Edge of the Enforcer

by Cherise Sinclair

  Not yet. He was hard already, but he needed more than a fuck tonight. “I’m going to hurt you, Lindsey.” His voice almost guttural. “Red is your safeword. Yellow if you need it.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She was breathy with an erotic mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

  After dropping the toy bag beside her, he set out the impact toys he’d use. Warm up first.

  After wakening her skin with a light flogging, gentle slaps, and massage, he upped the ante with a heavier flogger.

  Her back and ass turned pink, and at length, a pleasing red. The occasional gasp from her was like liquid gold sliding into his gut. More.

  Needing to remind her of who was the top, he leaned against her from behind and rubbed his cock between her buttocks. Her shiver made him grin. Made him enjoy not having dressed for the scene.

  Pulling her back from the wood of the headboard, he cupped her breasts. Kneaded them cruelly. Pinched the nipples until her breathing hitched and he could hear a protest deep in her throat.

  With his other hand, he curved his palm over her mound, pressed down on her clit, and shoved a finger—two fingers—into her cunt. Slickly wet. She was enjoying everything he’d done so far.

  He’d barely gotten started.

  OH MY EFFING God. Lindsey bowed her head as blows rained down on her back. He was using a flogger with a multitude of thick, heavy falls. Each impact drove deep into her bones and set her skin on fire.

  He’d put clamps on her nipples, tightening them until she couldn’t keep from pulling away.

  Every strike of the flogger shoved her forward to hit the nipple clamps against the headboard. And hurt. All of her hurt, and it wasn’t fun anymore. But she could feel his need as if her own—and her own need was to give him everything.

  Her face was wet with tears. With sweat. Owwww. She gritted her teeth to keep from using her safeword, from screaming, from crying. Instead, she braced her forehead against the wood so he wouldn’t see how she felt. She’d take it—she’d endure anything if he got what he needed.

  It took her a second to realize he’d stopped. A hand on her cheek turned her face to the heat of his gaze.

  Dismay filled her as she realized his tight face held none of the peace he displayed when he flogged masochists at the club.

  “You’re done, babe,” he muttered.

  “No.” Her voice wavered past the sobs stuck in her throat. “I didn’t use my safeword.”

  His thumb stroked her wet cheek. “Think I’m blind? Scene’s over.”

  “But you—”You aren’t done. Not even close.

  “Shhh. Let me get you free.” He opened each Velcro cuff with a quick, frustrated yank.

  More tears spilled over her lids as she realized she couldn’t give him what he needed.

  “Turn around.” He steadied her, his palms warm on her upper arms. “Hold still now.” With unnaturally controlled movements, he removed the clamp from her left nipple and, without waiting, did the right.

  Like a one-two step, blood rushed back into the abused tissues, burning and engorging each nipple. She groaned, moved to cover her breasts.

  “No.” He held her wrists at her sides as he drank in her pain. Pleasure glinted in his eyes. “Nice.”

  Her gaze clung to his, as if he were reeling her in like a fish on a line. Everything in her pleaded to ease the strain in his face. “Take what you need, Sir. Please.”

  When his lean fingers touched her cheek, she saw the answer in his expression—she couldn’t give him what he required.

  “You’re what I need, pet.” Hand around her nape, he guided her to the side of the bed and bent her over the mattress. Under his firm touch and the suggestive position, her pain coalesced into something entirely different—into a raging need. She might hate really hurting, but rough sex lit her up like a fireworks display. And God, he knew that. Used it.

  Running his hands over her back and butt, he fingered the slight welts, making her squirm. “Such a pretty ass. I’m going to admire my work while I fuck you.” When he squeezed the tender, reddened buttocks, she sucked air through her teeth.

  A small pleading sound escaped her.

  “Oh yeah, you’ll get what you need, Tex.” As his callused hands spread her open, he dragged his cock against her entrance and pressed slightly inside.

  Her clit throbbed in anticipation. Her pussy felt sensitive and needy—and very wet.

  His laugh was harsh. His hard palm smacked her right buttock. Ow, ow, ow. As the burn seared through her, he gripped her hips and ruthlessly sheathed himself to the hilt.

