by Sam Crescent
She smiled as the memory of last week’s session resurfaced. Jeffrey had been a disaster. He had clearly never practiced parkour before, and being honest, she’d thought he would leave as soon as possible, but the guy stuck out the full practice, which was commendable. What was more, once everyone caught on his newbie status, they began poking good fun at him. He took it in stride, and ended the class with a few new tricks up his sleeve and a big smile—the kind which had Amalia’s pussy weeping.
Amalia had hoped they’d have a chance to talk again later on once all her students left—she was going to give him a big resounding yes by that point—but not only did he leave before she had the chance, Pete’s car didn’t start and she had to drive him home.
Amalia sighed.
“Focus,” she muttered, rolling on the ground, then, getting back up and skipping ahead.
The more she thought of it, the more she decided she’d been a fool. Jeffrey had offered her one night of passion. She was never one to say no to good sex, and she’d only turned him down because he’d been an ass the one time at the club. Her second refusal had come down to her wanting to tease him, but it’d gotten out of hand, and now, here she was, alone, sexless and BDSMless.
“Fuck. I should have said yes.” Amalia stopped, hands on her knees and heavily panting. “Too late now, just concentrate on your exercises. Get the blood going.”
Throwing herself back into her parkour, she attempted to obliterate any thoughts of Jeffrey. After a while, her muscles started to complain. Wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, she paused to find her bag and drink some water. An out of place noise, similar to a crunch of footsteps on dirt, had her whipping around. A man made out of pure brawn, and dressed in black, approached from where she’d come. The hairs on the back of her neck stood and goosebumps sprouted over her flesh. Fear latched onto her throat. Who was he, and what was he doing here? He didn’t seem to have seen her.
Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she took off in the opposite direction. Built the way he was, she seriously doubted he was patrolling the area looking for a friendly chit-chat. Turning a bend, she found herself face to face with two other men.
“Stop,” one of them shouted.
“Shit.”
She spun and ran in the other direction. Stop? No way. Who knew who these guys were, dressed as if they’d come to clear drunkards from a club? She didn’t need to be kicked out. She could leave on her own terms.
Voices echoed around her, calling out for her to stop running. Dogs barked in the distance, and her blood turned cold. What the hell was going on? She had to get out of here fast.
She ran blindly, her heart close to exploding from her chest and pushing her stamina. If she weren’t so afraid of being caught, she’d relish the adrenaline rush. She jumped over benches, bounding through a copse of fruit trees, the sickening smell of rotting fruit permeating the air. She skidded to a stop and had a quick look around. Where was she? She’d never been in this area of the grounds.
Randomly picking a direction, she set off at a run. She’d barely made it a few feet when someone tackled her from behind. She rolled to the floor, struggling against her captor.
“Be still,” he growled, his voice reminding her of a hoarse dog barking. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He twisted her arms behind her back, and she yelped unnecessarily loud. The cool kiss of metal touched her wrists and the resounding click rang in her ears like a bell’s final toll. She took in harsh breaths, fighting off the chattering of her teeth.
“Caught you.” The man’s voice was full of undeniable pride. “Over here,” he shouted. “I caught the bitch.”
Bitch? The insult triggered something within her, and she set her jaw. Little by little, her wits returned. Whoever these men were, they were clearly some kind of security service, and she had rights they needed to respect.
“No reason to be so rude,” she snapped. “And why aren’t you reading me my rights? You’re breaking the law.”
The guy chuckled.
“This is private security,” he said as if that explained everything. “You’ve led us on quite the chase, but they did say the job wouldn’t be easy.”
“The job?”
“Boss said you wouldn’t come willingly, but you didn’t even give us the chance to try. Come on.” The man hauled her to her feet and started dragging her in the direction of the house.
“Doing parkour isn’t illegal,” she said.
“So why’d you run?” A bald guy with a tribal tattooed on his head joined them.
“I didn’t know who you were.”
“I think you knew you were doing something illegal.”
“I’m not—”
“Breaking into a private building is against the law,” the guy who’d handcuffed her said.
“Private? This place has been abandoned for years.”
“Still private. It’s not a park.”
“The Clay family didn’t have any use for it for a while, but they’re remodeling now,” tattooed guy added.
“Really? I don’t see any machinery.”
“It arrives next week.”
“Sure it does.”
They began to climb the main path to the house.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“The owner has asked to see you.”
“What?” The word came out like a shriek.
“He’s considering charges.” Tattoo-guy spoke, his ugly lips forming a smirk.
“For climbing his old walls?” she asked, incredulous.
“For breaking into his property.”
Fearing the worst, Amalia braced herself for impact. Charges? For playing in someone’s abandoned garden? Who did something like that? It was madness. They pushed through the front doors. Her breath caught. She’d never been inside the old building, but what she saw was the last thing she expected. If the outside was abandoned the inside was clearly being worked on. It was full of scaffolding and white sheets covering expensive furniture, but the marble floors were impossible to hide, and so was the impressive chandelier crowning the entrance, its glass drops reflecting the sunlight streaming through mud-caked windows.
