Engage (Disciples' Daughters Book 3)

by Drew Elyse

  Shit. I was a terrible daughter.

  “Dad,” I said aloud, hoping Jager would understand.

  “Knows you’re with me,” Jager answered.

  “What?” It came out like a shriek, but I couldn’t help it. Dad had seen me leaving with Jager—was I supposed to be calm about that?

  Jager finally stopped just before we made it to the doors. “He’s not an idiot. He knew there was something up when you insisted on coming tonight. Already handed me shit about that too. You’re a grown woman, so he isn’t going to tell you what to do, and he knows it’ll only cause problems if he tries to pull that with me. Didn’t tell him shit. Didn’t plan on shit happening ‘til I saw you in that fucking dress. But Ace taking you out, and me leaving, he’ll know where you are. That’s all there is to it.”

  I was floored. Not only by the knowledge that Dad knew something was up with me and Jager before anything had even happened. Not only by the fact that he’d seen me leaving, knew where I was going, and didn’t stop it. Not only by the fact that Jager had told me Dad knew these things and I had to deal. No, what really shocked me was the sheer quantity of words Jager had just used. I was certain beyond a doubt I’d never heard him say so much at once before.

  My shock and the honest to God fact that he was right—that was all there was to it—had me saying, “Okay.”

  Jager didn’t hang around to process or talk that information out. He got back to walking out of the gym and led me to his black-on-chrome Fat Boy. It had been a while since I was on the back of a bike. A thrill went through me knowing I was about to be again, while holding on to Jager. He climbed on first, then waited for me to settle in behind him before he took off.

  The ride was great. Jager’s big, hard body, the open air, that throaty growl of the engine. Part of me was almost disappointed when he pulled up to an old-looking building that seemed once industrial. Any ideas of wanting to stay on the bike disappeared as soon as the thought of what we were doing there took over.

  Jager led me into a plain looking lobby with a bank of five mailboxes on one wall and stairs and an elevator on the other side. Nothing ornate, but nothing battered or unkempt either. The elevator had key slats next to each floor but the first. Jager inserted his key next to the fourth floor, turned it, and hit the button.

  “You have the whole floor?” I asked.

  “Not a big building. Every unit’s a whole floor.”

  Huh. Interesting.

  “How do you let guests in?”

  “Gotta come down and get them.”

  His short answers didn’t faze me, though part of me wondered if they should.

  “That seems like a lot of effort,” I commented.

  “Not really.”

  The way he said it made it clear it wasn’t much effort because he didn’t get a lot of guests. This was not surprising.

  The elevator opened into a living room with high ceilings. One wall was made of exposed brick and windows. The ceiling was interspersed with exposed ductwork. There was a kitchen divided from the living room only by an island. To the right was a small hallway with what looked to be three doors off it. None of it looked particularly lived in. There was furniture, but it was sparse, and there were no decorations or personal things anywhere.

  “This way,” he said, heading down the hall to the second door on the right. Opening it, he went straight in and I followed, until I turned within the room and got a look. What I saw had my feet cemented to the ground.

  The room was like something I’d only seen on a computer screen. It wasn’t a room for sleeping or living in—it was a room where Jager could tie a woman up and fuck her.

  No decorations, no color on the walls. There was a full bed on a plain, wooden frame with a slated headboard. The bedding was simple white and just sheets. No blanket to make it a place to sleep. That wasn’t what it was for. This was punctuated by the hand and wrist restraints at each corner of the bed.

  There were two support beams in corners of the room with chains attached to them. One wall was kept clear, chains dangling from the ceiling in front of it as well as anchors screwed into it. A few feet away was a padded, leather spanking bench.

  It was a room much like ones I’d imagined myself in, a room from my dirtiest fantasies I would never have spoken aloud. Yet, there I was. It was real, and I was alone in it with Jager.

  The ache I felt between my thighs was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I was wet, soaking, and the feeling only drove me higher. I wanted this, whatever he was going to do. I wanted it so much, I was ready to beg and he hadn’t even said anything.

  “Nervous, pet?” he asked. I’d been so caught up looking around, I hadn’t realized he came back to my side.

  I moved my eyes up to his, seeing the dark heat in them that made me want to moan. I bit my lip to hold it in before saying, “No.”

  He stared at me for a moment before his eyes flared. “Strip.”

  The shoes went first, the relief in my feet as they adjusted to being flat on the floor making me bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep quiet. Everything, even the feeling of my clothes moving on my skin as I removed them, seemed to be driving me higher.

  Jager’s eyes followed every move, but he said not one thing. When I was bare before him, he stepped closer. One hand came up to cup my breast, a finger running over my taut nipple. It wasn’t play, it was like he was inspecting, learning my body now that it was revealed in full. His hand moved to the other breast and I was ready to scream if he didn’t give me more soon. Then, that same blasted hand went down my stomach and dipped between my legs. A single finger ran through my slit and I cried out as it brushed over my clit.

  “So fucking wet.” His voice was approving and I felt a surge of pride at the sound.

