Bonds of Courage

by Lynda Aicher

  This was what she needed. Holden open and giving before her. Gone to everything but what she gave him. Bound and spread with the looped end of the anal beads dangling from his hole, a condom covering his erection, he was completely vulnerable.

  Her breath shuddered out of her as she climbed on top of him. His flesh was hot and slick beneath her hands. His heart pounded into her palm. The air was luxurious on her skin, naked now except for the boots. Free.

  She stood on the panels she’d pulled out of the side of the table. He could only take what she gave him. Accept everything she wanted.

  She adjusted her position and lowered herself onto his hard cock. There was a moment of wishing, a thought of how good it would feel to take him bare. But that wouldn’t happen. That never happened.

  Her head dropped back, mouth parted in ecstasy as she took him all. He filled her completely in a way only he did. Like no one had until him. The urgency and turmoil that had hammered the driving need to rein in her life was quiet now.

  She wiped the damp hair from his brow. Traced the arcs of his brow. Marveled at the line of his jaw marred by the scar that cut across his chin. His lips were parted, red and perfect on him.

  She kissed them. Drank him in and rode him.

  His gasps caressed her neck. His moans fed her soul.

  Sitting up, she rolled her hips and found her own pleasure. The music pounded out a beat that she matched. Slow and heavy, sultry but cutting. She pinched her nipples, found the pain and rode that too.

  “Beautiful.”

  The deep word tore her eyes open to hold on Holden’s. Dazed but clear, dark with lust, he watched her, the truth of his emotions engraved in his expression. It sent her higher, gave her power. Brought her closer than she wanted to be, but already was.

  “Fuck, Vanessa.” He rocked his hips, the little movement all he had. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

  She wasn’t. Far from it. But she’d take it now. Pull it in and add it to the rush.

  “I wanna taste you,” he begged, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips. “Please, V. God.” He gasped, eyes scrunched closed, and she held his balls in her grip as she lowered herself, once, twice, three, four, five long, slow times onto his dick.

  She released the full globes and found her clit. She was close now. So was he. Their breaths sawed through the air and she inhaled a deep gust of their mingled arousal. Sex pure and blatant.

  Lost in him as she’d never let herself be with anyone. She let go, found her own space and gave herself to him as he’d done for her.

  Reaching behind her, she clasped the small ring, increased her pace until her thighs protested and he shuddered beneath her. Then she dove.

  “Come, Holden.”

  He grunted, and she yanked the beads from him in one hard tug, dropping them to the ground as he bucked, jerked and came.

  “That’s it,” she encouraged, her voice gritty as she held back, too enthralled by his release. Face contorted, muscled clenched, tendons bulging—he was pure pleasure.

  His roar set her free. She cried out, her higher pitch blending with his roughened note in perfect harmony. Together they found the quiet. They found their peace.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The solid thump of Holden’s heart beat against her ear, his breathing even and deep. They’d managed to clean up and crawl into the bed long ago, exhausted and sated. Yet it didn’t matter to her body. Her mind was racing in an attempt to log and file everything that had changed so fast. But no amount of analyzing, justifying or dismissing made it all okay.

  She lifted up to squint at the clock, a sigh escaping. Her gaze went to Holden and she shifted to study his face. His arm slipped from her shoulders, a grumble matching the slight frown that drew his brows down before he relaxed again.

  Everything about him was softer in sleep. All of his excess energy was resting or maybe regenerating. She smiled. That was more likely. His lips were parted, jaw lax. Although he was freshly shaven when he’d arrived, she knew her fingertips would be able to detect the stubble in the morning.

  In the morning.

  Her chest pinched, stomach flipping. What am I doing?

  She inched away, careful not to wake him. A shiver raked her, a punishment for leaving his warmth. She drew his shirt on. The soft fabric that held the scent of him was more inviting than the robe that hung in the bathroom.

  She found her way in the dark, the glow of the moon lighting her way. The stairs creaked on her way up and the hardwood was cold on her feet. She tucked her hands under her arms to ward off the chill as she stared into the open refrigerator. She should be hungry. The salad she’d had at lunch should’ve worn off hours ago. Yet nothing interested her.

  Giving up, she grabbed a bottle of water and a chocolate bar, then shut the door. She blinked away the light halos that lingered as she ran a hand through her hair. She looked up and froze. The shot of fear shifted to not quite relief but more like acceptance. Of course he’d wake up and follow her upstairs.

  “I thought you were sleeping,” she said, handing him the water she was holding before she opened the fridge and grabbed another.

  “I thought you were, too.” He leaned his hip against the counter. The glow of the appliance clocks, along with the moonlight, let her see his smile, a sleepy, sexy thing that shouldn’t twist up her insides like it did. Bare-chested with his cargo shorts hanging low on his hips, snap undone, he was the epitome of what she’d never wanted.

  She shrugged before twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a drink. If he saw her hand shaking, he didn’t say anything. Somehow he always seemed to understand what she needed. It was irritating. But if that were true, why did her pulse increase and her chest tighten whenever he was near? Anxiety? Definitely, but she refused to analyze the reason for it.

