Hard to Serve: A Hard Ink Novella

by Laura Kaye

  She shook her head as he secured it, and when she kept thrashing, he grabbed her by the throat. Squeezed. Lifted.

  He got right in her face. “You better do as I fucking say. You want to make me happy, right?”

  Pleading, lust-filled eyes peered up at him. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said around the gag.

  “Yeah, I thought so.” He released his grip and she gasped in air. “And you can do that by coming. Again and again. To show me how hot you are to be here.” He grabbed the Hitachi wand, knelt next to her leg, and placed its vibrating head in his palm. Leaning over the narrow cot so he was in front of her, he held it right up to her clit, his fingers between her legs. He sank his middle and fourth fingers into her pussy so he could stimulate her G-spot, too.

  Mia screamed and threw her head back.

  “That close already, huh?” Moving his fingers inside her, he ground the vibrations harder against her clit.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned.

  He worked his fingers harder. “Show me you like this, slut.”

  “No, no, no,” she cried.

  “Do it. Do it, now.”

  Mia came magnificently. Her whole body went taut and she screamed around the strap, her orgasm wetting his fingers and spilling onto his palm. And then she did it again. And again. Until he thought she might pass out and he might come just from the exquisite fucking beauty of her pleasure.

  He removed the wand and tossed it aside on the bed. Putting his face in her line of sight, he licked at his wet fingers. Salty and sweet. “I’m gonna enjoy you.” Kyler wiped a streak of wetness over her lips.

  Quickly, he untied the ropes from the bed. Manhandling Mia, he turned her around, still on her knees. She struggled against him, her hands striking at his chest, making Kyler smile.

  “I like it when you fight me, but you aren’t going to win. Hands on the headboard,” he growled. When her movements weren’t fast enough, he slapped her luscious ass. “Now.”

  She gripped the iron, and he tied her hands in place. Next, he positioned a spreader bar between her knees, forcing her legs wide.

  “Please, please just let me go,” she cried, her words garbled.

  “Oh, little Mia, you’re mine now. I’m never letting you go,” Kyler said, the words coming from the character he was playing. But then he paused mid-movement, because the sentiment reached inside his chest and poked at things he never messed with—his solitude, his loneliness, his jealousies of what others had that he never would. In a quick flash, his memory conjured the happiness on the faces of Nick and Becca, Beckett and Kat, Marz and Emilie.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Why did this woman get to him this way?

  Standing beside the bed behind her, Kyler’s gaze ran over Mia’s bound form. Her curvy body appealed to everything male inside him. Her need for darker, edgier sexual activities matched his so well. Her laughter lit him up inside. And the fact that she’d asked if he was okay and kissed his knuckles revealed that she could read him, too.

  If he was the kind of man who did relationships, she was the kind of woman he’d want.

  But what he had was this moment. All he had was this moment.

  Get out of your fucking head, Vance.

  Kyler grabbed the flogger from the cabinet and ran its soft leather straps over his hand. He’d seen Mia’s face as she watched the flogging scene. She’d liked it.

  He got on the bed behind her, and Mia gasped as the cot jostled.

  With four quick turns of his wrist, he brought the flogger down over her back. She moaned and sagged against the headboard. Kyler worked her ass over next. He ducked his hand between her legs and penetrated with a finger. Her wet pussy sucked at him. Three quick flicks against one ass cheek. Her core sucked harder. “Mmm. Someone likes a little pain with fucking, doesn’t she?”

  “Nonono,” she moaned, thrashing as much as she could. Which wasn’t much.

  “Liar. Don’t lie to me, slut. Your body sure doesn’t,” Kyler said, finger-fucking her hard and fast for a moment. She arched her back for more. He gave it to her until her whole backside was pink and warm and she was moaning nonstop, her endorphins probably flying.

  Kyler couldn’t hold back any longer. Smearing her wetness over her ass cheek, he dropped the flogger and undid his jeans. Shoved them to his knees. Quickly rolled on a condom.

