by Julia Sykes
“God’s going to punish everyone involved,” I declared, hating every word that left my mouth. This op was going to be more difficult to stomach than I’d imagined.
I needed a drink.
No. I couldn’t hit the hard stuff while I was on a job.
There was one other way I knew to calm my nerves. I could hardly wait to get to Dusk and blow off some steam. If Lissa was there again, I would simply turn her down. No matter how forward she was with me.
I took a sip of my beer and proceeded to spew vitriol. The men around me smiled and nodded in agreement. Quiet rage built in my heart with every word I said, filling it until it was close to bursting. My body didn’t betray the visceral disgust that had taken hold of my soul. I internalized the tension, burying it deep.
Later. I’ll deal with it later.
I hoped to hell Lissa wasn’t at Dusk. Because after enduring this, I wasn’t at all sure I would have enough self-control left to resist her.
Chapter 7
Lissa
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I asked hesitantly.
“Stop asking me that,” Sydney chided. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t okay with it.” She slid a plastic glass filled with pink liquid across the bar so it sat directly in front of me. “Relax. Have a drink.”
I sniffed at it. “Cosmo?”
“Cranberry juice,” she laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t get you drunk. I know you’re a lightweight. I don’t want you slurring all over Ian.”
“Good call.” I lifted the cup and tapped it against her identical drink. “Is yours virgin, too?”
She smirked. “Is it ever? I like my cranberry juice flavored with vodka.”
“More like the other way around,” I teased. “Shouldn’t you stay sober if you’re here? I read that you’re not supposed to drink before you play.”
“Who says I’m playing tonight? I’m here strictly for support. If you hook up with Ian, I’m out of here. I have a hot date in a couple of hours.”
“And you still came here with me? Thanks, Syd.”
She flicked her fingers, waving away my apology. “My date can wait a little while. This might be your last chance to get with Ian.”
I sighed. “He might not even come.”
She nudged my cranberry juice. “Then we’ll just have a drink and chat. Drink up.” She tipped back her own beverage and took a long swallow. I shook my head at her, but I did the same. Vodka burned down my throat, and I spluttered at the unexpected sensation.
“Oops!” Sydney snatched the cup out of my hand, switching with me. “I must have mixed them up.”
“You did that on purpose,” I accused, coughing.
She shrugged, not in the least bit contrite. “I might not plan to get you drunk, but you do need to loosen up. One sip won’t hurt you.”
“You’re a bad influence.”
She pressed her hands together as though in prayer. “Your mom says I’m a saint.”
“My mom doesn’t know you convinced me to come to a BDSM club,” I grumbled.
“Hey! You already came here. I just happen to be with you this time.”
“Touché.”
“You’re damn right, touché,” she declared. “And it’s a good thing you have me as an influence.” She gave me a quick once-over. “You look hot. You’re welcome.”
“Are you sure it’s not too much?” I tugged up on the scandalously low sweetheart-cut corset. “I don’t think this is big enough for me.”
She snorted. “That’s because you have awesome boobs. Don’t complain. In fact, I don’t think you’ll hear any of the men here complaining.”
“I’m not complaining,” the bartender chimed in. I glanced up to find his dark eyes dancing. His expression was decidedly playful, not lecherous.
“You see?” Sydney pressed. “No one minds.”
“Stick close to the bar. I’ll make so much in tips with you around.” He winked at me. “Men like to impress pretty women like that.”
I smiled. “In that case, I’m happy to help. I’ll probably be here all night anyway.”
“Hey, your man might show up,” Sydney encouraged. “The night is young.”
“Your man?” The bartender asked. “You can’t be talking about Ian.”
I blinked, surprised. “How do you know I’m talking about Ian?”
“I’ve seen you with him a couple times. In fact, it’s the only time I’ve seen him with the same woman twice. He likes to play the field.”
My heart sank. “Oh.”
“So he comes here a lot?” Sydney rested her elbows on the bar and leaned into the conversation.
