Elicit: (Decadence After Dark Book 5)

by M. Never

  “You’re going to come for me, baby. So many times. Tonight, we’re going to soar.”

  He tauntingly pinches the two little clamps attached to each end of the chain before saturating my nipples with saliva and then capturing both rigid peaks between the metal teeth. The initial bite stings, causing my whole body to tense. To cling to the stiff beads and the vibrator buried deep inside both holes.

  I moan in exquisite torture as Jett yanks teasingly on the chain.

  “Stay with me, little bird. We’re not done yet.” He squeezes another clamp in front of my glassy eyes before running the steel tip down a straight line from my belly button to the top of my slit. “I’m going to enjoy this. I hope you weren’t too fond of this thong.” He yanks and tiny pearls explode all over the floor.

  “I was,” I flirt. “Now, you’re just going to have to buy me a new one.”

  “Robin, I’ll buy you anything you want.” He clamps my clit, and I squeal in surprise. “As long as I get to hear that sound whenever I want. As long as I get to keep you.”

  I inhale a sharp breath as my body adjusts to the severe sensations and his weighty words.

  Don’t say things you don’t mean for the sake of just getting me off.

  “God, I’m a fucking slave for you.” He squeezes my tits, and the abrasive clamps make it feel like my nipples are going to explode.

  “Jett!” I plead.

  “I love to hear you.” He releases my breasts, and I pant in agony. “But tonight, I want silence.” He picks up the last item on the bed. I eye him warily as he lifts a black leather ball gag to my face. “I’ll never hurt you. But I want you mine. All fucking mine.”

  I have no idea what he means by that as I part my lips and let him slip the red ball into my mouth. The first taste catches me off guard. Cherry? I suck it, and the sweet taste of sugar runs over my taste buds. An oversized piece of hard candy is what he chose to gag me with. Only Jett.

  “You couldn’t be any more perfect even if I dreamed you into existence.” He looks as if he’s possessed.

  He then flicks the vibrator on, and I scream, the gag muffling the tormenting sound. Everything constricts. Every captured muscle and every burning fiber as vibrations shiver through both shafts sending catastrophic quakes to the tips of my every limb.

  It’s total body stimulation. I suck air through my nose ravenously as a climax ignites. I come hard and fast, taking us both by surprise.

  “Holy shit.” Jett’s aqua eyes blaze as bright as my core, a residual kindling of my orgasm still present. I sag in the ropes, helpless and bleeding nonstop arousal.

  Jett grabs my face and forces me to look up.

  “That was just the first,” he rasps. “I want you to watch. I want you to look in that mirror and watch yourself every time you come. I want you to see what I see. I want you to see how beautiful you are when you really let go. When you’re caught off guard. What you look like when you’re totally free.”

  His hand travels down my body, his fingertips grazing the pearl necklaces draped over my chest, my naked abdomen, and my clamped clit. I shudder from the internal tremors and his light touch. “Again.” He pumps the vibrator, causing more friction, calling on another climax. “Eyes open.”

  I whine loudly around the gag, my body succumbing. Tightening, tensing, my pussy and ass sucking the rubbery shaft until I’m exploding around it once more. Oh god, my eyes tear and my limbs shake as the clamps pinch and the toy tortures me.

  I try to watch. I try to see what he sees, but my vision is blurry.

  “You are beautiful.” Jett grips the vibrator, thrusting it until I’m hot-pressed to another boiling point. I jerk spastically.

  “Watch yourself.” He halts, running the chain threateningly through his fingertips. I glare into the mirror—an overworked, underappreciated, abused shell is all I see.

  “Whatever you see is not the truth.” He tugs on the puppet string, my clit and nipples straining. I stretch my body as far as it will go, chasing after some reprieve.

  I groan tormentedly as Jett pushes me past all my limits. Demanding more of me. Demanding everything.

  The tears finally escape my eyes. Is this what he wants to see?

  “Stay with me.” His statement is stern. I slide my guarded, watery gaze to his. My skin is flushed, I’m out of breath, and my cheeks are redder than apples.