  He stepped up and lifted her to sit on the counter. She should protest. Jump down and send him away before he hurt her, yet it wasn’t in her. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. And that was the crux of the problem.

  He moved between her legs, arms encircling her shoulders as he braced his forehead against hers. “I’m here,” he said. A soft confirmation of everything that hadn’t been spoken in the playroom. Everything she’d asked for, he’d freely given.

  Her smile hurt. “I know.”

  “Can I help?”

  Her head wobbled against his as she wavered between acceptance and rejection. Of course he didn’t push her to tell him what was wrong. She could’ve justified his nosiness to kick him out. But no, he was simply “here.” For her.

  “It’s already too late,” she admitted in answer to his question. She only understood that after the words were out. It really was too late. Against every warning and truth that she knew about men, especially men like him, she’d gone and fallen for him anyway.

  “For what?”

  Everything. She wet her lips before leaning in to give him a soft kiss. Even that hurt. He was too close, yet she had no idea how to push him away. Just like she had no idea how to keep her life from avoiding the train wreck that was certainly coming.

  She sat back, the water providing a perfect excuse for some space. He took the bottle from her when she was done, swallowed some down, then set it next to his.

  “There was a minor security leak at The Den,” she told him in a rush.

  “What?” He frowned. “Is everything okay?”

  The erratic beat of her heart hitched over the sense that it was somehow her fault. It wasn’t rational, but keeping him safe was her responsibility. She didn’t have to tell him what had happened. He’d probably never find out otherwise. Yet withholding the information wouldn’t help him either.

  “It’s taken care of,” she assured him. “But it involved a rumor of you being at the club.”

  His eyes went wide and he ste
pped back. The small retreat stabbed at her heart. For the first time, the reality of him leaving hit her. For all the pushing she’d done to see if he would walk away, she no longer wanted him to.

  He scrubbed a hand over his mouth before dropping it to his side. “Is it out then? Do I need to meet with Segar?” His resolute tone held that strength she admired.

  “It was just a rumor with no substance.” She ran a hand up his arm, relief easing her tense muscles when he didn’t pull away. “Your career isn’t at risk. I promise. But I thought you should know.”

  He studied her for a long moment that threatened to tumble her confidence. No matter what he did, she wouldn’t regret telling him. It was his risk, and he couldn’t defend himself if he didn’t know all of the dangers.

  “You’re sure it’s nothing?” He stepped forward, his hands coming to rest on her thighs.

  “Promise.”

  “Then I trust you.” His eyes showed the depth of his words. Even in this, outside of the playroom, with something that could affect his career, he trusted her. It was powerful and scary and more than she could deal with right then.

  “So you’re gone next week?” she asked, proud that her voice was even.

  His mouth thinned. “Yeah. Intensive camp. I leave in the morning.”

  She should’ve expected that. Hell, she’d scheduled numerous interviews for players attending intensive camps. “Local?” There was a really good one not far from Minneapolis.

  “Yeah.”

  Her nod was slow as she processed why that annoyed her. It shouldn’t. They didn’t have a relationship. Not really, she tried to tell herself, and failed. “I rounded up some more people to help Liv with the carnival stuff.” Her subject change didn’t help her colliding emotions. It only reminded her of what had triggered all the unwanted feelings and uncharacteristic neediness that plagued her now.

  “Great,” he said, smile wide. “Who?”

  Her chuckle sounded pained even to her. She had to tell him this too. He would put the pieces together on his own anyway. “Some of the other partners at The Den said they’d help build some games and donate prizes. The resident computer genius volunteered to make a new website for the center, too.”

  “Wow. Thanks.” He tilted her chin up so he could kiss her before his smile took over his face again. “This is going to be big. We’re getting enough autographed items and donations that we’re also hoping to do a silent auction.”

  “That’s great.” It was—for Liv. Just the thought of the event had her chest shrinking back to the tight little capacity that barely let her breathe. But she wouldn’t let her own fears dampen Holden’s enthusiasm. “You’ve really gone all out for this.”

  He shrugged, dismissing the work he’d done. “Heidi and Liv took over most of it. Now you’ve found the carnival crew.” He chuckled. “They do know this is a kid’s carnival, right?”

  Visions of men lined up in leather with whips and handcuffs next to kids with cotton candy and sticky fingers forced a weak chuckle from her. “Yes. I made that clear.”

  His arms encircled her, his skin warm against her cheek when he held her close. Somehow, her legs and arms were wrapped around him, ankles hooked together, hands clasped, locking him in. The quiet settled in the room, a comfortable peace she wanted to hide in, even if he was the catalyst to the pending crash in her life.

  He stroked her back, her hair. Easy circles that repeated all the things his actions had said downstairs. A part of her didn’t want to hear them. Yet the part that had asked, the part that never asked anyone for anything personal, reveled in his answers.

  This wasn’t her. She didn’t need support. Didn’t need someone to hold her up. So why was she leaning on Holden right now? She always stood on her own, carried others. Since she’d been four years old and her mother had told her life didn’t cater to excuses. If someone did something to her, she must’ve done something to cause it.