“Just over the last month,” he said. “He’s been here almost every night we’ve been open, though. We’re closed Sunday through Tuesday. Otherwise, he’s here.” He frowned.
“Is that a bad thing?” I questioned, not understanding his disapproving expression.
“He doesn’t seem like a bad guy. He’s definitely skilled at what he does. I’ve seen him do a few scenes. But he doesn’t do aftercare. Always arranges to have someone else do it for him. I have a hard time respecting him as a Dom if he can’t look after his partners.”
“Hmmm.” Sydney pursed her lips together, pondering that. “But you said he’s never been with a woman more than once?”
“Nope. Not until you, gorgeous,” he directed at me.
“You see, Liss?” Sydney said triumphantly. “He’s totally into you. And if he doesn’t do aftercare, he probably has intimacy issues. That’s why he freaked out when you kissed him. So just don’t do that, and you’ll be fine.”
“How can you have him all figured out like that?” I asked, bemused.
She tapped the side of her head with a red-tipped finger. “Psych major, remember?” She turned her attention to the bartender, batting her lashes. “Can you do us a favor, handsome?”
“It’s Mark,” he clarified. “And for you ladies, anything.”
“Mark,” she smiled around his name. “If Ian comes in, could you flirt with Lissa?”
“Sydney!” I gasped.
Mark grinned. “You’re trying to make him jealous.”
“That’s the plan,” my traitorous friend confirmed. She glanced at me. “You knew that was the plan.”
“I didn’t know you were going to ask someone to flirt with me! I’m capable of doing that on my own.” My cheeks burned.
Sydney elbowed my side. “Then go on, girl. Flirt.”
I ground my teeth. “Stop embarrassing me!”
“You’re cute when you blush,” Mark remarked. “Doms like that.”
Sydney poked me with her elbow again, silently prompting.
I crossed my arms, feeling mutinous. Mark’s eyes went straight to my cleavage.
“That’ll do it,” Sydney said in a sing-song voice.
Jerking my arms away from my boobs, I planted my hands firmly on my hips, where they couldn’t possibly make me look lewd.
“Is this guy bothering you?” I instantly recognized Ian’s angry growl.
I spun to face him, wobbling on my barstool. His warm hands closed around my upper arms, steadying me. He was glaring over my shoulder, his ire directed at the bartender.
“This guy’s name is Mark,” he drawled. “And you’d better be nicer if you want me to make your drinks.”
Ian waved dismissively. “That won’t be a problem.” Sapphire eyes turned on me. “What are you drinking?” His heavy tone let me know my answer was important.
“Just cranberry juice,” I answered quickly.
He gave me a small nod of approval. “Good. I don’t drink and scene.”
“And that’s my cue,” Sydney interjected. “I have a date to get to. Bye, Liss!”
“Bye,” I said breathlessly, not tearing my gaze from Ian’s; I couldn’t.
“Call me tomorrow,” she ordered.
“Sure.” I was barely aware what I was agreeing to. All I could focus on was the incredible multifaceted blue
hues that sparkled through Ian’s eyes.
“I told myself I wouldn’t do this,” he muttered.
I blinked up at him. “Do what?”
“You.”
“What? Oh. You mean…” I trailed off. His face was tight with hunger, and I knew perfectly well what he meant.
“You’re damn right, that’s what I mean. I’ll give you one chance to say no.” He cupped my cheeks in both of his large hands, considering me intently, as though I was a puzzle he could solve if he just studied hard enough. “Because I sure as hell can’t.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “My answer is yes.”
“You need me to do aftercare?” Mark butted in.
Ian glared at him. “You try to touch her, and I’ll break your hands. I’ll take care of my sub.”
He swept me up in his arms and carried me off. It was just like the last time, only hotter somehow. More possessive.
Sydney was right about that, I thought distantly.
He took me straight back to the private rooms, selecting a different one than before. The theme he chose was darker, harsher. I stared at the small dungeon space, complete with a St. Andrew’s Cross, spanking bench, and bondage table.
