Hero (4 page)

“What…” my voice wavered. “What are you doing?”

“You might have played before, but you don’t know the first thing about real BDSM,” he informed me, his tone roughening with his own lust. “I’m dominating you, princess. And you will learn the meaning of submission by the time I’m finished with you.”

A high, keening noise that I’d never made before slipped through my lips. It sounded like an animalistic whimper. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. The crop left my mouth to press beneath my chin, lifting my face for his scrutiny.

“That’s a very pretty color,” he remarked softly. “I like you blushing. I wonder where else you’re a lovely shade of pink,” he mused. “I’m going to make your pretty pussy nice and flushed.”

He paused for a moment, letting the crass words hover between us. They sank into me, burning through my insides and sending heat flashing through my body.

“Your safe word is
red,
” he told me. “Can you remember that?”

“Of course I can.” A hint of my indignation returned. Did he really think I was so dim that I couldn’t remember a simple safe word?

The pressure of the crop beneath my chin increased, tipping my head back further and forcing me up onto my toes.

“Don’t be so sure. I’m going to take you so high, you’ll forget your own name. But don’t forget that one word.”

I wanted to say that I doubted his arrogant assertion. No Dom had ever sent me into subspace. I might play the role of a sub for my scenes, but I never truly submitted.

But something deep within me whispered that I’d already lost. I’d made the mistake of engaging in a power play with him, and I’d ceded to his will. I’d thought I was fully in control of the scene, but what had seemed like small changes—the blindfold, the gentle caresses of the crop instead of painful strikes, his low, firm commands rather than barked orders—had made me come undone.

“Good girl,” he said again before I could gather my wits enough to formulate a flippant response.

“I didn’t say anything,” I protested weakly. I’d done nothing to earn his praise.

The crop tenderly traced the line of my jaw. I suddenly wished he’d touch me with his fingertips instead. My teeth sank into my lower lip as I bit back a plea for him to put his hands on me.

“You didn’t have to say anything,” he told me in that same smooth, soothing tone. “And you don’t have to fight me. I can tell you’re trying to resist. Submit.”

“I can’t,” I whispered.

“Yes, you can. You just don’t want to. But I’m not giving you a choice. Your only way out of this is your safe word.”

A beat of silence passed. He was giving me the opportunity to escape.

But I said nothing. I sealed my fate.

“Excellent. You’ve pleased me, Chloe.” The smooth leather traced the swell of my breasts again, and I arched into him as carnal sensation overwhelmed me. “That feels good, doesn’t it?”

I moaned. A bite of pain nipped at me as the crop slapped the top of my breast.

“I want a coherent answer,” he prompted, his voice lilting with arrogant amusement. A twin hit landed on my other breast, chastising me.

“Yes,” my shy admission was barely audible.

“Louder. And address me with respect.” The crop snapped against my sensitive inner thigh, and I cried out at the unexpected sting. With my sight taken, I couldn’t predict where the blows would land. It heightened my physical senses, making the relatively light hits inflict sensation that went deeper than my flesh. An odd tingling raced across my mind along with the sparks that danced across my skin. Thoughts turned hazy, and for a moment I floated.

Then the crop fell on my thighs again, snapping against one and then the other in rapid succession. I squealed and tried to close my legs, only to be reminded that they were held open by the spreader bar. My sound of protest transformed into a husky moan.

“I asked you a question,” his voice threaded through my mind. “Tell me this feels good. Tell me you like pleasing me.”

“Yes,” my voice seemed detached from my consciousness, leaving my lips without thought. “Yes, it feels good.”

“Yes,
Sir,
” he corrected me with another, sharper slap against my thigh. My abused flesh throbbed with a delicious burn, the warmth spreading up into my pussy.

“Yes,” I said more clearly. “It feels good, Sir.”

The crop suddenly pressed against my labia, stroking the wet folds. My head dropped back on a long sigh as pleasure flooded my mind.

