Girl In Pieces

by Jordan Bell

  “Josh will regret not locking you in his bedroom and never letting you out.”

  When he pressed forward, closing the space between us, I back pedaled until there was no room. He smelled like expensive cologne and lime.

  I wondered if his throat would taste like salt.

  “I doubt that.”

  He grabbed my hand suddenly, squeezed it tight in his fist. “We’ll see when I have you bent over in my playroom and I put him on speaker phone.”

  “Wait.” I blinked. “What?”

  “We could erase them both,” he said, voice rough with emotion. He used his free hand on my hips to turn me, and I let him—god, I let him—until I faced the counter. He took both my hands and set them on the marble, spread my fingers and held them down, his fingers in between mine. In this position, no one would be able to see me beneath him. No one had to know. He ducked his head against my neck and rumbled his pleasure against my skin. “Right here. Just like this. If you made a sound, I’d find a wooden spoon…”

  And just as he nestled his hips into my ass, his phone went off in his pocket. I felt the vibration against my hip, but the sound was like a gunshot that halted his behavior in its place. He stopped grinding and stood there for long, long minutes, leaving me panting and dying inside. Who knew men like this could exist? Who knew they’d touch me in a way that almost felt like wanting?

  God we were so fucked up, him and me. For a second, just a second, I understood what Josh must have felt like that morning, crazy and overwhelmed with emotion, ready to do something extra stupid to make the madness quiet down.

  But he didn’t answer his phone or fulfill his dream of plowing me in his kitchen. Instead he pulled me back, effortlessly as if I weighed nothing at all.

  “Little sub,” he murmured affectionately against my hair. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  And there was no waiting and no power in my voice to stop him. He never let go of my hand as he dragged me out of the kitchen and into the dark throng of people dancing and talking crowding each other room after room. I had to press myself against Oliver’s body to keep from being separated as people saw him and tried to intercept. He held onto me though, protected me from them as he thundered his way past, ignoring his guests. Oliver was a bull, dead set on his goal and everyone else could go straight to hell.

  My brain went numb, refusing to argue how bad an idea this was because my heart had been leading me around for weeks and so far all it had done was get me into trouble. I deserved this. I deserved being wanted.

  Oliver forced me through the living room, or what would have been a living room had it not been rearranged to accommodate the partiers and dancers. Despite the low lights, I could tell everything was white, white couches and chairs and pale, creamy carpet that sunk beneath each hurried step. Oliver lived in luxury and wealth. It was absolutely clear as he muscled through his guests, ignoring them or ordering them out of the way, that he wanted for absolutely nothing.

  He squeezed my hand, not reassuringly but as if he were making sure I was still hanging on for dear life. There was nothing gentle or affectionate about him. Something I was pretty sure was a symptom of a broken heart and a lot of time left alone to forget how, rumbling around in this ivory tower of glass and steel.

  I kind of understood that a little too well.

  At the far end of the living room, tucked aside and almost obscured by a credenza and large colorful art, was a very peculiar old wooden door. Its handle and decorative hardware were iron and looked like it been once been ripped off a monastery from another century, probably by Oliver himself.

  At the very least, it looked like it ought to hide the Minotaur. Next to all the white molding and contemporary art, it all but screamed Here there be dragons.

  No one paid us any mind as he pulled out a key and unlocked the heavy door.

  His playroom. He was really taking me to his playroom, right in the middle of his own party. And no one noticed my apparent kidnapping.

  Oliver tugged me into the dark room, the only illumination coming from squares of moonlight let in through French doors leading to a private balcony. They glowed silver and white, stretching across a small, round room.

  He shut the door. Locked it.

  I could make out the shapes of bookshelves and cabinets, a bed and freestanding bath tub, shadows and nothing more substantial. White sheets on a perfectly plain bed reflected the silver moonlight, the brightest spot in the whole room. There was something otherworldly about the bed. Something untamed.

  “This is a very bad idea,” I whispered violently against his shoulder. “I can’t do this.”

