Relentless

by Skye Jordan

  She should tell him to go find a real woman, someone who could fulfill the animalistic urges he'd come here to satisfy. But in her gut, she knew that woman resided in her somewhere. She'd just been buried for a long time. For whatever reason, he'd given up on two sure things to spend time with her, and he'd already given her some of what she'd come here to find. She wanted to give back. Even if he was a stranger she'd never see again, she wanted to give him a little taste of success for his efforts.

  She lifted her eyes to his with an overwhelming sensation of vulnerability, but some of the apprehension had softened beneath the alcohol's effect. “Can you lead?”

  His smile flashed white-hot, and this time, it was edged with arrogance. An arrogance Giselle was pretty sure he'd earned. “I was born to lead.”

  Stretching his arm out to her, he offered his hand a second time. “Let the show begin.”

  Troy was going straight to hell.

  He'd suspected as much for a long time. But as Giselle laid her fingertips in his, Troy knew he was going straight to the very bowels of hell.

  She was scared, way out of her element, and she needed him-needed him to show her how to get into her role for this video. Needed him to make her feel safe. Needed him to satiate the lust making those ocean-blue eyes shine. The sight gave him an unholy thrill that vibrated through his body. And the fact that she didn't recognize him only added a wicked kick to his excitement.

  Oh yes. There was no doubt about it. Troy would be seated at Satan's side for eternity.

  Might as well enjoy life while he could.

  He turned and drew her toward one of two unclaimed frosted-glass platforms. He'd never been in this room before, but by the light and shadows pouring over the couple still rocking another glass shelf above, the sight was undeniably provocative. Perfect for a show.

  The glass shelf was deep and wide with plenty of space for a couple to maneuver safely. Still, when he pressed the controls, he only lifted the glass five feet, roughly eye level for the spectators on their own stationary platforms circling the room.

  Coldplay's “Magic” filled the space as the floor moved smoothly and slowly beneath their feet. Troy faced Giselle, threaded their fingers and lifted their joined hands overhead, stretching her beautiful body for everyone to see. And as they turned a slow circle, he scanned her for the first time in seven long years, taking in every sexy curve and taut plane.

  Simply stunning. Small and utterly feminine, she'd turned from a girl into a woman over the years with a luscious fullness to her breasts, a deeper roundness to her hips. He could see the work she'd put into her voice with a strong core in her tight waist and flat abs. He could see she was still a girly-girl by the pink satin thong and bra lined with a heavy helping of sexy black lace.

  The mere act of sliding his gaze over her beautiful body made a distant but consuming ache build deep in his body, one that encompassed every part of him-body and soul.

  The pain sparked anger. A complex, self-protective, brooding anger. He'd spent seven years feeling helpless when it came to his lingering feelings for Giselle. Seven years feeling out of control and tossed aside and worthless whenever he thought of her.

  All he wanted was release from that haunting grip. Giving Giselle what she was looking for tonight might just end up giving him what he needed most as well-closure. She wouldn't feel or taste as good as he remembered. She wouldn't fill the emptiness in his soul as she once had. He'd give her the experience she needed to succeed. He'd have one last chance to feel her again. Just feel her and release her. Feel her, release her, and move on.

  It all seemed like a pretty fair deal.

  He stopped with Giselle on the outside of the platform, closest to the audience. Her gaze cut toward the cluster of couples gathering for the show. Even the pair on the higher platform moved lower for a better view.

  He lowered her arms and released one hand to take her chin between his fingers, bringing her gaze back to his. For someone who breezily captivated thousands of fans per concert, her discomfort both surprised and pleased him. Here in this moment, she still needed him-for support, for guidance, for security. At one time, being needed by Giselle had been his life's sole purpose. Now, it gave his otherwise full life a spark that had been missing since she walked away.

  “Look at me.” He cupped her cheek, holding her gaze to his. “From this point forward, it's just you and me, and our job is to put on a show. We are performers. Those people are our audience. And you will deliver, because you're a professional. Right?”

