by Jenna Elliot
I really try.
But it’s like holding back lightning. Need crackles through my veins, thundering through me. Impossible to resist.
“Cum for me, Mia.” His voice penetrates my senses.
I shatter again. Gloriously. Endlessly.
I’m undone. Limp. I sink back, unable to support myself on boneless arms, so sated I don’t think I can move, even if he gives me permission. My brain has short-circuited. Every nerve ending has fried.
Oh, my God. He’s damn incredible. The pleasure he gives me is so worth waiting for, it’s worth everything I have to give.
I should be scared of that thought. But how can I be scared when my body is so content?
Maybe that’s the danger—becoming addicted to so much pleasure. Becoming addicted to him.
He climbs from the pool, looking like some god from a fantasy movie with the water droplets clinging to his powerful shoulders. I can’t do anything but stare as he crouches down beside me, and scoops me into his arms. I burrow my face against his chest. I feel like I’m floating.
He carries me to the shower and turns on the water. Propping me against him, he holds me close as the water rushes over us, rinsing off the paint, rinsing away the last of my inhibitions. I don’t ever want this moment to end.
I’m his. He can do whatever he wants with me.
For now.
15
Ethan
I CAN’T REMEMBER a more passionate pet than Mia. That might even be a good thing, except I’m still ready to rock and roll, and she’s worn out, eyes glazed by orgasms. Her lids droop, her whole body is limp like she might curl up and go to sleep if I let her go. Obviously, I don’t.
I figure sex is like training for a marathon. Haven’t thought about it that way before. Probably because I haven’t housebroken a pet in a long time. And never as fresh as this babe in my arms. My other pets at least understood the game. And most were playing a long time. They always have stamina.
Mia and I will have to work up to all-nighters. I don’t want her sore. I don’t want her to faint again. And I sure as hell don’t want her going through the motions half asleep.
Instead of fucking her in the shower, I lather a loofah and wash her back. She nestles against me, and smiles like she’s pretty damned happy with the way she feels right now. That’s what I was going for, so I should be good, right?
I consider that as I direct her to lean against my chest, so I can maneuver the soapy loofah over curvy hips and lush ass. That ass. The sound of her climax still rings in my ears. I have plans for her and that ass.
Down, boy.
I distract myself by cleansing away my masterpiece, enjoying the sight of her skin with the soap rinsing away, enjoying the feel of her all soapy and curvy against me even more. Every inch of her is firm and toned and silky under my callused fingertips. She has such a hot body. Not emaciated. Not thick. Athletically healthy. The kind of body built for endurance. She’ll go all night easy once we train.
“You feel nice,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the splashing water.
“Good to know.” But I don’t know if she’s talking about my body or the rock-hard dick that keeps brushing up against her.
Soaping my hand, I ease my fingers through her creases. She doesn’t flinch. She’s becoming accustomed to my touch. And when I work the loofah between her legs, her thighs fall open.
My dick pounds some more.
If I hadn’t cum in her mouth, I’d be up shit’s creek right now. Either that, or satisfying myself on her half-awake self. Neither option appeals to me. That kind of comes at me sideways. What is it about this sleepy babe that’s making me all Captain America? Since when am I more worried about a babe than easing the beast inside me?
Now, there’s a question.
As if sensing my conflict, she opens her eyes and looks up at me, her face full of wonder. “I didn’t know my body could feel so many things.”
“There’s more I want to show you.” A fucking serious amount of more.
“Will it always feel like tonight?” Her question reminds me again of how much she doesn’t know.
That’s what’s happening here. I’m just switching gears. I sent the last babe packing and didn’t go looking for a new babe. She kind of found me. I usually do a stalker-prey thing when I’m on the prowl for a new pet. Cleanses my palate and puts me back on my game. That’s the challenge. Getting to know a pet’s body, testing her limits.
I didn’t go looking for Mia. As a result, we’ve gone about things ass-backward. Fucking first. Laying the ground rules after . . .
