Free

by Kristen Ashley

  He’d also told her no ass play.

  She’d gagged him, and he had been fine with that.

  What he had not known at the time was that she’d done it so he could not verbally protest.

  He had not read the handbook, but it was his understanding that was against the rules.

  Benito did not have a lot of use for rules.

  However, he was feeling them right then, lying in his own ejaculate, gagged and strapped to a bed, his cock spent, his ass used.

  This had been a tryout. Just to see. And if he enjoyed it, practice for Tallulah.

  He assessed his condition.

  He would do this again.

  Absolutely.

  All of it.

  Though with one minor change.

  She came back after cleaning the black rubber cock, set it on a blood-red towel she had laid out on the black lacquer nightstand by the bed and then her eyes came to his.

  Hers were blue.

  He thought he’d chosen wisely.

  And in a sense, he had.

  In another one, he had not.

  She sat with her hip brushing his outstretched arm.

  He looked at the cock.

  His first time, and she knew it, she’d given him length and girth.

  He’d be feeling that up his ass, probably for days.

  He’d relish the feel then the memory of it.

  However . . .

  She slid her hand down his spine, over his ass and reached to stroke his spent balls.

  “I’m gonna let you go now, pet,” she purred.

  At her last word, Benito felt the stillness seep through him as the biting cold swept in.

  He had long since learned that he felt much less than others did, save the satisfaction at besting an interesting challenge, or his enjoyment when one of his concerns rendered exceptional dividends.

  He also felt that frigid cold.

  It was by far his favorite.

  Yes, it would appear that he’d relish the memory of this session for some time.

  His eyes slid up to her to see she had a supercilious smile curling her over-glossed, red lips.

  She had used him as he had not asked to be used.

  This was her mistake.

  A mistake, considering what came of it, he could have let slide.

  He could be reasonable.

  He wasn’t a monster.

  But calling him “pet?”

  She stopped stroking and shifted to the knot that bound one of his wrists.

  When he was free, he moved away from his cum to sit on the side of the bed and pulled off the gag himself, dropping it to the sheets.

  She was up and four feet away, standing at a podium that held an open book, her back to him.

  “I accept gratuities,” she declared, the purr gone, it was business now. “And if you want more, we can schedule you again before you go. I suggest a double booking. You liked that. I’ll blow your mind if we have more time to play.”

  Unhurriedly, Benito got up from the bed.

  He walked to her.

  Then he lifted a hand, cupped the side of her head and enjoyed her shocked gasp before he slammed it against the wall.

  He used her hair to pull her back, turn her, then he backhanded her.

  She cried out, stumbling to the side.

  He caught her by the throat, held her there, that hold needing to tighten as he planted his fist in her face.

  Once.

  Twice.

  A third time.

  Blood came from her mouth and nose as she took her fourth and fifth.

  He moved his fingers from her throat, curled them around the side of her head again and smashed it into the wall, pulling back, and again, before he turned her to face the wall.

  He held her there with an arm at the back of her neck, shoving her cheek against the garish, flocked wallpaper, and he reached down to yank up her skirt.

  “No, please, no,” she begged, hands slipping on the wall as she struggled ineffectively against his hold.

  She was wearing a G-string. He snapped it with a brutal pull then kept her where she was as he reached for her cock on the nightstand.

  “No!” she cried. “No! Please!”

  He pulled her back by her hair and slammed her face first into the wall.

  That quieted her.

  Her head lolled in his grip and he pressed against her, kicking her legs wide. She wobbled on a high heel but with his hold on her, had nowhere to go.

  “Please, you gotta do it, not dry,” she pleaded, her words slurring.

  “My instructions were simple,” he stated dispassionately. “Elegant dress. No ass play. Did you heed either?”

  “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. It’s just that clients say that and I know what they’ll—”

  “I’m not a client. If I pay for you, I own you for however long I’ve remunerated you for your time, and during that time, you do as I instruct. You did not do as I instructed.”

  “I’m sorry. Really sorry. Really,” she said, weeping now, tears mingling with blood on her cheeks.

  “I’m afraid that doesn’t help,” he replied, pulled her back and slammed her face into the wall again.

  When he was done, he left her at his feet, her face already swelling.

  He stared down at her and ordered, “Do not move. You leave it inside you until they take it from you. Have I been heard?”

  “Y-yes,” she pushed out weakly.

  He walked to the bathroom. Calmly washed her blood from his hands. Equally calmly, used one of her washcloths to clean his cum from his stomach.

  He moved back into the room and tossed the wet cloth on the bed.

  She lay where he left her, curled on her side.

  The cold was gone.

  He missed it.

  But he knew it would come back.

  Benito leisurely dressed.

  Coming to stand close to her again, he adjusted the French cuffs under the sleeves of his suit jacket.

  “Who will you be sharing this with?” he asked.

  “N-nobody. Confidential. M-my services are c-confidential,” she stammered, eyes aimed at the wall.

  “I hope so,” he muttered.

