by May Bridges
“Did you just kill that man?” I stood shocked and frozen where he’d left me.
“Naw, he landed good. Two stories to your side on grass won’t kill you. It’ll sting a bit, but he’s not dead, yet.”
“Why the hell couldn’t you have taken him out the front door?”
“You have neighbors. He wasn’t going to be quiet enough for that. Come here and let me look at your head.” Cade motioned for me to sit on the bed next to him. “You hit it pretty hard.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head in short, chopped movements. “You can go now.”
“Is this one of those feminist ‘I don’t need a man’s help for anything’ things, or are you being stubborn?”
“Neither. I don’t like people touching me,” I admitted.
“You’re kidding, right? You’re a. . . .” he stopped, shut his mouth, and started over. “You spend this kind of time with men”—he picked up the ball gag I’d left on the bed—“and you don’t like to be touched?”
Suddenly uncomfortable with how close to naked I was, I crossed my arms over my body, gun still in hand. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, but I’m not a whore. I don’t sleep with them and they don’t get to touch me.” Thinking about what I’d wanted my client to do with his tongue, I amended my statement. “They don’t touch me much, anyway.”
I took the rubber band from my hair, pulling the long thick rope of it over my shoulder in an attempt to cover myself. I prodded the back of my head. It was tender. There’d be a bump and a headache in the morning.
“If you wanted my client, you could’ve taken him from the bar last night,” I scolded, feeling a bit braver.
“Last night he had a bodyguard. Tonight he didn’t. And if I would’ve snatched him last night, you wouldn’t have gotten paid tonight. I think it works out better this way for both of us.”
I hated the smile on his face. I hated that he even could smile right then.
“You don’t look like you’re the kind of guy that would care about a bodyguard and I don’t need the money.”
My head was starting to throb harder as the adrenaline waned. My knees began to feel weak. I eyed the bottle of Jack on the counter and the empty glass. I needed a drink and a seat. I walked over and poured some.
“Come here,” Cade said. There was nothing about the statement that made me think it was a request.
Perhaps it was shock, could’ve been the head trauma, or that the bottle of Valium I wanted was on the nightstand near him. I’m not sure why, but I complied. My drink in one hand, gun in the other, I moved to stand in front of him by the bed. He reached out, plucked the rocks glass from my fingers, leaned over, and placed it on the nightstand. “You shouldn’t drink after you hit your head, or when you have a gun in your hand.”
I stared at him for a moment. “That’s a bad joke, right? You just threw a guy off a balcony. Now you’re handing out health and wellness tips?” I put the safety back on the gun, and tucked it away.
He groaned, a low sound in his chest.
“What?” I asked.
“You, tucking a gun into your garter belt, might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I rolled my eyes and sat on the bed a few feet from him. The silky purple comforter was pleasantly cold on the backs of my thighs. I reached for the Valium bottle. He promptly snatched that from my hand too. He collected the glass of Jack and took both back to the bar. Then he ducked into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water.
“So if you don’t need the money and you don’t like being touched, why do you work for Rob?” He handed me the glass.
“Why do you work for Robert?” I countered, not liking the idea that he somehow knew more about me than I did him.
“I don’t. I’m freelance.”
I put the water on the nightstand and Cade sat down beside me, closer than I would’ve liked. “Freelance what? Dealer?”
“No, Doll. The only thing I sell is service. What about you?”
I contemplated correcting him when he called me Doll, but realized I didn’t know what I wanted him to call me. He wasn’t a client, so June didn’t seem appropriate. Still, I didn’t know if I wanted to offer him any other name. He picked up the cane from the floor and twirled it in his fingers. The motion was distracting and seeing it in his hands made something deep in my belly tighten.
“I don’t work for Robert either,” I answered, hoping to move on from the thoughts in my head. “We’re trading services.”
“He sets you up with men, takes a cut I’m sure, and what does he do for you?” He was still playing with the cane, running his fingers over the deep-red lacquered finish.