“There are lots of ways to feel pleasure. Some you’ll like, others you won’t,” I explain.
“Is that the pleasure and pain you were talking about?” Her pupils darken and she chews on her bottom lip, rousing a little. “I don’t—”
“You won’t know what you like unless you try new things.”
The same applies to me, I decide. I’ve done just about everything a red-blooded male could want to do, but this whole housebreaking a puppy could be considered new turf.
Satisfied by the thought, I reach for the shampoo. She’s got this hair—soft to the touch and curly and wild. It clings to her neck and shoulders and halfway down her back right now, but it doesn’t look nearly so long when it’s dry.
“Tip your head back,” I tell her, and she instantly complies, arching her back in the process and treating me to the sight of water sluicing over her breasts. Full ripe breasts with that freshly-fucked glow. Like a mouth that has just been thoroughly kissed.
Takes effort not to grab those firm tits in my hands and push her onto her knees so I can ride my hard dick between them. Instead, I cool my jets and shampoo her hair, threading my finger through the lather, directing her head back beneath the spray.
But I’m only a guy with a rock-hard dick. I can’t resist the tits for long. I use the loofah again to make sure I cleanse away every bit of paint when I really want to grab on her nipples and start working her up again. All this unrestrained, untutored passion of hers . . .
Christ almighty. I maneuver her around again so her tits aren’t tempting me. I rest my dick in the crack of her ass and will myself to calm the fuck down. This is the game. I like the game. It distracts me from the beast. I’m just edgy tonight.
She melts against me, molding my dick to her ass.
My balls are so tight, they hurt.
“I suppose I’m just as afraid of liking these new things as not liking them,” she says wistfully.
Her honesty comes as a shocker. So does the impulse to reassure her, to tell her she can trust me with all her greedy dark passions. What the hell is wrong with me tonight?
I’m sleeping like crap. Even napping blows up in my face. God damn nightmares. Now I’m so fucking tired, I’m not even thinking straight.
I toss the loofah onto a shelf and grab the soap to lather myself, scrubbing my skin rigorously as if I can scrub away all this crazy shit going through my head.
Mia may be fresh. But she’s just another pet. One more in a string of so many I don’t even remember when I lost count.
But if that’s the case, why couldn’t I hold back earlier? That doesn’t happen. That never happens.
What’s up with Mia? She looks at me with those big doe eyes, all soft and needy. She wants something from me, and I don’t have it to give. Never have it to give.
“I’m willing to try, Ethan.” And there’s something so earnest in her voice. Like she wants me for something more than my dick. Like wrapping my arms around her, pillowing her head on my chest. Dream peaceful sweet dreams. She wants me to be her safe place.
Whoa. Fucking whoa. This is crazy shit in my head. I can’t trust myself. I can’t trust my beast.
“Sir,” I correct her with a sharp growl and pull away.
She’s afraid I’ve withdrawn because she’s not saying what she thinks I want to hear.
I let her think that. It is way the fuck better
than her realizing I’m an out-of-control nightmare tonight. She needs to get the hell out of here. I’m not her safe place. I’m no one’s safe place—not even my own.
Because I’m fucked up. Doesn’t matter that she doesn’t know the game and doesn’t understand I screwed up and lost control. That shit doesn’t matter one bit. I know. I let her need seduce me and my dick. And now the beast is raring to get loose.
I am so done. Fucking done with my ping-ponging reactions and the Captain America routine.
“Trying isn’t enough.” My voice is raw, like glass over gravel, revealing more than I’m prepared to deal with, never mind let her see. I guide her from the shower and hand her a thick terry cloth bath towel. “You have to obey me without thinking.”
She clutches the towel in front of her, dripping water on the floor, clearly confused by my about face.
“Dry off,” I bark.
Her eyes widen in surprise. For a moment, she just stands there, clearly hurt, then she snaps a salute. “Yes, sir.”
I’m an asshole. Such an asshole. And with her needy, little, sweet ass she doesn’t deserve to deal with my shit.
