by Brynley Bush
That gets his attention. “She said that? What did you say?”
“That it was up to her, but until she did, I was still her Dom and she still had to follow my protocol.”
“You’re an asshole,” he says, shaking his head as he takes another drink.
“Look, I know your MO with Ava is to treat her with kid gloves, but that’s not what she needs. Somewhere along the line she’s gotten the idea that she’s fragile and weak. You can see it in the vulnerability she carries around with her like a shield and the way she holds everything in. She needs someone to push her boundaries a little and let her prove to herself that she’s strong.”
“And you know all of this after a week and a half with her?” he scoffs. “What makes you so sure that’s what she needs or even wants, for that matter?”
“Because I’ve never seen a woman as wet as Ava on the receiving end of a punishment,” I say quietly.
Emmett looks at me in disbelief. “Ava?” He shakes his head bewilderedly. “Is that why you chose the riding event for her?”
“I chose the riding event for her because I couldn’t stand the thought of her mouth around another man’s cock,” I say honestly. “But yes, I thought that event would be the best for her too. She’s got a masochist streak, and she’s so fucking responsive. I’ve never seen a girl come so hard or so easily.”
Emmett’s looking at me like I’ve grown another head.
“Except for last night,” I concede. “Something happened when she was on that saddle, and I need to know what it is so I can help her move past it.”
Emmett stares at me as if weighing his words carefully. After several minutes, he finally says, “Ava’s been through more shit than you can possibly imagine. I don’t expect a guy like you to understand—in fact, I’m not even sure you’re capable of it—but if I’m easy on her, that’s why.”
“What happened to her?” I ask, my voice steely. I want to kill whoever put that pain and distrust I see too often in her eyes.
“That’s Ava’s story to tell, not mine. But just because something appears to be a certain way doesn’t mean that’s how it is. I can tell you care about her, even if it’s only so you can win. She lets very few people past the fortress she’s constructed around her emotions, and if you want to be one of them, you’ll have to earn her trust. And I’m guessing putting her on a saddle and telling her to make herself climax in front of a crowd didn’t do that.”
I scrub my hand across my face in frustration. “It was part of the game, part of the scene. I didn’t ask her to do anything the other submissives didn’t do.”
“She’s not like the other submissives, dammit! Don’t you see that? You left her up there alone, which in her mind was probably equivalent to desertion. You had her whipped. And then she had to make herself come, for fuck’s sake.”
“What difference does it make who makes her come—if it’s me or her or you or fucking Anthony, for God’s sakes, whoever the hell he is!”
Emmett’s face hardens. “Did you say that to her?” he asks, his voice lethal.
I shrug. “Yeah.”
He catches me completely off guard, his fist connecting with my ribs and almost knocking me off the barstool. “You fucking bastard!” he hisses. He drains the rest of his whiskey in one long pull and slams the empty glass down. “You don’t deserve Ava.” He stalks out of the bar, leaving me to wonder what the hell just happened.
* * * *
Ava still isn’t talking the next morning.
“The group event is this afternoon,” I say to her as I button the cuffs of my shirt. She’s still in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. “It’s some sort of paintball game. A shuttle will be here to pick us up at one thirty. I’ll be back at one. Be ready if you want to compete.”
I want to tell her that I want her to stay, but I don’t think it would matter. Besides, this has to be her decision. After I leave the suite, I go looking for Logan. I find him in the makeshift office he’s made for himself in one of the small conference rooms.
“Hey!” he says, looking up as I come in. “I was just about to come look for you. I need your scene with Ava to use with today’s group event for the episode tonight.”
I sit down. “I don’t have one.”
“What do you mean, you don’t have one? Even though you guys didn’t earn any extra points, you and Ava are still in fourth place after Western Night. You’re killing it, man. And your scenes so far? Shit. It almost makes me wish I were in the games! You and Ava together…” He trails off, shaking his head. “You’re fucking volatile, and I mean that in the best possible way.”
