Authors: Lilli Feisty
He was too stunned to respond. Instead he watched as the brunette stalked over to the bed. She wore the sluttiest high heels he’d ever seen—which was saying something—but she was a pro at strutting in them. Each step she took sent one hip out in a jaunty jerk. Left, right. Swish, sway. It was mesmerizing.
She smiled down at the girl tied to his bed and then slapped one of her nipples twice with the flogger. The girl cried out, but her eyes went wide.
His cock jerked at the sight.
He ran a hand over his scalp. “Who the fuck let you in here?”
The brunette just looked at him. “Mark. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten us. That would make me very sad. And very, very mad.”
He let his gaze drop over her small form. Her breasts were disproportionately large and round. He raked his memory. They did look familiar. But where? When? There were just so many of them. So many and none of them memorable. Just sex. Bodies. Toys.
Grinning, the brunette knelt on the bed, next to her “prisoner.” She reached right between the blonde’s legs and, using two fingers, spread open her pussy. “Come on now, Mark. Don’t tell me you forgot this cunt.” Leaning down, she licked the woman’s pussy in a long, slow lap. Then she slid two fingers inside the blonde, causing a piercing cry to erupt from her mouth.
He remembered that sound. It all came back in a rush. Last year, in this city. He’d been at a BDSM club and he’d found these two playing there. They had been beautiful; the blonde had been tied to a cross, her back to the crowd. He’d watched as the brunette flogged her sub until Mary had been crying out in pleasure. That unique, almost-annoying cry.
Mark had noticed that whenever Mary would clench her hands, her domme would stop and kiss her gently. It had been a beautiful thing, and from them Mark had learned a lot about watching the signs of a sub and knowing when they were reaching their limits.
After, they’d gone back to his room and spent the rest of the night using Mary as their willing plaything.
He was hard thinking about it. He remembered the way Mary had taken him into her mouth as her mistress—Beth, if he remembered correctly—had spanked her ass. He remembered the way each time he heard that
slap
of skin on skin, she’d taken him deeper and deeper.
He closed his eyes. “I remember, it just took me a minute.” Suddenly needing a drink, he pulled a bottle of Jack from the minibar. Ah, you knew you were successful when the minibar was stocked with full-sized bottles of booze.
He poured a shot into a tumbler. “How could I forget Detroit’s kinkiest couple? But you didn’t answer my question. How did you get into my room?”
Beth smiled sweetly. “Don’t you remember? You told your manager to let us in anytime you were in town. We wanted to surprise you.”
He laughed, the sound rough and cracked. “Yeah. You did.”
Beth raised a brow at him. “So why are you still dressed?” Bending, she reached beside the bed and picked up a long-handled rubber paddle.
Setting his glass down, he took the paddle and drew the wide end across his hand. He looked at Mary, tied and naked before him. Her pussy was glistening, waiting. Her eyes were dilated and expectant. She was a professional, this one. A true pain slut, exactly how he liked them. He could really let go with her. He could turn her over and paddle her shoulders, her ass, her upper thighs. He could take a flogger and drag the long, leather strands across her open pussy until she cried out for him to smack her clit. And he knew from experience that was exactly what she’d do.
He slapped his palm with the paddle, and the girls both jumped at the sound. He grinned. “Now, ladies. Who wants a drink?”
It was 1:30 a.m., and Ruby couldn’t sleep. Her head hurt, her heart hurt. She was a mess.
She was sitting at the kitchen table staring at her cell phone. She hadn’t heard his voice since she’d called to make sure the Riders would be playing for the Spring Fling. She’d had an excuse to call him then, but now she just had a need. A need to hear his voice. Unfortunately, she’d gotten his voice mail and she hadn’t left a message.
The need to see him burned inside her gut, and she was having a hell of a time putting that fire out.
He was just across the city. She didn’t know for how much longer, but he was there now, and she wanted to see him.
She picked up the phone and dialed.
“Ruby?” He sounded breathless.
