by Jo Raven
“He hurt you,” he growls, and takes my hand, lowers it, tangles his fingers with mine—and it feels nice. Warm. “Someone hurt you.”
“It doesn’t matter. Rescue came. The police. Picked everyone up, took us to the ER.” I look down at our hands, clasped together. “Her parents paid me a lot to keep silent about what happened. They gave me money and moved away with her.”
“You never told anyone?” His eyes are wide, so wide they look silver like crescent moons.
“I’m telling you.”
“Christ. But you pressed charges, sent the assholes to jail, right? Tell me you did.”
“I did.” He sags a little, but as a counterpoint his fingers tighten around mine. I don’t mind. It doesn’t scare me. It feels reassuring that he’s so concerned. “But I swore not to tell anyone else—friends, the press. I guess I was paid for my service, too. For my silence.”
“As long as the assholes got put away, and you’re safe,” he murmurs. “You’re all that matters. Who cares what others think.”
My whole body strains toward him. I’m dying to kiss him again. He makes me feel...important. Precious.
Yeah, right, Pax. Wake up.
“Anyway, now you know. Guess I broke my oath and I should give that money back.” Reluctantly I withdraw my hand from his, feeling instantly cold. “I should be going.”
“Don’t. Don’t run away again.”
“Our time is up.” I’m joking, but his jaw tightens.
“Will I see you again?”
An appointment? I thought I wouldn’t ask for another, but seeing him here, the feel of his soft lips still on my fingertips, I can’t remember why not.
“You said it helped, what we did,” he whispers, and a flash of heat goes through me. “That it’s better now.”
“Yeah, it is. But I’m not sure—”
“I’d do anything to help you, Pax. Anything. More than I’ve ever done willingly with anyone. I’d let you tie me to the bedpost. I told you I would, didn’t I?” He swallows hard as I gape at him. “How about this? You reverse what happened to you. You do it to me, then make up for it. Fix it. Won’t that help?”
Does it matter if it does or not? The image of him tied up—naked and aroused—is hitting me like a wall of bricks. Don’t know if I can formulate a reply.
So I just shake my head and walk away.
Chapter Ten
Riot
The appointment came through. Johnson sounded way too interested when he informed me. Asked who this young lady is who keeps booking me.
Told him to fuck off and mind his own business. Probably not the best way to talk to the boss’s nephew, but seriously, fuck him. He’d better stay away from Pax.
All men better stay away from her.
Jesus, Riot.
And I shouldn’t be going about my day like I’m floating on air because I’m meeting her tonight. Goddamn stupid. I’m so distracted I’m late for one of my appointments and the client is so upset with me she sends me away.
Explain that to Johnson now. Shit.
The next appointment goes better—at least I find the place in time, even wait a little. The woman is okay. She’s nice, not bad-looking, and doesn’t want anything weird.
Some talking. Some kissing. But I just can’t get into it. She tastes wrong. Feels wrong.
Not Pax. She’s not Pax, dammit.
I’m so out of sorts I leave her house forgetting my bike. My fucking bike. That’s not happening. When has that ever happened to me? Un-fucking-believable.
Grumbling, I return to get the bike, then I remember who I’m meeting later on and grin to myself.
Oh man, that’s it, I’ve gone off the deep end. It’s as if I’m fall—
No. Fuck no. That only happens to morons, to soft mama’s boys who think the world is all roses and fluffy clouds.
Not to men who know life, like me.
I’ve never fallen in love. I don’t believe in love. And that’s all there is to it.
***
Same hotel, same lobby, same fucking potted plants and the receptionist girl batting her lashes at me.
I’m early. Always early when I meet Pax. I just wish we could take this somewhere else, somewhere without prying eyes and awkward memories. Start fresh. Clean slate.
As what, then? Girlfriend and boyfriend? Get real.
“Do you need something?” the girl asks. “Something I can help you with?”
“Waiting for someone.”
She says something more that I ignore and lounge by the plants, hands in my pockets, head tipped back. Like every time, I think she might not come. Change her mind.
