by Violet Blaze
“What's the futomomo?” I asked and Dash laughed.
“Now that is a legitimate question,” he told me, but he didn't answer it regardless. Instead, he reached down and scooped me up, my head spinning as I distinctly felt the loss of control in the situation.
Dash carried me over to the big bed and laid me down, pushing the black silk fabric of the fancy designer dress up to my hips, staring down at my bare nakedness in a way that made me feel twice as open, twice as exposed. I realized then that this was about so much more than just sex.
“You let me fuck you on that roof, Adelaide. You were wild and fierce and fighting, and you let me tame you.” Dash leaned down and pressed his mouth to my belly button, making me arch my hips up toward his face. He took hold of my pelvis and moved his way down slowly, turning the moment into a tortuous explosion that made me see white spots behind my eyelids. “I've never been so fucking honored,” he growled as he adjusted his hands and forced my thighs apart, exposing that aching heat to the room, to the roughness of his breathing. “Much as I want to lick that pussy and feel you come all over my face, I don't think that'll satisfy the folks at the Gibbous Moon. The shit I seen there … we're going to have to go over the top artistic with our play to get out of that kink.”
Dash made a growling sound in his throat and released me, moving away and heading over to a tall black and purple dresser a la Tim Burton. It was gothic and curved in all the right places, like a woman's body. I craned my neck to watch him as he opened the top drawer and drew out a glass dildo, one that was a completely different shape than the one he'd used last night.
“How did you know what you were going to do to me in the Play Room?” I asked him, voice breathy but not scared. I'd already tossed aside any notions of being afraid of Dash Buchanan.
“I didn't,” he said as he approached the bed and set the items in his hand aside, putting his palms flat on the bed and leaning over me. I opened my legs to him, wrapping them around his body and getting this sexy little growl in response. “I had some idea of what they might have in there and I improvised.” There was a long pause as his face grew serious again. “Adelaide …”
He trailed off as I raised my hips to meet his, grinding the hard denim bulge against my opening. An eager, needy move that I definitely wouldn't be using tomorrow night.
“You're going to see shit there that you don't like—lots of it. Scary fucking shit. There were things in those drawers last night that will haunt my nightmares. If you feel like you're gonna lose it, pull your knife out and stab some asshole right in his fuckin' face, I want you to look at me. Just look at me and I'll ground you. Know that no matter what happens, I got you.”
I sucked my lower lip into my mouth, but I didn't say anything. There were a million ways to respond to that, but I practiced staying quiet, letting Dash take the lead. When it came to the actual killing, The Violet Assassin would take over, but this, this was Dash's job.
He lifted the glass dildo off the bed and showed it to me. The end was slightly tapered, but overall it was long and thick, so big that I worried about him using it on me.
“This is pyrex,” he explained, his southern drawl turning everything he said into a damn come on, eyes sparkling gold in the light. He had bedroom eyes bad, and I swore I could feel the bulge of his cock twitching inside his jeans, desperate to bury itself in my heat. “It's specially designed so that when I put it in you, I can see everything magnified through it.”
My cheeks flamed with a rush of heat as I imagined Dash fucking me with that, staring at the deepest, most intimate part of me.
“This we'll take with us,” he said and I felt myself shiver. I knew we had to put on a show, but …
“Blood,” I said, and I was serious about it. “I can't have them looking inside of me like that.”
Dash stayed where he was, looking down at me, sweeping the short straight bangs from my forehead. It was a testament to his skill that neither my shoulders or arms were sore from being tied like this.
“Just for me then,” he confirmed and I nodded. There were just some things I didn't want to do.
Dash sat up, staying in the circle of my legs and then made me watch as he lubed up the toy, slicking his palm down it like he was jacking it off. When he pressed it up against my opening and then slowly, slowly, slowly, inserted it inside of me, I screamed again, voice echoing off the walls as I felt my body expand to accept the toy. It hurt for a split second and then the pain was gone and Dash was slipping it slowly in and out, his eyes glued to the clear shaft.
