He swooped down and sucked one nipple into his hot mouth. Each tug seemed to shoot straight to my clit, and a slow-burn started in my pussy. So when he kicked my legs further apart, I didn’t complain. Just allowed myself to relish in the sensations.
I felt his fingers drawing the straps of my bra down my arms. Felt him jerk and pull on it until the bra dug into the skin of my wrists … and then I realized he’d used the straps to bind them behind my back. My eyes snapped open. “You—”
“Shh. Easy.” He raked his teeth over my nipple and gave it a sharp bite. “Don’t think. Don’t fight. Just feel what I do to you.” He tortured my nipples, alternating between licking, biting, and sucking, until they were red and throbbing with pleasure/pain. At the same time, his hands stroked, shaped, and clutched whatever he could reach … except for my pussy.
“You said you’d fuck the hell out of me,” I reminded him, voice shaky.
“And I will. I’m getting acquainted with my new acquisition first.” He left trails of suckling bites as he slowly crouched. “Well, what do we have here?”
Realizing he was getting a good look at the tattoos on my upper thighs, I flushed with embarrassment. The garters matched my French lace wrist cuffs. They also had a red thin ribbon and pearls dangling from them.
He danced his tongue over one garter. “Hmmm.”
“I was plastered.” Which was why it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
“Plastered?” His tongue traced the other garter. “I like them.”
Well, at least someone did.
“Are you wet, Kensey?” he asked, voice deep and dominant. “Let’s find out, shall we.” He untied the side bow on my panties and hummed as they fell away.
I bit my lip as his hands curved around my ankles and then snaked upwards until they came to rest on my upper thighs. “Blake—” I almost jerked as he slipped his thumb between my folds and rubbed my clit.
“I’m going to eat this pussy, Kensey.” He put one of my legs over his shoulder, giving him better access. “But you’re not going to come. Not until I say.”
He was such a bastard. I gasped as his tongue slid between my folds, skimming right over my clit. My thighs shook, and I struggled against the bra binding my wrists, needing my arms for balance. But I couldn’t get free, and I knew I’d have to either call a halt to what he was doing or trust him to hold me up. Without thinking too much about it, I stopped struggling and took a steadying breath.
“Good girl.”
My eyes fell shut as he devastated my pussy with his mouth, licking and nipping like it was a delicacy he was determined to savor. And when his clever tongue went to work on my clit, lashing and swirling around it, my pussy began to quake. I wasn’t going to last long if he kept that up.
“Blake.” It was a warning. He either didn’t hear me or wanted to push me to my limits, because he suckled on my clit. My thighs quivered, my knees shook … and his mouth disappeared. I almost sobbed. “Dammit, Blake!” Sharp teeth sank into my inner thigh. “Ow! What was that for?”
“I’m marking my property.”
Property? I would have snapped out a few insults if he hadn’t chosen that moment to stand and strip. Shit, he was a delicious sight. Broad shoulders, roped muscle, sculpted abs, and a cock that was longer and thicker than any I’d taken before. He also had a massive fading bruise on his left side that made me inwardly wince.
With a growl, he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me to him. “Do you know how good you taste?” He kissed me, tongue sweeping into my mouth to stroke mine. I gripped his nape as I kissed him back for all I was worth and—
I blinked as I was whirled around and bent over the bed; my cheek to the mattress, wrists still bound behind me. Two fingers shoved inside me, and I groaned.
“Fuck, baby, you’re soaking.” He slowly pumped his fingers while he cupped and squeezed my ass with his other hand. I threw my hips back to counter his thrusts, which earned me a light spank. “Such a beautiful ass,” said Blake. One fingertip whispered over the bud there. “Have you ever taken a cock up here?”
I swallowed. “Only fingers.”
“Were they Cade’s fingers?”
I grimaced. “I really don’t want to talk about other guys right now.”
Blake dug his fingers warningly into my hip. “Were they his?”
I hissed at the bite of pain. “Yes.”
“But you didn’t let him fuck your ass?”