“Ava’s not talking to me. She’s thinking about quitting.”
Logan’s jaw drops. “What? Why?”
“I don’t know,” I say heavily. “Something happened during the last scene, and it’s somehow my fault, although hell if I know how. But regardless, other than her going off on me right after the event, she’s barely said two words to me since then. I’ve got absolutely nothing recorded. I need more time.”
“You haven’t got more time,” he says flatly. “I can’t make any special exceptions for you, Roman, although you know I would if I could.” He studies me closely. “I think you actually like her.”
“I do like her,” I agree.
Logan smirks. I roll my eyes.
“As a submissive,” I clarify. “She’s everything I want. She’s got an innocent vulnerability that makes me fucking hard, but she’s feisty too, which makes me even harder. And she’s responsive as hell.” I grin at the thought.
“So she still ‘intrigues’ you?” he asks, his insinuation clear.
“Yes, she still intrigues me. Maybe even more than before. But I’m not falling for her, if that’s what you’re getting at. You know what happened with Natasha.” My voice hardens. “I’ll never let that happen again. But I’m not ready for the games to end. I want more time with Ava. If she doesn’t quit, that is.”
“Hang on.” Logan searches through some files on his computer. “Here it is. You’d left the camera on in your suite Friday night. We actually have the conversation between the two of you after Western Night. You could use that.”
I stare at him incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me? She was totally pissed at me! How is that going to help?
“Well, it probably won’t,” he admits. “But it’s all you’ve got. And if you don’t have a scene, you don’t continue.”
I shrug. I don’t have a choice. “Fine. Use it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ava
When Roman arrives back at our suite at one o’clock, I’m dressed and ready for the paintball games in the required two-piece swimsuit and sneakers, with a pair of khaki shorts to cover the skimpy bottom of my bikini. I’ve had plenty of time to think over the past day and a half, and although I’m not completely sure I want to continue in the games, I can’t pull the trigger on leaving either. I’d picked Anthony’s name as my safe word so I’d remember exactly what I was giving up if I was tempted to drop out of the games. And as I’d anticipated, just thinking about him is enough to stop me from quitting quite yet. The humiliation of Friday night haunts me, but the images of what I saw and the memory of the vile and unconscionable way Anthony betrayed me that day two years ago in a warehouse outside Seattle are worse. And if I’m perfectly honest with myself, up until the last event there was something liberating and even a little thrilling about participating in the games. They’ve stirred something inside me I never in a million years dreamed existed, and I’m intrigued enough to want to know more.
Sitting on that saddle trying to make myself climax while a man I barely know whipped me had been awful, but I know deep down I can’t completely blame Roman. I haven’t been exactly honest with him, and he has no idea I’m not like the rest of the girls here. He didn’t know I’ve never even had a man inside me, much less participated in games like this. As far as he’s concerned, I’m an experienced submissive or, at the very l
east, knowledgeable enough about the lifestyle to have known what I was getting myself into when I submitted my application.
The truth of the matter is that in addition to the utter humiliation of that scene, I’d let myself fall a little for Roman Castile, and as a result I’d felt betrayed by him for doing what he was supposed to do as my Dom for the games. That had been my mistake, and one I won’t make again if I stay. Roman’s nothing but a partner for the games and a means to an end—ruining my stepfather’s career. After the show’s over, I’ll probably never even see him again.
Before I met Roman, I’d had no idea being with a man could be like this—so potent and all-consuming and exhilaratingly wonderful. But like an idiot, as soon as he’d given me a taste of passion, I’d confused the awakening of my buried sensuality for an attraction to him.
There’s definitely chemistry between us, but it clearly could never be anything more. He’s arrogant, controlling, intimidating, and unyielding, and as a true Dom I’m sure he wants someone to share this lifestyle with him, not a pretend submissive who’s independent, stubborn, and cut out for an entirely different life. And although he may have ignited me sexually, I’m not looking for a relationship, particularly not with someone like Roman. My plans could never include a man who would take over and make me as weak as my mother. I’ve got to stay focused on my goal, which, after hopefully ruining my stepfather’s career by participating in the games, consists of getting a job and moving on with my life—alone.
