by Mari Carr
His wheels were turning—analyzing all the clues and searching for motives. Jett’s knack for problem solving was part of what made him such an amazing crime writer. He could see all the angles and twists. Carissa had never once managed to figure out who the killer was in one of his books.
“Come on, Rissa. Let’s head back to the room. We can discuss our plan of attack for tonight.”
She took the hand he offered, relieved that with crime on his mind, at least Jett was distracted from his previous intentions. Seduction seemed to be off the table this afternoon.
She’d dodged that bullet again.
For the moment.
Chapter Seven
Jett sat at a table in the dungeon, watching as Carissa crossed the room to get him a drink from the bar. There were two unattached subs sitting at the counter—one the woman they’d seen with Gregory the previous night. Carissa had insisted on going over to strike up a conversation with the woman and Jett couldn’t come up with a good enough reason for her not to. Simply saying he didn’t want her more than two feet away from him wasn’t going to fly with his headstrong lady.
He shifted in his seat, trying to covertly adjust his cock in his tight jeans. He’d been rock hard ever since Carissa had stepped out of the bathroom an hour earlier in the outfit he’d purchased for her in the boutique downstairs. Roan had told him during the tour of the dungeon last night about the boutique’s “back room,” that specialized in fetish wear.
He’d dragged Carissa into the shop on their way back from the bar and picked out the sexy leather corset that zipped up the front, laced loosely down her back and framed her breasts perfectly. He’d thought she would balk when he finished the ensemble with a g-string, garters, black stockings and sexy fuck-me heels. Carissa hadn’t blinked twice. Once they got this messy business of murder out of the way, the two of them were going to explore every single one of his little submissive’s kinks.
Glancing around the room, he spotted several Doms looking in Carissa’s direction. Fortunately, he’d been smart enough to add a collar to her outfit. Though BDSM was more play than lifestyle to him, he liked the idea of Carissa belonging to him more than he cared to admit.
His feelings for her had snuck up on him, taking him down like a ton of bricks falling on his head. In two days, he’d forgotten what it felt like to regard her as nothing more than a friend. He couldn’t figure out how he’d felt such lukewarm affection for her for so long. He’d been a blind fool, but those days were over.
“She’s quite beautiful.”
Jett looked up, surprised to see another Dom standing next to his table. He was usually more aware of his surroundings, but with Carissa in the room, everything else seemed out of focus.
“Yes. She is.”
The man gestured to a chair and Jett nodded. “Please. Join me. I’m Jett.”
“Phillip,” the man responded as he claimed the seat Carissa had vacated a few minutes earlier. “Jett, huh? That’s an unusual name.”
Jett had heard that a lot. “Yeah. I know. My mother wasn’t big on family names. If she heard a name she liked, that was it.”
Phillip chuckled. “Only other Jett I’ve ever heard of is that author. Writes pretty good crime novels.”
“Jett Lewis.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Phillip said. “You a fan?”
Jett shrugged. “Sort of. I’m him.”
Phillip reared back in his seat. “Is that right? How about that? I’ve read all your books. Haven’t seen one lately though. You got anything new out?”
If he’d met this man two days ago, this conversation would have been a lot more painful. Today, however, he was a writer with a plot and the words were screaming to hit the page. “Not recently. But soon. I’m working on a story right now.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Jett glanced in Carissa’s direction to check on her.
Phillip followed his gaze. “I saw you and your lovely lady here last night. She wasn’t collared.”
Jett had been concerned someone would notice that fact. After all, Carissa had made quite an impression on the Doms last night. It wasn’t surprising the man had recalled her unattached status, especially if he’d been interested.
“We traveled to Eden together. I wanted to solidify our relationship here.”
“Very romantic.”
Jett nodded. “Exactly.” Then Jett decided to test the waters. “At least Gregory isn’t here tonight to bother her again.”
Phillip nodded and it struck Jett that there wasn’t much the man had missed last night. “The night’s still young. Gregory could always make an appearance later, although I’ll admit I’m confused by Stella’s presence here without him.”
