Bonds of Need

by Lynda Aicher

  “Fuck,” he vented, chasing her down. His socks slipped on the polished floor and he cursed again, feeling as coordinated as a hippo. At the door he saw that the elevator was already sliding closed and she smiled at him, the challenge clear as they finished closing. “Goddamn it!”

  He slammed the door shut behind him and sprinted to the stairwell, jumping down the steps four at a time, hitting the third floor in a matter of seconds. She must have heard him coming because when he opened the stairwell door, she was already sprinting down the long hallway, heading for the stairs that ended at the Dungeon.

  “Kendra,” he growled, taking off after her. Damn woman. His pulse raced but he wasn’t sure if it was from frustration or excitement. His hunter instincts kicked in and he stalked her down the hallway, letting her get safely down the stairs before he accelerated after her.

  “Come on, Deklan,” she called out as he entered the Dungeon. She stood in the center of the room already stripping her jacket off, pulling it down her arms and tossing the material aside. “Let’s do this.”

  The room was strangely empty for the time of night and Deklan growled low in his chest when he remembered why. “We’re all alone, Kendra. The club’s closed for the night.”

  She froze in the middle of removing her shoe, one leg cocked up to rest on the opposite knee as she braced her hand on the edge of a freestanding St. Andrew’s cross. She scanned the room as if the fact was just dawning on her. Taking a breath, she exhaled it slowly then continued to undo her shoelace, toeing it off before she began on the other shoe.

  “I’m not doing this.” He crossed his arms over his chest and hardened his resolve. It didn’t matter that she looked absolutely outstanding, stripping down in the middle of the Dungeon. Her skin was flushed with her anger, her actions resolute. His cock hardened beneath his leathers despite his best efforts against it. “Our contract clearly states not in private. I won’t break that.”

  She kicked her other shoe aside and faced him, chest heaving. Tilting her head, she pointed to the corner of the room. “Cameras. As you told me before, we’re not alone.” She flashed a victorious grin then yanked the tight running top over her head.

  He sucked in his breath, absorbing the vision she presented. Nothing flashy or seductive. Just pure, muscled female. The jogging bra hugged her firm breasts, defining her hard nipples and showing the small outline of the teasing rings and charms she wore in them. Her stomach was lean and ridged with muscles that expanded and contracted with each quick breath she took. The skin-tight leggings hid nothing. Instead they showcased the long length of legs sculpted from the hours spent running.

  He jerked his eyes away from her body and cursed at himself when he saw the knowing gleam in her eyes. It wasn’t like he could hide his erection in his tight leather pants. With a slash of a smile, she pulled her bra over her head, exposing her perfect breasts, the nipple rings gleaming in the light, the sun charms dancing beneath. He groaned and forced himself to look away.

  He couldn’t do this. Damn it. He fucking trained his Doms to never do a Scene when feelings were too heavily involved. Control was the key, and there was never control when emotions were strung high.

  The rustle of fabric told him she was removing her pants. “Stop it, Kendra,” he growled, his voice hoarse with his barely held restraint. “We’re not doing this.” His fingers dug into his sides, where he gripped his hips.

  “You might not be. But I am.” Her running pants hit his chest and he flinched, not from the impact but the knowledge of how she would look if he turned to her. When skimpy white panties followed the path of her pants, Deklan almost choked on his own spit as it got stuck in his raw throat. She was naked.

  “That’s against our contract,” he gritted out.

  “Screw the contract. I’m saying it’s okay. All of this is fine.” Her breath gushed through the silence of the Dungeon. “Where do you want me, Deklan?”

  His jaw ached with the familiar tension and he squeezed his eyes close, resisting his desires. He couldn’t do this. No way. It was wrong. “No.”

  “I didn’t say ‘lilac,’” she spat back. “If you won’t do this, I’ll find someone else.”

  His eyes flew open, his head snapping up to glare at her. “Like hell you will.”

