Unmeasured (Unmatched Book 1)

by Alyssa Turner

  She didn’t notice the figure inching up to her until her shadow seemed to grow on the tracks in front of her. A large hand took hold of her neck before she could turn around. His fingers pressed firmly on her pulse.

  “You ran from me,” he said with a rough whisper in her ear.

  Marielle would have told her to run now. Her mother would have told her to fight. But there was no one on that platform telling her to do anything.

  “Yes.” She gave him a single syllable, no more, no less, and willed the smile from her face.

  “What made you think that I wouldn’t come after you?”

  She started to tremble, not from fear. Of course, not from fear. “I secretly hoped.”

  “Secretly?”

  “I…don’t want to want bad things.”

  “I shouldn’t get so much joy out of watching you push your way toward them.”

  The balls of her feet scraped the concrete, digging in with all her weight pressed forward. In an instant, she became a trophy in his grasp. Samantha didn’t say a word, because the one that came to mind was too hard, too wrong.

  “This is what you want, isn’t it? To be pushed over the edge?” he said. “Can you tell me no?”

  Tears burned her eyes, and she shook her head. It was a sickness she couldn’t cure. No medication, no amount of therapy, nothing could give her the right answer to that question. She could lie. She could pretend the lines between what was good for her and what was bad were clear and bright. She could only lie.

  And she wouldn’t dishonor herself with a lie.

  “I can’t, Master.”

  Oleg straightened his arm a bit more, extending her to a sharper angle over the tracks as she teetered with locked knees and tip-toe balance. She stared at the shiny rails glinting in the early afternoon sun. Tears fell from her eyes, and she raised her arms out on either side of her as if she might possibly fly should he let her go. It was an act of pure trust, a gift she couldn’t help but give because he gave her all the colors back.

  “And I can’t marry some other woman after I’ve visited hell with you and found you walking beside me as my equal in the darkness. You belong on my leash, little lion, tamed and safe and fed all you need until your belly is full. And when we are finished indulging that forsaken place inside both of us, I want the privilege of spoiling you as the regal creature you are.”

  Time stood at rapt attention, frozen like the statue Samantha had become. A few flicks of his other wrist, and his fingers connected with the panties beneath her skirt. He nudged the scrap of lace aside, and those fingers pulsed back and forth inside her cunt, complicit with his words. “If you give yourself to me, Lionceau, I will push you to the edge, but I will never let you fall. Do you understand what that means?”

  Her pussy quaked with the mix of danger and desire that enveloped her. She dangled on the precipice, held only by his fingers in her cunt and the firm grip wrapping his hand at the back of her neck. “Yes.”

  Like a promise or a prophecy, he pressed his thumb against her pleated asshole while his fingers made easy passes into her pussy. Just beyond the bend, a distant screech of brakes announced the imminent arrival of the still unseen metro. “Do you believe me?”

  Samantha swallowed a moan and tried to catch her breath so that she could answer him. “Yes, Master.”

  The train rounded the corner, and Samantha watched it grow from a spec to a stamp as his fingers colluded in claiming a sharp and crashing climax from her. Two simple fingers stirred her slowly into liquid, and the result was nuclear. No thinking, no right, no wrong. They were pure cause and reaction. She surrendered to him, handing over her shuddering body along with the orgasm he stole. The train grew larger, closing the distance. A nervous horn blared with rational insistence. “I missed you…too much.” His voice had become softer, calmer, and he took a step back, bringing her with him out of danger. “Too fucking much.”

  She turned and pushed her head to his chest, bowing and melting against him at the same time. They stayed that way for a few moments, letting the darkness fall away, letting the earth become solid beneath her again. She came to the realization and looked up at him. The wedding was off. “You aren’t getting married? No more business arrangement?”

  “No,” he whispered. “You made it look like a pretty bad deal.”

  She laughed a little at that, and he smiled back at her and then nuzzled her closer.

  “This is new,” he said. He took a deep breath, and his chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. “This is new for both of us. My arrangements with subs have always been temporary for a reason. I never wanted to hold on to someone like I want to hold onto you and I’m not letting go.”

  She looked up at him. “Then don’t.”

  “Is…everything okay here, miss?”

  The question ripped Samantha out of the tractor beam of Oleg’s gaze to find a middle-aged man staring back at them. “Oh…uh…yes. I’m fine.” Oleg didn’t break from looking at her, although a smile snuck into the corner of his mouth. “This is my…”

  “Master,” Oleg said, remaining locked on her and only her.

  “Yes, my Master.” Her own smile beamed bright. “I am his pet, and I was lost. But he found me.”

  He drew a finger over her cheek. “Are you ready to go home, Kitten?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  With a dip of his head, he introduced her to the kiss of ownership. His mouth was tender but brimming with confidence. He coveted the soft petals of her lips with savoring sweeps of his tongue. These were his lips to bless or abuse, and he meant to keep her guessing. When she pressed her tongue into his mouth, he snared her bottom lip between his teeth. When she let her mouth fall open for him, he scooped her up, and her legs wound their way around his waist. They walked right past the gawking man, and Oleg didn’t pull his hungry mouth away from hers.

