by Grant, Livia
Taking it, Finn nodded. “Thank you.”
When the server sashayed off, Finn stepped forward but Ava did not. He looked at her; she was worrying her lip as she studied their next play area. “Just say your safe word, Ava. We can pack it in, get dressed, go for a coffee.” Though it galled him to offer it knowing she’d be playing with another Dom, he added, “I’ll cover your month’s fees for Black Light. You’ll win either way, little dove.”
Her fingers twitched in his. “No, I won’t, Sir. Not in the way that matters.”
She would, eventually. Finn was certain of it. This was more advanced than she was ready for, but if she felt it necessary to test her limits, at least he could provide a safety net for her to fall into when she needed it.
“The only thing that matters is you,” he murmured, and finally her eyes came to him. “When we go in there, I want you to get on the table, lay back, and put your feet in the stirrups.”
“You’ve done this before, right?”
Finn ignored the smattering of laughter as he towed her into the doctor’s office. He really didn’t think she’d appreciate knowing his experience with this activity came from long, miserable hours of freezing to death with his arm in a cow’s vagina up to the shoulder. Cows were roomy, unless the calf was stuck.
Ava wasn’t a cow and she definitely wasn’t in calf.
He gave her a smack on the ass as he urged her toward the padded exam table and watched her quibble over her choices for a minute. Her face was so expressive, she’d be the first one naked in a game of strip poker. “Relax and let me worry about what experience I do and don’t have.”
He tucked his bag beneath the counter, leaned back against it as he unfastened his watch and set it to one side with one eye on her. Her thigh muscles were trembling as she ran her hand over the equipment. His fingers worked down the buttons on his vest, his shirt, before he unrolled his sleeves. Shrugging out of the clothes, he heard someone—a distinctively female person—purr loudly in approval.
Ignoring it, he inspected the fingernails on his right hand, running the pads of his fingers over each one to check for sharp edges. Clean, short-cut, they wouldn’t pose a risk to her delicate inner flesh. Causing her injury was not going to happen.
Someone called out in encouragement as Ava awkwardly boosted herself onto the table, and despite his own misgivings over the scene, Finn found himself brimming with pride.
“Good girl,” he praised, and grinned when she flushed bright pink. He did like her with color in her cheeks.
Curious to see how far she’d push herself, he busied himself with little things that built into the collective big moment—gathering gloves and lube, scrubbing his hands meticulously before checking his nails again, debating standing versus sitting. He set a fat tube of lube and the gloves on a tray, then grabbed a towel. The club might have an excellent cleaning crew, but this much lube would be a bitch to mop up.
When he turned, tray in hand, his heart twisted and flopped.
Perfectly still save for the tremors rippling through her muscles, Ava was exactly as he’d ordered. Her eyes were trained on the ceiling, hands clutching the sides of the table, and she breathed deeply through her nose, exhaling slowly through barely parted lips. Those lithe legs were spread, not far enough, not yet, but he caught a glimpse of the pretty pink pussy he was about to make scream. Her plug nestled cozily between her cheeks.
If she was determined to try, he needed to change his tune.
He set the tray on the handy stand beside her, ran his hand along her thigh. She jolted, her breathing hitched, and she continued to stare at the light above her. Well, that was easily rectified now, wasn’t it?
More voices joined the hum of curiosity from intrigued voyeurs watching the scene. The light was bright enough above the table and dim enough outside the station that she couldn’t see just how many people wanted to watch this kink in action. Hear them, yes, but it was one thing to hear a rabble and another entirely to be able to count each one as they observed.
He took her wrist, stroked down her arm, and attached the restraint before she could object. They were loose enough that if she reacted violently, her hands would pop free with enough force. Tight enough to let her believe she was captured.
“I didn’t think you’d be tying me down, Sir.”
“This is unlike anything you’ve done before, little dove. Safety precautions, that’s all.” He skirted around the head of the table and affixed the second cuff. “Plus, it has the added benefit of you look really fucking hot.”
