Now, as they sat together eating breakfast, Prue was struck by the normalcy of the situation. When she went back in her mind over her brief acquaintance with Cyrus, she realized that more often than not they’d spent their time together doing really wicked things, and she found herself loving this part of their time together. Her heart seized as she watched Cyrus top up her coffee before refilling his own, and she admitted to herself for the first time that she might be in trouble here. She knew that a lot of D/s relationships involved an incredibly strong bond, and she’d thought that because the course she was taking would only last a couple of weeks, she’d be able to avoid developing feelings for her Dom. After all, she’d had two Doms before Cyrus, and she barely thought about them, and when she did it was never with anything other than a faint fondness. Now, with Cyrus, Prue found her gut clenched when she thought about leaving Cuero, and she realized how hard she was hoping that Cyrus wasn’t involved with anything illegal happening at his club. She knew the odds of that were slim. As the owner he’d pretty much have to know, unless someone was pulling a hell of a con, and she was shocked as she realized how badly she wanted him to be innocent.
She snapped herself out of her reverie. She still had a ton of investigating to do, not to mention dance classes to teach and a course to take. Who knew what would turn up in the meantime?
Chapter 18
“Why did you become a dancer?” Prue bit her lip, wondering if she’d pushed Cyrus too far. They’d spent the afternoon lounging by his pool, and gradually they’d started talking.
Cyrus snorted. “Aren’t you really asking why I became a stripper?” He lay on his back on the oversized chaise longue, tracing patterns on Prue’s bare skin.
Prue stretched beside him, stacking her hands on his chest and propping her chin on them. She’d spent the whole day naked with Cyrus’s hands on her. I could get used to this. She didn’t like his response though, and frowned at him.
“No, I asked why you became a dancer. I’ll ask you about the stripping later.” She dropped a small kiss on his chest to soothe him in case she’d been too forward.
Cyrus sighed, tucking both hands behind his head. “The two kind of go together.” He looked at Prue, his eyes grave. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s not a pretty story, and it doesn’t exactly have a happy ending.”
Prue could hear the underlying intent behind the words. She suspected he didn’t tell many people this story, and he was trying to frighten her off. She smiled grimly at him. “I’ll trade you. One not-pretty story for another not-pretty story. Mine is all about how I got my name.”
Cyrus looked at her, clearly curious. “Okay, I’ll bite.” He sighed again, his eyes far away. “I was born in Minnesota, or so I’m told. I don’t really remember anything until I went to school.”
* * * *
Cyrus felt the words slipping out one after the other, and he marveled at how easily they came. Usually when someone asked about his past he brushed them off or intimidated them into leaving it alone, and when he was forced to talk about it he always found it difficult to get the words out. Totally not the case with Prue. With her the words came easily, and although he mocked himself for a masochist, knowing she’d likely hear his story and walk away, he found he wanted to tell her anyway.
“I don’t know anything about my parents. When I was young, no one told me about them, and when I was old enough to ask, I didn’t want to know. I went into the first foster home I remember the same year I started first grade.” He smiled grimly. “There was another foster kid there. He was bigger, older, and a hell of a lot meaner than I was.”
Cyrus paused as Prue reached up and took his hand, brushing her lips across his knuckles before squeezing his hand. She let both their hands come to rest on his chest, their fingers still twined together. Cyrus studied the way their fingers fit as he continued.
“You can guess what happened. I was black and blue all the time, but at first it was under my clothes where no one could see. Then I started growing and gave as good as I got, and I wound up with bruises everywhere. One year, at the beginning of sixth grade, when I started school, it didn’t take the teacher long to call Children’s Aid. They came and got me and put me in a different foster home, but by then I was the bigger, meaner one.”
Prue’s hand convulsed, and Cyrus looked at her, expecting to see censure in her eyes. He was calm about it. He’d forgiven himself long ago for his past, knowing it had made him who he was today. He saw the anger in Prue’s eyes and made to extricate his hand from hers, but she surprised him by squeezing it even tighter.