  Too big. Too fast. Her insides spasmed in protest, and lights burst in front of her eyes. “Aaaaa!” Mindlessly, she pushed up, trying to escape.

  A hand fastened on her nape, holding her down on the bed. “Take it, babe.”

  His merciless grip turned her core molten. As her pussy pulsed around him in protest—and pleasure—he kicked her legs farther open, rendering her more helpless, and hammered into her. Each hard, inescapable thrust stretched her insides, pushed her deeper into the mattress, rubbed her hurting nipples and her clit on the coarse cotton spread.

  Trapped. Her mind went blank as he forced her to take it, to feel it, to enjoy his use. A slap on her bottom sent more fire arcing through her. Her back arched—and he kept her pinned to the bed.

  Abruptly, he withdrew and instead swirled his fingers in her wetness. Even as his cock drove in, he centered a slick finger against her asshole.

  Instinctively, she fought to escape.

  His grip tightened on her nape. His thick shaft pushed in deeply, pinioning her. “Don’t. Move.”

  At the sound of the growling baritone, her insides clenched around him.

  His hand moved from her neck to her hip, restraining her as he forced his finger past the rim of muscles, using only her own wetness as lubrication. The abrasion burned. Yet, like the thumping sound of massive lights coming on in a sports stadium, every nerve in her pelvis ignited.

  He didn’t move, his weight on her increasing, deliberately pointing out that she was pinned. That both her anus and vagina were penetrated. That she had no control

  The sound she made was an animal’s—a needy animal.

  “Yeah, there we go,” he muttered. His shaft slammed into her; his finger shoved into her anus. Cock withdrew. Then the finger. And again.

  The ball of need inside her tightened, clamping down around him. Her legs trembled, her hands clenched on the bedspread. Her world narrowed to his finger. His cock, over and over.

  More. Needed more. She wiggled, pushed up—

  He slapped her bottom so hard the sound echoed in the room. Pain burst and burned into her like a wildfire of sensation sweeping everything before it. Uncontrollable pleasure ripped apart her senses, shaking her like branches in a wind, electrifying every nerve. Oh God—too much. She twisted under him, needing more, needing less, spasming, crying. Falling into a whirlpool of sensation.

  Slap! His palm struck her buttocks, his cock slammed into her, his finger penetrated her. Again and again.

  “Nooooo.” The molten heat surged into her center, up her spine and belly, and she kept coming and coming, unable to stop.

  With both hands, he gripped her hips, lifting her ass higher as he pounded into her and released with a growl.

  * * * *

  DeVries woke early with Lindsey’s soft body cradled to his front. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her close. Sweetest teddy bear he’d ever known. Her breath was warm on his chest. Slowly, he inhaled her tangy sweet fragrance that mingled with the lingering scents of raw sex and the cream he’d rubbed into her skin.

  After their session last night, he’d taken his time with aftercare, washing her, tending the marks he’d put on her—and enjoying her squirming—then rocking her as she fell asleep. Felt like he’d come home.

  Considering his exhaustion, he should have slept longer. But, even though his body was sated, the knot of tension inside him hadn’t subsided. No
t the way a good S/M scene at the club would have accomplished.

  Fuck, she’d tried.

  Remorse scraped his already raw nerves. He’d satisfied her, he knew. Hell, she’d come as hard as any woman he’d ever seen and lavished him with grateful kisses when she recovered. His guilt was because he realized he’d flogged her longer and harder than he should have. Dammit, he’d known she’d try to take more than she really wanted. He just hadn’t realized she’d attempt to disguise her pain from him.

  She was going to get her butt walloped for not being honest with him…once he unwound to where he could deal. Fuck, his gut was tight. His emotions were a tangled mess, ready to snap.

  After easing out of bed, he yanked on a pair of running shorts from his bag and headed out into a foggy San Francisco dawn.

  * * * *

  The biscuits were almost done. Hair damp on her shoulders, Lindsey finished cooking the scrambled eggs and bacon. Upstairs, the shower was still running. Back from his jog, Zander had found her in the kitchen, given her a quick kiss, and muttered he needed a scrub up.

