Chasing Chelsea (Masters of the Castle)

by Maren Smith

  “Hold still.”

  Warm and wet, the brush touched her skin. It wasn’t as ticklish as before, so maybe that had been due more to nerves. It felt good now, like teasing flicks of his tongue, and it went everywhere, moving over her hip and up her side, painting butterflies as it wandered the undercurve of her breast, teasingly drawing closer to her now aching nipples. Was that the brush or was it really his tongue, flicking at each tingling tip, jostling the clamps to make their bite temporarily harder? He blew, his breath at once both heated and cooling the liquid on her skin. She shivered.

  “Hold still,” he admonished, and then his mouth found hers. He kissed her, first softly, then plundering when she opened for more. She tried again to chase his lips but he escaped her so easily and she sobbed because she couldn’t find him. The brush tickled the tender flesh between her knees. It must have been an artistic mistake because he immediately sucked it clean and in a strong, sure stroke, his tongue licked up her thigh. She caught her breath, but he stopped short of where she needed his mouth the most.

  “Please!” she begged.

  He parted the lips of her sex, peeling back the hood of her clit to expose her to the touch he refused to give. He blew instead, soft and torturously sweet. “Please?”

  She arched. “Please, oh please, oh please!”

  “Please, what?”

  She jumped when she felt the caress of the chocolate-coated brush. It circled her clit, direct contact that was at once both heaven and hell.

  “Fuck me!” Chelsea had never in her life had to beg for this, but she was begging now. She was shouting for it, sobbing, bucking and writhing. “Fuck me please, Master Kade!”

  His fingers pulled her pussy lips apart and his mouth latched on. He lashed her and she shouted again, arching wildly to grind up into his victorious sucking, but her bonds held her back…until all of a sudden, they grew slack.

  Kade ripped at the ribbons, first one knee and then the other, not bothering with her wrists before flipping her onto her wet and squirming belly. He heaved her hips, pulling her those last few inches off the end of the counter. Her arms strained, but his heat was at her back, the rough scrape of his denim jeans scouring her ass that last instant before she heard the zip that freed him. His cock between her cheeks was heavy and hot. The rip of the condom packet heralded that heady pressure as the full thickness of him burrowed slick into the valley of her folds, parting and stretching her as he searched for entry. Finding it, he grabbed her hair, pulling her head all the way back and freeing the way for that first lusty shout when he shoved into her, so hard and fierce and wonderfully, aggressively deep. He was all she could feel—on her, around her, in her. She’d begged him to fuck her, but this wasn’t fucking. It was taking, conquering, claiming. Every inch of her pussy, her body and soul—she was his. His. HIS!

  It hurt, but it didn’t. This felt too good to be pain. It was ecstasy in its rawest form. Overwhelming, and with every pounding thrust, it left her shaken. Every nerve raced for more and more and when ‘more’ at last became too impossible to be achieved, that’s when he ripped the nipple clamps away.

  For the first time since he’d put them on her, Chelsea knew real pain. She shouted even as she came, the most soul-shattering punishment she’d ever endured. The waves went on and on, crashing inside her, driven relentlessly deeper by the friction of his pounding cock, until at last he slammed in one final time, growling as he ground his pleasure into her.

  It wasn’t until much later when, in the privacy of her bedroom with the dark of night settling all around her, that Chelsea would remember this moment—this priceless second in time when all she could feel was the slick heat of his body engulfing hers, that tickling drop of sweat that fell from his forehead onto her shoulder, the throbbing of his cock as it pulsed and twitched inside her—and then she’d cry. She was never going to experience anything like this again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Walk away.

  His weight held up on trembling arms, Kade stared down at her, shaken. He couldn’t stop thinking. It was time to get up now, free her from the counter, steal maybe one more kiss from her trembling, passion-swollen lips, and then just walk away.

