Bonds of Courage (12 page)

“Yes, Mistress,” he croaked. He repositioned his feet and closed his eyes, breathing deep.

Her touch flittered across his shoulder then down his spine to cup each burning cheek. The sting that simmered over the surface pushed deeper with her squeeze.
So sweet.

It was a moment before he realized she’d let go. He exhaled, trying to relax. The hit landed across both cheeks this time, square in the middle, nailing the previous spots precisely. He howled, unable to stop the reaction as the pain shot deep. His ass was on fire, burning through layers of muscle to scorch his balls and dick. He couldn’t process the how of it, but it was fucking amazing.

He gasped for air, his mind tumbling in the chaos of sensation. Lost in his head, the next smack cracked deep over skin that was already blistering. His cry pierced the room, and he scrambled to hold his position.

“So gorgeous.”

Her purring adoration stroked over his mind like her hand on his flaming skin. His blood throbbed in time with his heartbeat that pumped in his dick, through his balls and into his ass. Everything was connected down there in a completely new way. The roar in his ears drowned out everything but her voice.

Another blow broke the haze he floundered in. The impact blended with the existing pain almost as if it was absorbed into the spreading numbness that encompassed his entire lower half.

“So strong.”

Throaty words that seemed to be spoken directly into his mind.
For you
, he wanted to cry, but nothing came out of his gaping mouth.

The last four strikes blended together in a sea of sharp agony, countered by extraordinary bliss. His cock had never been so hard, his balls so full. He floated in the sensory overload, a fog so thick his only anchor was her.

The press of her finger teasing his hole ripped him from his daze. The surprising flash of desire threatened to collapse his legs
.
He locked his knees and rode the wave that was now a combustible ocean of need.

Yet he waited. His match was a single command from her that he needed more than his release.

Gentle hands eased him forward. “Lie down, Holden.”

The bed was soft beneath him, the sheet silky smooth against his burning ass when she urged him to roll over. His hands were stretched over his head, wrists cuffed once again. He moaned his approval. The solid weight on his skin was another trigger that allowed him to float in the nothingness that was his world right now.

She gripped his cock to roll a condom down it, and his hips arched off the mattress, his eyes flying open. She was over him, her gorgeous mane flowing around her face as she studied him. A smile stretched over her mouth before her tongue snaked out to wet her red lips.

“You’ve done great, my sub.”

Her praise shot through him, constricting his heart before it exploded with pride that flushed him with another layer of warmth.
Focus
. “For you, Mistress.”

Her inhale was sharp. Her eyes were wide and dark as her hair. Her chest heaved, breasts rounding over the edge of the corset. A vision of dominance poised over him.

Yes.
Another shudder swept through him. The chains on his cuffs clanked against the metal bed rails to break the silence that had captured them.

She straddled him, fully clothed down to the pointy tips of her metal heels that reflected the light. His complete focus was on her. Nothing but her.

The slow descent of her heat around him was the single most amazing thing he’d ever experienced. There was nothing but the wetness, the sucking clench, the blazing heat.

Her skirt hid everything, so all he had was the feeling and emotions she allowed to show. Mouth parted in a silent cry, her eyes were half-closed in a sultry expression set off by the flush of her skin. Amazing.

She rolled her hips, rising on him only to lower a moment later. It was splendid torture and sweet ecstasy all in one. The urge to buck into her, to take what he desperately ached to have, was held at bay by his overriding need to give her what she desired.

Her speed increased at a turtle’s pace, each descent a test of endurance. The slight rub of his tender ass on the mattress was a reminder of her power over him and only added to the pleasure.

His eyes rolled up, but he forced them immediately back to her, determined to catch every expression that crossed her face. Their sole point of contact was their groins. The intensity multiplied by the focus.

She gripped her thighs below flashes of garter and skin, and he ached to touch her everywhere. To treasure and cherish her flesh as he did the gift she was giving him.

His grunts soon blended with her soft cries. She opened her eyes and held his gaze from above. Heat poured through him. His balls were drawn up full and so goddamn hard he wanted to scream. But he held it in, pooled it with the pain that radiated from his ass and the pleasure that sang down his dick.

His vision tunneled down to her riding him, controlling each plunge, every move, the angle, the pace. It was all up to her.

The mixed scent of their arousal reached him on every inhale. Musky and hot, dark with the promise of what was to come. Soon or never or whenever she wanted. It danced with the wet slide of skin and sex.