  And then he was right up against her, his chest to her back, her front to the cold, unforgiving iron.

  Kyler took his cock in hand and guided it to her pussy. And then he shoved deep in one mind-blowing stroke. “Fuuck,” he groaned.

  Mia’s moan matched his in intensity and need.

  “Knew you needed this,” he said. Needed me, his mind offered. Which proved just how fucked he was over this woman, didn’t it? He shouldn’t want her to need him. “Say it,” he growled. “Tell me.”

  “Needed it, needed it, yes,” she said, her words a fast, mumbled rush. She ground her ass backward into him, shoving him deeper.

  He withdrew slowly and penetrated again in a series of hard, punctuated thrusts. “Don’t. Fucking. Forget it.” He pulled her hips back, forcing her to bend at the waist. And then Kyler rode her like a man possessed. Fast. Hard. Merciless. He might’ve worried about the pace and intensity except her pussy was already fisting his cock, tighter, tighter.

  Testing what she’d said the other night, he grabbed the back of the collar around her throat and twisted it, increasing the pressure a little at first. Then a lot more.

  Mia shrieked. And then she came and came, her juices wetting them both.

  Kyler groaned at the fucking perfection of it. And knew that his need was too urgent to drag this out the way he really wanted.

  Hunching his body over hers, giving her his weight, he gripped both hands around her throat like he was strangling her from behind. Using the leverage of his hold there, he pounded into her, and goddamn hell, she came again, her body bowing so hard that she lifted him with the arch of her spine.

  It was the nail in the coffin of his restraint.

  “Too good, Mia. Christ, it’s too good.” He came on a shout, his hips grinding into her, his cock jerking hard inside her, his body riding a high unlike anything he’d felt in a long, long time. Maybe ever.

  When he finally calmed, he pressed kisses all down Mia’s shoulder.

  “Hang on a sec, Mia, and I’ll get you untied.” He removed the strap from her mouth and stroked a hand over her soft hair, not as neat as it had been earlier. Kyler disposed of the condom and did up his jeans. Removed the spreader bar. Unbound her hands. Massaged where the ropes had made impressions in her skin.

  She sagged, her muscles lax.

  “Look at me,” he said. She did, though her gaze was a little unfocused. “Tell me how you are.” He recalled how much she’d dropped the last time, and he hadn’t dealt out nearly the amount of pain play then that he had tonight.

  “I’m good, Sir,” she said, her voice soft.

  Kyler covered her with a blanket, tucking it around her shoulders. “Just rest there a minute.” He made quick work of cleaning up the room. When everything was put away, he returned to her. “Come here, little one,” he said. She shifted toward him, her movements slow, and Kyler lifted her into his arms.

  Mia tucked herself against his bare chest on a long, satisfied sigh. And it fucking owned him. It really did.

  A door on the room’s rear wall opened into a small private lounge with an overstuffed couch, table, and a shelf full of supplies. A tray with drinks and snacks sat on the table, the same as he’d ordered the other night after his first scene with Mia. Quinton. Kyler would’ve put money on it. He couldn’t decide whether to be chagrined or annoyed at the other Dom’s knowing what they’d need, but Mia was all that mattered just then.

  He sat with Mia in his lap, all her soft curves comforting him, easing him. An hour with her and every bit of the day’s agitation was gone. Comfort and ease. How fucking rare for him these past months. Ever since the h
orror of seeing Miguel’s gunned-down body discarded on the street like so much trash, Kyler had been living a nightmare that just wouldn’t end. Now, because of Mia, comfort and ease. She’d given him so much that he could’ve fallen asleep with her. Right there on that couch.

  “Drink,” he said, handing her a water.

  She did, slow sips turning into gulps. When she was done, she heaved a deep breath.

  “How are you doing?” he asked, his fingers stroking her cheek. He examined her neck for marks, but her skin was clear.

  “Good. I feel…good. A little drunk. Kinda like I’m not quite in my skin,” she said, some of the words almost slurred. She peered up at him with soft, fuzzy, sated eyes.

