by HELEN HARDT
Garrett said nothing as he turned to follow the hostess who’d come to greet them—a tiny woman with straight black bangs, a practiced smile, and fake tits. She led them to one of many sumptuous sitting areas lining the room and then motioned for them to sit in big leather chairs. One wall was consumed by an expensive-looking portrait of an exotic naked beauty holding decorated fans over her body in all the right places. A backlit bar gleamed in the corner, and the air smelled like eucalyptus and mango. Aside from the artwork and the hostess with the mostest popping open a couple of beers for them, the place could’ve been a classy lounge back home.
“Good afternoon. My name is Gia.” The woman’s English was a soft combination of proper British and come-fuck-me seduction.
“Hi there, Gia.” Zeke smiled with what wasn’t his complete panty-melting smirk—yet. “I’ll take a beer.”
“Ditto,” Garrett added.
“Can I get you boys…anything else? Are these acceptable accommodations, or would you like something more…relaxing?”
“This is fine,” Garrett insisted. “Thank you.”
A small pressure on his thigh drew his gaze lower. He watched her red-polished fingernail trail an inch closer toward his cock, nearing its one-hour mark of flagpole status thanks to Sage’s first kiss. “You’re a beautiful man.” She licked her bottom lip. “You’re certain there’s nothing else I can…blow your way for comfort?”
Garrett caught her wrist as she touched his fly. “Thank you, but no.”
The woman pulled her hand back with demure grace. “Let me know if you have a change of heart, soldier.” She sashayed away, leaving Garrett to await the inevitable snort from Z.
Half a second later, the guy delivered on the expectation. “Okay, asshat, I’m officially out of rounds to fire at your gray matter. I learned how to add up people before I could add two and two, but right now I’m tossing in the towel on making sense of you.”
“Never recalled asking for it.” He chugged half the beer while staring at his boot, crossed against his opposite knee. He hoped Z would leave it at that. No such luck.
“All right. You indulge me for a second, because I need to get this shit straight. The woman who’s been fueling your wet dreams for the last year has now pulled the miracle move of the century and come back from the dead. You were finally alone with her, the perfect chance to get some true-to-life action for those sorry nuts of yours, yet you’re here, getting your shitface on with a bastard like me?”
His friend’s words did nothing for the muckball in his gut. Like I don’t know all that already? Like I don’t know what a feast Freud would have with my psyche right now? They’re called demons, my friend, and I need to purge them…
Outwardly, he scowled at his beer label. “It’s complicated.”
“Shit howdy, Corncob Bob, ya think so?”
Garrett slammed his foot down. “Look, dickwad, this is partly your fault.”
Zeke’s posture shot straight up. “What the hell? My fault?”
“If you hadn’t dragged my ass to Subjugate that night and—”
Fuck. His mouth had sprinted ahead of his brain. He realized it the same second Zeke did. His friend’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.
“Okay.” Z drew each syllable out with knowing emphasis. “Now we’re getting somewhere. So this is about that Dominant streak you keep denying, huh?”
The stomach sludge roiled with new fury, forcing him to his feet. He grabbed his bottle as he went, hurling it into the trash behind the bar, filling the little room with the crash of shattering glass. “I don’t have a fucking ‘Dominant’ side.”
“Yeah,” Zeke muttered, “and I’m the Prince of Persia.”
Garrett thought of flipping him off, but the urge got back-burnered. He prayed like hell that the booze would help relax the neurons between his ears long enough to figure out this crap for good. Or maybe he needed to stop being so nice. Sit the demons down for a fight instead of a friendly chitchat. Guys like Zeke were comfortable with their demons. And guys like Zeke were also raised on Big Macs, Linkin Park, and fist fighting in the park.
He’d been raised on corn mazes, Kenny Chesney, and Sunday School.
Which meant he needed to dynamite this shit back to the darkness it came from—and no way in hell was Sage getting anywhere near the blast zone.
Jesus loves me…
One beer. Another.
Vodka straight up. Then another.
This I know…
Then, plunking down the Benjamin, ordered the waitress to leave the whole damn bottle.
