No, her Masters.
Carlos pressed her back against his chest and cupped her breasts. His long, capable fingers began to roll and twist her nipples, already sensitive from their earlier play. God, he knew just how to touch her, just how to make her lose control. His erection pressed against her back, slick with her sweat as she ground back against him.
His voice whispered into her ear, “You look so beautiful, so alive. I love to watch him eat you, love knowing that my good girl is obeying me. Knowing how hard it is for you not to lose control.”
She whimpered and laid her head back on his shoulder. In the darkness of her imagination Morgan’s hands caressed her legs, his teeth nipped at the hood of her clit. It was perfect, the men she was falling in love with sharing her and giving her all their attention, all their love. With them she was beautiful, always cherished and wanted. Emotions mixed with her passion and she had to swallow past tears.
Carlos must have felt the change in her because he murmured, “I’ve got you. Let it go. You’re safe.”
His words sliced through her heart. Safe, she was safe here with them. Between her legs, Master Vince started a rhythm of sucking and licking that was so similar to how Morgan ate her pussy that she found herself plunging headfirst into her fantasy. Carlos continued to pet and stroke her, giving her the affection she craved. His hips rocked into her back, the head of his cock slick with his pre-cum.
“Come for us,” he whispered and pinched her nipples, hard.
A second later Master Vince latched on to her clit and held it between his teeth while he flicked his tongue over it. The ache that had wound her body up tight enough to break intensified until she thought she would lose her mind. She made little mindless begging noises and then peaked when Carlos slid his wet finger into her anus. “You have no idea how much I want to plunge my cock into that tight, pink ass of yours.”
The overstimulation went from being too much to just enough and she screamed. The orgasm tore through her body, ripping her mind apart until she had no conscious thought. Just like Morgan, the man between her legs continued to suck and lick her, drawing out contractions to the point of pain.
She tried to jerk her body away from him, “Enough, Morgan, please.”
Carlos froze behind her and said in a shocked voice, “What did you say?”
The mouth between her legs disappeared and she felt a chill work to the base of her soul. Oh no, what had she done? Panic suffused her and she tried to think of something, anything to say. Feeling horribly exposed and vulnerable, she jerked at the chains. “Let me down!”
The door on the other side of the room opened and she tugged at the blindfold, wincing as she pulled some of her hair out while trying to get it off. She squinted past the glare of the lights as she looked for Carlos, filled with shame and embarrassment. But most of all, filled with fear. Carlos knew who Morgan was, had picked up her phone when Morgan had called while they were on a date and asked who he was. She hadn’t lied, at the time priding herself on her honesty. Now she bitterly wished she had.
There couldn’t be any bigger betrayal than calling your lover by the wrong name during sex.
She kept her eyes on the ground and said again in a shrill voice, “Unchain me!”
Carlos’ feet came into her line of sight and he tried to make her look at him. “Violet, we need to talk.”
She felt as if she was going to throw up as saliva filled her mouth and her stomach lurched. Tearing at the bindings of the cuffs she managed to get one off and broke off the tip of one fingernail. The pain stung and the sight of her blood in the lights did nothing for her nausea.
Carlos quickly removed the second cuff and grabbed her wrists. “You’re hurting yourself. Stop freaking out for a moment.”
Still filled with the fading rush of endorphins from their play, her heart slammed her chest and she began to hyperventilate. His hands on her wrists made her panic, made her feel trapped. She had to get out of here, had to run away. A failure, a disappointment, she was a horrible person who didn’t deserve his trust. There was only one way to get him to let her go. She screamed her safe word. “Crimson!”
Immediately his hands released her and she ran from the room. Sprinting to his bedroom, she slammed the door and grabbed her clothes from where they were neatly folded on his bed. The bed that she had shared with him, the bed where he looked into her eyes as he moved within her and she felt like the most amazing woman in the world.
A strangled cry worked its way out of her throat and she fumbled with the shirt he had bought for her. Her bra strap stuck out and she pulled up her jeans with shaking hands. Her mind was filled with a roaring white noise, punctuated by the voice of her mother, and worse yet, her own voice condemning her as a whore. She had hurt Carlos so bad. If she wasn’t such a slut, this would have never happened.
Grabbing her purse and jacket from the dresser she glanced at herself in the mirror. Mascara ran down her cheeks and her lipstick was a forgotten smear across her face. She used the edge of her shirt to try to wipe it away and gave up, unable to face herself. How could she have thought of herself as looking pretty when she left the house? She was a fat, red-faced mess who could never hope to hold on to someone like Carlos. Especially when she was the one who had betrayed him. If he had called out another woman’s name in bed, she would have been furious and devastated. She couldn’t imagine it would be any different for him. He had been willing to do anything for her, to fulfill her every fantasy, and she couldn’t even stay faithful to him in her mind.
The door opened and the kindness in his voice cut her like a whip. “I wish you would stay.”
Her words came out in a garbled mess. “I can’t.”
She couldn’t hear what he said next past the pounding of her heart in her ears. Brushing past him, she jerked his hand off her arm and ran out the front door.
