No Going Back (Club Aegis Book 6)

by Christie Adams

  Every volume spoke to her of Guy. Tome after serious tome on history and politics, the art of warfare and the science of intelligence. If the man were transformed into books, he’d be the contents of these shelves—even the thrillers, ranked like soldiers, ordered by author’s surname. Some things about him would never change.

  Moving past the crammed shelves, Maddie arrived at the chimney breast. The mantelpiece almost matched her in height, an impressive feature in keeping with the magnificent house. The hearth showed signs of use, conjuring up the lure of cosy winter evenings in front of a log fire.

  Her imagination took the idea and ran with it—Guy seated in the leather armchair, a glass of Dalmore on the side table. In one hand he’d be holding a book, the latest novel by his favourite author maybe. The other would stroke her hair as she sat on a cushion at his feet, wearing nothing but his collar. In spite of everything, he was still her go-to fantasy, when the loneliness overwhelmed her and she admitted to herself exactly how much she missed him.

  The sigh came from deep in her soul. What they’d had then… it had been special, something she’d never hoped or sought to replicate. There was no going back to those halcyon days of their relationship. Too much water had gone under too many bridges for that to happen. But did she truly want to go back after the catharsis that awaited both of them one floor up? Going forward—together—was infinitely preferable.

  Though she hadn’t worn such high, spike-heeled shoes for years, Maddie ascended the staircase with barely a wobble, one hand on the solid oak rail for balance. In all the time they’d been together before, she’d never visited him here—they’d played at the club, or in his apartment in town. The house was centuries old—as she reached the top, she wondered how many other women had made this journey to meet their man. Guy’s mother, perhaps? In the photos Guy had shared with her, his parents had looked happy together, but what had gone on behind closed doors?

  Her footsteps clicked along the polished wooden floor. With the lights dimmed, her imagination worked overtime. So many thrilling possibilities. The most fitting, though, was a dark, Gothic romance, in which she was the female lead, on her way to meeting the scarred hero for the first time.

  Guy’s scars were on the inside. Recent and fresh, they were the scars of her betrayal. He wasn’t perfect, he’d never claimed to be, but he hadn’t allowed her to believe he was dead. In his own clumsy way, he’d tried to protect her from the pain of losing him on that mission. What she’d done, on the other hand…

  Item by item, she removed and folded her clothes as instructed. Cool air whispered over her skin, to be heated by a heart pounding with a combination of tension and expectation. As she completed her task by setting down her watch and earrings, Maddie spared a look at her reflection in the mirror over the table.

  One of Guy’s instructions had been to leave her face free of cosmetics. The symbolism of it didn’t escape her—there was to be nothing between them. With a trembling finger, Maddie traced a line from her temple to her jaw, where make-up usually concealed the last remaining evidence of the surgery that had saved her life and given her this face. While the accident accounted for the scars there and on her leg, the ones on her back had come home with her from Russia. How would Guy react when he found out what had caused them? Could their relationship withstand the impact of more secrets?

  More to the point, what would he do when he discovered the greatest secret of all?

  The second hand on her watch counted down her last moments of freedom. Her time was up. Maddie knocked on the door and waited.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  At the sound of the double rap, Guy automatically glanced at his watch. Precisely on time, but he hadn’t expected anything different. She’d always taken orders well. He tugged the bottom of his waistcoat straight, and took the half dozen strides to the heavy wooden chair at the far end of the room, opposite the door. The raised platform on which it stood gave it an intimidating, throne-like appearance. For Guy, it was more a prop than a piece of furniture to be used, but tonight the darkness within him demanded the illusion.

  He took his seat. With his elbows resting on the chair’s arms, his fingers laced together, and one ankle resting on the opposite knee, he was ready for the game to start. “Enter.”

  The door handle lowered, and Maddie slipped into his domain, semi-naked as he required. He sucked in a breath. He’d known every inch of that stunning body in their first life together, but now he adored its more mature beauty. In the name of heaven, why had she made it so difficult for him to see her totally naked when she was the exquisite essence of grace and loveliness?

  And in this lighting, subdued to enhance the mood, she was spectacular. More so, as she assumed the position he’d demanded of her. Her hands rested palm-down on her thighs, and even from this distance, the pressure of her fingers digging into her flesh was obvious.

  She was nervous.

  As she should be.

  “Give me your safewords.”

  “Red to stop, yellow to talk, green to affirm, Sire.”

  He didn’t expect the words to be a trigger. A flash of wounded ego reminded him of what he’d believed was their first time to play. Oh yes, she’d dipped much more than a toe into the lifestyle…

  He quickly shoved his ego aside—that episode was in the past, and this session would deal with it.

  But if her safewords reminded him of his first scene with Maddie, they also reminded him of his first scene with Liz and what preceded it, at the club they’d visited long before he’d ever heard of Aegis. He remembered her asking for that whipping as if it were yesterday. The negotiations that followed. The way she’d felt in his arms after the scene ended, when he’d cared for her afterwards…

  “Do you have any medical conditions I should be aware of?”

