Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Protecting New York (Kindle Worlds Novella) (8 page)

“I can’t stop!” she gasped, her whole body felt infused with drugging pleasure. “It won’t—stop— coming—”

Dude placed one hand on her throat. And squeezed. “Don’t stop, Shy. Don’t you dare fucking stop.” The fingers inside her flipped, then instead of in and out he was pumping up and down, massaging her G-spot with pinpoint accuracy while he started to restrict her airflow.

They’d never tried breath play before, but Shy was too far gone to be panicked. No, she was amazed. Everything built within her. The tension, the pleasure, everything was heightened by the new technique. Combined with what he was doing with his other hand and the look of complete and total absorption on his gorgeous face as he mastered her body, Cheyenne was lost.

On a final gasp and shout, Shy fell into a bottomless well of pleasure the likes of which she’d never known existed and came screaming, with a rush of fluid that splashed over Faulkner’s pumping hand like a geyser.

S
ubspace
.

Faulkner had heard about it obviously, but to see it in reality on the love of his life was a joy so complete and eutrophic it was bordering on hallucinogenic. He was hyper-aware of her and their surroundings. The beat of Shy’s heart was the metronome that set the rhythm for his own.

She was breathtaking in her passion. Dark mussed hair framed her flushed face, making the porcelain beauty of her complexion all the more alluring. She was still fully clothed and though he would have loved to have her gorgeous body revealed to him, the sexy dress was an added tease. It was a dark thrill knowing the only thing under it was a vibrator and her naked flesh.

He used his hands now more to soothe than arouse, as he ran them over her still-trembling form.

Faulkner heard the soft tread of steps approaching from behind and had an insane urge to bare his teeth at whoever dared to interrupt him.

“For your sub.” Brice held out a bottle of water in one hand and a soft-looking towel in the other. “She’s bound to be dehydrated after that. Fucking beautiful scene, man.”

Brice had the same fire burning in his eyes that Faulkner felt burning inside himself. Turning his head slightly, he saw that Terryn was in pretty much the same shape as Cheyenne.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the items from him. “Your sub looks like she’s there too.”

“Yeah,” Brice replied a little boastfully. “She shot up there pretty quick once we had two scenes to watch.”

“Nice.” Dude felt not a small dose of pride in his Cheyenne. Her first time in a club and she’d opened herself so completely to him and the experience that she’d not only been able to come, but she’d had multiple climaxes followed by a G-spot orgasm and subspace.

It took an insane amount of trust to let go like that in any situation, but in a public setting, it was remarkable for a newbie to the lifestyle.

“I think I’m going to take my sub to explore the spanking bench before we head out.” At her hoarse gasp, Dude winked at Brice before forcing a stern expression on his face and turning to Shy. “You came before you had permission. And while you came beautifully and that pleased me very much, you will still face the consequences.” Then he kissed her on the nose.

Dude scooped his subbie up and carried her to the spanking bench they’d passed on their way in. Not that she couldn’t walk, but Shy was deep in subspace now and she was an irresistible armful of soft snuggling woman. He was not ready to let go.

The spanking bench was thickly padded in bold red leather. “Here you go, Shy. Careful, kneel on it here. That’s the way, now just fold forward. Further, a bit more. Can you grab the handles on the sides? You see ’em? There, yes. Perfect.” The positioning of the bench had her looking like a jockey stretched over a steed. Faulkner enjoyed the view from all angles, then squatted down until he could look Shy in the eye. “I need to hear your words, Shy. Time to check in.”

“M’kay,” she replied like a drunk at a frat party.

“Are you comfortable? Nothing pinching or poking?”

“I’m com’ferble.”

Dude smiled. “What about the scene? You ready for this?”

“Hmm-mmm.” Eyes that had the power to bring him to his knees were closed at the moment, so he tapped lightly on the tip of her nose.

“Words, baby. You know I need your words.”

“I’m ready,” she purred, then those eyes opened and what he saw in them reignited the raging desire that he had yet to quench. “Bring it.”

Dude didn’t trust himself to talk. Her trust, her surrender was enough of an aphrodisiac as it was. For her to throw in that ballsy spunky challenge tested his control like nothing else could have.

Dude rose and got into position behind her kneeling form, lifted the skirt and folded it over her back so her luscious ass was revealed in all its glory.

He took a few moments to run his hands over the soft globes before he began. A quick, firm massage to awaken the nerves just below the surface, with some squeezing and jiggling thrown in for nothing more than the pleasure it brought him to touch her.

