I Will Not Beg

by Cherise Sinclair

  Dix’s smile was smug. “Admit you’re screwed, lie back, and enjoy it.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  The buzzer for the building’s front door sounded.

  Piper trotted to the wall and pushed the intercom button. “Yes?”

  “It’s Lindsey.”

  “It’s about time you got here,” Dixon yelled from the couch.

  Rolling her eyes at him, Piper pushed the door release button. “Door’s unlocked. Come on up.” Leaving the apartment door halfway open, she took her place back on the couch.

  Dixon pointed to the door. “Stan would say that’s really unsafe.”

  “Sure, it is.” Piper squirmed into a comfortable slouch. “But this lazy woman has no intention of jumping up and down to let people in or to—”

  Heavy footsteps came down the hallway. Too heavy for Lindsey. Piper tensed. Maybe Dix was right about safety.

  “Is your boy home?” The man’s voice drifting in from the hall was vaguely familiar.

  “I don’t know.” That was Stan. “I don’t keep him on a leash, you know.”

  “Probably should. Or, better yet, cut the leash.”

  Piper scowled. It was the pushy guy named Darrell.

  Dixon pushed himself upright on the couch.

  As Darrell continued to talk, Piper realized the two were standing outside Stan and Dixon’s apartment across the hall.

  “Christ almighty, JS, you can do so much better. Even if it isn’t me, at least get someone with a few brains. Someone educated who can keep up with you. Who pulls his own weight in the relationship. You’re probably paying for everything, aren’t you? It’s not like his third-rate job could pay much.”

  “It’s not—” The sound of a door closing cut off Stan’s reply.

  Dix’s face was white, his shoulders hunched.

  Piper slid closer. “Darrell is a jerk. I’m sure Stan is telling him that right about now.”

  “Dumbass Darrell didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

  The sad slump of Dix’s shoulder sent fury into Piper’s heart.

  “Hey, guys.” Laden with two brown paper sacks, Lindsey kicked the door shut behind her. “We need to celebrate. I just finished jumping through all the reciprocity hoops and I’m now an officially licensed clinical social worker. Xavier’s promoting me.”

  “That’s great, Lindsey.” Piper pushed enthusiasm into her voice. Lindsey had worked long and hard to get her life back in order.

  Lindsey also had a psychologist’s keen eye when it came to people. She eyed Piper, then Dixon. “Hey, Dix, what’s wrong?” Dumping her sacks on the coffee table, she dropped down on his other side and took his hand.

  When he didn’t answer, Piper checked that the door was closed. “He heard that creepazoid Darrell bad-mouthing him to Stan. The two of them are over at Stan and Dix’s place now.”

  “Stan’s place,” Dixon said. “It’s his name on the lease.”

  “You pay half the rent, and that means it’s both of y’all’s place,” Lindsey said indignantly.

  “Not for long.” Dixon tipped his head back, eyes closed. “I don’t think it’ll be for long.”

  He was so miserable that Piper’s heart ached. “But why? Stan adores you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Pulling free, Dixon scrubbed his face with his hands.

  “Oh, Dix.” The bouncy, fun-loving Dixon was only the surface of his personality. Stan and others might call him boy in the same way Doms called female submissives girl, but Dix was a man. A dedicated, caring, deeply emotional man. One who’d better share before he burst.

  Of course, it was up to him if he wanted to talk about his relationship with Stan. She shouldn’t push.

  Yet Dix was totally a social animal. If he was hurting, he’d feel better with friends around.

  Piper glanced at the bags lying on the coffee table. “What kind of world-famous drinks are you making us, Lindsey?”

  Lindsey blinked. “I don’t know about world-famous. Texas famous, maybe?” Her gaze was on Dixon, then she nodded at Piper. Time for slightly inebriated comforting.

  A few hours later, Lindsey muttered to Piper, “I hope you realize that alcohol isn’t an approved counseling substance.”

  “Ah, well, it’s good to be flexible about these matters.” Piper glanced at the half empty pitcher.

  How many times had Lindsey refilled it? Enough that Piper’s tiny blender had burned-out while chomping up ice cubes. Since Dixon had a high-powered blender, they’d checked to be sure Stan and the jerk had left, and moved the party across the hall.