  He always walked away. He’d built a life around not staying, not lingering, not getting attached. Attachments were knives—sometimes scraping erotically across the skin, sometimes digging in, cutting gaping wounds so severe that they could drop a man to his knees. He’d seen it more times than he cared to count. He’d even been dropped to his knees once. Just once.

  Never again.

  Walk away.

  Every muscle in his back and shoulders tensed, but perched over her from behind he could see the profile of her face. Her eyes were open—so green, so dazed, smoldering from the passion that had rocked her. Her hair, that long, red tangle, was twisted around his hand, the strawberry leash by which he held her down. She was still his until he let her go, and her body, so soft and supple and fitting into the embrace of his, felt like she’d been made for him. Just for him.

  Walk away.

  He bent, opening his mouth. Drops of his sweat tickled everywhere it dripped down his skin; the salty taste of hers was nirvana. He caressed the slope of her shoulder with his lips, then bit hard enough to make her breathe in, then gasp, then squirm. He marked her, but she never once tried to break away. He suckled hard and she undulated, rocking her hips back against him until his cock began to stir and that hickey on her shoulder was as dark as a bruise. When he at last drew back, seeing the mark on her only served to renew the arousal his bite had inspired.

  Get up. Get up right now and walk the fuck away.

  But, Kade didn’t. Her back was slick with sweat, but so was his belly. His cock still throbbed, still needed, what few seconds of softening that had occurred between then and now was beginning to reverse as he shifted his weight. Tiny minute strokes of friction helped him harden until he was thrusting again. Climbing the mountain. He never climbed twice.

  She closed her eyes, panting, groaning low when he twisted to bind his hand that much tighter in her hair. He twisted her head back, catching her face and forcing her to look at him, to see him as he took her, owned her, fucked her.

  He should have walked away, but sundown was still hours away, and for all the minutes from now until then, she belonged to him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Chelsea stood in a back room of the Wardrobe in front of a panel of mirrors, feeling sexy as hell and incredibly self-conscious. Kade was dressing her. Not himself, no. He sat in an overstuffed chair behind her, eating peanut M&Ms from a crystal bowl while he directed two attendants to bring first an assortment of lingerie—a broad variety of bras and panties before he finally settled on a white lace corset, no panties at all, and silk thigh-high stockings.

  “Shave her,” he told them, and that was a very strange experience. To have to stand in front of those mirrors, watching as Kade watched her and an attendant got down between Chelsea’s knees and very neatly, very professionally, shaved her pussy bare.

  That was the only time during the entire process that Kade got out of his chair and came to her. With his chest at her back, gazing at her reflection in the mirrors, he reached around her body and cupped between her legs. He fondled, enjoying the smoothness, seeming to enjoy even more when her breathing grew erratic and her hips, though she fought hard to hold herself still, began moving in conjunction with the rubbing of his fingers.

  “I could fuck you right here,” he said, his dark eyes dancing into hers. Taking his hand out from between her legs, he held it up to her, showing everybody just how wet she’d left his fingers. And that included both attendants, one of whom stood aside, a selection of dresses in her arms, while the other remained on her knees, simply waiting to be commanded. It was mortifying, but the look he gave her just before he returned to his chair was like a drug, addicting and impossible to resist. “Dress her.”

  She must have tried on half the shop before Kade finally se
ttled on an ice blue princess gown with swirled patterns of glittering silver that made her sparkle under the dressing room lights.

  “Hair up or down?” one attendant asked Kade.

  “Down,” he said without hesitation, and the back of her scalp tingled with the memory of how he’d pulled it, forcing her back to arch while he pounded into her in Sinclair’s back kitchen. She still had his mark on her shoulder, that round hickey that her low neckline couldn’t hide. It didn’t hurt, which was almost sad. She’d liked the way it had felt when he’d bit. It had been primal and proprietary, like he’d been claiming her for his own in a way that everyone would be able to see. Her nipples throbbed, feeling raw against the lace of her corset. Kade was wearing those clamps, the chain draped around his neck with the clover ends dangling off his shoulders where she couldn’t help but see them.