  Worry simmered under her happy mood. As late as they’d been up, he should have slept longer. Instead he’d gone running—and he never ran in the mornings. He always went to the gym after he got off work.

  Taking her time, she set the table and poured juice and coffee. Her appetite kept decreasing.

  Happily, as he came down the stairs, he was smiling. “Gotta admit, I missed your breakfasts last week.”

  The compliment sent her spirits soaring…but not enough. As he sat down across from her, she studied him. He’d had a night of sex. Gone running. He should look relaxed and satisfied. Instead the muscles around his mouth were tense, his body taut.

  She hadn’t given him what he needed. The knowledge lay like a granite boulder in her chest, weighting down her words, making her evaluate everything he said.

  “You got plans for tonight?” he asked.

  “Rona and Abby want to go shopping.” For sexy underwear for the Yosemite trip. Unfortunately, Lindsey probably couldn’t afford any. “Tonight I’m on the desk at Dark Haven until midnight.”

  He nodded. “Let one of them drive. I’ll pick you up at midnight and bring you home. If I’m late, wait for me.”

  He still wanted to see her. Her heart lightened slightly. “Okay. But aren’t we going to play at the club after I’m through working?” They hadn’t yet done a scene together at Dark Haven.

  He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he lowered his hand. Stalling. “I’d rather fuck you senseless here again.”

  The warmth expanding outward from her core didn’t succeed in melting the chill encased around her heart…because although his lips had curved up, none of the smile had shown in his eyes.

  * * * *

  “Hey, Lindsey. Look at this one.”

  Lindsey turned.

  The Frederick’s of Hollywood store was crowded with holiday shoppers, but Lindsey had no trouble spotting her friend’s curly blonde hair. Abby held up a cami and thong. The lacy fabric wouldn’t cover…anything. “What do you think?”

  “Oh score,” Lindsey said. “My liege would definitely like that one.”

  “Considering the price, he’d better.”

  Abandoning a rack of corsets, Rona quirked an eyebrow and said in a dry voice, “I think Xavier’s budget might extend to the occasional lingerie purchase.” Over her arm was a black lace teddy with garters and fishnet stockings. Tiny satin ribbons held the front closed. “How about this for the dungeon party at Serenity?”

  “That’s adorable,” Lindsey said. “Only, tying all those bows while dressing would drive me nuts.”

  “Payback is watching Simon untie them. One by one. He loves unwrapping things.” Rona smirked like a cat who’d found the best cream.

  Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Thank the Lord I don’t work for him anymore, or this would be such an inappropriate conversation.”

  With a giggling snort, Abby put Xavier’s treat into her basket. “What about you, Lindsey? Aren’t you getting anything?”

  “Not today.”

  When Rona opened her mouth, Lindsey held up a hand. “Don’t insult me by offering to buy something.”

  “Not to worry.” Rona pointed to the rear of the store. “Everything there is 75 percent off. Will your finances cover that?”

  “Seriously?” Hope rising, Lindsey led them to the rack. Most of the clothes were too big or too small. But… “Oh wow.” She lifted out a virginal white satin negligee. The length went to midthigh. She held it up. The neckline dipped all the way to the waist. The lacing fastening the back together would end at a woman’s ass. “I can afford this.”

  It would drive Zander crazy. Or would have. Her face fell. “But—”

  “What is it, sweetie?” Rona squeezed her shoulder. “Money worries?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “I’d guess that means guy problems,” Abby said.

  Lindsey rubbed her fingers over the smooth fabric, envisioning Zander’s big hands there. “More like sadist problems—as in, Zander likes handing out pain.”

  Rona frowned. “Is he going too far? He respects your safeword, doesn’t he?”

  “It’s not that. It’s that he’s a real sadist and…”

  “And you’re not a masochist,” Abby said softly. “I’ve seen those intense scenes he does at the club.”

  “That’s it. He wants—needs—more than I can tolerate. I can see his internal battle.”

  “Mmmhmm. He usually plays with masochists who like a lot of pain.” Rona’s gaze was troubled.

