TangledBound (12 page)

“I’m not taking you against another wall.” Breathing
raggedly against her neck, he adjusted his stance and slid his hand lower
between her legs. “Christ, you’re wet. Every time I touch you—”

He bit off the rest on a low curse and pressed, two long
fingers curling into her pussy, so deep a twinge of pain made her cry out. The
front of his pants soaked up the moisture between her labia and his grinding
motion started to hurt, the friction rough on her sensitive clit.

“Ow—Sam—”

“Come for me,” he muttered, so low she wouldn’t have heard
him if he weren’t speaking right against her ear. “Melly, come for me.”

“You’re hurting me,” she gasped, an edge of panic creeping
into her field of awareness. Panic because even though the rough scrape of his
zipper nudged her from pleasure into pain, she didn’t want him to stop.

“You want me.” He dragged his open mouth from her ear to her
lips, spoke between hungry, kissing bites.

“Yes.” Behind her tightly closed eyes, the club’s lights
sparkled in crazy patterns. Her pussy started to pulse all on its own, erratic
jumps that seemed to mimic the lights.

Sam stroked faster, encouraging the deep spasms. “This is
me. I want to hurt you, push you through pleasure and into pain until it’s all
pleasure again. You want me, you come for me. Hurting and all.”

“Sam,
please
.” She squeezed her eyes shut so hard her
temples started to ache. “Please—”

“You. Wanted. This.” He cut her off with hard words,
accusing words, and he bit her bottom lip with punishing force.

“Please—”

“Damn you for not leaving me alone—”

Desperate to be heard, she opened her eyes to meet his and
leaned forward to bite him back. “Please
more
! I need more.
Do
something.”

Sam froze for half a heartbeat before slanting his lips
across hers. He speared into her mouth and robbed her breath just as he pulled
his fingers from her pussy and shoved them into her ass instead.

Melanie shrieked into his mouth, responding to the sudden
pain and the equally unexpected release, which broke over her like a storm. She
shuddered violently in his arms, unable to breathe. The club’s lights danced
wildly in the black behind her skull, multicolored lightning in the dark. It
seemed to go on forever, so long she scratched at Sam’s neck in an urgent grab
for reality.

He scratched back, a smaller pain that helped ground her,
and forced her legs from his waist. When she stumbled, he held her up.

“Lock your knees, honey,” he instructed, speaking in her
ear. “Get the floor under your feet.”

Melanie shook. “Sam?”

His arms slid around her waist and he pulled her away from
the wall. “Right here. Let me see your pretty eyes.”

“I don’t want to.”

“The sooner you open up, the sooner you’ll have your balance
back.” He brushed a soft kiss across her temple. “Come on, Melly. Come back for
me.”

“I don’t want to,” she repeated. Opening her eyes would mean
letting go of their few minutes in the dark.

He sighed and ran his hands down her back, smoothing her
shirt into place. “The speakers on my laptop are dead, so the text-to-speech
software is useless. You’ll need to open your eyes so you can read the contract
and decide if you want to make any changes before we sign it.”

That got through her muddled emotions. Tilting her head
back, she blinked up at him. “You’re not pushing me out again.”

“No, I’m not.” He gave her a wry smile. “But some day you
might wish I had.”

Chapter Ten

They didn’t reach Sam’s office. Before they emerged from the
corridor, a member of his staff strode up to them.

Eric, one of Bondage’s VIP-level supervisors, conspicuously
avoided looking at Melanie. Soon the entire staff would know Sam had finally
broken his personal rule of keeping his affairs outside the club. Since he had
no reason to hide, he drew Melanie closer and asked, “What’s the problem,
Eric?”

The other man grimaced. “I know you’re not officially here,
but we might have a situation upstairs. Theresa left awhile ago and Donnie is
caught up in a big scene that’s been going on for at least an hour.”

Sam nodded, accepting the explanation. “It’s fine. Give me
details.”