  While one attendant brushed the tangles from her long hair, the other asked, “Will she need a mask?”

  Chelsea looked over her shoulder at Kade, who arched an eyebrow.

  “Is that tonight?”

  “From six to midnight,” she cheerfully replied.

  “Hell,” Kade muttered, and popped another M&M into his mouth. He chewed slowly, mulling it and her over before his eyes narrowed. “What time does the sun go down these days?”

  The attendants looked at one another.

  “About nine,” Chelsea replied. By now, she’d slept in her car often enough to know.

  “It’s almost three now.” He studied her, his expression hard to read. “What do you say, Red? Shall we amend our arrangement and meet up again between the hours of six and midnight at the masquerade?”

  She didn’t want to wait. She didn’t want to leave him. She had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to do with herself between now and then except think of him and vibrate in a state of unbearable anticipation over what he was going to do to her next.

  “Sure,” she said, as if she wasn’t bothered by this at all.

  Popping another M&M into his mouth, he stood up. “Think you can find your way to the ballroom without me?”

  No.

  “I’ve got a map.” Just having him this near made her ache to be touched. She really needed to get a grip on this.

  “Three hours.” He said it like a warning, as if he honestly thought she might not show. When he kissed her, he curled her toes. When he left the Wardrobe, she felt abandoned.

  The attendant brought over an assortment of masks—many too gaudy to wear. Some were full masks, meant to hide her face; others were so skimpy they would have covered only her eyes. Chelsea picked a half mask, a blue and white that wouldn’t clash with her gown but that she felt certain Kade would recognize her in. She didn’t know how many people would be attending this masquerade, but she didn’t want to risk that he wouldn’t be able to find her.

  With mask in hand, as Chelsea left the Wardrobe she ran smack into Master Marshall and his lady.

  “Oh no,” she groaned when she saw who she’d collided with.

  Kaylee started to laugh. Master Marshall was not quite as amused.

  “Not quite the reaction I’m accustomed to,” he said mildly. Catching the Wardrobe door, he held it open for Kaylee and nudged for her to precede him. “Find us some good masks, if possible,” he directed, waiting in the hall until his lady had vanished behind the heavy wood door.

  Chelsea tsked and folded her arms across her chest, waiting impatiently to find out what she was in trouble for now.

  “So,” Master Marshall said. “How is your day?”

  “Fine.” As huge as this place was, why couldn’t she ever get away from this guy?

  “I wanted to ask you,” he continued, pretending not to notice her sullen reply, “how is Master Kade treating you?”

  Her face flamed. “Fine.”

  “You’re enjoying yourself then?”

  “Yes.”

  “I only ask because—”

  “You want to keep me as uncomfortable as possible?” That just popped out.

  Marshall pretended not to notice that too. “—because Travis and Trevor have been wondering if you wouldn’t prefer a change in authority.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, exploding just a little. “Absolutely fine. I don’t want to change a thing.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Her teeth ground. She made herself smile. “Yes.”

  “As you wish.”

  Hoping that meant she was dismissed, Chelsea tried to walk away.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Stiffening, Chelsea grudgingly turned back to him. “What?”

  He motioned for her to turn around.

  She exploded all over again. “But we’re not in your office! You can’t spank me out here! I haven’t done anything!”

  He twirled his finger again.

  Not quite sure she even had a choice, even more grudgingly, Chelsea turned around.

  It was the hardest swat Marshall had yet landed, arching her up on tiptoes and jolting her hips lewdly forward. Chelsea whirled around, both hands dashing back to catch and rub through her skirts. That was a mistake. The interior of her gown might be fancy lace, but it abraded her stinging bottom like a brillo pad.

  “The rules,” Master Marshall told her, his mouth stern, but his blue eyes laughing, “are mine to change at will.”

  Chelsea managed to keep her tongue locked firmly behind tight lips until he had vanished into the Wardrobe to join Kaylee. “Big jerk!” she spat once it had closed. He was the one part of this place she wasn’t going to miss once she was home.

