The crowd groaned.
Silently, he took the leash from her. Never before had he felt the breath knocked from him like this. How could he be angry? With her actions, she had pleased him so exquisitely, so perfectly, that at the moment he didn’t know who was slave and who was Master.
Somehow he managed to find his voice, but it was low and rough. “You defied me, little slave. You must be punished.”
“Please, Sir,” she murmured, “I only wanted to be with you.”
He felt her tremble as he ran a hand over her smooth, supple curves, down to the juncture of her legs. He touched her there, reveling in the unfamiliar satiny bareness of her sex. He wanted to kneel down and run his tongue over it, suck the newly exposed folds into his mouth, taste the exciting untried nakedness of her cunt.
He slid his hand further between her thighs, pushed a finger up into her.
She mewled at his invasion, and darted a self-conscious look at their audience. Bobby and Cody stood transfixed, their expressions somewhere between outrage and exhilaration. The whole crowd continued to watch his moves with eager, lascivious attentiveness. He probed her deeply, gratified at the ample wetness he found. She was as excited as he was.
“She disobeyed me by coming tonight,” he announced to the gathering as he ground his fingers even deeper into her.
“Whip her,” a man called back, voicing the crowd’s hunger for the carnal retribution Mick’s words promised.
“Yes! Punish her!”
She whimpered and tried to squirm away but he clamped his hand over her tightly.
“No!” Plump and inviting, her breasts swayed as she struggled , the tips crimson rubies.
“You came with my two best friends,” he accused.
“Nothing happened, Sir,” she said breathlessly. “I swear. They didn’t even know I was—”
“Naked and painted like a harlot?” he supplied.
She licked her scarlet lips so they shimmered. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He held her leash fast at her collar. And ran his honey-slickened fingers lightly over her breasts. She sucked in a breath as the red tips pebbled tighter.
“Naked like a slave.”
“Your slave. Sir.”
He pulled her closer, right up to his face. “Would you like to feel my big cock in you?” he growled, wanting badly to claim what was his. So there was no mistaking she belonged to him.
Her eyes flared. “Yes, S-Sir,” she stammered.
“In that case—” he gave her a smile that brooked no protest. “Get on your knees.”
***
Inwardly, Caro quailed. What was wrong with Mick? Why was he suddenly being so...stony cold?
Strange how the moment she’d seen his face in the crowd, everything else had vanished. The roomful of drooling men, her acute embarrassment at being naked in public, her fright.
But now it all came rushing back. Fear zinged through her, hot and frantic, her nakedness stripping her to a state of terrifying personal vulnerability.
“Mick, I—”
“Do you disobey me?” he cut her off harshly.
“Sounds like it to me!” a man called from the audience.
“As to me,” Mick said, his voice a powerful purr.
“No, Sir,” she said, forcing herself to remember her role. As his slave.
“Then do as I say. Now.”
She didn’t fight him when he grasped her shoulders, but clung to his forearms as he pushed her down in front of him. Her knees shook as they hit the floor and she shivered in trepidation, suddenly freezing. Her clit tensed almost painfully as she recalled that he’d once told her he would take her like this. On her knees before him. Posed exactly like in the dressing room that day when she’d been too terrified to let her true nature slip out and respond to his carnality.
Back before he’d taken her every way a man could possess a woman. Back before she’d lost herself utterly and completely in the temptation of his dominance, in the seduction of his want. Before she’d willingly become his pleasure slave.
Was it really less than a week ago?
The men standing around let out a joint murmur of approval, moving in closer, anticipating the coming scene. Including Cody and Bobby. Their initial shock had morphed into rabid fascination. All of them watched Mick with envy gleaming in their sex-hungry faces. She could smell them, strong and male, like a pack of randy lions. She could smell herself, the acrid scent of fear combined with the unmistakable sweet musk of desire.