“No.”
“You’ll let me.” His fingers pumped harder and faster, as if to punctuate his words. God, I needed to come so damn badly, it wasn’t even funny. The tension built low in my stomach, and my pussy started to quake yet again. And then he stopped.
Shockingly close to tears, I banged my head on the mattress. “You’re a goddamn prick, Mercier!” I heard the crinkle of a wrapper, wondered where he’d gotten the condom, but didn’t fucking care. All I wanted was to kick him in the dick.
I tried to rear up, but he planted a hand on my nape and held me there. Still, I fought. Squirmed and writhed and cursed. But with my wrists bound and his lower body pinning mine against the bed, I couldn’t get up.
Panting, I stilled—pissed, horny, and resigned. The hand holding my nape massaged the muscles there, rewarding me. When I finally went lax, he eased his body over mine, giving me his weight, trapping me.
Fisting my hair, Blake jerked my head aside and then growled low in my ear. “How bad do you want me to fuck you?”
I snarled. “Bad enough that I’ll poke you in the fucking eye if you don’t.”
I felt his mouth curve against my neck. “You’ll find that hard to do right now.”
My breath caught as I felt the head of his cock lodge in my pussy, stretching me open. Jesus, he was thick. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Like he was waiting for something. “What do you want?” I asked.
“Tell me who owns you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. It was stupid that I struggled with saying it aloud, given that I’d already accepted I’d be his whenever we were at the club. A part of me even liked the possessiveness. Still, it was hard to crush my instinct to defy him.
“Kensey. I know it galls you to cede control. I know you feel that you have to cling to it. But you don’t. Not here. Not with me. Here, none of the things that drive you to cling to it matter. Here, you exist only so I can fuck you.” He raked his teeth hard over the back of my shoulder. “Now, who owns you?”
“You.”
He slowly fed me an inch of his cock, stretching me even more. “If someone in this club approaches you, who will you tell them owns you?”
“You.”
He fed me another inch, and I swear I thought I’d burst from the pressure of his size filling me. “What exactly will you say, Kensey?”
I licked my dry lips. “Blake owns me.”
Rumbling a growl of approval, he smoothly thrust deep. “That’s it, take my cock.” He swore as my inner walls clamped down tight on him, greedy and possessive. Sucking at my neck, he flexed his cock. “This pussy is mine now, Kensey. No one else gets near it. Understood?” Teeth grazed my shoulder again, warning me not to argue.
“Yes,” I relented. And then he was ruthlessly hammering in and out of me. His growls and grunts mixed with my raspy moans and the sound of flesh smacking flesh. His fingers dug into my ass cheeks hard enough to bruise, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was more. My orgasm was so freaking close now, yet it was also just out of reach. I swear I could almost taste it. “Harder.”
Instead, Blake slowed his pace. “Why should I let you come? It’ll need to be a good reason.”
Too far gone to care he was being a bastard yet again, I mentally scrambled to come up with something. “I trusted you to hold me up.”
“Hmm, you’re right, you did.” He freed my wrists and threw my bra aside. “Trusting me does deserve a reward.” He pulled out, flipped me over, and tossed me further up the bed. “Spread your legs wide, Kensey. Now.” As I di
d, he knelt between my thighs, hooked my legs over his shoulders, and then slammed home.
My back bowed, and I grabbed at his hair, needing an anchor. Then he was pressing me into the mattress and fucking me again. Every thrust was hard, feral, and deep—God, so deep that it was a blissful agony.
Blake parted my slick folds, exposing my clit to every slam of his cock. “Come.”
That was all it took. White-hot pleasure flooded me, arching my spine, and I shattered with a silent scream. My pussy clenched around the cock that was swelling and pulsing. Grunting into my neck, Blake rammed harder once, twice, and then surged deep as he exploded.
Dazed and shaking with aftershocks, I almost groaned as Blake slipped out of me moments later with a soft kiss. Intent on enjoying the view, I watched as he strolled into the bathroom—no doubt to dispose of the condom—and winced at the sight of yet another whopper of a bruise; this one was on his lower back, near his waistline. It was fading, but it was still big.
