She stared at him, trying to compose an answer to his question, but she’d forgotten what he’d asked. He gazed back, like a predator not quite certain of his prey. Did he know? She should confess everything to him. That, yes, she’d come here to see him, and that no, she didn’t know anything about BDSM. She should confess about her dreams and her fantasies, tell him how much she wanted him even if she couldn’t allow herself to have him.
He swung his leg over the horse again, this time so he was behind her, his chest pressed to her back. “Give me your hands,” he said. In that fleeting moment, with his sultry, demanding voice at her ear, she could have sobbed with frustration. She let him take her hands, beyond obedience now. There was only him and the crazed feelings he created in her. She was not like this.
Then why are you letting him hold your hands behind your back? Why do you love the way it feels?
He could circle both her wrists with a thumb and finger. With the other hand, he stroked the crop along her thighs, a light, teasing glide. He ran it over both legs, over shimmery stockings and the bare skin above. She heard him take a breath, his chest rising and falling against her back.
Then, again, tap, tap tap, but this time it was very sharp and very controlled, on the tender inner skin of her left thigh. The longer he did it, the harder it was to be still. She arched back against him and he tightened his grip on her wrists. He started on the other thigh. Oh God, it hurt. Tap, tap, tap, flick, flick, flick.
She made an agonized sound, or perhaps a pleading sound. She wanted to plead on her knees for him to flick it on her center. To rub the crop over her aching sex until she exploded into orgasm.
“What’s the matter?” he whispered.
She shook her head violently. No, no, no, no.
“It feels good or bad?” he asked in the same soft tone. “You want me to stop?”
She couldn’t answer. She bit her lip and turned to him, seeking solace in the arms of her tormentor. He brought his hand up and guided her face until their lips met in a brief kiss. She could feel the crop in his fingers, right against her leg. A moment later, flick. A bite of fire landed at the juncture of her pelvis. The other side then, back and forth, on her bare skin. The stockings, her panties, nothing covered that delicate, pale area, nothing except the flicks of his crop.
She squirmed against him, desperate for him to touch her clit. If he touched her now, she would orgasm like a maniac and then she’d die. If he touched her, he’d know everything, and she’d lose everything, because she’d do anything to live like this, with Rubio’s hot breath against her ear and his hands cinching her wrists behind her back. She would want this three, four, five times a week. Every night.
He slid a hand down her hip, pinched and squeezed the same sensitive flesh he’d tortured with his crop. One touch on her aching clit, and she’d go off like a rocket...
“No,” she cried, cowering away from him. “No, that’s enough. That’s—”
She jerked her hands hard, and he released them. She vaulted off the horse and backed away. He stood, his face tight with concern.
“What? What’s the matter? You okay?”
No, I’m not okay. What are you doing to me? She didn’t feel like herself. She felt scared and conflicted, and she was wearing a damn black wig that kept falling in her eyes. He reached out to her but she eluded his touch.
“I just—” She put her fingers to her lips, where he’d kissed her. “I just—I have to—to leave.”
He laughed uncertainly. “You didn’t like it?”
She grabbed her dress and motioned him back when he tried to approach. “No, it was good. I liked it, but I have to go. Um...” She cast around for appropriate parting words as she yanked down the skirt of her dress. “You probably want to have sex and...and take your pants off again. So, I’m going to go and then you can play with someone else. I mean, someone more willing to have sex.”
“I liked playing with you,” he said. “I told you, we don’t have to have sex.”
You idiot. Is that what you think? When he reached out for her, she let him hug her but she was too alarmed to hug him back. She broke away and said goodbye, then headed for the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t follow. Halfway up the stairs she started to run, dodging naked, happy guests. She was halfway across the living room when someone stepped in front of her.
“Hey, are you okay? What’s the matter?”
She looked up into the concerned amber eyes of the party host, Liam Wilder. Before she could come up with words in her state of distress, his eyes narrowed.
“Petra? Is that you? What are you doing here? Why are you wearing that wig?”
They were the same questions Rubio had asked her earlier, but this time, she didn’t bother to lie to him. “Oh God. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know.”
*** *** ***
Rubio regretted letting her go. He prowled around Liam’s house three times, upstairs, downstairs, in case she’d decided to linger, but she was nowhere to be found.
He shouldn’t have let her go, but he’d been so freaked out himself. He’d tried to be responsible and maintain a safe detachment. He’d tried to stay in control, because she was so delicate. She would have been so easy to hurt.
Once he realized she’d never played before, it made her sensual reactions so much more powerful. He’d almost lost control at the end. He’d been one second from sliding his hand down the front of her panties, one second from shoving his fingers inside her hot pussy and making her ride them until she came. He wanted to conquer her and own her, and torment her until she screamed for mercy—the good kind of screaming. He wanted these things so badly, but somehow, she didn’t want him.
No, she’d jumped down from the horse and taken off for the stairs like the room was on fire, and he’d watched her go, helpless, his heart in his throat.
