by Becky McGraw
With a shake of his head, Dex took a step, but stopped again when the woman won her struggle with the bag and turned toward him to scan the baggage claim area. Recognition slammed into his chest like a fist and stopped his heart.
“Grace,” he whispered, and the excitement of the conference dulled in comparison to his excitement at seeing her there.
What were the odds that he’d be thinking about her on the plane, and he’d see her here? This was Vegas, baby, and it looked like he was on a winning streak. A grin stretched his face as he headed over to talk to her.
The tall, stone-faced man in leather pants got to her first, though. He wound his fist in Grace’s long, amber braid, and yanked hard, then held her head back to whisper something in her ear. Dex knew his former lover’s expressions well and what he saw on her face as she swallowed hard and nodded was fear. The man released her hair to grab her bag with one hand and her wrist with the other. When he dragged her toward the sliding front door, Dex had to follow them.
Was this guy her boyfriend? Her husband?
His fists curled as he watched the man jerk her to a stop beside him outside at the curb. A knife sliced through his chest when he realized what this man looked like, acted like.
Her Dom—but there was no way in hell Grace was into that kind of sex. From one of the women he dated for a few months in Texas, Dex found out he wasn’t into kink either. Chandra had taken him to a local club a few times, and the things he saw there, and had done to her at her request, just weren’t his cup of tea.
He knew damned well they weren’t insecure Boston-proper Grace’s either. Hell, it had taken him six months to convince her to have sex with him with the lights on so he could see her beautiful body. So what in the hell was she doing in Vegas with that man?
People changed, yeah, and maybe she had too. For her, though, this wouldn’t be a change, it would be a complete metamorphosis. Not a good one in his opinion, other than maybe her being more sexually liberated and having a better body image. And, Lord have mercy, what a body she had—but he’d never succeeded in convincing her of that.
Grace was an exceptionally smart woman, but because of her insecurities, she was equally naïve and far too trusting. It was entirely possible she could’ve accidentally wandered into, or been lured to Sin City to engage in something that could hurt her badly if she wasn’t careful. Dex was going to make damned sure that wasn’t the case.
The driver’s door of the limo opened, a pair of long trim legs appeared, then a blonde woman wearing a skimpy black leather chauffeur uniform exited the car. She shut the door and Dex’s blood ran cold when he read the logo.
Silver Chains Resort and Casino.
Definitely a fitting name for a kinkster’s haven.
The chauffeur took Grace’s suitcase, stowed in the trunk, then opened the back door for the man who roughly shoved Grace into the car, before following her inside. As the car pulled away, Dex’s eyes fixed on the license plate, because as soon as he checked into his hotel, he had some research to do.
CHAPTER TWO
Dr. Grace Wentworth couldn’t believe she was in Las Vegas, a place she would never have added to her vacation bucket list or chosen to spend her remaining two-week leave. But here she was…to find her older sister Marcy and drag her, if necessary, back to Baltimore.
That wasn’t the only time she’d wasted either.
Before she even started her leave, she’d spent a precious week of her after-hours research time in a BDSM forum to locate her. That could delay the breakthrough she was so close to making to prove the prenatal drugs her sister had taken caused her niece’s profound deafness. At least the time she’d sacrificed hadn’t been fruitless, though.
Following her sister’s footsteps in that forum led her to Master Tim, the owner of the Silver Chains Resort, where Marcy had been invited by him to audition for one of his kinky porn films. Wrangling an audition for herself hadn’t been easy, however, but Grace had done it by dumbing herself down and telling him how desperate she was for this chance. From the chat logs she read, something her sister had done too, but Grace knew her desperation hadn’t been faked.
While chatting up the Dom, who promised her the moon and his paddle on her ass online if she came to Vegas, Grace had also gotten a swift education on the darker side of sex, and frankly, it scared her. It should have scared her sister Marcy too, but evidently not enough to stop her from making this trek to Sin City to pursue her acting dream, which had now become a nightmare.
In their last private message on the bondage forum, Master Tim had given her specific descriptions of the type of outfits he expected her to bring with her this weekend. Probably the same instructions he’d given Marcy, because Grace found plenty of cast-offs that fit the description in her closet, saving her an embarrassing shopping trip to the BDSM Superstore. What looked good on her taller, thinner sister, though, looked more like a sausage casing on Grace, but they would have to do.
Grace could only hope to bluff her way through this, without suffering some of those horrors she’d seen and heard about in that forum. From the looks of it, there wasn’t a lot of actual sex involved, only consensual pain, which oddly enough, some considered pleasure.
You can get through this. Just focus.
Her overstuffed floral print suitcase zipped by for another round on the baggage claim belt at McCarran airport. Reaching out, Grace lunged for the handle and caught it just in time, but the momentum almost jerked off her feet. A few fumbling steps later, she dug in her heels and, with a grunt, managed to wrestle the heavy bag off of the conveyor.
Leather weighed a lot. Grace found that out at the ticket counter at Baltimore Washington International airport, where her bag came in only ounces under the fifty-pound limit. Those ounces spared her the embarrassment of having to repack the metal-spiked ensembles and chain-encrusted boots at the counter in front of the counter personnel and other travelers.
