[Siren Classic: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, spanking, whipping, erotic lactation involving secondary characters, sex toys, HEA]
When Belinda Jones, a young and talented jockey, rides Rockstar to victory in the Kentucky Derby despite his one blind eye, Matt Jackson knows he has to have her for himself. Although Matt had tried to hire her to ride for his own racing stable, Belinda won’t desert Eden Creek Farm and Rockstar in his bid to be the first horse in thirty-five years to win the Triple Crown of Thoroughbred Racing. Belinda is mightily attracted to Matt, one of the members of the very private, luxurious BDSM club known as Le Club Laurel Oak–Ocala, located in an old Victorian mansion in the historic district of Ocala, Florida. Matt and Ross Hamilton, Rockstar’s trainer, have a long-standing history of competition in the Thoroughbred racing world. Matt’s horse, Perfidy, may be the one to deny the Hamiltons the elusive Triple Crown, but can Belinda deny Matt her heart?
A Siren Erotic Romance
4 RINGS: "Belinda and Matt are such a heady, intense couple. Albeit a little bashful, she is nonetheless willing to attempt some aspect of BDSM and Matt’s oh-so-willing to take her down that road. The tension between the pair before they even kiss is so molten I experienced a bit of knee-buckling relief and pleasure when they finally succumbed to the inevitable. One of the best stories in this series. I’m ready for more!" -- Bella, Fallen Angel Reviews
As the limousine pulled up in front of the mansion, Belinda straightened the skirt of her sleek, black Donna Karan sheath, fluffed out her mass of long, wavy red hair, which she usually wore in a French braid, picked up her clutch, and prepared to get out of the car. The chauffeur walked around and opened her door. She swiveled her hips, and her shapely, well-muscled legs tipped with three-inch, black spike heels were on the driveway as the handsome young chauffeur helped her out of the car. She stood up and looked straight into the eyes of Matt Jackson who stood on the porch smoking a cigar. Hot damn! What’s he doing here? He certainly wouldn’t be invited to the Hamilton’s Derby party.
Matt gave her one of his enigmatic smiles, nodded his head, and said, “Good evening, Belinda. You look lovely tonight. Congratulations on your wins last week. I hadn’t heard whether you enjoyed the roses I sent you.” He smiled wolfishly. It made her feel like prey on the open prairie with no place to hide. Matt Jackson was very good-looking in a rather harsh and ruthless way. His wasn’t a comfortable face, but it was compelling. He was tall and muscular with wavy, dark-auburn hair streaked with flashes of gold and dark evergreen eyes that looked almost black in the evening light.
“Thank you. The roses were lovely, but as you know, I received quite a few of them last week.” She brushed past him and into the lobby of the club. She was so shaken by seeing him unexpectedly that she barely took in the elegant décor of the lobby. She was normally not a rude woman, but something about that man rubbed her the wrong way and set her nerves on edge and her hormones flooding!
The desk clerk saw that she was disoriented and took her arm. “Let me get your signature on the paperwork, Ms. Jones, and then I can show you to the Hamilton table in the garden. By the way, congratulations on your wins last week. Most of the staff here placed bets on you and Rockstar and, needless to say, at forty-to-one, were very pleased with the results.”
Belinda gave the required confidentiality agreement a quick glance, signed it, and then she smiled at the desk clerk. She was grateful that he was grounding her and letting her focus on him and get her breath back before she had to join the party. “Thank you. I’m glad it worked out for everyone. I have to admit that I had a small wager myself,” she said with a grin. As the clerk guided her out on to the veranda and down the steps into the beautiful blooming garden, she caught her breath and began to calm down. I don’t know why he always affects me that way. He makes me feel like a mare in heat. It must be pheromones or something.
