BeyondAddiction (8 page)

What worried him most was the lack of eye contact. That was
so out of character, at least for the woman he was used to.

“Fallon?” He moved closer. “Did something happen today? Your
lunch with Claire? Something happen with the errands?”

She just shook her head and continued removing her clothing
like a robot.

What the fuck?

And then out of nowhere, it hit him.

She’d seen
him
.

The bastard who’d fucked up her life. Fucked up
her
.
Had she run into him or had she deliberately sought him out? Shit, he didn’t
know how he’d handle it if it were the latter. It took all his willpower not to
smash his fist against the wall.

Pulling himself together, he used his best Dom voice.
“Fallon. Look at me. Now!” he snapped when she continued to look down at her
feet.

She lifted her face to his, her expression a mixture of
regret and disgust, but didn’t meet his gaze.

“You saw him today, right? That asshole you refuse to talk
about?”

She nodded.

“Was it deliberate? Did you call him?” He was barely holding
his temper in check. “Answer me, girl.”

“No, Sir.” She still hadn’t looked at him. From the moment
he spoke she’d been in full submissive mode, only her attitude was more one of
defeat than supplication.

What the fuck happened out there today? She was doing so
well?
We
were doing so well.

Something had suddenly changed and he damn well wanted to
know what it was, although he had his suspicions. He used every ounce of
control to contain the rage erupting inside him.

“Did you run into him somewhere?”

“Yes.” The word was so soft he had to strain to hear it.
Despite his instruction, she lowered her chin.

“Goddamn it, Fallon.” He hauled in a breath and clenched his
fists, fighting for control. “Look at you. You’re a wreck. Did you run into
Brian Willoughby?”

This time her answer was a whisper. “Yes.”

Cord felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

He let the next breath out slowly. He would have to do this
very carefully.

“I want you to look at me, girl.” He made his voice as firm
and steady as possible. “Keep your eyes on me and answer my questions. Do you
understand?”

She stood before him, nude, stripped down to the bare
individual. If she had any defenses against either her situation or his anger
they were completely submerged.

“I asked you a question.” He took a step closer. “Do you
understand me?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was still so low he had to strain to
hear it.

“Tell me what happened today. Where did you see him?”

“A-At La Cantera. The valet parking. I didn’t even see him
until he was right there beside me.”

“And did you talk to him?”

Haltingly, fingers twisting together, she related their
conversation. With each word, his rage grew. He could visualize the scene—the
smooth, domineering bully using his magnetism to mind-fuck a woman who still
harbored traces of an addiction.

Based on the little she was telling him of their encounter,
Cord was beginning to realize that in leaving Brian, Fallon had challenged him.
Challenged his control.

And Brian Willoughby didn’t seem like a man who would let
that go over easily.

“And how did you leave it with him?” He was almost afraid to
hear the answer.

“I-I ran from him, Sir.” She swallowed audibly. “I ran into
the restaurant.”

“Did he follow you?”

She shook her head then, apparently realizing he wanted
words, said, “No. Sir.”

So many conflicting emotions were at war within him, Cord
didn’t know where to begin. The first thing he planned to do was put on some
pants. He couldn’t possibly discipline a sub wearing only a towel. He left her
standing there, fingers linked together, gaze lowered again, while he dug out a
clean pair of boxer briefs and some jeans. He turned his back until he’d
fastened the snap on his jeans and tugged up the zipper. He had to be careful
that his anger didn’t bend his control.

“I can tell just by your attitude,” he said, “that you’re
expecting a punishment session. Am I right?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice trembled. “I deserve it. I want you to
punish me.”

“Not until you tell me what you did wrong. We aren’t playing
for pleasure here. Not at the moment.”

She studied the floor and clasped her hands behind her back.
“I didn’t tell you all about him before.”

He could barely hear her. That would never do. “When I ask
you a question, girl, I expect you to answer in a loud, clear voice. So tell me
again why I’m going to paddle that sweet ass of yours.”