“Holy hell, sugar, you are beautiful inside and out.” He flashed me a short-lived grin, the expression drowning in a wash of vibrant heat as he swallowed hard against his own violent desire. Sweat dripped between his hard firm pecs and his nipples were stiff and pink. I wanted my mouth on them, teasing and swirling around the aching flesh.
I had to close my eyes as the pleasure became too intense, my hips lifting to meet each thrust, my mouth falling open, moans spilling freely into the dark room around us. Now that I was in here, that I was using this place as God and Dash intended, I realized that there was nothing—nothing—creepy about it.
Dash drove me to the edge, my eyes opening up as I met the edge of my pleasure head-on, the orgasm riding up inside of me like a wave. He paused just short of my coming, sliding the toy out and setting it aside.
“I found your limit,” he growled and then he flipped me over, tugging me toward the edge of the bed until my feet hit the floor. Dash curled his fingers around the column of rope between my shoulder blades and used it like a harness to hold me in place.
The sound of his zipper sliding down its tracks almost undid me completely.
I bit the blankets to keep myself from begging for it, begging him to fuck me into the edge of the mattress. He would get there in his own time if I just let myself relax and wait.
“Miss Adelaide Vaughn,” he whispered, hands caressing my ass, squeezing the plump flesh and kneading it with his fingers. “My first kiss and my first real sub. I think it's a fitting circle, don't you?”
And then the scalding warmth of his shaft was probing my slick sex, burying itself inside of me with that same aching slowness. I screamed again, mostly from frustration and then felt tears prick my eyes when he was fully buried deep, pelvis pressed tight to my ass. Dash adjusted my hips before be began to move, his balls teasing my clit with each thrust.
This was not a lovemaking session, not at all. This time when Dash fucked me, it was as wild and fierce as it'd been on the roof, too much tension between us to take it any slower. With time, maybe we'd both gain some self-control, but right now, we just needed to be joined. I couldn't explain it, the way I was drawn to him. He was as irresistible to me as a summer rainstorm. I wanted to be outside, barefoot and soaking, my mouth opened to a tumultuous sky. Each thrust of his body like a drop of rain hitting my tongue, warm, sensual, all encompassing.
Dash pounded me hard, holding me in place with the diamond rope, the sounds escaping his throat as thick and delicious as his voice, like warm molasses cookies.
But his grip … that was anything but sweet, hard and full of yearning, eagerness. The way he made me feel, I was glad I'd never been with another man. This experience was stark and sharp and fresh, and I was excited that I got to feel all of those things with him.
The orgasm felt different, sneaking up on me from out of nowhere, more like a flash flood than a wave, sending me screaming and thrashing over the edge, my body bound, my ass up, fully committed to my submission.
It was in that second that I felt it all click together.
Dash … I wanted to submit to him, listen to him instruct me, chastise me when I fucked-up, break my limits with a firm but gentle push. Out in the world, I made all my own choices, fought my own fights. The act of my submission was a choice, a liberation against everything else I had to deal with. Out there, I was the Violet Assassin, but in here, I just wanted to be Dash's.
I c
ame with an unladylike grunt and a few unwanted tears, my pussy clamping tight around Dash's shaft, milking and teasing and working him with the echoes of my pleasure until he pulled out suddenly and spilled himself all over my ass.
As I lay there panting, I could feel his warm cum leaking between my cheeks, dripping onto the bed.
Dash hauled me up using the rope, the bindings done up just right so that there was no pain when he lifted me to my knees and began to untie me. Within a minute, I was free and stretching my arms above my head with a languorous pleasure that was all new and beyond wonderful.
For the first time ever, I felt like those weird dark shadows inside my heart were sated and cared for, like they couldn't hurt me so long as Dash held them in his hands.
“Stand up,” he said, the tone of his voice making it clear this was still a command, “and I'll run you a damn bubblebath.”
