting a losing battle. As tired as she’d looked, any meaningful conversation would have to wait until morning. He remembered, too, how loopy she became when tired.

  He pulled onto the highway headed toward his cabin on the outskirts of town and glanced over at Dena. She’d leaned the seat back as much as the passenger side of his truck would allow. Her head was turned toward him in such a way that he could see her lips part slightly. The faint moonlight made her blond hair luminous.


  He had finally allowed himself to call her that the night he collared her. His sassy and sexy angel. When he thought back to their past, he still had a hard time believing a woman as wealthy and smart and beautiful as she was would want him—much less agree to wear his collar. Maybe he had never really been able to believe it. Maybe that was why it had been easy to let her go.

  He frowned. He hadn’t thought about it like that before.

  But it made sense. Hadn’t he always thought she was too good for him and that she’d realize it and leave? Did he take his collar back only because he didn’t want her to break up with him first? He hadn’t thought so at the time, but now, years removed, it made sense.

  She smiled in her sleep, and he remembered seeing the same smile the first time they’d played together, as she’d looked up from between his knees. The night she’d proved her point about how good she was.

  To this day she was the best he’d ever had.

  He pulled into his driveway, knowing he’d have some explaining to do when she saw the moving boxes. He needed to brace himself for the hurt he’d find in her eyes. The hurt at both his leaving and possibly the hurt knowing he’d stayed for her. Or maybe that would be guilt.

  He opened her door, unbuckled her seat belt, and scooped her into his arms.

  “Perfectly cap
able of walking,” she mumbled.

  “Humor me.”

  “You have no sense of humor.”

  He smiled, remembering that fatigue always left her uninhibited. “Then maybe I just like holding you in my arms and carrying you.”

  “Mmm.” She snuggled into his chest. “I like your arms. They’re hot in that shirt.”

  He grinned. “Good to know.”

  Propping her up on his knee, he unlocked his door and stepped inside. Fortunately, he’d left some lights on in anticipation of arriving home late. What he had not anticipated was arriving with the bundle he currently had in his arms.

  “Sheets on the bed are clean,” he said, carrying her down the hall to his guest room. “I know you’re a neat freak over things like that.”

  “Like you,” she mumbled. “Remember … dirty … fuck.”

  His cock hardened at her words. He wasn’t exactly sure which dirty fuck she was talking about. Hell, they’d had so many, and he was never one to be gentle.

  “I remember them all—trust me.”

  He pulled the sheets down and tucked her in.

  “Ass hurts,” she said.

  “I imagine it does. I’ll check it out in the morning.”

  She smiled. “Check my ass out.”

  “Good night, Dena.”

  “’Night, Master.” She snuggled into the bed, and his chest ached at the sight of her and the words she’d spoken.

  Instead of going to bed, he went into the living room, where a small desk sat in the corner. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he at least came up with a plan for finding out who was harassing Dena. He pulled out a notebook and a pen and jotted down his initial thoughts. There were several possibilities for who it could be, but he thought two most likely: someone she had prosecuted at work or someone trying to get to her father.

  Tomorrow he would look into some of her closed cases and start with the assumption it was work related. That would be relatively easy in that the scope of the search was limited. Especially when you compared it to what he would have to do if it turned out to be related to her father. Jeff knew the man had to have made his share of enemies over the years.

  Jeff considered himself a reasonable man. He got along with most people, though it helped that the majority of them simply left him alone. Dena had been the first person to really get under his skin. To know and understand him. How she came from the same genetic line as her father was a mystery he’d never solve.

  He’d never forget his first, and only, conversation with Senator Jenkins.

  He and Dena had been together only a few months when it had happened. He’d arrived at work one morning, and balancing the apple Dena insisted he eat on top of his files, he’d worked the lock with the other hand. He frowned when he got in, realizing he must have left the lights on all night.

  But when he saw the man sitting at his desk, he jerked back and nearly dropped everything.

