This Scene Takes Place

Right After Rachel Confronts

the Ripper for the Last Time

at the Savoy

“Bedroom, naked, now,” Holmes growled.

She knew he wasn’t happy with her. Truth to tell, she didn’t blame him. She still wasn’t sure why she’d taunted the apparition. Certainly, it wasn’t something she’d planned, although she doubted the argument of ‘planned versus spontaneous’ was going to make much difference in Holmes’ response to her actions.

But that damned thing had been terrorizing her for over a week and apparently thought to use her to come back into the world so it could begin another murderous spree. When she’d stepped forward to goad the Ripper with his timepiece, she’d wanted a little payback. She’d wanted it to know they were on to him. She only hoped Saoirse was right and that they could get the banshees to haul its sorry ass to someplace it could never escape again—and if they could throw in a little torment and horror, so much the better.

Rachel considered her options. Holmes had told her to go into the bedroom and get naked, but that’s all he’d said. He hadn’t given her instructions on whether she was to be sitting on the bed or what. She shook her head at the ridiculousness of her situation. Here she was, facing some kind of weird reincarnation or second coming of Jack the Ripper. All her attention should have been focused on finding a way to defeat it. And yet, she’d taken the time to do a little bit of research about D/s relationships first.

Holmes had said he’d teach her correct protocol for the club. Rachel had to admit a part of her looked forward to visiting and playing at Baker Street. She knew the proper way for a sub to present herself to her Dom was on her knees with her legs spread wide, her hands resting on her thighs and her head down. Thankfully, Holmes had indicated that, at least at home, she could kneel on the bed instead of the hard floor. But she felt that making the extra effort to show her submission might not go unnoticed.

Removing her clothes, Rachel crawled up onto the bed and readied herself for what was to come. She wasn’t looking forward to being spanked, although she knew her stiffened nipples weren’t just from the Savoy’s excellent HVAC system. But she wasn’t afraid. She knew Holmes would never truly hurt her. He might leave a lasting sting when he disciplined her, but usually even that added to the pleasure he inflicted afterward. Her nipples tightened even more, and she could feel her pussy softening and getting wet for him. No two ways about it—Michael Holmes and his dominance turned her on in a way nothing and no one had ever done before. She lowered her head and waited.

It wasn’t long before she heard the sharp inhalation of his breath as he entered the room. He said nothing, and she resisted the urge to look up. That became harder when she heard him go to the walk-through closet and open something. The need to know ratcheted up another couple of ticks when she heard him slap something against his hand.

“Don’t think that presenting yourself to me in such a perfectly submissive manner is going to save you, because it won’t.”

Okay, so she’d frightened him to the point that he wanted some distance between her discipline and his bare hand. She was glad she was learning the subtext in Holmes’ words but was beginning to think she might have pushed him too far.

He placed the end of the crop under her chin and lifted her head so that his eyes bored directly into hers. “If the Ripper wasn’t tethered to you, Sage wouldn’t be the only one staying home tomorrow. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I wanted a little payback. I didn’t consider how that might affect you. Upon reflection, I should have, and I’m sorry you’re so upset with me.”

“What makes you think I’m any more upset than I’ve been the other times you earned yourself a punishment?”

“The crop. In the past, you’ve always used your hand. I figured if you wanted to avoid the intimacy of your hand, you had to be frightened as well as pissed.”

Holmes nodded. “At least we understand each other.”

He ran the crop down the column of her throat and between her breasts. He circled first one and then the other, before drawing it across from side to side to tease her aching nipples. Then he let the crop drop down to her clit. He brushed across it, and she hissed, not in pain but in anticipated pleasure. God, this man could do things to her. He teased the crop at her labia before slapping her pussy with enough sting that desire surged through her body.

“I want you on your forearms and knees,” he said, watching her intently.

His calm voice and more relaxed posture were good signs. She had angered and frightened him, but that was beginning to dissipate. She fully expected she was about to learn how much she hated having him use a crop, but that knowledge did little to quell her raging libido.

