Tina Takes a Tumble [Reunion Series Book II]

by Mimi Riser

  His hands grazed her ribcage and slid down to her waist, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers. Her stomach clenched and her thighs quivered as moist heat pooled in her pussy. Tina locked her knees and stiffened her spine to keep from melting straight into a full embrace.

  "Pleasure.” He breathed out the word, soft and sultry, against her lips—a word like a kiss. “The pleasure of hot nights and hot bodies, of a man's mouth sucking sweet, tender tits, and his fingers exploring all a woman's secrets. Juicy, lush pleasure ... every fantasy fulfilled ... and the final ecstasy when a hard cock claims a silky, wet cunt.” His grip on her waist tightened. “That's my purpose, Tina—flesh-frying, brain-bending, soul-shattering sex."

  With no more warning than that, his mouth ground down on hers—hungry, demanding—and, God help her, she almost came in her panties. Her! The unconquerable Tina Molina, who'd bowed to no man yet.

  No one made her cum without her permission, damn it. And certainly not just with some dirty talk and a kiss. She held the reins, she always had. She drove her men wild, tortured them with lust, and only when she'd had her fill of the game—only when she decided enough was enough—would she allow her lover-of-the-moment and herself the screaming release of a climax. Any other way made her feel trapped, stifled. She had to be the one in control.

  Unfortunately, Dave seemed to feel the same way.

  He broke off the kiss as fast as he'd started it, spun her around and, with a firm hold on her upper arms, pushed her toward a curtained archway across the room. “Besides, you can't really pass judgment on the décor till you've seen the whole place. There's the Goth room, for instance. It's patterned after a medieval torture chamber, except the rack and the whipping benches are padded for comfort, and the manacles are covered with velvet. Very Marquis de Sade. You'll love it."

  I will? Good lord, this was no ordinary sex-club. It was a friggin’ bondage bar.

  She squawked as he steered her through the curtains and down a long, dim corridor with doorways lining the sides. “Wait a minute—what if I don't want to see it?"

  "Sorry, I don't recall giving you that option.” Chuckling, he swiveled her to the side and held her with one hand while he opened the door at the end of the corridor. Before she could protest, he shoved her into the room beyond. The door clicked shut behind them.

  Tina blinked. When had she lost control?

  With a gasp, she stumbled and slid before skidding to a stop in the center of the floor. Sheesh, her stilettos weren't made for this. And the floor offered little traction. It was polished black marble, she noted—very Goth—must have cost a small fortune. Devil Dave had money, that was evident. This “cave” must be raking it in hand over fist. Her eyes scanned the rest of the place.

  Uh-huh. Padded leather benches and tables with velvet straps dangling from them ... a couple of big X-shaped crosses ... and what appeared to be an authentic stocks and a pillory. Genuine antiques, she'd bet. A large assortment of floggers and paddles decorated one wall. It looked like a torture chamber, all right—an elegant and deadly sensual one.

  Her mouth went dry and icy prickles crawled down her spine.

  She glanced at Dave, who stood near the door, a feral glint in his blue eyes and a wicked grin on his sexy lips. Lips that only minutes before had been kissing hers...

  The prickles blazed hot.

  I think I want to leave now.

  "Okay, I've seen it. Very nice. Now, if you don't mind, I really need to get back to the reunion. Angel will kill me if I leave her alone with Giorgio for too long."

  Poor Angel had been terrified of seeing Giorgio again, period. Those two did have to work out their differences, Tina believed, but Angel would still want her to stay within earshot, be there to run interference if needed. Friends looked out for one another, didn't they, guarded each other's backs? And she and Angel had been friends a long time.

  On that thought, she strode for the door.

  An arm snaked around her waist, halting her in mid-step.

  "Oh, but I do mind. And Giorgio will kill me if I let you interrupt them."

  A second arm joined the first, and he pulled her around till her back was snug against his front. His pelvis pushed forward and she felt the bulge of his erection, thick and hard, rubbing her ass.

  Tina froze. Something like a fist squeezed in her chest, cutting off her breath for an instant—the sharp pain of an old wound ripping open. And with the pain came anger. Her voice went hoarse. “What the hell do you think you're doing?"