His voice was such a comforting relief that she started to cry when she heard it. Pausing, she waited for her throat to relax enough to speak.
“Ruby. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, God.” She started babbling because she had to talk about her experience at the sex club with someone who would understand. She told him everything, from the bouncer to the candle wax to the man who’d invited her to join him at the spanking bench.
“Oh, God. Mark, it was just so…” She trailed off when she heard noise behind him. Voices. She held her breath, filled with an odd premonition. “Am I calling at a bad time?”
“Oh, baby.” There was something in his voice, a haggard strain she’d never heard before. “It’s fine. Talk to me, Ruby.”
“Where are you?”
“Detroit, actually. We got called in as a replacement band at the last minute.”
“Oh.” A chill went through her. “Detroit.” He’d flown across the country and she hadn’t even known. “Okay. So, are you at a party now?”
“Um, not really. No.” She’d never heard him sound so tense, and her stomach lurched with a sickening wave of nausea. The voices were murmuring in the background. Female voices.
She swallowed down her queasiness. “You… you’re busy. It’s fine.”
“Ruby,” he strained out in the slow, measured way one would use when speaking to a person on the edge. “Give me two minutes. Two minutes, and I’ll call you right back.”
“You’re with someone, aren’t you?”
A long pause and then, “Yes.”
A singsong voice came through the phone. “
Mark. Are you coming back to us?
”
Ruby couldn’t think or breathe or speak. There was a vise clamped around her throat. Even as she told herself she had absolutely no right to be jealous or angry, her words came out in a tight screech. “Us?
Us?
As in
two
?”
His voice came at her in a low and intense hiss. “Didn’t you just go to a fetish party, Ruby? Didn’t you just call me because you had to tell me all about your experience and how hot you are now because some guy invited you to join him in a little play session?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like then?”
He was agitated, angry, and the last thing she wanted to do was fight with him. There was a part of her that was still high from her experience at the party, and she just couldn’t deal with it. Couldn’t deal with anything, especially him and his
sluts
.
“What was it like?” he asked again, and in her mind she could see him clenching his teeth.
The experience had left her too raw, too open to lie now. “I wanted it to be you,” she whispered and hung up the phone.
“God
damn
it!” Mark threw his phone onto a side table where it skittered across the wood and landed with a thump against a lamp. Ruby wasn’t answering. She’d been distraught; he shouldn’t have argued with her when she was coming down off a high like that.
“Mark, you want another drink?” Mary pulled on her coat and tied the belt at her waist. “Before we go?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Beth cocked her hip to the side, emphasizing her long, gorgeous legs. “You sure you want us to go? You seem upset, and we have just the girl for you to take your frustrations out on.” She winked at him. “Our offer still stands. It’s not too late to change your mind.”
He’d just finished a drink with the girls, and they were on their way out. Despite how sexy they were, they didn’t appeal to him. He’d figured one cocktail would be enough to send them on their way without too much argument, and he’d been right.
But now? He was tempted, so
fucking
tempted. He knew from experience that sex was a fan-fucking-tastic way to forget his problems.
The thought of some other man touching Ruby made his chest pound with cold jealousy and anger. He knew damn well he had absolutely no right to those feelings, but he couldn’t stop them.
Playing with these two women would get his mind off things, chase all those fucked-up feelings away.
At least temporarily.
Beth took a step toward him. She rubbed her hands up his chest and purred like a kitten. “You sure you don’t want us to stay? Me on bottom. You on top, just like last time.” She bit her lip in a practiced way. “I haven’t let anyone top me since you, babe.”
He doubted that very much, but he appreciated the effort. His gaze darted between the women, so beautiful, so sexy, and so available.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, ladies. Not tonight.”
After they’d gone he went to the window and pulled open the curtain. A million lights twinkled in the skyline. He stared until the bright colors blurred together.
Last year he’d had a great night of meaningless sex with two gorgeous women. And tonight he’d sent those same two women away. If he’d been here a few weeks earlier, he would have been fucking ecstatic to find them in his room.