Zeke’s questioning glare started wavering in his vision. He grinned back, welcoming the engulfing, numbing fog. Soon now. The demons would come…and they’d have their nice little chat…
But only one demon arrived.
And damn it if irony didn’t deserve a fist bump for the delivery.
The fantasy blazed to life in his head…
He moaned, letting it all the way in.
* * *
Sage looked more gorgeous than he ever remembered, outfitted in a slinky gold gown that accentuated every incredible inch of her body as she led him up the spiral staircase to the “exclusive” rooms on the lounge’s top floor. He followed her down a hall with purple velvet wallpaper softly lit by frosted glass sconces. All the doors were closed. He couldn’t hear a sound, except some tinny opera singer pounding out Amazing Grace. Well, it was a step up from Sunday School, he supposed.
Finally, she stopped. Pushed open a door, smiling serenely. She motioned him into the room like a gameshow model showing off a new car. Garrett dipped his head, hoping he looked a gentleman despite feeling everything but, before stepping through.
Before she shut the door with a quiet click, his dick surged in heightened agony.
There was a four-poster bed…and she was kneeling in the middle of it. The golden gown was gone. She was gloriously nude…and blindfolded. Her hands rested against green satin sheets. Fuck, the sheets were a great touch. The color nearly matched her magical, beautiful eyes…
His cock jumped again, and he grunted from the pressure. She reacted with a little shiver. Again, so damn perfect. He approached the bed, stirring the shadows thrown by candles positioned on shelves around the room. The only other light in the chamber came from two small gooseneck lamps. One was aimed right at her. The other was bent toward a small table loaded with sinful sexual discipline toys.
He watched her pretty white teeth sneak out and bite her lower lip. “Oh, yeah,” he rasped, stepping closer.
* * *
“Garrett? Garrett!”
“Mmmmpph.” He dragged his eyes open. Sort of. He glared at the meaty hand on his bicep and then up into Z’s carved face. Before his friend could react and yank the bottle away, he grabbed it closer, swigging hard.
“Holy fuck. You really want to land in medical for alcohol poisoning?”
“Shut up.” He grabbed the bottle’s neck, upending all the cute grey geese, dousing himself in the last two inches of vodka in the process. Well, that was one way of ensuring he got the last shot.
“Jesus,” Z muttered.
“Loves you,” he grumbled back. “Now lee…mah…alone.”
He closed his eyes. Sucked in a rough breath. Fell fully into the fantasy of his drunk, delirious psyche. Into the golden, gorgeous nudity…of her…
* * *
He tugged off his boots and shucked his shirt. Sage surrendered to another shiver. Her areolas tightened and darkened around her pinpointed nipples. Beneath those erect peaks, her lungs hitched on uneven breaths.
Her nervousness clutched at deep, primal places inside him. It drew him to crawl onto the mattress and then kneel in front of her. He stroked her soft, quivering mouth with the pads of his fingers. As if knowing what he needed, she parted her lips and raised her face.
“Tell me you want this,” he murmured. “All of it. You know what I want to do here…what we’re going to do.”
A sweet, sensual
sigh escaped her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, Sir…I want this.”
He descended his fingers to the place where her jaw joined her throat. “You’re certain? You know exactly what I want? You’ll surrender to me. Your body will be mine. Every move you make, every drop of your arousal, every sigh and scream you give, will be mine to call and command.”
He felt a whimper vibrate in her larynx. She nodded softly but said nothing.
“Speak it,” he dictated. “Tell me again.”
“Yes.” The word was barely a breath. “Yes…please…yes.”
A responding groan thundered through him. He dipped his head, devouring her mouth in a deep kiss. He rolled their tongues and meshed their breaths while she tunneled both hands to his neck and scratched dual tracks down to his collarbone. The pain was perfect. If she needed this half as bad as he, his control would be an easier burden to bear.
He forced her wrists to the small of her back and held them there. The motion flattened their bodies to each other. His beautiful girl moaned, opening her mouth wider for him.
Hell. Fucking. Yes.