“I hope you beat the hell out of that kid, Cy.” Her tone was fierce, and Cyrus was shocked that the anger wasn’t directed at him. It was on his behalf.
He kissed her hand and squeezed back. “I did my best.” Cyrus felt his gaze drift again, looking behind him. “I looked him up years later. He wound up in jail, died in there after he overdosed on some kind of prison meth.” Cyrus sighed and continued his story.
“By the time I was seventeen, I’d been kicked out of every foster home I’d been in, been to juvie, and wound up in a group home. I got kicked out of there for fighting, and you know why I was mad about it?”
Prue shook her head at him, her beautiful eyes wide.
Cyrus smiled, a small smile that represented the only bit of good in his teenage world. “I met Lulu in that group home.”
Cyrus watched as Prue’s mouth fell open in shock. She hadn’t seen that coming.
“I was pissed because some asshole forced Lulu into a closet. He’d gagged her and was in the process of ripping her clothes off when I opened the door, so I beat the shit out of him. And then he went and ratted me out, and even though they believed my story, they threw me out anyway. A track record like mine meant I was out of strikes.”
Prue’s eyes were blazing again. Cyrus was touched to see his sweet little sub had the heart of a warrior.
“I wound up on the streets. Had my eighteenth birthday there. Lulu used to sneak me food when she could.” Cyrus smiled, warming to his story. This was really the good part.
“One night Lulu came and found me at a homeless shelter. She brought me a pamphlet advertising an amateur night at a local strip club, told me there was a thousand dollar pot for the winner.” Cyrus snorted. “A thousand dollars seemed like enough to buy the world back then, the position I was in.” Cyrus shook his head. “She convinced me to enter. Brought me clothes she stole from one of the kids in the group home, told me to start practicing.”
Cyrus grinned at Prue as she would have spoken, laying a finger on her lips to stop her. This was his story, and she could ask questions afterward. “You have any idea how fucking crazy I looked? Homeless kid dancing all over the streets to the music in his head?” Cyrus shook his head. “Lucky I wasn’t sent to the nuthouse.
“So I go to this amateur night.” He was really into the story now, reliving it as he spoke. “I watched all these cougars in front of the stage, and I’ve never been more scared in my life.” He shook his head again. “I got into a fight once a week, survived juvie, and lived on the streets, and I was more scared of the Minnesota soccer moms all dolled up at a strip club than anything else I’ve lived.” Cyrus looked sharply at Prue. He was pretty sure she’d just smothered a laugh. He grinned at her.
“So I get up there, scared the moms are going to touch me, and I start dancing. I didn’t even know if I could dance, or if I was just some skinny white dude shaking my ass, looking like I was having a seizure. And then they started cheering.”
“Cheering but not touching?” Prue had her hand over her mouth. Clearly she’d been unable to help herself from commenting, and the laughter in her eyes got Cyrus going.
“Christ, Prue, they stuck dollars in my G-string,” Cyrus groaned, making Prue laugh out loud. “So there I am, almost naked and dripping dollar bills, and it’s more money than I’ve seen in my life. And then they tell me I won.”
Prue’s eyes were wide with
wonder, and Cyrus thought he must have looked the same way that night. “They gave me the check, invited me back to strip again the next week.” He gritted his teeth. This part still pissed him off. “Then on the way out I met Lulu. She wasn’t old enough to come into the club, so she met me at the door. And the asshole who tried to touch her at the group home had followed her, and he’d brought some friends.”
Cyrus felt Prue’s hand squeeze his hard. He saw the fear in her eyes and was touched that she’d be so concerned, especially since he’d clearly lived to tell the tale.
“They jumped me, took the check and the dollars I’d made. And you know what I was thinking?”
Prue shook her head, her eyes wide. “What?” she whispered.