Chapter Nine
Morgan sat on Violet’s couch, giving a grunting Adam a good scratch behind his ears. On the other end of the couch, Violet stared at the TV and he knew she wasn’t even aware of what was on the screen. Guilt twisted his stomach and he gently pushed Adam away, turning to face Violet. It killed him that the woman he loved and his best friend were hurting so badly and he was partially responsible for this mess. Problem was he couldn’t think of a way to make it better that wouldn’t involve telling Violet the truth and right now he was pretty sure that would mean the end of everything.
Canned laughter from the TV cut through the silence of her small living room and Violet didn’t even crack a smile. She had tried to cancel their date tonight, claiming that she had a hard day at work, but he had persisted. Not only because he wanted—needed—to see her but because Carlos was going out of his mind. Not that Morgan could blame him. She wouldn’t return any of Carlos’ calls or emails and he knew that if he was in Carlos’ shoes he’d be devastated.
When she had answered the door he had been shocked by the dark circles beneath her eyes and began to worry that she really was sick. Then she had fallen into his arms and cried until his shirt was soaked and she was a limp weight against him. All of his efforts to get her to talk about it had met a brick wall and she had barely eaten any of the Chinese takeout he had brought with him.
Adam made a little whining noise and nudged at Violet’s hand until she mechanically stroked his soft muzzle. With her hair back in a ponytail and no makeup she looked young and vulnerable and his Dom heart demanded he fix this situation. She glanced at Morgan and then back to the TV again. “Sorry I’m not much fun tonight. I won’t blame you if you want to leave me.”
He frowned and tugged her closer until she rested on his lap. The soft press of her curves into his lap aroused him, but he willed his body to relax. “Why would I leave you, Violet?”
She pushed against his chest and tried to sit up. “Huh?”
“You said that you wouldn’t blame me if I wanted to leave you.”
“Oh.”
She tried to look away but he held
her face in his hands and made her gaze meet his. “Is this about the other guy you’re dating, Carlos? Did he do something to hurt you?” His mind called himself all kinds of names like liar, manipulator and bastard, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth.
“I was horrible to him. I—” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What?”
He ran his thumb over her lips, glad to see a little bit of life return to her beautiful eyes. “I said that’s not fair. Violet, I care deeply about you, and I assume Carlos does as well. Beyond that, I know you don’t have a malicious bone in your body. Now please tell me what happened and maybe I can give you a guy’s perspective.”
She blushed, then paled, then blushed again. “I can’t—won’t go into the details, but I can assure you that what I did was just terrible.”
He continued to stroke her, firm touches that helped her body to relax even as her mind raced. “Did he break up with you?”
She squirmed on his lap. “Not exactly.”
“Did he yell at you and call you names? Tear out his hair and curse you?”
That got the ghost of a smile to hover across her lips. “No.”
“Then maybe it’s not as bad as you think it is.” He swung her around until she straddled his lap. The warmth of the junction of her thighs seeped through his jeans and this time he let his body respond, let her know that he found pleasure in touching her. “Why don’t you talk to him?”
She frowned down at him, the freckles on her nose crinkling. “Shouldn’t you be urging me to break up with him?”
He shrugged and rested his hands on her full hips. “Maybe, but more than anything else I want you to be happy, and this guy seems to make you happy.” The feeling of her warm, silky skin beneath his fingers as he slipped his hands beneath the edge of her shirt sent a rush of blood to his cock. “I’ve shared women before with my best friend, and while the relationships didn’t work out for a variety of reasons, it was never because she was seeing both of us.”
She gaped at him and said, “At the same time?”
“Yep. It eliminated the problem of her feeling neglected when my work demanded my attention and I trusted Ca-Carson.”
Her fair eyebrows scrunched together. “That’s weird.”
“Some would say that having an orgasm from being spanked is weird.”
She blushed and fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. “I’ll think about it.”
His thumbs brushed over her nipples behind the satin of her bra and he enjoyed the sensation of the tips growing hard beneath his strokes almost as much as he liked the sudden hunger in her gaze. “Talk to this guy, decide how you want things to go. Just know that I’ll still be here for you and that I care for you very,” he pinched her nipples and pulled her closer as she sighed and pressed her pussy against his cock, “very much.”
* * * * *
Violet hummed along to the melodic strains of Enya as she carefully worked her way around the withered mass of muscle along the six-year-old girl’s calf. Sunlight streamed through the window of the long-term care room of the pediatric ward and made the bright-yellow-and-green quilt covering the bed glow. Every once in a while a beep from one device or another would sound from one of the machines, but neither of them noticed.
It was late afternoon and Violet spent every Thursday at the Detroit Children’s Hospital working as a touch volunteer. She was part of a study that Jason from work had introduced her to. They were trying to document the effectiveness of touch on helping people heal, especially children. Jason’s wife, Dilsay, was a respiratory therapist for the hospital and recommended them both. The theory was that the patient’s body and immune system would respond to a loving touch, and actually help heal the patient.