She tried to gather her wits, drag her mind back to the job she was here to do, but concentration stubbornly eluded her. She didn’t want to think about killers or cops or jail—or anything but the here and now. The explosive, desperate knowledge that she knelt naked and helpless before the only man who could save her life, and her sanity. But only if she obeyed.
Could she really do this?
She looked up at Mick, desperately seeking reassurance.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered frantically. “I can’t even think.”
His gaze captured hers, commanding her to be calm, bleeding the panic from her veins with the iron strength conveyed through his eyes.
“Don’t think,” he said. “Just be my slave.”
She swallowed. “Nothing more?”
“Nothing less.”
Forget everything else , she told herself. Mick would take care of her. He would take care of everything. She had to trust him. And do as he said.
She had only to give herself over to his will, and all would be well. Deep in her heart, she knew it was true.
Her nipples ruched at the thought of granting him total submission, and her blood flowed slow and heavy like liquid lead.
Gazing up from her knees into his mesmerizing ice-blue eyes, she saw his meaning, clear as crystal.
It was time.
“Lick me, baby. Take me in your mouth and suck me,” he said softly. Oddly, more like an offer than a command.
And suddenly, she realized what he was doing. He was giving her control over him. Making himself the vulnerable one instead of her. Offering himself up to her; literally and figuratively exposing his soft underbelly to her and the world. Putting himself out there for her to take or reject, humiliate or even hurt...or to give him the pleasure he so obviously wanted.
But it was her choice.
He spread his feet, drilled his fingers through her hair, held her head fast. She couldn’t move away if she wanted to. But she didn’t. She wanted this. With the last fiber of her being she wanted to show him she trusted him.
She took a deep breath. With pounding heart, she brought her hand to his waistband and reached for the tab of his zipper.
The quiet rasp of metal teeth drowned out the sounds of the room and the whispering of her inner fears, zeroing her focus in on just one thing.
Her lover’s pleasure.
She grasped him, pulled his long, thick cock through the opening of his trousers, thrilling to its impressive proportions.
A moan hummed through her throat as she parted her lips to receive him. She sent her tongue out to greet his flesh, sucked him deep into her mouth and felt his low groan vibrate through her body.
It was all about fulfilling fantasies.
And this was his. Showing her off, claiming her in the sight of others, making her prove her devotion in ways most women wouldn’t dare consider. And by doing all he asked, by submitting totally to the man she loved, she earned his unwavering devotion to her, and bound him to her as surely as did his collar locked about her neck.
She wanted to own him, just as he already owned her— completely.
The onlookers stood hypnotized, ravenously watching her every move. She knew each man fantasized that she knelt naked and adoring at his own feet instead of Mick’s, giving him the blowjob of his life.
The sway she held over every one of these men was awesome. She craved it. She reveled in it. She felt it in th
e tight thread of burning desire that pulled like a hot coil from her nipples to her clit.
She looked up, into Mick’s droop-lidded, sex-laden eyes, and posed for his visual pleasure. Knowing exactly what it would do to him. Between lips she’d painted his favorite shade of red, she extended her tongue and slowly licked up the hard ridge of his erection, gathering a heavy droplet from the very tip, letting it ooze over her taste buds.
In her hair, his fingers shook.
Wrapping one hand around his shaft, the other around his hard-drawn balls, she sucked him in and laved his steely cock for long minutes. Tasting him, breathing in the musk of his desire for her. Feeling the strength of his indomitable maleness.
Knowing she controlled it all, even as he held her in his iron grip. Even as she was his slave.
His nails dug into her scalp. A rumbling growl started far down in his throat. It built and lengthened as she lovingly stroked his shaft up and down, up and down, at the same time she suckled the distended head. And came out as a roar when she pulled him in as deep she could, gently squeezing his sac.
The salty taste of him exploded into her mouth.
***
For several moments there was again silence in the room, except for the harsh intake of Mick’s breath and the loud hammering of her heart. With a shiver, Caro swallowed his essence as he moved away. He took his time putting himself in order and straightening his pants while she wobbled there on her knees. Unsteady, yet strangely exultant.
