by Chloe Cox
She stopped shaking.
She didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, but she knew enough to be freaked out. She knew it would be in full view of those people down there. She knew it would force her to face that. And while there was that rotten, familiar tightness in her chest and her adrenaline was pumping and everything was telling her to run, she knew she could do this. With Chance standing behind her, she could do it. Giving up control to him was the only thing that had felt consistently right, that had freed her when she’d felt most trapped, that allowed her to just…feel.
She trusted him.
“Good girl,” he whispered.
Then he spread her legs. She closed her eyes and felt a cuff go around one ankle, then the other, and saw him attach the tethers to different parts of the railing.
Her legs were staying spread.
Chance let his finger tips dance up the inside of one leg until he reached her sex, bare, the way she knew he’d want it. He swiped his finger down the length of her slit, saying, “Good thinking.”
She clenched, and he laughed.
“You are so much fun, you know that?” he said, whispering into her ear again.
“Don’t tease me,” she said, wavering.
“I’m not teasing you, Lena,” he said. “You’re gonna have to get used to the idea that I like being around you, is all.”
She felt his hand on the back of her neck, holding her delicately, then rubbing her bare back down to her waist, her hips.
“You’re gonna have to get used to the idea that I think you’re fucking amazing,” he said. “In bed and out.”
Lena felt a tug at her waist—the tie that held the wrap dress closed, and on. He was slowly—oh God, so slowly—pulling it loose.
She closed her eyes.
“Actually, sweetheart, you should probably get used to the idea that a whole lot of people think you’re amazing, whether you know it or not,” he said as the tie pulled free. “And I’m taking about Lena, not Simone Maddox.”
Chance was silent as he let the dress slip off her in its own time, the material whispering against her skin as it slid, so slowly it was like another caress.
“But that,” he said softly, “is neither here nor there, at the moment. God. Damn.”
Lena still hadn’t opened her eyes, but Chance’s talk about her naked body would get her every time. She smiled, even as she started to shake again, her arms rattling the cuff clasps on the railing.
“Shhh,” he said, and then his warm hands were on her bare skin again, and the sensation of his touch overwhelmed everything else. Her mind followed him as he trailed down her back, across her stomach, her chest. While he held her breasts, kissed her neck, ran his hands over her hips and down her legs.
“Open your eyes, Lena,” he said finally.
Lena took a deep breath and obeyed. Her eyes swung around wildly, taking it all in. They were alone on this floor, at least on the outer hall landing, but Ford and Declan were still there, two stories below, still oblivious, but for how long? And she knew there were others around.
“It occurred to me,” Chance said from behind her, while one hand snaked in under her to play with her nipple, “that I’m really the only one who knows how incredible you look when you come. That doesn’t seem fair.”
Lena muffled a laugh. He was making her feel a little crazy. She was cuffed to a railing, her legs spread, naked, and he was…what was he even doing? Was she dreaming?
“You’re trying to drive me crazy, right?” she said.
“Only a little bit,” he said lightly. “But that’s about to change.”
Smack.
He’d spanked her. Hard enough to bring stinging tears to her eyes, hard enough for the pain to sizzle into pleasure as it traveled through her body, hard enough for the slap of his hand on her ass to be heard everywhere.
Smack.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Her breasts swung forward with every blow, and the swelling between her legs grew painfully. There wasn’t any more room for thinking. No more room for why she wanted this, for why it felt so good, even while it hurt, even while it humiliated her, why it still felt so right.
“Lena, what did you do wrong?” Chance asked.
That voice. Still warm and safe, yet hard. Commanding. She opened her mouth, shook her head.
Smack.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said. “You know.”
“I avoided you,” she gasped. “I should have told you what…what was going on. Why I was upset.”
“Good,” he said, sweeping his hand across her stinging ass. “Only four more to go for that. You’re almost there.”
Smack. She whimpered, already feeling sore. Was he really—?
Smack. Smack. Smack.
On the last one she cried out, sure her ass must be glowing, and unsure what to do with the feelings that swirled wildly within her. There was nothing to do, except ride them and remain receptive. Chance had made sure of that.
He said, “I can’t look out for you, Lena, I can’t take care of you, and I can’t give you what you need, if I don’t know what’s going on. That is dangerous. I am going to tie you up and do unspeakable things to you and I need to know that it’s going to work for you.”
She laughed, half laugh, half sob, her body a confusing jumble of emotions and sensations, the throbbing in her pussy louder than all the others combined.
“Unspeakable things?” she asked.
He thrust a finger into her, deep. “Starting now,” he said.
chapter 16
She moaned; and his finger inside her, penetrating her, felt even better when she heard him laugh and slap her thigh. A rush of affection ran through her when she realized he had avoided her raw and sensitive butt.
“Bend over with those beautiful breasts on the railing,” he said. “Give ‘em a good view.”
Lena balked. Declan and Ford and Adra and whoever else…
What would they think of her?
“But—”
“Do you trust me?” Chance asked.