He knew the others in their party had formed a semi-circle to watch, along with several club members. They all faded to the edge of his consciousness. Too many years in the military under his belt to allow him to ever completely close out his surroundings, but this was as close as he’d ever come to it. There was nothing in the world but him and his woman and the gift of her submission.

Slap.
The first strike was light, just enough for a surface sting and to deepen the flush that his massage had started. Shy was so lost in the clouds of subspace that her only response was a purr. He swatted the other cheek next, a little harder, and she only purred louder.

Smack! Whack!

Two sharp blows came next, fast, one after the other, and her purr morphed to a moan. Dude, emboldened by her obvious enjoyment, struck harder and faster. Her supple flesh blossomed with color and the way her ass jiggled under the impact of the blows was a thing of beauty.

With one hand, Dude reached between her legs and double checked the positioning of the butterfly just to make sure it was where it needed to be, then he flipped it on.

Cheyenne went nuts.

Her cries rang out with delighted ecstasy as the dual sensations catapulted her right back into delirium. Dude readied himself, opening his fly and fitting on the damned condom since it was a club rule and, at last, stood behind his sub. He watched as he rubbed the engorged head of his shaft over her folds, each stroke from it bringing a plea for more from her lips.

She was pushing back into him and begging now, her cries frantic with need. “Please. Faulkner, God, please. Now. Now, oh God, now!”

And he was lost.

Sinking into her was like falling into heaven. Only, heaven could never be this decadent, this carnal. His body roared with the need for release and the raw animal hunger that clawed at him like a beast trying to get free snapped his fucking leash and ravished.

Dude’s hips bucked against the cheeks he’d reddened, the globes as fiery as she was on the inside. Dude wasn’t the vocal type typically but there was no holding back tonight as Shy met him lunge for lunge and stroke for stroke. Fucking him back with all the crazed passion he was fucking her.

He was going to lose it. Lose it now, and he didn’t want to reach the end without her. Dude bent forward and wrapped her dark hair in his fist. With a tug he brought her head back until she was arched for him, and the angle pressed her hips hard against the vibe. With every thrust, she jolted from the dual impact and after five, soul-freeing pumps, she flew. Shy’s screams fell soundlessly from her open and gasping mouth. The orgasm so powerful she went silent as Dude felt her pussy clamp on to him like it had teeth.

He didn’t just
come
—she fucking
took
his climax. The force of hers ripped it from his body so there was no control. No holding back or holding anything in.

He laid his soul bare for her and with his entire being caught in the grips of it, flooded into her the most powerful release of his life.

T
he next morning
, Shy was having brunch with Riley and Terryn as promised. They’d taken her to a lovely café with a view of Central Park. It was a bit of a challenge to stay focused on the conversation, as Shy was still reeling from the events of the night before.

She remembered how she’d lain sprawled in that sex chair, floating in a cloud of iridescence unlike she’d ever known. She had gazed up at Faulkner in wonder. The ferocity of passion in his face was a sight she wouldn’t forget. He’d demolished every inhibition she’d ever held and laid her soul bare to him with that scene.

Even though her head felt stuffed with cotton, and ears rang like Christmas bells, Cheyenne had still heard Dude say she was getting spanked loud and clear.

The scene that followed, her first spanking and their first public sex, had been the darkest of fantasies come to life. It had been heaven. After they’d left, she’d not believed he could possibly have another round in him. Her husband had other ideas though—they had not included more time in the club however.

He had bundled her up and carried her out with hardly more than a word to their new friends. They said their goodbyes in the lobby and took their own cab back to the hotel. Riley and Terryn both promised to see her bright and early for their siege on the city before she’d been whisked away, though.

Faulkner hadn’t been through with her that night. Not by a long shot. In the cab, he’d leaned close and whispered instructions to her that gave new life to the embers of desire she was sure would have been beyond her at that point.

She should have known better. When it came to her SEAL, more than enough was just where he warmed up.

“Shy,” he’d said. “When the car stops, I want you to head straight to our room. I’m going to hit the lounge and order one drink before heading up.” He’d taken her chin in his hand as if he hadn’t already had her full attention. “When I get to the room, I want you naked and on your back on the bed. Arms and legs spread for me. And Shy, I want you blindfolded.”

Cheyenne sipped her sweet tea with lemon and sighed like a dreamy schoolgirl as she remembered what had happened next. The hurried walk through the lobby—

“Wait.” Something flashed in her mind that stopped her steamy thoughts in their tracks.