  “No, Sire.”

  “Good. You’re here of your own free will?”

  “I am, Sire.”

  “Crawl to me. And look straight at me, not to the side. Do not speak again unless I ask you a direct question or give you a command that requires a response.”

  His cock twitched and hardened even more as she came towards him on her hands and knees. Her full breasts, cradled in the delicate lace bra, reminded him of how she’d both loved and hated nipple clamps. A magnificent pair awaited her, once she was on his table.

  She stopped about four feet in front of him, but remained on all fours. It was then, from his elevated vantage point, that he saw it, the scarring that explained why she’d done her utmost to prevent him catching sight of her back.

  Scarring that he highly doubted was the result of an accident.

  In a heartbeat, Guy was on his knees at her side. She flinched when he traced the disfigurement with his fingertips—her pain became his. “What happened?”

  “It was a long time ago, Sire. I’d rather not think about it.”

  She might not want to think about it, but Guy was no fool. Those scars told a story, a series of lines he could read like a book, and he didn’t like it. “Tell me.”

  “It happened in the accident.”

  Like hell it did. From what she’d told him, for that to be true, the laws of physics would have to be rewritten. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. You have one more chance to tell me the truth.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  She couldn’t tell him but she could remember. A spasm of trembling betrayed the force of those memories. While he couldn’t ignore the matter indefinitely, perhaps it would be best discussed during a less emotionally charged occasion.

  And it would be discussed, both at length and in detail.

  Guy stood. With calm deliberation, he removed his waistcoat and draped it over the chair in front of the side table. His tie was next, placed with precision on the table top. He unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt, before removing his cuff links and rolling up his sleeves to mid-forearm. To emphasise the atmosphere of intimidation, his movements were careful and unhur
ried. That way, Maddie’s imagination would have plenty of time to conjure up a multitude of scenarios around what he might do to her on the table with its covering of thick, white towels.

  What he planned would be the catharsis they both needed, to clear away the spectre of the past and work out where they went next. He pushed away all thoughts of who might have enjoyed feeding her masochism since Guy had last left his mark on her body. If the bastard was responsible for those scars…

  “It’s time.” He offered her his hand.

  She took it and rose, her grip tight on his fingers, and as soon as she was on her feet again, he swept her up in his arms. She tensed, her breathing fast and shallow. “What—”

  “Shh.” He quieted her with a look more than with his voice. “Do I need to give you a refresher course in obedience before we start?”

  Her eyes lowered. “No, Sire. I apologise.”

  “Apology accepted.” He set her down on the table and took a step back. In silence he watched her. With each passing second, the tension between them escalated. Her breathing became shallow and rapid. Tremors shook her limbs once more. Somehow, he knew she was remembering how it had once been between them.

  So was he, and after a decade of keeping to the shadows, the sadist inside him took centre stage once again.

  “You know I’m going to hurt you?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “And you know I won’t fuck you when I’m done?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “Lie down. On your back, arms over your head and legs apart.”

  Guy turned away. He didn’t need to see what the soft sounds of her movements were telling him, that she was obeying his instructions to the letter. He returned to the side table and unlocked one of the two drawers.

  It was kept locked for a reason. That reason lay on a bed of black velvet. He picked up the knife, removed it from its sheath, and examined the exquisitely chased blade. In spite of where his interests lay, he had no taste for using such a keen implement on soft, creamy skin. He would never inflict any permanent mark on such alabaster perfection. Any marks he did leave would only ever be temporary, and to make them, his implement of choice was the cane. Maddie’s—or should that be Liz’s?—love of it had made their relationship a perfect symbiosis.

  He remembered that negotiation as if it were yesterday—a social get-together only, arranged after their initial meeting, to discover where their interests meshed. He recalled her hesitation when she’d described needs that belonged at the more extreme end of the spectrum. Not for her a little light bondage and spanking.

  By the end of that encounter, he’d known she’d be his. Though she’d made her eagerness to move to the next stage clear, he’d made both of them wait. Three more dates was all he could manage before stripping her naked with his hands as well as his eyes.

  Guy closed his eyes, as if by doing so, he could banish the memories of how good they’d been together. There was no going back to that time. However, as Maddie herself had said, maybe this session would enable them to set their mistakes aside and move forward. To where, to what, he wasn’t sure. Together? He wasn’t sure of that, either.

  All he knew for certain was that they both needed this.

  He sheathed the knife and clipped it to his belt.

  The sight of her lying there tied his stomach in knots. So much was riding on what happened next. Would this write The End on their relationship, or open up the first of many new chapters?

  Without saying a word, he guided her hands to the correct position, so he could bind her wrists in the cuffs chained to the corner of the table.

  Guy took a temporary seat on the edge of the table, close to Maddie’s head. She looked uncomfortable but not distressed. Too short to be gathered into her neat, practical braid, a stray wisp of hair clung to her cheek. He brushed it to one side, using the act as an excuse to stroke the side of her face. He smiled.

  “We’ve already agreed your safewords—define them for me, please.”