As the minutes tick by, different scenarios flip through my head. She forgot about it. She made plans with another guy. She decided on another escort. She had a flat tire. She got kidnapped. She—
The doors slide open and she’s there. Slim, pretty, in her charcoal coat and high heels, her dark hair coming out of her ponytail to frame her face.
Uncertain.
Goddamn perfect.
Can’t believe my relief that she made it. That she wanted it enough to come. I grin at her and see her eyes light up, her mouth curve up in a smile.
She makes my breath catch.
I follow her to the desk where she asks for her key, and put my arm around her waist. She stiffens a little but doesn’t pull away.
Win.
The silly reception girl looks like she’s going to have a fit of rage. I drag Pax away before I do or say anything that might cost me my job, and head to the elevators.
Same path, same steps, and yet different. She’s better. She called and made an appointment.
She’s here.
I take the key from her, open the door and usher her inside. She’s still smiling, and I’m grinning.
Get a grip, Riot. Nothing has really changed.
That’s right. It hasn’t. That serves to sober me up as I turn toward her and she pulls her hand free and takes a step back. She’s better. Not fine.
Not yet. Need to work on that. Find a way to make her lose all fear.
“Hey.” I don’t reach for her, let my hands hang loose. Safe. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”
That brings back her bright smile. “You are?”
“Shit yeah.” I nod. “Can I hold your hand again?”
She giggles, but she gives me her hand and I take it in mine carefully as if it might break.
“What did you wanna do today?”
“I said you should tell me. Forgot about that?”
I haven’t, but I’m not gonna start giving her orders without asking her. “Will you let me touch you today?”
She gulps. Too soon, I guess.
I stroke my thumb over her fingers. “Will you touch me, then?”
“Like last time?”
“If you like.”
“You said…” Red rises to her pale cheeks.
“I said what?”
“At the bar.” The color deepens. “That you’d let me.”
“Let you what, Pax?” She tries to pull her hand away, but I don’t let her. Not yet. “If I said it, I’ll do it. Tell me.”
“You said you’d let me,” a gulp, “tie you down.”
That. Oh shit, that. Blood rushes south, straight to my dick, and since when do I like bondage?
“Then you’ll tie me down, baby.” I wink at her, happy to see her relax a little. “Do with me whatever the hell you like.”
***
She doesn’t know how to tie the ropes. I help her the best I can. Help her tie me up. Never thought I’d see the day. The knots are a bit too tight, but that’s all right. A bit of pain goes a long way when you need to keep in control.
And boy, right now I’ll need all the help I can get with that. Sitting on the king-size bed, leaning against a mound of pillows, my hands tied over my head, I wonder if I’ve lost my mind.
What a question, Riot.
Yeah.
She kneels beside me in
her pretty short skirt and silky tank top. I can see down her cleavage, the curve of her tits, and I shift on the bed, uncomfortably hard. She glances down at my crotch and her brows lift.
“You’ll have to undress me again,” I say. “Can’t do it myself.”
“Or I can leave you here like this all night. You can’t come after me.”
Shit. “That wouldn’t be so interesting for you, though. And a waste of your money.”
“Oh, you can get a lot of bang for your buck with me,” she says in a false baritone, trying to imitate my voice, and it shouldn’t be funny, but it damn well is.
I crack up. “You bet.”
She laughs with me and I hear no fear in the sound. Maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation—me, tied to the bed and us laughing like loons.
Jesus Christ.
Then she shifts, and the whole world shifts with her as she grabs the hem of my T-shirt and lifts it up. She can’t take it off, since my hands are tied, but she pulls it over my head and leaves it bunched around my arms.
As if I needed more restraints.
Maybe she’s only hiding her fear. Maybe she needs more reassurance. Which makes sense. After all it’s why we’re here, in this hotel, in this bed. In these tight bonds.
Because she’s still struggling.
“Touch me,” I whisper, not much of a command, but I feel strangely naked like this, bound in front of her. Bared to my soul.