  I whimpered as his hand left me, but kept my lips sealed. His eyes stayed on mine and I knew I was doing nothing to hide the battle I was fighting. I wanted to beg, to demand more, to haul off and touch myself, but I remained still and quiet. This was a test, his eyes made that clear.

  It felt like I’d been standing there for hours when he said, “Good girl.”

  There it was again. His praise lit me up. I felt it in every part of my body.

  His next words came more swiftly. An order—one I was all too ready to obey.

  “On the bed.”

  I moved without hesitation, walking across the room and reclining on my back. Jager followed, moving slower, pulling off his shirt as he came. His eyes roved over my body while mine fixed on the bulge in his pants.

  “Have you done this before?”

  Crap. I wanted to lie. I wanted to tell him I was a pro. I didn’t want him to hold back or find me lacking. Still, as much as I’d thought about it, I’d never even been restrained during sex.

  “No.”

  “But you’ve wanted to,” he shot back immediately.

  “Yes.”

  He nodded as he grabbed one of the ankle restraints, pulling my right leg out and fastening it. The process was repeated with my left leg. He said nothing, but I was deafened by the sound of my own heavy breathing.

  When he came up near my head and grabbed my left arm, he spoke again.

  “I won’t go intense. But I’m not holding back, giving you a taste. You don’t like it, you say ‘I quit’. You say stop or no, I’ll keep at it. You tell me you quit, we’re done. I let you loose, stop what I’m doing. Understand?”

  I understood. I even understood the unsaid part of that instruction. If I told him I quit, that meant permanently. “Yes.”

  “I’ll be aware of your reactions. I think you genuinely aren’t getting off on something, I’ll move on. I’m not sure, I’ll ask and expect honesty,” he went on.

  “Okay.”

  He strapped in my right arm, and I was completely at his mercy. There was an inch or so I could pull in each direction, but no more than that. Restrained, naked, and staring up at Jager as he took me in, I felt completely at ease and more desperate than
I had ever been all at once.

  “Okay,” he echoed, then his hand went between my legs.

  His fingers hit their target right away, landing against my clit, and I cried out. He rotated them, pressing lightly against that bundle of nerves until I was mindless, pulling against the bonds holding me down, trying to get more pressure.

  “Still,” he chided.

  I did as he said, and he instantly pressed harder, giving me more. A reward for being good. I decided right then I could be good for him any time he wanted.

  Doing so proved difficult a few minutes later when he stepped away right as I was about to come. I wanted to cry out at the injustice of it, but I bit down on my lip so hard, I thought I might draw blood.

  My body had never felt more alive, more vital. There was a humming beneath my skin, an energy I hadn’t realized until that moment had been completely silent. I’d shut it down, everything in the wake of what happened. Jager gave that life back to me.

  He returned, his hand at his side holding something I couldn’t get a good look at. Seeing him, the way he emanated power in that moment, I realized I was bringing something to life inside him too. There was light in those eyes, a brightness I thought I’d never see. This was the real Jager. He was dominance and power. I caught a glimpse of it when he’d been in the ring, but it was nothing like what I was seeing now.

  He lived in the day-to-day world he had with the Disciples, but here and in the ring, he was truly alive.

  I would have let him keep me tied up there forever just to bask in the sight.

  I was broken from these thoughts when his arm went high, then came down with a sharp crack. Dozens of small stings exploded on the skin of my thighs and that time, I did cry out. There was slight pain, but it was unlike any I’d ever experienced before. It brought me from my mind and straight into my body. It awoke every nerve and the pulsing of my building orgasm grew stronger.

  “My pet likes her flogger,” he commented.

  He didn’t want a response, not more than what my body was already telling him. He made that clear when he landed the flogger again, this time across my stomach. Then again and again, until it felt like that humming beneath the surface was going to break out of me—until I could barely contain the raw feeling inside me.

  His hand went back between my legs and if my mind were engaged at all, I might have been ashamed of the wetness seeping onto my thighs. Instead, I was all about feeling his fingers as he pushed into me and thrust unrelentingly.

  I felt the first spasm of my orgasm move through me just as he pulled his fingers from my body. That time, I couldn’t contain the keening whine. I needed to come. Why wouldn’t he let me come?

  “Not yet, pet. You’ve got a long way to go before you get that.”

  The flogger came down again, right at the juncture of my legs, hitting my swollen, desperate pussy. The feeling was so intense, I was blinded by it.

  I heard screaming.

  I was too lost to realize for a long time it was mine.

  It had been over an hour since I’d strapped her in. There was a glorifying pattern of pink and red lines decorating her skin. Her pussy and thighs shone, soaked from her arousal. Beneath the patchwork of marks the flogger left behind, her skin was flushed. She was panting, the exertion of being kept right on the edge of coming for so long getting to her.

  She was perfection.

  I’d alternated between the flogger and my hand for the first half hour, then I’d replaced my fingers with a dildo she lost her mind over. Every time I’d thrust it in and pull it out, she’d scream in triumph or desperation. Next time, I’d gag her. This time, I wanted to hear those screams.

  I pulled the dildo away again, eliciting another cry of frustration from her. I watched her try to get herself under control, physically pulling at her restraints in the effort. Her body was undulating wildly, wanting the release the slightest friction could give her in her state.