“You mean it this time,” he said, his voice deep with satisfaction. “You called me Sir before because you thought it sounded like one of your romance novels. But this is the real thing, princess. A good Dom earns a sub’s respect.” He continued to stroke me with the crop, and my clit pulsed in need.

“I’m going to hit your clit, and you’re going to come for me,” he informed me. “But you’re going to ask me for it like a good girl. When we started, you demanded that I crop you. Do you want to try that request again?”

I whined my wordless resistance as a small part of me clung on to my final shreds of control.

He tapped the crop against my pussy lips, the light slap a promise of how he would stimulate my aching clit.

“We both know you want to come. I want it, too. I want you to give me a nice, big orgasm. Your pleasure is mine. Your body is under my control. I want to hear you admit it, to both of us. This is submission, princess. And you were made for it.”

His low, confident words wrapped around me like a caress even more erotic than the touch of the crop on my pussy. It was deeper than physical pleasure; it called to my soul.

I let out a blissful sigh, my entire body softening as I gave everything to him.

“That’s it,” he urged. “Surrender. Beg me for your orgasm.”

“Please make me come, Sir.”

“With pleasure.” The crop tapped against my clit, and I shrieked as the light sting elicited a burst of ecstasy that made stars pop across my darkened vision. “Come for me,” he ordered.

The leather snapped against my sensitive bud in a rapid, staccato rhythm, inexorably drawing pleasure from my body as the flashes of pain stoked white-hot ecstasy. It crested with shocking force, bliss shooting from my pulsing core to heat my entire body, from my clit to my toes and fingertips. My primal scream echoed throughout the dungeon as I let go completely, the heady sense of release heightening my pleasure to something transcendent. Chains rattled as I twisted and moaned, my orgasm rolling through me with a ruthless intensity that matched Dex’s unyielding dominance of my entire being.

Eventually, my orgasm faded away, but the soul-deep pleasure didn’t abate. I remained cocooned in warm bliss, nestled in its sweet embrace.

I was dimly aware of the cuffs loosening from my ankles and wrists, the tension of the chain releasing. Strong arms caught my boneless body as I sagged without the support. He lifted me up, cradling me against his hard chest. I pressed my cheek to his warmth and breathed in his rich, masculine scent: salt-kissed leather and something deeper I couldn’t quite identify.

Sweet, soothing words of praise floated down to me, the meaning clear even though I couldn’t quite focus on exactly what was being said.

I remained wrapped in warm, velvet darkness for a blissful eternity. After a long while, the blindfold was gently tugged free. Light seared across my closed lids, and I turned my face into his chest to block it out.

“Take a moment to adjust,” he said in that same smooth, comforting tone. The gentle order was impossible to refuse. I breathed deeply, lingering in the happy, floaty space I’d found at the center of my being.

“Open your eyes, Chloe,” he urged after a few quiet minutes. “It’s time to come back.”

I did as he commanded, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light that flooded my vision. After a few seconds, his face coalesced above me. His remarkable eyes were studying me with the same careful attention he’d shown since our scene began. He’d been fully focused on me the whole time, determined to see past my cool exterior and look into my soul. He’d been intent on earning my submission, and I’d surrendered.

Subspace.
I’d actually hit subspace. I’d read about it and written about it often enough to recognize what I’d experienced. But no beautifully-crafted words could ever fully prepare me for the pure bliss of complete release.

“How are you feeling?” he asked kindly.

“I’m fine,” I answered quickly. Now that my brain was piecing itself back together, discomfiture tightened my chest. Dex was holding me, his strong arms wrapped around me. My ass was still bare, my skin molding to his warm leathers. And there was something hard pressing into my flesh. I gasped and squirmed when I registered that I was sitting on his erection. His arms tightened around me, holding me in place.

“You don’t seem fine,” he remarked with a frown.

