by Mari Carr, Red Phoenix, Angel Payne, Sierra Cartwright, Jenna Jacob, Victoria Blue
Sam’s smile was perfunctory. “You fuckin’ bet we will.”
“Transferring the—” Jen darted her gape between him to the waitress. “‘Private status’? What the hell does that—”
“Very well, then.” The server, a leggy beauty with trendy cat-eye makeup, spoke like Jen had commented on the weather. “Right this way.”
“This way” turned out to be a hallway, cleverly hidden behind a portion of the wall that swung out at Leggy’s seemingly magical cue. Upon closer look, Jen noticed that the woman’s electronic order pad also included an icon of a lock, with the label VIP beneath it. But Jen didn’t feel very “VIP”. Skittish colt instincts, to the rescue. She backed away until she couldn’t—hitting a roadblock in the form of a six-foot-four fighter pilot with launch rockets blazing in his eyes.
“Room three,” said Leggy.
“Hell no,” Jen retorted.
The roadblock bent his head, fitting his jaw to her neck and his lips to her ear. “She said room three. Now walk.”
Jen jabbed an elbow into his ribs. He barely grunted—before sweeping her hair off her neck and digging his teeth into her nape. “I said walk, Jenny, or I’ll be takin’ you myself with your ass over my shoulder.”
And because she was naked under the dress, a lot more than just her ass would “entertain” everyone in the room. Not that they wouldn’t enjoy the spectacle. Something about the soft laughs from around the bar told her that a lot of guests already knew about the secret panel—and exactly what lay behind it.
That didn’t make things easier as she growled and stalked down the hall. She hated herself for obeying him—and her traitorous body, for its thousand tingles of erotic expectation.
Chapter Five
She couldn’t even ignore what the rooms were there for. After passing room two, the picture was crystal clear. For a second, Jen wondered if the heavy moans were just the outcome of a hard gym session—but then she remembered passing the gym earlier today, when meeting Tess at the wedding coordinator’s office. No way did the Nyte need another workout locale.
And once Sam pushed open the door to room three, no way could she hit the denial button on his intent.
Lighting even dimmer than the main room. A canopied bed fit for a king, all mahogany tapestries and endless pillows. A three-sided mirror in the corner with a multi-level stool in front of it, serving a purpose Jen could only imagine—though right now, her imagination ran pretty damn wild.
“In.”
His voice was harsh, twisting into her like a newly heated poker, needing no embellishment for her compliance. But he’d given no stipulation about doing it meekly.
“Damn it, Sam. This is not acceptable. Shutting me up by dragging me to the shadows and—”
It was impossible to say anything else, with the man’s tongue suddenly in her mouth.
Passionate. Powerful. Consuming.
Ohhhh, damn.
A moan exploded up Jen’s throat. She wanted to—needed to—resist, but couldn’t. Her lungs struggled for air as her stomach battled for the right way up. Her head fought a silvery, lusty fog. Her whole body burst to life, as if this was the first time Sam kissed her. Every sensation was new and brilliant, incredible and illicit—especially as he rammed her against into the thick bed post.
She groaned again, lifting a leg around his waist. To her shock, Sam pushed it back down. When he tore his mouth away, she let her face drop into confusion.
“For the record, it isn’t acceptable that you’ve compared yourself to the scum on my shoe, and then even hinted that—” Whatever he was going to say stunned him into silence. He stabbed a hand through his hair. “Arse and fuckin’ parsley, Jenny. We’ve shared things with each other before tonight. A lot of things! Do you really think that I would be even half attracted to someone like—”
He interrupted himself with another growl. The violence of it curled into Jen’s blood, making her instinctively reach back, clutching the bedpost with one hand.
A lot of good that did.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, grabbing her free wrist. “I’m tired of tryin’ to sweet-talk this into you.”
“That was sweet talk?”
Bad move. The three seconds she took for the sarcasm were all the time he needed to pivot her around, then lift her other hand to clasp the post. In another flash of motion, he pulled on something hidden in the canopy. A pair of padded wrist cuffs dropped from seemingly nowhere. Holy shit. Did every piece of furniture in this place come complete with kinky booby traps?