  "Seducing you. But if you have to ask, I must be doing it wrong.” His hands flattened on her stomach and slid upward to her breasts. “Ah, I know what the problem is."

  So did she. Unfortunately.

  "You're wearing too many clothes.” He found the little metal tab just below her cleavage. A rasp sounded as he unzipped her halter-top. Then it was skin on skin, naked palms gliding over naked tits, fingers pinching and playing with nipples. “Mmm, that feels better."

  She bit back a groan. It felt damn good, actually. There was nothing wrong with the man's technique. It was why he was doing this that was the problem. Not because he really wanted her, oh no. He'd never wanted her this way, had he? It was just that...

  Friends help friends.

  And Dave and Giorgio had been friends almost as long as she and Angel had.

  "You're still a dickhead, you know that?” With a shove and a twist, she broke free and darted toward the door.

  "Oh, no you don't. I'm not finished yet.” A hand in her hair drew her up short.

  "Ow!” She strained to pull lose. “That hurts, damn it."

  "Then stop struggling. You're the one who's pulling, not me."

  "The hell you're not.” Stilettos skidded on marble as he drew her back into the room.

  "Yes, but you're making it worse than it has to be.” He grabbed her wrist when she reached behind herself and clawed the hand he'd buried in her curls.

  "Now that hurt,” he muttered.

  "Good."

  She yelped when he twisted her arm up behind her back—not from pain, because he didn't twist hard, but from surprise.

  "Oh, come on, Tina, don't be such a baby. I'm exerting almost no pressure at all."

  "Fuck you."

  "Don't worry. You will."

  "In your dreams."

  "No, in your ass."

  What? Her eyes widened. She screeched as he steered her toward one of the crosses.

  "Or maybe your cunt first. I do want both. It's just a question of where to start. Have you a preference?"

  She made a strangling noise in her throat.

  "Oh well, if you can't decide, maybe I'll just flip a coin."

  He let go of her to strip off her open halter. Her miniskirt quickly followed it, then her panties. Little else remained, because she hadn't worn stockings that day. She was too stunned for a moment to resist, and by the time she came to her senses, it was over and she was naked, except for her jewelry and shoes.

  Naked, teetering on spiked heels, and facing the cross, with Dave's hard-muscled body pressed against her and pushing her into the satin-smooth wood beams. His chest hair tickled her back and his erect cock was sandwiched lengthwise in the crease of her ass. Somewhere during the process of stripping her, he'd managed to shed his clothes as well. Damn, the guy worked fast.

  His fingers curled around hers and he stretched her arms out and up. She felt something like a hinged cuff bracelet—rigid and soft at once, velvet on metal—attached to the top of each upper beam. With the ease and speed of long practice, like he'd done this maneuver many times, he inserted her wrists into the manacles and snapped the evil things shut. Never missing a beat, he slid down her spine to a crouch, grabbed first one ankle, then the other, and locked them into the manacles on the lower beams.

  Then she heard him rise to his feet again and step back, leaving her spread-eagled.

  Trapped.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. Hot waves rolled through h
er. Hot anger—it had to be. What else? Anger making her skin flush, making her pulse race. If it felt, suspiciously, like hot passion, too, that was just her imagination. Right? She was pissed, damn it.

  She twisted and writhed, without success, trying to break free.

  Dave gave a low whistle. “Wow, I wish you could see how luscious you look right now. It's even sexier when you wiggle like that. Maybe I should take some pictures. Or a video. We keep a camcorder back here."

  Tina threw back her head and screamed. “Get me off this fucking thing!"

  "All in good time. Only—just so we're clear on this—it doesn't do the fucking, sweetheart. I do."

  I'll kill him.

  Her lungs expanded with a sharply drawn breath. Another ear-splitting shriek shattered the air, a shriek such as only Tina Molina could let fly.

  Dave chuckled. “Scream your head off, if it makes you feel better. This room is soundproofed. Even if it weren't, everyone here is used to screams, anyway."

  I'll kill him, revive him, then kill him again.