“You have an erection!” I exclaimed. I hadn’t been in such close contact with any man’s cock in years. Not since Neil…

His frown deepened. “Of course I do. That was a fucking hot scene. Just because I got a hard-on doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck you. I’m not an animal. I do have self-control.”

I pressed against his chiseled chest, trying to shove away from him. I might as well have been fighting against a marble statue.

“Let me go,” I demanded as calmly as I could manage.

He hesitated for a few seconds. I glared at him, meeting his keenly assessing gaze with defiance. He might have slipped past my defenses before, but our scene was over, and I wouldn’t let him in again. Submitting had been a mistake.

“Now,” I bit out, imbuing the one word with as much power as I could muster.

He loosened his grip, and I pushed up off his lap, barely finding my balance on shaking knees. I felt wrung-out, weak. Vulnerable.

I turned away from him and went to grab up my skirt, stepping into it and jerking it up my legs to cover myself.

“You’re going to drop,” his voice was heavy with disapproval. “I don’t have to touch you, but at least stay and talk to me for a little while.” He gestured to the empty cushion beside him on the leather couch where he’d been holding me. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

I drew in a deep breath and summoned up my composure. “Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t want to have sex. Thanks for the scene. It was very informative.”

“
Informative
?” He scowled.

I lifted my chin. “Yes. I think I got some good material for my book. I appreciate you taking the time to help me out with my research.”

“Your research,” he repeated in a cold monotone. “Right.”

I gave him a brusque nod. “Thanks again. I should get going. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Wait,” he commanded as I turned to leave. I stopped and looked back at him. “Promise me you’ll talk to Carina if you start to drop. I don’t like you leaving after an intense scene when you’re upset.”

I shrugged. “I’m not upset. But I’ll talk to Carina if I need to,” I added when his strong jaw firmed with disapproval.

I broke from his gaze and strode out of the room before the uncomfortable conversation could continue. I hadn’t been lying; I wasn’t
upset.
Not really. Annoyed with myself, maybe. I hated that I was so affected by the feel of Dex’s cock pressing into me. It was flagrant proof that I’d come perilously close to breaking my promise to myself. I didn’t want any man, but Dex had made my body crave his touch. The experience might have been mind-blowing, but I’d risked too much by making myself so vulnerable to him.

I shook him from my mind, putting all my conflicted emotions behind me. We had shared a pleasant evening, nothing more. And now that evening was ending. It was time for me to find Carina and leave Decadence. Tomorrow, I’d get my big break on my Latin Kings story, and I didn’t need thoughts of BDSM clouding my mind. I’d return to work on my book another night. Maybe a little time and distance would allow me to process what had happened with Dex without making me feel so hot and bothered and confused.

One thing was for certain: I’d definitely gotten the material I needed to take the kink factor in my books to the next level.

W
ith a title
like
Declan’s Desires,
I’d gone into Chloe’s book with low expectations. Not that I didn’t think she was intelligent, but the half-naked man pouting on the cover hadn’t set the bar very high. This wasn’t going to be as good as my usual sci-fi sagas.

Or so I thought. While the love story wasn’t really my thing, the writing was good. Better than good. Her settings were vivid, her characters well-drawn. And the BDSM scenes were fucking hot.

She’d left me alone and sexually frustrated just a few hours ago, and my hard-on came raging back to life as I read her lurid description of a flogging scene.

Although the character was a curvy blonde, I couldn’t help picturing a lithe brunette strapped down to the spanking bench. Was this Chloe’s personal fantasy? Did she also put herself in the role of the submissive when she was writing? Or was it simply a calculated write-up of a scene she thought would sell the most copies?

I still couldn’t get a read on Chloe. She claimed she was only interested in kink for research purposes, but she’d submitted so sweetly for me.

Well, maybe not so sweetly. She’d challenged me at every turn, making me work for her submission. I’d never had a scene like it. Even the brattiest subs I’d played with were eager to be dominated. Chloe had been detached, defiant. Until I finally broke through and revealed the submissive within.