Eric hesitated. He finally looked at Melanie, an apologetic
expression on his face, and said, “Jennifer Dane and her Master went up to a
room earlier tonight. Several guests came to me with suspicions that the scene
has become non-consensual.”

Hell. Nothing about this was going to go well. He looked
down at Melanie. “I have to deal with this. I’d like you to wait for me in my
office.”

“Who’s Jennifer Dane?” She asked exactly the question he
didn’t want to answer, with some strange element of feminine knowledge in her
eyes.

“A submissive I trained.” No way around the truth, except to
lie, and he wouldn’t do that.

Melanie paled. She started to pull her hand from his but he
tightened his grip and held her in place. Regretting that he didn’t have time
to talk to her about the jealousy and fear obvious in her eyes, he said, “I
have to go now, honey. My office—”

“I’d like to stay with you,” she interrupted. “Please.”

“If at any point I tell you to leave the room, you obey me
instantly and without question.”

“Yes Sir,” she said without hesitating.

Sam nodded and Eric led the way through the thick crowd
downstairs. Upstairs, they entered a wholly different environment. A few people
leaned against the rail of the balcony that overlooked the dance floor below.
Doors to private rooms lined the balcony, some open, some closed. Blue light
spilled from the open doors and outlined the closed doors.

Eric stopped at a closed room and opened the unlocked door.
The sound of leather cracking across flesh greeted them.

When Sam caught sight of the whip Jennifer’s Dom was using,
he released Melanie’s hand and pointed at a spot beside the door, outside the
room. “Wait there.”

He waited long enough for her to nod and then he entered the
room. The blue rooms were all appointed similarly—a bed, a cabinet filled with
assorted toys, a straight-backed chair. This one was no different but the
furniture had been put to use in a way Sam would have never sanctioned.
Jennifer, a tall brunette with short hair, hung from the ceiling by her wrists.
Her toes touched the bed’s mattress, but only barely, not enough for her legs
to bear her weight. The muscles of her arms stood out, straining with the
effort to keep her weight off her wrists, which were manacled to mounts drilled
into the ceiling. The straps of a ball gag bit into the back of her head,
preventing her from using her safeword.

Ugly red welts swelled across her back and the backs of her
legs. Her Master, a man Sam had never met before—not the Dom who’d hired Sam to
train Jennifer for slavery—drew his arm back in preparation of delivering
another lash of his whip. Fury spiked through Sam.

Before the Dom could land his next blow, Sam spoke loudly
and clearly over Jennifer’s pained whimpers. “Dragonfruit.”

The Dom faltered at the sound of Jennifer’s safeword. He
swung around to face Sam, shock crossing his features. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the man revoking your privileges in this club. Eric,
relieve him of that whip and his membership card and send someone up from the
bar with water and some clean rags.” Sam didn’t wait to watch. While Eric moved
forward, Sam climbed up onto the bed and, supporting Jennifer’s weight with an
arm around her ribs, used his master key to release the manacles holding her
upright. She sagged against him with a low cry of pain.

He lowered her to the bed on her stomach and pulled the gag
from her mouth. Panic vibrated in her rapid, shallow breath. Sam stroked her
hair, a gesture he’d employed during her training, a signal that she was safe.
For good measure, he said, “Easy, Jen, I’ve got you.”

Eric directed her silently fuming Dom from the room. As soon
as they’d left, Melanie peeked around the door frame. Pale-cheeked and
stricken, she looked from Jennifer to Sam. Stomach tight, Sam beckoned her to
him.

“I don’t…is she all right?” Hugging herself, Melanie edged
into the room.

“She’ll be okay.” Sam continued to pet the woman beside him
but Melanie had the bulk of his attention. “Come here, honey. It’s all right.”

As soon as he could reach her, Sam pulled Melanie between
his knees and drew her down to sit on his thigh. Before he could say anything,
Jennifer moved, bunching her knees beneath her body and turning her face toward
him.

“Sir?” Jen’s question came out ragged and hoarse.