“It looks like you’re ready for the games this afternoon. Does that mean you’ve decided to stay?” Roman asks as he takes in my outfit.
“For now,” I concede.
He nods slightly in acknowledgment and goes into the bedroom to change.
An hour later, we’re in a plush, air-conditioned shuttle bus, heading north out of Las Vegas. We pass a sign directing us to Mount Charleston, and several miles later the shuttle turns down a hidden gravel driveway at the top of a hill, finally stopping at a clearing surrounded by woods. We all get off the bus, taking in the picturesque views.
Unlike the arid atmosphere of Las Vegas, it’s cooler here, and the mountains around us are breathtaking. Although we’re probably only about a half hour from the Strip, it feels like we’re a million miles away from the lights and sounds of Vegas. The location is heavily wooded, and the open areas are lush with wildflowers. However, while it’s been easy to forget that the other group events at the hotel were being televised since the cameras are discreetly hidden, ironically here in the wilderness it’s glaringly apparent; cameras are set up everywhere. Roman’s words echo in my head, and I remind myself to ignore the cameras and focus on the game.
After a few minutes, Logan gathers us together to explain the rules for today’s event.
“We’re down to ten couples,” he announces. “After today, there will only be eight. Our paintball event today will consist of three individual games. We’re on private property, so we can do whatever we want within reason.” He smiles wickedly. “The fields have been marked off by rope, and all contestants must stay within the marked boundaries at all times. If you leave the designated playing field during a heat, you’ll be disqualified. Is everyone with me so far?”
We all nod, and I can feel a tiny flare of excitement. If nothing else, it’s invigorating being out of the hotel and outside for a change.
“In deference to our submissives and their lack of protective attire, the paintball guns we’ll be using are low-pressure, meaning they won’t hurt or bruise as much as a regular paintball gun. There will be different-color paint to keep track of who’s been hit in each game, and each round will last fifteen minutes. Is everyone ready?”
There’s an air of excited anticipation among the contestants, and everyone cheers loudly. Tessa flashes me a smile and winks, and I wish I could be more like her—open and confident and ready for whatever the world throws at her.
“Our first heat is called Trophy Hunter, and this game will pit each Dom and sub pair against each other. Doms, your goal is to hit your submissives in the rear, crotch, or breasts. At the end of the fifteen minutes, where your submissive has paint corresponds to what trophy she’ll receive for the next round. If you hit her in the ass, she’ll wear a plug. If you tag her in the front, she’ll get an egg vibrator. If you shoot her chest, she’ll sport clamps.” The submissives shift uncomfortably.
“Submissives, you will also be armed and can defend yourselves. Every shot that hits your Dom—regardless of where—negates one of his shots. It will be the submissive’s choice which shot is canceled out. So if your Dom hits your ass and breasts, and you hit him once, you choose whether you take the plug or clamps in the next round. If you manage to shoot your Dom three times, you’re safe, at least for the next round. Do you all understand?”
“Hell, yeah!” Bella shouts. “That means the submissives have the advantage for once. Get ready to go down, Sir!” she taunts Karl good-naturedly.
“Don’t be so sure, little one,” he says smugly. “I’m even better with a gun than with a lasso.”
We all laugh at that, and Logan smiles. “Doms can only shoot their own submissives, and submissives can only shoot their own Doms.” He sounds an air horn. “When you hear this sound, the game will begin. Submissives will have a thirty-second lead. When the air horn sounds again, the Doms may go. When the air horn sounds a third time, the heat is over, and Doms and subs will return to this clearing to accept their trophies.”
Roman leans over to me and says under his breath, “I plan to play full-out, Avalon. If you don’t want to compete, then say your safe word now, and it ends. But until you do, I won’t make exceptions or go easy on you. That’s not how this works. Do you understand?”