Then why did he feel as if he’d just dodged a bullet? What had changed?
Of course, he knew. The answer came in the form of a wickedly smart, sexy raven-haired woman who smelled like jasmine and tasted like heaven.
So, yeah. He knew the answer. The question was: What was he going to do about it?
R
uby woke from a recurring nightmare.
It always started the same. She was back at the house at the beach. It was dark and she couldn’t find her sister. She was in her nightgown, running through their small house, calling Claire’s name. But she couldn’t find her; not in their room, not in their mother’s room, nowhere…
She jerked awake, her heart jackhammering in her chest.
It was ridiculous to feel guilty about a dream. Ruby tossed her covers aside and padded to the bathroom. She checked her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were wide, scared. Her body felt empty.
Making her morning coffee, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. But as her mind slowly awakened she realized it wasn’t really the dream that had her upset; it was the experience from last night. The party, the things she’d seen. The late-night call to Mark.
What the fuck had she been thinking? With her coffee, she went to the living room and plopped into her favorite chair. She took her cell phone out of her bathrobe pocket and dialed.
“It’s nine a.m.,” a gravelly voice answered. “This better be good.”
“I had a bad dream.”
“Aw, sis. The geyser dream? Or the locked door?”
“Locked door.”
She heard the sounds of Claire stifling a yawn, moving in her bed. “It’s okay, honey. It was just a dream.”
She laughed shakily. “You’d think I would be used to these by now. I mean, it’s been what? Twenty-some years?”
“You’re too uptight. You never allowed yourself any room to get pissed or frustrated. I’m not surprised it all comes out in your dreams.”
“Thanks, Freud.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“I guess.” She blew on her coffee. “Claire, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you think I failed you? Be honest; I can take it.”
She heard a quick intake of breath. “What? Are you kidding? Growing up, I thought you were better than any mother I knew. And way cooler, too.”
“Mom did her best.”
“Mom’s a flake and you know it. You’re the one I always looked up to. Even now, you’re still my role model.”
“I’m no role model, far from it.” What would Claire think of her perfect sister if she knew where Ruby had been last night? She didn’t want to know.
After they’d disconnected, Ruby stared at the phone. Ten missed calls, all from Mark. She wasn’t even sure why she was avoiding him. Partly from anger, but was she mad at herself or Mark? Or both?
She threw the phone aside and went to her bathroom, suddenly in need of a soothing, warm soak. She loved her bathtub. It was a claw-foot that was probably as old as the Victorian building in which she lived. It had been a rusty old beast when she moved in, but one weekend she’d holed herself up and painted the exterior a shiny black to match the black-and-white tiled floor.
She turned on the ancient brass faucets and squirted a healthy dose of jasmine bubble bath into the water. She slid off her robe and nightie, and once the tub was full she sank into the warm water. Breathing in the pungent jasmine scent of the bubble bath, she immediately began to relax.
Steam filled the small space, fogging up mirrors and windows. She’d wanted the water extra hot this morning, and it felt good, cleansing. Closing her eyes, she steadied her breathing, listened to the flow of water from the faucet as her heart started to slow its nervous pace.
For the first time since last night she was calm enough to really think. And she couldn’t get the images of what she’d seen at the fetish party out of her head. When she went to bed last night, she was too upset to allow herself any pleasure from the experience.
She turned off the water and suddenly the room was quiet. So silent she could hear the murmur of her neighbor’s television and the traffic on Clement Street. The sounds of normal San Franciscans going about their normal Sunday routines.
But nothing felt normal to Ruby this Sunday. Because she couldn’t get the erotic images out of her head.
And, with a start, she realized she didn’t want to.
When she closed her eyes she saw the woman with the candle wax. Out of nowhere, she had a picture of Mark tied to a bed, covered in hot wax. She imagined what it would be like to slowly tilt a votive until the molten wax spilled out of the candle and onto his nipples, onto the piercings he had there. He’d jerk at the shock of the heat, like the man last night, but his erection would tell her how much he enjoyed it.