“Yes,” she said. That—that she was sure of. And she always had her safeword.
“Good, ‘cause I’m not giving you a choice.”
With one hand holding her between her legs and his finger still inside her, he started to push her forward while his other hand pushed down on her back. He really wasn’t kidding. She was doing this.
“Ok,” she panted. “Ok!”
“All right, then.”
Awkwardly, with her legs still cuffed and spread apart, she shuffled toward the railing. She had a little more slack on her legs the closer she got to the railing, but not much. She took a deep breath, reminded herself that Chance was always behind her, and bent over so her breasts were pushed up and visible.
“Good girl,” Chance said. “Now, how much noise you’re going to make is up to you. But I’m betting I can get you to go pretty loud.”
“You jerk,” she muttered.
He smacked her lightly right on her pussy, and she cried out. Not only was that the shock of a lifetime, but holy crap, it felt good.
“See?” he said. “And keep talking like that if you want to get spanked so hard you can’t sit down. I’m not kidding.”
“Fine.”
“What’s that?”
“I meant ‘yes, sir,’” she said quickly. “Sorry.”
He kept his hand on her, but bent down to whisper in her ear, his free hand straying to her breasts again. “You are going to be one fine sub, Lena.”
Going to be?
Going to be?
She was chained, naked, to a railing, in front of a bunch of different guys, all because he’d ordered it! Going—
Cold gel fell into the crack of her ass and immediately silenced her righteous indignation. She shivered, and she was pretty sure she puckered, too, all of it involuntarily.
First there was a finger, moving in tiny little circles around her anus, hitting nerves she’d never knew existed. A
nal sex wasn’t something she’d given much of a try. She hadn’t really trusted anyone with a part of her she knew could be easily damaged.
In retrospect, maybe that was a sign that she shouldn’t have trusted those guys with anything at all.
Chance’s finger, though, Chance’s finger…so delicate, his touch, and yet firm. Every time he broached the tight ring it felt like a whole new kind of intrusion, and sent bolts of sensation shooting directly to her clit.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he said. “This isn’t too big. You can do this.”
This?
Then she felt it. More lube, and then hard plastic. He said it wasn’t too big, but still it felt impossibly large, going the wrong direction…
“Bear down on it, Lena,” Chance said, his voice calm and controlled. Soothing. “Go on, you can do it.”
She closed her eyes and did what he said, and he pushed it into her with a little pop she could feel.
It felt huge.
It flared against her cheeks, cold and unyielding, and the constant sense of “holy crap, that shouldn’t be there” just reinforced how much she was simply his. To play with, to fuck, to do with as he wished, even if that seemed to mostly consist of coming up with unexpected ways to make her feel good.
“How are you doing?” he asked, stroking her back.
She nodded, trying to come up with words. “Good,” she said. “It’s…it’s good.”
His laughter was soft, subtle this time. “Thought it might be. You might even be able to take me now,” he said, and she moaned at the thought. “But not yet. Your eyes better still be open. They looking up yet?”
Lena’s eyes had been open, but she’d only been obeying the letter of the law, not so much the spirit. She’d been staring resolutely at a blank spot in the wall across the atrium, on the other side of the building. Not down.
Not down.
“Lena,” he said, a warning in his tone.
“Shit,” she muttered.
You can do this. His hand on her back helped. She looked down.
They weren’t looking up. They weren’t looking up!
“Well?”
“No,” she said, and later, when she’d think back on it, she would realize that she’d sounded too happy about it.
“We’ll have to do something about that,” he said.
Something moved the plug. His palm, as his fingers drifted lower, towards her entrance, his palm leaned on the plug, moving it in circles, raking across those nerves, making it feel…so much bigger. Huge. Impossible. Filling her.
She started to moan.
“I’m going to take this ass one day,” he said. “Soon. Spread more for me. And keep those eyes open and looking down.”
He was going to make her scream. She could tell already. He was going to make her scream, and then everybody would know what was going on and where to look and there was nothing she could do about it. It was inevitable, so why did it still hold dread for her? Why—?
Something started to buzz. She knew she wasn’t allowed to move, couldn’t look back, but holy crap, did it sound big.
And then he touched it to the base of the plug.
“Oh my God,” she moaned, loudly.
It was vibrating inside her, sparking inside her, and each vibration echoed in her body as her legs, her arms, her stomach started to shake. She tried to speak, and it came out as a wail.
Then Chance plunged ruthlessly into her vagina.
He didn’t prepare her, didn’t start slow, and the sudden stretch of her flesh pinched painfully even as she screamed out in pleasure.
Now she screamed.
She’d never, ever felt so full. So taken. As sudden as his intrusion had been, now all she wanted was for him to move. She was so close, perpetually high on the vibrations in her anus, the feeling of fullness, the knowledge now, the freaking sight, of Ford and Declan and people she didn’t even know looking up at her getting taken from behind by Chance Dalton.
How did he know?
How did he know this would be…?