  Damn, Mia could really get deep into subspace. Would another Dom know that about her? Know that her ability to detach meant he had to take extra care to monitor her pain and reactions? Know she needed extra attention, especially after an intense scene? A rock settled into his gut.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Me. Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “Your shoulder is bandaged,” she said, her brow furrowing.

  Her concern touched him. “Don’t worry. It’s just a new tattoo.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze dropped to the front of his right shoulder, and he answered her question before she asked.

  “The scars are from surgery. A few months ago.” He didn’t see the need to add that he’d been shot, which would only open up a whole other complicated conversation. And right now what he needed was a break from work, not to discuss it. “Are you uncomfortable with anything that happened, Mia?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t pushed her beyond where she wanted to go.

  She shook her head. “It was…good. Hot. I’ve always wanted to do something like that.” She smiled, then pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Master.”

  The word reached into his chest…reached into his chest and grabbed ahold. Master. He should correct her because he wasn’t her Master. He wasn’t. But fuck. Part of him wanted to be. Bad.

  How had that happened so quickly? How had that happened at all?

  Because he’d never let it happen before.

  Sonofabitch.

  Mia yawned, then chuckled. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Rest on me, Mia. I’ve got you,” Kyler said, cradling her head against his shoulder. She fell asleep almost immediately. And as unconsciousness called to Kyler, too, his last thought was, Yeah, but how long can I really let myself keep her?

  Chapter 8

  With so few days until her temporary membership expired, Mia hadn’t been able stay away from Blasphemy. She’d work all day and find herself at the club as many nights as her schedule and other commitments allowed.

  The third time she’d come, she’d met Master Kyler manning the reception area. He’d found her after his shift was done, and they’d played. He’d hogtied her on a bed. Lying on her stomach, he secured her arms and legs to a spreader bar behind her, forcing her whole body to arch back. And then he’d made it worse by tying a leather strap around her neck and securing that to the bar, too. If she relaxed to take the pressure off her back, the strap choked her tighter. Which was the point. He’d made her come a half dozen times with a vibrator, and she’d been so deliciously delirious that they hadn’t had sex. But she hadn’t minded that so much when he’d told her when he’d be at the club again.

  And she’d reveled in the faint bruises on her throat that had required her to wear one of her many scarves the next few days.

  Each time was hotter than the next.

  There was the time he’d had her straddle a Sybian machine, a hump-shaped toy with a dildo and vibrating pad that ground into her clit, and fucked her face so hard and so deep that she was gagging and gasping for air and coming so many times he had to hold her upright to finish. They hadn’t had sex that night, either. But then there was the time they’d been watching Master Griffin doing another Shibari demonstration on the church’s altar, and she’d gotten turned on. So Master Kyler had taken her from behind right there, in the middle of the crowd, his hand alternating between grasping her throat and smothering her mouth and nose. And the breath play along with having so many people watching—from so close—had made her squirt so hard she’d pushed him out of her.

  After they’d play, he’d hold her and soothe her, and each time he’d let her know when he was going to be there again. She couldn’t help but hold out a little hope that meant something, even though he’d been very clear on more than one occasion.

  Now, on the last night of her temporary membership, Mia found herself once again in Master Kyler’s arms after an incredibly intense and hot scene, this one based entirely around orgasm denial.

  He’d strapped her to a table in the medical-themed room, her legs bound in adjustable stirrups. And then he experimented on her body with different implements, tools, and forms of torment to see what got her the hottest the fastest—and then he denied her release at the last moment. Over and over again. If that hadn’t been sensual torture enough, the medical room had a big window with audience seating, and they’d drawn a crowd who watched as Master Kyler tormented her so exquisitely. She’d cursed his name through the first two-thirds of it, but when he finally allowed her to do so, she came so hard so many times that she forgot her own damn name.

  The audience had cheered.

  It had been their sixth scene together, and she was utterly addicted to this man. To everything about him.

  Now, lying in Master Kyler’s lap in a little private lounge, she wasn’t sure if she still had any bones in her body.