When the kiss ended, he tugged his eyes open. He gazed at her bruised lips, the supplicating tilt of her face, the ripples of fear in her forehead as she wondered what he’d do next. Garrett raised his free hand to trace the edge of her blindfold with his fingers.
“Your safe word is ‘truth.’” He issued the order in a coarse rasp. “Repeat it to me.”
She lifted her mouth in a smile. She looked like a little girl about to get a trip to the candy store—except that she was naked, blindfolded, and about to be helplessly bound beneath him.
“Truth.” She rendered the compliance with breathy ease.
He rewarded her with another long, wet kiss. During it, he released her hands and shifted his own to her breasts. He cupped the taut swells, rejoicing as her nipples went hard against his fingers. “I’ve missed these.” He dragged his thumbnails across the erect tips. “Have they missed me, too?”
“Yes.”
He answered her whisper with a pleased growl. “Very nice, sugar. Now give it up a little louder.”
He underlined the command by twisting both her hard peaks. She arched against him, her head jackknifing back. “Ohhhh! Mmmm, yes!”
“Good girl,” Garrett murmured. “That’s my good, gorgeous girl.” He stroked her reddened nipples, easing her pain, adoring her more for her obedience. She leaned toward him, seeking him out with her hands, which shook in her blind quest for connection to him.
When her fingers hit the ridges of his abdomen, she gasped. Her pleasure doubled his, but the craving took over again, the demand his system issued for complete power over hers. With a grunt, he grabbed her hand and then formed her fingers tight around the throbbing ridge in his khakis.
“If you want to touch me, fine—but you touch what I tell you to. Right now, that means my cock. Stroke it like you want it, sugar.”
“Yes.” The word was merely a breath. She groped his sack and pulled his khakis tight around his stalk. He could only take the torment for about thirty seconds before unzipping and bursting free into her eager fingers.
“Fuck.” The word spilled out as she grazed his balls with her nails. Again, as she stroked up his length, applying perfect pressure. His head fell back. “Holy fuck. Where’d you learn to do that?”
Sage purred softly against his chest as she rounded the hot bulb of his cockhead, her fingers teasing, squeezing, caressing. “You’re so beautiful, Sir.”
His senses careened. Wait. Why did she sound so different? So…distant?
“I love touching you like this. Serving you. I’ve missed this cock so much. I need it. Order me to suck it. Please, Garrett…”
Whispers now. Her voice and her touch.
No. No.
He groaned and then flailed, searching for her. Words erupted from him, primal snarls now, fighting to keep the fantasy alive.
“Quiet, damn it.” He pushed her hands back, thrusting her breasts back up at him. He fiercely suckled them both, committing their succulent taste to the wild fog of his memory. Why couldn’t he remember anything? “You speak only when I ask for it, sugar. Is that understood?”
Her head dropped. “I am sorry, Sir.”
While she spoke the contrition, he left the bed in order to kick off his pants. “Don’t be sorry with your words. Be sorry with your body.” As he pivoted and considered the rack of toys, he instructed, “We’ve discussed the rules, haven’t we? You’re mine tonight. Completely. You belong only to me, and you will obey me, Sage.”
Her breath audibly snagged. “Y-Yes, Sir.”
“Now, you’ll lie down for your punishment like a good girl. Your lesson is going to be five swats on your spread pussy. My discipline will continue when I fuck the rest of your lesson into you.”
Her breath caught again, though she said nothing else. With measured movements, she moved into place. The sound of her limbs sliding against the sheets, eager and acquiescent, made his cock swell more. The damn thing was at a parallel angle to the floor. He tried his best to ignore the torment while he considered the choices on the rack but gave up the effort when his gaze settled on a riding crop that had a custom feature. The leather tongue at the end of the rod had been slit and inset with a handful of longer leather strips, turning the instrument into a mini flogger too. With a swift flick, he tested the toy on his thigh. The swatter delivered a good sting, though the sensation came in two waves, drawing out the heat of the impact. Interesting—and intoxicating. He’d make her scream and squirm.