I cleared my throat. “He’s looking for someone for me.”
“Who?” Cade asked, now swirling the cane in front of him like he was casting some spell.
“A guy, Ashley—” Cade flicked the cane into the open space. The whoosh sound of it splitting the air made my eyes flicker closed for a second and I lost my train of thought.
“Sorry. Ashley Becker.” I mumbled out the name, still focused on the cane. “Goes by Becker. Used to anyway.”
Cade’s head turned like it was on a swivel. “Becker? I know an Ashley Becker. Rob wouldn’t be looking for him, though. I met the guy through Rob a couple months back.”
“Tell me about him,” I said, swallowing back a bad feeling.
“Big bastard from Iowa. Fifty or so. Wears a dirty Hawkeyes cap with a gold pin through the front all the time. Like it’s glued to his head.”
It’d been a long time, but I remembered that sweat stained hat with its gold pin, vividly. I still smelled it when I closed my eyes. Beer, sweat, and body spray. “Sounds like him.”
“Rob knows where Becker is. They do business together regularly. Sounds like you’re getting played.”
Cade’s words processed through my brain at a rate slower than usual; like going through molasses instead of the electrical firing of brain cells. He could be wrong, right?
“No.” I shook my head, trying to shake away the thought. “No, we’re not talking about the same guy. Robert is looking for him for me. That’s what I pay him for.”
“How many men named Ashley Becker from Iowa do you think are running around the Dallas area? And how many of them do you think Rob knows? Don’t be stupid, Doll. Why would you want to find a guy like Becker anyway?”
“We have business,” I muttered, disbelief assaulting me.
The reason I choked down Jack and Valium, a lie. I played in a world of pain, spending hours justifying my nights with men, all so Robert would find Becker. Telling myself that I wasn’t a whore based on the ridiculous technicality that I didn’t let them fuck me—for nothing. A wave of nausea swept over me. Robert wouldn’t do that to me, would he?
“Rob, Becker, you sure do have business with a rough crowd,” I heard him say, but my head was too full to process.
It was all too much at once. I wanted the Jack and the Valium with renewed urgency. It would help speed up the process of slipping into that numb, hollow space inside.
The sound of the cane across the palm of Cade’s hand brought my focus in sharp again. “Was this meant for you, or for Christian?” Cade asked, flicking it against his palm again. “Christian didn’t look like he was cut out for this.”
Christian was my client’s name, I realized. I didn’t like knowing their names.
“Me.” And the idea of it sounded like heaven right then.
I wanted the lash of the cane, waves of hot pain licking through my skin. Mind-numbing pain. Pain that burned away the world around me.
The soft caress of a man’s hand made my skin crawl, made me shrink away. But pain, pain was something I could arch into, something I could feel without the weight of memories crushing me. Pain was my escape, a way out of my own head. And with thoughts of being betrayed by Robert, I needed that escape now.
“Cade, I want you to do something for me.”
I pulled the S&W from t
he back of my garter belt and his deep brown eyes widened. I laid it on the nightstand. Unarming myself with him, this stranger, might not have been my best and brightest idea, but I didn’t care.
I moved to stand in between his legs. Reaching behind my back with one hand, I pulled the tie to my bustier, loosening the crisscrossed string so I could slide it down my body. A low, slow groan pulled from Cade’s chest as my breasts pulled free of the black satin top, nipples tightening in the cool loft air.
The tips of his fingers trailed down the outside curve of my hip, following my top to the ground. Panic piqued in my chest, and for a moment it felt like the worst idea I’d ever had. Cade must have seen it in my face, or the tremble on my lips, because he pulled his hand back pointedly.
“What do you want, Doll?” The impossibly deep notes in his voice made me lust drunk for a moment.
“June, my name is June,” I said. “I want the cane.” I nodded to the desired object resting across his lap.
“Is that all you want?” He raised his brow at me, sliding the length of red cane back and forth in his hand.
“I don’t know, but it’s where I need to start.”