  “Senator Jenkins?” he asked, recognizing Jenkins from his television appearances.

  “Jeffery Parks, I presume?”

  The guy spoke only those four words, but somehow managed to fit a world of disdain into them. Jeff disliked him immediately.

  “That’s what the name on the door says.”

  Jenkins ignored the barb and stood up. “You’ve led an interesting life, Parks.”

  Jeff shrugged, refusing to show any sign of surprise at Jenkins’s words. Dena’s father kept his gaze on Jeff, his look intense as he rose from his seat and started circling around him.

  “In and out of trouble with the police from an early age. Alcoholic mother. Absent father. High school dropout. Though you did somehow manage to get your GED eventually, didn’t you?”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t come all the way here to entertain me with stories of my past.”

  “I have one child, Parks.”

  “Dena.” Of course, he’d known that was why Jenkins was there.

  “She’s on track to become a superior court judge. She will be an exceptional one.”

  Dena had told him of her father’s obsession with her becoming a judge. She’d confessed to Jeff she had no interest in doing so because her passion was prosecuting criminal cases.

  “She’s an exceptional woman, Senator. I’m sure she’ll excel at whatever she decides to do.”

  The two men continued to size each other up.

  “Of course she will,” Jenkins finally said. “As long as she’s not … distracted.”

  “I suppose you consider me a distraction.”

  “She’s had a conservative upbringing; I won’t deny that. It’s expected she’ll feel the need to taste the other side. See what it’s about.”

  “I see. I’m the distraction from the other side.”

  “Whatever you are, you aren’t the same as us.”

  “You might want to run statements like that past your publicist before you make them. People tend to frown upon public officials drawing such class lines.”

  “I’m glad you find this conversation amusing.”

  “It’s the only thing keeping me from telling you to fuck off. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that Dena’s a grown woman, capable of doing whatever the hell she wants.” Jeff had felt it was past time for the visit to be over. He walked to his desk and sat down. “Thanks for stopping by. You can show yourself out.”

  But the senator wasn’t finished. “These are dangerous times, Parks. I hope you’re careful. So much senseless violence these days. So many unprovoked shootings.”

  The enormity of the words hit Jeff solidly in the chest, and several seconds passed before he could breathe. “Did you just threaten me?”

  “I did no such thing.” Jenkins headed toward the door but turned right before he opened it to say one more thing. “I’m simply suggesting that it might be more beneficial to your health if you looked elsewhere for companionship.”

  “Asshole,” Jeff had mumbled under his breath.

  Now, thinking back on that day, words didn’t exist to adequately convey the loathing he felt toward Senator Jenkins. And though he believed truth and honesty a pillar of any relationship, he’d never told Dena about the day he’d met her father.

  She might not get along with the man, but that was a long way from her knowing just how manipulative he was. Was it wrong of him to keep that knowledge from her? Maybe, but he told himself he was just protecting her.

  He brought his hand up to massage his temple, and when he did so, he caught the scent of Dena’s perfume on his fingers. He held still for a second and breathed her in. It didn’t seem possible she was in his house again, and he purposely didn’t let his mind wander to how it would feel when she left.

  With a sigh, he put the notebook away and headed to his bed with a heavy heart.

  Dena walked into Jeff’s kitchen the next morning, frowning. She had a sinking feeling she’d talked in her sleep the night before. No telling what she’d said and no telling if Jeff would tell her. Sometimes he would and sometimes he wouldn’t.

  He was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. He made horrid strong stuff, she remembered. “Morning”

  She nodded in reply. “Two questions. What’s up with all the boxes, and what did I say in my sleep?” It was downright embarrassing not remembering, but not knowing was worse.

  “I’ll tell you about the boxes after you have coffee. And ‘dirty fuck’ and ‘sore ass.’”

  She took the cup waiting for her on the counter and poured herself some. “This the same vile stuff as always?”


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