Melanie flinched. Sam wasn’t sure whether the rough sound of
Jen’s voice got to her or whether she objected to Jennifer’s submissive
deference, but he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist to reassure her.

With his other hand, he tucked Jennifer’s hair behind her
ear. “What do you need, Jen?”

Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut so hard, the vein in her
temple throbbed. “He wouldn’t let me come. I need to come. Please, Sir.”

Sam braced himself for his body’s reaction to her plea, but
nothing happened. He blew out a breath and patted her head. “All right, Jen.
I’m going to take care of you and you’ll be just fine.”

In the circle of his embrace, Melanie stiffened. Jealousy
flashed across her face, quickly hidden. Wishing he had time to explain,
knowing he didn’t after what Jen had endured, he caught one of Melanie’s hands
and placed it over his fly. At her touch, his cock did stir, but one look at
Jen’s abused, needy state quelled the physical response.

“Don’t move your hand, honey.” He met her eyes, confirming
she understood the command as just that, before turning his attention to the
woman whimpering on the bed.

Acutely aware of Melanie’s misery in the situation, he moved
quickly. Sam took care to avoid the visibly marked areas of Jen’s body and
eased his fingers between her tense thighs. Jen’s time in his service had ended
more than two years ago, but her body still responded the way he remembered.
When he parted her folds, she moaned.

Melanie breathed a small, pained sound that wrenched at
something in his chest. To distract her while he thumbed Jen’s clit, he slanted
his mouth across hers in a claiming kiss. Melanie’s lips parted for him seconds
before Jen found release.

With Jen moaning her gratitude, he withdrew his fingers and
grasped Melanie’s knee. Her fingers flexed around his cock, which had begun to
harden in earnest the instant her tongue slid against his.

At the door, someone cleared her throat. Sam reluctantly
broke away from Melanie. Eric stood behind a female member of his staff, who
held a first-aid kit and loose, gender-neutral clothes over her arm.

He reached over and touched Jen’s shoulder. Deliberately
removing himself from the equation, he said, “Eric and Carmen are going to help
you get cleaned up and dressed, Jen. They’ll call whoever you want to come get
you, or an ambulance if you’d like to be seen by a doctor.”

Jen nodded her understanding and his employees entered the
room. Sam stood, taking Melanie with him.

To Eric, he said, “I’m not leaving but I’m unavailable until
closing time, at which point I expect everyone on shift tonight to report to
the bar. This incident shouldn’t have happened.”

Taking a silent Melanie’s arm, Sam exited the room. He
quickly located a clean, vacant room and drew Melanie into it. She turned to
him as he closed the door, a question furrowing her brow.

Sam grabbed the alcohol pad he’d stashed in his pocket
earlier in the night. After cleaning Jennifer’s scent from his fingers, he
started unbuttoning his shirt.

Her throat worked. “What are you doing?”

“Nine contracts,” he said, pulling the shirttails from his
pants. “Jennifer was one of them. A submissive who wanted to go further and
present herself as a slave to her master. I trained her. I didn’t fuck her. I
sure as hell didn’t make love to her.”

Melanie retreated, backing up until the backs of her legs
came in contact with the bed. Despite her actions, her gaze was fixed on his
bare chest. Sam shrugged free of the shirt and threw it at the straight-backed
chair beside the door.

“The other eight were similar circumstances, arrangements
made between me, other Doms and their subs. Obedience training, third-party
assistance with tricky scenes, a surrogate authority figure for a sub whose Dom
was stationed overseas for several months. Some of those, I did fuck.” He
unfastened his belt, released the button of his fly and advanced to take her
face between his hands. Holding her gaze, he said, “I didn’t make love to any
of them.”

Tears suddenly appeared, threatening to spill over onto her
cheeks. Sam froze. “Melly?”

