by Rose, Renee
What doesn’t kill me...
“I’m not afraid of you,” I blurt, raising my chin in the air.
“Of course not. I can smell you from here. You smell...good.” He makes it sound obscene. “You like this place.”
“It’s growing on me,” I answer.
“There is much to enjoy.” Nero grins, showing fang. There’s no sign of the redhead he came down here with. I wonder if she’s in an alcove, resting, a glass of orange juice and bar of chocolate waiting nearby. Aftercare for a BDSM scene or a vampire feed?
Nero runs his hand over the leather padding of a raised bench. “I will be your guide, if you wish it. Virgil to your Dante.”
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here?” I quote Dante’s Inferno and the vampire’s grin widens.
“Exactly. Are you ready to come with me?”
Before I can answer, Trey growls. “Over my dead body.” Trey steps between me and the vampire. “Do you want this?”
I freeze when he holds up the collar. “Do you want to try this? Scene here?”
“Trey,” I whisper.
“Sheridan.” His tone warns me not to play. “Tell me.”
“Yes.” Yes, I want to try this. “But not with you.” Not after last night. I’m way too raw to offer myself up to him again only to be led to my car and told goodnight. No, it’s better not to get sexually involved with Trey. More sexually involved, that is.
“Not an option,” he growls and backs me to the wall, blocking me from anyone who might approach. “What’s your safeword, sweetheart?”
I lick my lips. Crap. My body is already surrendering. It already knows its master. “Spreadsheet.” I’m a finance major and an MBA, and I take accounting seriously. Any talk of work will pretty much kill the mood.
He shakes his head, smirking in a way that I know means he gets the joke. I draw back as he gets close, but after a moment lift my hair and let him buckle on the collar. Trey runs a gentle finger around my neck to check the fit and I’m helpless, legs turning to liquid, core molten, lips parting to welcome his as I stare into his eyes.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, and dips his head close enough to whisper in my ear. “You didn’t buy this collar for me, did you?”
Swallowing, I shake my head. He leads me forward, then turns and backs me into a sturdy frame. The wooden limbs of a Saint Andrew’s cross spread over my head, a heavy piece with silver studs and leather padding, and cuffs dangling at ankle and wrist height.
Trey secures one arm, then the other, and kneels to tie my legs. Beyond him, Nero watches, his face in shadow.
When Trey rises, my stomach flip-flops at the aura of command enveloping him. Like he flipped a switch, and instead of moonbrained biker dude, I have Trey The Dominant, ready to Rock. My. World.
“Trey, wait,” I say as he reexamines the cuff.
He pinches my fingertips, checking my circulation. “You feel okay?”
“Yes.” I squirm. I have dreams of being tied up like this, but I don’t want Trey doing it. I mean, I’ve fantasized about him doing it, but now that’s happening, I want it to stop. Don’t I?
“Wait a second,” I beg as he checks my other hand. “Let’s stop and talk about this.”
Trey hesitates, frowning. “You want to stop, give me your safeword.”
The word spreadsheet rests on the tip of my tongue. I just have to say it, and I’ll be free. I can leave Trey and the club behind, go home and get myself off to the memory of this for the rest of my life. That’s what I want to do, right?
After a long silence, Trey murmurs, “Yeah, I thought so. Say your safeword and this stops. Otherwise, we’re doing this. You want this. I know you do.”
“Let me go,” I hiss.
He shakes his head slowly. “No way, sweetheart. Not when I have you right where I want you.”
* * *
Trey
I don’t have my own implements. I notice the other doms are carrying duffel bags with equipment, so I make do. I pull my leather belt from the loops and wind the buckle end around my fist.
Sheridan stares with wide eyes, half-nervous, half-thrilled. My wolf is actually calmer than I would expect—it’s like he senses the danger here, knows I need to keep my head.
Thank fuck, because her scent is driving me wild.
Sheridan looks sexy as hell in her skin-tight leather outfit, and as much as I’d love to watch her skin turn pink under my leather belt, there’s no way I’m going to let any asshole here see her naked. I sort of like the idea of her having the layer of protection, anyway. I would die if I actually hurt her.
I wind the belt until less than a foot remains and then step in front of her. Her glorious tits rise and fall as she pants, irises changed from green to amber. “Beautiful wolf,” I murmur and slap the belt across the front of her thigh. She jerks, but smiles.
“Again.”
I run my thumb over her lower lip. She nips at it. “Cute, sweetheart, but you’re not in charge. I’m the one giving the orders tonight.”
Her eyes dilate and she tosses her beautiful head. I stand back to survey her with an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, then smack the belt right up between her legs.
She squeals, her body going rigid against the cross, then sagging. Her belly trembles on her exhale.
I slap her inner thigh, several times, then move to the other side.
The little sounds she makes nearly kill me. I’m getting dizzy and drugged myself, which isn’t good.
Keep your head. Stay cool.
I want to tear open that sexy catsuit and fuck her right against the cross. And you’d better fucking believe I bought condoms today. I lunge into her, squeezing her breasts roughly as I claim her mouth.
She moans against my lips, nipping and licking like she’s frantic for more.