  He stepped close behind her once more and started stroking her ... Back, sides, front ... stomach, breasts, bottom ... Up and down and all around his hands moved, smooth and gentle, petting her like she was a cat. He brushed aside her hair, and his mouth claimed the nape of her neck, then continued with tiny nips and suckles over her shoulder.

  He whispered between the kisses. “Your skin feels like silk."

  And his fingers and lips felt like brands, scorching her wherever they landed. She quivered as his touch traveled over her. Such a wicked, weird contrast between being spread out naked, held immobile, and those tender caresses. The harshness of the first predicament made the softness of the second seem all the more sensual—all the more erotic. It ought to feel wrong, but—she groaned at the realization—somehow it was beginning to feel way too right.

  No! He can't do this to me. He can use me, but he can't make me like it. He won't make me cum. I won't let him.

  Tina fisted her hands, tensed all her muscles, struggled to hang onto control.

  "I hate you,” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

  "No, you don't."

  "How do you figure that?” She strained her head around to glare at him.

  He ducked his inward to plant a kiss on the end of her nose. “Because I can smell your arousal, sweetheart."

  A hand reached between her legs, exploring. She gasped as a finger glided through her folds.

  "And you're wet, Tina—dripping. You're enjoying this."

  The fact that he might be correct didn't make her feel any more kindly toward him or the situation. “Dickhead."

  "Ah. Your old pet name for me. You remembered."

  "Go ahead and joke.” It's not funny.

  She remembered too much right now, especially that last year of high school when they'd spent nearly every night at the library, studying together, and she'd wanted so much more—when she'd watched Angel and Giorgio fall in love and wished with such longing she and Dave could do the same. But the dickhead had never viewed her as anything more than a pal. He'd treated her like a kid sister, when she had enough friggin’ brothers already—seven of them, for chrissake.

  "Your dad has an unusually high sperm-count,” her wry-witted mother used to say.

  Cute, Mom. Ever consider having your tubes tied?

  "But if I had, I never would have had you, precious,” the reply always came. “I wanted to keep trying till I got a girl—all sugar and spice and everything nice."

  Not anymore. Tears stung Tina's eyes. Just look what mama's little precious had become.

  She could see the truth of the matter now. Clarity struck like a punch to the gut. Hell, it was mostly Dave's fault she'd turned herself into a femme fatale. He'd made her feel so damned undesirable back then, she'd been working her butt off ever since to prove the contrary.

  The thought drove her to a fresh frenzy of squirming and writhing. “I want out of here, damn it. Now!"

  "Quiet!” A sharp smack on her ass punctuated the order. “Hold still or you're going to get spanked."

  "I'm what?” She almost choked on the words.

  "You heard me. In fact...” He smoothed his palm over the flesh he'd just stung. “You're probably going to get a spanking, anyway. I mean, these sweet cheeks are just begging for it. Really."

  Arrgh ... Outrage lowered her voice to a growl. “You. Wouldn't. Dare."

  Dave snorted. “Get real. I've already stripped you and chained you to a cross. You surely can't think I'm above whipping you, too. Hell, I do this sort of thing for a living. People pay good money to get what I'm giving you for free."

  Oh, shit...

  Her stomach knotted. She broke out in a sweat. “I ... I'll pay you to stop!"

  "Nope, I couldn't possibly accept money from an old friend. This one's on the house, babe. Relax and enjoy it."

  He strolled around the cross to survey the wall before her, the one on which the instruments of punishment were displayed. Quite an impressive display, too. And she didn't mean the paddles and floggers. The sight of a naked Dave was almost enough to make her forget what he planned. He had looked sexy as sin in his clothes. Out of them, he looked lethal. God, he was ripped.

  Chills swept her—hot and cold—an evil, erotic blend of desire and dread. Her heart pounded as he selected one of the floggers, a short-handled one with multiple leather strips dangling from it. Ouch. Then he grabbed a handful of foil packets off a nearby table. Condoms, she guessed. Marvy. At least he practiced safe sex.

  Gee, why did she find no comfort in that thought?

  Her breath quickened as he strolled back to the cross, wearing that wicked grin and a huge hard-on. Holy hotdog. His erection had seemed big enough when she'd felt it, but it appeared to have grown. Considerably. This bondage scene aroused him, didn't it?