She reached beneath her skirt, the sharp edge of her nail nicking the oversensitive shaft of his dick. The small little clips hit like spikes peppered at random as she rubbed her clit. His whimper was pathetically weak, but it was the only sound he could get out. She bit her lip, her hips continuing to rise and fall with that lazy pace that kept his release just out of reach.

There was no way he could stop the small roll of his hips timed with her descent. It was physically impossible to resist his body as it followed its most primal instinct.

Pain, pleasure, frustration, desire, need, want all collided in a storm so intense it sucked the strength from his very core.

“Come, Holden.”

The command shot through his senses and ignited his world. Blackness encroached, his muscles petrified and every nerve ending sizzled for the most powerful second of his life before it all exploded.

Shattered him beyond thought.

His release sucked every damn thing from him until he was a mass of floating nothing. But her cries called to him and he found her through the haze. Her open-mouthed pleasure engraved into his mind before he jerked with an aftershock stronger than most of his releases.

Fucking...

The possibility of staying focused was yanked from him by a force far stronger than his determination. So he let go. Gave everything to her and went with the undertow that pulled him into the bliss of pure nothingness.

Chapter Twelve

Vanessa heaved a jagged sigh and sucked in another gulp of air that expelled in a gush. Her pulse raced, her thighs ached and her body sang. The hum of fulfillment flushed every inch of her as she struggled to find her breath.

Holden lay beneath her. He was a zoned-out vision of absolute submission. The cuffs over his head were black against his wrists, solid statements of his position. His head rested against his raised arm and his eyes were hidden behind his lids, lost in the subspace he’d craved.

His damp hair was matted and limp. Small strands clung to his forehead, and she brushed them away once again, heedless of the wetness on her fingertips. The steady rise and fall of his chest was slowing and she savored the way the light defined every dip and curve on his glistening skin.

But it was his mouth that held her captive. His lips were a deep red and slightly swollen from where he’d bitten them. Parted just a bit, they beckoned her.

God, he was so dangerous.

And so gorgeous. There. All hers.

Wetting her lips, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. Just a touch that had her eyes closing against the rush of longing that threatened to crumble her.

That couldn’t happen.

A shaky sigh exited before she lifted off him and left the bed. Her legs were shaky, her steps stilted as she moved to the headboard to release his cuffs. He groaned then. A small protest or murmur of relief, she didn’t know, but it kicked at her chest either way.

She lowered his arms to his sides then focused on the cleanup. The condom was disposed of in the trash and clean white towels took care of everything else. His lids fluttered when she lowered the duvet over his chest, but they didn’t open. A quick check of his pulse showed a steady beat that counted in the normal range.

Only then did she back into the far corner and lower herself to the floor. The tile was cold on her bare bottom, the wall hard where it pressed in her shoulder blades. Both were solid reminders of the world that existed on the other side of the door.

A shiver passed through her, the sweat cooling on her neck. She hugged her legs tighter, but warmth evaded her. The scent of the two of them reached her nose, her deep inhale pulling it completely within her, where she held it until she was forced to let it go.

Like him.

It wouldn’t work. He’d shattered the distance, and now she had nothing to protect herself with. Nothing to keep him defined within this space.

Why had she ignored her better judgment? Arrogance? Curiosity? A self-imposed test? Well, she’d failed.

She’d had intercourse with him. Had given herself while she’d taken. He had no idea what it meant. No idea that she never had penetrative sex with her clients. Orgasms, yes. Many had serviced her, but few were allowed in her.

And it’d been so good. Better than...

She shook her head, shoving the thought back out. This was her space. Those other men who’d stolen her choice and trust didn’t get to ruin it. The truth that they already had wasn’t lost on her. Time dulled the memory. Counseling eased the pain. But nothing overrode the emotional triggers that left her cold and shaking.

Nothing until Holden. For a while, her past had remained where it belonged. She’d felt Holden and let everything go except him. She’d been in the moment and not the past.

Another shiver raked her, and still she sat there. The dim light masked his sleeping form in a halo of outlines and shadows that softened his features. Time ticked by in a silent passing marked only by blinks and the tingling numbness that invaded her bottom.

Yet she waited until he finally shifted. A small groan escaped his lips as he turned to his side, and she bolted up. Sharp stabs impaled her sleeping lower half, but she lifted her chin and lowered her shoulders, preparing.

