Masterful 3 (An Erotic Dark Romance)

by Jesse Joren

  The tiny sound that left my throat made him glance at me.

  "Don't tell me you never did this to yourself," he said.

  "I tried, but it wasn't very good."

  "Do you like it better now?"

  A slow flush heated my skin. "Yes. Very much."

  In another moment the bra was complete. It pushed my breasts out in a sharp upward jut, my nipples pulled almost flat by the tension from the rope.

  "Put your arms down."

  I dropped them to my sides, standing up straight. Every breath and heartbeat seeming to make my breasts quiver inside the bindings.

  Hex brushed his fingers feather-light over the very tips of my nipples. Even that slight touch made them swell into hard little peaks, defying the ropes that tried to hold them back.

  You can't keep a good nipple down.

  He leaned over and kissed each breast in turn. "Let's finish up your new costume," he said. "Spread your legs wide."

  His pack produced another coil of the white rope. Looping it around the rope between my breasts, he fed a single length down my body until he reached my thighs.

  "This may feel a little intense," he said, looking into my eyes, "but I think you're ready for the next page in the adventure."

  With a firm touch he parted my legs, spreading the soft lips open and ready for the rope. When the rough-smooth length slid against me, a sudden flood of sleek wetness came in response.

  "See how your body knows how to make the rope easier to bear?" He pulled it up between the cheeks of my ass. "You're such a damn natural for this. I knew you would be."

  "Of course," I said with a little smile. "You always think you have the answers."

  "I have one answer," he said, giving the rope a good jerk. "It's risky to be a smartass to the guy with the ropes."

  Three more times he passed the cord between my legs, each length growing tighter. He tied the final knot at the thick cable that nestled between my breasts. My rope bra was now a rope bodysuit.

  What did he see as he looked me over, standing there dressed in ropes and boots? Whatever he saw brought an almost cruel look to his face, something that gave me an instant of real fear.

  He reached toward me and smoothed my rumpled hair with one slow stroke from crown to ends. The tenderness in that touch reassured me.

  "Now we're ready to leave," he said. "Put your cape back on."

  "Only you would know a secret door from a Zen garden," I said, retrieving the cape. "Let me guess. A rock opens a hidden passage?"

  "There's a service entrance, but what's the fun of that? We're leaving the way you came in." He smiled. "Right through the ballroom."

  Chapter Nineteen

  I knew him too well to think that he was joking. Everything in his expression said that he was serious.

  Whatever he saw in my eyes made him laugh and touch my face with a smooth, cool stroke. I'd been too focused on the ropes to realize that he was wearing black gloves, just like that first night at my apartment.

  "That's almost the look I want to see in those beautiful eyes," he said, "but not quite. Not yet."

  He took me into his arms, ropes and all, pulling me up for a deep kiss that made the garden spin into a green blur.

  "Let go, Eva," he whispered against my mouth. "Live the fantasy. Do you think I'm going to let anything happen to you?"

  Holy hell, the way he said that, the way he was looking at me. The stew of fear and arousal inside of me made it hard to think.

  "Carpe diem," I said with a strangled laugh. "I can do that."

  "Good."

  My hands fumbled with the Darth Vader cape. It was oversized, and if I held the edges together from the inside, it covered me from my neck down to my boots.

  Hex took the heavy mask and settled it on my face.

  "One day," he said, "you're going to have to tell me why you chose this terrible costume."

  Through the narrow eyeholes, I saw him putting on the police hat, tucking his hair out of sight.

  "The tilt of a hat says a lot," he remarked. "If I push it to the back like this, I'm friendly, approachable, and just doing my job, ma'am."

  He adjusted it again.

  "Tilted forward like this, I'm more interested in attracting attention than catching a criminal. I'm daring, maybe a little dangerous, but I know I'll get the girls."

  He set the hat level on his head, stiffening his spine and pressing his lips together.