“If I had known this was what it was like in here, I might have entered sooner.”
“And stolen something?”
She turned toward the magnetic voice coming from her left. Her breath caught at the sight of the man walking toward them.
“Mr. Clay,” one of the guards said. “We finally caught her.”
Clay?
The man who came to stand in front of them, dressed in a navy-blue suit which matched his eyes, was the poster man for someone comfortable in their skin, who was used to getting his way no matter what.
“Jeffrey,” she gasped. “Jeffrey Clay, as in owner of this property.” Amalia’s mind reeled. No wonder he’d been so upset when he’d found out they were coming here to parkour.
“Caught her by surprise we did,” the guard continued speaking as if she hadn’t said anything. His grip on her arms tightened, and she winced. Clay’s brow knotted. His gaze swept over her, and her body tightened in anticipation. Damn it, this was no time to be susceptible to him.
“Or else she wouldn’t have allowed it. You’re a slippery one, Ms. Garcia.”
Amalia stiffened.
“How do you know my last name?”
Clay’s blue gaze raked over her, and his grin turned predatory. Her traitorous body responded with a wave of panty-wetting arousal, just as it had the night she’d met him at the BDSM club and caught sight of him standing at the back of the room surveilling everyone as if he were the owner. If he’d appeared sooner, she’d have sought him out to play and not Adrian.
“You invade my property and I make sure to find out who you are and if you are a threat to me or my assets.”
Amalia narrowed her gaze. “That’s spying, and it’s illegal.”
“So is breaking and entering,” Clay pointed out.
“I did
n’t enter the building,” she complained.
“Entering the premises is more than enough.”
She huffed. “The damn place is abandoned.”
“Not really. Renovations just ceased for a while.”
“A few years.”
“My grandfather passed away, and there was a disagreement over the property.”
“What does it all have to do with me?” she asked sharply.
“Nothing really. I merely have a proposal for you.”
Chapter Five
It took a moment for Amalia to process his words.
“A proposal?”
He couldn’t be referring to the one night of passion, could he? No one would get someone arrested just for sex.
“If you don’t mind, gentlemen? We need some privacy,” Jeffrey said.
If the guards were surprised, they didn’t show it. One by one, they left the house. Her heart rate spiked, and a shiver ran through her. The muscles in her legs tightened. If she had to run, she would. Handcuffs and all.
“You could have told them to take these off,” she said.
“And have you disappear into the night without so much as a goodbye and good luck?” Clay grinned. “Besides, being tied up suits you, and in case you don’t remember, it was you who said I’d have to arrest you to get my yes,” he drawled. “Specifically, you said, I’d have to put you between a rock and a hard place.” Jeffrey’s gaze danced over her face, then, dipped over her body, liberally taking his fill. Amalia’s nipples hardened under his perusal, and her pussy moistened.
“And you took me at my word?” She frowned at her breathy tone.
“Every single one of them.”
The laugher that burst from her lips was forced, the sound harsh and edgy, denoting her nerves. This had to be the script for a bad movie, and she was being used as a guinea pig. Any moment her friends would come out of hiding and shout “surprise, Jeffrey’s not really crazy”. Gradually, she became silent. Jeffrey was not even smiling. His gaze was intense, the blue depths full of a meaning she could not decipher but which made her skin crawl.
“Did you set this up just to catch me?”
“Absolutely. I don’t play games when it comes to getting what I want,” he said.
“Because no one ever says no to you.”
“Indeed.”
“The answer is no,” she said. “Now, more than ever. You’re insane, and you need to be put in your place.”
This time his lips curved, making something within her jolt with vigor. Damn two-timing body so easily captivated by a pretty smile.
“I haven’t even made my offer,” Clay said.
Amalia shrugged.
“A night of hot sex, a taste of BDSM, whatever. No.”
“It’s a bit more than that, but your situation is not exactly one in which you want to say no, Amalia. You’re in handcuffs, with video footage of you breaking and entering into my house several times. If I decide to press charges—”
“Press charges?”
A cold sweat broke at the nape of her neck. He wasn’t being serious, was he?
“Press charges, yes. I could even go so far as saying you’ve damaged my property, or did you and your friends not rearrange some of the stones in the garden? Has one of my walls not crumbled?”
“They were loose! And the wall was already broken. You were there!”
“Still, not your place to move them around, was it? And who’s to say it was? In any case, if I chose to pursue you legally, you’d either have to pay an astronomical fine, which you’d never be able to afford, or you’d end up in prison.”
“Are you serious? For breaking and entering? I don’t even have a record.”
Clay crossed his arms. “It won’t make a difference. The Clay family never loses a trial.”
Rage slammed against her, robbing her of her wits.
“Asshole,” She spewed. “You can’t do this.”
One of his eyebrows lifted.
“We’ll work on that mouth of yours later. Perhaps a gag will do the trick.”
“You’ll have to get your hands on me first.”