The knot in her stomach had turned into an icy ball that chilled everything. She was at the side of the bed when his lids fluttered open. A lazy smile formed on his mouth when he focused on her.

“Hey.” His voice was raw and gruff.

She grabbed the bottle of water from the small side table and gave it to him. “How do you feel?” Her voice was the opposite of his. Smooth and controlled, the presentation falling into place from years of practice.

He shifted onto an elbow to take a drink before answering. “Like a puppet that lost its strings.”

His answer warmed her, and she longed to brush that lock of hair off his brow, to kiss his red lips and crawl beneath the covers to find the heat of his skin.

She handed him the tube of cream she’d placed by the water. “Rub this into your bottom. It’ll lessen the bruising. It shouldn’t be bad, but there will most likely be some.” The ache in her throat threatened to destroy her composure. But she swallowed past it. “You can stay here for as long as you need. Be careful when you stand, and drink plenty of water. You can show yourself out when you’re ready.” She spun away, her heels clicking her departure in a steady cadence that rang hollow in the room.

“Wait.”

She ignored him until she was at the door, gripping the handle too tightly. Her job was done. Her duty as his Mistress was complete. The open confusion that marred his brow when she turned around stole the contentment from his face and blared her failure. He wanted more from her, expected more after the intensity of their Scene, but she couldn’t give it to him.

His mouth worked. A flash of anger passed before his head sagged, the defeat worse than any words he could’ve said. After a moment he looked to her, his expression blank. “Thank you, Mistress.”

The words contained the lilt of respect she expected as a Mistress. But in that instance, the complete lack of scorn in his tone scuffed over her raw heart to expose her lies to herself.

The silent standoff held for only a moment before she tipped her head and left.

* * *

Son of a bitch
. Holden flopped back on the bed. His hiss was instantaneous as the throb of pain pulsed through his entire backside in a fuck-awesome reminder of what Vanessa had given to him.

The pleasure, the pain, the dominance that’d wrung him dry and left him flying.

Her cordial demeanor just now was precisely as it’d been in almost all of their meetings. But it was wrong here. Off in a way that had him blurting another curse at the ceiling. Not that it helped.

He scrubbed his face, the action rough, but it brought no answers. The warm buzz he’d woken with faded away as he lay there.

What the hell?

Was this it? A one-time deal never to be repeated? Or was this her way? Without a contract, he didn’t know if or when they’d play again.

Damn it.

She frustrated him to no end, but he still wanted her. This. Everything she’d given him that night.

He supposed a docile submissive would get dressed and leave as fast as he could. But he wasn’t docile. Never had been. A passive attitude didn’t get him into the NHL. Tonight had confirmed he loved submitting to her. She’d fucking owned him when she’d been paddling his ass.

A small squirm was all it took to send the dull thud in his ass into a blazing sting. Perfect. Add the vision of her riding him, and his dick was twitching for a replay. Maybe it was his dry spell that’d made it so spectacular.
Not.
He rejected that thought before it was fully formed. He’d skipped sex before during his years of playing and he’d never passed out after coming when he’d gotten laid again.

Hell, vanilla sex had never taken him to the place Vanessa had opened for him.

Never.

He rolled out of bed and took a guess at where the bathroom was. He found the magic door on his first try, which wasn’t hard, given it was the only door in the room besides the exit.

The hot shower helped to quell the tremble that plagued his legs. He stood there for a long time, letting the heat do its job. The pebbly beads of water massaged the twinge in his shoulder and pulsed over his neck. He was in shape, but his arms weren’t used to being stretched over his head for that long.

But it all felt good. Every ache was a reminder of what he’d given to Vanessa. Of how she’d so completely mastered him.

He followed her directions and rubbed the cream over his sore backside after he dried off. A thorough inspection in the mirror before his shower had shown the blurred outline of a rectangle across the center of his ass. A part of him didn’t want it to go away. But the thought of the ribbing he’d take if anyone saw a huge bruise in the shape of a paddle across his ass was enough to have him applying a second coat of the cream.

He snorted and shook his head. He was pretty certain none of his teammates would understand this need of his.

The loose cargo pants scratched over his sensitive skin when he slipped them on. The damn jockstrap provided zero protection for his exposed cheeks.
You have so much to learn
,
grasshopper.
He chuckled at his errant thought, slipped his shirt and sandals on and headed out of the room. His gait faltered for a second at the absence of the chastity device. Had he become used to it after just a day? Not really, yet he felt oddly bare now that it was gone.