When he strapped her feet into the stirrups, she started to look a little more concerned, her legs moving restlessly. He’d gone on the side of caution with her feet—dainty though they were, he’d taken a kick or two off riled females before—and made sure they were secure.
Her breath whistled as he drew the padded strap over her hips. “What—”
“Shush, Ava. Trust me. Just close your eyes and give me control. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?” His tone dropped an octave, adding power to his statement. “Relax and breathe.”
When she obeyed, pride swelled.
Time to begin.
* * *
Ava
She was so fucking stupid.
Tied down, all of her body on display for the people she could hear murmuring quietly, with Finn standing over her… arousal went head to head with terror.
For the first time since they spun the wheel, she wanted to cut.
Why couldn’t they have spun something mundane, like tickling or age play? She’d seen those on the wheel and they seemed innocuous compared to the granddaddy of kinks they were stuck with. Why didn’t they have limits on the size of someone’s hands for this? Had they not seen Finn’s hands before he came to play?
Her hips arched of their own volition, yanking her from her thoughts, when coarse hands rested on her knees, cruising leisurely down her thighs, back up. She desperately licked her lips when they cupped the inside of the joints and pushed, spreading her obscenely wide.
Cool air wafted over her.
She heard the stirrups lock into position. Sounds of sex echoed in her head as someone tittered. Paranoid, she tried to close her legs, only for Finn to pat her foot gently.
Fingers circled the metal bulb in her ass, tugged it firmly. “Think we need to remove this now, don’t you?” he asked pleasantly. “You’ve been so good, holding it for this long.”
She wanted to be good, she wanted to be strong.
She also wanted to wiggle when the plug stretched the rim of her ass. The burn was what she needed, and she mewled when Finn removed it completely.
Warm fingertips traced her labia, parted them. Stroked along the slick seam carefully. “Not nearly as wet as you need to be, little dove. I’m gonna help you with that.”
His voice had thickened with a slow drawl and, combined with what she thought of as his Dom voice, wrecked her in an instant. Slow, deep, and dark obviously pressed all her buttons.
Her eyes popped open when a warm tongue followed the path of his fingers. Gripping her thighs from beneath, Finn’s dark head was the only visible part of him as he crouched in the vee of her legs and tripped the switch to the floodgate inside her, magic tongue exploring every nook and cranny he could find.
He used his fingers to keep her open, pushing that damned tongue inside her while his thumb strummed her clit like a guitar pick on a string.
Ava almost screamed in frustration, unable to lift her hips enough to hump his face. And by God, she wanted to. There was no room for fears or doubts or those shitty little insecurities in this moment—there was only Finn.
Then the bastard took her to the ledge, balanced her on her tiptoes above the crevice… and left her there.
“No!” she howled the word out of sheer desperation.
“Patience, little dove,” was his reply as he surged to his feet.
Damn near frothing at the mouth, she cursed him silently even as she wat
ched him pull on a clear latex glove with precision. Those doubts crawled back inside her as he slathered viscous gel over his index and middle fingers.
“Color, Ava.”
“Green!”
He arched a brow at her. “Green what?”
“Green, Sir. Please… I just want to come, Sir. Please let me come.”
She flinched as cold gel met heated flesh, then simply moaned in delight. Two thick fingers pushed slowly inside her, stretching her snug channel until she hissed with the ache. They scissored and twisted, intensifying the sensations. So many sensations.
The slick slide of lubricated latex over her clit sent electricity snaking down her spine, hotwiring it directly to her brain and cutting out the body between. Her hands fisted, straining against the cuffs.
“Are you ready to come, little dove?”
“Yes!” Jesus, did he not understand he held her sanity in his hands?
“We had such lovely manners earlier in the evening,” Finn admonished sternly, slapping the inside of her thigh sharply and thrusting his fingers deep. They crooked up, sparking the fuse. “Say please, little dove. Say please, real nice.”