She leans forward, stroking my chest with her fingertips and the cool strands of her dark hair. I hiss in surprise at the sensation and her hands still on my stomach. The slight weight of them is warm and the heat shoots straight to my dick.
Naturally. It’s what happens when I’m around her. She’s so close, her eyes so dark, her lips so full. Her curves so sexy, from the fullness of her tits to the narrow waist and the flare of her hips.
“Undress me,” I say huskily, wondering if I might come just from her nearness. “Undress me, Pax.”
“Yes,” she mutters, lashes lowering, and fuck it’s hot.
Hotter when her hands skim down to my crotch, brushing over my dick. I do my best to keep my hips from bucking as she works the button open and then the next. No zippers today. Button by button she undoes my jeans, and draws a sharp breath when she sees the bulge underneath.
Yeah, babe. I want her to touch my dick, put her hand around it, but she only tugs down my jeans, pulling until my feet are clear of them. Takes off my socks.
Looks up at me, and licks her lips.
Jesus. I’m so fucking hard for her. Dying to undress her, rip her clothes off and sink into her.
And I have no clue what’s going through her mind. She’s looking, taking me in as if she’s never seen me before, head tilted to the side. Thoughtful. Curious.
Aroused. Her nipples are hard peaks, her chest rising and falling fast, her eyes glittering.
Not knowing what she’ll do next is driving me crazy. This is nothing like the usual process of things. Will she touch me again? Take off my briefs? Touch my cock? Dress me again? Get up and leave?
Fucking nuts, and it’s sending even more heat down my spine to pool in my gut. The elastic of my briefs is about to snap from the tent I’ve pitched.
I’m so strung up that when she finally does move, when she bends over me so that her tits rub on my chest, I arch like a bow against the headboard.
Then her mouth presses to mine and my body short-circuits. Oh fuck, yeah. I trace her lips with my tongue, part them, thrust inside. She tastes sweet and tart. Like oranges and peaches with an aftertaste of chocolate. I can’t help the moan rising in my chest. Fucking good. Need more.
Christ, I need to grab her face, kiss her until we both run out of breath. I tug on my bonds, jerking forward, but it only serves to pull them tighter around my wrists.
Hell.
She pulls back and I try to follow, but I can’t. Panting, my dick throbbing, my blood on fire, I throw my head back and fight for control.
Not that I have a choice. Though a touch is all my dick will need to go off like a flare.
Control, Riot.
She sits back on her heels—she’s kicked off her shoes—and puts one hand on my bare thigh. Just that, and my stomach tenses, my balls draw up.
Her hand trails down to my briefs and I suck a sharp breath, the pressure in my gut rising. Oh shit, she’s pulling my briefs down, delicate fingers tugging on the elastic. A strangled moan leaves my lips when my aching cock springs free. It bobs against my stomach, the air cool on the wet crown, and she stares at it, her eyes wide as she takes in the silver dydoe piercings on top and the sides of the head of my dick.
Goddammit, never had this happen to me before—give myself over to a girl, give her the strings to pull. Never been so helplessly aroused, unable to do a thing.
Never been so sure I won’t be able to hold back.
“Pax.” I lick my lips desperately. “Listen. I’m so fucking close right now, if you do anything…anything…I’m gonna come.”
“Anything?” she asks, quiet and sweet, and damn, even the sound of her voice might be enough.
“If you kiss me, touch me, come anywhere near my dick…” I pause to catch my breath. “So, fair warning. Some women don’t like me coming at all, and you...Shit, I don’t wanna scare you off.”
I’m damn serious about this. About not wanting to scare her by coming all over both of us, but fuck, right now it’s touch and go. And besides, it’s true. Some of the clients don’t want the escort to come until the time they paid is up. To pleasure them longer, I guess?
“That’s cool,” she says and lifts her hand. “It won’t scare me.”
Damn, I’m so wired up I jerk in my bonds and my cock twitches and leaks on my stomach. Fuck me. This girl will be the death of me.