I nod mutely. It makes me feel oddly better knowing that Roman isn’t going to treat me any differently. And after being stuck in the hotel with nothing but my own thoughts for the past few days, I’m actually looking forward to running off some pent-up energy playing paintball.
I’m also competitive, and Roman just threw down the gauntlet.
“By all means,” I agree. “A false victory isn’t nearly as sweet. And I intend to compete the next round paint-free,” I add confidently.
Roman flashes me that killer grin that makes everything in me melt, and I feel myself soften toward him a little bit more. Although he’s gorgeous as sin, it’s that grin of his and his irreverent sense of humor that make me genuinely like him, not just lust after him. And when he smiles at me like that, he almost seems human.
The air horn sounds, and I take off running with the rest of the submissives. I’ve left my shorts on the bus, and I run quickly but carefully through the wooded area so I don’t scrape myself on the low-hanging branches of the juniper trees. A bikini doesn’t provide much protection, and the thought of a paintball, even a low-pressure one, hitting my bare flesh gives me added incentive to elude Roman’s fire. I decide my best offense is a good defense, so I scramble up into a small tree and wait.
The sound of the air horn splits the air again, and a few minutes later I see Karl, Shawn, and Luke stealthily walk beneath me. After a few more minutes, Roman appears. I watch him walk right past me, and I let out the breath I was holding when he disappears back out into the meadow that’s populated with a variety of barricades and bunkers. I hear the sound of pounding feet, and Desiree darts past with Stefan hot on her heels. There’s a pop, and I can see the splat of paint on the butt of Desiree’s swimsuit. She squeals, fires a few wild shots back at him, and then takes off running again. The air is filled with the sound of paintball guns firing, along with shrieks of laughter and yelps of surprise, and the occasional swear word from a Dom who’s been hit, but I bide my time in my tree. With any luck, I can wait Roman out up here for the entire fifteen minutes.
The shot takes me completely off guard, hitting me square in the ass and almost knocking me out of the tree. I turn around in surprise and see Roman salute me from below, a diabolical grin on his fac
e. Shit! I’ve got to get out of this tree.
Adrenaline surges through me as I swing down from the tree and hit the ground running. He fires a few more shots, but the foliage blocks his fire. I run as fast as I can, weaving in and out of the aspen trees as he runs behind me in hot pursuit. I burst into the open field and roll behind a barricade of tires before he emerges from the woods. He looks around the field, calmly hunting for me, and I feel a little thrill of arousal along with the adrenaline at the sight of him, all hard muscle and unyielding determination.
But unless I want to spend the next round running around with a plug in my ass, I can’t just sit here admiring Roman’s amazing physique. I have to take my advantage while I have it. With a grin, I take aim, fire, and hit him square in the middle of those amazing abs.
He swears and looks around in surprise, his gaze scarily intense. I wouldn’t want to be truly hunted by him. I duck out of sight, my back pressed against the tires and my breath coming hard, hoping he didn’t spot me. I hear his footsteps before I see him, and I take off running again, hoping to make it to the next barricade—an old Jeep that will provide better protection—before he can fire at me again. His shot hits me in the calf, but I keep running, diving into the back of the old car. My body encounters hard flesh, and I scream as I scramble backward. I see Megan lying prone along the seat, her gun trained on the woods, as a paintball hits me along the side of my left breast.
I fire a few shots in Roman’s direction, but it’s too late. The air horn sounds, and Roman saunters over to the Jeep, holding his hand out to help me down. I take it begrudgingly.
“You’re not a bad shot when you have time to aim,” he says. I try to pull my hand away, but he’s not having it, and he grips it firmly in his as we walk back toward the clearing. “And you’re clever.” He stops and runs a finger through the still-wet blotch of paint on my breast. With the paint on his finger, he inscribes a big red “R” across the middle of my stomach, marking me as his. “Just not clever enough,” he adds, his eyes sparkling.