  When his brain logged the vision before him, he froze. She was stunning. Standing completely nude and waiting for him in the middle of a room filled with all means of BDSM torture and play equipment. Weak wasn’t even close to being in the long list of descriptions that flashed in his mind for her. His cock hardened even more, his focus held on the strength displayed before him. She wasn’t bodybuilder pumped up, but long, lean cords of physical beauty.

  She was a woman who wouldn’t break beneath him. She could match him, challenge him and turn him inside out. “Damn it, Kendra. Put your clothes on.”

  Instead of complying, she reach up and tugged her hair out of its holder, giving a small shake and fluffing her released hair until the long strands settled over her shoulders in a tempting length of silk.

  Fucking shit. He was a breath away from breaking every self-imposed rule he had. Years of hard-learned discipline was the only thing holding his feet firm.

  “Do you like what you see?” She held her arms out and slowly turned in a circle, giving him a view from all sides. Fuck was the only word his brain seemed capable of forming. He’d seen her many times close to naked, but the actual sight was leaving him struck stupid.

  “Why?” he choked out.

  Her head whipped around to peer at him over her shoulder, her eyes full of questions.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I trust you.”

  Sucker-punch. That was so not fair and she knew it.

  She let the words linger before walking over to a spanking bench and dropping to the kneeling pad, her eyes on him the entire time. “Because I need this.” She stretched out on the inclined bench until she was spread out, prone and waiting for him.

  His submissive.

  “I need you, Deklan.”

  Ah, fuck it all to hell. Now what was he supposed to do?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kendra’s words rang like a gong of truth within her. She needed him.

  She clenched the handles of the spanking bench in a grip that made her fingers ache and her arms quiver. But she wasn’t backing down. Damn it, this was for her. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the imposing man who glared back at her.

  What would he do?

  She’d brazenly thrown out the challenge, gone against his command and acted out. Was she deliberately asking to be punished? Yes. God, yes. She was crazy, she got that. But she wasn’t thinking right now. Reacting, that’s what she was doing.

  This was on her terms. She was controlling it. And she wasn’t afraid. Not of him. Not Deklan. She did trust him. Completely, or she wouldn’t be lying here naked, begging him to spank her. Hit her. Make her forget it all.

  But he didn’t move. His face was a hard, controlled mask with thin lips and a tense jaw. His deep blue eyes were almost black as he stared at her, his nostrils flaring slightly with each breath that expanded his large chest. The tight, black T-shirt molded to his torso just like his black leather pants hugged his powerful legs and outlined his erection. He was dressed for his Master role and damn it, she wanted him to perform.

  But he wasn’t a puppy following her lead.

  With deliberate movements, he lifted his hands from his hips, gripped the back of his shirt and yanked it over his head in one swift pull. Relief clashed with anticipation as she gobbled up the view of his muscled chest and arms. Her fingers flexed with the need to touch every inch of him. Something she hadn’t done yet, but ached to do each time they played. He was a temptation held just out of her reach, which only made him more alluring.

  “Safe word,” he demanded.

  “Lilac.” The breathy reply was exhaled on a wave a relief. He was going to do it.

  He unsnapped hi
s pants, his eyes commanding her to understand his intent. “Remember it.”

  She swallowed, barely able to manage the task as he unzipped his pants and hooked his thumbs under the waistband. Was he...? The answer to her unasked question came when he eased the leather over his hips and down his thighs.

  “Oh, my...” Her reaction was mouthed, but no sound came with it. He was beyond gorgeous. His dick fell out of its restriction as the material was tugged away. No underwear, of course. He bent to finish removing his clothing, temporarily blocking her view, and she took the second to gather her frayed thoughts but didn’t manage it before he tossed his socks and pants aside and straightened.

  Holy...crap. Brain synapses sizzled and fried instantly. Her eyes ate up every inch of his displayed body in a second then cruised back to fully savor the sight. The man before her left Eric in the dust. But then, she knew that.

