I nodded and he eased back into position atop my chest.
I’d tried stuff with other lovers—handcuffs fastened to bedposts, a slap or two planted on a willing, firm butt cheek, sex toys and sensation lubes—but I’d never delved too far into bdsm. Still I understood enough to know that some people into this sexual subculture enjoyed the rush a person got from adrenaline released during pain / pleasure stimulation. It became a natural high. A test of one’s mind over matter, and though I had never really experienced it like this until Hans, I could understand the appeal of this world.
I tipped the candle over his pinkish brown nipple and let the pale blue stream of wax dribble onto his aureole. When it hit his flesh, he cried out and arched his back deep. His hand went to my hip and his fingers dug into my flesh, grasping hard as this intense sensation rocketed through him. His eyes went wide and euphoric, and his mouth dangled open as the stimuli took him over completely.
At his request, I repeated the process with his other nipple. His right aureole looked a bit swollen and red, but he told me to keep going. He knew his threshold. He thrashed and growled atop me, his ass caressing my cock until it burned with the need to fuck him. I groaned in time with his groans.
“Down my chest.” His breath was shallow and rapid. “Then you can fuck me.”
I did as he requested, letting a trail of the fluid blue wax spill onto his gleaming, wet skin. It mingled with the water beading his lean pecs and ran down in a thin rivulet until it hardened from the cool air. He sighed and shuddered, and his eyes closed as he touched the wax that now melded to his flesh. Bits of the cooled candle flecked off his skin and fell into the water.
He turned in my arms again and clutched my face. “Now, fuck me. Hard.”
“Condoms?” I arched an eyebrow. After all, we were perfect strangers, and neither of us knew each other’s sexual history.
“I can guarantee I’m clean,” he spoke sincerely. “Derek is the last man I touched, and we only made out. I never slept with him.”
“I’ve been with Derek often,” I said, laying my sexual history on the line. “But I know he’s clean. He’s picky about who he screws and he gets tested, and makes me get tested. Guy’s a little obsessive compulsive about his sexual hygiene, but I think that’s a good thing.”
“So you trust me?” He smoothed my dark, wet hair back.
I gave him a feral kiss and said, “Yes.”
Then I spun him around, which made water slosh up the sides of the tub, and I positioned him to take my cock.
I nudged my plump glans slowly into his opening, taking my time stretching him wide for my thick shaft. He moaned and his eyes fluttered closed. As his anus relaxed, he took more of me. Inch after inch slipped in, and I slid closer to my own personal version of heaven. I pumped in and out smoothly, measuring my thrusts so I wouldn’t hurt him with my impressive girth.
He reached back and clutched at my neck then he growled against my lips. “Fuck me harder. I won’t break.”
I did as he commanded, shoving my penis in deep, stroking his prostrate until he closed his eyes and moaned over and over, lost to his building climax. While I fucked him like a feral beast, I coiled my wet hand around his erection once more and worked his foreskin up and down his veiny shaft. I pulled my grip away long enough to tease and tug at his balls. Then when I milked his penis again, it was mere seconds before his swollen glans spit pearly cum high into the air. It sounded like falling rain when it hit the water, and it spattered the sides of clawfoot tub.
***
He took me into his bed and we tucked ourselves beneath warm flannel blankets and a patchwork quilt. I fell asleep to the sound of crickets and frogs singing beneath the open bedroom window.
We woke up early, and Hans treated me to a delicious breakfast of ham and eggs with strong black coffee.
After I helped him with the dishes, he turned to me and said, “I want to show you something. Something for your story. Something no one else has seen.”
I went and grabbed the digital voice recorder I’d been using to take down his info. He didn’t know I’d been conveniently smuggling it into our game sessions. When I met him in the kitchen, he was sporting that wily smile and holding a blindfold.
I stopped, gave a frown at the piece of black silk he held, then grinned. “What’s this about?”
“Protection.”
My eyebrow raised. “Not another game?”