  She pressed her lips together, but her gaze focused, her mind's eye homing in on the goal. “Right.”

  “Good girl.” He slid his hands to her waist. “Face the people you're here to entertain.”

  She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. The sight made him ravenous, but he planned on getting out of here tonight without ever tasting her again. Because that might be the one thing that could drag him under.

  When she didn't move, he said, “Take control of that anxiety, and turn.”

  When she obeyed. Troy circled her wrists, dragged her hands to the edge of the clear railing, and curved her fingers over the slim edge. “They're all here to see you, Goldilocks,” he murmured at her ear and fitted his rigid cock to the low curve of her spine.

  The perfect fit made his chest cave a little. Her scent filled his head, the soft floral tease of a perfume called Forever. The perfume Troy bought for her. The first perfume she'd ever worn. The fact that she still wore it tore at something deep inside him.

  “Let's give them what they came for.” He started by stroking every inch of her body.

  His hands roamed up her arms, over her shoulders, and down her back. By the time he'd wrapped his arms around her waist, she was writhing to his touch and in time to the music…just like he remembered. Her soft moans electrified his skin and flooded his cock…just like he remembered. And when he slid his hands to her tits, cupping and squeezing the perfect mounds beneath the silk, her nipples puckered, her back arched, and her ass rubbed his cock…just like he fucking remembered.

  I'm so screwed.

  He forced the thought away. He was in control here. He knew this would be over as quickly as it began. And he would be the one to walk away this time.

  Lowering his hands to her hips, he stroked her tight, perfect ass. Let his hands fall down the backs of her thighs, then whisper up the front. The heat of her pussy touched his hands long before he reached that sweet spot, and when he stroked her lightly, her hips rocked into the touch.

  The movement consumed Troy's gut with fire and made him hungry. Starved. Greedy in a way he hadn't been in years. Controlling this was going to be harder than he thought.

  “Let your mind go,” he whispered and dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “Focus on the feeling in your body.”

  He lifted her arms overhead again, but pulled them back to circle his neck. As she moved with the position, her ass rubbed his cock. Heat washed his lower body, and he moaned into her ear. “Rock me, baby,” he said with a gentle thrust against her. “Lose yourself in the music. Lose yourself in the show.”

  Her fingers dug deep into his hair, and she swayed against his groin. Troy's air released on a growl of deep satisfaction, and he let his teeth settle into the flesh at the base of her neck. Her gasp confirmed that bite of pain still excited her.

  Her head dropped back against his shoulder, and her body rocked and retreated. Again. And again. And again. The thrill swamped Troy's brain with a burst of white light.

  “Oh yeah, give me more.” He slid his hands down her arms, her sides, stroked the swell of her breasts, then roamed her taut abdomen. She was perfect. So fucking perfect. Smooth, warm, tight, sweet. And this wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. Dammit. Dammit. “I want it all. Give me all you've got. Feel me. Smell me. See me in your mind's eye. Imagine watching us grind from the floor. Commit it all to memory.”

  Her soft sound of heightened pleasure clawed at his gut. He lowered his lips to
her shoulder and opened his eyes, watching her gorgeous body writhe beneath his hands. The sight of his rough, calloused hands stroking her smooth, perfect skin was so erotic. The toned curves of her backside massaged his cock, caged in his slacks. What he would give to strip her naked and take her long and hard right here, on the glass, in front of all these eyes. Witnesses to his heart's release.

  Giselle turned her head and kissed his neck. Troy's brow tightened with the sweetness of it, the warmth of her mouth, the stroke of her tongue against his skin. That was good. It was all so good. He could feel the tangled knots in his heart loosen, freeing him. Finally.

  Fucking finally.

  He lifted his head, opened his eyes, and saw them reflected in a mirror across the small space. The sight shocked him for a long moment. She looked like a goddess, her hips rocking and rubbing, her hands in his hair, her mouth on his neck.

  “Look,” he said, leaning back to break the suction she had on his pulse point. One that made him more than a little crazy. “Look across the room.”