Cyrus smiled grimly. “All I was thinking was I’d be damned if I’d let them touch Lulu.” He breathed evenly, forcing the tension out of his muscles. He could still feel the fear that they were going to hurt his friend, the closest person he’d had to family.
“I fought hard, but the odds aren’t great when it’s five to one.”
Prue gasped. “Five to one? Holy shit, Cy.” She was whispering, horrified.
Cyrus stroked her back reassuringly. “The odds evened out in a hurry. This guy was just leaving the club, and he saw what happened, and he and a buddy jumped into the fray. The group home asshole and his friends scattered after that. The guy who came out of the club was a scary motherfucker, and so was his pal.”
Prue seemed breathless. “What happened next?”
Cyrus smiled. “That scary motherfucker’s name was Jax Gray, and he was the owner of a BDSM club in New York, in town because he’d heard a friend of his had been working at the strip club and he’d come to get her. He talked to me for five minutes, then put Lulu and I on a plane.”
“Both of you?” Prue couldn’t seem to help asking questions and making comments, and Cyrus gave up on it.
“He recognized a sub when he saw one, and Lulu definitely fits that bill. And he saw the Dom in me. Trained me, hired me, encouraged me to dance, to strip if I wanted. He also made me go to college. He saved my life.”
Prue wrapped her arm around his waist. “I’m so glad you met him.”
Cyrus exhaled slowly, the burden of his early life seeming lighter somehow, now that he’d shared it with Prue. “Me, too. So I stripped my way through college, supplemented the income I made at Jax’s club as a busboy.” Cyrus pinched Prue playfully on the side, recalling she was ticklish and grinning as she squeaked in outrage. “I got used to cougars putting ones in my G-string.”
Prue giggled, rubbing her side. “Should I do that next time you’re on stage here?”
Cyrus got serious in a hurry. “Not on your life. You’ll notice I don’t strip beyond my leathers anymore, and there’s no way in hell you’re putting a dollar bill in my leathers.” Cyrus gritted his teeth as Prue’s eyes flashed, the laughter in them evident. He could tell she was about to say something that would make him crazy.
“Okay, no dollar bills. How about twenties? Would that work for you since you’ve moved up in the world?”
Cyrus was gratified that she screamed as he lifted her up, clinging to his neck.
“Cyrus, put me down! What are you…no! Stop!” Prue struggled frantically but Cyrus held firm.
“Twenties? I think not. I’ll hold out for hundreds, pet.” Cyrus made his tone lofty, making Prue shriek with laughter right before he jumped into the pool with her still in his arms.
When they surfaced, Prue wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging like a limpet. “Thank you for telling me. Do you want to hear my story now?” She rubbed her cheek against his, the sweetness of the gesture charming him.
He hugged her. “Tell me later. That’s enough heavy stuff for one night, and I’m hungry. Feel like making us dinner, or should we go to the club?”
Prue rolled her eyes. “I guess it’s true what they say about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach.”
She struggled to get down, and Cyrus let her, watching her perky ass as she sloshed up the stairs and wrapped herself in a towel. He felt a slight chill as her words struck him, and he wondered if she was trying to find the way to his heart. He warmed up in the next instant as a realization hit him, equal parts awesome and horrifying. If she was trying to find the way to his heart, she was already most of the way there.
Chapter 19
“Okay, girls, good work!” Prue smiled at the members of her dance class, proud of them for being brave enough to try some pole moves today. She darted a look to the side, kind of surprised that Cyrus had stayed for the whole class.
They’d spent a lazy evening together the night before, eating after Prue had made supper and watching a movie before going to bed. Prue smiled to herself as she thought about the sex they’d had on Cyrus’s couch, how he’d lifted her up and set her down on his cock, then had simply held her in place as she’d come all over him. She kept doing that, and she had no idea how to stop it, so it was a good thing Cyrus indulged her greedy body. He’d taken her hard after that, lifting her and slamming her down. He’d forced her to ride him like that until they both came. They’d made their way upstairs after that, and Cyrus had delivered Prue’s evening maintenance, this time forcing her to stay standing as she bent over to receive her spanking. He’d kissed her so sweetly afterward, tucking her in and cuddling her until she’d fallen asleep, secure in the warmth of his oversized embrace.