She’d barely gotten into position so that her ass was the highest point of her body, when Holmes struck her upturned globes with the crop, the sharp crack almost as riveting as the pain—almost. She’d been right about the crop. After he struck her twice more, Rachel became certain it was something she never wanted to experience again. Twice more the damned thing struck the fleshiest part of her ass.

“I’m sorry, Holmes,” she gasped as she shuddered, but she wasn’t sure what had driven the primitive reaction—pain or pleasure.

“Good to know.”

He continued to smack her backside and struck her twice across her upper thighs, making her cry out. Each time the crop struck, she trembled beneath its fiery kiss and then relaxed because she knew what would come when he was done. Rachel understood he did this as much for himself as for her and that being with him meant submitting to him and accepting his discipline and his dominance.

He tossed the crop onto the bed and stepped back. “We’re done,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Had she pushed him too far? Was she about to lose the best thing that had ever happened to her? Rachel flipped over, wincing when her backside hit the soft mattress. He was standing, looking down at her, pinning her in place with only his stare. He moved back between her legs, unbuckling his belt and opening the fly of his trousers. His huge cock jutted out. It was small comfort that he got as turned on as she did when he punished her.

He reached under her thighs, lifting her lower torso up and pulling her to him, impaling her pussy on his rigid shaft—as if it were a mighty sword and her sheath was the scabbard made only for him. Her entire body arched with surrendered need as she cried out his name. He groaned heavily.

Holding her steady, Holmes began thrusting in and out of her. There was no foreplay, no finesse, just the expression of a dominant lover claiming what was his. His cock scraped along her inner walls, making them shiver in need. Her body responded by tightening in anticipation of what she knew was coming. This wouldn’t be gentle, but it would be immensely satisfying and would restore the balance in their relationship.

Desire blazed through her body like a wildfire out of control. Holmes pounded into her with a hard, fast rhythm. She capitulated to her need for this man and all he was coming to mean to her. She felt the collar around her neck and brought her hands up to hold his, her ring sparkling in the light. Stroking his hands in supplication, she let him feel her submission in every way. Her fingers tightened, and everything within her careened over the abyss into an ecstasy she had only experienced with him.

Holmes fucked her through her orgasm, pummeling her pussy, grunting and groaning as he did so—the sound a combination of anger, lust and enormous pleasure. His thrusting was hard, deep and fast. He seemed to revel in the way she writhed in his hands. Her spirit soared and floated free as he drove into her again and again, making sure she felt each and every stroke.

He hammered her in a savage and frenzied manner, letting his body tell her the depths to which she’d frightened him. She realized he meant to ensure that she obeyed him, not out of some need of his own to dominate, but of her own need to submit. She’d never wanted anyone the way she wanted Holmes. She didn’t just want the physical; she wanted it all—physical, mental and emotional. Rachel knew he didn’t just desire the surrender of her body and mind but wanted her heart and soul as well.

Holmes thrust into her, her vaginal walls shaking and quivering from the intense pleasure she took even from this rough coupling. Her breath sped up as she moaned and gloried in the way her body came alive under his almost brutal use of her. Her rapid, thready breathing began to synchronize with his rhythmic pounding. As his cock became more engorged, her impending orgasm raced to the fore, sweeping over her with a breathtaking intensity.

He allowed his head to tilt back as he relished her capitulation and submission. Holmes held her close as he shoved his staff to the depths of her sheath, holding her hard against him as he flooded her, coating every inch of her pussy with his cum.

Spent, Holmes fell forward, collapsing on her, allowing her to take his full weight before maneuvering her up onto the bed, even as her pussy clamped down, milking his cock for every last bit of pleasure she could get from him.

“Never again, Rachel. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir. I love you, Holmes. I have no desire to ever be parted from you.”

He lifted his head. His baser needs—to dominate and to fuck—met, he grinned down at her, brushing her hair off her face.

“You scared the shit out of me. Don’t you ever do something that reckless again.”