“What’s with the bruises?” I asked, voice a little slurry, as I rolled onto my side.
He didn’t answer until he climbed onto the bed. “I do Krav Maga and martial arts with my PT. He doesn’t hold back.” He began to trace and stroke my arms, shoulders, breasts, and stomach with his fingers. His eyes followed the path of his hand, as if … marveling over something.
“I love your skin,” he said. “Soft. Smooth. Flawless.” He kissed the corner of my mouth, and licked his way from my scar all the way to the other corner of my mouth. “You okay?”
“A little sore, but otherwise fine.”
His eyes gleamed. “I like that you’re sore.” He lightly danced his fingers over my swollen folds. “Your skin is even softer here.” His gaze flashed with something I couldn’t quite name, and then his expression turned serious.
My brow furrowed. “What?”
Still stroking my folds, he said, “If Cade turns up at your place again in the middle of the night, you send him away.”
I blinked, silent for a moment. “I’m sorry?”
“I don’t want him spending the night in your apartment, whether he’s on the sofa or not.”
“But he—”
“If I told you that my friend—a friend I used to fuck—sometimes turns up at my place in the middle of the night and stays over, would you be okay with it?”
My stomach churned at the idea, which was a little disturbing. “Well, no.”
Blake’s eyes softened just a little, but his face remained hard, telling me he wouldn’t budge on this. Hand cupping my pussy possessively, he said, “If Cade turns up at your apartment, you call him a cab or drive him home. Okay?”
I sighed. “Okay.”
Eyes now languid with satisfaction, he brushed his mouth over mine. “Good girl.”
“I’m not, you know.”
“What?”
“A good girl.”
His lips quirked just a little. “You are for me.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Yo, Kensey!”
Pausing in repositioning the helmets on the shelf, I arched a brow at Henry, knowing what was coming.
“Yo mama’s so fat, the only way to get her out of a telephone booth is to grease her thighs and throw a Twinkie in the street!”
Laughter rang throughout the bar, and I rolled my eyes. “Yo mama jokes are old and overused, Henry—just like yo mama!”
He put a hand to his chest. “Ho, ho, ho—a shot across the bow.”
I shook my head, smiling. But that smile morphed into a frown when Sarah’s hand abruptly snapped around my upper arm and she marched me forward.
“Mom, we’re taking our break now,” she declared.
Standing at the bar, Sherry frowned at us. “All right.”
Sarah didn’t speak again until she’d hauled me into the breakroom and closed the door. “I want to know what happened with Blake on Saturday. Come on, you were supposed to call me yesterday to fill me in. Then you promised me this morning that you’d tell me when we went on our break, and I can’t take the suspense anymore. Spill, woman, spill.”
Retrieving my cell out of the locker out of habit, I settled at the table. Once she took the seat opposite mine, I told her about the events that unfolded on Saturday just as I checked my emails. None were from Smith. It was a relief, since I didn’t want to hear from him. But it was also irritating, because I wanted him to hurry and reach the end of whatever game he was playing—the longer he drew this shit out, the more time he’d steal from my life.
As I finished my tale about the basement, Sarah’s mouth fell open. “God, Kensey, you have to get me into this club.”
“What?”
“Come on, just once. Please.”
“Aside from Blake, I think most of the guys there are into the BDSM lifestyle.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
I folded my arms, staring at her in surprise. I’d expected her to tease me, laugh, and be full of questions. I hadn’t expected this. “I didn’t think you were into BDSM.”
She shrugged. “I’m curious about it. There’s a BDSM club near the biker compound, but I’m scared to go in there. I wouldn’t have a clue how to behave, and I don’t know if they’d be okay with me going inside just to get a feel for what it’s like. The basement of the Vault sounds perfect for me. It’s somewhere safe and fun, where I can talk to people who are part of that lifestyle and find out if that kind of thing is really for me.”
