Natural Law by Joey W. Hill Read Free Book Online Page A

focus, because she had hit one of the harder bits of his head with the softer ones of hers. Barring that, she’d been forced to put some power behind it. She was proud that her hand did not pause in its motion, working him even more intently.
    Despite the pain she knew she’d caused him, his body was responding to her demand, focusing on the pleasurable goal happening below his waist.
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    He tried to twist away, but with his shoulders raked up, he was limited in how fast he could move, and she stayed easily with him, sensing victory in her hand.
    “You’ll come for me now, Mackenzie. Spurt yourself into my fingers like a teenager unable to control his hard-on. I can feel it coming. Let go.” She pulled a kerchief from the top of her stocking, just under the lace top, and hooded him with it as his body began to buck. His seed thickened the vein beneath her fingertips. As a warm trickle of blood slid down her neck where he had bitten her, her own reaction wet her thighs.
    His body lunged forward, the ring bolts clanging harshly against the pull of the tethers. He snarled, his semen shooting forth into the doubled square of cloth. Some of it jetted past the cover, dampening her wrist, and the potent, erotic smell spurred her desire. Violet couldn’t take her attention from his face, watching the battle of a powerful man against his own body, against the emotional vulnerability she had pressed on and forced from him through the uncontrolled physical release.
    The orgasm was fast and intense, and left him shuddering, the wide chest expanding to take in air. “Whoa, there,” Violet leaned her body into his to give him some support. He was double her weight in muscle, but the leaning worked, and gave her the excuse to hold him in her arms. She liked the way he felt there, and caressed the line of his back just above his waist, the firm, damp skin. She gave herself a moment, because she liked it so much, then she made herself do what she had to do.
    She released him abruptly. She folded the kerchief over and dropped it on the chair seat. Moving behind him, she loosened one wrist cuff enough that he could free himself.
    “We’re done,” she said.
    “What?” he straightened.
    “You can get yourself loose from there.”
    “But, Violet, what—”
    She stopped him with a level look. “You look me up when you want a Mistress, Mac. Instead of someone to jerk you off, or someone you can jerk around. I’m not interested.”
    “What the hell game are you playing?” he said, his brows drawing over his eyes in a way she was certain would intimidate the hell out of most people. She merely lifted a brow.
    “I’d ask the same of you, if I cared. You’re good, Mackenzie. You’re very, very good. You’d make almost any Mistress within these walls think you’re playing the game the way it should be played. A little rebelliousness mixed with the charm, the subservience. If I’d wanted a trained pony, I’d have gone to the circus.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Of course you don’t.” She turned away, picked up her boots and the kerchief. One step to the door. Two steps. Three. Brisk, no dragging, her intention obvious.
    “Wait.” She stopped at the door, but did not turn. She just waited.
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    “Don’t leave. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
    She closed her eyes to compose herself, to conceal the quick surge of triumph and lust that the rough, angry confusion in his voice roused in her. There was more to him than met the eye, as she had suspected.
    Rotating on her heel, she faced him, sweeping his delectable body with an expression that did not reveal a trace of how she felt looking at him standing there, the jeans and underwear shoved down to his thighs, his chest bare, the wrists still held in restraints. “That’s part of what you’re doing wrong. You’re so worried about right and wrong. You’re trying to control the situation, Mackenzie. Who controls