  “Yes, Sire. Red, yellow, green—stop, slow down, continue, in that order. Sire—I need to be here. I need this.”

  He let the outburst go, preferring to brush the back of his fingers down her cheek again. So soft. “We both do, pet.”

  When he produced the knife and showed her the naked blade, her eyes widened. To most people, the razor-sharp edge would look frightening. The vulnerable position Maddie now occupied would ramp that up to terrifying, especially since knife play had never featured in their shared past.

  “May I compliment you on your choice of lingerie, Madeleine? The colour suits you.”

  “Thank you, Sire.”

  Midnight blue was striking against her fair skin. Such a pity he was about to ruin the set by cutting it from her body. On the other hand, it would be fun to shop for replacements and have her model them for him.

  Taking the utmost care—because, sadist though he was, this was a mindfuck, too—he lifted each strap and sliced it through it. He finished the deed with a snapping cut to the lace between her breasts. With each slice of the knife, she gave a spasmodic jerk that sent an electrifying surge of satisfaction through him.

  The fabric fell away, revealing the perfection he adored, then as now. He flicked a glance at her expression, and was gratified to see lust and outrage chase across her face. Her whimper broke free when he sliced through the narrow elasticated bands at her hips and flicked the ruined thong away. Though he had no intention of taking her, the urge to do so became a relentless assault on his determination. Instead of giving in, he gorged himself on the feast before him, approving of the neatly trimmed pubic hair and perfectly waxed bikini line. Just as his woman should look.

  Its job done, he stowed the knife back in the drawer. Only her footwear remained, ridiculously high heels that made him eternally grateful he wasn’t a woman. He moved to the opposite end of the table. This position was a perfect vantage point to enjoy all the soft, sinuous curves of a woman in her prime. The rage to possess her ripped through his body.

  “I think these can go now.”

  He removed her shoes. Perfectly pedicured toes wiggled in celebration of their freedom. He didn’t miss their owner’s soft sigh of relief, or the purr that followed, when he pressed his thumbs along their arches. Figured. From what he’d seen, she spent a lot of her working day on her feet. He’d always hated her suffering from any pain not inflicted by him.

  With a hand under her knee, he bent first one leg, then the other, letting them splay apart. She made such a pretty picture. Guy sat on the edge of the table, and lifted her foot to rest against his shoulder, so he could massage her calf. She purred again, a soft, kitten-like moan of pure pleasure.

  His mouth quirked in a small, satisfied grin. “You like that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Sire.” Her words were barely audible.

  Without breaking the rhythm, Guy moved his hands higher, past her knee to her thigh. Lean, yoga-toned muscles tensed beneath his fingers. “Relax, pet. You’re in my hands now.”

  To emphasise the point, he slid his hand all the way up to the apex of her thighs. The silken skin quivered beneath his touch. Without warning, he inserted two fingers into her slick core and pushed his thumb against her clit. She cried out, and her inner muscles clamped down hard.

  Beneath his free hand, her femoral muscles tensed. She was in good shape, and more than able to withstand what he had planned for her. She’d always been able to take his punishments.

  “Don’t.”

  He almost snarled the word. She was trying to bring her thighs together, and he wasn’t having any of it. One more twitch, and he’d remind her the hard way.

  And there it was. Her shriek, when he administered the slap to her mound, was half indignation, half arousal.

  “You know the rules, pet. This body belongs to me.”

  “That was then—”

  “And this is now. You agreed the terms when you responded to my email, so the rules we played by then apply now, too.
Unless you safeword, you belong to me. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sire, I understand.”

  Her husky acknowledgement sent a stab of pure, lustful need through his body. Or maybe that should be impure, lustful need. He scissored his fingers inside her, and found her even slicker with arousal. He moved them again, and with another whimper, she tilted her hips up, as if trying to get away from him.

  “You really think I’d make it easy for you?” His palm on her lower abdomen held her down while he renewed his efforts to stimulate her. For good measure, he added a third finger and applied more pressure to her clit.

  Her quiet sob thrilled him. On an instinctive level he remembered that sound, the way it had always affected him. He worked her clit with his thumb some more, and her breathing turned to panting.

  “Do you remember how I trained you to take my whole hand, Madeleine? How wet you’d get during our sessions? That’s it,” he crooned when her clit pulsed beneath his thumb. He dragged his nail across the smooth, sensitised button. With each spasmodic jerk of her body, his own pleasure mounted.

  “Please, Sire.” Her tone was imploring, intended to appeal to the better nature he’d left outside the playroom.

  “Yes, pet, you do please me.” He moved his fingers, parting them so they stretched her a little more. She wasn’t ready to take his last finger yet, but she would be, soon. And if his inner sadist was pleased about that, his inner Neanderthal was even more delighted. It confirmed she hadn’t been with a man who’d tested her—not recently, at any rate.

  Her skin glowed, and her head tossed from side to side as she sank more deeply under his control and surrendered to the sensations he was giving her. She was breathing even more heavily now, the rise and fall of her breasts as hypnotic as ever. How could he have forgotten the sheer beauty of her reaction to his control?