Slowly, achingly slowly, he started to pull out of her. She whined, he laughed. He pressed the vibrator down harder as he slid back into her, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand it if he just kept torturing her, stringing her higher and higher while her body tensed and coiled around him, desperate for release.
She had her answer as the vibrations ceased, an arm came around her waist, and he pushed deeper inside her.
“Now you come screaming,” he said in her ear.
And as he started to move, thrusting violently inside her, pounding her relentlessly, the round head of the vibrator touched her clit, and she did exactly as she was told.
~ * ~ * ~
Chance was pretty sure that Lena had passed out, temporarily, when she came up against the third floor railing. Her legs had buckled, and she would have collapsed if he hadn’t caught her. He’d come yelling her name as she contracted around him, but her orgasm had just gone on, and on, and on. He didn’t know how women did it. He was pretty sure something like that would have killed him.
But he’d caught her, and he’d carefully removed the restraints and then the plug, and then he’d held her in his arms as he carried her back to his room. She wasn’t coherent until they’d been sitting in his monster green chair for untold minutes, just breathing together, Chance placing light kisses on her head. He couldn’t resist touching her. As soft as she was, there was something magnetic about her.
But when she did finally come to, all she said was one thing.
“Thank you.”
chapter 17
Lena drifted down to Earth from the heights of subspace, or her orgasm, or both, at a leisurely, lazy pace. She had that luxury, because Chance was taking care of her. As always.
He’d held her until she was somewhat functional, and then carried her back to her own room, where he held her again until she fell asleep. This was the major barrier she’d set up, and he hadn’t questioned it yet, though some nights she passed out in his bed after being fucked senseless; if she made a conscious choice, it was to sleep in her own space. He respected it, which she was grateful for, but she also wondered if there was a time limit on his patience with that. Or, rather, on his patience for her lack of explanation. But her ability, her choice, to retreat into her own space was the thing that comforted her when she really began to fear that she was coming to depend on Chance.
So it was that he asked her if she wanted to go to sleep, and where, and then he carried her there and stayed with her until she was out.
Waking up in the dark without him there was, for the first time, jarring.
And then she couldn’t get back to sleep.
There were a couple of things that kept her awake, but chief among them, besides the ever-present, gnawing anxiety that she was getting in way over her head with this man, was the fact that she still hadn’t told him about the harassment from Paul Cigna.
Or whoever was sending her those texts.
Her ass was still a little sore from the spanking he’d given her. From a spanking. She probably wasn’t going to get over that anytime soon, but the fact remained that his essential point had been correct: he did need to know about things that affected her, psychologically and physically. If she was going to ask him to do this for her, to train her as her Dom, she had to give him the tools he needed to do it safely.
She’d been an idiot.
She couldn’t help but wonder if that idiocy was more about her own issues than anything else. Well, no, of course it was. It always was. That didn’t make it any less difficult to overcome.
And that scene! What he’d done for her with that alone…she didn’t have words. And she knew it wasn’t over. She knew the next part would come when he forced her to face all those people and see that they still accepted her.
Damn brilliant man.
Her gratitude for that only heightened the guilt she felt for keeping the texts from him
. She didn’t want to go wake him up, but she didn’t think she’d be able to sleep until she got this off her chest, even if she dreaded that it would become a big deal.
She decided to take a shower instead.
He’d given her a room adjoining his own suite, with a door to his master bathroom. She had her own, but he made a point of telling her to use the shower whenever she felt like it. He was a heavy sleeper and generally kind of oblivious unless he was doing his Dom thing, and he’d insisted it wouldn’t bother him, no matter what time of night.
Well, he hadn’t lied to her yet.
Her eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, and she’d always been a fan of dark, hot showers. She had just located her towels when she thought she heard something from Chance’s bedroom.
Or was she imagining it? Just for an excuse?
She was standing buck-naked in the man’s bathroom, trying to eavesdrop on him while he was sleeping. That didn’t speak highly to sanity. There was every possibility that she was imagining things.
Nope, there it was again. A kind of groan, a rustle. Not the fun kind, either, though it occurred to her, as she opened the door to his room, that he had every right to sleep with other women. He had the right; they hadn’t talked about it, but it would crush her.
There wasn’t any other woman. Just Chance, writhing in his bed, covered in sweat. His face was screwed up in pain. Distress.
For a moment she stood there, shocked.
Then she went to him.
She knew that on some level maybe she should be scared. A man of his size and strength, a military vet, a guy who’d done security work in probably terrible places, having an obviously violent nightmare—there were a number of things to be scared of. But she wasn’t. Maybe that was stupid, but this was the man who took care of her so diligently, who put so much thought into her welfare that he orchestrated insane scenes, who’d made her feel better about herself than she ever had before.
“Chance,” she whispered. She didn’t know what to do. If she touched him while he was asleep, he might flip out. But he was so obviously in pain, his fists clenched at his sides, his arms corded with straining muscle, the tattoos on them distorted as he fought some imaginary enemy.