“You said you want to h-hurt me.” She scrubbed frantically
at her eyes, which only served to set her tears loose. “I don’t want to be hurt
like Jen was. I don’t—I can’t—”

“Shhhh, stop.” He pulled her hands away from her face and
held them at her sides, fighting her straining efforts to escape him. Melanie’s
breath hitched on a sob and he swore. Releasing her hands, he wrapped his arms
around her and drew her up against his chest. Speaking against her ear, he
said, “Never. I will never do anything like that to you. I’ll never take away
your voice or your right to object and I’ll never push you past the point where
pleasure becomes real pain.”

She rubbed her face in his chest hair, shaking through every
word of his vow. He didn’t hear anything besides sniffles, though, so he angled
for a look at her red-rimmed eyes.

Melanie swiped at a fresh wave of tears. “I asked if it’s
always this way with you, and you said yes.”

“I said that months ago.” Sam rested his chin on top of her
head and tried to ignore the stab of pain that marked her slipping away from
him.

“I can’t…I don’t…” She stopped, a low cry of frustration on
her lips. “I want to be more than somebody who jumps when you say jump. I want
to be more than somebody you train to sit at your feet and eat carrots out of
your hand and beg for your touch and—”

Sam ended her gasping speech by plunging his tongue into her
mouth, so thoroughly telling her what
he
wanted that she had no need to
question him even if she could find the air to do so. Holding her hair with one
hand, he used the other to drag the hem of her sweater up over her breasts. He
locked his urgency up in the back of his mind and touched her with great care,
gently stroking her ribs and back until she started to soften.

Melanie started to kiss him back and some of his fear eased
off. He loosened his grip on her hair and broke contact long enough to pull her
sweater over her head. She wore a tiny, half-cup bra beneath, a scrap of cloth
and wire he didn’t bother removing. One tug exposed both soft mounds, the skin
pale from months without sun.

As he bent to roll one stiff peak into his mouth, she
tentatively touched his hair. Sam encouraged her with a wordless sound of
approval and her fingers smoothed across his shoulders. The light touch reached
him somewhere deep, reminding him of all the things he missed out on when his
partner’s only motions were motions he commanded.

With a groan, he sought out the zipper on her skirt. Melanie
leaned against him, her nipples stabbing against his chest, and shifted her
weight from one foot to the other as Sam divested her of her skirt and panties.
He had no patience for the stockings and lacy garter belt she wore around her
hips. After months of wanting her, remembering the few brief minutes he’d spent
buried in her pussy, he couldn’t be bothered with the rest.

Melanie drew a surprised breath when he lifted her and
spread her out on the bed, little heeled boots and all. She rose up on her elbows
but Sam came over her quickly, settling between her splayed legs.

“Months ago,” he repeated, holding her gaze. He reached
between them and freed his cock, which responded to her wet heat like a
divining rod. “Do you have any idea how much you changed me, months ago?”

She shook her head and looked down her body, fixing on the
length of his erection jutting from his pants. “I don’t…can we talk about this
later?”

“Completely.” He stretched across the bed to grab a condom
from a drawer full of them. “Completely changed. I never wanted somebody like
you.”

“Obnoxious and overly aggressive?” She helped him open the
package.

“Playful and endlessly optimistic.” Bowing his head, he ran
his tongue across her stomach, tasting her sweet warmth and making her muscles jump.
His cock strained in his hand as he unrolled the condom. Ignoring the insistent
ache that persisted from their earlier show in the hall downstairs, he moved
farther down her body and parted her slick folds with a kiss.

Whimpering, Melanie drew her knees up to frame his head. Sam
hooked his arms behind her thighs and lifted her to his mouth. Her hot, creamy
flavor hit him with the force of a fast-acting drug. His balls tightened as he
licked down to her entrance and dipped inside. Her pussy fluttered for him,
hidden muscles flexing to grasp at his tongue.

“Sam,” she moaned, arching against his face. “Can we do this
later? I’m dying for you to be inside me.”

“Sunny and honest,” he said, reluctantly leaving her taste
behind. “Curious and intelligent. Impulsive and maddeningly provocative.”