* * * *
Matt Jackson leaned back against the white railing, stretched out his long legs, and took another puff on his cigar before tossing it into the bushes. He knew his appearance was intimidating. His high cheekbones and hawkish nose harkened back to the Cherokee heritage a few generations back on his mother’s side and gave his face a slightly exotic Native American cast. He smiled speculatively as he crossed his arms over his muscular chest and watched Belinda’s cute little backside as she walked away from him. Her butt has a nice sway but no jiggle. Too bad. I like a little jiggle. Her legs aren’t bad either, for a little redheaded spitfire of a woman. He didn’t know why he found the little jockey so fascinating. He couldn’t help yanking her chain every chance he got. She wasn’t even his type—not by a long shot. He liked a tall, statuesque blonde with a good rack and a great ass—an obedient one who made a lot of noise during sex. As one of the founding members of Le Club, he was known to be a strict Dom, although he did not think he was overly cruel. He grinned to himself. I wonder if she’s a screamer or a moaner? It could be interesting to find out.
Matt walked around Belinda and inspected her naked body. He ran his hands over her small but prominent breasts and over her round bottom. “You please me very much, sub. You have a beautiful little body.” He picked up a riding crop from the credenza. How had she failed to notice that little item? Maybe because a crop was so much a part of her everyday equipment—but not to be applied to her butt, surely.
Matt ran the crop over her back, down over her butt and past to the backs of her thighs. He flicked a sharp little stinging strike with the end of the crop against the rounded part of her right butt cheek. She gasped and jerked away. She looked at him questioningly but had the good sense not to speak without permission. She was learning, and he did, after all, have a crop in his hand. This would not be a good time to test his patience.
He followed the same path again, and this time struck her left butt cheek. The strike stung but was really not much in the way of pain. Belinda was beginning to breathe heavily, and her heart was beginning to pound with excitement. He looked directly into her eyes as he ran the crop between her legs, over her pussy, and between her labia, coating the crop with her cream. She had never experienced anything so sensuous in her life. She began to moan. Lust sparkled in her blood like bubbles in fine champagne.
“Silence, sub. You have not been given permission to speak or to come. Be still.” He administered a slightly harder strike again to the right butt cheek.
Oh, boy. This is getting serious. She didn’t know if she would be able to control her reaction, and she remembered the spanking she had gotten the last time for coming without permission. She was not a wuss, and it had nothing to do with being a pushover, absolutely nothing. She just really didn’t want to find herself over his knee with her butt up in the air and the riding crop across her ass. At the thought of that possibility, she felt the throb between her legs intensify almost beyond bearing. She couldn’t even close her legs to tamp down the spears of pleasure that ran to her pussy. She realized she was pretty much helpless and at his mercy.
Matt knelt down in front of her and flicked the nipple clamps again. If she had not been suspended from the chains, she did not think she could have stayed on her feet. He ran his big hands down from her breasts to her pussy and played with her throbbing clit. He pushed his hot tongue between her labia and into her tight channel, and she was lost. She screamed as the orgasm ripped through her body.
“I told you I could make you scream,” he said. The after tremors rocked her to her very soul. She hung from the chains now, unable to stand. Matt quickly released her ankles and wrists and picked her up in his arms. He walked to a large upholstered chair in the corner of the room and sat down with her in his lap. He pulled a velvet throw from the back of the chair and wrapped her in it as he cuddled her against his chest. He held her like that for what seemed to Belinda like hours but was probably only a half hour or so.
When she began to regain her senses, she buried her face in his strong, corded neck. He brushed the hair back from her face and kissed her eyes, her cheeks, and finally her mouth. “Better? I really didn’t expect such a strong reaction so early in your training. You know you earned a punishment for coming without permission, but we’ll table that for now. Let’s just say I owe you one.”
“Thanks a lot, Master,” she snarked but without too much heat. It was hard to be grumpy when she had just experienced the strongest orgasm of her life, and it was still bubbling through her system. She wiggled her butt against his impressive hard-on just to get a little of her own back.
“Don’t push me right now, sub.” The timbre of his voice dropped again. “I’m on the edge here and trying to be patient. I’d like nothing better than to bend you over that spanking bench and bury my cock to the hilt in your hot pussy. Let’s take these clamps off for now. After a while, they can get very uncomfortable.”
Belinda gasped as he released first one clamp and then the other, and blood flooded back into the sensitive peaks. He took her pebbled nipples into his mouth to ease the unexpected pain. Her nipples were tender and achy, and her clit pulsed with renewed desire. The steel-hard cock pressing against her bottom reminded her that he had yet to have his release. She looked at him with inquiry in her eyes and said, “May I touch you, Master?”
“I thought you’d never ask, sub.”