  That it was arousing her, too, was something she was trying like hell to ignore.

  Tina glared, stiffened her resolve, girded her loins for battle. Her chest heaved with the effort to speak. “You can't keep me here forever, we both know that. So just remember this, Dickhead ... ” The words came out husky and hoarse between pants. “The second I'm free, I'm going to rip your testicles out by the roots and cram them into your ears—and don't you think I won't."

  "Ah. Well, in that case, I'll just have to give you so many orgasms that by the time I do release you, you won't be able to stand up, let alone run fast enough to catch me—and don't you think I won't either."

  She didn't. That was what made breathing so difficult.

  He stopped scant inches in front of her. Her eyes met his—deep blue pools of passion, so deep she went dizzy for an instant and almost toppled into them, almost drowned. God knew she'd wanted to drown in them once. It was his eyes that had first attracted her, years ago. So much of him had changed since then, but the eyes were still the same. Clear as a summer sky and magical as moonlight. Those beautiful, bottomless blue eyes...

  She shook off the memories, the dizziness, and lowered her gaze—pointedly—to his erection. “Do people pay you for that, too?"

  His brows rose. “Do I smell a trace of jealousy?"

  "No, you just smell."

  "So do you, sweetheart—deliciously, I might add.” He sank to his knees, laid aside the flogger and condoms, and leaned forward to inhale the triangle of curls at the juncture of her thighs. “Mmm, yes, delicious."

  His fingers dusted over the flesh of her lower abdomen, then tickled through the curls. His thumb grazed a small, pink nub. Such a tiny, teasing touch to bring such a jolt of arousal. She stifled a groan at the raw heat that ravaged her.

  His head tilted back to study her face. Gauging her response to his action? He liked what he saw, apparently. His grin brightened to a full-beamed smile.

  God, that smile was another part of him she'd once loved ... Stop it. Don't go there.

  "But, for the record, no, I don't get paid for fucking—nor do I want to be. I teach, professional
ly, the art of bondage and dominance games, but my dick stays in my pants when I do it. I'm a club-owner and an instructor, not a male prostitute. Happy now?"

  She gave him a sour look. “Ecstatic."

  "Oh no, the ecstasy comes later. But don't worry. We're working our way up to it. As a matter of fact, I'll give you a small taste of the coming attractions right now. And, in the process, I'll get to taste something, too. One of those win-win situations.” He winked. “That's the beauty of an X-cross. It allows easy access to both the rear ... and the front."

  Oh, no...

  She strained backward, pulling against the shackles, as he leaned forward again, but she could move only so far—like hardly anywhere—and Dave, of course, had a free rein. He reached around her, slid his hands up the backs of her legs and gripped her ass. Without mercy, he pulled her pussy into a blistering, open-mouthed attack. Long, hot licks and steamy, wet kisses—one fast, fiendish tonguing—sultry sizzle, rocking her to the core.

  Yikes, now she knew why they called him “Devil Dave."

  Help...

  She fought it, but control was going down in flames.

  While the rest of her went up in smoke.

  His lips closed around her clit, sucking—

  Christ!

  Shockwaves ripped through her from stem to stern. The orgasm struck like lightning—arching her spine, popping her eyes—and leaving her hanging like a limp lasagna noodle in its wake.

  Limp and angry. She'd lost the battle, damn it.

  Devil Dave looked none too pleased about it, either.

  He licked his lips and swiped a forearm over his chin to clean off her juices, then gathered up his gear and rose to his feet, frowning. “That was way too fast. You really need to learn better control."

  Tell me about it.

  "On the other hand...” The frown flipped to a grin. “It does give me a good reason to punish you."

  With an evil chuckle, he walked behind her, flicking the flogger against a nearby bench en route. Tina jerked at the little snap it made.

  "It sounds much better smacking a bare ass,” Dave said. “Wait and see."

  Not if I can help it.

  She made a last, frantic attempt to break free from the shackles. The one at her left ankle felt like it might be giving. Her calf muscles tensed as she strained against it. If she could only...