  * * * * *

  The line for the ballroom stretched all the way down the hall and around the corner and Chelsea was standing in it when, somewhere in the bowels of the Castle, a clock bonged out the resonating notes for six o’clock. The masquerade was already in full swing, but so far, there was no sign of Kade. Now and then, Chelsea stepped out from the wall, peeking up at the massive double doors, where people were showing their passes to be let in, and then back down the other way where the crowd had grown so thick it completely choked the end of the hall.

  “Bracelets!” Clad as a maid, her black and white uniform barely long enough to cover her front, much less her ample behind, a woman walked slowly along the line, displaying a tray of ribbons and charms. “Dance All Night! Mysterious Stranger Seduction! Looking For Group and Fantasy Roleplay! Get them all right here and remember this night for the rest of your life!”

  Chelsea had no intention of buying one, but when the couple in front of her flagged the maid over, she huddled in with some of the other waiting guests to get a better look at the bracelets. They were pretty, little more than satin ribbons, each decorated with a single charm. One was a mask, just like the one she was wearing.

  “How much are they?” the woman next to her asked.

  “Free,” the maid replied. “Help yourself.”

  The price was right, so Chelsea did. She chose a mask charm, but only because there weren’t any ribbons with nipple clamps on them. Although she didn’t think she’d have any trouble remembering this place, still, it was nice to have a memento.

  “Right wrists, everyone. Right wrists.” As the maid moved on, Chelsea used her teeth to get her bracelet tied securely into place. She was just adjusting the dangle of the charm when two small hands suddenly planted themselves on her shoulders. Selena, dressed in froths of pink and white and wearing a half-mask of glitter and pink ostrich feathers, vaulted into the air, coming down with a bounce beside her.

  She burst into song, belting out a Phantom of the Opera show tune with the same title as the gala they were attending. People both ahead and behind them in line were turning around to look at her, and Selena didn’t even seem to care. If she weren’t completely crazy, Chelsea would have admired that about her.

  “Come on.” With a grin and a wink, Selena linked their arms and dragged her away from the other guests. “We live here. We don’t have to wait in line.”


  “That’s not fair!” someone spat as they walked ahead—that same blonde woman who had confronted Kade earlier.

  “Talk to the hand,” Selena said, quacking her fingers without turning around.

  Startled at first, Chelsea slapped her arm. “Be nice!” she said, but she did it laughing.

  “Why? I’m never going to see her again!”

  From behind them, Master Emerson, whom Chelsea hadn’t even noticed was shadowing their footsteps, landed a swat of his own. He missed her arm entirely, but that was probably deliberate. “Be nice,” he reiterated, sternly.

  “Why?” Selena asked again, whining and rubbing at her bottom.

  He swatted at her again, but she ducked him, earning two swats instead of one, plus a warning look. Chelsea had to quicken her steps to keep up with Selena, who hurried now to the head of the line before he gave her any more.

  There was already a crush of people inside, and Chelsea was suddenly grateful that Selena and her husband had come along when she saw the two security guards at the door were taking gold tickets from those seeking entry. Chelsea didn’t have a ticket. She hadn’t even seen anyone selling them. Who knows how long she’d have stood there, waiting for Kade at the door because she couldn’t get in without him?

  Where was he anyway?

  Instead of one ballroom, the masquerade was being held in three—the massive double doors between each having been propped open wide to extend the length to that equaling three gymnasiums. There were so many people. How was she ever going to fi—

  A blindfold slid down over her eyes. Beside her, Selena began to giggle. “Oh my. Have fun, you two.”

  When Selena relinquished her arm, someone else took hold of her. Chelsea reached up to touch the hand that held her, feeling the broad masculine size of those fingers, and smiled. Either Kade had gotten lucky or he’d been looking for her, to find her so quickly. She felt giddy, a rush of happy anticipation flooding her so thoroughly that her knees shook from it. “How—” she started to say, but the hand moved, evading her hold to press a silencing finger to her lips.