I back up, depriving her of the satisfaction she craves.
Another slap between the legs. The sound of the leather smacking leather is delicious. I whip her pussy again, and again.
“Harder,” she moans. She appears completely drugged. I can see how a woman in this state might taste different to a blood-sucker. She’s definitely high. But I swear to the fates, if any of them come near this wolf, I will kill them all, and start the war to end all wars.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nero hanging around, watching the scene. I bare my teeth and growl, warning him back, but he merely throws back his head and laughs.
“Trey,” Sheridan mewls. Need drips in her voice.
“Not yet, baby. I’m not done whipping your front side yet. And when I finish, I have to turn you around and warm your ass. You’re lucky you’re wearing that catsuit and I’m too fucking possessive to let anyone see you without its protection.”
She licks her lips, her glassy gaze tracking my face. “And then?”
I give her a toothy grin. “Then, I’ll think about letting you come.”
She growls and fights the restraints, some of her submission ebbing. I laugh and slap up each of her inner thighs again.
I smack her pussy. “You want more of my belt here, little wolf?”
She rolls her head from side to side, chest heaving. “Yes! Fuck, Trey.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “Holy shit! You said it.”
She leans forward, straining at the bonds. “I said it. Now you do it.”
I laugh in total wonder, reward her with a hard, demanding kiss. I cup her mons with my free hand, apply firm pressure in undulations.
Her breaths grow even shorter, quicker. “Please, Trey.”
“And to think, all you needed was a little sexual stimulation.”
She tries to nip my lips. “Stop teasing. I need it.”
I arch a brow. “Need what, beautiful?”
“This. More. You,” she moans. “I need it all. Please, Trey.”
I reach up and release her wrists, then her ankles. I turn her on the cross and press her face first against the padded front. I replace the restraints and she waggles her hips,
like she’s trying to get relief by rubbing against the cross. It’s damn near the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Naughty girl,” I scold and whip her across the ass. I can tell she loves it because she hollows her back and sticks her butt out for more.
I let out a little more slack in the belt and whip her again and again, concentrating on the lower half of her ass, then working down each individual thigh.
Her moans grow louder and faster, like she’s going to come just from being whipped. My cock surges against my jeans. My vision starts to dome and my teeth lengthen, ready to mark her. Fuck, I may not get through this.
I glance over at the leech in the shadows again to regain my head. It helps. I draw a slow inhale in through my nostrils and keep steadily whipping Sheridan’s ass, when her cries reach a desperate pitch, I whip between her legs.
She chokes on a breath.
I whip again.
A keening mewl.
Another thwap against her clit.
She shrieks and her muscles seize up, a glorious shuddering running through her luscious form.
“That’s it, baby.” I drop the belt and slap with my hand—only because I need to get close to her—need to feel those muscles squeezing as she comes from her pussy whipping. I slap and slap—light, quick smacks until she tumbles down the other side of her release and goes limp, sagging into her bonds.
The moment I see it, I work her free of the bonds and wrap my leather jacket around her shoulders. “That’s it, baby. You were so beautiful.” I swing her up into my arms, ignoring the hungry stares of the leeches around us.
I don’t give a shit about pack-vampire relations or our mission to spy right now. I just need to get Sheridan out of there. Take her home and put her to bed.
Naked.
With me on top.
* * *
Sheridan
I’m drunk on endorphins for the entire ride home—I hardly notice that Trey’s put me in the passenger side of my car and took my keys to drive. When we get out, I throw my head back, like I’m in wolf form and am going to howl at the moon.
The moon bathes me in her beauty—she’s full and lush, her feminine power amplifying mine.
Trey’s eyes glint silver, too, and I suddenly can’t believe he’s never marked me. Our wolves were made for each other. How could we have denied it all these years? I lunge at him, twisting his shirt up in my fingers, smashing my lips over his.
He stumbles back, a surprised chuckle puffing between us, then yanks me up to straddle his waist. I bite his neck, lick his ear, rub my breasts against his chest. Somehow, he gets us inside and then we tear at each other’s clothes. I shred his shirt. He yanks my catsuit off me. His jeans and boxer briefs come off.
My skin is still warm and tingly from the whipping he gave me back at Toxic, the pulse between my legs insistent. He advances, tall, naked, potent. Tattoos curl around his forearms, over his shoulders and across his chest. His cock stands out, huge and erect.
I reach for his cock. It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex—twelve years, to be exact—but my body remembers. My body knows.
Trey catches my wrist before I can grasp his length. With his other hand, he fists my hair and tugs my head back. “Careful, baby,” he rumbles, bringing his lips to my jaw. “You get me too excited, and it will all be over before we start.”
I give a shaky laugh. Trey shifts to hold me around the waist and he walks with me to the bed, tumbles me down with him on top.
I can’t wait. I don’t want to go slow. I pull him to me, over me, my nails sinking into his back. His cock prods my entrance and I rock my hips, trying to help him in.
“Wait...hang on,” Trey chokes. He backs off me and retrieves a condom from the pocket of his jeans. I pinch my nipples and toss my legs around on the bed while I wait, which pulls a distinctly animal-like snarl from his lips. He rips the foil open with his teeth.
