by Shelly Bell
She’d called Jane earlier and casually brought up the topic, then inquired into the status of their search and what their private investigator had discovered so far. Over the summer, he had gotten a lead that gave them a birthdate and the name of the adoption agency. Unfortunately, the adoption agency had closed twenty-five years ago and their records had gone missing, presumed to have been dumped in a landfill.
But the birthdate had been all Dreama had needed.
Valentine’s Day. Almost thirty years ago. The same day Cash was born.
That alone wasn’t enough to conclude he was the missing McKay brother, but add in those unique gray eyes of his and Dreama had no doubts.
Dreama pulled out a tub of chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer. Keeping the secret about Cash from Jane hadn’t been easy. She needed advice in the worst way and Jane was typically her go-to person for it. Between Cash being fresh out of prison and their investigation into the accident, maybe now wasn’t the best time to throw a major life change into the mix. Although he’d expressed an interest in finding his birth parents, he hadn’t taken any action as of yet. To her, it indicated that he wasn’t quite ready for the information.
At the same time, how could she sit on something so monumental? Being a McKay meant more than just acquiring two brothers; it also meant acquiring about a half-billion dollars.
She shoved a large spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Cash deserved to know. There was no other choice. She had to tell him. As to the best way? Perhaps it was best to rip it off like a Band-Aid, quick and without warning.
At his knock, she shoved the carton back into the freezer, dropped the spoon into the sink, and hurried to let him in. Like a Band-Aid. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, prepared to blurt out the news before she lost her nerve.
“I think Thomas is lying to me.” Carrying his duffel bag, Cash stormed past her without so much as a glance.
“Funny thing,” she mouthed to herself. So much for ripping off the Band-Aid. The news would have to wait. She shut the door and followed him into the other room. “What did he lie about?”
An agitated Cash paced along the length of the room. “I met him for breakfast to ask him again about the night of the accident. He told me we shared a toast before he made his speech to the guests and then he saw me drinking another later. But the last time we spoke, he said he’d seen me drinking before our toast.”
Cash was so upset, he’d failed to acknowledge her half-naked state. She tried not to take it personally as she rested her back against the wall. “It was eight years ago. He might be confused. Did you ask him to clarify?”
“Yeah. He said he’d misspoken the last time.”
She shrugged, not seeing the problem. “Well, then that’s probably true. I mean, why lie about it?”
“I don’t know. But how could he have seen me drinking before the toast if he wasn’t even in the tent?”
Okay, she’d be the first to admit that was a little suspicious, but in the grand scheme of things, it was probably insignificant. Cash hadn’t acted anything like this when he’d learned about his negative Breathalyzer or when he’d received his toxicology report. Until tonight, he’d remained even-keeled and rational in spite of everything they’d uncovered.
“You don’t know if everything you remembered through hypnosis is one hundred percent accurate. Maybe more time passed between your arrival at the party and the time you went to find him. Or maybe after you overheard the conversation, you went back inside the tent.”
Cash stopped pacing. “You’re right.” Head hanging, he gripped the back of the couch with both hands. “I think regaining some of my memories threw me for a bigger loop than I’d anticipated.”
She understood that all too well. Whenever she experienced one of her panic attacks, it was like going through her tragedy all over again. “That must have been difficult for you.”
“I was thinking about what India said. What if there are things I don’t want to remember?” he asked quietly.
She strode toward him. “Am I pushing you too hard? Do you want to call off our search into your past?”
He shook his head. “If Thomas is lying to me for some reason, I need to know why.” His rib cage expanded as he took a deep breath. “We’re getting closer to the truth. I feel it in my bones.”
Standing directly behind him, she reached out her hands, wanting terribly to console him and remove his torment. She would wrap her arms around his waist, rest her cheek against his back, and use her body as a means of comfort. It was such a simple act. Her fingers were twitching with need. He’d worn an off-white sweatshirt that looked so soft, she could almost feel it pressed against her skin. And he smelled delicious, like oregano and basil. Those were practically pheromones to the Italian in her.
With his chin to his chest and his shoulders hunched, her gentle giant looked broken. If only she could figure out a way to put him back together again.
She didn’t think telling him about his parentage right now was going to help. That info was going to have to keep on ice for a while until the time was right.
But maybe there was a way to take his mind off things, if only temporarily.
“Cash?” she said softly. “Let me help you.” The greatest gift she could give to him was her submission. If unleashing his sadistic side relieved his inner turmoil, the masochist in her would gladly accept it. “Use my body for your pleasure. I can take it.” She lowered herself to the carpet, spreading her thighs apart and leaning forward, splaying her arms out in front of her in offering.
He slowly turned around. His eyes widened as he finally noticed her and what she was wearing. A muscle jumped in his cheek as his jaw tightened. He stared at her as if he was a predator about to devour his prey. “Tell me your safe word.” He caught the bottom of his sweatshirt in one hand and yanked it over his head before dropping it onto the floor without a care. She salivated over the way his obliques twisted and tightened from the action. “Because you might need it tonight.”