“Because I hid things from you.” Louder this time. “Because
I didn’t let you know everything about him.” She wet her lips. “About B-Brian.
About our relationship. Because I wasn’t going to tell you about t-today.”

“And why is that important?” he prodded.

“I should never keep secrets from my Master. Secrets that
might…affect our relationship.”

“That’s correct,” he nodded. “And this is a big one. A very
big one. Because Brain Willoughby screwed up your head and I need to know how
to straighten it out.” He paused. “We can’t make this work unless we have
complete honesty between us. You need to have that impressed upon you.”

“Yes, Sir.” She bobbed her head. “That’s why I need to be
punished.”

“No.” He ground his teeth. “Not tonight. I will never punish
you for what someone else did to you.”

He loved the way Fallon embraced punishment, riding the edge
of pleasure and pain that drove her to intense orgasm. But that was always
within the context of the bedroom play. This was the first time he had ever
seen her stripped down to almost nothing emotionally, pleading with him to
reprimand her inappropriately, for something that was beyond her control.

But this situation was fraught with danger. He had to make
her understand the depth of his feelings for her, and understand that punishment
for running into someone completely by accident was cruelty, and he was not a
cruel man.

Still, he had to handle this in a way that illustrated who
was in control.

He blew out another breath. “On your knees. Hands behind
your back. Forehead to the floor.”

He watched as she arranged herself as directed, bent low,
ass in the air. The slight discomfort would serve as the punishment she thought
she needed. He sat at the foot of the bed, hands on his knees. And steeled
himself for what was to come.

“Now,” he said. “I want every single detail, what happened
from the moment you bumped into him everything you said and felt. Leave nothing
out. And speak up, so I can hear you.”

Fallon’s halting recitation of the run-in with the fucking
asshole made him grind his teeth in silent rage. Her description of the man’s
effect on her, of her fear, as well as the addiction she battled, made him want
to shoot someone. Preferably Willoughby.

Cord was a well-trained Dom. He’d studied at a couple of the
best dungeons in Dallas and observed other Doms carefully. Safe, sane and
consensual had been drummed into him. Respect. Negotiation. For every D/s
relationship, there was a different degree of intensity, different definitions
of how far to take things. But the basic rules were always in place. If anyone
violated them, the D/s community policed its own.

To hear that Brian, someone who obviously had only a sketchy
knowledge of the philosophy and practices, had subverted BDSM because he could,
made Cord angrier than he ever remembered being. He’d never understood how any
man could so extremely abuse a privilege granted to him. Listening to Fallon
made his blood boil.

When she was finished, he sat for a moment, gaze fixed on
her bent form. He wanted to pull her into his arms, soothe her, tell her they
would get through this together and everything would be fine. But he knew that
she wouldn’t believe him. So much of her emotionally destructive upbringing
still lingered, still fed her insecurities. Punishment was like an anchor to her,
but it had to be for the right reasons.

And tonight it would have to take a different from.

“And that’s all of it?” he asked.

“Yes. All of it.” Her voice was muffled by the carpet.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And he will never intrude into our lives again, correct? If
thoughts of him distress you, come to me at once and I’ll talk you through
them. If you run into him, you call me right away. If you need me to pick you
up because he’s upset you, I’ll be in my car before we’re off the phone.
Understood?”

“Understood.”

He didn’t remind her again that she hadn’t used the
honorific. She was in enough emotional distress as it was.

“All right. Get up, girl,” he ordered, doing his best to
hold on to his own emotions. He had to physically restrain himself from racing
out of the house, finding Brian Willoughby and strangling him with his bare
hands for causing so much anguish and distress to this very special woman.

He watched her balance herself carefully as she managed to
get to her feet, her equilibrium off-kilter because she couldn’t use her hands.
When she was standing before him, he cupped her face with his palms. He hoped
when she looked into his eyes she could see the depth of the love he felt for
her, as well as the respect. He chose his words carefully.

