Club Helix: The Power Games (16 page)

“You will have the next two days to spend as you wish. On Friday, the submissives will enjoy another spa day to prepare for the games while the Doms get ready for Western Night. The games will start promptly at eight o’clock.”

Damn Logan and his rules. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he came up with this asinine rule just to torture me. Any plans I’d had to determine if Ava meant what she said last night about reconsidering her hard limit on sex are now shelved for the next three days. Ava’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts of ways to slowly torture Logan.

“This is really thick paint,” she mutters. “I hope I can get it all off.”

“Don’t worry,” I say wickedly. “I’ll be happy to help you with that.”

Chapter Eleven

Ava

I wake up naked as usual, surrounded by Roman’s arms. I’m getting used to the feel of his arms around me, and it’s surprisingly nice. I snuggle in closer. Things have been different between us since the night of the striptease. Not because he’s been different; if anything, he’s been even more demanding and domineering. But my attitude’s changed because I’ve seen a glimpse of the sweet and tender side he hides behind that gruff Dominant demeanor.

I move to get up, but strong hands hold me fast, turning me in his arms. He nuzzles my neck, the scruffy overnight shadow of his beard tickling me deliciously.

“What should we do today?” he murmurs.

“I know what we can’t do today,” I grumble. Roman had been quite thorough in washing the paint off in the shower last night, and I’m still feeling vaguely needy and out of sorts this morning.

He nips my ear. “Don’t remind me.”

“I don’t know what you’re worried about. The rule doesn’t apply to you.”

He looks at me consideringly. “The problem is, I don’t know how I’m going to keep you on edge for two days without making you come. All I have to do is touch you and you explode.”

My face flushes with heat. “You make me sound like some sort of nymphomaniac,” I protest. “I do not come that easily.”

“Yes, you do, sweetheart,” he says with a smile of pure male satisfaction. “Let’s go downstairs and have breakfast while I think about it.”

We’re half-finished with breakfast—eggs, bacon, and toast for him, and yogurt and a bowl of strawberries for me—when he surprises me by asking me what I like to do.

“What do you mean?” I dip a strawberry into the yogurt and then lick it off.

“Dammit, Ava, are you trying to drive me crazy?” he grumbles, his gaze fixed on my mouth.

“Someone’s kind of grumpy today.” I dip the strawberry back into the yogurt and lick it off again, swirling my tongue deliberately around the tip of the strawberry before sliding it slowly between my lips. His eyes darken.

“And someone’s going to pay for teasing her Dom,” he says.

God, I hope so.

“I mean what do you like to do for fun? What do you enjoy in your spare time?” he presses.

I think about his question. “I don’t know,” I say slowly. “For the last couple of years my time has been consumed by school, and any spare time I had I was working at a coffee shop to make money to cover the things my scholarship didn’t. I didn’t have much time for fun.”

He picks up my hand. “No hobbies? No passions?” I shake my head. “What about music?” he asks, playing idly with my fingers. “You said you liked music. And you clearly know a thing or two about it, given your song choice the other night. Not everyone has heard of Lipstick Zoo.”

I look up at him in surprise. “You’ve heard of them?”

He nods. “Great band.”

I can’t figure him out. What kind of man runs a multimillion-dollar company and gets off on controlling women but listens to Lipstick Zoo? “I do love music,” I admit. “I think I have a playlist for everything, and I love discovering new bands. Not being able to listen to music whenever I want has been one of the hardest things about the games. Well, besides the whole being-naked-all-the-time thing. And being spanked. And having to do whatever I’m told. And—”

He silences me with a kiss, his tongue brushing over mine unhurriedly as his lips taste and tantalize until I’ve forgotten what we were talking about.

“Let’s go to the gym this morning,” he suggests. “After lunch, you can help me with some work I have to do, and then we can go watch a band tonight. I’ll see who’s playing around town.”

We work out together at the gym after breakfast, and I have to say the sight of Roman’s abs and that chest glistening with sweat makes the time fly. We go back to the suite to shower and then grab lunch at one of the Helix’s smaller restaurants before returning to our room. I’m curious as to what I could possibly help Roman with for work.