“So it’s okay if I come?” I need to know.
She nods. “What if I do two things,” she whispers, her voice like melted chocolate, “at the same time? What happens then?”
No time to respond or even think because those two things happen at once.
Her mouth captures mine in a hot kiss, and her hand closes around my dick.
I stand no chance whatsoever. My body clenches, my dick pulses, and I come like a fountain. My cum splashes on my chest, hers, too, my gasp lost in her mouth.
Holy fuck...I jerk with the aftershocks, and she’s still kissing me, her mouth soft, her hand tight around my softening dick.
When she finally pulls away, I sag against the bedpost, drowsy and sated. A tiny alarm bell is ringing inside my head, telling me something isn’t right. She’s the client. She’s the one I should be pleasuring, not the other way round.
But man...Can’t move, can’t talk. For a long while I just lie there, slumped back, trying to relearn how to breathe.
Finally, some coherent thoughts emerge.
“I thought you wanted to do to me what they did to you,” I mumble. “You know. Tie me up, touch me, then slap me.”
“Maybe I wanted to change everything,” she says. “Make a brand new memory.”
I guess that makes sense. But it doesn’t really matter. Anything this girl wants from me, I’m game.
***
“I’m sorry,” I tell her a bit later as she unties my hands from the headboard. They’re numb. Shouldn’t tie them so tightly again.
“What for?”
“I normally have more self-control. I don’t come so fast.” Great, now my professional pride is hurt. Awesome, Riot. Shut up.
“I liked it.”
I glance up, needing to see her face. She’s taken off her blouse that’s wet with my cum and put on her sweater. I didn’t even get to see her in her bra, and that sucks. My dick gives a twitch at the thought, but isn’t up to more action just yet.
Throwing my legs off the bed, I wait to see what she wants to do next. Not sure how much time has passed. Didn’t even think to ask if she booked one hour or two. I rub at the red marks on my wrists, trying to figure out where t
o go from here, when she sits down beside me.
“Let me see that,” she says and takes my hands in hers. “Does it hurt?”
“Nah, I’m fine.” Who cares if it hurts? Her fingertips are light on my wrists, her small face intent as she studies the marks. Her fingers dance up my arm, to the tattoos.
“Pax.” I wait until she looks up. “Let me touch you, too. Let’s try.”
“No.” She shakes her head, pulls away. I see the fear darkening her gaze, her defenses dropping into place. “I can’t.”
“You touched me.” Everywhere. “I want to pleasure you, too.” I swallow hard. “It’s what I’m here for, Pax.”
“Seeing you come was a pleasure,” she says, and her cheekbones flush.
It sends a bolt of hot need straight to my dick.
Down, boy. Enough.
“I want to take care of you.” I force myself not to reach for her, not when she’s skittish like a kitten. “I want to make you come, too. You’re beautiful.”
Her flush deepens. “God, I wish...I wish I could do this already.”
Sex. God, I wish that, too.
“It’s okay.” Stupid, Riot, pushing her when she’s not ready. What she did today blew my mind. “You’re not afraid of me anymore, are you?”
“I don’t think so.” A faint smile that makes my heart pound, and then she’s on her feet.
Moving away from me, like every time. Leaving.
Sitting naked on the bed, making no move to dress, I watch her gather her things and prepare to go. I don’t ask her if I’ll see her again.
Christ. I shouldn’t. I really fucking shouldn’t. Shouldn’t go after her, ask her to stay.
Please, Pax. Please stay. I rub my hands over my face, press the heels of my palms into my eyes. What’s happening to me?
Chapter Eleven
Paxtyn
Riot tied to the bed. Naked. Head thrown back, long lashes hiding his eyes, his body trembling. Lost in pleasure.
Oh God.
I stroke my forefinger over my lips. His mouth tasted dark and hot, a little bitter, like rosemary and nicotine. Such a male taste. Just the memory of it makes my skin warm and my insides clench.
“Let me touch you, Pax. I want to pleasure you. It’s what I’m here for.”