by Shelly Bell
Dreama’s attention was caught by the sound of a man’s deep growl coming from the next scene over. The rough voice sent shivers through her body, hardening her nipples.
Hope filled her chest. Lord, she hadn’t even seen the man yet and her body was responding. She sent up a silent plea that the voice belonged to an available Dominant.
With an intentional sway of her hips, she left her spot within the crowd and strolled toward the next scene.
A female top was whipping her male bottom. The man stood with his back to her with his arms overhead and his wrists shackled by chains that dangled from the metal frame above him. A spreader bar between his muscular thighs forced his legs apart and cuffs connected to metal posts in the floor restrained his ankles.
She felt a pang of disappointment that the man wasn’t a Dominant. Oh well. With her stupid phobia of a man’s touch, it wasn’t as if she could do anything about it anyway. That didn’t mean she couldn’t watch and enjoy the simmering in her pussy and the tingling of her clit. Maybe she’d leave here horny enough to break out her box of toys tonight and reacquaint herself with her favorite vibrator.
The man’s body was perfection. Wide shoulders made way to a narrow waist and thick thighs. Sweat glistened on his honey-colored skin and his perfectly contoured ass clenched with each lash of the whip.
Dueling emotions warred within her. Part of her wanted to push the man out of the way and take his place beneath the whip. She could almost feel the fiery sting of the tail flicking her skin. But the other part wanted to drag her tongue along the outline of his shoulder blades and press her naked self against his back as she did it.
She literally ached to see the front of him, and thankfully, there was nothing to stop her from doing it. She repositioned herself on the other side of the scene to get a better view.
Her pulse quickened to double time. For the briefest of moments, she thought she was hallucinating. The man looked exactly like Cash, but her mind had to be playing tricks on her. Cash would never be at a BDSM club, and even if he was, she couldn’t imagine him being on the receiving end of a whip.
She blinked a few times and took a step closer.
She wasn’t hallucinating.
It was Cash. He was there, as if she’d summoned him with her thoughts.
But what the hell was he doing on that side of the whip? She supposed it was possible he was a switch or a masochist like herself, but she’d never been attracted to a submissive man. And there was no question, she was attracted to him.
His front was even better than his back. He wasn’t ripped, but the muscles of his arms and chest were impressive just the same. If she had to describe his body in one word, she’d describe him as…solid. She could only imagine the power it could harness. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself flipped over his lap, him fisting her hair in one hand while smacking her ass red with his other.
Growing damp between her thighs, she sucked her lower lip into her mouth as she unabashedly took in the rest of him. Her gaze followed the trail of brown hair that started between his nipples and ended between the V line at his hips…and then down to the heavier nest of dark curls surrounding his cock.
Although still impressive in size, his cock hung limp against his thigh. It was obvious to her Cash wasn’t a masochist or his dick would be as hard as steel right now. So why was he there in a BDSM club getting whipped?
Cash opened his eyes. Only a second passed until his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened at the sight of her standing there.
A voice inside her head whispered that watching him was inappropriate and that she ought to give him his privacy. But her feet were glued to the floor.
His gaze felt like a gentle caress as it slowly raked over her, leaving goose bumps in its wake. A fierce tug of want spiraled in her pelvis. Her pussy clenched relentlessly, aching for Cash’s cock to fill her, and her arousal soaked the gusset of her panties.
Her body sparked to life as if she were a candle and Cash the flame.
Damn it. Out of everyone in the world, why did her parolee have to be the one to finally ignite her?
Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they drifted down to where the drenched fabric covered her needy pussy. For the first time in thirteen months, she slid two fingertips into her panties and pinched her pulsing clit between them. It felt so amazing, her whole body shuddered and her eyes practically rolled back into her head.
Cash’s gray eyes darkened. As he watched her touch herself, his cock lengthened and thickened until fully erect. She didn’t go around measuring dicks, but she’d been around a lot of them in her time, and Cash’s was one of the longest and thickest she’d ever seen in person. She shifted her hand, using the pad of her thumb to rub her sensitive bud in circles as she plunged two of her fingers inside of her.
A tortured moan spilled from her throat.
She’d barely gotten started and she was already on the precipice of coming.
She wished it was Cash’s fingers on her and in her. That it was his thumb caressing her clitoris as two of his thickest fingers penetrated her opening.
Cash looked hungry for her, even as his face contorted in pain from the whip. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and pearly drops of liquid gathered at the tip of his cock. She ached to take him deep into the cavern of her mouth and taste every bit of him until she sucked him dry. Even in chains, he was Dominating her.
Tension coiled in her belly, her muscles tightening as heat raged inside her core. Her pussy throbbed in time with her pulse as she fucked herself on her fingers, pretending they belonged to Cash. And then, the impossible happened. That tension uncoiled like a spool of thread, pushing her over the edge and into a freefall. A rush of boiling heat poured through her pussy and outward, shooting up to the top of her head and down to the ends of her toes. The strength of the climax nearly knocked her off her feet.