“No punishment tonight, Fallon. At least not the kind you’re
asking for. I think today did enough damage to you.”

“But—”

He touched a finger to her lips. “Never argue with your
Master. Tonight it’s all about doing what I can do to wipe away this blackness
gripping you.”

She wrinkled her forehead. “Sir?”

He could see she was confused, but the kind of pain she
expected was the last thing she needed right now. He might want to beat every
last trace of Brian Willoughby from her body but that would be irresponsible on
his part. How could he punish someone who was so visibly punishing herself? He
was smart enough to know that he couldn’t erase one kind of brutality with
another, no matter how lovingly delivered. In her fragile state, he was sure if
he did what she asked it would destroy her, and he loved her too much for that.

But tenderness was as much a part of being a Dom as pain and
punishment, both for pleasure and discipline. Tonight it was important to show
her how much she meant to him and what a special place she held in his heart.
Had he taken the time before now, he wondered, to let her know his depth of
feelings? Or had he just assumed from everything they did that she got the
message? After the event center’s grand opening, when she filled in the missing
details for him, he would decide how to move forward. Right now his mission was
to subject her to torture of the sweetest kind.

“Perhaps it’s my fault for not making sure you understood
exactly how important you are to me,” he told her, putting as much feeling into
his words as he could. “How much I value you. How I feel about you. That’s what
this will be about.” He stroked his fingers lightly on her cheek. “Now. I want
you on the bed, flat on your back. I have a specific kind of torture in mind.”

When she was situated as commanded, he knelt between her
thighs and braced a hand on either side of her. For a long moment he stared at
her still-pale face, saw the anguish and conflict in her eyes and made a silent
vow to protect her from this asshole no matter what.

Provided, of course, she let him.

No. He blanked that thought and focused on what he needed to
do right now—reinforce that tenderness was as much a part of being a Dom as
administering painful punishment. A good Master knew what to use when.

“What I have in mind, girl, is all about making sure you
understand I love you.” He gave her a smile. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not
still in control of your body.”

He raised her hands and wrapped her fingers around the
spindles in the headboard.

“Keep them there,” he commanded. “Don’t move unless I tell
you to. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” But she wore a puzzled look on her face.

He brought his mouth close to hers. “Tonight I want to show
you how special you are to me. How much I want to take the pieces that jackass
shattered you into and put them back together again. Whole.” He ran his tongue
over her lips. “I’m going to tease every part of your body. Give you pleasure.”
He nipped her lower lip. “But there is one rule in place. You do not come until
I give permission.
That’s
your punishment.”

He sprinkled kisses on her face, touching her nose, her
cheeks, her eyelids, delighting in the accelerated beat of the pulse at the
delicate hollow of her throat. Trailing his tongue down between her breasts, he
took one nipple into his mouth, sucking it and biting it and tugging at the
thin ring with his teeth. The bud firmed in his mouth, the pebbled surface
hardening. Fallon’s rate of breathing increased and her pulse beat faster.

When he moved his mouth to the other breast, a soft moan
floated from her throat and she tried to arch herself to meet his touch.

“None of that,” he cautioned. “You are to lie perfectly
still until I give you permission to move.”

Again he licked and nipped and pulled gently at the nipple
ring until the peak was swollen and hard.

“Sweet,” he told her. “I could live on your taste alone. I
think I need to tell you that more often.”

By the time he finished his ministrations to both nipples,
her entire body had tensed beneath him, a sign she was trying her best to
control the sensations racing through her. Fallon Crowe had a very responsive
body and tonight he would play it like a violin.

His tongue traced circular flesh of her navel, the tip
pressing gently into the center. Lapping at the soft skin of her tummy, he
followed a path to her naked mound, bare and waiting for his attention. He
insisted she keep it waxed, just one of his particular preferences. The flesh
was always more sensitive, allowing him to tease all the nerves just beneath
the surface.