  So what did she do to cause this?

  “Come on,” Holden said, easily picking her up and carrying her out of the kitchen. “Things will look different in the morning.”

  She didn’t argue or object. Instead, she just held on as he took them back downstairs. For once, she trusted someone to take care of her. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about surviving the future.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Fuck, Hauke. What in the hell got into you this summer?”

  Holden lifted his head to study his approaching teammate. Sweat dripped onto the ice and his thighs screamed for mercy, along with the shoulder that’d taken the brunt of a recent check to the boards, but he’d never felt better.

  He thought of the rather large plug that’d been wedged into his ass last weekend, compliments of Vanessa, and shot the goalie a devious grin. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

  “That good, huh?” Martini wiggled his brows.

  Holden laughed, reached over the boards for one of the many bottles lining the small ledge in front of the bench and squirted the water into his mouth. His silence was better than any comeback he could make up.

  “Fuck, man.” Rylie came to a stop next to them, ice shavings flying. “I need some of that shit. You’ve been on fire since July.”

  “Right.” Holden put the bottle back and shoved his glove on. “Like you need more shit.”

  If he’d known what a little dominance in his life would do for his game, he would’ve been all over it years ago. Vanessa didn’t control his life, but she did own his orgasms now. The days of beating off on a whim were long gone. The resulting focus he put on other things quieted his mind and helped his game.

  “Pussy, maybe.” Rylie flashed the grin that had charmed more women than Holden could count.

  “Pussy is what gets you in trouble,” Martini said before he slapped his mask back on and skated away. The man had twelve years of experience and bitterness built from two failed marriages over the younger man.

  Rylie shrugged it off, starting a slow skate backward. “There’s never a problem if you don’t let them hang around.” He spun around and took off toward the net.

  That was exactly the opposite of what Holden had discovered. Getting the right one to stay had made all the difference for him.

  He glanced around the rink at the twelve guys currently on the ice. Three weeks into August, and most of the players were back in town. Official practice didn’t start until mid-September, but everyone was ramping up for the season now. The hard truth that positions were never guaranteed no matter what kind of contract you had kept every man fighting for his spot.

  Given the many comments he’d received from other players, his place was more secure than it’d ever been. He had Vanessa to thank for that.

  The last month had been more of the forward and back when it came to their personal relationship. The only place they still seemed on solid ground was in her playroom.

  Some man, or men, had skewed her trust in males in general, that much he understood. What and who was still buried, and maybe he’d never know. All that really mattered was if the damage went too deep or if she’d ever trust him enough to give him everything—inside and outside the playroom.

  He was working on that, being patient until she was ready to commit. She’d been traveling a lot, and he got the feeling she was using it as an avoidance tactic to some extent. Her nightly calls were the one thing that gave him hope in what he thought she felt but didn’t want to admit.

  “You playing, Hauke?” Walters taunted as he skated by. “Or are you gonna stand there picking your ass all day?”

  Getting his ass beat, maybe. And that was saved for his Mistress.

  He loved this. The camaraderie and unit he’d never found off the ice. He charged down the rink after Walters, a grin on his face. He’d hear nothing but shit if any of these guys ever found out
about his little kink. Oddly enough, that didn’t bother him anymore. He was proud of Vanessa. Proud of what they were together.

  Now he just needed her to be proud of them too.

  * * *

  “Come on, V,” Liv urged. “You have got to see what your guys made.” Like usual, her excitement was impossible to resist, as was the bounce in her step as she dragged Vanessa down the hallway of the youth center. “They went way overboard.” She grinned over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  She swung a door open and barged into the gym. Vanessa’s heels clicked on the hardwood floor, the sound echoing off the high ceiling. She’d come straight from the office after Liv called, bubbling over the games Jake and Deklan had delivered that afternoon, along with Seth, Tyler and Rock. It’d taken five trucks to get everything there.

  “Can you believe these?” Liv waved a hand at the line of booths and games scattered around the room.

  Vanessa stopped to stare at the collection of over-the-top carnival games. There were over a dozen full booths made out of wood, painted in bright colors with names written in detailed letters across the top. Ring Toss, Duck Pond, To the Races—and the list went on.

  “Is that a dunk tank?” she asked, her mouth gaping.

  “Yes!” Liv nodded, her grin so big her cheeks must’ve ached. “I’m hoping we can get some of the players to volunteer to sit in it. The tickets would go like crazy for that.”

  Vanessa took another look at all the games and had to laugh. The guys had really outdone themselves.

  “Oh.” Liv grabbed Vanessa’s wrist and hauled her out of the gym before Vanessa could object. “You’ve got to see this, too.”

  “Now what?” She had little choice but to follow her sister as she was pulled into Liv’s office. She was smiling though. It was impossible not to enjoy Liv’s excitement.

  Her sister plopped down in her chair and grabbed her computer mouse, clicking around. “Look.” Liv waved her over and pointed at the screen. “Isn’t this great?”