Damn her. He should have left her in the cuffs. He knew her arms weren’t really hurting. He was pretty good at reading women and he’d thought she was enjoying everything he did to her. He’d thought she was turned on, right up until the point where she’d fled. He pictured her running down the street, dodging cars and swearing at strangers, her itchy black wig blowing out behind her. Crazy, erratic Petra. Why had she come to Liam’s in the first place, in that awful disguise?
“Ruby.”
He turned at the strident tone of Liam’s voice. “Hey. You seen Petra?”
“I just took her home. She seemed pretty upset.”
Rubio stepped back, holding out his hands. “I didn’t do nothing to her.”
“I know. Relax. I think she was just...confused.”
Rubio was confused too. He looked around at the chattering crowds of kinky friends. This was his crowd. She’d been the interloper, the one who didn’t belong here. “I don’t know why she showed up. I didn’t invite her. I didn’t tell her anything about your parties.”
“They’re not exactly a secret in ballet circles, thanks to you.”
“I never told anybody,” Ruby protested.
“I told you to relax,” said Liam, drawing him to a more private corner. “I don’t care who knows, as long as they’re a friend. And I have a pretty good idea why she showed up here. I expect it’s the same reason she ran out the way she did.”
Rubio stared at him. “What? What reason?”
“Obviously she’s as tangled up over you as you are over her.”
Liam’s words didn’t make any sense. “Tangled up? Is that an expression?”
“You, her. Tangled up.” Liam intertwined his fingers in a knot. “And before you deny that you feel anything for her, I saw you playing with her earlier. So save it.”
Rubio glared at him. He hated when Liam got this way, prying into his business and giving him judgey looks. Liam was always the cool, collected one, the smart one, while Ruby was the fuck-up who swanned around in tights. He waved a hand at his friend. “I’m tired. I’m going home.”
“You could go to her place instead, you kno
w. Tell her how you really feel about her, instead of standing here pretending nothing happened downstairs.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” his friend answered. “I think both of you could use a good aftercare session. At the very least, you should check on her and be sure she’s okay.”
He hated Liam. He hated him because he was rich and suave, and judgey, and almost always right.
Chapter Eight: Please
Rubio knew where she lived. He’d walked her to her door a couple times, when rehearsals finished early and they didn’t want to wait for the car. He’d even picked her up here once, for lunch, in some fruitless attempt to thaw the frost between them. She’d certainly thawed tonight, and then frozen up again like a glacier. Why? Liam said Petra was tangled up with him. What did that mean? Why could he never understand anything where women were concerned? All he knew was how to turn them on, and how to hurt them so he didn’t really hurt them. Neither of those talents was proving very useful where Petra was concerned.
He knocked on her door with a feeling of dread. “Petra,” he said softly. “It’s me.”
“What do you want?”
He stepped back. She was right on the other side. “Let me in.”
“I’m in my pajamas.”
He made an agitated sound. “I don’t care. Can I come in? Before your neighbors call the police?”
He heard the lock turn and there she was, his sugar-vanilla girl, dressed in a cat shirt and pajama bottoms. She looked defensive, her arms clutched at her waist.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
“But you left so quick. Why did you run away?” Her pretty blonde hair was still wet from a shower. He liked her better this way, in her natural look. She still had the faintest shadow of dark lips. He wanted to kiss them. He almost did before he remembered himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead. “I don’t know how to be like Liam. I don’t know how to be a good guy, for you to like, but I like you, Petra. I’m sorry Liam had to take you home. I would have taken you home.”
She closed her eyes and hugged herself tighter. “Oh, Rubio. I just had to get out of there.”
“If you stayed, I would have taken care of you. Aftercare, is called. I know you don’t know anything about BDSM, by the way.”
She opened her mouth to protest but he stopped her. “Please, don’t lie to me anymore. Is okay. It was your first time to do it, yes?”
“If you knew I was lying, why didn’t you say something?”
“Why? Because...” Because I wanted you. Because the temptation was too hard to resist. “Because I didn’t know at first. Only after, I realized, but then it was too late. I wanted to show you. I wanted...”
She pulled him inside and shut the door. “You wanted to embarrass me,” she said. “Admit it. You wanted to show me that you can control me and make me want you.”
“Maybe. A little,” he admitted. He raised his eyebrows. “Did you want me?”
“No, I didn’t, and I don’t. I don’t want you,” she snapped, turning away. “And I don’t want you to make me want you when I don’t want to want you. I don’t want you tempting me to want you just because you can, when I’ve already said I don’t want you.”
He held up a hand. “Please, slow down. My English is not so good.”
“I don’t want this,” she cried, backing away as he advanced on her. “And I don’t know why you’re here now, tempting me, making things worse. We don’t belong together. We’re nothing alike. I don’t want you, okay? Believe me, I don’t. Not sexually or otherwise.”
He blinked at her, once, twice. She was pretty even when she was angry, but she’d made her position very clear. “Okay, then. I’ll go,” he said, heading for the door.
“But...wait...”
When he turned to face her, she shook her head. “No. I mean, yes. Go. Ignore me.”
“But you said to wait.” He shoved a hand into his pocket. “I brought condoms just in case. In case you want me. Because I want you. I’ve wanted you forever now.”