  “Be careful, miss,” the man called after them.

  Samantha broke away just long enough to yell, “Not if I can help it!”

  They walked hand in hand to Oleg’s awaiting car. His driver immediately exited the driver’s seat to open the back door, but Oleg waived him off and opened the door for her himself. “Take off your clothes,” he said and closed the door the moment she sat down.

  Samantha watched as he rounded the car and opened the trunk. He removed a large glossy black shopping bag, and she hurried off her sweater and the tank underneath. The other passenger door opened again just as she removed her skirt. She sat in her underwear, pressing her luck.

  He sat down next to her and placed the bag on the floor between his feet. “Naked,” he said and tugged on her underwear so that they parted her labia. Then he used his other hand to rip the strings on her hip that qualified the small triangles as underwear. He pulled the remnants free, and the fabric scraped over the seam of her ass and bumped against her swollen clit.

  Then he reached down and pulled a plush full-length shearling coat from the bag. He held it for her, and she slipped it on, encased in soft virgin wool. “Put your head here and lay down.” He tapped his lap. They pulled away from the curb with his fingers drawing long strokes over her hair.

  Ringing filled the cab of the car, and then Henri’s voice presented its signature I-could-almost-care-less coolness via Bluetooth. “Do you have her?”

  “Of course. I only had to wait at the station for three hours.” His finger twirled a lock of her hair, and he and Henri shared a laugh. Samantha had to smile too. “She’s where she belongs now.”

  “We have a surprise for you, little lioness,” Henri said, his voice warming some.

  “What is it?”

  “How can it be a surprise if I tell you what it is? Have you literally fucked her brains out already, Oleg?”

  Oleg continued to stroke her hair with soft, reverent sweeps of his fingers that seemed to make her soul tingle. “I haven’t.”

  “You know,” Henri all but sang the words. “I practically picked her out for you and delivered her all
wrapped up in a bow.”

  Oleg laughed softly. “What is your point?”

  “I might have had a chance with her if you weren’t in the picture, me being a handsome doctor and all…”

  Samantha giggled, picturing his face, too pretty for such a devil.

  “You’re not that handsome,” Oleg said.

  “Ask your little lioness what she thinks about it.”

  He didn’t ask, yet he didn’t skip a beat. “Are you fishing for an invitation, brother?”

  “And why wouldn’t I? She’s certainly not shy.”

  Oleg didn’t say anything then. He only continued to stroke her head with his adoring fingers.

  Henri broke the silence with an edge of impatience in his voice. “So? What’s your answer?”

  Samantha smiled.

  Oleg proved entertained as well. “You’re practically begging for a piece of her. You realize this?”

  “I’m not!” Henri shirked the notion. “Pfft… I’m not.”

  “You are, brother. She has you begging.” Oleg said and then paused again, steadily stroking her head like every minute was meant for drawing his fingers gently over her tresses. At last, he drew her hair away from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. She looked up to find him looking down at her. “Tell Paolo and Ivan that I’m bringing cake, and I’ll let all of you have some. Salut.” He ended the call.

  “Cake?”

  “We are having a party at the club. Paolo is already contacting everyone in our little community who should know that you are mine. Let’s call it your coming-out party.”

  “I’m the cake, aren’t I?”

  “You’re a lioness,” he said. “A little lioness who doesn’t know her strength.” He smiled at her from somewhere deep within. She saw the warmth of that smile in his amber eyes. “Tell me, Lionceau, do you want to wear a collar or a crown tonight?”

  She smiled at the one person who looked at her and saw everything. “I want to wear both.”

  *

  Oleg regarded her barely contained excitement and felt both possessive and proud, and a little concerned. “When I introduce you, it will be only after I’ve properly marked you as mine.” He scrutinized her reaction. “It’s not going to be like the last time, Samantha. We were all holding back. That night at dinner was to be a lesson in pleasure for you. This will not be a lesson at all. In fact, it will be more like a test.”

  “Not for me, but it might be for you,” Samantha said.

  He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to him. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You were holding back that night at dinner. Were you holding back yesterday?”

  “No.”

  “You said that you survived me. That dominating me was like drowning in quicksand.” She sat up. “That’s not because I’m brave, Oleg. I’m damaged.”

  He searched her pretty face, as if looking for a crack in the porcelain. “You look perfect to me.”

  She dipped her head, her lips fighting the urge to turn down at the corners. “I was born without the ability to process fear in the way normal people do. Some people can’t get enough of roller coasters and skydiving. I take that to a whole new level. A part of my brain, my amygdala, did not develop like it was supposed to, and so a lot of the time things that should scare me, trigger a pleasure response instead.” Her eyes found his again. It’s not that I thrive on fear. It’s that I don’t know how to be afraid.” She blinked a few times, searching his eyes for something he hoped she’d find there. “I’ve been good at managing my behavior. When I feel the urge to do something dangerous or push things too far, I’ve learned to take only a taste, to make sure there are safe limits in place. You see, logically, I totally understand where my boundaries should be. I’m not a lunatic. I get that there need to be some lines that I don’t cross. But you blur those lines so well, Oleg. I don’t see any walls with you, and it makes me so desperate to explore everything.”