He grabs his laptop off the desk where he usually works and takes it into the bedroom, telling me to come with him. He moves a plushly upholstered armchair so it’s positioned facing the side of the bed and sets the laptop down on it. Then he turns to me, taking in the white tank top and silk shorts I’m wearing with sandals.

“Take off your shoes and your bra,” he commands.

I do as he says, wondering what this has to do with his work.

He eases me down onto the bed until I’m stretched out on my back.

“Perfect,” he murmurs. “Give me your wrists.”

I hold them out to him tentatively, and he wraps a leather cuff snugly around each one and then lifts my arms over my head, securing the cuffs to a swiveling O-ring attached to the center of the headboard. Then he unceremoniously yanks my silk shorts and panties off so I’m completely naked except for the tank top.

“This isn’t exactly what I thought you meant by helping you with work,” I mutter.

“You’re going to be my inspiration today,” he says, his voice silky.

My heartbeat kicks up a notch as he goes over to the armoire and returns with a small black bullet-shaped object with a flared base. He unceremoniously flips me over onto my stomach.

“What are you doing?” I ask with an edge of panic.

“Getting you ready for Friday.”

His hands roughly massage my buttocks, and I’m embarrassed to find myself getting aroused. His fingers separate my cheeks, and there’s a trickle of something warm and wet, and then something presses against the tight little hole hidden there. I start to thrash about, trying to escape the unwanted intrusion. Roman easily pins my legs with his, holding me immobile as he presses harder. My ass begins to burn as the plug, hard and unyielding, breaches the muscles of my anus.

“Ow! Stop!” I protest, but the newly awakened wanton side of me is hoping he doesn’t. I’m not about to admit it to him, but some secret dark side of me craves anything he wants to do to me.

“Stop being so dramatic, Ava,” he says calmly, slowly working the plug into my burning ass. “You can thank me later for starting with a small one.”

I struggle slightly, but with my wrists cuffed to the bed and Roman’s body pinioning mine, I can barely move. He gently but firmly holds me still as the plug stretches and burns me until it reaches a point that my body seems to accept it and pulls it in, and it settles inside me with a plop.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Roman says.

I don’t answer. Easy for him to say; he doesn’t have a huge plug shoved up his ass. It feels enormous, and my ass is throbbing around the gigantic intrusion.

He flips me back over. The movement makes the plug shift inside me, and I moan. His eyes glint at the sound. He lifts the hem of my tank top and pulls it up to my neck, exposing my breasts. Somehow it’s more humiliating than if he’d taken the tank top off completely. He regards my position with satisfaction.

“Perfect. I’ve got to get to work now.”

“What? You’re just going to leave me like this?”

“Well, we’ve already established I can’t touch you. This should keep you aware of your body and your vulnerability, and it will be damn nice to watch you squirm while I work. Be quiet now so I can concentrate, or I’ll gag you too.”

He sits down in the chair he’d placed next to the bed so I’m displayed in full view in front of him, and casually opens his laptop. I stare at him incredulously. Is he fucking serious? I’m just supposed to lie here handcuffed to the bed with a throbbing ass and my breasts displayed like I’m some sex object while he works? Apparently so. But the thought of the gag is enough to keep me quiet, and I lie there silently while he works, although he looks up regularly to check on me, his gray eyes darkening to blue as he takes in my compromised and increasingly aroused state.

I have plenty of time to reflect on the sensation of the plug in my ass. I feel full and stretched, but not unpleasantly so. The initial sting has subsided, leaving a low, pulsing throbbing in its place. The pressure is strangely erotic, and the longer I lie there, the more my body responds. My nipples pucker into tight points as Roman’s gaze roves over me, and I can feel the inexplicable pool of moisture between my legs even though he hasn’t so much as touched me. I close my eyes, trying to ignore the need simmering in my belly.

I don’t know how long we’ve been there—whether it’s been minutes or hours—when there’s a knock at the suite door. Roman gets up to answer the door, and I listen intently, wondering who it is. He’s left the door to the bedroom open, but thank God the bed isn’t in the direct line of sight of the doorway.