He hadn’t expected to see her as he came upstairs and he wasn’t surprised when the house echoed in empty silence. Instead of turning left toward the front door, he headed for the kitchen. The house was dark, the sun having set a while ago, based on the time on the microwave.

The shakes had left, but the residual lethargy remained. He’d forgotten to snag another bottle of water downstairs, so he took a quick look in her fridge for one. The bright light showed an array of sodas, yogurt, vegetables, chocolate—he paused at that. Six different brands and types of chocolate bars were stacked in a neat pile on the middle shelf next to the milk.

Temptation or guilty pleasure?

He smiled and grabbed a water bottle. The stool at the island bar squeaked in protest when he sat down to drink his water in the dark. He was playing a risky game, but no victory was ever achieved by being cautious. Well, none that he’d ever won.

Balls out and full checks, that was what he knew, but he was also smart enough to adjust his play to match the tactics of his opponent. Brute force only got a player so far if he didn’t play with his head too.

He pulled his phone out and was debating on what to text when the soft tread of footsteps reached him. He turned his phone off, and the room sank back into darkness.

The usual click of heels was oddly absent, replaced by the almost-silent fall of feet. He resisted the urge to turn around as she entered the kitchen. The hairs on the back of his neck danced with the knowledge of her presence.

A beer would’ve been fantastic right then. It might’ve strengthened the bravado that had fled when she’d entered the room. But all he had was water and the confidence that this was the right move.

“The door is down the hall.” Her crisp voice was the same as before, the Ice Queen persona firmly in place. And it was bullshit. He’d seen the fire she contained and it still fucking burned him.

“Yup. It is.”

Her sigh hung in the air. He was getting good at her waiting game. He assumed most people cracked and started to babble to fill the void, but he’d never been a big talker.

“The Scene is done. Please leave.”

The water was cool as it flowed down his throat. He set the empty bottle on the marble then clasped his hands, going still. “But we’re not done.”

There was another long pause. The house creaked and the soft tick of a clock counted out beats from somewhere. Headlights glowed against the trees outside as a car passed on the street. And he didn’t move.

“I take it you want to talk about something?”

He smirked at the try for boredom in her voice. Or was it impatience? He turned around then, the chair giving another whine of complaint as the seat swiveled.

She leaned against the wall, arms crossed in a defensive hold over her chest. Gone was the sexy Domme outfit from the playroom. In its place were simple black yoga pants that ended in a flare at her knees and a red tank. One foot was propped on the wall behind her, both feet enticingly empty of the heels that seemed to define her.

This wasn’t the businesswoman or the Domme. This was simply Vanessa, the woman. The extraordinary woman who held the world at bay. Part of her shield was missing, and he prepared himself for the volley of biting words that might be used to accommodate for the weakness.

Not that he saw her as weak. He could never see her as that.

Her lips were pulled thin and her brows were lowered, ready for battle. He cracked a small smile. He’d seen that look before. She was trying for hard mixed with casual, but there was a vulnerable vibe coming from her that he’d never picked up on before. One he wanted to ease.

His mouth went dry despite the water he’d consumed. Somehow he’d earned another level of her trust. It was the only explanation for why she would allow him to see this private, unguarded side of her. The understanding was another twist that wound him closer to her and he made a silent vow to prove to her that her trust wasn’t misplaced.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, sincerity lacing his tone with the truth. “It was everything I’d hoped for and more.”

She glanced down, a quick duck of her head before tucking her hair behind her ear and looking up. The lack of light didn’t stop him from catching the brief smile before she wiped it clear. “Good.” The crisp word was accompanied with a sharp nod. “Did any of it not work for you?”

He withheld his smile at the implication that there’d be another Scene. Why would she ask if she didn’t want more? He thought about it carefully, going through each part of the Scene and analyzing his reactions. She didn’t push him, and he finally gave a small nod. “Yeah. There was one thing.”

“Okay. What?”

“The ending.”

She shoved away from the wall, her arms falling to her sides. “What part?” A frown marred her brow and the concern in her voice warmed the cold spot that had settled within him since she’d left the playroom.

He stood then, careful to keep his distance. Without her heels, she was over a head shorter than him. Intimidating her with his size wasn’t his intention. He pitched his voice low, quiet to match his emotions. “The part where you walked out.”