  The seriously blitzed Dixon was closer to his bed this way.

  It was nice that his place was as comfortable as hers, even while being a guys’ haven. Stan’s Texas roots showed in the décor, from the brass tack and brown leather furniture, the reclaimed barn wood coffee and end tables, to the red-and-black western rug on the hardwood floor. A California boy, Dixon had added quirkiness and color—dark red bookcases, stark black-and-white abstract tree prints, and black metal-and-glass pendant lights.

  “I like alcohol,” Dixon stated emphatically and lifted his glass. “Although I shouldn’t drink. Makes me run off at the mouth. Like oral diarrhea, right?”

  Piper rolled her eyes. Then again, if he was offering up medical jokes, maybe he’d also feel like sharing.

  “Darrell sure seems like a jerk,” she said, leaving the observation hanging in the air. It was something Ethan did. Make a statement and let silence prod her into answering. Even when she recognized his technique, it still worked.

  “Dickless Darrell is a jerk,” Dixon muttered. “No, not really.”

  Lindsey tilted her head. “Both? What makes him a jerk and not a jerk?”

  “He’s a jerk because he says I’m not good enough for Stan.” Dixon swirled his drink, and wasn’t it impressive that he’d only slurred his words a little? “But not a jerk cuz he’s right.”

  “He is not right.” Piper had known that was what Dix believed. If Darrell had been within reach, she’d have punched him. “How could anyone say you’re not good enough? Stan loves you.”

  Dix stared into the depths of his drink. “Love only takes you so far. Gotta have more than that.”

  “You and Stan share a lot of traits.” Lindsey held up her fingers as she listed them off. “You have the same work ethic, same morals, same sense of duty.”

  “Not the same background—his family has lots and lots of land and money. I’m a street-rat.” Dixon slumped. “He’s got his masters. Me? Crickets. Even getting my associate’s degree was tough.”

  That didn’t make sense; Dixon was incredibly smart. “What made school tough?”

  “God, it was boring. Sitting still, hour after hour. Numbers and books and tedious homework.”

  Piper got it. She hadn’t found college easy, either, especially in subjects she didn’t enjoy. She and Dixon were a lot alike.

  “Oh, li’l dogie, you do have way too much energy to sit still for long, especially with books,” Lindsey agreed. “You’re a total extrovert.”

  Dixon tossed back the rest of his drink.

  Uh-oh. He’d had more than she’d ever seen him drink. Piper moved the pitcher out of reach. “Stan doesn’t listen to the jerk, does he?”

  “He probably hears deadshit Darrell bleating about me all day long. They’re working a case together.” Dixon’s face held such misery that Piper pulled him into her arms.

  “It’ll work out; I know it will,” she whispered.

  “You may not have the book learning, but you have other skills that Stan doesn’t.” Lindsey stopped as the door opened.

  Stan—alone, thank you God—stood in the doorway. Exhaustion pulled at his shoulders, and harsh lines were carved into his face. His brows drew together as he took them in. “A party?” His Texas drawl was even thicker than Lindsey’s. “Here? Now?”

  His tone was so unwelcoming that Piper was on her feet before she knew it. “Sorry
, Stan. It’s later than we realized.” And it was. Well past midnight on a weeknight. Guiltily, she grabbed up the glasses and pitcher and saw Lindsey sweep the debris into the empty grocery bag. “We’re out of here.”

  Dixon didn’t speak. Just stared at Stan, heart in his eyes.

  “Christ, it’s like coming home and stepping on a litter of puppies,” Stan said under his breath. He rubbed his neck. “Sorry, ladies.”

  As Piper stepped past him, his gaze landed on Dixon. His mouth tightened. “You’re blasted, boy. You wouldn’t have a drink with me and Darrell, but you’re all too happy to get shit-faced with your friends?”

  Lindsey shot Piper an alarmed look.

  Oh, God. “He didn’t have much choice,” Piper said hastily. “We—”

  “Opened his mouth and poured the drinks in. Sure.” Stan shook his head. “Get on home with you now. I’ll put him to bed.”

  Because that’s what he really wanted to do after working for—what, eighteen or so hours?