What in the world was Marcy doing at a BDSM resort auditioning for porn films? Had her sister really sunk that low? Was she that desperate to find stardom and fame?
Yeah, the money Tim promised Marcy if she passed her audition and was hired as an actress was unbelievable, but what she’d have to do for it was akin to selling her soul to the devil. The same devil that Grace now had to face to save her.
The fear she’d fought hard to suppress over the last week while she made arrangements for her niece to go to Boston alone, and herself to come here, resurged with a vengeance.
Could she actually go through with this?
Acting was her sister’s forte not her own, but Grace was going to have to give an academy-award-winning performance to get past the audition with Master Tim so she could get inside ‘the studio’ to find Marcy. She knew asking him about her sister would just get her bounced out of the resort and she’d never find her. The kinksters on that forum, which were led by Master Tim, were a close-mouthed bunch.
This was the only way—and she had to do it for Callie. For herself too, so she could finally have some peace in her life.
Her cram-course research into the BDSM lifestyle told Grace if she couldn’t bluff her way through this, she would probably face a lot of pain and humiliation before she accomplished her goal. When she saw Marcy, she’d probably want to kill her, but wouldn’t, only because her niece needed and loved her mother, as incompetent as she was at that job.
With a huffed breath, she shored up her determination as she wheeled her bag through the concourse, looking for the limo driver with the sign that Master Tim said would be waiting for her. Her eyes ticked over the many signs being held up by bored-looking men as she walked toward the exit, but she didn’t see her name.
Sudden pain sliced through her skull and Grace lost her breath when her braided hair, another requirement of Master Tim, was yanked hard. She slammed back into the solid wall of a man’s chest and whimpered, struggled, but his grip was so tight on the braid she couldn’t move.
“I like redhea
ds—you’re more fun to break,” her captor whispered into her ear, his hot breath searing the shell. “I decided to come and pick you up myself so we could discuss the scene tonight and your hard limits in the limo.”
Hard limits.
Grace knew from the research she’d done after agreeing to do this that meant the points where she drew the line at being tortured and humiliated by this man. The things she would never agree to let him do to her. That would include most everything she’d seen on the list online, but she knew that would get her right back on a plane to Baltimore without her sister. The thought of that terrified her enough to make some compromises, to take some calculated risks, if she wasn’t able to dance or talk herself out of this situation before she found Marcy.
The man quickly released her braid and her head snapped upright on her neck, but then he took her suitcase as his hand closed around her wrist in a steely grip. He jerked her into forward motion toward the exit without even introducing himself or asking her name.
But the tall, brooding extra from The Matrix movie, with inky black hair and a thin ribbon of beard around his chin, whose tight leather pants creaked with each stride, needed no introduction. Grace knew exactly who her assailant was—Master Tim, aka the sadomasochistic devil she’d made a deal with to save her sister.
Satan knew her too, because she’d had to send him some very intimate photos of herself to get him to agree to let her come here.
Beelzebub led her to the front door of the airport and opened it, but didn’t stop to let her pass first. He dragged her through behind him, then strode to the curb where a long black limo emblazoned with Silver Chains Resort was parked.
The driver’s door swung open and a tall blonde in leather shorts, spiked and studded stripper heels and a chauffeur’s hat emerged. She didn’t meet his eyes, but immediately relieved him of Grace’s suitcase, which she wheeled behind the car and stashed inside the trunk.
Tim didn’t open the door, he waited until the blonde reappeared to open it for him, then crouching low, he dragged Grace into the limo behind him. The door closed with a click and Grace swallowed hard when she heard the locks engage a moment later. The dark-tinted divider between the driver’s compartment and the back slid upward and it felt like all of the oxygen in the back had been sucked out.
When Tim turned hot eyes on her, Grace squirmed as he let them trail over her body in a way that made her skin quiver. “The little print skirt is very virginal, but that’s not what I told you to wear, is it?” he snapped.
Surely he didn’t expect her to wear a leather bondage outfit in public? On a flight from Baltimore?
From his scowl, it sure appeared that way. “I, ah, have it in my suitcase, but I thought—” Grace stuttered.
“See that’s the thing with our relationship—you don’t think—it’s my job to do the thinking. You just do what I tell you to do.” A muscle ticked at his firm jaw and his brown eyes narrowed to bore into hers. “Do you understand me, Grace?”
Fear froze her insides and her stomach rolled as she nodded, and the car lurched into motion, closing off any hope of escape.
“When I ask you a question, you answer me with words—not head bobs. Do you understand me, Grace?” Tim demanded, and she swallowed the bile that rushed up to her throat.
“Yes, I understand,” she squeaked, digging her nails into the soft black leather seat on either side of her quaking thighs. His lips pinched as he emitted a harsh sound that resembled a game show buzzer, which caused her to flinch.
“When your Master asks you a question, slave, the correct response is followed by yes, Sir or no, Sir…do you understand?”
Every ounce of starch left her body, and her eyes slid to the door handle as she wondered how badly she’d be hurt if she flung herself out of the swiftly moving vehicle. When she noticed the speed at which the tall buildings and people on the street zipped by the darkened window, she knew that wasn’t an option. Folding her arms over her chest, she met his eyes again.