But then she’d practically run from me when she came out of subspace. She’d told me at the beginning she wasn’t really a sub. Did she resent me for drawing out her submission? Or was there something more to it?

Something like fear had stirred in her dark eyes when she registered my erection pressing into her sweet ass. She’d said she didn’t want to have sex. Did she really think I’d violate her just because I was aroused?

Confused and frustrated, I set aside my e-reader before I could be further affected by the sexy words she’d written.

For the first time in longer than I cared to think about, I had gone unsatisfied for the evening at Decadence. I never failed to find a partner and see to my needs to dominate and fuck.

My dick tented my bed sheets, aching for release. Even though I’d put Chloe’s erotic book away, visions of her bent over a spanking bench filled my mind. Her pussy had been perfect, bare and pink. Her sheer panties had done little to conceal it from me. I’d had to summon up all my careful control to keep myself from removing the scrap of lace with my teeth and tasting her on my tongue.

Her pussy was easy to envision now, wet and waiting for me. Her body would be pinned down to the bench, helpless to resist me. She’d moan her need and beg me to touch her, to fuck her.

I wrapped my hand around my hard cock and stroked, imagining sliding into her slick heat. I’d start slow, teasing her with pleasure until she whimpered and whined for me to fuck her hard. I’d tangle my fingers in her long copper curls, tugging her head back to force her to arch into me. She’d turn her face to look back at me, her green eyes clouded with lust and devotion.

“Katie,” I groaned her name aloud, tormented by need and painful love.

“Reed,”
she moaned out in my fantasy.

My eyes snapped open, and I wrenched my hand away from my dick with a snarl. I sucked in deep breaths, my fingers curling to fists at my sides as I struggled to force the vision from my brain.

This was why I should have found a play partner who wanted to fuck. If left alone with my thoughts, they always strayed to Katie. I needed a real-life woman to keep me grounded in the present. Sexual pleasure was supposed to help me forget my lost love, not rip apart my fucking heart with reminders of her.

Damn Carina for convincing me to show Chloe around. If I’d been free to find a fuck buddy, I wouldn’t have engaged in such a hot scene that didn’t end with sexual gratification.

I never should have played with Chloe.

She’d made it clear from the very beginning that she was off-limits, but she’d intrigued me, and I’d wanted to dominate her. It had been a stupid decision. She’d hurt my pride, and I’d felt I had something to prove by bringing out her submission. It had been immature, a decision I might have made ten years ago when I was new to the lifestyle. By now, I should be confident enough as a Dom that I didn’t have to win the respect of a woman who wasn’t even really a sub.

But losing Katie had brought many lingering insecurities back to plague me over the last two years. BDSM had helped me overcome the years of bullying and helped me to find confidence and inner peace. The fact that I’d allowed Chloe to get under my skin just proved how far I’d fallen.

Get over it. Go to work tomorrow. Do some good. Go to Decadence. Fuck someone. Repeat.

I heaved in a deep breath. This was just a glitch, a disturbance in my comfortable routine. I’d return to my familiar coping mechanisms and move past it. Chloe would go back to Chicago, and I wouldn’t have to worry about what had happened with her anymore. God knew I’d never return to Dusk, so I’d probably never see her again.

* * *

T
he next morning
, I stepped out of the elevator and into the office, and stopped in my tracks. My brain stuck for a moment. What I was seeing couldn’t be right. She couldn’t be here. She didn’t belong.

Chloe stood beside Sharon where they’d been waiting for the elevator. Chloe simply regarded me with mild interest, her expression bland and polite. Nothing about her features reflected the shock that punched through my gut at the sight of her standing in my office.

“What’s up, Dex?” Sharon asked. “Are you sick or something? You look pale. If you’re contagious, go home. I don’t want to get infected. I don’t have time for that shit.”

“What’s she doing here?” I demanded.

Chloe’s full lips turned down in a frown, and her dark eyes hardened on me. “
She’s
here doing research for a story,” she said drily. “Good morning to you, too.”