“We need to discuss your limits.”
My gaze jerked back to his face. His jaw was tight with strain, and I got the feeling he was working to hold himself back from shoving me up against the wall and fucking me.
Heat pulsed between my legs at the prospect. I licked my lips in wanton anticipation. His eyes darkened.
“Lissa,” he prompted, his voice rough with suppressed lust.
What? Oh, limits.
“I don’t really know what they are,” I admitted. “I’m new to all this.”
His expression softened, concern overriding his need. “I don’t want to push you past your comfort zone. Your safe word is red. I want you to use it if you need me to stop.”
“Okay,” I agreed. I’d read about safe words. I understood how important they were in establishing trust.
He relaxed further at my easy compliance, the tension leaving his muscles. He seemed to grow even taller, and his face finally cleared of all frustration. This was the Dom who had held me in his arms and tormented my body with pleasure. He found release in control, just as I found release in ceding control to him.
Unconsciously, I pressed my cheek against his hard chest, melting into him. A small, pleased smile played around his lips.
“You’re too sweet for me, little sub,” he murmured.
I reached up and touched his jaw tenderly. I knew what he needed to hear. He didn’t think he was worthy of kindness, of intimacy. I understood that now. I wanted to erase the pain he held inside.
“You deserve it,” I told him gently.
His eyes widened, and he simply stared down at me for several long seconds. Finally, he swallowed hard and blinked. He carefully set me down on my feet, and for a moment, I worried he might distance himself from me again.
To my surprise, he pressed a swift kiss to my forehead. It was the first time he had initiated intimate contact. The tender act made my clit pulse just as intensely as it had when he was toying with my breasts.
“Stay.” His breath ruffled my hair as he issued the low command. He lingered with me for a moment longer, as though he didn’t want to put space between us. I didn’t want that, either.
When he took a step back, I stepped with him.
His hands closed around my shoulders, directing me back to where I had been standing. His deep blue eyes stared down at me, impressing his will upon me.
“Stay,” he reiterated, more firmly this time. “I’m not going to leave you,” he reassured me gently.
I nodded my understanding, relief flooding me. I didn’t follow him when he moved away. Instead, I patiently waited, watching him cross the room to a black chest of drawers tucked into the corner. He opened the top drawer and quickly found what he wanted.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw what he selected: a coil of rope.
My nipples pebbled against the inside of my corset, and my sex heated.
Bondage. Ian was going to tie me up. I wouldn’t be able to fight. I wouldn’t have the chance to lose control and lash out. He would take on all responsibility for my actions.
A strange sense of lightheadedness overtook me, but it wasn’t at all unpleasant; it was exhilarating. All my concerns fell away, disintegrating to nothing as my whole world shifted to center on him.
He prowled toward me, loosening the neat coil. He wrapped either end around his fists, his corded arms flexing as he tested the rope with a firm tug.
Suddenly, he was standing in front of me. He lifted one hand to my face and traced the rope across my parted lips. The earthy scent of hemp suffused the air around me, and the rough fibers scratched lightly across my sensitive mouth. My nerve endings crackled to life, all my senses sharpening. I sucked in a surprised breath. I never would have imagined such a simple touch could be so erotic.
He moved away from me again, but this time I remained rooted in place. His command for me to stay put kept me immobile. My conscious mind didn’t even process it; I ceded to his will without thought.
His heat pulsed against my back, and his calloused fingertips lightly touched my shoulders, slowly trailing down my arms as he guided them behind me. The roughness of the rope teased across my wrists as he looped it around them, tightening with each pass until they were securely bound at the small of my back.
He entered my line of vision again, and I realized he’d finished his work. I gave an experimental pull on my restraints. The rope didn’t give. It seemed to grow heavier around my wrists, anchoring them in place.
I let out a shuddering sigh, my mind receding further into that light, calm space Ian was creating for me. My thoughts were mercifully quiet, at peace.