Tim had once said that bondage and domination play was largely based on the type of deep-seated erotic tension she was experiencing. The push and pull of control, the clash of wills. Who was top and who was bottom, and how those roles were gained and enforced. In other words, power sex.
At the Tether Club the final outcome was a given, the order of things inherent in the rules. For the Dominant men and submissive women attending, the real fantasy was in getting there. Or in watching the exhilarating playing out of that struggle in others.
She’d had no idea just how exhilarating it could be.
Mick’s daunting eyes were still on her when she glanced up. Despite the overlay of languid satisfaction, they gleamed icy blue and sharp with awareness of everything around him. And told her he’d missed nothing. That he’d felt her fears and had seen her triumph. That he understood he was as helpless as she against whatever this thing was they were enmeshed in. But that he had no intention of relinquishing his position of dominance.
He was Top. She was bottom. Regardless of her newfound insights.
Caro shuddered and pressed her thighs together against a sudden, gnawing need to feel him there, deep inside her. Even greater was her need to show Mick she was truly his, body and soul. That she finally understood and accepted his liberating power over her. That she loved it, as she loved him.
“Did I please you, Sir?” she asked, praying he would reward her with his own acceptance. She didn’t care how he did it, or if it was in front of a hundred witnesses. Her craving for his reassurance was physical, and achingly painful.
He traced the line of her jaw as he considered his answer.
“Your mouth pleased me,” he said, brushing her lower lip. “But this was scarcely a punishment for you.”
She couldn’t deny it. She loved pleasuring him in this way. The taste of him, the sensation of him deep in her throat, never failed to bring her to the brink of orgasm. And he knew it.
What he might not sense was the change in her. How she wished to submit to his possession. Her mind searched for the words to tell him.
But before she could formulate the thought, the front door sailed open.
Everyone in the room looked over to see who it was. Caro’s heart literally stopped in her chest as a man strode into the foyer, jerking her violently back to reality.
Smythe.
Chapter 26
Their number one suspect halted at the top of the steps, leering down at the room like he owned the place. Behind him, two women approached and slid their arms around him. Shock coursed through Caro as she recognized Lauren Adams and her friend Rebecca.
They were both nude. Black shoes, leather collar and a pink-lipped giggle were Rebecca’s only adornments. Lauren had added a pair of handcuffs, both bracelets locked decoratively on her left wrist, but was otherwise identically undressed.
Mick lifted Caro to her feet before the trio spotted them. In her peripheral vision she saw Bobby and Cody. Both tall, muscular and handsome, the two men were already surrounded by a bevy of adoring female supplicants. When they saw Smythe they came to attention.
Bobby lifted his brow. Mick’s slight nod sent them off to lose themselves in the burgeoning crowd, presumably to enjoy whatever indulgences took their fancy as they shadowed Smythe’s every move for the rest of the night. To be sure the bastard didn’t slip through their grasp like last night. As he moved away, Cody sent her a searing look. She didn’t want to think about what it meant.
She dismissed him and turned back to Mick, gathering herself mentally. His facial expression was unreadable as he glanced at Lauren and Rebecca, but the chill in his eyes could freeze a person in their tracks.
What were they thinking? Lauren was an ex-cop; didn’t she sense how dangerous Smythe was? Hadn’t anyone told her that Smythe was their prime suspect? Even if they hadn’t, Caro found it inconceivable that Lauren couldn’t see past Rick’s friendly-security-guy façade to the evil beneath. Even before pegging Rick as Smythe he’d given Caro the creeps big-time. Was Lauren so ensnared in her vicious cycle of violent relationships that Smythe unconsciously fulfilled an ever-increasing sick need for abuse? Caro didn’t want to think about that, either.
Mick turned to her and took her face in his hands, forcing her attention back to him. He gave her a long, demanding kiss.
