Break Me Down (14 page)

Gibson had stared at the clock on his bedside table until it’d clicked over to midnight. It’d been a week since he’d sent the letter to Sam. All he’d gotten from her was a text.
You’ve given me a lot to think about.
He hadn’t heard a word since.

He’d been on edge all week, wondering if she’d show up at any second, wondering if she was around the next corner. Somehow that had been equal parts terrifying and painfully arousing. He’d gone out to dinner with Pike one night, and he’d barely been able to hold a conversation because he’d been wondering,
Is tonight the night?
Was Pike there to help Sam take him down?

Pike, of course, had pretended he was completely oblivious to Gibson’s jumpiness, but had given him a wry smile every now and then like he was up to something. Fucking Pike. He’d never tease Gibson about being submissive. The guy had figured him out a long time ago anyway. But he sure wasn’t above messing with Gibson’s head.

But nothing had happened that night. And nothing had happened since. The schedule he’d given Sam had ended tonight. Time was up. Week expired. She’d changed her mind. Maybe he’d been asking too much. Maybe she wanted a guy who wouldn’t need to be forced into it. Or maybe she didn’t think he could handle it.

Frankly, he still wasn’t sure he
could
handle it. Force could be a turn-on for him in theory, but that wasn’t what this was about. He knew he needed that element to have a shot at this. He wished he were in a mental place where he could walk into the common room at the Ranch with Sam’s collar around his neck, proud as you please. He wanted it down to his marrow. But when he thought about actually taking the steps to do it, the anxiety gripped him like cold, knotted fingers squeezing his heart. Like when he was a kid and tried to jump off the high board at the community pool. He wanted it. Could picture it. Could see himself plummeting through the air. But every time he got up there, he couldn’t take that last step and leap.

Finally, in an asshole-big-brother moment, Kade had shoved him off. Gibson had screamed loud enough to draw the attention of everyone by the pool, including a girl he’d had a crush on, and had hit the water with the grace of a rhinoceros.

He’d refused to speak to his brother for a week afterward.

But he’d never been afraid of the high board again. Two years later, he’d joined the high school diving team and had been a top diver.

As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to be pushed again. That was the only way to slip through a crack in that mental block that had thwarted him for so long.

But Sam wasn’t going to do it. He’d fucked things up. He’d missed his chance.

With a groan he rolled over in bed, scooted Sasha’s big, furry self over, and tugged the blanket over himself. He hadn’t gotten sleep in a week, but his body was succumbing to the exhaustion now. He couldn’t think about this anymore. He needed to let go, to move on, to accept.

Right. Who was he kidding? That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. So he did the only thing he knew to do to
make the thoughts quiet: he played Mario Brothers in his head like that kid he used to be, watched the little mushrooms get crushed, and fell into a deep, dream-filled sleep.

Which meant a few hours later, he didn’t hear the lock on his kitchen door turn or the hushed voices soothing Sasha or the footsteps that surrounded his bed. He didn’t hear anything at all. Not until six whispered words brushed against his ear. “Hello, there, gorgeous. Time to play.”

Gibson’s eyes flew open at the familiar feminine voice, the sound of Sam mixing in with the dream he was having. He blinked in the dark, disoriented. Unsure whether he was still in the dream or not. But the blinking didn’t help. Blackness enveloped him. Something was over his eyes. “Sam?”

Fingers pressed hard against his lips. “Shh. Alert a neighbor and you’ll pay for it.”

Sam’s voice held threat despite her conversational tone. He tried to reach out for her, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. Metal jangled. He was cuffed. His heartbeat picked up speed.
Oh, shit.
It was happening.

Anxiety surged, all systems going on alert. “Sam . . . wait.”

“Get him up.” Some cool edge he’d never heard from Sam had entered her voice. “He’s a risk here with the neighbors so close.”

Rough hands grabbed him. Big hands. “You heard the lady. Time to go.”

Pike.

Which meant Foster was the other guy grabbing him.

Oh, fuck.