He chuckled. “Maybe later. No, this is just a little insurance.”
I shoved my hands in the pockets of my cargo pants. “You said you trusted me last night.”
He nodded and walked closer with the blindfold outstretched. “And I do, but you are the first person I’ve ever taken to this place. Call me suspicious, but I don’t want you mapping out the location to Derek later. Besides, you said you trusted me, too.”
I held up my hands and gave a grin of compromise. “Okay, you win. Show me what you got.”
He moved behind me quick as a cat and wrapped the silky cloth over my eyes. The knot he tied at the back of my head was snug but comfortable. After he fastened it, he nipped at the top of my ear and whispered, “Let’s go.”
My world became absolute darkness as he took my arm and led me out of the house, down the few stairs leading from the porch, and into his car. We drove for about an hour, I estimated. Then he led me out of the car and through undergrowth that crunched beneath my loafers. The smell of wet earth was sharp in my nostrils. Spindly branches slapped at my arms and face as we walked.
I thought about how vulnerable I’d made myself to this guy. All for a boring local legend story that had, over this weekend, become far from boring. But maybe, though I didn’t want to admit it, this was about more than that. Maybe I felt compassion for Hans and his story of heartbreak. Perhaps it struck a raw nerve, reminding me of Doug, the lover who left me long ago after a five year partnership. He said I was too cold, too emotionally distant, and he could never tell if I really loved him. So, maybe I could identify with the loss Hans felt, although his loss had been far more tragic than mine.
Still, as we hiked through the woods, dodging trees that grew in a sinuous path, I remembered what he’d said about taking care of the sergeant, and I wondered if that was what he had in store for me? Was Hans really about to silence me, just in case I printed more than he was comfortable about sharing with the Review readership? I’d just have to take my chances.
We finally stopped and he took the blindfold off. I took in the lumpy patch of forest we stood in. It wasn’t particularly beautiful. The maples here were too sparse and thin. A lone fir and a few badly scarred oaks also dotted the landscape. Small, muddy hills that sprouted patchy, brown grass stretched before me. The land had an ominous feel to it, as if it watched and resented my presence.
Hans led me to a sickly looking maple and he cleared away the leaves from the mound next to the tree. Using a shovel he’d brought with him from the car, he dug a shallow hole in the mound and pulled a small plastic bag out. He put the package on the ground in front of me and opened it, displaying its contents.
A half dozen gingerbread poppets, wrapped in plastic to preserve them, were revealed.
“This is what’s left of Sargeant Fields,” Hans told me.
I gaped at him, but tried to keep my cool, despite the way my heart sped up. My palms started to sweat when I looked at his shovel and thought of how easy it would be to cave my head in with the tool.
“The rest of him,” he continued, meeting my gaze with those unreadable eyes, “is in the bellies of Darmoor folks who doubted my innocence.”
I backed away from him, aghast and somewhat afraid for my life.
His eyes went from impassive to weary and pleading. “I know, Greg. What I did was unspeakable.” His shoulders sagged. “Revenge and love are powerful. They can make you do wonderful and terrible things.”
“How do I know you won’t kill me now?”
He gave a sad laugh. “I haven’t kille
d anyone since the sergeant. Or before. And I have no desire to kill again. I’m not some sociopath or serial killer. I was just an angry man who took vengeance for the woman he loved.”
He could justify it all he wanted. He was still a killer, and I was still jumpy in these eerie woods and circumstances. “Why … why did you bury a piece of him out here?”
Now his smile turned slightly menacing, sending a shiver up my spine. “I gave the woods an offering and the trees keep my secret. As far as the people of Darmoor know, Sergeant Fields disappeared without a trace. When he vanished, the town divided. Half the people decided Fields must’ve killed Rebecca, while the other half still suspected me. But my name was cleared, and there was nothing they could do but spin their gossip.”
“The forest protects you and you protect it?” I asked, thinking his esoteric air of mystery was rubbing off on me.