“What’s up, honey?” Riley asked from across the table. Cheyenne met her politely inquisitive expression.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt and say that out loud,” she said as she realized she had cut Terryn off in the middle of a story about some of the kids from the shelter.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Terryn waved off her apology. “It’s just shop talk anyway. What were you going to say?”

“You know how sometimes you can see something, and exactly
what
you saw won’t register until much later?” When the other girls nodded she continued. “Well, I just remembered my walk through the lobby last night when we got back to our hotel.” Cheyenne squinted and rested her forehead in her hands as she tried harder to focus. “But I
couldn’t
have. That just can’t be right.”

“Cheyenne?” Terryn asked, concern in her voice. “What? The suspense is killing us.”

“It’s the damnedest thing.” She plopped her hands on the table and looked into the faces of her new friends. “I must be going crazy, but I could swear I saw someone from home by the elevators last night.”

“They were probably just on vacation too,” Riley told her and took a bite of her Cobb salad. “This is New York City, after all. The place is crazy with tourists.”

“Yeah, I know that and maybe I’m wrong,” she said, even as certainty settled like a lead ball in her gut.

“But you don’t look like you believe that,” Terryn told her and placed her hand over Cheyenne’s.

“To be honest, no. I don’t believe I’m wrong. The problem is I can’t shake the feeling that there is a reason he’s here.” She took another sip of her tea and it felt like she’d swallowed sand instead of liquid, thanks to the choking fear that had grabbed hold of her. “A not good reason either. You guys know how Faulkner and I met, right?” When the others nodded she went on. “Well, during the rescue, the guys holding us hostage were all shot down by the SWAT team. Then a few months later, the brother of one of those men and the sister of another got together and kidnapped me again.”

The others gasped and offered words of shock and concern, but she waved those away with a smile of thanks and went on. “It was somehow their twisted sense of revenge.” Riley and Terryn both reached out in comfort again, but Shy was quick to assure them. “No. No, I’m fine. It’s all water under the bridge and Faulkner saved me that time too. So, it’s all good.”

“Is the person you saw one of those last two who attacked you? Aren’t they in jail?” Terryn looked outraged at the possibility that they were free.

“No, those two are in jail and won’t be coming out any time soon. It was Miguel, the third brother. I would know him anywhere.” When the other two looked a little confused, she clarified. “I couldn’t help but watch every interview and show the families of those who attacked us appeared on,” she admitted, feeling sheepish. “After it happened, the reporters were relentless, and when neither Dude nor I would give interviews, they just twisted the story around to police brutality and made the whole world feel sorry for the men who tried to blow me up.”

“That’s just bullshit.”

“I know, right?” It felt incredible to have their instant and unwavering support. “It was so hard for a while there. Even my own mother and sister believed the reports and took their side against me.”

More shock and outrage, and Cheyenne couldn’t have put into words what their reaction meant to her or how it helped fill in the hole her family left behind. “But, I still watched every clip and exposé and that’s how come I recognized Miguel. He was just starting high school so the reporters really pushed on how he lost his ‘father figure’ so violently and tragically.” Remembering it that way pulled at her heartstrings for the poor kid all over again.

“Psssh!” Riley had a look of disgust on her face. “Seriously? Some cretin straps a
bomb
to you and the media is worried about someone losing him as a father figure? Yeah. That sounds like the father of the year to me. What about you, Terryn?”

“Oh yeah.” The sarcasm Terryn loosed was sharp enough to cut. “If only Brice would be as good of a father.”

“Oh wow. You guys are awesome.” Cheyenne felt close to these women after their shared night of passion. Maybe for people used to the BDSM scene, nights like that would be no biggie, but to her, it had been life-changing and these women had been an integral part of it. They mattered. Their support mattered.

“I get it, and I couldn’t agree more that he had to have been a terrible influence. My question is, why is Miguel here? That’s what’s got me worried. I don’t mean to be all over-dramatic and woe is me, but am I crazy to think him being here when we are is more than just a coincidence?”

“You don’t think he’s going to try and uphold his family’s legacy do you?” Riley’s eyes got huge in her pretty face as the worry that Cheyenne was feeling seemed to settle in her gut.

“I don’t know, but…” Terryn fished in her purse and came out with her cellphone. “I think we need to let Brice and Kent know just in case.”

“I hope to God we are overreacting.” Cheyenne pulled out her own cell and called Faulkner.

Overreaction or not, she knew she’d feel better once she talked the whole thing through with him.