  She licked her dry lips, holding her bottom lip between her teeth to keep back the moan that wanted to escape. His legs were as muscled and strong as she’d envisioned. His cut abs tapered to the V-shaped definition of his groin that drew her attention straight to his large, hard cock. The dark nest of hair that surrounded his erection and balls was almost a mocking declaration of what she’d been missing out on.

  Her pussy clenched in want, the fire of arousal swamping her in its sudden attack. His erection stood out in a glorious declaration of his own need. She wanted to lick that too. If he let her. A slim smile formed at that thought. Would she get the chance tonight?

  His lips thinned into a grim line and he turned his head to stare at the wall, his fists clenching at his sides. Without a word, he shifted and strode around the front of the bench she was on, moving past but not sparing her a glance or a touch. She swiveled her head to follow his movements. What was he getting? Anticipation pumped up her adrenaline, all thoughts of being afraid or angry gone.

  He stopped beneath a spreader bar that hung from the ceiling. Lifting his arms, he grabbed the long metal pole before stepping back to the wall and adjusting the chain that held the bar, tugging it higher. The rattle of the chain clanked loudly in the quiet Dungeon.

  Confusion made her brows pull down. “What are you doing?”

  Ignoring her, he went back to the bar, tested the height once again then kneeled. Her view was blocked by other equipment and she resisted the urge to lift herself up to see what he was doing. A moment later his hips came up, he bent at the waist as he spread his legs wide and worked at something at his ankle.

  Was he...? No. She pushed up, kneeling on the bench as he straightened and met her eyes. He lifted his left arm to the bar over his head, the slow, precise movement challenging in its own way.

  “What...” She couldn’t finish the question, too stunned to grasp what he was doing.

  Gripping the bar, he used his other hand to buckle his wrist into the attached cuff. No. He couldn’t be. This wasn’t what she wanted.

  Bolting upright, Kendra dodged the obstacles to halt before him. “What are you doing?”

  His feet were buckled into the spreader bar attached to the ground, one wrist bound to the bar over his head with his last hand gripping the other side of the bar, unable to buckle that one on his own. He stared at her, conveying more in his eyes than he’d ever done before.

  “I’m yours.” His voice was steady and he dropped his gaze to the ground. “Do with me as you wish.”

  “No!” She flew at him, her anger blinding her. She pushed him, her palms slapping his hard chest, forcing him backward until he halted with a jerk at the limits of the bars. “Damn you. I don’t want this.”

  Why was he doing this? It made no sense. He was the Dom.

  “You insist on having a Scene. This is what I can give you.” His voice was solemn, resolute. “I trust you, Kendra.”

  Her chest constricted, the anger clouded by confusion. He was letting her master him. “Why?” She backed away, her hands trembling where they rested over her stomach.

  “The tools and toys are in the cabinets along the wall.” He spoke to the floor, the submissive pose not flattering on him at all. Yet there was something appealing about seeing the powerful, dominant man at her mercy.

  “Look at me,” she ordered, stepping forward again. His head snapped up, obeying immediately. Her sense of power flared at that one simple move. His eyes held no challenge. No worry or apprehension. “You want this?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  The honorary sucked the breath from her right before the warmth flooded her. He was in her total control. She’d never had this kind of power over anyone.

  “Fine,” she snapped. Reaching up, she went on her tiptoes, grabbed his one free wrist and buckled it into the cuff, completing his bondage. Dropping back to her heels, she let her fingers drift down the length of his arm, reveling in the feel of his skin beneath her touch.

  If this was what he wanted, she wasn’t backing down. If it was a bluff to get her to quit, she was calling his.

  “Safe word?” she asked.

  “Lilac.”

  She shook her head. “No. Yours.”

  “Lilac,” he repeated.

  The flash of anger hit again. She didn’t understand the point he was trying to make and she was sure there was one. Whatever, he could have her word. She pinched his nipple, getting only a small flinch as a reaction from him. He wanted to play games? Fine, she’d play.

  She placed both hands on his chest and used one of his tricks. Turning her fingers into claws, she ran her nails down the entire length of his body. Over his pecs, down his ribs, around his dick and along each leg until she reached his toes. The shudder that followed her descent was only mildly satisfying.