  "Now I'm the officer who's gonna bust your ass. People look away, and later they can't even remember the face."

  He took my arm in a firm grip, walking me out of the alcove and to the path out of the garden.

  "You better hope there's not a breeze," he said.

  --

  The party was still roaring. Hex's obvious grip on my elbow caused curious glances. Each one seemed to make my ropes tighter, my nipples harder. I'd expected him to rush us out, but instead he seemed to be lingering in the most crowded part of the room.

  Someone stumbled against me, right into my bound breasts under the cape. A deep male voice slurred an apology before moving on. The fear of being discovered was creating a tight coil of desire somewhere under all those ropes.

  I risked a glance at Hex, a.k.a. Officer Straight Arrow. His lips were trying not to curve into a smile. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  Natalie was nowhere to be seen, and I was grateful. What if my cape got pulled open? I could almost feel air on my skin, staring eyes roving over my crotchless rope bodysuit. What if—

  "I knew he was nothing but trouble."

  Stella's voice was behind me, slurring and triumphant. It sounded like the booze was really hitting her hard.

  "You're arresting him, right?" she demanded of Hex. "Bastard tried to rip off my costume earlier. A good ass-fucking in jail would be a lesson for him."

  "Exposing your nipples is public indecency," Hex said in a steely tone.

  One of Stella's oversized pink nipples had escaped her costume, and I wondered why no one had told her. That was a hazard of being Queen of the Bitches. No one had your back, or your front, either.

  "You wanna make me?" she sneered, hands on her hips.

  She was looking right into his face and not recognizing Stephen D'Amitri, the man who had requested my services. Or the guy she'd met at Trinity while trying to steal our table.

  Maybe Hex was onto something with his cop attitude theory. Or maybe it was just her massive infusion of vodka.

  "Want to go downtown? " Hex's voice was low. "Some gals who pass through the holding cells know tricks that make an ass fucking look tame. I'll make sure you get a personal introduction."

  Stella gasped, and he gave her a wintry smile. Some of the drunken haze left her eyes, her confident smile faltering.

  "Typical cop," she spat, tugging her costume into place. "Bullying innocent people because you have a badge."

  "You and your nipples have a nice day, ma'am," he said.

  His grip on my arm became more of a caress as he steered me out of the ballroom. Low laughter rumbled in his throat, and I was almost choking behind my mask.

  "I need to let Natalie know that I don't need a ride," I was finally able to say.

  "Where's your phone?"

  Too late I remembered that it was in the pocket of my shredded pants on the floor of the Zen garden.

  "Uh…crap…"

  Hex reached into his pocket and handed it to me with a wicked grin. "This what you're looking for?"

  I stuck out my tongue at him under my mask before tapping out a quick message to Natalie. His hand on my arm stopped my slow walk.

  "Here's our ride," he said.

  We were standing next to a sleek black sedan at the curb. Several streetlights were out around us, making an island of dark in the otherwise bright street. Knowing Hex, that might not be an accident.

  He trapped me against the back of the car, pressing his body roughly against mine. Through the cape I could feel the hard length of him grind against me.
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  That's not a pair of socks.

  He lifted off my heavy mask, allowing cool night air to touch my face. Then he unfastened the cape and peeled it away with slow, deliberate motions. The breeze that felt so refreshing on my face made my trussed body feel exposed and vulnerable.

  Leaning forward, he nuzzled the twin bulges of my tied breasts, brushing the nipples in warm, damp strokes. My fingers found his broad shoulders, trying to pull him closer.

  His laugh warmed my skin as he pulled away and opened the trunk, reaching into it. Something silver gleamed in his hands when he turned back to me.

  "You won't remember since you were asleep, but this was your ride out of Atlanta that night," he said. "No first date re-enactment would be complete without it."

  He pulled my wrists in front of me and caught each in a circle of coolness. Tiny twin clicks told me that he had handcuffed me. Then, with that effortlessness that always surprised me, he picked me up and laid me in the trunk.