Adelaide padded into my kitchen wearing a pair of purple silk pajamas that the personal shopper had picked out. Seeing the single button on the top done up, the rest of it hanging loose and exposing the round swell of her breasts, the long lean muscular line of her belly, I thought I might just pick that damn phone and call in to get that girl a raise.
“I slept too long again,” she said as I stood there and stared at the sea of texts from Apollo. They were all from early this morning, when I was tucked into the play room's bed with this new woman by my side, a woman that I felt like I could have things with that I'd never had before. Sure, I'd played around with dominance and submission, practiced the rope bondage, spanked a few chicks, but I'd never had a real sub, someone to take care of, to control, to teach.
I wanted all that with Adelaide.
One step at a time, you stupid motherfucker. Don't you go on and screw this up now.
“You slept just as long as you needed to,” I told her as she eyed the white foam takeout containers on the counter. “I ordered breakfast in, too. Ain't got a lick of cookin' skill in my whole body.”
“Me neither,” she said and we shared a small, secretive smile, the memories from last night flying right up to hit me in the damn face. All I wanted was to take her back in there, tie her up again, see what designs we could accomplish when we had all day and all night to just be together.
Instead, I had texts from a man I just met yesterday telling me he'd be watching the entire party from the Block as he pretended to work his magic on the security system. I also had messages from my band manager, my bandmates, my fucking dad again.
I ignored them all.
First, I was going to get through this damn party then I'd worry about working on the new album. We had studio time scheduled for Sunday to go over our next new single. Before all of this shit, I'd been real excited about it. This new album had been the highlight of my damn year, but now, it felt secondary to this thing with Adelaide—and I don't just mean the bullshit with TSR. I just wanted to spend some time getting to know her, fucking her properly so that when it came down to it, I could perform as a Dom without going all grunting beast on her poor ass.
Well, not that it seemed like she'd much minded me doin' it.
“Have you seen Layla yet?”
“Seen her? She came out here mad as a mule chewin' on fucking bumblebees.”
Adelaide bit her lower lip and flipped one of the containers open to find pancakes. I watched her with this deep surge of affection and possession taking over me, thinking of her beautiful naked body as we settled in the bath together and took turns watching each other's bodies, backs and fronts. We both managed to grab another orgasm before retreating to bed. At first she'd tried to sleep on the opposite side from me, but I'd wrangled her up and draped my body across hers. Usually, I didn't much care to sleep with women. With Adelaide, it felt like a damn privilege.
“What's she upset about?”
“She is right here,” Layla said, storming down the hall dressed to the nines, like she was planning on going out somewhere. “And she doesn't like the idea of you going to some fucking party thing with those people tonight. Adelaide, it is not your responsibility to save everyone and everything.”
“Layla—”
“No,” Layla said, shaking her head, brunette ponytail flapping like a flag in the wind, “you will let me finish.”
“Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child,” Adelaide growled, and for whatever reason, seeing her standing there with early afternoon sunshine streaming across her purple hair, lips pulled back in a scowl directed at her sister, I felt lucky as hell that she was even considering agreeing to be my sub. This girl was on fucking fire and despite living her whole life under the thumb of the Weeping Bones, she was as wild and aggressive and assertive as any woman—any person—that I'd ever laid my damn eyes.
I could not fucking wait for her to meet the other members of Pistols and Violets.
That was going to be a real hoot and a holler for damn sure.
Ah, and Mama. Fuck. Wait til she met my mama …
“Do you remember when that friend of yours got involved with some psycho who tried to choke the life out of her? You rushed over there to rescue her and ended up getting yourself shot at in the process. If Mom hadn't overheard your conversation and sent the boys after you, you might've wound up dead.”
“I was fifteen, Layla. Things have changed since then.”
“Oh, have they?” her sister said with a snap of her fingers, one hip propped out dramatically, her makeup heavy and thick despite the early hour. “If you leave for that party tonight, I am officially out of here. I will go home and tell Maverick and daddy everything, I swear it.”