  At eye level now, his cock stood out proud and tall; his erection hadn’t flagged a bit. It bobbed before her, mocking her. She leaned forward and sucked him down. He was smooth, hard silk in her mouth. His groan echoed through the room and his hips thrust forward, as if he couldn’t control the reaction. She hummed her approval, grabbing his ass to hold him still when he jerked again.

  She pressed her tongue against the underside of his shaft, stroking up and down over the ridge of the thick vein that bulged from the base to the rim. He tasted like man and she inhaled, the light sent of soap and sandalwood driving her mad. She pulled back, sucking hard before stopping at the rounded tip to run her teeth under the flared head. Teasing, taunting. Hurting.

  He sucked in a long draw of hissing breath, his muscles clenching beneath her hands. He was at her mercy. She smoothed her tongue over the soft top, tasting the first drop of pre-come as it leaked from the tip. The taste of salt and him was heavenly.

  She released her prize and looked up the length of him to find him staring at her. “Do you like pain, Deklan?”

  His jaw worked. “Yes.”

  She dug her nails into his ass cheeks. “Receiving it? I know you like giving it, but do you enjoy receiving it?” She kept his gaze locked with hers as she released a trail of hot breath down the length of his erection. Snaking her hand between his legs, she clenched and tugged his sensitive balls, watching his eyes widen and his mouth fall open. She squeezed until the orbs compressed within her palm. “I’m waiting.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” His reply was gritty with pain and something else.

  She released her hold and bent her head to suck the tortured balls into her mouth. The light covering of hair tickled her tongue as she took turns soothing first one then the other. Did she really want to hurt him? It was so tempting to just love him. To savor the feel of him under her palms and enjoy the smooth glide of his skin, the scent of his arousal, the moans of approval as she pleasured him. She slid her hands down the backs of his legs, the softness of the hair there contrasting with the rougher curls under her tongue, tormenting her with a driving need for her man.

  Her Dom.

  Damn it. Why is he doing this? There had to be a lesson involved. Doms didn’t give up control for no reason. And he’d never come across as a switch, as
a man who’d be comfortable in a submissive position. Everything he did and presented was about being in charge. Always in power.

  Yet here he was, willing, at her mercy. It had to be fake.

  Instantly her anger returned. The fury mounted until it consumed her passion, leaving her cold and hurting. Snatching her touch away from him, she pushed back and rose to her full height. Her gaze scoured upward one more time before she spun around and stormed to the cabinets he’d indicated along the wall.

  She whipped open each and every one until all five units exposed their hidden stash of whips, floggers, crops, canes, paddles, ropes, clamps, cuffs, condoms, lube, dildos—and the list went on. She’d never seen so much BDSM equipment displayed and available for use. It was a blatant reminder that this was all a business for Deklan.

  She was a client.

  The reality stabbed at her heart and she squeezed her eyes closed in rejection of what she felt. What was between them could never be more. She didn’t want it to be more. Eric had shown her this stuff didn’t belong in a good relationship. It could never coincide in real life. It was a lesson she had to remember.

  In a haze of denial she yanked tools off the shelves and hooks at random. A flogger, a crop, a paddle, it didn’t matter what exactly. Maybe she’d try them all. They’d all been used on her at some point and it was past time she used them on someone else.

  How would it feel to strike Deklan with these tools of his trade? Yeah, she nodded absently, grabbing another heavier flogger from the cabinet. Let’s see what makes him writhe and moan. Scooping up a ball-gag for good measure, she turned with her collection of toys and sauntered back to him. Let’s play, Deklan. You wanted this? You got it.

  He didn’t move, but he followed her every step with intent eyes. Was he nervous? Anxious? Excited? His appearance gave away nothing. She’d change that.

  Dropping her collection on a cart within his full view, she kept her back to him as she ran her fingers over them all. She grabbed a riding crop and swished it back and forth in the air, testing the weight, savoring the low whistling sound as it broke through the air.