Her pussy clenched at his threat. It had been so long since she’d experienced real erotic pain, the kind that made her lose herself in subspace. “Marathon.” But she doubted she’d need it. She trusted that Cash would respect her limits and wouldn’t give her more than she could handle.
Wearing jeans low on his hips, he flicked the button undone. She stared at the bulge behind the fly, wondering if that impressive erection had led to the decision to unbutton those jeans. Maybe she was the sadist because she wanted him uncomfortable, aroused, and desperate. She wanted him to feel at least a little of what she was feeling.
All her senses sharpened on him.
Legs spread, she waited patiently for instruction as he walked around her in circles. The minutes ticked by, him saying nothing, revealing nothing. She couldn’t ascertain his next move. It put her on edge. She felt like she was a poor helpless gazelle caught in the crosshairs of a hungry lion, knowing it was not a question of if he’d strike but when. Her breasts grew heavy and achy. A sliver of fear darted through her middle, making her body tremble.
Her breathing grew shallower and more rapid with every minute that passed. The air became thick with anticipation. She could practically taste it on her lips. Her fingers tingled on her thighs. She wanted to touch him.
Holy shit, she really wanted to touch him. There wasn’t an ounce of fear at the thought of it. What did it mean? Had she conquered her phobia?
He stopped to stand behind her. “I can’t tell, Dreama. Is your pussy dripping for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take your clothes off and then get on your hands and knees,” he ordered. “I want to see for myself.”
Dizzy with lust, she peeled off her leotard and got into position, keeping her gaze trained ahead as she waited for further instructions. She felt his heat behind her.
“Spread your legs wider. As much as you can,” he said gruffly.
A few moments later, warm air blew on her pussy. Oh Lord
, did that feel good.
She hung her head and saw him lying on his back, faceup with his head directly underneath her pussy. He lifted his neck off the floor and crudely inhaled, smelling her. “Unfortunately, there’s no evidence. I’m disappointed.”
She called foul as to his assertion of a lack of evidence. Even without personally checking, she knew her panties were drenched. He was playing with her, and she loved it. Heat gathered in her belly. She could barely catch her breath as she waited to see what he’d do next.
He slid out from underneath her and got to his feet. “I promise not to touch you with any part of my body, but that’s the only thing I’m promising. Because I’m going to hurt you, Dreama. You can count on that.” He circled around to her front, dangling a black silk blindfold. “Crawl to your bedroom.”
Crawling might seem demeaning to some people, but she adored everything about it. The slight humiliation, the submissiveness of being low to the ground, the way the position drew her Dominant’s attention to her ass.
She swayed her hips as she made her way to the foot of her bed.
Once there, Cash dangled the blindfold in front of her face. His bag was on the floor beside him. “Take it and get on the bed. After you put it on, lie down on your back with your head on your pillow.”
Heart pumping wildly, she mounted the mattress, slipped the blindfold over her head, and tightened the strap. Even with her eyes open, she only saw darkness. She lay back, following Cash’s instructions. Her mind ran through various scenarios of what implements Cash could use with her on her back. A cane? A crop? She squeezed her thighs together to quell the rising ache.
“Bad girl,” he hissed in her ear. “I saw what you just did. You’re already due for a punishment. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”
The worst punishment would be no punishment at all.
“Bend your knees, spread your legs, and put your feet flat on the mattress,” he ordered from above her.
She quickly complied, feeling the air waft over her wet pussy. The position left her open and on display for him. Perfect for cropping or flogging. She tried not to squirm as a wave of arousal pulsed through her core.
“Arms over your head and elbows bent,” he said. He was ensuring he had full access to her body, with nothing in his way. “I’m going to restrain your hands to your headboard. You’re going to feel the metal cuffs wrap around you, Dreama, but I’m not going to touch you with my hands. Remember to use your safe word if you need it. And, Dreama, you definitely might need it.”
A delicious chill passed through her, making her shiver. Smooth metal snaked around her wrists. She yanked at them, testing their strength. Her arousal multiplied at the knowledge she was helpless.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” he warned, a second before there was a pinch on her breasts, only a couple inches from her areola.
Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Son of a bitch!”
“Quiet!” Cash demanded. “No speaking or I’ll use a ball gag on you.”
He had a ball gag? Ugh, she hated those. They tasted like rubber and made her drool like a Saint Bernard. “What did you just put on my breast?”
He chuckled. “Clothespin.”
She gasped as a second pinch joined the first. Tears formed behind the blindfold, but she didn’t mind. Cash needed to hurt her and she needed the release. It was the beautiful symbiosis of a sadist and masochist.
Both spots throbbed and every time she inhaled, the clamp tightened. She concentrated on holding still as he attached the next clamp, but her body involuntarily jerked from the pain of it, making it even worse.
Oh God. If it hurt this much going on, what was it going to feel like coming off when all the blood rushed back in?
He worked in a circular pattern, adding more and more clamps to her breasts. They felt as if they had swollen to ten times their size. After a while, the individual throbbing morphed into one giant beating heart, and she no longer knew whether she wanted to arch up or shrink away.