I searched his eyes, hopeful. If he walked away my only escape from the chaos in my mind would be pills and liquor. That’s the kind of high that made the world muddy, thoughts not clear enough to care. A cane delivers pain that brings your focus in sharp, but singular. Both would do the trick, but I wanted one so much more.
“Please, Cade.” The shame in begging a stranger for this washed over me, but I begged anyway.
He let out a heavy breath, one that sounded more like defeat than a release of air. “And your no-touching rule, how does that work?”
“I can’t explain the shit in my head when men touch me a certain way. If you have to touch me, touch me hard. Make sure I feel your hands on my skin. Nothing soft. Hard or not at all.” I gritted the words out and laced my fingers through his thick dark hair, gripping it fiercely. He moaned as his face was pulled skyward.
My other hand dug into the muscles on his shoulder. “If you have to put your mouth on me,” I put one knee on the purple comforter beside him, my other still between his, now half straddling him, “make it your teeth, and make it hard.” I sunk my teeth into the meat that ran from his shoulder to his neck, biting down hard enough to make him moan louder. I liked the feeling of my teeth in his muscle and my hips pushed forward. “And don’t ever kiss me, anywhere.” I released him and stepped back.
Cade ran his hand down his face and around the back of his neck. “You’re sure this is what you want?” He held out the cane.
I took him by the hand and led him to the other side of the bed where a long black leather strap hung high on the wall.
“It’s what I need.”
Chapter Five
Sliding out of my red pumps made me even smaller in comparison to Cade. I pulled my hair back in a messy bun and out of the way. I wound the leather strap around one wrist, part way up, and left the end of the strap free.
I watched over my shoulder as Cade pulled off his shirt. The muscles in his abs and sides rippled with the motion. He was beautiful. I wanted so badly to touch him, but I turned to face the wall instead. Laying my cheek flat against the cold plaster, I stepped back away from it so that my weight was supported on the leather strap around my wrist.
“Ten,” I said.
I’d taken five with the cane from a man with his hands free. Five licks had come close to breaking me. I prayed ten would. I took the end of the leather strap into my mouth. I bit down and gripped it with both hands.
“Do you have a safe word?” Cade asked.
“I don’t plan on using one.”
“June . . .” I felt a sting as his hand made contact with my ass. The surprise made me yelp. “Give me a word,” Cade demanded.
“Red.”
The first lash came down across my left ass cheek. The sound was worse than the pain. He was holding back.
“Harder,” I begged.
I heard the cane cutting through the air on the second lash. I tightened my jaw around the leather in anticipation. It cracked into my right ass cheek with the fiery pain I craved. I moaned, and swayed back toward him. The burn felt good. It had me wet between my legs before I heard the cane coming for number three.
Lash three was laid across both thighs. I cried out around the leather in my mouth.
“Let me touch you,” Cade said. “I can make it feel good.” I could sense Cade standing inches behind me, waiting for me to give him the okay to touch me.
Most people like that brand of pain with a side of pleasure, a gentle hand to rub out the sting and a few strokes between your legs for encouragement. Not me. I liked it straight up, no chaser.
“Don’t touch me. Not yet.”
I heard a low grumble from behind me.
Four sent white hot pain from the top of my ass through bottom of my back. It’s a strike that felt more like punishment than pleasure.
“Oh God!” I cried. Tears sprang into my eyes. “Don’t stop.”
My body was on fire. The strap in my mouth was wet now, spreading the taste of leather over my tongue.
Five. I didn’t remember why I wanted this, and that was the point. I could only focus on the pain and an image of the beautiful man behind me, a red cane in his hand, his chest rising and falling heavy with each breath, body glistening in the soft gold light.
Six, further than I’d been. I pulled so hard on the leather strap that my hand went numb. I could hear Cade breathing hard behind me. My eyes were open but unseeing. Only the sounds and the pain were coming through.