  Then, in a sweet, broken voice, she started pleading. “Please. Please, sir. Please. Please.”

  There it was. I’d been waiting. I’d been pushing, wanting her so worked up, even her desire to do as I said was gone. Still, she didn’t try to demand of me. She begged, without having to force herself, without feeling any shame. She begged me openly.

  I got a condom, not wanting the fucking thing between me and all that wet I’d worked to get. Ember wasn’t in any state to talk about that shit, though. We’d sort it later, then I’d take her ungloved.

  I nearly groaned just at releasing my cock from my pants. She had me so fucking hard. Her submission, the way she never once fought what I gave her, never even said ‘no’ in response to me keeping her from her orgasm—nothing could have made me harder.

  I climbed onto the bed and Ember flinched, jerking when my body touched hers. Her whole body was sensitive from the treatment I’d given her. I didn’t go lightly because of that. As I settled myself over her, my cock ready to take her, I made sure I touched as much of her as I could. I wanted her raw nerves to feel me as I took her.

  My cock glided right in, sliding through that soaked cunt even as she clamped down on me. Ready to reward her, and not willing to wait another minute, I fucked her hard. She flew headlong into an orgasm as soon as I started, screaming until her voice broke. I kept on thrusting, taking what I needed and getting her there again. Before the first orgasm left her, a second took over. The third hit even sooner, her pussy barely letting up on my cock between the two. It was on that third, when she was clamped down on me so tight I had to fuck her with all I was worth just to move, that I let it come over me. That drenched, tight as fuck cunt wrapped around me, hotter than anything I’d ever felt, sheathed me completely as I came.

  And fuck, I came hard. Even with her already giving me that, Ember made my dick feel like it had been pent up for years. It was worse than the stint I did inside. How she managed to make me hornier than a year and a half without pussy did, I had no fucking clue.

  As soon as my head cleared enough to move, I got off her. She’d be sore. She didn’t need my weight on her. I got right to loosening her restraints, taking time to rub down each arm as I guided them back to her sides. She’d been on her back, so the blood flow was not impeded the way it would have been if I had her upright with her arms tied above her, but that didn’t mean they didn’t ache from being locked in that position.

  I let her lay there after releasing her while I went to the bathroom and filled the tub. Aftercare wasn’t usually a part of my encounters. The women I played with weren’t amateurs and I never pushed the limits we discussed. I wasn’t fucking callous enough to think a woman could be taken to that place without being cared for, so I avoided going there.

  There was no avoiding it with Ember. She might have wanted it, might have gotten off huge, but she was still new to it all. It was another reason I should have steered clear, or just stuck to vanilla fucking. I just couldn’t resist the draw of her, or the desire she clearly had for what I gave her. If that meant taking care of her in the aftermath, I would. The way she’d taken what I’d given her was fucking worth it. And it was worth the effort to secure the chance of doing it again, doing more.

  Ember had fallen asleep by the time I got back to her. I went to pick her up when the memory of her flashback after Daz grabbed her halted me. Instead, I put a hand to her shoulder, giving her a little shake.

  “Ember.”

  She stirred, her eyes blinking open. There was a tiredness there that had nothing to do with what we’d done. It was deeper than that, the kind of exhaustion I’d been living for years.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Got a bath for you,” I told her. “Relax your muscles.”

  “Mmmm. Bath is good. Sleep is better,” she murmured in response.

  I didn’t smile. I didn’t laugh at how she was fuckin’ cute, too tired after I fucked her to even get in the bath and relax. But I felt the stir of those reactions, something I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

 
; Something I hadn’t had since Jamie gave it to me.

  I chased that thought out.

  “You can sleep after,” I told her.

  “Nope. Gotta go back to the gym, get my car, drive home.”

  “You can stay here. Take you to get your car in the morning.” The words were out of my mouth before I took a fucking second to think them through.

  As soon as they were out there, I realized how fucking stupid I was being. Stay here? Women didn’t stay here. I fucked them, they left. The bath was already more than what was usually offered. Now I was letting Ember stay the night?

  “Really?” she asked, maybe almost as surprised as I was for suggesting it.

  No, I thought.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Fuck.

  She didn’t get excited, though I wondered if that was a forced reaction. She just said, “Okay.”

  Okay. I helped her up, knowing better than she did how unsteady she’d be. I gave her a hand getting to and settling into the bath, then left her to it. Both of us weren’t fitting in that tub, and anyway, I didn’t need to do anything else to get her on the wrong page about what was happening here.

  While she did that, I swapped out the sheets on my bed, since it had been a while. With that done, I went to the living room. I didn’t have cable. Didn’t think it was worth paying for when I was here so little. I hadn’t been in the place long. I moved here from the farmhouse the club owned just a couple months ago, but still spent most nights at the clubhouse.

  I grabbed a book, one I’d read before, which was a good choice because I wasn’t retaining any of it. Instead, I was listening. There were muffled sounds of Ember moving in the water. Eventually, more motion followed by the gurgle of the drain. I went back to my room so I’d be there when she got out.