His hand slid into my hair, wrapping it around his fist until the tension made my head drop back. I stared up into his sapphire eyes, my breath coming in shallow pants as he pulled insistently downward. One hand supported me at my waist as he guided me to my knees.
The black tiles were cool beneath me, contrasting with the heat rolling off my body. I burned for him, aching for him to touch me.
But I would wait. He would give me pleasure when he wanted to. Right now, he needed to languor in his power over me. It gave him the same sense of calm I found under his domineering hands. I wanted to give that to him, to bring him peace.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered, his deep voice pressing down on me.
I complied without a thought, easing my thighs apart until cold air caressed my burning sex. My short skirt hiked up around my hips, and my skimpy black thong didn’t do much to preserve my modesty; Ian would have a clear view of my wet pussy.
He stared at it, hunger sharpening his features.
“Beautiful,” he praised. His fist eased in my hair, and his fingers ran through it in a show of tender approval. I leaned into his touch, basking in his warm acceptance.
He reached for the tie on his leathers, quickly freeing his cock from where it had strained to get to me. It jutted toward me, moisture beading at the purple head.
I craved to give him the relief he so obviously needed. I opened my mouth and leaned into him, catching the salty drop of pre-cum on my tongue. He hissed in a breath, and his fist tightened in my hair once again, pulling me back.
“I control this,” he ground out.
“Yes, Sir,” I agreed huskily, the honorific coming to me easily.
His eyes flared, and he surged forward, his cock penetrating my mouth in a smooth slide. I rubbed the underside with my tongue as he pulled back out, leaving only the head between my lips. He pushed all the way back in. I opened my throat, taking him completely.
He groaned and eased out of my mouth. “I’m going to come if you keep that up.”
“I want you to.” I craved to give him release.
His countenance hardened with determination. “I don’t. Not yet. I want
to fuck you until you scream out my name while you come all over my cock.”
Before I could begin to come up with a reply, he bent down and picked me up, lifting me as though I weighed nothing. Seconds later, the air whooshed out of me when my abdomen collided with the top of the spanking bench. Ian spread my thighs wide and shoved up my skirt. His large palm cracked across my ass. I gasped at the sharp sensation. It quickly turned to a pleasant heat that sank through my flesh to make my pussy flare even hotter for him. I moaned and edged my hips back toward him as much as I was able, silently begging him to enter me, to bring me release.
Dimly, I registered the sound of a condom wrapper ripping open, and then he shoved my panties aside.
I cried out when he drove into me in one swift thrust. My inner walls stretched painfully at the sudden intrusion; I’d never been with a man as big as Ian. I wasn’t at all sure I could handle him.
A small whimper escaped me, and he stilled. His clever fingers found my clit, rubbing in a controlled, practiced motion. I released a shuddering sigh, and I began to relax around him.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice tight with the effort of restraining himself. “You can take me.”
He drew slowly back out, and the head of his cock dragged across my g-spot.
“Oh, god. Ian,” I moaned his name.
He grunted in approval and drove back in. This time, there was no pain. He picked up a steady, harsh rhythm, thrusting in mercilessly. Every pass over my g-spot sent my pleasure ratcheting higher, and his fingers continued to toy with my clit. I tried to brace myself against the spanking bench, but my arms jerked ineffectually against the rope. The reminder of my restraints, of my utter helplessness to resist him, sent me over the edge.
“Ian!” I screamed out as pleasure crashed over me. Bliss rushed through my veins, flooding my mind.
His rough shout echoed in my ears, and my ecstasy shot impossibly higher in response to bringing him release. My inner walls crackled with the aftershocks of my orgasm as he finished in one final, firm thrust. His cock pulsed inside me as he came.
He collapsed atop me, his weight pressing me down into the cushioned bench. I relished the feel of his heat enfolding me. We lay there for long minutes, breathing hard as we both slowly came back down.