I force out words I don’t want to say. “Remember when I told you there’d be consequences for disrespect?” I point to her clothes folded in a cubby. “Get dressed and go home.”
Her mouth drops open. All remnants of sleep vanish, replaced by shock and confusion. “Are you for real?”
As real as I get. All I know is I’m done right now. It costs, costs me big, but I grab my pants and walk away without looking back. I pull the door shut behind me, hoping to hell she has no clue how much I don’t want to walk away.
16
Ethan
“YOU LEFT EARLY last night,” Ace says from behind his huge black desk, a custom-designed motherfucker, of course. The dude’s into black and luxe, big time.
In his private sanctum, even the walls are black, the art comprised of masterpieces and a silk rug that’s one-of-a-kind. A fucking museum. His own version of Versailles.
The décor reflects Ace’s success, but he doesn’t bring his pets or his party-boy breeziness into his private sanctum. He doesn’t bring too many in here. I was at the club well over a year before I earned an invite.
Helping myself to his private label scotch, I sink into a butter-soft leather chair that probably costs more than my Ducati.
“What happened?” Ace prods some more. “She annoy you or just wear you out?”
I scowl. “Wear me out? You know that shit doesn’t happen, so quit busting my balls.”
He smiles, seeing way more than I’m willing to admit to tonight.
Ace is hard to figure. He doesn’t need anyone, but he’s everyone’s friend. He lives to be in the limelight, but he’s equally possessive of his privacy. He’s got a ruthless business reputation that fascinates me. He started this club and owns a string of them from New York to Vegas. But the clubs are only one of his enterprises.
He can be all business, or he can party with governors, admirals, or frat boys. He’s been feeling me out for months now, asking all kinds of questions, but not dropping too many hints about why he’s interested.
I let him steer the conversation. “Mia’s brand spanking new to the scene. I wore her out.”
Ace leans back in his chair and steeples his hands in front of him. “You spanked her?”
“In a manner of speaking.” I haven’t called her yet. I’m driving home a point. One for her and one for me. Because every time I think of her my cock throbs. My mouth waters. I need to get a grip before I pick up the phone.
Ace arches a black brow. He’s as blond as my dick is big, but he’s got intense black eyes that make the babes fucking fall all over themselves. He is a master at every level. His pets love him and he loves lavishing them with expensive gifts. He bores easily. Obviously, I’m not holding his interest tonight because he changes the subject.
“Make plane reservations for the wedding yet?”
I shake my head. Sip my scotch. One of the clubs’ past headliners is tying the knot. Ace and I are invited to the private island Caribbean nuptials. “My assistant quit, and I’m short-handed. I’m not even sure I can get away.”
“Hire a temp. I have two extra seats on the jet.”
“Who’s not going?”
“Jax.”
“Everything okay?”
Ace inclines his head. “Something’s up with one of the training classes. He needs to see it through.”
Given Jax’s line of kink, scheduling conflicts are bound to arise. “Thanks, but if I go, I’ll be going solo.”
“Really.” Ace pushes his chair back and heads to the bar. He splashes himself a few fingers and considers me over the rim of the glass. “I’m bringing the twins. I don’t mind sharing.”
Shit, I know that. Everyone around here knows that. He’s not changing the subject, he’s mind-fucking me, trying to figure out what went on with Mia last night. Everyone knows when I hook up with a pet, I’m exclusive. Until I figure out what the hell to do with Mia . . .
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” I don’t give him shit.
He doesn’t understand my exclusivity rule because he doesn’t do exclusive. Not ever. But he does respect boundaries—as long as they don’t interfere with his party. And if he doesn’t want to take the time to get to get more than skin-deep with his subs, that’s his choice.
Tilting the glass to his lips, he waits. He knows something’s up, and is giving me a chance to spill if I want. I don’t want. I drink his liquor, hoping the pricey stuff will soothe the beast better than the cheap stuff.