“Perfect,” he murmured, turning back to the bed—and the dream of a woman who lay there. With her golden hair spread against the satin and her body bare except for the blindfold, she was an image of trembling readiness. He was ready, too. No turning back. He would claim her. Consume her. Conquer her. And when he was done, he’d never go through the agony of letting her go again.
With that resolve, he paced to the side of the bed. Attached to a leather tether was one of the padded wrist cuffs he’d requested. With rapid flicks, he opened the buckle.
“Arm.” He said it with steady calm, knowing the directive would be heeded. Sure enough, though goose bumps sprouted on her skin, she extended her wrist for the bondage.
After he cinched her other wrist, he moved to the end of the bed. When he clutched one of her ankles and dragged it out toward its own cuff, she broke into a whimper. He went still.
“Problem, sugar?”
Her throat undulated. “No, Sir.” Her murmur carried an edge of fear, though he looked at her nipples turn darker and tighter. Telltale dew drops appeared on the well-trimmed mound between her legs. Two streams of such different intent, flowing through her body. So mesmerizing. So fascinating. And arousing as hell. Nevertheless, he didn’t move his hand from its firm grip around her ankle.
“Do you still trust me, beautiful?”
“Y-Yes, Sir.”
“You know we have to do this.” His tone was gentle but his hold commanding as he fastened her ankle inside its cuff. “You know what I need to do here.” The clink of the second buckle coincided with another rush of shimmering cream to her pouting pussy lips. “You know this is necessary. I can’t fuck you if I can’t keep you safe. If I don’t know you won’t disappear again. If I’m not sure—”
You won’t die again.
He banished the terror with a determined grunt. She wasn’t going to die. She was here, buckled down for him, so wet and ready for him. Yes. Yes.
As he ran his hand up her thigh, he confirmed it. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you, Sage?”
She wriggled again and moaned. “Oh please…yes!”
Her mouth stayed parted after that, pulling in deep gulps to fill her chest, pumping in frenetic proof of her mounting need. Her fingers pulled at the leather tethers above the wrist restraints. Her legs shook as she tested the limits of the ankle cuffs. Her hips flexed and her ass bunched, joining in an effort to thrust her sex hi
gher to him. Fuck, she was beautiful. A mixture of such striking textures. While her muscles flexed in taut frustration, the tender petals of her core bade him closer…closer still…
He mounted the bed, into the V between her legs. He rose high on his knees, using the vantage point to drag his stare over every inch of her again. Wherever his gaze touched, he let the crop follow. It wasn’t long before he dragged the leather fronds over the erect ridge of flesh nestled in the center of her sex. She gasped and threw back her head as he swiped her pussy again. More goose bumps dotted her thighs and arms.
“Now,” he stated, “I want you to tell me how much you want me again—and how you’ll gladly pay the price for my cock.”
Her entire frame succumbed to another shiver. But she wet her lips and stammered, “Yes, Sir. I do want your hard cock. And I will pay the price for it.”
“Good girl.” He gave her the praise just before whapping her rosy folds. She yelped from the spank but bit it short the next second, her chin set with the resignation that more were to follow.
“Again.” He slid the crop along the inside of her left thigh. “Say it again.”
“I want you, Sir.”
“Perfect.” He brought the flogger down on her mound more gently the second time, making her twist her hips with breathtaking abandon. “You have three more swats to go, sugar. After I give each one, I want you to tell me exactly what you want.”
He flung the flogger down again.
“Ohhh! Y-Yes! Please, Sir. I want your cock.”
Thwack.
“You want what?”
“You! Your cock!”
Thwack.
“Ooohhhh!”
Garrett didn’t let her come down from the adrenaline. He landed the fifth strike in the middle of her sob, yanking her cry into a scream and coaxing new juices all over her reddened, sensitive blossom. To make the sight more incredible, the insides of her thighs quivered, shimmering with her aroused perspiration.
Holy hell. She was spectacular. His cock reared. He couldn’t wait to detonate with her. His body already felt like a state fair fireworks finale. For the first time since he was a teenager, he didn’t know if he could contain his orgasm long enough to get inside her. On a ragged breath, he grinded his jaw. He had to make it.