  But instead of doing as he asked, she fisted one of the hands in his hair and pulled his head down, dragging his mouth to hers. He tried to pull back for all of three seconds, until the feel of her lips registered, and he melted.

  Giselle's lips on his.

  How many times had he dreamed of this over the last seven years? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? The sweetest ache he'd ever known swamped his chest. His brain cleared completely, and he just floated in the moment. A moment he never wanted to end, even while knowing it had to end. Soon. Because he felt himself slipping…

  Then she pressed her tongue into his mouth and hungrily searched for his. When they touched and swirled, when she sighed into his mouth and softened against him, everything inside Troy softened too. Which was when he knew he was seriously fucked.

  This stupid stunt had backfired.

  And while his mind spiraled for a Plan B, Giselle ate at his mouth in hungry licks and bites, condensing his mind to mush.

  She broke the kiss with a breathless “You kiss like a god.”

  Troy lost it. He just snapped. Too much denial buried too deep. Too much pressure for too long. It had to come out sometime.

  He gripped her jaw, pulled her head back, and covered her mouth again. Tasting her with all the hunger in his starved soul. Knowing he'd never taste her again, never touch her again, he took and took and took. But it wasn't enough. He couldn't get enough. And this was why he couldn't ever let go, because he couldn't ever get enough. He always needed more.

  She turned her head to escape his mouth and took deep gulps of air. “Can't breathe.”

  He couldn't breathe either, but it was because his stupidity was choking him to death.

  Just like he had then, he was smothering her now because he couldn't fill this goddamned hole inside unless she was his. All his. Two hundred percent his.

  Searching for control, he slipped his fingers between her breasts and popped the latch of her bra. Back to business.

  She stiffened and released his head, her hands lowering to cover herself. But his arms were in the way.

  “Let them see,” he said. “You're gorgeous. Share it. With them. With me. Let me touch you. They want to watch me touch you. You need to feel me touch you.”

  Her body softened again, and he replaced her arms behind his head. Molding his hands to her ribs, he slowly slid upward, until he pushed the bra cups out of the way and her breasts were in his hands. He leaned his head against hers. “Perfect. So perfect.”

  So soft, so plush, so taut. Her nipples puckered into knots beneath his palms. And as he brushed his fingers across the hard flesh, she hissed in a gasp.

  “Open your eyes. Look at what you're doing to the others.” He kept his touch featherlight, something that used to drive her crazy. “Look at how they can't take their eyes off you. Feel their eyes on your skin. Imagine their gazes creating this feeling on your nipples.”

  She whimpered and rubbed her ass against his erection. Lust hit so hard and so fast, his whole body tightened. His fingers clamped down on her nipples, and Giselle cried out. “Yes.”

  The spike of pleasure dug deeper, the bodies around them writhed faster, echoing Giselle's pleasure. And driving Troy's.

  He pressed his forehead to her shoulder. Forced his mind to clear. And found a sliver of control just as she tried to turn in his arms.

  Troy held her still out of desperation. If she turned into him, wrapped him in her arms and loved him, he'd break.

  He needed to bring this to an end.

  Reaching behind him, he hit the controls, and the glass lowered as slowly as it had risen. By the time it touched down, Troy was ready to run.

  But when he released her to exit the platform, she turned into him. Her arms snaked around his body, slid underneath his shirt. Then all Troy could focus on was her perfect curves and warm bare skin pressed against his. A desire he hadn't felt in years welled up inside him and flooded over.

  As if she meant to snap his one thread of resistance, she looked up at him with those big blue eyes, all smoky with desire-the way he'd dreamed she'd look at him again for seven fucking years, and said what he'd dreamed she'd say to him again for seven fucking years. “More. I want more.”

  Desperation gnawed a hole through his heart. He gripped her arms, closing his fingers tight, and met her gaze deliberately. “You don't want more of me, angel. We're from different worlds.”