  “I know,” Lindsey whispered. “I can’t give him that. I tried, and I couldn’t.”

  “No. And you shouldn’t try. Taking a little extra pain for your Dom’s pleasure is different from trying to satisfy a sadist,” Rona said.

  “Did you talk to him about it?” Abby asked.

  “Kind of. He says he’s fine, like it’s not something I should worry about.” How dumb was that? “If he doesn’t get to… Do a sadist’s needs go away?” Lindsey asked. Surely she could figure a way to fix this. She had to.

  Abby bit her lip. “I don’t think so. Not even if the sadist tries to ignore them.”

  “Oh.” The acknowledgment was like a cholla plant, the thorns painfully ripping into her heart.

  She hung the garment back on the rack—she wouldn’t need something pretty after all.

  * * * *

  Near midnight, Lindsey was working the reception desk at Dark Haven. Her shift was almost over, and the number of incoming members had decreased to a trickle. With a sigh, she slumped in the chair. Her heart hurt and somehow was making all the rest of her hurt too. Ever since she’d talked with Abby and Rona, the world had seemed to darken, as if someone had drawn the curtains in a house.

  The door squeaked open and thudded shut, and she looked up to see the masochist named HurtMe. He sauntered up to the desk and handed her his membership card. “Lindsey.”

  “Hey.” She nodded at his PVC chaps and matching chest harness that showed off his lean muscles. “I like the look.”

  “You should get some cowgirl gear. You have the accent to make it work.” He leaned a hip against the counter. “So…have you seen deVries today?”

  She felt her face heat up. “Um…”

  “Fuck, is he still screwing with you?” He sighed and patted her hand. “I’m sorry, Lindsey. I’d hoped he was over his snit.”

  “Snit?” Seriously? She lifted her eyebrows. Did the word “snit” and the man named the Enforcer even exist in the same zip code?

  “Like how he was using you to make me jealous.”

  “What?” She swiped his card through the reader and slapped it on the counter. “Why would he do that?”

  “I thought you knew. We were together—before you came along. The trouble was he didn’t want me playing with other guys.” He rubbed his hand over his lean, shaved chest. “I don’t think it’s right he’d use you to get me up
set, you know?”

  Zander had used her? Lindsey flattened her hands on her leather skirt. “I don’t get you. We are together.”

  “Oh please.” HurtMe gave her a pitying look. “He’s punished a female off and on, but do you see him actually have a real scene with females? Seriously? No.”

  “Whatever.” She forced her back to stay straight. “It’s none of your business what he does with me anyway, now is it?”

  “Well, I guess not. Fine.” His mouth went flat. “I liked you, you know, and I thought you’d want to hear this before you made yourself into more of an idiot over him. Before everyone in Dark Haven finds out how you were played.” He snatched his card off the desk and stalked through the club entrance.

  Used. Played. She stared at the wall, seeing scenes unfolding. Zander with Dixon. With HurtMe. With johnboy. All men. Sure, Zander would flog or paddle a woman, but usually because Xavier had asked him to.

  His intense sessions were always with guys, and rumors said Zander was bisexual. If he was serious about HurtMe, maybe Zander had used her to make the guy jealous. From the snipe in HurtMe’s voice, the maneuver was successful.

  Feet in the chair, she curled her arms around her ankles, and laid her face on her knees. Used. The thought was like a fingernail digging into the unhealed sores inside her.

  All the same, HurtMe’s assertions didn’t matter. Not really.

  Breaking up with Zander was simply the right thing to do. They were getting too involved, and if Parnell or Ricks found her, there was a chance Zander might get hurt.

  So…she was a danger to him, and she didn’t satisfy his needs. Couldn’t get much more straightforward than that, right? She stared down at her hands, watching her knuckles blur as grief welled up and filled her eyes with tears.

  I can do this. I have to do this.

  Nonetheless, when Zander walked in a few minutes later, she still wasn’t prepared.

  “Ready to go, Lindsey?” he asked.

  “Um… Hey.” She attempted to smile at him.

  Eyes narrowed, he leaned over the counter. His fingers—so familiar a touch—curved to cup her chin. “You’ve been crying. Why?”