“Stella?”
Phillip nodded toward Carissa and the other woman at the bar. “Gregory’s sub. She appears to be flying solo tonight. I can’t imagine she’s here with Gregory’s permission. The guy is possessive as hell.”
It struck Jett that Phillip knew more about Gregory and Stella than what a random stranger would notice at a glance. “Are you and Gregory friends?”
Phillip crossed his arms. “Not exactly.” His tone said “not at all.”
Jett tried to think of a way to keep the conversation going, but Phillip gave him a hand, explaining the acquaintance without further prodding. “My work takes me to D.C. quite often. I’ve crossed paths with Gregory a few times in a club there.”
The look on Phillip’s face told Jett the man wasn’t fond of Gregory. “Small world. Guess you weren’t expecting to run into him here as well. And it doesn’t sound like you’re happy about it.”
Phillip scowled. “The BDSM community isn’t that large.”
Jett started to ask another question, but Phillip rose. “Congratulations to you and your sub. If you’ll excuse me.”
Phillip left hastily and his retreat made Jett suspicious. Of course, Jett had looked at everyone in the club tonight with an eye toward murder. Phillip hadn’t done or said anything that made him a suspect apart from the fact he knew Gregory and didn’t like him. Jett was certain most people who’d met Gregory weren’t fond of the asshole.
“Jett?”
He looked up, surprised to realize Carissa had walked back across the room without him noticing. Some bodyguard he was. “Excuse me?”
She bit her lip. “I mean Sir.”
He grinned and pointed to the chair next to him. Carissa was still a bit uneasy about her role in the dungeon. When they’d arrived, he’d told her that they may be undercover, but this place wasn’t a game to him. She still hadn’t accepted what he wanted from her, so instead he intended to show her. He’d instructed her to call him “Sir” while they were in the dungeon, explaining she would be his submissive within these walls.
She took the chair, then leaned closer. “I met Gregory’s sub, Stella.”
He nodded. “I noticed the two of you were chatting. Did you find anything out?”
Carissa shrugged. “Not really. I don’t mean to sound cold, but Stella’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the lamp.”
Jett chuckled. “Did she mention Gregory?”
“Yeah. She’s actually here looking for him. Said he was furious last night after Roan kicked him out of the club. Apparently the asshole blamed her for bleeding. She said he stormed off and she hasn’t seen him since.”
“And she wasn’t alarmed enough to report him missing? We’re on an island, for God’s sake.”
Carissa gave him an exasperated look. “She didn’t seem to think his disappearance was all that unusual. I get the impression she views his absence as some sort of punishment.”
“So she’s here, sitting at the bar in the dungeon alone, dressed like that?” Jett turned to study Stella. Though she wasn’t sending out any obvious signals, her mere presence and attire suggested she was looking for a Dom—any Dom. “I don’t think Gregory and Stella have a clue how this community works.”
Carissa grinned ruefully. “Th
ey’re not exactly alone.”
Jett turned his attention to her. He’d allowed her to come to the club under the ruse of participating in this investigation. Truthfully, he had an ulterior motive. One he intended to move on now.
“You look beautiful tonight, Carissa.”
She stopped looking around the club, her gaze finding his as she flushed. He got the impression Carissa hadn’t been paid a lot of compliments in her life. He planned to make up for lost time.
“Thanks. You know, you never call me Carissa unless you’re pissed off at me. Or we’re here.”
He nodded, glad she’d picked up on the distinction. “I know.”
She bit her lower lip. She was adorable when she was nervous.
“Stand up, Carissa. And turn around.”
Carissa hesitated for only a moment before rising slowly. Jett wondered how he’d ever missed seeing this part of her. She’d always come off as hard as nails, the type to take no prisoners back home at the bar. Somehow he’d failed to see this softer side. The one that longed to give herself completely to someone she trusted.