He winked and turned back to the car. “You could say that.”
***
I packed up my bag and headed downstairs at dawn on Sunday morning. The story I’d write was already forming in my head. This year, the Darmoor murder legend piece would be an article readers would talk about for a long time. And it would be to my credit. Landing this could get me that job I’d just applied for with a prominent Toronto television station.
When I went in to see Derek, he was all smiles and anticipation over the big scandal breakthrough I promised. First, though, I had a question or two for my boss. After all, the juicy goods I had were enough to dangle over his head, but I’d have to play my cards carefully. I wanted to know about his past with Hans.
And, for the first time in my reporter career, guilt nagged at me too as I walked into our Sudbury office. Hans had given me full permission to print his secrets. He only asked I not write about the sergeant’s murder and remains. And I was torn over this. More torn than I had been in a long time. Hans was a killer. People would want him brought to justice. But what the sergeant did to him and Rebecca that afternoon … well, really, Hans was acting in self defense in my books. But that didn’t mean a judge would see it that way.
Did I break this scandal open and send the police to Hans’ door, or did I keep it under wraps to protect my weekend lover? Doing so would stifle my chance for that prime job opportunity. Printing everything would ruin Hans’ life.
“Did you bring the recordings?” Derek turned to me with a boyish grin spread across his eternally youthful face.
“I did.” I held up the compact machine to show him. “But I have a question for you. Were you and Hans lovers? He told me you were the first person to interview him after Rebecca’s murder. Why did you keep that from me?”
He shrugged. “It didn’t seem all that important. And, yeah, we had sex, if that’s what you mean. I tried to get more out of him, played his game, but he wouldn’t spill the goods for me like he did for you.”
I searched his face. He seemed to be telling the truth. If Derek was lying, the right side of his mouth twitched. No twitch meant honesty, so I took him at his word and sat in the chair in front of his desk.
“Ready?” I flashed a wide smile, but it felt false.
He returned the grin. “Let’s hear it.”
I hit the play button and both of us gaped at each other in shock.
There was nothing but silence and an annoying sound like static. I stopped the digital voice recorder, checked the display. The MP3 readout said zero, which meant every file had been wiped off the device.
“What the fu—”
“There’s nothing?” Derek stared at me, blank faced.
I took out the memory card, put it back in, fiddled with the device some more. Still, when I pressed playback, we got nothing.
“Don’t worry, I put the files on my laptop. Let’s head to my place and I’ll play you the back up.”
“Can’t right now.” Derek held up a hand, looking annoyed. “I’ve got a meeting with our major investors in ten minutes. They aren’t pleased with our last quarter reports.”
I grimaced and stood, feeling like a shit, but also confused as hell. I checked the recordings just before I came into the office. They were there, crisp and clear. A thread of apprehension tickled up my spine.
“All right, I’ll go grab my laptop and meet you back here in two hours?”
Derek nodded, still looking pissed at this setback on top of the bigwigs breathing down his neck. Who could blame him? I was pissed, too, and completely baffled.
I rushed out of the office and slid into my Honda. Soon, I was outside my Sudbury apartment then in the elevator headed up to my unit.
As I slid my key in the door, it opened. I swore and looked up into blue eyes and a crooked angel smile.
“Hello, Greg.”
“Hans!” I gawked at him, wide-eyed. “What’re you doing here?”
He took my hand, tugged me into my apartment, and slipped the voice recorder out of my hand. “You didn’t really think I’d let you print any of my secrets, did you?” He tucked a slender finger under my chin. “I knew you were going to tell Derek everything. I thought I could trust you.”
“No, I wasn’t going to tell him everything,” I protested, pulling away from him. “I was torn about giving you up, and I thought about it, but I decided I couldn’t tell him all your secrets.”
Hans stood leaning against the kitchen counter. He appeared less than convinced. “I’m not buying that. You recorded every word. I know you did, and I’ve come here to ensure your silence.”