  “Baby.” He brushed his mouth across my forehead. “I only have very bad ideas.”

  Without warning, he twisted me into the wall, pinning my hands above my head and crushing my body with his. A flush of moonlight just barely brightened our skin, cast shadows of our bodies in long, supernatural shapes.

  It was over in a second, caught, captured, held and I didn’t even consider resisting. Who would? In the dark, with this man, I could erase Josh.

  I could forget.

  I could drown.

  My heart dropped to my toes and everything between my legs drenched in erotic, eager anticipation.

  There was no way I wasn’t going to regret this in the morning.

  “Good girl,” he breathed. He used one hand to hold my wrists while the other slid into my hair and pushed my forehead to touch the wall, forcing me to bow my head in supplication. “It’s a shame we didn’t meet under different circumstances. I would have loved breaking you in.”

  “What do you mean?” My voice shook, a whimper of its usual strength. I shrunk beneath him, completely enclosed by his body. Where Josh made me feel strong in submission, Oliver made me feel overpowered. Different, but equally intoxicating.

  With the pounding music on the other side of the wall, there was no way anyone would hear me scream.

  Even if I wanted to.

  Which I didn’t.

  A light came on behind us, somewhere on the other side of the large room. It was hardly more than candle bright, a flicker creating as many shadows as it dashed. He growled against my ear and turned his head towards the light. He did not seem surprised in the least.

  Then.

  “Oliver.”

  I froze. Didn’t move. Didn’t breath. Afraid to open my eyes.

  “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “Too late,” Oliver growled. “I’ve decided not to give her back.”

  I smirked as I stepped out of Oliver’s private study and down the short flight of stairs into his playroom.

  “As if I’d let you keep her.”

  “If you didn’t want someone else to play with your pet, you shouldn’t let her off her leash.” Oliver tsked and smoothed his hand from her hair down her body. At her hip he dragged a handful of her skirt into his fist and pulled it up her gorgeous thigh until I could see the peak of black lace and pale, round flesh. “Uncollared. Unmarked. You’re just begging for someone to steal her.”

  Kat moaned, fingertips digging into the wall beneath the hand Oliver secured her with. Her whole body shook as he stroked her thigh.

  Wordlessly, she gave in to his pushpull, breaking her down bit by bit, stripping back the mouthy, sarcastic girl who’d walked into the party, to find the giving, wanting submissive beneath the act. Oliver was good at rending people to their base atoms, deconstructing their flaws and rebuilding them stronger, better, more beautiful. You had to respect a Dom with that much power.

  Fortunately, I did respect him or I’d have broken the fingers he touched her with. If he hadn’t called me after his conversation with Kelli, this would have gone very differently. I’d had no idea stories of my tying Kat up during the Halloween party had made their way through the community. They whispered about her natural ability to take rope and my unquestioning obsession with her. Thank God for gossip, because if Olive
r hadn’t been such a good friend with such gossipy connections, he would have taken Kat without question. Who wouldn’t?

  I took the last step into the room. The playroom was round, sparsely furnished with a bed across from the balcony, pulled away from the walls to allow complete access to every side. There was a chair and ottoman in the corner, and several cabinets each with their own purpose and lock. A variety of rugs splashed the wood floor, different textures for different sensation play. Bunny soft pelts to pebbly, course mats.

  For someone who didn’t know better, it looked like a seldom used guest room, that is, until you noticed the wrist cuffs nestled on white sheets where a pillow should have been. The downy white pillows instead piled on an armless chair beside the bed within reach of a belt rack. A bowl of feathers had nothing to do with decoration. Coils of cloth in a padded box were not on the bedside table on accident.

  When one needed to gag ones sub, one did not have time to go searching for something that would do the job.

  “She knows who she belongs to.”

  “Do you?” Oliver murmured against her hair. He roughed up her skirt again, spread his fingers wide across her pale thigh and gripped as much as he could hold. “Do you know who you belong to, little sub?”