They didn’t give him a chance to do anything but cooperate, his hands bound and his legs still half-asleep. They hauled him out of bed, the world feeling like it flipped over in his head at the sudden movement. His bare feet hit the floor. The instinct to fight back welled in him. These were his friends. He’d agreed to this, but he knew what this meant—reality was setting in. Fight or flight beat through him.

When the guys tried to make him walk, he jerked out their grip. “Get your hands off me. Let me talk to Sam.”

The guys didn’t grab him again, but a quick slap hit his face. “I didn’t say you could talk. And you certainly can’t speak to my guys like that.”

The slap wasn’t hard, but it stunned him because he hadn’t seen it coming. And his two best friends had just witnessed him getting hit by a girl. His face burned and it had nothing to do with the slap. What had he been thinking when he agreed to this?

There was some rustling around, but he couldn’t pinpoint who was moving where.

“And you’re not going to need these where we’re going.” Sam grabbed the waistband of his pajama pants and yanked down.

“Sam, wait, no.” He tried to reach for her, stop her. He wasn’t wearing anything beneath. But she knocked away his bound hands and dragged his pants down.

Cool air hit him and embarrassment burned up his spine. He put his cuffed hands in front of himself. It’s wasn’t like he and his friends had a high level of modesty. Pike and Foster used to share women, so they had seen each other naked. And Gibson had watched Foster scene before at the Ranch. But never had he been exposed in front of them.

“Mistress, please.”

“Begging. Better.” She grabbed the chain between his cuffs and lifted. “Move your hands. No hiding.”

He squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold. And jolted when she cupped his balls, as if measuring if he was enough for her. She gave them a little tug, which made his cock take notice. Blood rushed downward.

“Yep, this’ll do just fine.” She released him, leaving him there naked with a growing erection. In front of his friends. “Now turn around and bend over so I can see what else you have to offer.”

“Red.” The word tumbled out, landed hard between them before he even knew it had passed his lips.

There was a long pause. His heart beat wildly in his throat as he waited for her to end this. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do this. He was failing her. But it was too much. This had to stop.

But the blindfold didn’t come off, the cuffs didn’t get unfastened. She grabbed his waning erection in her hand and squeezed. “I said,
turn around
and bend over. Red
doesn’t apply here.”

He winced. “I can’t, Sam. Please. I’m serious.”

“Do it or I’ll call the boys back in to make you.”

Call them back in? She’d sent them out? Breath gusted out of him.

She put her hands to his jaw, holding his face in place. “You said you would trust me, Andrews. Start doing it.”

He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. “Sorry, mistress. I’m trying.”

“Not very hard.” She kept ahold of him, her voice low and close. “All that matters right now is me. Keep focused on that. You are here to please
me
. It’s your only goddamned mission. One thing. You got that?”

The firmness of her voice, the confidence in it, made something unfurl inside him. That’s what he needed. He needed to grab onto that dominance of hers like a lifeline. If he could focus on that, maybe he could block out the other noise. What did it really matter if Pike or Foster saw him in some compromising position? They were his friends. Pike happily admitted he sometimes switched roles with his wife. They wouldn’t lay shame at his feet. And neither would anyone at the Ranch. That was on him.

“Yes, mistress. I understand.”

“Good.” She moved her hands to his shoulders and dug her nails in. “Now turn around and bend over.”

It was still hard for him to do, but he managed. He clasped his cuffed hands and braced them on the edge of the bed. Then he pressed his forehead to his folded hands, trying to center his mind. Sam kicked his feet wider and made a noise that sounded like hunger and sex and pleasure all in one. “You’re so fucking hot. Jesus.”

He shuddered under the words, her obvious enjoyment of seeing him like this buoying him.

“I miss seeing my marks on you.” She scored her nails over his ass and thighs, instantly making his cock stand at
attention, and then gave him a hard smack with her palm.

He groaned as the sweet fire of her touch sent the blood rushing there. The marks she’d given him that night at the farmhouse were long gone. For the first few days afterward, every time he’d moved, he’d felt what she’d left, had relished it. Had felt like somehow they were still connected through that pain. But when they’d faded, that’s when the loss of her had fully hit him. So feeling that sting again now set off this spark of rightness in him that he’d never be able to articulate. He wanted to be covered in her marks. Wanted to look at his body and know that she owned him.