“I'm sorry, Layla, but you can't do that. You don't understand what's—”
“Fuck this,” her sister said, spinning on her black heel and storming down the hallway. “I'm getting my shit and I'm getting the hell out of here.”
Adelaide pursed her lips and flicked her eyes to mine.
“I'm assuming you have handcuffs?”
A sly grin split my mouth as I nodded with my chin at the closed door of the dungeon room.
“Same dresser I was digging around in last night. Top drawer.”
“Thanks.”
Adelaide jogged over and slipped inside, emerging a few seconds later with a pair of black metal cuffs with purple fur on the inside. Without looking at me, she scooted around the counter and disappeared into my bedroom.
I just leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. There was no way in hell I was getting between two sisters in the middle of a catfight. I'd seen plenty of 'em between the Pistols and Violets girls and they were downright nasty. Any man that thinks women don't fight dirty ain't ever seen a real brawl with his own eyes.
Layla and Adelaide argued for a few more minutes as I waited, my mind whirring with all the ways things could go wrong tonight. One slip-up, just one, and everything would fall to shit. I took a deep breath and glanced at the phone Apollo had given me, sitting on the counter next to Adelaide's pancakes.
That video … it was too much to even think about without feeling sick.
What kind of man would I be if I sat by and continued to do nothing?
Not a man worthy of a girl like Adelaide Vaughn, that was for sure.
A flurry of cursing followed Miss Vaughn back down the hallway, her silky pj's streaming around her curvy body as she paused and listened to her sister rant and scream at the top of her lungs. Luckily, I'd had this place soundproofed to high hell—can't make music with all the neighbors calling in noise complaints. Or, like this one unfortunate time in my last apartment, the cops being called because they heard a woman 'screaming bloody murder'.
My grin got a little bigger as I looked at Adelaide and lifted a cup of black coffee to my lips.
“Is it safe to leave her screaming like that or should I gag her, too?”
“She'll be alright,” I said as Adelaide took up a seat at the breakfast bar and dug into her food with a plastic fork. A fridge full of fresh groceries and nobody in here knew how t
o use 'em. It was a damn shame. My gran would be rollin' in her grave right about now. I remember once, before Daddy stole me and went on the run, she tried to teach me to make gravy with bacon grease and biscuits with lard. Standing barefoot on a worn wooden stool in her sunlit kitchen in Georgia, that was one of the best days of my life.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Adelaide asked as I blinked up at her and realized I'd been lost in my memories there for a second.
“My gran—on my dad's side—was a good woman. I can't for the life of me figure out how she managed to raise such a pathetic asshole. Maybe we got all them bad genes from her dead husband? Don't suppose I'll ever really know for sure.”
“Well if your dad got bad genes from his grandpa, then you must've gotten all the good ones from your mother and grandmother.” Adelaide smiled a little and brushed hair away back from her face, the sight of her sitting there in a pair of pajamas, putting big messy bites of pancake into her mouth, I wasn't sure that I'd ever seen anything more beautiful.
“Where is this place we're going to tonight? Is it in the middle of butt fuck nowhere like the Block?”
“No, ma'am. It's in this swanky new construction, perched right on the edge of the Red Rock Canyon Conversation Area. Ugly as sin. It's about … mm, a half hour from here or so.”
“How are we getting there?” she asked and I gave a tight-lipped smile.
“We'll hop on my bike and head back over to the Hard Sell, have my dad's driver pick us up there. We need to pack all our shit up in the saddlebags and get ready at the other place.” I glanced at the time and felt my stomach twist in a knot. It was just after twelve, but the party started at eight. Eight hours was not a lot of time to get all gussied up and figure out a game plan. The rope bondage would be a nice touch—especially if I got to fuck Adelaide after tying her legs up in the futomomo—but it wasn't going to be enough.
Ingvar Dunham only let me have that auction because he thought he'd get to share—all the members did it, brought their Companions and passed 'em around like whores. For me to keep Adelaide safe, I'd need to have a damn good story and a show worth watching.