To his chagrin, she covered her face and started crying.
He hurriedly shoved the condoms back in his pocket. “Or, okay. I’ll put them away. I was just thinking, safe sex.”
“Please shut up,” she yelled through tears. “Look, I lied. I don’t w-want you to g-go. I’m just afraid I’ll fall for you, and I really don’t want to fall for you. Why are you making this so hard?”
“Hard? I’m making things hard?” He narrowed his eyes, reaching to caress the curve of her jaw. “You lied to me, Petra, twice now, and you’re saying all kinds of crazy stuff. You’re such a bad girl.” He brushed away one of her tears. “You know, lying is bad. You need someone to make you a better girl. Someone to punish you when you’re not being good.”
She made a small sound, like she was choking or laughing. “Let me guess, that someone is you?”
“I would be happy to help.” He took her in his arms and kissed away her tears, making gentle shushing noises. He patted her back and then ran his hands down over her delicate curves. He didn’t even try to hide his erection. He pressed it right against the front of her. Let her feel what she did to him. Oh, and the things he wanted to do to her...
He drew back and pressed his forehead to hers. “What now? You said you don’t want sex. You said, because we’re partners...”
She took a shuddery breath. “Don’t you understand what happened with my mom and dad? If you knew what he put her through, you’d see why—why we can’t—”
“Who? Put who through what? Petra—”
“Maybe it won’t happen with us, but what if it does?”
“What if what does?” he asked, bewildered.
“My mother…she lost herself in my father, in her feelings for him. Then she got pregnant and found out he’d never really loved her. No one would hire her after that. It was a big fucking mess.”
“But…what does that have to do with either of us?”
She shuddered again, even harder this time. “Because I understand how my mother felt now. I’m about to die from wanting you. It’s horrible. This is the worst thing I’ve ever felt.”
He gave a quick, bitter laugh. Did she think he didn’t understand the wanting? He slid his fingers over the elegant line of her neck. He wanted to fuck her until she couldn’t walk, until she screamed and cried, until she came in a rush of breath and begged for more. “I die every time I touch you,” he said. He pushed up the back of her shirt and opened his hands against her warm, bare skin. “You torture me, every day, every hour. You’re a very bad girl.”
She buried her face against his chest. “I don’t mean to torture you, but I’m scared. You scare me in so many ways.”
“Do you think I’ll hurt you?” he asked, sliding his hands down to squeeze her ass.
“Yes. I think you’ll steal part of my soul.”
He tilted her head back to look in her eyes. “Really? You believe that?”
“Yes. I want you so bad, but I’m scared. I’m so scared of what you’ll do to me.”
“Ah, querida,” he sighed, his cock jumping at her softly spoken words. “You know what, though? Is okay to be scared.”
*** *** ***
Is okay to be scared. Is okay to be scared.
She gasped as he backed her toward the wall, pinning her with his body. While she was still processing his heat and his closeness, his mouth closed over hers in a ravishing kiss. His tongue warred with hers, his hands roving over her stomach, her waist. His palm slid lower to press against her pussy through her sleep pants. Oh God, his fingers. He could make her do anything with those fingers. She didn’t want him to stop but some self-preserving impulse made her push him away.
“No,” she said. “Haven’t you been listening?”
“I’ve been listening. You’re just not making any sense.”
&
nbsp; “Rubio—”
He made a quelling sound and threaded a hand through the back of her hair, massaging her nape. His touch hypnotized her, quieting the alarm bells in her brain. She wanted to stop him, but more than that, she wanted to feel the full force of his sexuality. Just one night. What could it hurt? This was too thrilling not to experience, just this once...
She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the pull between them, the attraction she’d stuffed down since the second they’d first touched. He kissed her, rough and hard, as she clung to him. His hands strayed to her breasts, squeezing them through her faded tee shirt. The grasping pressure felt so good that she moaned against his lips. There was some wildness in him that made her forget caution and discipline, and the control she’d honed all her life.
“Yes, please,” she whispered. “More.”
He gazed at her, his lips parted. In one fluid movement he had her tee up and off, so she stood before him bared to the waist. When she moved to cover herself, he took her hands and trapped them behind her back, and bent to kiss her. His teeth closed on her lower lip in a teasing bite and she sucked in a breath. That moment, when he trapped her and bit her, that was the moment she knew she was lost. She struggled against the cage of him, but only to make him hold her harder. She wanted these intense games he played. She wanted him just as he was, commanding and carnal. She wanted him to hurt her and make her feel.
He gave a growling sound, the perfect accompaniment to her thoughts. His roving hand found her nipple and pinched until she shied away in agony and desire. She buried her head against the side of his neck, pleading for God knew what. Please, please, please... He left her nipple and grabbed her ass, pulling her forward against him. She could feel his cock through his jeans, a thick, threatening outline to go with his brutal grip on her wrists.
“I want to fuck you, Petra,” he said, pulling away from her. His dark eyes glittered with mayhem. “That’s what you need, yes? To get fucked like a naughty little slut?” He emphasized both fucked and slut with violent urgency.
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