A needy moan spilled past her self-control as he latched her into the cuffs. She swallowed it down, trying to summon some semblance of self-control. “S-Sam. What the hell? We c-can’t. We promised ourselves. The wonderful…remember?”
“Oh, I’ve no intention of making you feel wonderful.”
Before she could process that, he hiked her skirt up. She was exposed—and completely turned on—from the waist down.
But before she processed that, he landed a sharp spank across her bottom.
“Ahhhhh!”
Then a second.
Holy crap! “Sam. What the—”
He cut her short by kissing her again. Harder than he ever had. Deeper than he ever had. He didn’t relent, compelling her head to twist so he assault her mouth—doing it as brutally as his smacks on her ass. And God help her, Jen let him—not just because he gave her no choice, but because she wanted to. Because somewhere, in her wildest and naughtiest dreams about this man, she’d envisioned him like this. Tearing into her mouth. Razing into her senses. Firing across her skin and nerves…
exactly
like
this.
By the time he pulled away, her chest heaved, her blood throbbed, and her sex clenched tightly enough to make her moan again—
Especially when he delivered another blow to her bottom.
Another, at twice the impact.
A third, intensifying more.
“Shit!” she finally managed past the screams.
“Breathe.” His exhortation was practically a Zen chant in her ear. Calm. Soothing. Infuriating.
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you, Jenny Thorne.” Bizarrely, a smile entered his voice. It twisted with his anger, throwing Jen off. Was she supposed to melt for him, or pour molds for new ice daggers?
As he circled in order to look at her directly, though the post was between them, his expression gave her no clues. He was still beautiful, with those dark eyes and ginger waves and jaw like a precipice from his native land.
“Fuck you,” he repeated, “for thinking so little of me, that someone like Mattie Lesange could ever meet my needs. And fuck you for thinking so little of yourself, to presume you wouldn’t.”
Her breath stopped. Well, she knew what to feel now. Giddy astonishment collided with abject remorse, sprinkled with a layer of maybe-this-really-is-all-a-dream. “I’m—sorry.” And she really was—though that didn’t throw a cease-fire onto her confusion. “But men love pretty things on their arms, Sam.”
He glowered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Not the insult you’re taking it as.” She shrugged. Remaining covered from the navel up lent her the confidence. “Life is life, friends are friends, and lovers are something completely different. Sometimes, good sex is just good sex, and making more out of—”
He jerked her chin up using two fingers. Stared like she’d just told him the moon was made of bacon. “Is that all you think of what we shared earlier? ‘Just good sex’?”
Confusion tumbled in again. The answer to that seemed apparent but wasn’t. She decided to go for total honesty. “Look…I just don’t expect anything else, okay? And it’s fine that—”
“I should expect anything else.”
She ignored the darkness in his tone. “How could you? And why would you? Neither of us is a kid. It’s great to think of taking home grand meanings from a one-night thing—when you’re young. But we’re not—”
He stopped her with another kiss. Dug his hand against her scalp, locking her head in place. Stabbed his tongue against hers, as if needing to strip off the words she’d just uttered. When he let her mouth go, he kept his hand in place. Dragged her head back up so he could impale her stare with his. The command in his grip was as compelling as the force in his eyes, once more driving in like that fresh poker, scalding its way onto her psyche, searing its way into her soul.
“I want to spank you again, Jenny.”
She swallowed. “I know.” Ohhh God, how she did. All the silver spikes in his gaze had told her so.
“I still don’t want to be gentle about it.”
“I…I know.”
He dragged in a rocky breath. “Do you?”
“Of—of course. I pissed you off. And you’re a Dominant.” And I want you to punish me. To control me.
Yes, please…
“No.” He shook his head fiercely. “No, you don’t understand. The punishin’…it’s done. But I’m not.” He pushed in, smashing his lips to hers. “God help me, my burners are just starting to fire.” His hand twisted tighter in her hair. “Nothing I feel about you is civilized, woman. It hasn’t been for quite a while.”