“I miss them, too.” The words drifted out of him, his thoughts bypassing his filter. “I miss
you.
”

Sam’s hands grasped his waist, and she planted a kiss at the base of his spine. “Saying sweet things isn’t going to get you out of what I’m going to do to you tonight.”

“And what’s that, mistress?” he asked, trying to turn his head toward her even though he wouldn’t be able to see her.

“What I’ve been wanting to do since almost the very first moment I saw you.” She grabbed his hair with rough fingers and pushed his head back down.
“Break you
.
”

Every muscle in his body went tense, the relief from a moment before falling away. Sam was the kind of girl who picked up stray dogs on the road. She was also the kind of girl who wasn’t afraid to make him bleed. And tonight he had a feeling the blood would be the mental kind.

She leaned down close to his ear. “And poor Gibson. There’s no safe word to save you now.”

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. And as much fear as her words stirred in him, he couldn’t stop the erection jutting between his thighs from growing harder.

He’d asked to be forced.

She was going to do it.

Sam stepped behind him, drizzled lube down his ass crack, and pushed something unyielding against him. “Don’t fight me. It’s a waste of time. You know I’ll win.”

His fists squeezed in the cuffs, and Sam filled him with a plug. The invasion pressed some button in his brain. And even though it was just a toy, somehow it felt like it was Sam inside him, getting under his skin and invading every private place.
You’re mine. No part of you is safe from me.
That’s what this said. The plug began to vibrate, slow and intermittent, making him groan, his stomach clench. His mind drifted for a few seconds, lost to the sensation. And he lost track of where Sam was until he felt her hands on his cock.

His breath hissed out when she spread lubricant on him and slid something tight over his shaft. Pressure squeezed at the base of his erection then she trussed his balls as well. A cock ring. He made some garbled noise. Some caveman language that meant
Oh, fuck, genitals in danger! Run for the hills!

But he couldn’t move. The pressure only added to the throbbing in his cock, but somehow it made everything more intense, more alive.

“Beautiful,” Sam said. “Good job staying still. You get a reward for that.” She swiped her tongue over the tip of his
cock, cleaning up the fluid gathering there with slow, sucking strokes. He moaned, his erection going so hard, he was sure it was just going to shatter.

“Oh, does that make it more uncomfortable?” she asked sweetly. “So sorry.”

He tried to breathe through the need. The ring wasn’t going to let him ease up on the intensity of his arousal, and the vibrator would edge him, keeping him right on the verge of coming but not hitting the spot. His mistress was an evil, evil woman.

Sam tugged boxers on for him, offering him some semblance of privacy, but there’d be no hiding how painfully turned on he was. If anyone needed to know where the sky was, he had a built-in pointer to let them know. Or maybe he could give them a lesson in geometry.
Hello, let me demonstrate an acute angle for you.

Because it certainly was fucking
acute
.

When the guys came back in the room, they didn’t say a word about him or his relentless hard-on. A small mercy. They simply followed Sam’s instructions and grabbed him by the biceps to lead him to the kitchen.

“Walk, Andrews,” Sam said, giving his ass a smack.

Gibson forced one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the way the plug shifted and rubbed inside him with each step.

“Where do you keep your keys?” Foster asked, all business once they reached the kitchen.

Gibson squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold as he focused all his effort on sounding normal.
Everything’s cool. Everything’s good. A little prostate massage while chatting with the boys is not a big deal at all.
“Bowl by the toaster.”

But it came out like,
Bowl! By the TOASTER!
His voice somewhere in the octave range of a preteen girl.

Pike sniffed next to him. Gibson looked his way, knowing his friend was probably enjoying Gibson’s discomfort a little too much.

“Take care of getting him in the SUV, guys,” Sam said. “I’ve got a few things to get from my car. And make sure he keeps his hands where they are.”

Gibson scoffed. Like he’d touch himself in front of the guys. Okay, maybe if that vibrator picked up speed, he’d have no choice.
Please, God, don’t let that happen.