Her breasts weren’t the only parts throbbing. Cash hadn’t done a thing to it yet, but her clit pulsed relentlessly. She was so sensitive, just the air felt like a finger’s caress. If only he’d allow her to close her legs, she could squeeze her thighs and create pressure to ease the ache. Testing him, she slowly brought her knees closer together.
“Stop, Dreama,” he said darkly. “Keep those legs spread wide for me.” Warm breath fanned her face. “Is your pussy jealous of your breasts? Give me a minute and I’ll rectify that for you,” Cash threatened.
Or was it a promise?
Would he really use the clamps on her pussy?
Did she want him to?
“You might want to hold your breath for this next one,” he warned.
The clamp caught her nipple between its teeth like a dog chomping on a bone.
A scream tore from her throat. Her entire pussy started pulsating as if her heart were beating inside of it. Pain flowed over her in hot colorful waves of reds and blues, and hot thick syrup vibrated in her veins. Her limbs tingled, and she felt as if she were floating above the mattress.
Sweet subspace.
When he finished clamping both her breasts, he started on the skin of her pussy. Two, four, ten of them were attached to her labia.
She was one giant exposed throbbing nerve.
“I wish you could see yourself, Dreama,” Cash murmured. “These clothespins look so beautiful decorating your body. I’m going to take a picture of you with my memory, so whenever I close my eyes, I’ll see you like this.”
She heard the slapping sound of Cash’s hand working his cock and her mouth watered at the thought of him shoving it between her lips. She turned her head toward him and opened her mouth in invitation.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted. “Dreama.” Hot liquid splattered across her cheeks, chin, and lips, and she licked up every earthy drop she could. “You’ve been a good girl,” he crooned. “It’s your turn now. One more clothespin. You’ll take it for me. Won’t you, baby?”
She tried to speak but couldn’t, so she willed herself to nod. Her entire body trembled as Cash trapped her clitoris between the vicious teeth of the clothespin. Bright stars exploded in her eyes.
“Ready, baby?” He rolled a smooth wooden object between her breasts.
A cane? Oh no. The clothespins must be strung together.
“One, two”
“Wait,” she begged.
He didn’t finish counting. On three, she felt him swipe the cane at the clothespins on her breasts. All at once, the clamps on her breasts, her nipples, her pussy, and her clitoris, released.
Blood rushed back into the tissue, bringing the most intense pain she’d ever experienced. Her toes curled into the bed and her nails bit into her palms as the orgasm hit her. Waves of exquisite pleasure tore through her pussy, and her inner muscles contracted around nothing, over and over again.
She shivered as smaller aftershocks rocked through her.
The room came into focus. Somehow, Cash had removed her blindfold and the cuffs from her wrists without her knowing. His handsome face filled her view.
“Can you sit up?” he asked, a bottle of water in his hand.
She nodded and hoisted herself up. Her jaw just about dropped to the floor as she took in his magnificence. Cash was completely naked. If she had created him with her own hands, she couldn’t have done it better.
After taking the water, she gulped it down and watched as he tipped his own bottle to his lips. Her gaze ate up the way his fingers wrapped around the plastic. She wanted them wrapped around her.
She wasn’t afraid.
What did it mean? Had she beaten her phobia?
She couldn’t be sure. Not until she tested it out and did what she’d wanted to do since meeting him.
Finished with her water, she put the empty bottle on the nightstand and got to her feet.
Her hands were trembling, but not from fear. “I need you to do something for me,”
she said to him. “Keep your hands at your side.”
He nodded, his divot making another reappearance. He put down his bottle next to hers and dropped his arms to his sides.
Without an ounce of trepidation, she stepped closer to him.
Standing on her tiptoes, she tilted up her chin, and after taking a final breath, pressed her lips to his.
TWENTY-TWO
Holy shit, Dreama was kissing him.
Cash’s pulse ratcheted up a hundredfold. Holding his breath, he didn’t move a muscle, even though he was dying to take control. He’d been tested plenty in his lifetime, but never more than in this moment. She tasted sweet, like the cookies she loved to eat. He wasn’t typically a sweets eater, but for Dreama, he’d always make an exception.
When her small hands settled on his chest, he was prepared for her to push him away. Instead, her fingers dug into his skin and her tongue slid between his lips, intensifying the kiss. He groaned as he curled his fingers into his palms to keep himself from touching her. Her hands were so damn soft and her lips fit perfectly against his. Tasting her mouth, feeling her skin on his skin, was like experiencing a bit of heaven on earth.
All too soon, she pulled her lips away and took a step back from him. Her pulse was throbbing on the side of her neck. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. The spot taunted him with its frantic beat. He wanted to press his mouth up against it and feel its vibration on his lips and his tongue. He wanted to suck on that spot until she wore his mark and bite into her flesh until she shuddered beneath him. Would she finally let him?
“I want to try something,” she whispered. “But first I need you to agree.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Whatever it is my answer is yes.”
She smiled. “You don’t know what I’m going to ask.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her warm breath caressed the skin of his chest. “If you want it, and it’s in my ability to give it to you, it’s yours.”