  Piper saw from the set of his expression, there was nothing she could do.

  She’d really messed this up.

  Chapter Twenty

  Hand low on Piper’s back, Ethan walked with Piper down the sidewalk toward Dark Haven. He’d missed her last night and was looking forward to the evening.

  As they neared the club, he felt her hesitate. It took him a second to realize why she’d gone tense. This section of the sidewalk was where he’d bloodied her stepbrother and then threatened her with the police. “Piper.”

  When she looked up, he kissed her gently. “I’m sorry I overreacted when I met Jerry and gave you such ugly memories.”

  Her smile was rueful. “When it comes down to it, I’m the reason Jerry was here. And then you ended up swamped with your own bad memories.”

  Yes, he really did love this soft-hearted, forgiving woman.

  He kissed her again, this time, long and deep. If there were going to be memories from this spot, he’d ensure the good ones wiped out the bad.

  As he stepped back, he saw her dreamy expression from the kiss change to one of sadness. “You’re frowning again, pet.”

  “Just remembering. When we talked that night, you said you’d left everything behind once. But”—she shook her head—“you didn’t do anything wrong. You even saved a woman’s life. Why did you leave?”

  “Ah, well. What happened with Nicola—her background, the violence—was quite scandalous, especially for my conservative father and our conservative companies. Then my involvement in the lifestyle made the papers.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Exactly. Eventually, I simply left. Xavier and I had stayed in touch after boarding school. He convinced me to choose San Francisco and start a business here.”

  Her dark eyes held sadness. For him. “You lost…everything?”

  He nodded. His home, the city he’d loved. People he’d known all his life. Bloody hell but it had hurt. “My father and I eventually reconciled. I’ll admit leaving behind my friends was painful.”

  She hugged him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not. I found a new city and new friends. A lover, as well.” Holding her firmly, he kissed his way down her neck and nipped the curve of her shoulder several times, so when he guided her into Dark Haven, she was giggling.

  “Piper, Sir Ethan.” Behind the desk, Lindsey beamed at them.

  Piper grinned back. “Hey, how do you feel?”

  “Like I got drunk as a skunk. Thanks for letting me crash on your couch.”

  Piper made a fuffing sound. “As if I’d let you drive with that many margaritas in your system.”

  She’d be just as protective with children, too, wouldn’t she? The thought warmed his heart, and Ethan tucked her closer.

  “Have you talked with Dixon?” The worry in Lindsey’s voice was concerning.

  “No, he’s on the ambulance today. I left him a voicemail.” Piper frowned. “Isn’t he here?”

  “Uh-uh. That’s why I’m stuck on the desk.” Lindsey took their ID cards, scanned them, and handed them back. “Stan’s working another late night, and Dixon said he wasn’t up to coming in. Xavier was displeased.”

  “Oh damn.” Piper made an unhappy sound. “And here I thought the myths about unlucky Friday, the 13th were over-rated.”

  Ethan tugged a strand of Piper’s hair. “What’s going on with Dixon?”

  “He’s…” She shook her head. “Nothing I can share. Sorry, Sir.”

  Loyalty and discretion. Both frustrating and admirable. “I understand.”

  After they hung their coats in the reception room, Piper tucked her tiny purse and phone into the outer pocket of his toy bag.

  Dressed in his usual black turtleneck and pants, Ethan smiled at the little submissive beside him. She’d been comfortable enough to wear less clothing this time. A dark red corset, short black miniskirt, fishnet stockings, and strappy sandals. He’d planned a Shibari scene, but she looked so enticing he was tempted to find a theme room and enjoy a fast bout of sex.

  No. He wanted the intense connection that rope bondage could impart, the unspoken dialogue between top and bottom…and once she was bound, depending on her headspace, he’d indulge in some erotic edging.

  Then, maybe he’d find a theme room…

  With her small hand in his, Ethan escorted her across the main floor, answering various greetings.

  Piper spotted Abby across the room. “May I, Sir?”

  Her growing ease with being away from his side pleased him. Brave girl. “Yes. Return to me within ten minutes, please.”