Finally, he gets tired of waiting. “I’m opening another club. Ever since E.L. James wrote Fifty Shades of Grey, business has been booming. Chicks are coming into the clubs out of curiosity, and the guys are following them. Jax and I are thinking you might run the new club for us.”
So there it is. A year ago, I would have jumped at the offer. But I’m raking in the bucks. My custom paint jobs are bringing in high-end customers. I’m busy. Not sure I want more responsibility or work.
But Ace’s offer can’t be taken lightly. Dude is a serious heavy-hitter with a network that spans the globe. I am very, very cognizant of the honor he’s paying me.
“Where are you thinking of opening?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Not too far away. Miami. I’ve already bought the lot. Construction should be wrapped in another few weeks. I’m working on bringing in a headliner.”
“Who?”
“Dude in Vegas. I’ve seen him work. The subs adore him. Even the other doms give him respect.”
“Sounds like you have it all under control.” No surprises there. And Miami is doable. I can spend my nights at the club, my days at the shop—just like always.
Leaning over his desk, he grabs a folder and hands it to me. “Details are in here, along with our offer. Think about it. Let me know.”
“You got it, Ace. Thanks.”
We shake hands, and I leave. I head to the elevator, turning over their offer in my head. I’d be crazy to pass up the chance. If I took the offer, I wouldn’t just be a partner. Ace and Jax would introduce me to a network of the big boys, the movers and shakers. The big leagues. But by the time elevator opens on the ground floor and the pulsing sound of live music assaults me, I forgot all about the offer, and I’m back to deliberating if I want to call Mia.
I have a timing issue to deal with if I go to the wedding. I can’t leave her hanging until I get back. Not when her car’s still sitting in my shop.
I head toward the bar, thinking I’ll grab another drink—or a bottle—and hole up in my studio. But before I make the bar, I’m seeing tropical waters and Mia naked in my arms on a beach.
Fucking A. No way can I take her to a wedding. She’d get the wrong idea. Pets and weddings don’t mix.
Ace manages it. But I’m not Ace. I don’t know what the fuck Jax is—he’s super wealthy, a loner and to him pain and pleasure are one and the
same. But I’m not that fucked up and while I’m comfortable, I’m not mega rich. I can’t buy off the babes with new cars or Cartier bling like they can.
I redirect. Tucking the offer underneath my arm, I head toward the door, suddenly not in the mood to be here. Scotch isn’t going to soothe the beast tonight—pricey or otherwise.
I head back to the shop to see if Mia’s new fender showed up on today’s truck.
17
Mia
“AMELIA, YOU’RE still crushing on the guy.” Emme points out the obvious. “But it’s time to move on.”
We’re at my apartment, and even though days have passed since our night at the club, I’m still obsessing over what happened between me and Ethan.
Since I’m out of college trying to figure out my next move, I have way too much time to think. Emme’s still in college and working hard to keep herself there, so she’s been too busy to come by. Of course, she has devoted every free minute to listening to me obsess via phone and text. So, she gets props for that. Now she finally shows up to talk me down. With coffee, of course.
We head out to the balcony. I need fresh air. My apartment isn’t big, but it does have a great view of the intracoastal waterway. And a parent-approved doorman and secure garage to keep me safe.
She plunks down on a chair and props her feet up on the railing. “Just hear me out. This is new to you. You hooked up with a guy on the side of the road. He was your knight in shining armor—”
“He ran me off the road.”
She rolls her eyes. “You went for it, and you had a blast.”
No argument there. I sip my coffee, hoping she had the foresight to bring decaf. I don’t need caffeine winding me up any more than I’m wound already, thank you very much. I haven’t slept more than a few hours at a pop in days.
“I saw Ethan, honey. He’s not your usual fare. You can’t slap normal relationship expectations on a man like him. He invited you to a sex club, for God’s sake.” She shakes her head. “You and I both had fun that night. But it was just fun. Nothing more. There was no way you were ending with happily ever after.”