Her legs tried to jerk straight; her hips rose an inch off the padding of their own volition. Her body, goddamn it, was no longer hers. It was his, every inch, and he fucking knew it. She didn’t say please real nice.
She screamed it.
Her brain imploded from stimulation. Her vision frayed at the edges, shattered into glorious fragments where she was reduced to nothing but a heartbeat floating in empty space.
Bumping back to earth wasn’t as thrilling. Calmer, a little bit strung out and perspiring freely, Ava’s eyes rolled around the station. They landed on the giant still looming between her legs, his serious mouth curved at the corners, his hand still working her pussy.
“Did we win?” she slurred.
His unoccupied hand hit the table beside her head and he leaned over her to study her eyes. Broad, broad shoulders blocked out the light from above. And still he pushed deeper, stretched her further with just two digits. She felt more connected to him in that moment than if it had been his cock forging inside her.
“Not quite, Ava. Ready for me to stir things up again?”
Looking into his eyes, she wished her hands were free. The urge to slide her fingers into his hair and tug him down to replicate that scorching kiss was ridiculously strong. She’d never been kissed like that, like she was the central star in a man’s universe. “It’s going to hurt, right?”
Gray eyes were sympathetic before they switched to devious. Finn twisted his hand, did something that brought a strangled cry from her lips. “Fisting probably wasn’t the most ideal spin for this tight pussy,” he crooned, twisting his hand again and almost catapulting her through the ceiling. “But you like the pain, don’t you? Your eyes don’t lie, Ava, so don’t let your mouth betray you.”
Fuck, he was hot when he was like this. She’d never imagined finding a dominant man attractive, sure as hell hadn’t thought she’d be spurred on by words that could quite easily have been callous. “Yes, Sir. You know I do.”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” Still, he watched her face for a few more seconds before he eased back, slipped his fingers from her with a wet sucking noise that, absurdly, mortified her. He reached for the black towel on the tray, the one that probably cost more than her life was worth considering it was emblazoned with the club’s initials, and shook it out, folded it in half, then slid it under her tender ass.
Her breath shuddered out as he slicked more lube over his hand, liberally coating all four fingers until it dripped from the blunt tips. Big hands, solid fingers. Working man’s hands. “W-What do you do for a living?”
Chapter 7
Finn
“You’re choosing now to ask me that?” Finn asked, amusement evident in his tone. His cock wasn’t quite as entertained—it was halfway to busting out of his pants and diverting the scene to a more satisfactory ending. “I run about twenty-thousand head of cattle over eighty-thousand acres of prime Montana real estate, darlin’.”
“Cattle… cows?”
He chuckled, screwing two fingers back into her opening as he talked. She grasped him greedily, driving him insane, and on the next thrust of his hand, he added a third finger. Christ, she was tighter than a maiden heifer. “That’s right. Open up for me, Ava. Just relax.”
She whimpered, blue eyes glazing over.
“Watch, Ava. I want you to watch my hand and feel me inside you.”
Feet away, the gathering of spectators grew. Finn could feel them, the press of them around the area as lust ebbed and flowed from person to person.
He swiveled his wrist from side to side, adding a little more pressure this time to work his hand against the resistance of her snug hole. He had doubts he’d get the pronounced heel of his thumb or the wide bridge of his knuckles past her narrow entrance. He swore to God his little sub was either a virgin or she hadn’t been treated the way she deserved.
A woman like Ava wanted fucking relentlessly, that nervous body sated with orgasms and the pain she needed, then being tended to like a queen. If she didn’t have a life here, a home here in D.C., he’d be thoroughly tempted to offer her a seat on the plane home in the morning and take care of her the way she deserved.