Research again.
What was it with this woman butting into my life and treating everything I cared about so clinically? “You’re researching BDSM in the field office? I don’t think so. We might all be in the lifestyle, but this is completely inappropriate.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “It’s not for you to tell me what I can and can’t do. And I’m not researching BDSM. I’m also a journalist, and I’m working on a story about the Latin Kings. I’m shadowing Sharon today.”

“What?” I demanded. I turned my attention to Sharon. “She’s not serious, is she? She’s a civilian. She can’t go out in the field.”

“
She’s
sick of you referring to her in the third person when she’s standing right here,” Chloe said testily. “And I can go out in the field. You don’t have a say in this.”

“It’s too dangerous,” I insisted, trying my best to rein in my irritation. “Kennedy won’t allow it.”

“Kennedy’s the one who authorized it,” Sharon supplied.

“He wouldn’t,” I asserted, positive that I was correct. “Ken wouldn’t put a sub in danger like that.”

Chloe made an exasperated noise. “I don’t see what my sexual proclivities have to do with anything. Besides, I already told you I’m not a sub. Not that it should matter. Carina’s a sub, and she’s perfectly capable of being a journalist.”

Carina.
Of course she was behind this. Kennedy had a soft spot when it came to his precious sub. She must have convinced him to agree to this outrageous scenario.

I took a breath, struggling to summon up my control. “I’m not saying you’re not capable.” I tried to soothe her. “But I am saying this is dangerous. I’m going to talk to Kennedy about it.”

“Are you implying that I’m not competent enough to protect her?” Sharon demanded, her fiery temper rising. “I might be a sub, but I’m an agent, just the same as you.”

“And don’t you dare try to change Kennedy’s mind,” Chloe interjected. “I’m not going to let you ruin my chance at getting my big break. Just because you’re a Dom doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do.”

My head throbbed.
Is this seriously happening right now?

I’d resolved to put Chloe behind me, and here she was, interfering in my life. I’d allowed her lack of respect to irritate me last night, but now the woman was downright infuriating.

“It’s not like you to be a dick, Dex,” a new voice drawled.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment. Things were about to get worse.

Smith James stepped into our space where we were crowding the elevator. Of course the office gossip had come to see what was going on. He might like to think of himself as a badass agent and an even more badass Dom, but the man loved to get involved in everyone’s business, the juicier and more dramatic the better. I was sure every agent in New York would hear about my little run-in with Chloe within the hour.

“I’m not being a dick,” I said as calmly as I could manage, meeting his silver eyes. They danced with mischief. I didn’t at all care for his high-handed attitude. I might respect Smith, but his arrogant self-confidence grated on me at times. I’d known too many assholes with similar attitudes in high school. We hadn’t gotten along, to put it mildly.

“I think the lovely lady would disagree.” Smith tipped his head at Chloe. “Is he bothering you, Miss Martin?”

She gave a little dismissive wave. “It’s fine.” Her eyes found mine again. “I appreciate your concern, but this is my career. And it was Kennedy’s call. He says it’s okay, so it is.”

“I’ll keep her safe, Dex,” Sharon promised, her prickliness dropping. She obviously wanted to diffuse the situation now that Smith was sticking his nose in. None of us appreciated being the focal point of his gossip.

“Fine,” I caved, eager to escape Smith’s scrutiny. “I trust you, Sharon.”

I might not like it, but I’d rather not get involved. I’d resolved to put Chloe in my past. If she insisted on being in my present, I would just have to cope. I could focus on my own work and let Sharon deal with her.

Smith sighed. “Must you always be so stoic, Dex? Things were just getting interesting.”

“Sorry to ruin your fun,” I said drily. “I need to get to work. Excuse me.”

I brushed past the trio without another glance in Chloe’s direction.

Go to work. Do some good. Go to Decadence. Fuck someone. Repeat.