  When she keened, the sweetest, neediest little moan, I thought I’d die. A part of me loved seeing her possessed by another Dom, held for ransom until she begged for me to rescue her. A part of me felt vicious, inconsolable jealousy. Oliver and I had shared subs before in play, but this was different.

  Though no less hot. More, maybe, knowing how much Kat loved performing for an audience.

  More importantly, it made me very sure I was done with boundaries and restraint. If I had doubts before, seeing her held by Oliver destroyed them all.

  She belonged to me. Always had. Always would.

  “Josh,” she begged. She moaned. “I belong to Josh.”

  God, I loved when she begged my name.

  But then Oliver smacked the thickest part of her thigh with the flat of his hand, more noisy than painful, but the sting of it vibrated the air between us and left a red spot spreading across that gorgeous plane of flesh. Kat muffled a shocked cry and cringed remorsefully into his arms. He didn’t pet her or console her. Instead he pressed in closer so she had no room to move.

  “Master,” he corrected. “He is your Master and you will show him the respect he deserves.”

  “Master Josh,” she repeated, which immediately made my dick throb. I crossed my arms and watched the other Dom become my enforcer, loving how gorgeous her apology sounded between each breathy pant. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Fine.” Oliver groaned in defeat, stealing a small nuzzle against her hair, before pulling her away from the wall and giving her hips a little nudge towards me. “Lucky bastard. Go on, little sub. Show him how much you missed him.”

  As soon as he gave her permission, Kat twisted in his hands to look at me, to make sure it really was me. She bit her lip to contain her joy, cheeks pinking with pleasure. Her eyes said, You came for me. It was hard not to break character and return that smile. Wordlessly we’d all agreed to play our roles, negotiating the terms of the scene with our eyes and bodies. I wanted to kiss that mouth and pet her and sooth her and promise never to leave her alone again.

  Instead I pointed at the floor beside me.

  “Here. Now.”

  She dashed from Oliver’s arms and fell to her hands and knees at my feet, gracelessly and undisciplined like a kitten just discovering its paws for the first time. Her hair fell around her shoulders, the pink ombre strands catching the moonlight.

  Her knees were spread a little too far apart. Her fingers too. The eagerness of her obedience and the flawed execution was fucking adorable. I wanted to drag her head back by her hair and kiss the shit out of her.

  Despite that, I couldn’t forget why she’d come to this party, to replace me again. She hadn’t trusted me and she’d put herself in the path of another Dom she could know nothing about. One dangerous decision had been more than enough.

  My displeasure didn’t diminish with my affection. If anything, her ardent love made me want to punish her more severely for letting Oliver come anywhere near her.

  “Did you think,” I threatened delicately, sliding one hand into her hair and curling my fingers into a fist. “That I wouldn’t find out you were giving away your obedience, your body, when it belongs to me? Did you think I’d allow that?”

  Kat squeezed her eyes shut, her eagerness degrading with guilt and genuine regret.

  “Answer me.”

  “I didn’t think you wanted me.” She sighed. “Sir.”

  “Apparently,” Oliver drawled. “She doesn’t realize everyone has heard about her performance at the Halloween party. How everyone is talking about Josh’s beautiful ropeslut.” He circled us, stalking in and out of her view with each word. “As if I wouldn’t call you immediately when she was offered to me, like something that can be bartered and traded to the highest bidder. As if I’d ever take on another Dom’s little girl.”

  Her body wilted into my side, her hair still caught between my fingers, but very gently she touched her temple to my thigh and rested there. Shit. Oh, shit, watching her like that was too much of a turn on. She was perfect, so fucking perfect, how had I not selfishly taken her before now? She nuzzled me, my pet, so sorry for what she’d done. I wanted her to feel how much it hurt when Oliver called me, but I didn’t want her to go into a dark place that would ruin this night. We’d both made mistakes.

  This night was no longer about mistakes.