  He took a seat at a table, visited with friends, and enjoyed the oddity of a dance floor filled with giggling littles bouncing around to the Hokey-Pokey. On the raised stage to the right, a Mistress was caning an errant schoolboy.

  Piper returned from visiting with Abby, her eyes dancing with laughter. She motioned to the black and silver watch he wore. “I have ten seconds to spare, Sir.”

  He did love seeing her spirit unfettered by fears. “So you do. Are you ready to go downstairs?”

  “Ah…” Her eyes widened. “Are we doing something tonight?”

  “We are.” He ran his finger over her jawline. “I enjoyed tying you up at the camp; you enjoyed it as well. I want to do something more elaborate and thought you’d prefer to play here where someone will rescue you, if needed.”

  She took a slow breath, her muscles relaxed, and then her dimples appeared. “You’re pushing me and dealing with my worries at the same time. That’s pretty sneaky, Sir Ethan.”

  He tried not to smile. “Such an accusation.”

  Even as he spoke, his hands were anticipating being on her, wrapping her in his ropes, enjoying the fragrance of her lotion-scented skin, her heady arousal. Watching her thoughts and emotions slow as the embrace of the ropes took her under. “Is that a yes? I need more from you than a nod, poppet.”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “I-I’d like to try the Shibari again.”

  “I’ll turn you into a rope bottom yet.” Taking her hand, he picked up his toy bag and led her down into the dungeon.

  * * *

  This time, Piper felt far less anxiety in the dungeon. In all of Dark Haven, actually. Wasn’t it awesome how familiarity was lessening her fears?

  Sir Ethan’s hand was warm around hers as he pulled her to a stop near the steel spider web. The bottom tied to the “webbing” was blindfolded, had a huge erection, and panted as his Top whipped a dragon’s tail across his chest.

  Moans in different octaves came from nearby bondage tables. Wax play was happening on one. A violet wand on another.

  As they continued across the room, a woman screamed, high and shrill, and kept screaming. A man yelled, “Help! I need help!”

  Piper spun. Suspended beneath the blimp, a panicking rope bunny struggled frantically.

  Sir Ethan took a step in that direction, stopped, and looked down at her.

  Her heart turned over. He’d considered her need
s, even though he wanted to go help that woman. My Dom.

  She let go of his hand and nodded toward the scene. “Go. I’m good.”

  He touched her cheek and was gone, moving so quickly everyone else seemed stuck in concrete.

  Piper crossed the room at a slower pace, watching as the Top and others tried to get past the bunny’s flailing extremities to cut the ropes. The woman's terrified shrieks set up a quiver in Piper’s belly. She’d screamed like that…once.

  She went past a flogging scene. A spanking bench. A sitting area where Doms lounged in the chairs, slaves at their feet.

  One naked blonde slave was kneeling by an empty chair. Her pale skin was marred with red welts and purple bruises. She looked familiar. Had they met at the kink camp?

  No. Piper’s eyes widened. That was the Defiler’s second slave—slavegem.

  “Hello, worthless.”

  Her lungs stopped expanding; her heart stopped beating.

  A man’s hand closed painfully around her wrist. “I knew I wouldn’t misplace my property forever.”

  Stabbing terror stole her breath, her voice, even her screams.

  “Jerry told me where you were. I’m angry I had to fly here from Kansas to retrieve you.” His annoyance chilled his voice. The grip on her wrist didn’t loosen. “Slavegem, get this collar off of her. It has the wrong name on it.”

  His voice dropped. “Doesn’t it, worthless?”

  She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel anything. Darkness flickered in her vision, growing rapidly. She tried to stiffen her legs. If she fell, he’d have her.

  He was talking to someone. “… mine. I have a signed contract that makes her my property. She signed it free and clear. She’s my slave.”

  The pain of his brutal grip broke through the paralysis. She wrenched back and forth, trying to pull away.

  At her neck, slavegem’s cold hands were unbuckling Sir Ethan’s collar. It dropped onto the floor.

  Nooo. The loss of it stabbed into her heart.

  “She’s mine. Any Master here will uphold my claim to a slave who signed herself completely over to me.” Serna’s words sounded reasonable. Persuasive. That same forceful voice had convinced her to become his.