Her senses swam in a thick fog. It felt so good. Everything about him felt so good. “You…really mean that, don’t you?”
“I do.”
Her lips lifted. Only one glass of wine but everything was limp and carefree, as if she’d had the whole bottle. “I had no idea.”
“Disguised it that well, did I?” He curled a smile of his own. “When all I thought about, walkin’ into your little office every mornin’, was how to get you exactly like this. Wait—no.” He swung around to mount the bed, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her with him. She now knelt on the mattress, wrists tethered to the bedpost, ass high and presented to him. “Exactly like this,” he revised with a growl.
Jen lowered her head between her arms. The pose, so submissive, also felt completely right. “Thank you for the clarification, Sir.”
“Sir?” Another satisfied vibration from his chest. “So that’s how it is, hmmm?”
“Is there…a problem with that?” She finished by subtly wiggling her ass, though it was no small feat. With his hand sweeping back and forth across her cheeks, spreading the heat of his first swats, it was all she could do to be coy. She needed more of him, so damn badly. Needed him to touch her in other places…illicit places…
“Not a problem at all.” But while his voice approved, he pulled his hands away. Bafflement struck, but only for a second. A fresh wave of arousal took over—as Sam reached to a control panel embedded in the bed’s footboard. After he pushed a button, the mattress began to raise up—but only beneath her legs. She would’ve laughed aloud, if the action didn’t heat her sex in a hundred new ways. A control number bed, the D/s version. Was there any end to what the Nyte’s creators had dreamed up in the way of kinky delights?
The next moment, even that cognitive thinking was ripped away. Sam dug his hands into her hips, centering her lower body against the hump. Power radiated off his fingertips as he flowed them in, spreading heat across her buttocks.
A gasp burst off her lips. A growl curled off his.
“Fuck. Me.” His hands splayed, kneading her flesh, warming her skin all over again. “So bloody beautiful. So pink and sweet. But it needs to be red.” His touch roughened. “Your ass needs to bear my mark, girl.”
Jen’s senses rolled. Her balance tumbled in the magic of his voice…the spreading heat from his possessive touch. “Yes,” she heard herself rasp. “Yes. Mark me…”
He snarled low again. “Ask it properly. I want to hear that pretty word from you again. ‘Spank me, please—”
“Sir.” She filled it in for him. Eagerly. Longingly. “Yes. Oh yes, Sir, please. Spank me. Mark me. Oh!”
The exclamation took over for any more coherent words, as Sam lowered a thwack across her ass. While her flesh stung, her mind careened. Logic taunted, just out of reach. There was a reason she wanted this so badly, especially from him, but did it matter? All she wanted right now was his touch. All she needed was his dominion, full and consuming and perfect. Sam. Sam. Sam. For this moment, for this time, she only existed because of him. Through him.
Another spank. Unleashed power. Reverberations of pain.
She screamed. Or maybe just dreamed it.
“Red light if you need to stop, mouse. I’m only just beginning.”
She rolled her hips, letting the sting spread and dissipate. The tingles down her legs and through her sex…were incredible. “Don’t stop. Please, Sir.”
“So certain.” Why did his voice suddenly sound weird? Almost…wicked? “So sure.”
The answer came with a resounding crack—though the next impact to her ass wasn’t from his hand. It was the harsh stroke of leather, in the middle of her left cheek. As Jen struggled to summon a scream, another whoosh whipped the air. She took in the musk of the leather—before pain chomped into her right cheek. When he rained another blow to her left, the shriek finally manifested. The right again. Back to speechlessness, fighting to accept the agony that would soon bring ecstasy. Or so she hoped.
She was already tempted to call red light, when Sam’s new growl filled the air. She’d never heard a sound like it. Deep. Dark. Dripping with carnality. Coarse with need. “I knew the crop would love your ass, darlin’. Knew that your skin would take my marks so perfectly.” Another rumble, twice as entrancing as the first, flowed as he whipped her again: two more blows on each stinging cheek. “Take it in, sweet Jenny. These memories in your skin…take them into your spirit, too. Twist them inside of you. Weave me inside of you.”
