Beyond Addiction

by Desiree Holt

  But he was supposed to be the one in charge, so he’d better control himself.

  He’d placed several items on the nightstand before taking his shower. Now he picked up the large square of silk, folded it several times and placed it over Fallon’s eyes.

  “You know how this goes,” he reminded her. “Darkness accentuates everything. I want you to just feel.”

  He nudged her to lift her head slightly so he could tie the ends, then eased her back down to the pillow. Next he picked up the lined handcuffs. The headboard was hand-carved oak with an intricate design of slats, the entire perimeter accented with metal studs. Someone would have to look very closely to see that some of the studs were really small hooks embedded in the wood.

  Cord fastened one cuff around each wrist, then threaded a thin steel chain through one of the hooks and attached an end to each cuff, firmly securing her arms. Finally he fastened leather cuffs around her ankles and thighs, bent her knees, and locked her ankles and thighs together.

  Hands imprisoned over her head, legs splayed wide, Fallon’s entire body was open to him.

  His cock throbbed insistently.

  Damn!

  He tossed away the towel, which was tenting inconveniently and getting in his way. Wrapping his fingers around his thick shaft, he idly stroked it as he took in the sight before him. She wanted an orgasm? He’d give her one. And another. And another.

  The last thing he lifted from the nightstand was a tiny clitoral vibrator. He loved using it on Fallon because she was so sensitive and responsive. By now he was sure she was so on edge, it wouldn’t take much to push her over.

  He would have liked to use earplugs and a ball gag as well, but early in their relationship he’d learned that just the sight of them terrified her. She’d never told him why, but he damn well knew. He cursed Willoughby again, that the man would turn instruments of pleasure into symbols of fear and punishment.

  If they got past their current crisis, he was determined to show Fallon just how much those particular tools could enhance her responsiveness.

  The Dom who’d trained him all those years ago had been very explicit about the use of them to help subs tumble into subspace. But sensory deprivation had to be administered properly. Used incorrectly, subspace could be a place where a bottom could lose all sense of reality and never recover. It was up to the Dom to control it. Cord had the nasty feeling Willoughby had used it as yet another punishment.

  Back up on the bed, he positioned himself again between her thighs and clipped the tiny vibrator right to her clit. Fallon jumped, a tiny whimper escaping her mouth.

  “Easy, girl. Deep breaths.”

  Stiffening his tongue, he thrust it rapidly in and out of her opening. As he did, he flicked the tiny switch that turned on the vibrator. Fallon jerked the moment the sensations buzzed through her, although her movements were severely limited by her restraints.

  Cord continued to work on her with his mouth and tongue. In barely more than a few minutes, she was a quivering mass, jerking and shaking as he drove her up and over the edge. He held her labia open as her orgasm raced through her, drinking in the sight of the luscious pink flesh spasming and clenching over and over again. A long scream burst forth as she rode out the aftershocks. When he turned off the vibrator and slid three fingers inside her to calm the twitching inner nerves, the sigh she gave was one of obvious relief.

  But he was nowhere near finished.

  Giving her mere seconds to recover, Cord went to work with his fingers, stroking and pinching and teasing. Her body, sensitized from the first climax and all the stimulation beforehand, reacted more quickly this time. Pinching her clit over and over, he stroked his fingers in and out, pushing her up, up, up again and finally over. He couldn’t believe how wet she was, how juicy, how much her body responded. He held her, his arms atop her bound legs, hands on her hips, as she rocketed through the release, wild noises coming from her throat.

  He gave her a few minutes, idly lapping at her nipples and down through the valley of her breasts to her navel before he began again at her very core. When he fastened his teeth onto her clit, so sensitive from the vibrator and two climaxes, she gave a small scream and tried to twist herself away from him.

  “Uh-uh-uh,” he cautioned. “I’m far from through yet. Lie still.”

  But he knew he wasn’t going to last as long as he’d hoped. His cock was sending him urgent messages, piercing his brain.