For Violet it went deeper than that. She had always wanted to be a nurse but had never gotten around to going to college for it. First it was her maternal grandmother falling ill her freshman year of college. Her mother had come close to falling apart after her grandmother’s death and with her father traveling all the time for work, and Penny busy with her life, Violet had been the only one who could be there with her. Violet had dropped out of Michigan State and moved closer to home where she attended a local college and had attained her Associate’s Degree in physical therapy with a specialization in therapeutic massage. With the job market as bad as it was, she considered herself lucky to have been hired so quickly by the spa, and even though it wasn’t where she had envisioned herself, she was glad to have any job.
Truth be told, she loved making people happy and she didn’t know anyone who didn’t walk away from a good massage feeling better. Alia moaned softly as Violet’s fingers traced over a nasty bruise on her foot. “They couldn’t get a vein in your arm again, could they?” Violet asked in a soft voice.
“No. They tried but they had to put the chemo IV in my foot again.” Alia relaxed as Violet avoided the purple and yellow splotch on Alia’s pretty mahogany skin.
Violet willed herself to relax and think positive, healing thoughts and prayers. Her ex-fiancé, a pediatric heart surgeon who she met at this hospital, had laughed when she told him about envisioning sending healing vibes to her patients while she massaged them. But she believed deep in her heart that it helped. Sometimes she could almost see the energy that flowed from her into her patient, and she often left those massage sessions feeling lightheaded and very tired. Oh, there was probably some scientific explanation for it, but that didn’t stop her from praying with all her heart.
The door squeaked open and Nurse Eric carried in a tray and said in a mellow voice, “Time for lunch, sweet Alia.” It was hard to tell how old he was behind his gray beard, but the kids adored him and Violet looked up to him. Kind, smart and compassionate, he personified the kind of nurse she wanted to be someday.
With a last stroke over the girl’s sunken cheeks, Violet placed a kiss on her forehead. Alia’s parents lived a four-hour drive away and they came every chance they had, but they still had to work and take care of her two little brothers. “You better clean your plate, miss.”
Alia rolled her eyes. “You sound like my mom.”
Violet winked at her. “Thank you. That’s the best compliment I’ve received today.”
It took her only a few minutes to pack up her things as Eric helped Alia sit up and placed pillows around her so she wouldn’t have to strain to hold herself upright. The room still smelled like the vanilla lotion she used for Alia and Violet smiled as she tucked a drawing Alia had made for her into her bag. Old regret washed through her as she wished for the millionth time that she could work here all the time, but this was a volunteer-based study and it wasn’t receiving a lot of funding. The bank accounts tended to open for the drug-based studies or hard scientific facts, but touch therapy was considered by many in the scientific community to be one small step above carnival faith healers.
Violet blew Alia a kiss and was about to head out the door when Eric said, “Hold on one sec.”
He joined her in the hallway right outside the room. “I just wanted to let you know that after one of your sessions Alia eats more than she ever does and her pain tolerance goes way up. I know that you guys get a lot of flak from some of the docs here, but the nurses believe in you.”
Unexpected tears stung Violet’s eyes and she had to blink them away. “Thank you.”
Eric gave her shoulder a squeeze and glanced back at Alia through the window. “Alia’s parents wanted to know if you had a business card. They would like to hire you to come in and work on Alia some more.”
“Oh, uh I have one…let me look…” She dug through her satchel and tried to swallow back her tears again. After fumbling out a card and handing it to him she rubbed her eyes. “Sorry ’bout the waterworks.”
“Hey, you don’t need to apologize to me.” He smacked his forehead. “I almost forgot, there is a young man waiting for you in the coffee shop
. Said his name is Carlos and that Bethany sent him.”
The floor seemed to sink beneath Violet’s feet and Eric reached out a hand to steady her. “Carlos?”
“Yeah.” He frowned and studied her. “You need me to call security?”
“No!” She dug a tissue out of her bag and tried to wipe her eyes without smearing her makeup. “He’s my boyfriend, we had a fight.” It sounded really lame when she said it like that, but it was true. “Please extend my thanks to Alia’s parents for thinking of me.”
Eric edged toward the doorway, obviously eager to get back to his young patient. “No problem. Have some faith in yourself, kid. You’re more amazing than you know.”
Violet smiled faintly at him and made her way to the elevators. Trust Bethany to take matters into her own hands and give Violet a push, whether she liked it or not. With her lips pressed into a firm line, she punched the number for the spa into her phone and stood against the wall as a group of people waited for the elevator.
“Volun’s Day Spa, Betha—”
“You have no manners at all,” Violet said in a hissing whisper into her phone.
Bethany laughed. “You’ve known me for five years and you just figured that out?”
“You—”
“Amazingly awesome woman?”
Violet closed her eyes, willing herself not to smile. “Hardly.”
“What’s your problem? You have lover boy, the talented photographer, meeting you at the hospital for a fun afternoon, ready for a hot bout of make-up sex after whatever stupid argument you had that you won’t tell me about. I wish I had a problem like that. This is the perfect opportunity to ask him to donate something for the hospital’s fundraiser.”
Violet turned her back on the crowd waiting for the elevator. “You know I feel weird about that.”
Blushing Violet Page 11