“Ignore them,” he ordered quietly, and kissed her again, letting his hands wander over her body, making her melt against him. “Let them come to us.”
It didn’t take long. She felt their eyes on her, on her brazen nakedness, even before she heard their greetings.
“Well, if it isn’t Master Michael and his little slave girl,” Lauren said in a teasing purr, sidling up to Mick and pressing her bare breasts against his arm.
The whole situation was surreal. Caro and the other two women feigned nonchalance, like being naked sex objects in a room full of clothed, staring men was perfectly natural. The frightening part was, it did feel somewhat natural. And unbelievably arousing. Like making love in front of that window, except much more immediate.
“I can’t get over how cute the leash is,” Rebecca said, running her fingers down the slim chain that spilled over Caro’s shoulder, tip-toeing over Mick’s hand as he held the end at his side. “So kinky.” She struck a flirtatious pose against Smythe while caressing Mick’s arm.
“Looks like we hit the wet dream jackpot, pal,” Smythe said with a lecherous grin. He reached over and patted Caro’s bottom. She jerked back.
“Don’t touch my woman without permission,” Mick said coldly. “You can look, but don’t touch.”
Smythe stepped back in mock surrender. “Sorry, pal. But you feel free to touch my harem girls all you want. Though, I guess you’ve already done one of them, what I hear.”
“You heard wrong, but I’m still not interested.” She felt the effort it took for Mick to relax his rigid muscles. “Got my hands full already, if you know what I mean.”
He turned her in his arms so she faced the others. Showing her off. Despite his tenseness, she could also feel his excitement as he indulged in one of his favorite fantasies—displaying her, then claiming her, proving his power over her to all who watched.
Which she knew also happened to be the best way to lure the Teddie Killer into their trap. Because playing the voyeur to that kind of power, then snuffing it out, seemed to be his favorite fantasy.
She nestled back into Mick’s embrace, satisfied to let him run the encounter. But ready to reach out and kill Smythe wit
h her bare hands to protect her man if need be. Mick had called her his woman. That ran both ways.
Smythe’s greedy eyes slathered over her, loitering on her painted nipples and smooth mound. “I know just what you mean, pal. She’s real special.”
Caro’s stomach turned. The man made her want to vomit—right after she pushed him under a bus. She eyed Lauren, wondering what her game was. Surely she couldn’t be attracted to such a vile dreg of humanity. Visions of the Teddie victims did a macabre dance in Caro’s head and she had to clutch Mick’s hand for support.
“How sweet,” Lauren purred acidly, observing the movement. “The slave girl is in love with you.”
Mick wound her leash around his palm, and calmly said, “Of course she’s in love with me. I’m her Master.”
For a nanosecond, Lauren’s mouth tightened. Then she smiled. “How quaint.”
A circle of observers was gathering. Three slaves with two men would attract attention anyway, regardless of the obvious tension zinging between them.
“But is she obedient?” Smythe asked.
Mick’s fingers stroked over Caro’s breast, squeezing it. “She’ll do anything to please me.”
“Anything?”
Mick leveled him a gaze, his hand sliding from her breast down her abdomen, to caress her mound. “If I tell her to.”
Here it comes , she thought, squirming as he slipped his forefinger between her moist folds.
“How about two other women?” Smythe asked. “Ever see three women go at it?”
Caro stood perfectly still. Lauren cocked her head. Rebecca licked her lips and smiled. Mick stroked Caro’s clit.
She jumped.
For a second her mind swirled with confusion, made worse by Mick’s finger bedeviling her.
No way.
She didn’t do women.
Besides, three women, or even two, was not the killer’s M.O.. The Teddie victims were all heterosexual couples.
“Sorry,” Mick answered. “Not into watching women. Not really into watching at all.”
Smythe grinned, his interest dipping between Caro’s thighs. “That’s right, you like being at the center of attention.”
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