My mouth went dry and I prepared for a fight. A fight for my life. “Exactly how do you think you’ll do that?”
His eyes glittered like jewels. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I have no plans to kill you. Relax. But I do have another proposition.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, assumed a defensive stance just in case. I wasn’t ready to relax yet. “Let’s hear your deal.”
He smiled, his face showing all the cunning of a fox. “There’s something between us. An instant chemistry.” He moved forward and stroked my face. “I’d like to keep that. I think we could be good together.”
I shrugged, trying to deny the odd way he made my heart twist and beat harder. “I’m not really the relationship type.”
“No, but what about a mutually beneficial arrangement?” He wrapped his arms around my waist. Our lips hovered inches apart.
“I’m listening.”
“You want to work for UrbanTV. I just happen to be good friends with one of the major shareholders. I made a call earlier today, and it looks like they need a new host for their show City Life. If you agree to come to Toronto with me, and keep my secrets, the job is yours.”
I pulled back from him, gave him a speculative up and down perusal. “You’re bluffing. What about your place back in Darmoor, your business?”
He cupped my cock through my pants and rubbed the head. “I sold the business and the house. It was time to leave that place behind me. Your visit made me realize that. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. The last person I trusted like that was Rebecca.”
“But I was going to betray you,” I whispered, and the words became a moan as he unzipped my pants and coiled his fingers around my swelling cock.
He gave a throaty chuckle. “No, you weren’t. Ultimately, I know I already own your heart.”
Though his words made me shiver, I knew he was right. This mysterious, probably dangerous, man did own my heart. I couldn’t have betrayed him to Derek, even if the recordings hadn’t been mysteriously erased. And I didn’t have to ask him. I knew Hans was responsible.
“Okay, I’ll go to Toronto with you. I’ll keep your secrets.”
“Excellent.”
Hans produced a cell phone from his jeans pocket and punched in a number. A moment later, he was speaking to Drake Garton, a man I knew as a media mogul who owned 75% of UrbanTV. He held the phone to my ear and let Drake himself tell me I had the job. Through my awe, I mumbled thanks and then Hans pressed END.
Then he
picked something up off my kitchen counter, and I noticed it was a riding crop. He brushed the tip over my lips. “Now, one more thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked, my eyelids fluttering closed as he continued to grope my erection, fondle my balls, while he teased my mouth with the whip.
“You thought about betraying me. You need to be punished. Kneel and give me your ass.”
I bit the tip of the riding crop then wrapped my hand around its long, thin length and tugged on it, pulling him closer. His body molded to mine.
“What if I say no?” I retorted, then I nipped at his chin.
“I have a feeling you’ll agree,” he said before he ripped my pants and briefs to my knees.
He was right. I couldn’t deny this captivating witch, and I didn’t want to. Caution went out the window with Hans, and we played round number three.
***
Bad Boy Biker
Bad Boys of BDSM Vol. 3
By C.J. Sneere
Their tempers burn hot. Their chemistry burns hotter.
***
Bad Boy Biker
Bad Boys of BDSM Volume 3
Chapter 1
“No, Haden. No way.” Lisa swung her arms to emphasize her words. “I’ll get the money somehow.”
“How are you going to get $1200 before next week?” Haden rose up off the porch swing and moved toward his sister. “I’m doing it, whether you like it or not.”
“I get good tips at Tuckers. And my sales through the Lotions ’N’ Potions site are going up.”
Haden shook his head and exhaled his frustration. They both knew her tips from the diner style restaurant she worked at would not cover the overdue mortgage payments. Sure, her online business selling homemade lotions, soaps, and other items was starting to take off, but there were other bills to pay, too. And the foreclosure notice he’d found tucked among the other bills on top of the refrigerator was almost a week old. She had five days left to get the cash, or she and Colton and Haden would be homeless.
Colton, Lisa’s two year old toddler, stood up in his playpen and jabbered at them, as if the little blond kid was telling them to stop fighting.
BDSM Mega Boxed Set Page 20