Jett was honored she’d given that trust to him. Carissa stood with her back to him, her posture straight and sure. She may be out of her element, but she didn’t let her unease show. Jett admired her confidence, the way she never backed down from a challenge.
Carissa didn’t move as he let his gaze travel from the graceful curve of her neck, along her back and down to her shapely ass. The thong she wore revealed way more than it covered. She had a sexy body—one she’d kept hidden from him for years.
Jett stood and stepped closer. He let her feel the heat from his body against her back. He grasped her hips in his hands, tugging her until her ass brushed the front placket of his jeans. His cock was hard, aching. He’d told her he wouldn’t take her until she agreed to a relationship. He didn’t doubt he’d pay for that promise. Carissa wasn’t going down easily. While she was willing to play with him here, she still viewed this time as a short-term escape from reality.
Something that wouldn’t follow them back home.
She was wrong.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands rising until he found her breasts. He dragged his fingertips along the tops before burrowing beneath the tight leather in search of her nipples.
“I want to show you off,” he whispered, enjoying the way she shivered when his breath tickled her ear.
“Okay.”
He kissed the side of her neck. “You aren’t allowed to speak anymore. The rest of the evening is about feeling. Nothing more. The only word you’re permitted to say is your safe word.”
She nodded once, clearly wanting what he was offering.
Leaning closer, he found the front zipper to her corset. As he slid it downward a couple of inches, he said, “You’re going to be tempted to say that word, Carissa.”
She turned then, tilted her head to look at his face. He sensed she was seeking reassurance that it was still him. Still Jett, her friend. He didn’t give her the comfort she sought. He’d lowered his mask, making sure she realized this wasn’t the Jett she knew.
She frowned at the serious expression on his face. “Jett.” Her voice was quiet, uncertain.
He scowled. “Not here, Carissa. Tonight I’m Sir. And I told you not to speak. You disobeyed me.”
She licked lips he imagined had gone dry due to nervousness. He released her breasts and gripped her upper arm, leading her to one of the leather tables in the main room. It was in a fairly prominent spot, well-lit, visible to almost everyone around them. He’d offered her privacy last night, choosing to initiate her slowly and without the watchful eyes of others. Tonight would be different.
She started to bend over the table, but he tightened his hold on her arm. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do.”
She froze and he watched a myriad of expressions cross her face—confusion, annoyance and a smattering of fear. He was stronger than her and he made sure she understood that through his tight grasp.
For a few seconds, they stood there in a mini face-off. Carissa was the first to relent, her body relaxing, the stiffness in her frame going softer. Then, she lowered her eyes.
Jett took in a deep breath, fighting for control. He’d never wanted anyone more than he wanted her.
He released her arm, and then reached for the zipper to her corset once more. Carissa glanced nervously around the room as he lowered it, revealing her breasts to anyone who cared to look in their direction.
“Keep your eyes on my face, Carissa. I’m the only person in this room who matters right now.”
Her gaze flew back to his, her breathing more erratic.
The corset fell away easily once the zipper was undone. It was one of the reasons he’d picked it out. Given his eagerness to see her, he knew he’d never have the patience to fool around with tightly tied laces.
He placed the corset on a chair nearby as Carissa held still. The woman was a hundred and thirty pounds of pure courage.
Jett reached out to touch her breasts, cupping the firm flesh before pinching her nipples roughly. She winced at the quick, sharp pain. He leaned forward to kiss away the sting, enjoying the sound of her light sigh.
Jett suckled only a moment before he bit the distended nub. Carissa jerked slightly, her arms rising as if to push him away. He stood quickly and gave her a warning look. “Arms at your sides. You’ve already earned one punishment for speaking without permission. You don’t want to add to that tally, Carissa. Trust me.”
She lowered her hands, the fingers forming fists. Jett wondered if she’d throw a punch if he pushed her too far. Carissa wasn’t afraid to show her physical side, to use force if provoked. He’d actually intervened once at the Royal Lunch, pushing Carissa out of harm’s way when she threw herself between two drunks picking a fight. He’d started to read her the riot act afterwards for putting herself in a dangerous position, but she’d cut his diatribe short, launching into one of her own, giving him hell for getting in her way.