  “You are never more beautiful or more mine than when you’re free.”

  He continuously yanks, commanding another implosion from my exhausted body.

  The strain on my sore nipples and clit combined with the relentless buzz of the vibrator and unrelenting massage of every square inch of my pelvic and anal walls induces me to detonate again. Cherry-flavored spit saturates the gag.

  My limbs feel like a thousand pounds while my head is as light as a feather.

  I whimper debilitated as Jett gropes me, taking full advantage of my physically and emotionally incapacitated state.

  Jett said we were going to soar, and he was so right because I feel like I’m high—drugged, stoned, tranqed, blazed.

  “Do you know why I don’t care if you fuck other men? Because I know when you come with them you only feel it here.” He cups my pussy, and I wince from the contact with the clamp. “But when I make you come. You not only feel it here”—he sinks one finger inside me, sliding it right up against the rubbery shaft—“you feel it here”—he withdraws his hand and places it on my chest, under the pearls—“and here.” He then touches my forehead before kissing it lovingly. No one has ever touched me so affectionately before. “They can have your body. I’m the one who reigns over your entire being.”

  I only have the strength to respond to him with my pained eyes. What does he see? Is it really me? Who is that person? I wish he could tell me.

  With two quick tugs, he frees me, catching me as I fall listlessly

  into his arms.

  “One more.” He removes the gag and tastes the cherry flavor left lingering on my lips. “One more time for me.” Then out comes the vibrator before he climbs onto the mattress, drawing me with him. “I want to feel how wet you are. I want to feel you with nothing between us.” Jett lays on his back and urges me to sit on his straining cock. It’s a mind-numbing torture. My pussy is so tender yet still ferociously ravenous. I moan, oversexed, lustfully, and loudly as I ride him. The two of us engaging in sheer unadulterated pleasure. The hard feel of his protruding cock strokes my center at the perfect angle, the clamps upping the ante with their erotic pinch. The balls of his piercing aggravating my enflamed tissue.

  Jett stretches out beneath me, reaping everything I have to give. “Make me come, baby. Make me fucking come.” Jett looks and sounds like he’s on another planet. I ride him harder, faster, until our cries are deafening. We come together, spasms snapping through our bodies like electric shocks. Currents of galvanizing pleasure continually passing between us, connecting us in a way I never thought possible. Never thought was possible for me.

  When the earthquakes finally stop shaking the room, I collapse. Dead, done, gone.

  I have been fucked a lot of different ways but never, ever like that.

  Jett rolls me over onto my back, my whole universe throbbing. He shoves his tongue down my throat and swallows my suffering sounds as he unclamps my most sensitive parts, caressing each area gently as the blood rushes back to the surface.

  I know what’s coming next. The first time he did it, it threw me for a loop.

  Once I’m relaxed, Jett hauls me into his arms and cocoons himself around me. He likes to cuddle. I’m sure all night if I’d let him. But I can never sleep after sex, no matter how satisfying. So I usually just listen to him drift off and then sneak out of the room.

  I lay next to him, secure in his grasp, trying to process everything that happened tonight. Everything he said. “They can have your body. I’m the one who reigns over your entire being.”

  I dissect those words. Is he right? Does he reign over me? He
definitely has power, but he called himself a slave. To me? How absurd.

  I’m the subservient, the submissive—the slave.

  I play with his nipple ring as his shallow intakes of air turn into deep, meditative breaths. He’s completely at peace when he sleeps. What I wouldn’t give to experience that. To close my eyes next to a man and simply fall asleep. I lay next to him for hours, absorbing his serenity. Admiring his soft but masculine features. Perfect bone structure, straight nose, plump lips. He’s the beautiful one. Not me. I’m deformed. Maybe not on the outside, but definitely within.

  When I finally become restless, I wiggle out of his grasp. Regardless of how tired my body is, my mind is always on.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” His arm shoots out faster than lightning. “No sneaking away tonight.” He relocks me in an iron hold. “Close your eyes and go to sleep.”