“Your patience also needs some hardcore training, Ms. Garcia.” In two steps, he was looming over her, forcibly making her realize how petite she was at his side. Her pulse rushed in her ears, driving her to seek more. Her pussy clenched, and she scowled at the chemical reaction. Stop it. As if he knew, Clay’s gaze dipped to her lips, the blue in his eyes darkening. “You’ll have to arrest and threaten me. That’s what you said and here we are. Don’t try to deny you’re not enjoying this. I’ve done my homework. I know everything about you. I know the kind of person you are.” His tone dropped, increasing her mindless arousal.
“Really?”
“You’re an adrenaline junkie, always seeking the next thrill. You’ve tried bungee jumping, climbing, parachuting, even attempted BDSM.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Have you been investigating me?”
“From day one. I memorized your license plate and found out everything I needed to know about you the same night.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I tried to do things the traditional way,” he explained. “But your class was full and then Rene appeared. She was a godsend. She wanted to flirt with me, but unwillingly she gave me the key to seeing you again.”
“So you came to my parkour class.”
“Discovered you were consistently breaking into my family’s house and resolved to see you again no matter the cost. If being persistent is being mad, then so be it. Besides, as I said, I think you will find my proposal advantageous to us both.”
Amalia’s gaze narrowed. “How so?”
“One night of passion and in exchange, I’ll fix up the garden which you already practice in illegally to make it into a real parkour area.”
“Which we will be able to use at a price.”
Jeffrey laughed. “Do you think me so callous?”
“Considering the lengths you’ve gone through to get to me, yes.”
“I’d make it free for you.”
“What other option do I have?” she asked.
“Prison or an astronomical fine for breaking and entering a private property.”
“So, you’re extorting me.”
“Take it as you will. But be sincere, Amalia, has all this situation not caused your adrenaline to spike? Has it not made your blood pound like the best parkour course? Or the most exhilarating mountain climb? And what’s more, would you not have said yes the other day if you weren’t so stubborn and bent on making me learn a lesson?”
Amalia sucked in a breath. Yes. The thrill of the chase. Standing before a man who made her blood sing was a rare treat. She’d had one-night stands before, relationships which ended up boring her to tears, but this frantic electricity rushing through her body was new and welcome. Of course, she couldn’t tell him the truth, so she shook her head, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see through her lie.
“I have your needs in mind, Ms. Garcia,” Clay said. “You did not find what you were seeking at the BDSM club. You told me you had not come looking for pain or sex. You wanted endorphins, a wild rush. I want to offer it to you. You went in search of an adrenaline fix, and I’d like to give it to you.”
She barked out a laugh. “You just want to please me? An altruistic act.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “I also want to fuck you.”
She stared at him and he held her gaze. Her hear beat against her ribcage, relentless, screaming at her to make a decision. She looked away.
“You’re irrational.”
“The man you attempted to play with did not know how to handle you.”
“And you think you do?”
“I’ve got you here, and I can tell you’re interested. Your heart is pounding, the pulse on your neck visibly wild. You haven’t called for help, even though, you’re perfectly aware there are guards in the other room. You haven’t backed down from me once since we’ve met, a
nd you haven’t outright refused what I just said. Instead, you’ve repeated it back to me, incredulous, yes, but you doubt whether or not to accept. Not to mention, you’re here, at Clay house. Why did you come back if you knew you had a chance of running into me?”
“This is ridiculous,” she huffed, and shook her head, trying to make the blush she knew was creeping up her cheeks disappear.
“I’d like to peel off your clothes and have you kneel before me. I’d like to have you at my mercy, waiting, expecting. Heart beating erratically as you wonder what exactly I will do to you.” The pad of his index finger was a feather light touch against her jaw, bringing goosebumps to her flesh. “Will I tie you to a Saint Andrew’s Cross, use a flogger until your legs can no longer hold you? Or perhaps, I’ll spank you so you won’t be able to sit for a week. Maybe, if you can take it, I’ll paddle your ass until my initials are patterned on your flesh.”
“Your paddle is engraved?”
“Just my initials. J.C. Jeffrey Clay.”
He cracked another smile, sending her limbs into quaking overdrive.
“Do you smile as often when your sub does as you ask?”
The question must have caught him by surprise, because he cocked his head lightly as if he hadn’t even realized he was smiling at her.
“Yes,” he said at length. “If my submissive pleases me, I don’t hold back. Why would I?”
She shrugged.
“The guy you were with at the club only cared about showing off his power over you. I want more. I want you to reach nirvana, to achieve subspace. Do you know what that is, Ms. Garcia?”
Amalia swallowed. She nodded. Every word he said sounded more decadently delicious.
“I’ve heard of it.”
“A state in which your adrenaline and endorphins spike so savagely you don’t know what hit you and you float. An adrenaline junkie’s dream. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it what you were seeking by coming into BDSM?”
“It’s a fantasy,” she mumbled, desperately trying to keep to her principles but feeling her resolve slip between her fingers at every second.