She sighed. “You’re already there.”
“Not deep enough.” He emphasized with another two strokes. “Let the pain open it deeper…then pour me inside the crack. Let me into the places that mean you’ll never forget me. That mean you’ll never think yourself unworthy ever again.”
More smacks. More pain. More spaces, so far inside, that cracked open and flooded with the adoration, strength, and majesty in his voice.
More of herself…surrendered to him.
More of the composure she could no longer hold together.
His passion set her tears free. They burst on messy sobs, and she didn’t care. A vision danced across her mind. She was five or six, twirling in the front yard with a “wand” made from a stick and some party streamers. She was magical and perfect…so many years before the world began to tell her she wasn’t. Before she became the dork, the brain, the geek, “the weird one”.
Now, she danced in the light again. Streamers of pleasure and pain blew across her senses. The beauty of it was…intense. Blazing. Blinding. And everywhere in that heaven, there was Sam. Always Sam. Now leaning over her, brushing back her hair to collect her tears with his kisses. Pressing against her, so his heat and strength permeated her body. His satin vest caressed her back, his wool kilt scraped her ass…and teased further between her legs. As if she needed a reminder of how her body craved him as much as her soul did.
“So beautiful,” he murmured. “Damn, Jenny…how beautiful you are to me.”
Sensations continued to bombard. The streamers morphed into other images. They turned into his sinewy form, body rolling as he’d pushed into her, in his room fifty floors above. The teasing swipes of his kilt against her pussy were more instigators, making her tremble. And still, she sobbed in the throes of the breakthrough he’d given her. Which way was up? And did she care? She only knew she longed for more. Needed it like her next damn breath. Needed him.
“Sam. Sam.”
“I know, darlin’. I know.”
She whimpered in protest. He didn’t know. She needed more of him. All of him…
A crinkle of foil serrated the air. The kilt didn’t abrade her ass anymore. There was furnace heat…and the push of a steely knob at the cushions guarding her intimate tunnel.
“I
need to fill you.” He prodded in a little more, circling his hips to stroke every sensitive edge of her entrance. “Will you have me inside you, Jenny? Will you let me fuck your perfect little cunt?”
Chapter Six
She didn’t remember saying yes. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe he’d just heard the cry that echoed from her heart, resonated through her being, drawing his cock inside her, as inevitable as the sun in her visions.
As undeniable as her love for him.
Ohhhh, shit.
She loved him.
The truth of it punched free as he peeled back the last of her defenses, replacing her barriers with the fullness of his body. Jen let it crash in, racking her in harder sobs, knowing this would be the only time she could. Between the tears she’d already shed and Sam’s relentless pace, she’d be able to weep for every woe in the world and get away with it at this point.
“That’s it, darlin’.” He was none the wiser, either—thank God. “Give it to me, Jenny.” His words were harsh and hot in her ear; his teeth dug into the flesh beneath. “Take me deeper. Deeper.”
She interrupted her sobs long enough to gasp as he shoved her dress higher. Then shriek as he reached beneath her bra, tugging hard at one nipple. Harder at the other.
“Sam! Shit!”
He twisted her nipple tighter. And again, the other. “Who am I?”
“Sir.” She panted it out, hissing as he pushed his knees between hers, pushing them out farther. “You are…Sir.”
He penetrated her deeper. “And who gives you all your pain…and all your freedom?”
“You. Only you, Sir.”
He growled low. Changed his pounding pace into a more determined drive. “And if we were still in the bar, who would you pick to fuck you?”
“You.” The confession cracked from emotion. “It’s always been you. Just you.”
He released a long breath against her neck. “Christ, Jenny. And it’s always been just you, too.” His thrusts were so deep, the clap of their bodies reverberated off the walls. The sound barely registered past the blood thrumming through her ears, especially as he snaked a hand between her legs from the front. “Come with me, beauty. Let it all go for me.”