  “I can’t,” I protest.

  “Yes, you can.”

  “Jett, please, I can’t.”

  “London, try. I can count on all my fingers and toes the number of hours you’ve actually slept since you moved in to this house.”

  “I’m not tired,” I argue.

  “Well, I’m not going to let you go lurking around tonight.”

  “I don’t lurk,” I pout. “I bake.”

  “Potatoe, potato,” he pacifies. “And as much as I like your sugary sweets, I like you right here much better.” He nuzzles his nose in my hair. “Now relax,” he hums seductively. “I’ll chase all your monsters away and be here to love you in the morning.”

  Love?

  He ignores my tense reaction, continuously purring sweet nothings in my ear.

  He really is challenging me on every level tonight.

  I reluctantly close my eyes, preparing for my perilous past to invade me.

  To combat the distress, I concentrate fiercely on the low drone of Jett’s hypnotic voice. Envisioning every and any kind of innocent image. Kittens and puppies, flowers and butterflies, unicorns and rainbows. The most calming image is a storm. A snowstorm. Lying beneath a continuous snowfall of sparkling flakes. I find my cold and my warmth, welcoming the darkness for the first time in years before slipping slowly into a rich, deep slumber.

  “LOOK WHO FINALLY DECIDED TO grace us with his presence,” I hassle Kayne as he walks down the stairs in his tan suit and red dress shirt, both pressed perfectly. “How many times did you change until you finally decided on that outfit?”

  “Shut it,” he snaps, concentrating on his phone.

  I laugh. It’s just too fucking easy sometimes.

  “Are we all ready?” he huffs, irked, by the front door. Oh, someone is testy today. I decided last minute to take all the girls into the city with us. While Kayne attends his quarterly numbers meeting with Marc at Expo, the company who handles all of our imports out of Mexico, the girls could blow off some steam shopping on Lexington Ave. On the flip side of running a high-class brothel, we also have a personal brand of tequila that’s distributed across the country. We needed some kind of base business when we put this whole charade together, so we decided if we had free license to break the law, why not do it in a profitable, flashy, self-serving way. The brothel and the tequila proved to be more lucrative than either of us could have ever imagined.

  “Yes, we are all ready. Ladies.” I extend my hand, giving them the green light. Watching them file out the door, I realize someone is missing.

  “Kayne, get the girls in the limo,” I yell as I bound up the stairs two at a time.

  “Where’s the fire?” Alistair asks as I hurry by him in the hallway.

  “Want to avoid midtown traffic”—I spin around as I walk—“and we’re missing someone.”

  “Mmm hmm,” I catch his smug reply. If I weren’t in such a rush, I’d bug him about Amber and then see how pompous he is. Those two. Talk about sexual tension. I don’t know what his deal is with her. The girl practically throws herself at him, and he barely gives her the time of day. Well, she used to throw herself at him. She finally took the hint and backed off, and when she did, his attitude toward her completely changed. Make up your mind, dude. Either you want her, or you don’t. There’s no middle ground. Amber doesn’t seem to be having his wishy washy way. She’s cozying up to a client who’s had his sights set on her for a while. I always know when it’s more than just physical attraction. I can sense it instantaneously. And Amber is one girl who is finally due for her happy ending. She’s been here the longest and is one of the most loyal employees I’ve ever had.

  Alistair is an idiot in my opinion.

  “London?” I knock on her door once I reach it.

  “Come in,” her soft voice flits through the wood.

  I enter to find her sitting in her usual spot, on the cushioned ledge of the bay window. When she sits there, she really does look like a caged bird, staring wistfully through the glass.

  “Everyone is downstairs waiting to leave.” I sit beside her.

  She passes me an apologetic look. “Do you mind if I stay behind? I’m not really up for a trip into the city.”

  “Are you sure? You’ve barely left the house in three months,” I try to persuade her. “Some fresh air might be good.”

