Fever Dream (18 page)

“You can do it,” he said. “Suck me. You’re starving for me, aren’t you?” He massaged her throat as she took his length as deep as she could. Dream or reality?

His fingers felt too warm and real for this to be a dream. She cupped her hands around his rigid length, over the part she couldn’t fit in her mouth, then reached down to stroke his balls. At his urging, she drew back to lick them with broad strokes. He groaned and put his hands on the sides of her head. “
Jesus Cristo
,” he said. “You’re getting too good at this. Turn around. Open your legs.”

He knelt behind her and yanked her into position on her hands and knees. She barely caught her breath before he impaled her on his cock. He drove against her hot ass, riding her, manipulating her for his pleasure. He was so greedy and demanding. