by Jo Davis
Sometimes a woman needed tender lovemaking, hearts, and roses. And sometimes she needed darkness and lightning, a storm to wash away the loneliness and longing, to make things new. He gave her that and more, flesh slapping in tempo as he claimed what she offered, made it his. She wished she could turn and see him, run her palms over his muscles, cup his ass as it flexed while he drove into her. Maybe next time. A girl can hope.
The familiar tingle in her sex became a spark. Flared and caught fire, unraveling her control. Her orgasm hit hard and she cried out, distantly aware that his agents probably heard. She couldn’t care less. The feeling of him riding her through the pulsing waves was too incredible. Suddenly he stiffened and gave one last plunge, cock jerking inside her as he was overcome by his own release.
She wasn’t sure how long they stayed locked together, his hot breath wafting against her neck. But after a bit, his softened cock slipped from her and he moved away. Pushing from the wall, she turned and saw him disposing of the condom. She averted her eyes, wondering why the sight should bother her after what they’d done. Somehow his cleaning himself in front of her seemed more intimate than the act itself.
Scanning the area for her clothes, she found them carefully draped over a nearby crate rather than tossed on the filthy ground as she’d assumed. His thoughtfulness warmed her, but the awkward silence that fell between them stilled her tongue. Now came the doubts and recriminations. The utter stupidity of fucking her boss notwithstanding, she could not possibly have let herself become hung up on a more unattainable man.
Men, she mentally corrected. Because she wanted this with Bastian, too.
As for Michael, he’d been mourning his dead wife for months, and was just starting to come out the other side. Or so it appeared. She suspected the truth wasn’t that simple and likely played a large part in his withdrawal now. What other factors came into play, she didn’t know him well enough on a personal level to say. And it depressed her to realize that dynamic might not change any time soon.
She pulled on her underwear and pants while Michael tucked himself away and waited. Determined to dispel the unease, she walked to him and cupped his cheek. Brushed her lips against his in a feathery kiss. “Thank you.”
He blinked in the darkness. “Katrina… Don’t thank me. I was selfish, and it never should’ve happened.”
Here we go.
“Because you’re my boss? I’m a grown woman and you didn’t take advantage of me,” she pointed out. “Quite the opposite, in fact, so you don’t need to be concerned that I’ll cry foul.”
“That’s not the only reason.” Taking her arm, he gently steered her in the direction they’d come.
“Dietz?”
He sighed. “What the hell was I thinking? If he believes I care about you, it could put you in danger. Christ, I’m an idiot.”
“And do you care about me?” she asked softly.
His voice was quiet. “Yes, I do. More than I should.” He didn’t elaborate, but she hadn’t expected him to. Letting the matter go, she allowed him to escort her into the club again to find their friends. She told herself he was right, that this had been a onetime thing and it was best that way. It wasn’t until they arrived at their table once more that she realized there was another consequence of her interlude with Michael, one she’d pushed to the back of her mind as they’d left earlier.
She recalled it as she saw the pain brimming in Bastian’s green eyes.
“Don’t you think you ought to slow down on those?” Blaze questioned, brow furrowed in apparent worry.
Bastian gazed down at his third — or was it fourth? — drink and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
He tried to come up with one good reason to slack off on the booze, but nothing came to mind. What else did he have to do? His best friend and a beautiful woman had disappeared outside, and from the heat sizzling in the air, he knew why.
Michael and Katrina. Two people he wanted more than anyone. They’d deserted him without a thought.
No, he wasn’t nearly drunk enough. Maybe there wasn’t that much alcohol in the city to deaden the pain. But he could try.
Blaze and Emma shared a look, and she gave a slight nod. Bastian wondered what that was about and then decided he didn’t give a shit. Suddenly, he needed to be invisible. To get the fuck out of here and find a place to be alone. He had an empty condo waiting that he hadn’t seen since Michael’s shooting, and this seemed like the perfect time to return there, despite Michael’s having asked him to stay at the estate.
He doesn’t need me anymore, so why the torture? I can’t stand this. Not one more second.
A hand on his arm brought him out of his dark thoughts, and he looked at Emma. Her expressive eyes set in a striking, angular face regarded him with something very unlike pity. The heat in them got his attention, bringing him, however briefly, out of his morose mood. Reaching out, she traced his lips with one finger, the invitation clear even before she spoke.
“Come home with us tonight?”
The words were like an oasis in hell and he savored them, his plans to be alone turning to dust. He should decline, but he felt a little too desperate. A lot too raw. He needed someone to care, to take his mind and body someplace wonderful, if only for the next few hours. However, the ounce of pride he had left urged him to put up a token resistance.
“I’m not certain that’s a good idea,” he said, glancing at Blaze. Had his friend ever told Emma that he’d fucked Bastian senseless while she’d been held hostage by Dietz? The dark-haired man gave no indication, but Emma put his concern to rest.
“I know you guys played once,” she said with a little smile. “It’s totally fine as long as I’m the only girl he fucks.”
Her blunt honesty startled a laugh out of him. “Really? Well, I don’t know. Your man was almost more than I could handle. The two of you together? I might not survive.”
“Oh, we’re very sure you’ll do better than survive.” Leaning over, she nibbled the outside of his ear, kissed the sensitive skin behind it. “Trust us and we’ll take you on a nice trip, no luggage required.”
Crap, he’d have to be dead not to respond, and from his dick’s prompt reaction, he was far from his eternal sleep. This evening might be salvaged after all — if he could just get Michael out of his heart and keep Katrina from stealing a bigger piece of it than she already had.
At that moment, his best friend and the woman in question appeared at their table. Hair mussed, faces flushed, clothing not quite put to rights. Agony lanced Bastian’s chest, and he thought the punch of a bullet probably hurt less than knowing what they’d been doing.
Tearing his eyes from them, he forced a smile for Emma. “Make that a definite yes. I’d love to.”
Michael’s voice was tight. “Love to what?”
The coldness of his own tone shocked him as he rose from his seat and leaned in to Michael, speaking for his ears only. “Get my ass reamed again by Blaze’s magnificent cock while I eat his woman’s pussy, that’s what. And I can’t wait.”
Oh, right there. A direct hit. Michael’s jaw went slack, his expression priceless. A big crack in the bastard’s unflappable calm. Bastian turned back to his companions.
“Ready when you are.”
With that, he made his way through the crowd, trusting the couple to follow. And he didn’t look back.
Six
His cell phone trilled a greeting, and Dietz glanced at the display. His contact knew better than to phone with anything less than spectacular news, and his gut tightened. He picked up on the second ring.
“What do you have?”
“Got something on Ross. Looks like he’s snared himself a new woman.”
His eyebrow arched in surprise. This was one piece of news he hadn’t been expecting. “Who is she?”
“Some gorgeous redhead he called Katrina.”
His pulse quickened, his mind already working this to his advantage. “Brandt?”
“Don’
t know, but I’ll find out. Ross and Chevalier showed up at Shakers tonight to party with the woman, an armed watch in tow, of course.”
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did Michael believe him to be that stupid, to make a move at the most obvious time? “And then?”
“They went inside, and Ross came out with the woman a while later, took her into the alley, and fucked her brains out.” He chuckled nastily. “I beat off like a house afire, and my dick will still be hard for a week.”
“That was more information than I needed.”
“Hey, sorry.” He didn’t sound contrite at all.
“This is an interesting development. Keep me informed so I can decide how to best use this against him.”
“Will do.”
Dietz snapped his phone shut and sat thinking for a very long time.
Yes, he would use this to his advantage, if necessary.
Right after Chevalier was dead and buried.
On the sidewalk, Bastian waited for Blaze and Emma to catch up, using the few moments to get a handle on his runaway emotions. Trouble was, he wasn’t an expert at compartmentalizing, as Michael was. He couldn’t tuck those pesky, inconvenient feelings into labeled boxes and shove them deep in a closet. Like when Bastian confessed his love to Michael, and the man married Maggie almost in a blind panic.
That’s not fair. Maggie’s death nearly destroyed him and he grieved for months.
Okay, so maybe it was just Bastian’s issue. Michael couldn’t express feelings he didn’t have, and Bastian couldn’t let go. I have to. Somehow, I’ve got to move on.
Blaze joined him on the sidewalk, Emma close behind. “Michael called the team and they’re sending a couple of agents to trail us and watch my house while you’re there.”
Bastian grimaced. “God, I hadn’t even thought of the danger I’m putting you two in by going with you. I should go home.” He’d been thinking with his cock, and had also been focused on striking out at Michael.
“Forget it,” Emma said. “We’ve got a date and we’re not letting you wimp out.”
“It’ll be good for you to unwind for a while.” Blaze’s golden gaze pinned him. “To forget. Besides, Emma and I are already on Dietz’s hit list because we destroyed his plans for the weapon he stole, and the money we cost him as a result. You’re not bringing any more trouble than we’ve already got.”
He gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”
They climbed into a sedan Bastian assumed was Emma’s, because Blaze drove a snazzy Viper. Bastian settled in the backseat and tried to shake off the feeling of being the perpetual fifth wheel. Which was ridiculous. He would relax and enjoy tonight, whatever it took.
“I take it Michael still hasn’t come around,” Blaze said, pulling out of the parking lot.
Bastian snorted. “Are you kidding? He — Wait a second. I told you I was in love with someone, but I never said with whom.” Before Michael was shot, he’d made the confession to Kelly in a moment of weakness, leaving out his friend’s name. He thought he’d been careful, but apparently not enough.
“Reality check: it’s so obvious to everyone within a ten-mile radius, you might as well put up a billboard. I guessed a long time ago.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t sweat it. We’re not going to say anything to anyone.” Emma voiced her agreement.
“I know. It’s just that I feel… pathetic. The man is so straight, his ass cheeks play ‘U Can’t Touch This’ when he walks.”
His friends cracked up, and Bastian couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t meant it as a joke, but the visual was pretty funny. And it went a long way toward lightening the mood as Blaze drove them to his house, the one he now shared with Emma.
Twenty minutes later, Blaze pulled into the drive and parked. Bastian tried to ignore the headlights of the car that followed them and parked on the street, and forget the reason the two agents were protecting them. He’d like to believe Dietz had called off his vendetta and skipped the country, but knew the odds of the asshole giving up so easily were slim.
They went inside, Blaze locking the door behind him. He looked at Bastian. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Beer?”
“Nope. You’ve had enough, and besides…” He leered at Bastian’s crotch. “Too much alcohol has a negative effect on the equipment.”
Damn. “You’re right. No, I’m fine.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Good. Now, the first thing we’re gonna do is some loving therapy to release all that tension in you, before you break in half.” He gestured to a door that Bastian knew hid a stairwell. “In my basement.”
Bastian swallowed, excitement flooding his veins at the memory of his initiation into Blaze’s world as a hard-core Dom. More like a taste, really. Bastian could never live that lifestyle on a permanent basis, but he’d discovered that every now and then, he enjoyed putting himself in a Dom’s capable hands. Letting his worries slide into oblivion, knowing he was safe in Blaze’s realm of rules and clear-cut expectations. All he had to do was place his trust in this man, just be, and the rest would take care of itself.
They descended the stairs, Blaze in the lead. At the bottom, the other man turned to him. “Have your needs changed since we made your contract?”
No one did a scene with the Dom without a contract, no matter how infrequent he saw the person. They’d agreed on one together the first and only time Bastian had accompanied him here. Bastian shook his head.
“Good. Safe word?”
He had to think a few seconds before he remembered. “Sable.” The color of Michael’s hair. God.
“All right. Strip.” The Dom looked at Emma, a glint in his eyes. “Both of you.”
Bastian couldn’t help but stare at Emma as she complied, and took notice of her toned, athletic body. She wasn’t his usual type, if he even had one, with her short blond hair and kick-ass attitude to match her physique. But she intrigued him. Aroused him. It still amazed him to see the woman turn to butter when Blaze so much as crooked his finger. Bastian had to admit his friend was a lucky guy.
Quickly, Bastian removed his clothes and folded them neatly, then placed them on a nearby chair. He faced the other man and stood with his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to ask what came next. Blaze would tell him.
Bastian’s cock, already half-hard, rose to full mast when Blaze came over and thumbed his nipple ring. Took it in his fingers and twisted, sending an arc of delight coursing from the tortured tip to his groin.
“Just one pierced? Too bad the other one isn’t done.” He bent and licked the nub, then took it and the ring into his mouth, suckling.
Bastian sucked in a breath, unable to recall the last person who’d played with it, which was a shame. His nipples were one of his erogenous zones, and he loved this.
Blaze straightened. “Emma, bring me that leather strap from the equipment table.”
“Yes, sir.” She hurried to get it and returned, holding it out for his inspection.
“This will do perfectly.”
For what? He didn’t have to wait long to find out.
The Dom addressed Emma again. “Use the strap to bind our boy’s cock and balls properly.”
“Yes, sir!” She knelt, putting her face tantalizingly near Bastian’s crotch.
His heart sped up. He had a pretty good idea what the binding involved, but he’d never experienced it before.
“The binding will keep you from coming until I’m ready,” Blaze explained, as though he’d sensed Bastian’s unspoken question. “You’re wound too tight, and your body needs this. You can’t reach your zone if you’re worried about your cock and coming. I’m going to take that worry from you. Do you understand?”
“I think so.” He wasn’t sure he did, but he trusted Blaze to show him.
Emma went to work, her clever fingers gently weaving the strap around and between his balls, separating and lifting th
em. It felt strange but not painful. Definitely erotic, the sight of the thin black leather crisscrossing up the length of his turgid shaft. Being restrained and artfully presented at the same time.
“Finished, sir.”
“Excellent work.” To Bastian, he said, “See that padded bench over there? Go bend over it and stand with your legs spread, a bit wider than your shoulders.”
“Okay.”
His eyes narrowed. “The correct response is ‘Yes, sir.’ ”
“I’m sorry. Yes, sir.”
“Good boy. Now get going.”
He did as he was told, excitement building, sharpened by a sliver of fear. He knew Blaze wouldn’t injure him, but this was new territory. He wasn’t used to giving another man total control over his body, and every instinct he possessed as an agent screamed out against being restrained. His more passionate side, however, the one that sometimes craved a darker brand of loving, arched like a cat being scratched.
At the bench, he bent over, turned his head to the side, and rested it on the padding, and spread his feet as he was told. He was hyperaware of how the position exposed him to whatever Blaze wished to do. He wondered how the binding, this scene, was supposed to help him relax and find his zone, as the man called it.
Blaze came up behind him, smoothed a palm over his shoulders and back. “These knots in your muscles are like boulders. You’ve been under a terrible amount of stress since Michael was shot, haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” he whispered. “I feel…”
“Tired, wrung out, unappreciated?”
Fuck, that about summed it up. He could only nod.
“We’re going to help you with that,” his friend returned softly. “Trust us.”
“I do.”
“Then let’s begin. I’m going to bind your wrists to these rings at each end of the bench. Emma is going to kneel behind you and do some prep work for our session.”
Prep work? Sounded ominous. Excitement battled with nerves as the Dom tied his wrists to the rings, leaving him thoroughly trussed. As Blaze stood off to the side, a hand skimmed over his hip and buttocks. Emma, getting ready to prepare him. Jesus.