Holy shit. She’d had an orgasm. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Maybe she’d do both.
Cash burned a hole straight into her with his stare. His expression had gone from hungry to ravenous. He said something to his top and the whipping stopped. Dreama’s heart was playing jump rope as she watched the woman move closer to Cash and reach around his waist.
If the top did what Dreama currently wanted to do to Cash, she couldn’t bear to watch. It would crush her to see another woman’s hands or mouth on him. But rather than do what Dreama expected, the top released Cash’s right wrist from the cuff.
Cash immediately wrapped his beautiful fingers around his cock and began to stroke himself from base to tip. Her gaze zeroed in on it with laser precision focus. She’d never seen a sexier image in her life.
Tossing back his head and shouting her name loud enough she could hear it over all the noise in the club, he climaxed, milky-white streaks of semen bathing his stomach, cock, and even the floor. It was beautiful. It was a sight she wanted to see again…
But never could.
Oh my God.
Reality sucked the lingering pleasure from her body like a vacuum.
What had she done?
As Cash’s parole officer, she’d just crossed a line she never should have. If anyone at the parole office found out about this, she’d lose her job. Meg would relish the opportunity to fire her. In under ten minutes, she’d proven her mother right. Just swap out Cash for the Hot Pocket. She didn’t make healthy decisions. She was irresponsible, thinking little of the consequences of her actions.
Cash’s top handed him a towel and then began the process of removing his restraints.
The right thing would be to stay and talk with him about what just happened, but she couldn’t face him, not now when all her emotions were raw. She took a step backward and mouthed “Sorry” to him right before turning around and fleeing like a coward.
Desperate to find Dreama, Cash declined his Dominatrix’s offer of aftercare and quickly dressed, tugging his T-shirt over his head and shoving his legs into a pair of sweats.
He flinched at the pain coursing through his body from the move. There would be time later to deal with it. Right then, he had more pressing matters at hand. He had to find Dreama.
He’d been shocked to open his eyes and see her standing behind the velvet ropes. He’d initially thought she was a mirage. Only seconds later, he’d processed that she was really there.
That was all it took for a shot of lust to slam into him and the pain from the whip to disappear. It was as if it wasn’t happening at all. He only saw Dreama. Thank fuck he’d been in chains, because he’d wanted to claim her, right then and there, and show everyone that she belonged to him.
He wouldn’t have been nice about it either. If he’d had his wish, he would’ve pushed her to her knees, shoved his bare cock into her pussy, and fucked her so hard, she’d be both crying for him to stop and for more. He’d squeeze his hands around her neck to show her what it was like to truly submit to him. Her life would literally be in his hands as he exerted pressure on her windpipe. And just as her cunt convulsed with her orgasm, he’d yank himself out of her and come all over her ass. Then to show everyone he and Dreama belonged together, he’d force her to stroll around the club with her skirt hiked up and their mixed cum sliding down her legs.
Even in her boring-as-fuck professional wear, she was fucking sexy, but in leather and lace? She was a goddess, and he wanted to worship at the altar of her pussy. She tempted him like heroin to a junkie. One single hit of her would be his downfall, but it didn’t make him want her any less. There was some kind of connection between them. He’d felt it the day he’d met her and at the shelter, and now he knew she felt it too. Tonight, that connection had sizzled between them like a downed live power line twisted up in tree branches.
Fully clothed, he strode toward the entrance of the club. As he approached, he swore he saw a flash of Buddy walking out the front door, but it was hard to tell since he saw the guy from the back. He’d have to remember to ask Buddy if it was him the next time they worked together and thank him for giving him the card to this place.
Cash grabbed his coat at the front, hoping he could catch Dreama before she drove off, but unsure of what he was going to say if he did.
He wanted her to know that the pink scars on her arms and legs did nothing to diminish her beauty and that if their situation was different, he would have loved to take her out to dinner and discover everything there was to learn about her.
But he wasn’t sure she’d want to hear any of that. He didn’t know what was going through her mind. That’s why they needed to talk.
Cold air slapped him in the face as he stepped outside. It wasn’t snowing, but the wind was blowing so hard, it made it seem as if it was. After being locked up for years, he wasn’t ever going to complain about the weather. His freedom was worth more than that.
He spotted Dreama about twenty feet ahead and stomped toward her. Her head was down as she began to cross the road.
An engine revved from his right. Without streetlights, he could just barely make out the shape of the car in the middle of the road. Headlights off, it was speeding down the street…and it was aiming straight for Dreama.
NINE
Cash’s heart catapulted out of his chest as he took off running. “Dreama, get out of the road!”
Standing in the middle of the street, Dreama glanced over her shoulder in his direction before turning her head toward the speeding car.
Cash harnessed every bit of energy inside of him and raced into the street. The engine’s roar grew louder as the car got closer.
Dreama had almost made it to the snowy berm on the other side of the street when the car shifted its course from the middle of the road to the far right. With Dreama’s limp slowing her down, she was never going to get out of the way in time.