  She made little indistinguishable noises when he moved away, her breathing quickening, her legs straining against their bindings. Lifting the dildo from the nightstand, he slid it slowly into her pussy, pushing it in just an inch at a time. He turned it on at a low hum when it was still only partially inserted, and once more she tried to twist away.

  He slapped her exposed ass cheeks, both of them, hard.

  “I didn’t tell you to move,” he warned. “I want you just as I placed you, helpless and open for my pleasure.” He moved up her body so his mouth was a mere breath from hers. “And, girl? I want you to remember this. All of this comes from my heart. Here, in this room, you are my complete sub. To do with as I wish. But all you have to do is use your safeword, anytime, and it all stops.”

  He was reminding her that with him, there were limits and boundaries. And choice. All she had to do was exercise it. He waited, edgy, to see what she’d do.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked. “You only have to tell me.”

  If he was pushing her too far, with all the emotional turmoil going on, he’d back off. But it was that very turmoil he was trying to wipe away.

  “Don’t stop,” she said at last in a very faint voice. “Please, Sir. Don’t stop now.”

  He let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Very well, then.”

  When the dildo filled her completely, he turned the vibration level up a notch and reattached the little toy to her clit. Immediately her body jolted again. Twitched. She strained to close her thighs but the restraints held them ruthlessly apart.

  As she shook and jolted, he braced an arm across her bent legs and slowly glided the metal wand from her ass. Testing her opening, he satisfied himself that enough of the salve still remained to lubricate her, and slid one finger into her dark tunnel.

  “Aaahhh!”

  The cry ripped from her mouth, her head thrashing back and forth and she did her best, in her awkward position, to push down on his probing digit. Curling it just slightly, he scraped her hot tunnel, sparking the nerve endings. Perspiration covered her body as she tried to deal with the dual assault. Cord shifted just enough so he could take the very tip of one nipple into his mouth and bite down gently.

  The sensation was enough to tip her over the edge again, her body convulsing wildly as shudders rippled through her like undulating waves. He rode her through it, backing off only when she lay panting on the bed, eyes closed, breasts heaving as she fought to regain her breath.

  He eased the vibrator from her body, removed the little toy on her clit, and grabbed aloe wipes from the nightstand drawer to clean them both.

  Then, while she remained trussed, he rolled on a condom, pressed his hands to the insides of her thighs, and pushed into her wet channel with one hard thrust.

  “I can’t!” she cried, her breathing erratic. “Cord, I can’t do it again!”

  “Yes, you can,” he insisted. “One more. For me. For us. Obey your Sir.”

  He’d thought to establish an easy rhythm, build up to it gradually, but he was so damn hard from all the things he’d done to her, his balls so tight and aching, that slow was no longer in his vocabulary. He drove into her again and again, the head of his cock bumping against her cervix. With each thrust she cried out as if in protest, but the liquid of her pussy bathing his shaft told him blatantly that she was ready again. For him.

  The muscles in his back tightened with the familiar signal and his balls drew up. Desperate to have her come at the same time, he reached between them for her tormented c
lit and rubbed the little nub of flesh, watching her face and her body for signals that she was close. When the walls of her pussy tightened around him, he increased his pace.

  In seconds he exploded, semen pulsing into the thin latex sheath in great spurts as her walls gripped and milked him.

  When there was nothing left of either of them, he pulled from her body slowly. He took a moment to dispose of the condom before unfastening the blindfold, wrist and ankle cuffs and tossing them aside. He extended each leg carefully, lowering it to the mattress and massaging the muscles. When he was satisfied she wasn’t in distress, he lifted her from the bed.

  “Time to take care of you.” He brushed his lips over hers.

  In the bathroom, he sat her on the vanity stool for a moment, making sure she was balanced before pouring her a glass of water from the pitcher he had in readiness.

  “Drink slowly,” he urged, arm around her, supporting her as he held the glass to her lips.