Finn cursed under his breath and grabbed the lube again, pouring it over his hand and engaging an almost piston-like motion. She’d done as he ordered, and her eyes were locked on where they joined, watching his fingers plunge in and out. Lube and her own juices combined into a thick, slick mess that squished wetly, dripping down the crack of her ass to pool on the towel.
When she started to whimper in her throat and the constriction surrounding his hand eased, he knew he was making progress. Her labia bloomed around his fingers, bright red now rather than blushing pink, and her clit resembled a ripe berry.
Finn closed his eyes, concentrated. He thanked God he’d had the foresight to strap her hips down; he wasn’t sure whether her undulations would have hindered or helped. They weren’t helping him quell the urge to shove his pants down and mount her as though he was one of his prize bulls.
Focusing on the warmth and wetness around his fingers, the squeeze of her muscles, he changed the angle of insertion and gained a smooth inch. There was something primal, carnal, in the way her flesh submitted.
He was a man who relished the feel of a woman squirming beneath him as his cock spread her open, pushed deep. Watching apprehension dawn in their eyes was probably a sadistic pleasure, but he loved to see fear turn into knowledge, knowledge spiral into ecstasy.
Ecstasy devolve into sheet-clawing, toe-curling hunger.
But this… Ava’s trust and willingness to surrender was something else.
She grunted hard, her whimpers coming a little faster, almost guttural.
Finn opened his eyes, assessing her carefully. He eased his fingers out carefully, muttering under his breath as her pussy tried to clamp around them. “Color, little dove.”
Her laugh was slightly desperate. “I don’t know.”
“Think and think hard.” He straightened and stretched the tension out of his shoulders, taking a few moments to revel in the raw beauty of her. Crouching, he inspected her gently, pleased to see no bleeding or bruising. “Made your mind up yet?”
“Maybe…” she swallowed nervously and, adorably, her toes curled into the stirrups. “A yellow shade of green? Like more yellow than blue?”
Finn rose and pulled her thigh against his side, wrapped his arm around her calf, then bent to press his lips to her raised knee. “Are you sore?”
“A little. I think I’ll be more so when you’re…” Another swallow, tighter this time. “What if…”
Ignoring the collective hum of impatience from outside the station, Finn watched her face as she trailed off. Something was worrying her, eating away at the arousal and undermining her pleasure. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, just tucked her chin into her shoul
der away from the voyeurs. “You can tell me, Ava. Don’t be embarrassed if you have concerns.”
Those slim shoulders shrugged listlessly; Finn slapped her thigh. “Shrugging is not an answer, little dove. Give me the words and, while you’re at it, let me have those eyes.”
They slid back to him, beautifully blue and looking strangely reminiscent of a puppy that had been kicked. “What if you get stuck?”
Someone laughed, a Dom from the sound of it, and someone who should have known better. Ava turned beet red and tears shimmered under the lights. She yanked at her wrist restraints. “Fuck this. This was a bad idea. Let me go.”
“No, you don’t, little dove.” Finn pressed his hand between her breasts, pinned her down, then seared the crowd with a look. Scanned the faces he could see with an intent to cause grievous bodily damage. He raised his voice to make sure all and fucking sundry could hear him. “Anyone who laughs at a sub’s concerns shouldn’t be a fucking Dominant. You listen when she raises a valid point, and you address it with the respect she deserves.” He ripped the glove off, tossed it aside when her breath caught in all the wrong ways, then leaned over her and gripped her face in both hands so she had no choice but to look at him. “You think after all the time and patience I’m putting into breaking into the art gallery for this divine piece of art, I’d damage it on the way out?”
Her response was part-sob, part-chuckle.
“It’s a vagina,” she said weakly. “Not the Smithsonian.”
“Correction: it’s your vagina, and I’m feeling rather attached to it.” He kissed her, softly, sweetly, breaking out of the scene and not giving a damn. “There’s a medic on standby, Ava. I can see him lurking. None of us here are going to let anything bad happen to you.”
His thumbs wiped under her eyes as wetness glimmered beneath them.