It’s a masculine voice and one I don’t recognize, but whoever it is obviously works with Roman because they’re discussing a problem with a contract. After several minutes, I hear Roman say, “Let’s take a look at it. I have the contract up on my laptop.”

He wouldn’t!

I want to absolutely die of mortification as I hear the men’s voices get closer. I squeeze my eyes shut as they enter the bedroom, continuing their discussion without so much as a break in conversation, and I wonder with a surge of hope if somehow the other man hasn’t noticed me. I open one eye. No such luck. He’s staring at me, his eyes hot as they take in my breasts bared by the tugged-up tank top and my completely exposed sex.
Never let them see your weakness.
I return his stare defiantly.

The man laughs. “Looks like you’ve finally met your match, Roman.”

Roman just smiles and picks up his laptop. “Here’s the section I was talking about.”

The two men discuss the contract language, and I turn so my back is to them, relieved that Roman’s friend is apparently not going to be allowed to touch me. But I’m disturbed by the fact that I’m aroused by Roman allowing another man to see me like this, that his blatant assertion of his claim on me turns me on. I’m clearly going to need to go back to therapy after the games are over.

They wrap up their conversation, and as the man says good-bye, Roman’s hand roams possessively over my ass, wiggling the plug. I jolt, and the man laughs again. If the floor could open and suck me up right this minute, I swear I’d never ask for anything again.

“See you later, Roman.”

Roman sees him out and stays in the living area for what seems like an eternity before finally returning to the bedroom and sinking down on the bed next to me.

“Are you sufficiently turned on yet, Avalon?” he asks softly. He runs his hands across my breasts, and I stifle a moan. Somehow, I am ripe with need, and I want nothing more than his hands between my legs. He plays with me for a minute, stroking and pinching and twisting my nipples until I’m straining against the cuffs.

“God knows I am,” he grumbles. “I’ll have to tie you to the bed like this for an entire night when the orgasm restriction is lifted so I can take what I want from you whenever I want it, and you’ll be helpless to do anything but give in to my demands.”

I press my thighs together at the thought, trying to alleviate the pulsing need. He’s going to make me come with nothing but his words. He knows it too, and he chuckles as he rolls me over, pulls out the plug, slaps my bottom, and says, “Time for dinner.”

I feel restless and aching as I dress for dinner, but I know better than to touch myself or do anything that might bring me the relief I’m starting to crave. When Logan had announced the no-orgasm rule last night, I’d had no idea it would be this hard. At least I’ll be able to get my mind off it tonight, since Roman and I are going to see a local band at a place called the Beauty Bar on Fremont Street. Of course I should have known better.

“Come here, Ava,” he calls to me as I’m standing in front of the closet in my bra and panties, trying to decide what to wear. I obediently come to stand in front of him, surprised at how accustomed I’m becoming to presenting my body to him when requested. Maybe there’s hope for me yet and we really could win, or at least come close.

He holds up three chains all connected to a central circular ring to form a Y. The two shorter chains at the top are tipped with clamps much like the ones Roman had attached to my nipples during our photo shoot in the Helix Room, with a tweezer-looking clamp attached to a longer chain forming the bottom of the Y.

“What’s that?” I ask suspiciously.

Instead of answering, he grasps one of my nipples between his finger and his thumb and gently rolls and twists it until it’s swollen and distended before attaching the clamp. His mouth absorbs my cry as the clamp bites into my tender nipple. Although the clamp isn’t as tight this time, he kisses me until the initial pain has subsided, leaving the duller throbbing sensation I remember from the photo shoot. He repeats the process with my other breast, toying with the nipple until it’s elongated and taut, then taking my mouth as he attaches the second clamp.

My breath is coming faster as he pulls away, picking up the longer chain that dangles down to my crotch.
Oh no!
I take a step back as I realize where he intends to put the last clamp, but Roman grabs the chain between my breasts and tugs me back. I gasp at the blissfully agonizing pressure as the clamps dig in, and desire flares through me, little flames of heat licking in my belly. Holding me still with the chain connecting the nipple clamps lightly gripped between his teeth, he opens me intimately as my face flushes. He places the clamp firmly over my clit, sliding a ring up to tighten the clamp so that my clit is trapped between the two sides of the tweezer-like clamp.