by Raven, Jo
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 to 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.”
Shit. I can imagine the feel of his large hands on my body. I remember it from our first terrible meeting.
I want to feel them again, feel him, naked, against me. In me.
How am I supposed to focus on child psychology class like this? I throb so badly between my legs it’s uncomfortable. Can’t wait to see Riot again, try more.
Let him touch me, like he says, pleasure me. Beg him to. Feel his arms around me as he kisses me. I’m terrified that I’ll freeze or panic, but our last sessions have given me hope. He’s right. I’m not so afraid of him anymore. I’m used to his face, his body, his voice.
Insanely attracted to them, in fact, but that’s also fine, right?
As the class ends and I gather my things and get up, my cell dings with a text from Corey. He wants to get a tattoo and he’s been pestering me to go with him. Man, I really hope it’s not anything he’ll regret later on. He’s still hung up on the guy who dumped him, even though Corey himself has dumped two more men since then.
Jeez.
I text to let him know I’ll go with him—can’t let him do this unsupervised, God knows what he’ll do—and scroll down to the agency’s number.
Why not, right? It’s not like I have a crush on Riot or anything. He’s only helping me work through my fear.
My finger wavers over the number. I know that if I meet him again, it will happen. I’ll let him undress me, take me. It will be the last test. If I fail it, I may as well go away and become a hermit, or a nun.
Oh what the heck. I won’t know until I try, right? That’s what I used to be like, before fear crippled me. Adventurous.
Well, I’m not dead. I survived, and now I’ll do more than that. I’ll find myself. Rediscover sex with a man.
With Riot.
“Bad Boy Escorts, how may I—?”
“Hi, I would like an appointment with Riot.”
“Riot Gallagher?”
“Yes.”
“Your name, please?”
“Paxtyn Page.”
“Oh, Ms. Page. Apologies, I didn’t recognize your voice.”
I shift from foot to foot. Why should he recognize my voice? We’re not friends and we’ve only spoken a couple of times. This guy is weirding me out. “Right.”
“When would you like the appointment? The weekend or—?”
“Today.”
A silence greets my words. Word. Whatever. Why, I wonder. It’s not the first time I called and asked for an appointment on the same day.
“Riot is available at nine,” says the guy, his tone clipped.
Okay, what in the world is his problem? “That’s fine.”
“I’ll let him know. Thank you, Ms. Page. Same place?”
I hesitate. “No. I’ll give you another address.” He hums an affirmation, and I rattle off the address of my apartment.
After another thank you, he hangs up and I put my cell away.
Just weird. The agency guy sounded like he wasn’t happy with me.
Or Riot.
Huh.
Then what I’ve just done strikes me.
Riot in my apartment. In my living room, on my sofa.
In my bed.
Nervousness swamps me. Was that a stupid thing to do, ask for him to come over to my place, know where I live?
Oh stop it, I tell myself as I head to my car in the huge parking lot of the campus. Riot’s on the clock, and the agency checks on him. In fact they did background checks on all their escorts to make sure they don’t have a history of violence. The website said so.
Besides, Riot’s not a stalker. He’d never hurt me. I know it deep in my gut. The way he looks at me is predatory, like he wants to put his mouth all over me, put his cock into me, fuck me hard.
A wave of heat washes through me at the image.
Back on track. He may want to fuck me, but he won’t hurt me. What other guy would let me tie him up and do whatever I wanted? He’s doing all he can to help me, save me.
My place it is.
***
Corey is waiting for me outside the tattoo shop. It’s called Under The Skin, and it’s tucked between a Laundromat and a Thai restaurant. The smells drifting from the restaurant’s open door make my stomach growl.
“Hey, girlfriend.” Corey smiles when he sees me and throws his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, grinds it with the heel of his shoe. He always smokes when he’s nervous. “You made it.”
“You kidding me? There’s no way in the world I’d let you put ink on your skin without my supervision. You’re not to be trusted.” I stick my tongue out at him, and he does the same, because deep inside we’re a pair of two-year-olds.
Can’t always hide it.
We head inside and wait until the spunky girl at the reception desk finishes her call. The décor is all metal and graffiti and crazy tat designs.
Gives me tat envy. Maybe I can get a small one, too?
“What are you getting?” I poke Corey in the ribs. He looks distracted. “Hey.”
“Don’t know.” He waves a hand. “Something or other.”
What in the world? “You can’t be serious…”
He grabs a catalogue, starts leafing through it, green eyes hooded, lower lip tucked under his teeth.
What am I missing here?
“You insisted you had to get a tattoo. You asked me to come with you. We’re here. And you actually have no frigging clue what you would like. Then why the rush?”
He glances sideways, then back at me. “It was urgent, okay? What’s the design got to do with it?”
I gape at him. Eyes bulging and all. “You’re not Corey. The aliens kidnapped Corey and replaced him with a dummy.”
“Haha.” He scowls.
“You always told me tattoos are stupid. That only people who—”
“Shhh.” He tries to clap a hand over my mouth but I duck under his arm. Easy when the other guy is over six feet tall.
“Sorry.” Not sorry. “Spill, Corey. What’s going on inside your blond head?”
He says nothing. A guy is approaching us. Tall, muscular, in an Under Your Skin T-shirt, with dark hair and dark eyes and…
Oh dear God, no.
Corey is staring at the guy like he just came down from heaven. I mean, okay, the guy’s handsome, sure, but…
“You booked an appointment?” the guys asks and Corey nods frantically.
“Yeah. Corey.”
“Ethan.” He turns to the desk and bangs his fist on it. “Jasie, my client is here. N
ote it.”
“Yes, sir.” She mock-salutes, chewing pink gum and blowing a bubble.
Ethan shakes his head at her and turns back to us. He frowns. “Only one of you booked me, right? Corey.”
“That’s right.” Corey’s eyes are shining, green like leaves. He’s fairly jumping up and down with excitement.
“And have you chosen a design?”
“Of course. I want something…” Corey points at a pierced heart on Ethan’s muscular arm. “Something like this.”
Oh. My. God. Shoot me now.
“Follow me,” Ethan says with a faint, bemused smile and heads off to one of the cubicles.
I grab Corey as he starts after the man. “Are you out of your frigging mind?”
“What?”
“We’re here for the tattoo artist?”
“Well, I am.” He winks. “You’re here for me.”
Jesus Christ. “Very funny, Corey.”
“I know.”
***
At least Corey is taking the pain stoically, I’ll give him that. He’s sitting there, letting Ethan draw a heart and arrow on his arm, framed by roses, and says nothing.
Of course he’s staring at Ethan like he could eat him with a spoon, which makes things a little awkward.
“I should wait for you at the reception desk,” I say for the third time, but again Corey grabs my arm and stops me.
“No, no, no. You said you’ll hold my hand throughout this ordeal.”
Ethan arches a brow.
Yeah. Meet Corey, the drama queen.
“Fine.” Yeah, awesome. I stand there as Ethan works, the silence getting more and more oppressive. I think of Riot, think of his tattoos, and I open my mouth before I even realize. “Hey, do many people get flame tattoos?”
Ethan blinks, lifts the tattoo gun. “Flames, like…? Lots of tats with flames.”
“Orange and yellow. They look like metal sheet. Like gold.”
He looks uncomfortable. “I’ve seen them. Not many people get those, no.”
“What about Hellfire?”
“What about it?” He looks even more uncomfortable now, brows drawn together, jaw clenched tight.
“What are you talking about, Pax?” Corey tugs on my hand.