  She trembled at his feet.

  It was too bad he’d come as hard as he had and her face was that fucked up.

  He found the trembling intriguing.

  It was something he had a feeling he’d enjoy exploring.

  Perhaps another time.

  With someone else.

  “One last thing,” he said. “Perhaps most important for you to learn,” he told her unemotionally. “I’m nobody’s pet.”

  With that, he walked to the door, opened it and looked to his men who were standing outside.

  “Clean the room,” he ordered. “Burn the sheets and what’s been left on the bed. Retrieve the toy from her. Clean it thoroughly. I wish to keep it.”

  His men nodded then moved into the room.

  Benito walked out.

  He left the building, going directly to his waiting car.

  He opened the door himself and slid in the back.

  “Home,” he said after he shut the door.

  His driver eased them onto the road.

  He shifted in his seat, turning his head to look out the window, feeling his mouth soften and his cock get semi-hard at the reminder his movement gave him of that afternoon’s pleasant discovery.

  He pulled back his cuff, saw the red marks on his wrist, righted his cuff and sat back on a sigh.

  He’d have to find another one.

  That was, until he could train Tallulah.

  Red hair.

  Blue eyes.

  Tall.

  Curvy.

  He’d likely have to buy her the clothing he wished her to wear, but that was no matter. And he was further surprised he was looking forward to that possibility.

  But no gags. He had a feeling he’d enjoy his own noises.

  He was mildly intri
gued, having the way Tallulah was with him, her confidence, her lack of fear, had opened this pleasurable avenue to explore.

  He’d have to suggest a film of this nature to his director.

  He extended his fingers and savored the ache in his knuckles.

  All in all, a successful afternoon.

  His phone vibrated against his chest.

  He took it out, looked at the screen, and his mouth spread in a smile.

  Unexpected.

  All of it.

  But yes, it seemed this was going to be a very successful afternoon.

  He put the phone to his ear.

  “Tack,” he greeted.

  A rough voice sounded from his phone.

  “We’re makin’ a meet.”

  Again, Benito smiled.

  Yes.

  A very successful afternoon.

  Clara and Rhodes

  Rebel

  “If this doesn’t work out with us, heads up, I’m going after the bearded one,” I teased Rush as I sat beside him in his truck on the way from Ride back to his place.

  “That’s Joker and just sayin’, his wife, Carissa is gonna give birth to his kid any day now. He’s pretty much living for that day, though mostly he lives for her. He’s been in love with her since high school.”

  Sweet, I thought.

  “Ah,” I said then I kept it up. “Right, then the blond one.”

  “Snap’s old lady is called Rosalie and she’s all sugar, no spice, but she’d still be all about the catfight, you looked at him in a way she didn’t like.”

  I reckoned any old lady had a catfight in her in such an instance.

  “Then the one who looks like a lunatic from an asylum where you’d definitely want to be an inmate so you could keep him company,” I said.

  There was a smile in his voice when he replied, “Hound’s woman is also knocked up and she’s a biker babe to the core. She’d wipe the floor with you.”

  Hmm.

  “The one with the biker version of a Fu Manchu that’s only one shade down from scorching hot?” I tried.

  “Property of Lanie. And she wouldn’t risk breaking a nail. But she would hire a hit on you.”

  I turned to look at him. “Property of?”

  “MC culture. Traditionally, that swings only one way. The way Chaos rolls, it swings both.”

  I liked that.

  “And don’t even think of High,” he added. “Millie’d drag you around the Compound by your hair.”

  “Are they all taken?” I asked.

  “Dutch or Jag might give you a go, but you’re probably too old for them.”

  And the man turns my giving him shit back on me.

  I looked forward. “Just thirty and already a cougar.”

  Rush chuckled.

  “You do know, it takes the fun out of busting your chops after you left me with your stepmom like you did when you don’t play along and get insanely jealous I find all your brothers hot.”

  “You might want to be not so obvious you’re just busting my chops, then,” he replied.

  I hmphed.

  Loudly.

  He reached out and took my hand.

  He linked his fingers in mine, saying softly, “I fucked up, babe. A lot on my mind. I didn’t think. That wasn’t cool. For you or Tyra.”

  I looked at him, relatively stunned.

  The relatively part was that this was Rush. All the goodness I got from him was beginning not to be a surprise.

  He was still a man, so him understanding what he did was not cool, copping to it and kind of apologizing for it, even if he didn’t use those exact words, was the part that was stunning.

  “Now you’re screwing with my ability to remain marginally pissed at you by admitting you fucked up,” I shared.

  He smiled at the windshield and moved my hand to rest on his thigh.

  “It seemed okay,” he noted.

  “We had a rocky start,” I told him, and his fingers in mine squeezed. “We smoothed it out. She’s nice.”

  “She’s awesome.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, drew in breath and asked, “You guys get things in hand?”

  “As best we can.”

  I turned to look at him again. “Are you okay?”