“Yes, I understand you, Sir,” she grated through tight lips.
“Good girl. You’re a fast learner, Grace. That should make things easier on you.” He eased back in the seat and held her gaze. “I don’t like that name by the way, so I’m going to call you Kitty. It’s a more proper name for a pet.”
The intense energy this man exuded filled the back of the car and surrounded her, choked her. With a satisfied smile, he laid his arms over the back of the seat, but instead of relaxed, for him it looked to be a ready-to-pounce pose.
What in the hell had she gotten herself into? What had Marcy gotten her into?
Grace was a highly-educated research physician—not an actress or a BDSM slave. Definitely not someone who let others dominate her in her everyday life. Knowing she’d have to submit to this man, or someone of his choosing, once they got to the resort seemed doable before it was in her face. Now that it was, she was grinding her teeth and knew there would be plenty more humiliation to come.
But you’re here and want to find your sister, you need to comply—at least for now.
“Now, about that skirt…” His eyes dropped to her lap and stayed there, sending a buzzing sensation zipping up her body. “You’re about to learn your first lesson about disobeying me, Kitty,” he announced, the corners of his mouth easing up into a feral smile. “Take off your panties and bra and hand them to me.”
A tremor rocked Grace as she edged her skirt up her thighs. She lifted her hips to hook her thumbs into the band of her panties and shoved them down to her knees. One leg at a time, she removed them, then handed her panties to Tim. His hot eyes held hers as he took the scrap of pink silk and raised it to his nose to inhale deeply.
“You smell very nice, Kitty,” he praised, his voice vibrating along her nerves. “I look forward to tasting your cream after I let you orgasm.” Grace shivered, barely suppressing the whimper that shot up to her lips. Master Tim lowered her panties from his nose and crooked his finger. “Now, your bra, pet,” he commanded.
Leaning forward, Grace reached behind her to find the clasp on her bra. She unhooked it, then without raising her shirt, she pulled it out through the armholes of her tank and held it out to him. She sat back after he took it, and the cool silk top skimmed her breasts causing her nipples to pucker.
“That’s a good, very demure girl,” he said with a rumbling laugh and lifted brow. “But there’s no need for modesty with me, Kitty. Lift your shirt up and tuck it into the neckline so I can see your breasts.”
Oh, God. This was the moment of truth. Could she really go through with this?
CHAPTER THREE
The words to tell Tim to stop the car and let her out flew to Grace’s lips, but she pinched them tight, found the hem, and with trembling hands closed her eyes as she raised it and tucked it into the neck of her shirt. A thought occurred to her and her eyes flew open to streak to the darkened partition.
Could BDSM Barbie see her through that glass? Or worse, hear him giving her these naughty commands?
Tim reached overhead and adjusted the air conditioning vent so it was on high and focused directly on her breasts. The blast of cold air tightened her nipples to painfully rigid knobs and she shivered as her hands flew to cover them.
“No!” he shouted, and Grace jerked in the seat, her hands falling to her thighs. “Do not ever cover yourself from me.”
Laser beams shot from his hard eyes to scorch her and Grace’s heart pounded at the center of her throat as she dropped her eyes to her lap and tensed every muscle to fight the urge to cover her breasts again.
“Now, lift your skirt and tuck the hem into the waistband so I can watch you make yourself come…if I decide to let you have an orgasm.”
Grace almost got whiplash as her eyes flew back to his.
“Come?” she squeaked, pressing her knees together. No way was she going to pleasure herself while this man watched!
“Yes, pet—orgasm. You’ve had one of those before, haven’t you?” Hi
s eyes narrowed and sparked with fire as his smile faded. “Or are you a virgin? I didn’t ask you that online, because I assumed—”
“No, I’m not a virgin,” she replied quickly.
But not by much. She wouldn’t tell him that she’d only ever been with one man, Brennan Lowell, her college fuck buddy for two years, turned first and only love, which she only realized after he left MIT and disappeared.
“No, Sir,” he growled glaring at her.
“No, Sir. I’m not a virgin,” Grace repeated, her voice wavering.
“Even so, I’ll bet you are naïve in many ways, so I’ll try to have patience while I teach you how to please me.” Tim reached beside him to flip down a panel in the brown-marbled plastic console and Grace’s insides clenched tighter when she saw various implements inside. Some she recognized from her research for this trip, but others not.
Tim pulled out a wand-type vibrator with a large bulb on the end and turned it on. She felt the low hum of the device in her teeth, but he clicked it up another notch before handing it to her and the intense buzz traveled down the roots along her jawbone, then zipped down her spine.
When her hand closed around the shaft, every nerve in her body caught fire and her teeth chattered. God, she couldn’t do this. But she had to do it to stay in this game of cat and mouse at least long enough to find her sister. Biting her tongue, Grace eased the wand closer to her thigh, but froze when Tim reached back into the compartment. What other kind of fresh hell did this devil have in store for her, she wondered, but she didn’t have to wonder long when his large hand emerged holding a set of grooved, wooden clothespins.