  He pushed her back, but even the relief of getting all that skin off him didn't help, because now she was on full, gorgeous display in nothing but a thong and heels, and she wasn't grappling for her clothes.

  He reached for the bra he'd dropped on the stage and the dress at her feet, but she was still standing there with that hot gaze on him when he straightened.

  “I'm willing to give you what you need-”

  He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and fisted her hair, fighting to hold his voice down. “You have no fucking idea who I am or what I need.”

  She pulled in a sharp breath but looked more confused than scared. “Then tell me.”

  He needed to get her the hell away from him before he took exactly what he wanted, exactly the way he wanted it.

  “The way I need to fuck you is not nice. It's not slow or sweet. I need to fuck you hard and dirty. I need to hear you scream and beg. I need to fuck you by my rules, cuffed and tied. I need to hear the sound of leather smack your bare ass, need to see red welts rise on your tits.”

  Her eyes were wide. Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth. He was finally reaching her. But she wasn't running yet, so he lied some more.

  “I need to fuck you anywhere you can take it, and I need you to do exactly what I say, exactly where I say, exactly when I say.” He paused, let it all sink in, while all he could think about was what he really needed: her perfect body on a featherbed, somewhere quiet and extremely private. Where he could kiss and touch her and make her writhe with pleasure, not pain. “Am I making myself clear?”

  “Yes. And, yes, I still think you're exactly what I need.”

  He shook her, angry she didn't run from him. “How would you know?”

  “Because I'm dripping wet.”

  Fire flared through his body, licking his cock, filling his balls, rising through his belly. “Then why are you shaking?”

  “I'm excited.”

  “You're scared.”

  “A little,” she admitted. “But I'm channeling my anxiety into exactly what I want-you.”

  The hell of this was, she didn't want him. She wanted the stranger she thought he was. And that hurt. It hurt on top of all the other hurt. Which helped Troy gain perspective.

  This was no fantasy. This was no reunion. This was…nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just like every other fuck he had here. Every other fuck he'd had over the last seven years.

  Nothing.

  The only thing he could do with this opportunity was turn it into what he'd hoped for in the beginning
, a chance to put Giselle behind him once and for all.

  “I don't play games.” His gut felt as heavy as concrete. “There are no safe words. No means no. Stop means stop. If you use either of those words, whatever's happening will instantly end. I'll walk out. It will be over. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes were wide, flooded with a mixture of relief, trepidation, and excitement, which made him crazy. “Yes, I understand.”

  Fine. He had an out. Because based on what he knew of Giselle, she might talk big, but she wouldn't be able to handle the kind of sex delivered at a sex club.

  Giselle forced herself not to drag her dress from his hand to cover up for the short walk to a cozy corner room. At least it looked cozy at first glance, but as the devil let the single drape fall closed over the opening, Giselle darted a look around.

  Her gaze passed over a strangely shaped lounge, mirrors, hooks on the wall holding…

  “Choose a collar,” he ordered behind her, making her jump. “A wide one.”

  She was shivering with nerves, with lust, with a dark streak of the unknown. But he had already pushed her past every boundary she'd never believed herself capable of hurdling. In their short time together, he'd taught her a simple but powerful lesson on harnessing anxiety and putting it to use in powerful ways. And she believed he had a lot more to offer-more wisdom, more insight, more pleasure.

  More everything.

  But as she stroked her fingers over the leather collars, she was intensely aware of the huge gap between wanting something and getting it.

  So she did exactly what he'd taught her to do-she balled up all the anxiety thrumming through her body and drove it into choosing a thick black leather collar. Hardly more than a crazy necklace, right?

  He took it from her hand. “Turn around.”

  She obeyed, and her whole body strained with tension as he fastened it around her neck. The mirror's reflection hit her hard and made her mind slide sideways. She watched as he ratcheted the leather tightly. Her body looked sleek and so intensely sexual in her sweet little thong and spiked heels, with the blood-red mask covering most of her small face. She had the strange sensation of watching it all happen to someone else. Could almost have made herself believe it if her body wasn't exploding with sexual need.