  When he was satisfied she’d hydrated her body enough, he lifted her again and stepped into the tub. He’d run it boiling hot so now it was just the right degree of warm. Settling into place, he arranged her between his thighs and tilted her head back against his chest. He poured body wash with aloe vera into the palm of his hand, worked it into a lather, and began massaging every inch of her body.

  Cord took his time, cleansing her inside and out, careful not to let her slip beneath the surface in her weakened state. When he’d finished, he punched the button to turn on the jets and leaned back, Fallon resting against his chest with his arms around her.

  Tonight he’d felt an obsessive need to imprint himself on her. To find a way to tie her to him irrevocably. But the bitter fact was, the only one who could make that choice was Fallon. And it frightened him to think she was slipping away, despite his best efforts.

  When they’d gotten out of the tub and he’d dried them both, Cord tucked her into bed. Curling his body around Fallon’s, he mentally crossed his fingers that this evening was enough to break the hold Brian Willoughby still seemed to have on her. But the sick feeling lodged in his stomach told Cord he might have already lost.

  Chapter 9

  Fallon looked at her cell phone as if it might bite her. This was the third time Brian had called her today. She’d let the first two calls go to voicemail but now temptation was sitting on her shoulder like a troublesome imp. And oh, wasn’t the evil imp just the icon of the day. She cursed herself for not blocking his number but that tiny portion of her brain that still belonged to him had somehow stopped her from doing it.

  Why is it that evil imbeds itself so insidiously? Is so tempting? Like candy you know is bad for you?

  Her finger hovered over the bar to answer the call. Knowing she shouldn’t do it, she still pressed the button and lifted the phone to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “You ran away before we could get to the good part yesterday.” Brian’s voice vibrated in her ear, the all too familiar, low, seductive sound of it wickedly thrilling.

  Immediately her nipples hardened and the walls of her pussy contracted. She tried desperately to conjure up an image of Cord, to remember how wonderful it had been just last night. Anything to blunt the effect Brian had on her, but she felt as if that image was already wavering.

  “I h-had to leave,” she stammered.

  “It occurred to me that perhaps I was approaching this all wrong,” he continued, his voice almost a purr. “It’s been a long time since you—left. I need to remind you of what brought you to me in the first place.”

  “Brian—”

  “Don’t interrupt.” The tone was sharp, but softened at once with his next words, the hypnotic timbre of it reaching her even through the wireless connection. “So let’s try this.” His voice deepened even more. “I’d like to take you to lunch. Just lunch. Perhaps you can tell me about this man who has you in such thrall. If you convince me this is what you really want, then we might at least part friends. So… lunch. Today.”

  What could happen in a public place? They’d be in a restaurant full of people. She could get up and leave any time she wanted to. She’d managed to break through his mental hold yesterday, after all.

  Barely…

  But I did. I’m strong enough to do this. I’ll think about Cord. And maybe this lunch will be the chance for me to shut this door once and for all.

  If not, if she still had this sick addiction to Brian Willoughby, if she couldn’t walk away from him forever, then Fallon knew she didn’t deserve Cord. She needed to leave him and let him find happiness with someone better than her.

  She blew out a breath. “Okay. Fine. Where, and what time?”

  “How about the Cimarron?” Now he sounded sly. “Where it all started. We can revisit that meal.”

  Her stomach knotted. In the hotel? Where he’d first seduced her into his perverted idea of the world of bondage?

  “I’m not sure about that. How about some other place?”

  “Afraid of me?” he taunted, his smooth voice reaching through the connection to wrap itself around her. “I wanted to revisit the good memories we made there. You’ll be free to leave whenever you choose.”

  Would she, though? Really? She let out another long breath. She had to confront this, one way or another.

  “No. I don’t think so.” If he really meant what he said, he’d change the location. She couldn’t walk into that hotel again. “Pick another place.” She forced herself to wait patiently for his answer.