She’d pinned her hair up earlier as she’d prepared for their trip to the dungeon. He’d tugged it loose before they left the room. If he had his way, she’d never put her thick tresses up in a ponytail again. He loved the way her brown wavy hair framed her face. She looked almost delicate with it down.
Jett returned his attention to her breasts, spending the next several moments treating her to a blend of pain and pleasure, his pinches followed by soothing licks, his light sucking replaced by teeth. He never picked a rhythm, didn’t give her a chance to figure out what was coming next—the softness or the hurt. Carissa’s chest rose and fell, her arousal becoming a tangible thing, expressed in flushes and moans and breathless whimpers.
One of the submissives working the floor passed nearby. Jett stopped her and requested a pair of nipple clamps, which the woman retrieved for him quickly. Carissa sucked in a pained gasp when Jett attached the first one to her taut nipple. Her mouth opened as if to speak. Jett narrowed his eyes in warning and she fell silent once more.
He attached the second, and then took a step back to admire his handiwork. Carissa’s eyes were closed as she struggled to catch her breath. He watched her work through the pain, observed as she found a way to deal with it. Once she regained control, she lifted her eyelids and looked at him.
Jett witnessed something on her face he was certain he’d never seen there before.
Peace.
There was a chain between the two nipple clamps. Jett reached out to tug it. Carissa sucked in as he applied more pressure. “Do you like the clamps?”
She nodded, recalling his admonition that she not speak. He grinned. She was playing her role to perfection. Little did she know he hadn’t even begun.
Stepping closer, he ran his finger along the edge of the collar he’d purchased at the boutique this afternoon. He’d remained in the shop after paying for Carissa’s outfit, telling her he’d meet her in the room later. If she knew how much he’d paid for the chai
n around her neck, she’d likely flip out. He’d selected it for its simple beauty. It fit the woman wearing it. Carissa didn’t need makeup or frills or flashy jewelry to enhance her looks. The thick silver necklace glittered against her light complexion. She’d gotten a bit of sun today, her normally pale color darkened with a pretty tan.
When she’d stepped out of the bathroom earlier, dressed in her sexy outfit, he’d bid her to turn around, then put the necklace on her. She’d smiled at him before going to look at it in the mirror, promising to return it to him once they’d finished playing their roles. He had no intention of ever taking it back.
“Touch me.”
Carissa responded to his command like a sprinter to the starting gun. Apparently she’d been waiting for this request. She ran her hands over his chest, her fingers stroking the soft cotton of his t-shirt. He reached for her wrists, drawing her hands lower until she cupped his cock.
“Touch me here.”
She slowly worked to free him from the confines of his jeans. Once the denim was unfastened, she reached inside. He’d eschewed the boxer briefs tonight, going commando. He would likely end the night chafed, but it would be worth it for these few minutes.
Carissa ran her fingers along the underside of his cock, then around the head. Her stroke was too soft. He wrapped his hand around hers, forcing her to grip him tighter.
“Do you feel how much I want you?”
She nodded once more.
“Soon, Carissa. Soon I’m going to bury my cock inside you. I’m going to take you hard all night long.”
Her eyes drifted closed. “Now.” The word escaped on a sigh, but Carissa’s sudden wince told her she knew he’d heard her.
“That’s two.”
She didn’t appear as worried about her punishment as she should be. That was because she only knew one side of him, had only ever seen Jett as an easy-going friend. She’d soon learn differently.
He guided her hand over his cock, increasing the pressure and the pace. Carissa licked her lips and for a moment, he was tempted to command her to her knees, to push his dick into her mouth, driving in until she swallowed his aching flesh. He needed relief, but he wasn’t going to find it soon. Digging deep for control, Jett pulled her hand away. He tucked his cock back in his jeans and zipped up. It wasn’t an easy task.