  Something soft and heavily padded was underneath as Hex arranged me on my side. The ropes pulled and tugged with the new position, exciting my body in fresh ways.

  For a moment he towered over me, his eyes meeting mine. He was so beautiful, so sexy, so controlled. Wherever this ride led tonight, I craved the dark excitement of not knowing what plans he had behind that smile.

  He leaned into the trunk to spread the cape over me, deliberately brushing the front of his shirt brush against my bare nipples. His scent washing over me made being locked into a trunk seem decadent and sexy.

  "Last time you slept in the back seat so I could keep an eye on you," he said. "Tonight, you don't get passenger privileges."

  My last view was his smile as he closed the trunk, sealing me into the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was hard to tell time in the dark, but it felt like we drove for many miles with frequent stops. Sometimes it was quiet, but other times the sounds of heavy traffic surrounded the car.

  The small trunk helped keep me warm as I lay curled on my side. Every bump in the road jiggled the ropes in some new way that reminded my body to pay attention.

  Does this seem like a good idea to you?

  Hex could take me anywhere and do anything to me. I had willingly strolled right through a crowded hotel with him, and not even my best friend knew where I was going.

  In the darkness was the faint gleam of a trunk safety release. Even in handcuffs it would be easy to pop open the trunk, to signal for help from a passing car.

  Nothing around Hex happened by accident. He had left me a choice, but making that choice would mean that tonight and all of its dark promise would end.

  Pulling that lever would amount to saying that I didn't trust him. Once that happened, this scene would never happen again – and that was the last thing I wanted.

  A slow, hot trickle still dampened the ropes as they chafed between my thighs. My breasts were hot from the trapped blood of the binding, the cape creating a rough, delicious friction against my nipples.

  Hex and I walked different tightropes across our strange relationship. His was having sensual control without being abusive. Mine was giving permission to be sexually controlled without being a doormat.

  Against incredible odds, our online fantasies had become a real, lava-hot connection that might actually work. The way I felt was too addictive not to taste it to the absolute limit.

  Let's see if you feel that way in a few hours.

  --

  Eventually the car slowed, swinging into a tight turn before coming to a stop. I heard what sounded like a heavy garage door coming down, making me stir under the cape.

  There was a brief beep and then the trunk went up. Hex was standing in dark-gray, backlit relief, but even that much light made me blink.

  He didn't say anything as he took off his police cap and threw it into the trunk. Then he was reaching for me, picking me up and putting me over his shoulder. The trunk closed behind us as he began to walk, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

  "Your scent is all over you," he said. "Did you touch yourself?"

  "No."

  "But you wanted to. To relieve that ache."

  "Yes."

  I told myself that the heat in my face was from being carried upside-down. Each movement made me aware of my nakedness rubbing against his uniform.

  "It will be," he said softly.

  He stopped in front of a single elevator door, stepping inside when it opened. This was a pungent smell, that of an old space recently renovated and made new again. As we began to slowly rise, the clanky sound made me think of a warehouse.

  We stopped with a brief jerk after only a short ride. When the doors opened, a soft glow of light and a rush of fresh air surrounded us, tinged with a familiar scent of sea salt spray.

  That had been the signature of my old apartment.

  Hex unloaded me from his shoulder to stand beside him. "As promised, a new take on our first date," he said.

  The elevator clanks had been accurate. We were standing in a huge space that could only have started out as a warehouse. Someone with money had taken over from there, converting it into a place that few could afford.

  One long wall was a series of tall, narrow sheet windows set to form a wall of glass. The Atlanta skyline glowed in the distance, dominated by the golden pinnacle of the Bank of America Plaza.

  Rows and strings of high-mounted lights were layered above us among high wood beams and twinkling duct work. The soft glow reflected onto pale wood floors and brick walls that were the distressed shade that only happens with time and scrubbing with a wire brush.