  She looks over at me with the saddest eyes to date. Gone is the confident vixen every single one of my clients wants. And the ferocious woman who sets my bed—and my heart—ablaze. The person sitting next to me now is just a girl. A complex, lonely, innocent girl.

  I touch her cheek. One day I’m going to uncover all her secrets. Uncover all the heartache that weighs on her and eradicate it.

  “Can I bring you anything back?”

  London shakes her head lightly. “I have everything I need right here.”

  I’m all you’ll ever need, I want to exclaim, but I play it cool. Emotion floods my chest as I chastely kiss her goodbye.

  “Stay out of trouble.”

  “I can’t make any promises,” she flirts.

  “Don’t give me a reason to punish you,” I threaten playfully.

  “I like being punished.” Her cheeks flush.

  I love to punish you.

  I don’t get the chance to articulate my thought as my name echoes through the house. “JETT!”

  Mr. Cranky Pants is ready to leave.

  “I’ve gotta go.” I spring up, drop one more kiss on her head, then hurry out the door.

  “What’s the issue, man?” Kayne barks as I jog down the stairs.

  “Put a cork in it. I was checking on something.”

  “You mean someone,” he remarks snidely as we cross the glossy foyer.

  “So what if I was? That’s my job.”

  “Job, right.” He closes the front door behind us. “You work overtime with that one.”

  “So what?” I yank on the driver’s side handle of the black stretch limo.

  “So nothing. Just saying.”

  “Just saying what? You obviously have an opinion.” I start the car and check on the girls in the rearview mirror. They’ve already popped the champagne and have the music blasting. I close the privacy window and then pull down the half-mile driveway to the main road.

  The city isn’t far by any means from the elite suburban New Jersey town we reside in. Twenty-five minutes at the most with no traffic. But it’s eight o’clock on a Friday morning. We’re pretty much screwed.

  “My opinion is you have a girlfriend,” Kayne shares passively as he types on his phone.

  “London is not my girlfriend.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Kayne, I don’t get the luxury of having a girlfriend.”

  “A girlfriend? No. Up until three months ago, you had seven girlfriends. Now, you have one.”

  “What are you saying? I’m neglecting my girls?” I ask defensively.

  “Not neglecting them per se. Just not fucking them the same way you used to.”

  “So because I prefer to fuck one woman over seven that makes her my girlfriend?”

  “For you,
yes.”

  “I find it funny you’re labeling my relationships when you’ve never been in one of your own. How can you make the connection on a subject you know nothing about?”

  “Because I’m not an idiot and you’re defensive.”

  “I’m not defensive,” I bite.

  Kayne snickers. “I may not know a thing about relationships, but I sure as hell know you. And with her, you’re different.”

  “I like her. So what?”

  “I don’t give two shits if you marry her. Just don’t let your dick get in the way of the mission. Tomorrow, everything changes. The whole dynamic of our household. I don’t want anyone or anything to jeopardize what we’ve been planning. There are lives at stake, Jett.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that. I know. I’m fully aware of what’s on the line.”

  “I just want to be on the same page.”

  “We’re always on the same page.”

  “Then don’t let your emotions ruin another assignment.” He just had to slip my past mistakes in there.

  “Hey.” I slam my hand on his chest. “That was a low fucking blow. I chose to jeopardize my career because I thought it was the right thing to do. Because a life was at stake. I protected a person I cared about.”

  “And you ended up losing her anyway,” he painfully reminds me. “I don’t want to see the past repeat itself.”

  “It won’t,” I assure him, annoyed.

  Kayne and I drive the rest of the way in silence, with muted pop music and muffled laughter echoing in the background.

  We pull up to Expo just past nine.

  “Hey,” I call as Kayne slides out of the front seat.

  “What?” He slips on a pair of brown aviators.

  “Say hi to your sweetheart for me.”

  “Fuck you.” He flicks me the finger and then slams the door.

  He’s one to bring up girlfriends. He’s been silently stalking Marc’s assistant for a year. Scared shitless to even ask her out. He’s lucky if he can hold a five-minute conversation with her without pissing himself. The man needs to get over his women issues, stat.