  “Fine,” he said at last. “How about Bronte’s at Frontier Suites?” His voice took on a nasty tone. “That suit your tastes?”

  “Yes. Good. Thank you.” He probably owned that damn place too, but at least it didn’t hold bitter memories. And she’d set the time. “One o’clock.”

  “One o’clock,” he agreed.

  Then he was gone, no goodbye or anything.

  Typical.

  Fallon knew if she were smart she would tell Cord what was happening and make him understand that she needed to do this. But she was sure there was no way he’d truly comprehend the situation. A decent Dom like Cord wouldn’t understand her sick fascination for someone like Brian. She barely understood it herself. One of the things Claire had hammered home again and again was the fact that Brian had fucked with her mind. That it hadn’t been just her body he’d seduced. Like a hypnotist, he’d drawn her in a little at a time until the trap was sprung and she was caught without a will of her own.

  No, she’d have to keep this to herself. It was important to Fallon that she handle this alone. That she prove to herself she didn’t have to hide behind Cord; didn’t need his help to make this crucial break.

  She’d go and have lunch; sever this invisible bond once and for all. Then she could go home to a man who respected her and treated her as a sub should be treated. And get on with her life. Brian wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t like to lose but surely he’d see that pursuing her was a waste of time.

  She hoped.

  It was actually closer to one fifteen when she reached the hotel and the entrance to the restaurant. Brian detested being kept waiting. Said he didn’t stand for others wasting his time. But for Fallon this was a little act of independence, letting him know she really was no longer under his control. If he showed his anger she’d just leave quickly. He wouldn’t attack her or make a scene in public. Not when it would affect his image.

  Besides, he was as good at seduction as he was at brute force. So today, she was sure, would be all about the preliminary steps in the dance. Testing to see if he could still arouse feelings and responses.

  Reminding me of the things that I craved in the beginning.

  Damn it anyway.

  This is a big mistake. Huge mistake. But I need to convince myself he truly no longer has any hold on me.

  I’m doing this for Cord too.

  When she entered the restaurant, she started to give her name to the hostess but the maître d’ rushed to greet her.


  “Madame Crowe? Mr. Willoughby is waiting.” He bowed slightly. “This way, please.”

  She tensed at the words, remembering times she’d disobeyed and how angry he’d been. But they were in public. And he was planning to throw an invisible silken rope around her and reel her in. So no, if he was angry it wouldn’t show. Not yet.

  The maître d’ led her past tables of people dining in the quiet atmosphere of the main room. Silverware clinked softly and crystal tinkled lightly as a counterpoint to the hushed tones of conversation. She glanced around as she walked, taking in the décor. Another restaurant with a Western theme, though less showy. The space boasted tasteful, iconic symbols of Texas. If she really thought about it, Brian wasn’t much different from the early cattle barons who’d carved out the state. They had been vicious, voracious and arrogant, building their fortunes on the misfortunes of others. And bedding every woman who came within fifty feet of them.

  She swallowed a sigh. Why hadn’t she been smart enough to see him for what he was in the beginning, and not for the romantic figure she’d believed him to be? She’d just been so flattered that he’d paid attention to her, been attracted to her, that she’d let herself fall into hell without looking for a safety net.

  The maître d’ ushered her back to where the room curved into an L shape, to a booth where they were nearly hidden from sight. Of course. How like Brian to arrange for such privacy. If she had any sense she’d leave right now, but she’d convinced herself this was do or die.

  She prayed it wasn’t the latter.

  Brian stood as she approached the booth and discreetly handed a folded bill to her escort. “Thanks, Lawrence.”

  The man bowed himself away.

  Fallon was trembling as she slid into the seat opposite him and clenched her hands in her lap so he wouldn’t notice. As she expected, he didn’t show any impatience with her tardiness. Yet a tiny thread of familiar fear coupled with the erotic anticipation of punishment wiggled its way through her. Knots tightened in her stomach and she felt slightly nauseous, even as the crotch of her thong dampened.