  Unfortunately, her mind wasn’t nearly as peaceful as her satisfied body should’ve allowed. Because tonight was her last night. From here, the club would evaluate her time so far and offer her a full membership, assuming a current member recommended her. And then she’d have to pay the regular rate.

  She just didn’t see how she could afford it.

  Which either meant that tonight was the last night she’d ever see Master Kyler…or that she had to be brave enough to ask to see him outside of the club. And that was a damn scary proposition since he’d explicitly told her he didn’t want a relationship.

  Even though, for someone who didn’t want one, he was really freaking good at making her feel cared for. And that caring—from the way he read her needs in a scene to the way he’d asked about her gallery opening to the way he’d let her fall asleep on him on more than one occasion—it was all pulling her emotions into the equation. She didn’t just like Master Kyler. Or lust after him. She wanted him—wanted more with him. Maybe even wanted to be his.

  Kyler’s fingers stroked over her hair, the feeling luring her eyes to close. If only her brain would stop racing. “What are you thinking so hard about, little one?” Lazy, male satisfaction made his tone deep, graveled.

  Maybe she should just lay part of this out there and see where he went with it. “Tonight’s my last night.”

  Underneath her, his muscles tensed. “What do you mean?” He tilted her chin so that they looked at each other.

  “My membership.” She gave a little shrug. “It was one of the temporary ones. It ends tonight.”

  His gorgeous face was a careful neutral. Her belly waited…waited…and then started a slow sinking. “Your membership was…” He shook his head. “Will you go for the full membership?”

  Did that mean he wanted her to? “I’m not sure. To be honest, it would be a stretch for me financially.”

  “I see,” he said, his gaze searching hers and losing some of its warmth in the process. Or maybe that was her imagination? Or her heartache?

  She hung on his words, hoping he’d say something more. Needing him to.

  “Well, I…I hope it works out.” His brow furrowed for just a moment.

  He hoped…it worked out? What the hell did that mean? Master Kyler was a Dom who knew exactly how to say what he wanted. Clearly and without any pretense. That vague mess of words right there? Well, it told her ever
ything she didn’t want to know, didn’t it?

  Suddenly, she needed off of his lap, out of his arms, away from him. How had she let herself want more when he’d told her he couldn’t give it? Or wouldn’t. So, so dumb. But she just nodded. “Thank you for everything, Master Kyler. I’m going to head out.” She shifted.

  He caught her around the waist, and she bit back a whimper. Because she really needed to get away from him—before she lost her temper or started to cry. Both reactions were bubbling up inside her. She pushed against his chest.

  “Wait,” he said.

  The word nearly made her gasp as hope rushed through her. “Why?” she asked, her voice strained. She forced herself to meet his gaze. But she didn’t find hope there.

  “You’re…are you feeling okay again? After the scene, I mean?” He frowned.

  Oh. She’d never achieved the depth of subspace with another Dom that she did with him, so she’d never experienced the fuzzy-headed euphoria and emotional roller coaster that it could take you on after a scene. They’d talked about that a bit after they’d fallen asleep together the first time, the night he’d first showed her his amazing cross tattoo. Just one more thing she liked about him, the sexy ink covering so much of his body. He’d said he was worried about her going into subspace with a less experienced Dominant and suggested she advise any future Doms before she played with them about how pain and intensity could impact her.

  At the time, she’d just thought he was looking out for her.

  But now… If his words tonight didn’t quash the stupid, stupid hope she’d momentarily felt, the memory of that exchange stomped on it with a pair of big, beefy shitkickers. “I’m fine, Sir. Thank you for your concern.” She pushed out of his lap and rose, the blanket still around her shoulders. She retrieved her clothes from the table. “May I take the blanket to the locker room with me?” Because she really didn’t want to bare herself in front of him. Not any more than she’d already done. Even if he didn’t see it—or was purposely ignoring it.

  He stood, his slate gray button down still open over his sculpted chest and abs. “Of course.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. So Mia left the little lounge. And him.