Will he mark me?
I can’t even think it, and yet goosebumps race over my skin as I watch his canines lengthen, the silver glow of his wolf eyes. On some level, I know this is it—he won’t hold back.
I’ve tried his self-control too many times.
He sheaths his cock and I climb up on my knees to meet him, but he pushes me back. He holds his thumb over my neck, not choking me, but holding me down.
Showing me who’s in charge.
My knees spread wide and I take him into the cradle of my legs. He rubs the head of his cock over my slit and I arch up, sucking in a shaky breath. I’m so freaking sensitive right now, I swear to the fates I could come again, just from him talking to my clit.
He pushes at my sopping entrance, stretching me as I take the head in. I draw in a sharp breath when he spears me in a single thrust and he freezes.
“Were you ready, baby?” His concern nearly makes me weep. He’s the same tender, thoughtful man he was twelve years ago when he first took my virginity.
I grab his ass and hold him in as I get used to his size. “Yeah, I pant. It’s just been awhile.”
Understatement.
My eyes slide to the side but when I sneak a peek back at his face, he’s staring down at me with an intensity I can’t look away from. I rock my pelvis up to move him inside me.
“There’s never been another for me.” His voice is rough and deep. He holds my gaze as he eases out and slams back in.
I gasp at the intensity of it—both his words and his thrust. “You mean...you never loved anyone else?” I’m trying to make sense of what he’s trying to tell me. He can’t be talking about sex, right? No male stays celibate for twelve years.
His upper lip twitches in a snarl as he jacks back and in again, stealing my breath. “Loved. Fucked. Dated. Only you.”
It’s ridiculous, but uncontrollable. I burst into tears.
Because… Trey.
My Trey.
He’s still mine. Never wasn’t mine.
“What about—” I don’t want to, but I have to ask.
He gives a quick shake of his head, changes his rhythm to short, hard thrusts. “I had to. To make you leave. You were supposed to go to college. Make something of your life.”
I’m fully sobbing now, and yet somehow still completely in sync with the sex, still needy for it, turned on by it.
“I’ve never been with anyone else, either,” I confess on a sob. I match the rocking of my hips with his thrusts, take him deeper. “It was only you for me, too.”
“Fuck,” Trey curses, closing his eyes, the veins standing out on his neck as he hammers into me faster, harder. “Fuck, Sheridan. I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you, too. I was such a bitch.”
Time slows. Rearranges. Or else we enter into no-time. All I know is the delicious slide and smack of his thrusts, the sensation of being filled and emptied, and all the while deeply held, revered, honored.
There’s magic sparking between us. Our wolves are meeting on the same level as our human selves—perfectly matched, perfectly in tune.
And then he roars, bucking so hard my butt bounces off the bed with each rebound, ramming the bed into the wall.
There’s a snarl and a sharp, satisfying pain.
The scent of my blood mingled with the scent of his essence. My arousal. Sex.
Marking.
Love.
The scent of love.
He falls down onto me and I sob into his neck—happy, glorious sobs.
He claimed me. He never meant to hurt me.
I’m finally where I belong. Where we belong.
Together.
Prese
Chapter Ten
Present
Sheridan
I’ve never woken up with a man before. It’s delicious. Trey’s warm limbs are curled around me, his scent fills my nostrils. I turn into his embrace and nuzzle his neck. Then I remember that he marked me, and touch my own.
The wounds have already closed. I run my finger over the raised area
s. Trey tangles his fingers over mine and traces the marks with his thumb. “Tell me it wasn’t a mistake.” Worry glints in his gaze.
He always was a thinker.
An over-thinker, when it came to me.
He let me hate him just to make sure I’d go to Stanford!
Sweet, infuriating male.
But my mouth goes dry when I think—really think—about what this means. My parents will flip. One of us will have to move. We barely have a relationship to stand on. Yeah, maybe he jumped the gun.
If by jumping the gun I mean holding off for twelve years.
“Not a mistake,” I say, though. Because I can’t believe it was. I won’t. There’s no way the two of us would each wait twelve years for someone who hated us if it wasn’t meant to be.
He leans his forehead against mine.
“It doesn’t change things. I wore your mark already—on my heart.”
Trey relaxes. “I wore yours, too.” He taps his chest. We’re quiet a moment, his hand smoothing over my bare skin, up my hip and back down again.
“I can’t believe the outfit you wore last night,” he says out of nowhere. “Or, shit, the one you wore at the fight.”
“Oh yeah?” I prop myself up. “You like my little costumes?”
“Are they that, though? Costumes?” His eyes pierce mine.
I blink. “Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not like that’s what I wear to work.”
He just stares at me and I swallow. Of course Trey sees too much. Right through my lies, straight into my soul. After a long silence, I swallow. “All those outfits are just for fun. They’re not the real me.”
“Aren’t they?”
“No.” I frown, looking away, and he lays a hand on my cheek, guiding me back to face him. “They’re just for fun,” I whisper.
He presses his lips together, blows out a breath, and then it’s his turn to look away. Right at my closet, as if he has x-ray vision and can pick out all the freaky costumes I’m hiding in there.