  It was about finally claiming what was mine and proving to her how much I loved her. How much I wanted her. How I’d do anything to keep her.

  “She’ll learn.” I softened my grip on her hair and gently slid my fingertips along her scalp. I caressed my hand down the smooth curve of her neck and with deliberate, constant pressure, I forced her head down to the floor. I crouched until I held her forehead to the fluffy soft rug she knelt on, her dress riding up to expose the backs of her thighs, Oliver’s hand print, and the most perfect little gusset of black lace I’d ever seen.

  “You need to collar her.”

  “I will.”

  “Before you lose her again.”

  I growled. Oliver’s short temper, I knew, had nothing to do with me, but I gave him a warning look anyway.

  “That will never happen again.” Kat shivered as I stroked her hair from her face and ran a hand down the length of her spine. She whimpered, muffled against the floor. “You’ll never run away again, will you Katrina?”

  “Never,” she panted. “I promise.”

  I glanced up at my friend and realized he wasn’t looking at Kat anymore and didn’t notice her mistake. He stared off through the French doors, brows drawn down and consumed by some dark thoughts that were his and his alone. I knew he was battling his own demons, the loss of a girl I only knew from brief stories he confessed when he was drunk or too exhausted to stop himself. A girl he wasn’t supposed to know, a girl he wasn’t supposed to have. A girl he’d indulged in just once.

  And now paid the price every day for the rest of his life. A wanting that would never be sated.

  I didn’t envy him his loss. It was the one reason I trusted him with my Kat and why he deserved someone to take his heart out on. He would never hurt her or touch her without my say so. He longed for someone else. Kat was never in any danger of catching his attention. Not really.

  If Kat didn’t mind him here, I certainly didn’t.

  She sighed happily when I drew her hair up and tucked it behind one ear. She turned her head just enough to look up at me.

  “Do you want him to leave, Kat?”

  She bit her lip and very gently shook her head. I smiled so she’d know I didn’t mind.

  “Good. Oliver, get her up.”

  I stood and my friend snapped out of his dark thoughts to reanimate as the Master of his playroom. He leaned down
and caught her by her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled into him and he steadied her. Gentle and unaffectionate at the same time.

  “This dress?” Oliver asked as he pulled at it, eager to get her out of it as I was to have her out of it. “I hate it, don’t you?”

  “Get it off her now.”

  My usually mouthy girl stayed mute, eyes wide with stars, listening and taking it all in without comment or complaint. I liked her silence, as much as I liked her voice. It made what we did to her feel more permanent. I stepped back and watched as Oliver unhooked the back of the dress and yanked it in two, sharp pulls down her arms until it broke loose from the thickest part of her body and tumbled around her feet.

  I groaned, unable to contain my reaction to seeing her bare, pale belly contrasted against black lace panties and black satin bra. The panties, their cut across the swollen rise of her ass gave her backside a heart shape, stretched wide over her full figure and just begging to be touched and marked.

  I also wanted to rip them off her, shred them with my bare hands, and destroy them utterly. How this girl could make me feel so madly in love and young and delirious one minute, then violent and aggressive and ravenous the next was mind blowing.

  Kat blushed, grinned, and nibbled her bottom lip. So this was the kind of submissive she was, bashful and sweet, eager and quiet. I couldn’t wait to see how she’d be tied up, how she’d react to pain and dominance. I remembered her on her knees at the party, cords of rope digging into her soft body. She’d slid almost effortlessly into her first taste of subspace, just enough to lose words and thoughts and time.

  This girl.

  “Bring her here.” I moved to the head of the bed where wrist cuffs attached to a bar beneath the frame waited, black leather stark against white cotton sheets.

  Oliver brought my girl to heel at the end of the bed, urged her onto her hands and knees, and led her like a pet crawling up to where I waited. She bowed her head, hips swaying as she slid one knee under her, then the other, deliberately feline and teasing. Collared and leashed she’d become an unstoppable force against us, possessing us entirely even on her knees.