  He listened without interrupting, as every word made him feel valiant and vile at the same time. Dark and light, good and evil. She was right. For them, there was little difference

  “But it’s a burden, keeping me safe,” she continued. “I should know. I’ve carried that burden all my life. Marielle says that it’s too dangerous for me to be anyone’s submissive. I understand how that could be the case, and now that you know what you are dealing with, I’ll understand if it’s just too much.”

  Oleg pulled her to his chest. She felt so fragile in his arms, so small. “You think that you can’t be edged, because you don’t experience fear in the typical way most people do, but you’re wrong, Samantha. I know your edge. I see it when you think I’m not looking, when you believe no one is paying you a bit of attention.” He slid his hand over her neck and pushed the coat from her shoulder. Her breast barely filled his hand. “What if I went to work and left you here with Jean Michelle, who won’t even speak a word to you the entire time if I instruct him not to?”

  “I would hate that.”

  “You would survive it. But I bet the thought of it is making you feel almost sick inside.”

  She nodded her head. “I am also an attention whore.”

  “You’re my attention whore,” he said. “So you see, I know your edges, Lionceau. And I also know your center. Your center is in the middle of all the action where you can edge your Masters while they try to edge you. Wear your crown and find your center. Wear my collar and find your edge. I promise you can have both.”

  He watched her eyes grow wide with excitement.

  “We’ll start with this,” he said and pulled a linen box from the bag. “It says that you are mine, and it also says that I am yours.” He lifted the lid to show her the rose gold and diamond bezel-studded choker. “And if you call it a necklace, I will turn you over my lap right here.”

  He could see that she was resisting the urge, but she grinned, and her smile lit up his world.

  “Turn around.” He placed the gleaming band around her neck as she ran her fingers over the diamond studs.

  “Oh my God, I love it! Take a picture!”

  He tugged on the O ring, snapping her forward. “I’m sure you would like that,” he said and pulled a matching golden leather leash from the bag. The latch closed around the ring with a neat little snipping sound. “But when you are wearing my collar, you will recall your fucking manners, Kitten.”

  She bit her lip in the most adorable manner, and cast her gaze downward, mischief glinting in her eye. “Please?”

  He had to laugh. “You get a pass for being cute.” He snapped the picture, and she grabbed him.

  “You too. Both of us,” she said. “Please.”

  Another wish granted because he couldn’t resist. “Are you happy?”

  She beamed. “So happy.”

  Chapter 30

  On instinct, Samantha fell in step behind Oleg as they approached the façade of the building. He stopped and turned around before they reached the door. “Did you have any plans for the afternoon?” Oleg asked. “Because I’ve cleared my schedule, and I don’t anticipate seeing the light of day until tomorrow.”

  “Nothing that qualifies as a plan.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Another thing you should know about me is that I sort of suck at managing anything that’s supposed to happen more than ten minutes into the future.

  He reached into her new shearling coat for her leash. His fingers grazed against her sternum as he massaged the gold leather in an up-and-down motion. “I already know that about you, Kitten. Leave the planning to me. I’m sort of an expert.”

  She didn’t doubt it. Her stomach fluttered, and the sensation was all electric anticipation for what was on the other side of that door. She was drunk with the idea of never quite knowing what he had in mind for her. His eyes held the calculations of each one of his plans, and his hungry gaze all but incinerated the last of her naïveté. This time, when she walked into Club Duval, she knew what she was in for even if she had no idea w
hat he had in mind. Of course, there was that matter of a surprise.

  Henri looked up from his seat in a booth with Maurice when they walked in. He stood up to greet Oleg almost immediately. The heavy door nipped closed behind them, and Samantha began to shrug out of her coat. She loved the freedom of her nudity, the lack of pretense or bullshit. And she loved the gazes that fell upon her. There was no mistaking where she was and who she was with. As the coat fell from her shoulders, she had a good start on knowing who she was in this place. She was both captive and queen, and she felt a sense of ownership of both titles.

  As gracefully as she could, she lowered herself to a kneeling position and leveled her gaze first at Henri’s too-perfect face, and then at the protrusion in his pants.

  Oleg tightened the leash, and she leaned into his calf. She didn’t miss the jump behind Henri’s zipper.

  “She really is perfection, Oleg.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Oleg replied.

  Maurice jumped up from the seat in the booth, disturbing a pile of oversize papers into a flurry of ecru parchment. “Wait! Before you have her forgetting how to speak, remember that I have some business to discuss, and I need her to be able to think about more than your cocks.”

  Oleg and Henri both grinned. “Of course, Maurice. She should hear about her surprise first.”