Eight. My legs gave out, sending the lower half of my body against the wall. The leather strap around my wrist wouldn’t let my knees hit the floor. I struggled to get my feet back under me and prepare for the next lash. I could feel small streams of moisture trickling down the back of my legs. I didn’t know if it was sweat or blood.
“Enough, June,” Cade barked out. I heard the cane rattle across the floor. I couldn’t manage the words to beg for the last two. I wanted them, still.
Cade’s hand clamped down on my neck from behind, pressing me into the wall. With his other hand he unwound the strap from my wrist. My body begged to collapse, but he held me where I was.
“You still want to feel something, June?” His voice was a violent mix of anger and lust. He pushed his body flat against mine. His sweat-soaked skin burned my welted flesh where they met. The pain had me grinding back against him. His pants were off and his cock was pressed between my ass cheeks.
“I want it,” I whimpered, the pain still making my jaw quake.
Cade’s fingers punched through the lace on my thong and with a jerk, he ripped it. He pulled my hips toward him, gripping them with his hands while digging his thumbs into the bottom of my back. His hold on me hurt. It was the kind of touch I liked. I knew where his hands were. I knew where they were going. I wouldn’t mistake that touch for the one that woke me from my nightmares.
Cade took his cock in his hand and lined himself up against my slick flesh. He thrust in hard, pushing the air from my lungs in a huff. I felt my body stretching around him. It was heaven and hurt like hell all at the same time.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Cade moaned into my ear.
Each thrust sent my shoulder into the wall. Cade’s rhythm was unforgiving. “You don’t like being touched, Doll. How about being fucked? Do you like me inside you?” His words were a growl in my ear.
I’d never wanted to scream the word “Yes!” so bad in my life. I hadn’t been fucked in a long time, and Cade was pushing my body to the edge. I managed an approving moan.
“I asked you a question.” Cade reached around me and pulled my nipple tight between his fingers. “Answer me.”
The fresh pain elicits an answer from my mouth, “Fuck. Yes. I like you inside me. Please don’t stop.” I didn’t know what I was asking him to not stop doing: making me hurt, making me feel good, e
verything.
I tried to focus on only the feelings, the pain, the pleasure, and not the man that was giving them to me. This was about escaping, getting lost in sensations, not Cade.
My palms were flat against the wall, fingers arched, trying to claw into the plaster. The length of him made a sharp pain low in my belly as he pulled my ass flush with his hips, burying himself in me completely. The pains in my body bled one into the next: the salt from our sweat in my caned skin, his fingers biting my hips, his dick piercing me. I was either going to orgasm or pass out. When he reached around me and worked my clit in hard, tight circles I knew which it’d be.
“Do you like to feel good, or do you only want the pain?” he asked.
“You feel so fucking good. I’m so close.” I felt my body climb higher and higher.
“Let go for me, brave girl. I want to make you feel good.”
I liked that he didn’t call me June. That wasn’t June. That was me, whoever I was. The fucked up, broken, hot mess that was letting a beautiful stranger light her world on fire, was every bit me.
Cade kept working me with one hand, still pumping into me. With the other he spanked the side of my ass, directly over cane lash number two. The pain was exquisite, hot and bright. It tipped me over the edge and I shattered, fracturing pressed between him and the wall. Each wave of my orgasm had me twitching and moaning something close to his name.
All too soon, Cade pulled out. I began to slump to the ground, my body giving in to gravity. He gripped me by the arm and I made it the two steps to the bed. Knowing with certainty that some of the cane lashes had opened my skin, I laid face down.
His sudden absence from inside me made my body feel empty. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to. I began to shake and I clutched to the cool silk comforter. The lashes on my skin hurt with renewed vigor without the distraction sex offered.
“Let me clean those.” Cade’s voice rained down from somewhere above me.
I was still lust-drunk until I started putting real thought into what he was asking to do. Having each lash cleaned would either be a new wave of pain or feel amazing—in either case I would probably pass out—but it would take a gentle hand and I didn’t want him to touch me that way. Certainly not after I’d let him fuck me.