  He shrugged a shoulder and gave my fingers another squeeze. “As best I can be.”

  “Let me guess, brother business is brother business. I quit Benito, I’m in the dark?”

  He glanced at me before looking back at the road. “Yes and no. There’s shit you won’t know because it’s brother business. There’s other shit I’ll share.” He hesitated and announced, “At the end of the meet, I didn’t just call Tab like I told you about. I had to call my mom.”

  Oh, he’d told me about dinner with his sister the next night.

  But even with that scariness at hand, what he said grabbed all my attention.

  So it was me squeezing his hand before I asked, “Why?”

  “Women are getting dead, Rebel. She has ties to Chaos. They’re historical but all this shit is historical. Dad contacted her, offered Chaos protection. She didn’t take him up on that. So Dad asked me to follow up. I’m hoping she’ll call.”

  She didn’t sound all that nice.

  Harrietta dumped in the street, how something like that would affect Rush if it was his mother, I hoped she called too.

  “Right, of course,” I murmured. “I . . . does she not know what’s happening?”

  “It would not surprise me she’d be okay with getting dead just to make Dad feel like shit and fuck with Tabby’s head.”

  All right then.

  She really didn’t sound all that nice.

  “Whoa,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, she’s pretty stubborn and holds a mean grudge.”

  I knew all about that kind of thing.

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  He pressed my hand to his thigh. “It is what it is.”

  “I’m still sorry.”

  Another glance and a soft, “Thanks, baby.”

  I shut up and looked forward.

  “We’ll hit the market before we hit home,” he changed the subject. “Make a mental list of what you want in the house.”

  “You want me to cook tonight?”

  “If you want.”

  I thought about making him dinner.

  I thought about making him breakfast.

  I thought about all the time I would now have on my hands that would probably be mostly filled with cooking for him, hanging with him while he did important stuff and maybe catching some TV.

  These thoughts didn’t make me happy.

  I was not big on having nothing to do.

  It was then I remembered about brunch.

  “Oh shit,” I mumbled.

  “What?”

  I looked at him again. “Brunch. Sunday.”

  “What?”

  “I asked Amy and Paul over for brunch on Sunday. That’s three days away.”

  “Okay. So brunch for them on Sunday is on the agenda,” he replied.

  “Um, I’m not sure that’s wise.”

  “No worries. Boz or someone will have the main house. And I’ll be there with you.”

  Oh boy.

  His fingers tightened in mine and I was unsurprised he read my vibe.

  He just read it wrong.

  “You don’t want me there with you?”

  “Well . . . uh . . .”

  I didn’t finish that.

  “Babe.”

  That was a growl.

  And he wasn’t done growling.

  “You’ve met my dad and my stepmom, and Tab’s pretty much made it command attendance at her and Shy’s pad for dinner tomorrow.”

  Eek.

  I was ignoring the fact I was meeting his sister the next day.

  A girl could only take so much.

  It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since we started our first date, for God’s sake.

  “And you don’t want me to meet Paul
and Amy?” he pushed.

  “It’s not that.”

  “What is it?” he demanded.

  “I just . . . they’re not good after what happened to Diane,” I shared.

  “I didn’t think they’d show throwing glitter and singing ‘Jeremiah was a bullfrog,’” he returned.

  That was kind of funny.

  He still sounded like he was getting pretty pissed.

  Shit.

  I had to come out with it.

  “Well, it’s more about the fact that Paul is having a slight problem with his alcohol intake,” I admitted.

  Rush was silent.

  “And I might have promised Amy I’d talk to him about it.”

  “Might have?”

  “In the sense I promised Amy I’d talk to him about it.”

  I waited for Rush to get ticked I’d gone all Superwoman again. Even if this particular bit was grandfathered into the whole thing about me taking care of everyone’s business before my meltdown, after which I learned my lesson to stop trying to take care of everyone’s business (maybe).

  But he just sighed before he asked, “How slight is this problem with his alcohol intake?”

  “He’s pretty much always wasted, not going to work. I had lunch with them this week, showed at noon, he was home and he was shitfaced.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  “Yeah,” I agreed and looked forward.

  “What are you gonna say?” he asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “How about, ‘You getting slaughtered isn’t helping you or anybody, especially your wife. Sober up. Get to an AA meeting. Get your ass to work. And look after your woman.’”

  I again turned to him. “As succinct and to the point as that is, honey, I’m not sure that’s the way to go.”

  “Babe, this is what you got, so prepare for it because it’s all you got. Two things could happen with this, only two. One, no matter what you say or how you say it, he’ll listen, get his head out of his ass, straighten up his act and find a path to carrying on with his life even though he’s got a wound that will never heal. Or two, he’s gonna get pissed as shit, take that out on you, or his wife, cut you out, and maybe do that to his wife since it won’t be hard for him to figure out she put you up to this, even if he’s trashed, and you’re gonna lose him or them.”

  Fear gripped my heart.

  I actually felt it gripping my heart.

  “Rush,” I whispered.