  Then something else caught my eye. It had nothing to do with architectural lines or superb lighting.

  All of the furniture from my old apartment was here, artfully scattered throughout the space. My second-hand red couch and orange crate bookcases looked a lot more stylish than they ever had on Sycamore Street.

  As Hex unlocked the cuffs, I glanced at the far end of the loft. It was darker in that part of the room, but I could see the black metal frame of my old bed mounted to the brick wall. It was spread with the tattered watercolor-blue quilt that I loved, passed down from my grandmother.

  I glanced up at Hex, and he grinned at me. "Surprise," he said. "But don't look for your clothes. I really did burn those."

  The dark uniform showcased the easy, rippling muscles of his body. Light from above brightened his hair to gold and hinted at ice-blue tints in his gray eyes. He was light and dark all at once, a rich and dazzling combination that was almost too much to absorb.

  "Written BDSM contracts are useless," he said. "They're meant to protect against sadism, but a true sadist always finds a loophole. I want honesty, trust, and having a safe word, but if you need a contract, I'll respect it."

  This was the moment when a sensible girl would untie the ropes, put on some borrowed clothes, and call a taxi. She would go home, burn those tantalizing books, leave town, and forget him.

  And she would regret it forever.

  The decision to trust him had been made long ago, even if I hadn't known it. Now it was real, with all of my nerves on high alert as recklessness flooded me.

  Standing straight in spite of the ropes, I put my hands on my hips. My grin felt cocky, something to make Online Eva proud.

  "No contract for me," I said. "If I ever scare you too much, I'll understand that you need to reconsider."

  Laughter snapped in his eyes, and for a moment I was sure this was a dream. How could this gorgeous guy with the wicked mind and killer body be mine?

  "How reassuring," he said. "Pick a word."

  A safe word had to be brief and easy to understand, especially around a gag. It needed to be unique, something that would never be said in the heat of passion unless gasped when final limits were reached.

  "Walden," I said after a moment. 'I pick Walden as my word."

  The energy between us seemed to shift, reality being set aside for something else. Hex caug
ht my hand and placed it on the hardness under his dark pants, rubbing under my palm.

  "Do you feel safer now?" he asked.

  "Not completely," I admitted.

  "Very wise."

  His voice went lower, sending my pulse into overdrive. The throb I felt under my hand seemed to radiate heat.

  "When I came to your apartment that night," he said, "I had a play-by-play plan to take you. Time wasn't on my side."

  Something dark crept into his expression. Here was Online Hex in the flesh, uncensored and unhurried. The guy who knew my every secret, with no computer between us.

  "Now I have time," he said, "so we're going to start at the beginning. Get on your knees."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  His voice didn't change, and he didn't move. Those words, said in that even tone, held a power that no typed text could match.

  A smartass reply tried to spring to my lips, but the look on his face made me reconsider. This was the moment of truth. Fantasy would become reality, or we would fail and walk away.

  I lowered myself into the floor, feeling the cold, polished wood under my knees. The new position shifted the ropes again, pulling my breasts high and tight.

  Hex made a circle around me, his boots clicking in slow tempo. Each fresh thump of his heels created an answering throb deep between my thighs.

  He stopped behind me. "Very nice. Get on all fours," he said.

  That feeling of unreality washed over me again. Who was this girl, and what was she doing here?

  I put my hands on the floor and leaned over, my hair hanging down into my face. The tip of his boot nudged between my knees.

  "Wider," he said. "Show me everything."

  A whole-body blush scorched me as I balanced my weight on my hands and spread my knees. His gaze was like a physical touch as the slow evidence of my excitement dampened my inner thighs.

  "That first night, I wanted you exactly like this," he said. "To rip off those awful clothes and see you as naked as you're meant to be. Crawl to the bed."

  The expanse of floor from here to the far wall looked like a football field. The rawness made it seem as if Walden and everything since had never happened. Hex was somehow once again a stranger, a mystery with few clues.