Still surprised, I shook my head. “I can’t believe you never mentioned it before. You’re not exactly a private person.”
“It’s not like I’m a regular sub or anything. I’m just interested, but I don’t yet know how I feel about it all.” Propping her elbow on the table, Sarah rested her chin on her hand. “When are you next seeing Blake?”
“He said he’d call me this weekend.” And I was very much looking forward to a repeat of Saturday night. There was no denying that the guy was damn good in bed, even if he could be a demanding bastard at times.
“Good,” said Sarah. “You can ask him then if it would be all right for me to go there some time.”
I sighed. “I’m not sure if he’ll allow it. It’s a ‘members only’ thing.”
“The whole club is members only. He said we could go back to the Clubhouse,” she pointed out. “That’s members only too.”
“And he might think that’s enough of a favor to you. Besides, the two places are vastly different.”
“Just say you’ll ask him. Please.”
I raised my hands. “I’ll ask him.”
“And please say you took photos of the dome. I’d at least like a glimpse of what it looks like.” She snatched my phone, presumably to check my picture album. “A shot of Blake naked would be even better.”
I chuckled. “Oh yeah, that’s how I spent my night—snapping photos.”
Her thumb paused on the screen, and her brows drew together. “Huh.”
“What?”
She shrugged. “I’m just thinking it’s odd that you took a photo of a cup of coffee on your table. But then, you’ve never been normal.”
I frowned. “Let me see.” I looked at the picture, and my skin prickled. “I didn’t take this.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.” I checked the date that the photo was taken. Friday. “Maybe it was Cade. He turned up at my apartment Friday night.” But I’d had my phone with me at the Clubhouse, hadn’t I? I couldn’t be sure.
“No, you can see the sun shining through the window. This was taken in the daytime.”
She was right. And then I remembered … “I accidentally left my phone at home while I was at work on Friday.”
“You certain?”
“Yeah. I remember because I’d wanted to jot down some ideas on my notepad app, so I’d been pissed with myself for leaving my phone at home. I definitely didn’t have it with me at work that day.” And that left only one explanation as to how the photo came to exist—an explanation that made my insides
seize up and an ice-cold finger flutter down my spine. “Someone broke into my apartment, Sarah,” I said, amazed and chilled. “Someone broke into my apartment, made themselves a fucking cup of coffee, took a picture to prove it, and then left.”
Sarah paled. “It still might have been Cade. He has a key to your place, and he’s weird enough to do something stupid like that, not thinking it would scare you—he doesn’t know about Smith.”
There was one way to know for sure. I strode out of the breakroom and, ignoring Sherry’s questioning look, stalked out of the bar. I found Cade inside CCC, singing along with the radio while working on a badass bike. I showed him my phone. “Cade, did you take this photo?”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Did you take this?”
He looked at it, and his frown deepened. “No. Why would I snap a picture of a cup of coffee? Why would anyone?”
I exchanged a worried look with Sarah, who was stroking Bandit.
Cade smoothly got to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
I wiped all emotion from my face. “Nothing. Nice bike. Whose is it?”
As easily distracted as a cat, Cade jabbered on about the bike and its famous owner. I nodded along, smiling, but my mind was on that damn picture … and on what that picture indicated. Smith had been in my goddamn home. My. Home.
Back inside the bar, Sarah pulled me into an empty corner and whispered, “It has to have been Smith. Ricky. Whatever you want to call him.”
I nodded. “He wanted me to know he’s been in my apartment. Wanted to show me how clever he is. God, Sarah, the bastard was in my fucking home.” I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.
Sarah rubbed her upper arm. “Do you think he might have broken in before?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if he has.” The fucker. “Cade said that he closed and locked the door after coming into my apartment Friday night, but the door was open when I got there.”
Sarah’s face hardened. “I’ll bet Ricky wasn’t expecting to see Cade there. He either broke in because he knew you were out or because he thought you were asleep—I don’t like either of those possibilities.”