This morning had been a little more rushed. They’d woken up when the alarm had sounded, and Cyrus had spanked Prue efficiently before he’d risen, heading for the shower and smiling wickedly at Prue. She’d been looking up at him openmouthed from her position on the bed. She’d expected that he’d give her relief from the arousal he’d ignited when he’d spanked her, and she was horrified to realize he didn’t intend to let her come before they left his house for the day.
Royally pissed, Prue had stalked after him to the shower, determined to make him give her an orgasm. She’d washed herself sensuously, pretending she didn’t even notice Cyrus. She’d run her hands all over her body, working the rich lather over her breasts and bending over to soap her legs, giving Cyrus a view of the rivulets running over her pussy. She’d straightened back up again, gratified to see him sporting an enormous erection. She’d tilted her head back to wash her conditioner out of her hair, assured that any minute he’d be backing her up against a wall and shoving his cock into her cunt. She’d been dismayed in the extreme as she’d opened her eyes and found herself alone in the shower. Cyrus had called to her from the bathroom that she was going to be late, and when she emerged, dripping and furious, the laughter in his eyes told her he’d known all along what she’d been doing.
Now, after an hour of being in Cyrus’s presence as he’d watched her teach dance to the other subs, she was ready to beg him for release. She’d felt his eyes on her as she’d demonstrated moves, and the burn in his baby blues made her pussy clench each time she looked at him.
“Master Cyrus.” The clipped voice drew Prue’s attention to Olenka, who had attended Prue’s dance class again this morning.
“Yes, Lady?” Cyrus’s use of the respectful title sealed the deal for Prue, identifying the Russian once and for all as a Domme. Cyrus wouldn’t use that kind of title on someone he wasn’t positive deserved it.
“You frighten subs in class today. Perhaps you should stay out of studio when your sub is to be teaching.”
Prue sucked in a breath at Olenka’s bluntness. If Prue ever talked to Cyrus like that, she knew she’d be bent over the nearest piece of furniture in a heartbeat, her ass on fire while Cyrus whipped it.
Cyrus merely smiled. “Perhaps it’s your presence that has the subs on edge, Lady. Last time I checked, this was a class for subs only.”
Olenka waved her hand gracefully, dismissing what Cyrus said. “This is only dance class available. If you want me to leave class, you had better to engage Prue to teach dance to Dommes as well.” She smiled at
Prue. At least, Prue thought she was smiling. It was really more of a grimace, and it was a teeny bit scary.
“Why don’t you teach the Dommes?” Cyrus’s tone was mildly curious. “I had no idea you were so talented when it comes to dance, Lady. We could negotiate an addition to your duties if you wish.”
Olenka snorted, even managing to make the derogatory sound seem elegant. “I do not teach. I have not Prue’s patience.”
Cyrus laughed. “Prue’s only patient when it suits her.” He reached out and tickled Prue’s side, making her dribble water down her chin since she was in the middle of taking a sip from her bottle. She glared at him as she mopped her face.
Olenka raised her eyebrows, looking at Prue as if assessing her. “Oh? Then you do not discipline her enough, Cyrus.”
Prue gasped. She looked back and forth from Cyrus to Olenka, not sure what to say. She was gathering her courage to rebuff both of them when Cyrus’s voice cracked around her.
“Find your position, sub. Clothing on.”
Without conscious thought, Prue sank to the floor, setting her bottle down before placing her hands on her thighs. Her hair was already out of the way, rolled into its customary bun, and she simply dropped her gaze while spreading her knees even further and making sure her back was ramrod straight.
Prue's Promises [Submissive Sirens 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 15