Like he was back on the football field, he tackled her. The force of it propelled them off their feet and onto the mound of snow just milliseconds before the vehicle rushed by them…and over the exact spot where Dreama had just been. Pain from the whip flared in his back, but it was worth it because Dreama was safe.
Cash watched as the car kept going and turned left onto the next street. The noise of the engine quieted, eventually dying off.
Dreama whimpered, jolting him into awareness. Cash suddenly realized that he was lying on top of her with his groin nestled between her spread thighs. He enjoyed exactly two seconds of it before he heard her crying beneath him.
Oh shit.
Had he injured her?
He catapulted his body off hers and knelt beside her in the snow. “Dreama? Are you okay?”
Her eyes were shut but tears rolled down her cheeks. “It hurts. Make it stop.”
Guilt wrapped around his chest and crushed it. He must have pushed her too hard. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Tell me where it hurts.” He swept his thumb over her cheek, catching a tear.
She rolled her head from side to side. “Don’t touch me! Leave me alone. Your hands are burning me!”
What did she mean his hands were burning her?
He snatched his hand back when it hit him. “Fuck.” How could he have forgotten about her phobia? He was such an idiot. He might have saved her from the car, but his actions had thrown her straight into a panic attack. “Dreama. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.”
Her entire body shook and her teeth were shattering. “Oh God! It hurts. It hurts.”
He needed to move her from the snow. “Dreama, can you stand? You’re freezing, honey.”
Not responding to him, she continued to mumble a bunch of senseless words he didn’t understand. He didn’t have a choice. She needed to get warm.
He carefully scooped her up and carried her toward his car, ignoring how right she felt in his arms. She didn’t fight him, but she seemed as if she was lost in a nightmare that she couldn’t wake from, sobbing and whimpering.
What had happened to cause her panic attacks? Were they related to her scars?
Judging by the color of the scars, whatever had made them had occurred relatively recently. They were bright pink, as if they’d only begun the healing process, and from what he could tell, they were straight rather than jagged, much like surgical scars. He couldn’t help thinking that if Maddie had survived the crash, she would have been left with scars much like Dreama’s.
The two women couldn’t be more different. Maddie never would have gone to a place like Club X. Although she’d played the part of a sexual submissive, he now understood she hadn’t been one. She’d indulged his fetishes because she hadn’t wanted to lose him, but the fact was, he wasn’t sure Maddie had even enjoyed sex. As soon as he’d married her, she’d given him excuse after excuse to avoid making love.
Dreama, on the other hand, had come to Club X on her own. She overflowed with sexuality and sensuality. Her eyes had radiated so much heat, he practically saw the flames in them. And the steampunk corset dress she wore had to be one of the hottest and most unusual pieces of lingerie he’d ever seen. The way the fabric had accentuated her curves and molded to her breasts had set his blood on fire. Something told him Dreama enjoyed sex…a lot.
As he neared his car, he gazed down at the trembling woman in his arms. He would much rather she be trembling for a reason other than fear. How could such a sexual creature go without touch? She’d been so brave to come to the club tonight. He only wished there was something he could do to help her.
Then again, it hadn’t gone well for anyone the last time he’d tried to help a woman. Although Dreama and Maddie had plenty of differences, he had to remind himself they had one huge thing in common—emotional baggage. And they weren’t the only ones. He had enough baggage to open his own luggage store. He wasn’t qualified to help Dreama.
Once he settled her into the passenger seat of his car, he circled around to the other side and slid into the driver’s seat, turning on the engine and cranking up the heat to full blast.
“Dreama?” Speaking softly, he leaned across the center console. “You�
��re safe now. No one is going to hurt you. Do you hear me? I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again.”
It took a couple minutes before her murmuring stopped and her eyes fluttered. “Cash? What happened?” She looked out the passenger window and then at him. “Where am I?”
“My car.” Relieved she was okay, he let out a breath. He ran his hand over his buzz cut. “What do you last remember?”
“Um…” Her brows furrowed. “Crossing the street. You called out to me and I heard a car.” Her eyes popped wide. “You pushed me out of the way.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice. That car would have hit you if I hadn’t. My touch triggered a panic attack. I couldn’t leave you in the snow, so I brought you to my car. I swear, Dreama, I never would have touched you if it wasn’t necessary.” It was the truth and yet, it was also a lie. Despite all the reasons it would be a bad idea, he feared if she ever asked, he wouldn’t have the strength to resist her. “How do you feel? Are you hurt?”
She gave him a little smile and held her hands up to the vents. “Only my pride.”
Now that she was safe and sound, he pulled his cell from his coat pocket. “We need to call the police.”
Her brows dipped. “And say what? Some kid was speeding? Believe me, the Detroit cops have better things to do with their time.”
“Dreama, whoever it was intentionally tried to hit you. The headlights were off and he increased his speed the closer he got to you.” Not to mention he’d aimed right for her. There was no mistaking the driver had intended to run her down. Had Dreama been a random victim? Or had the driver waited specifically for her?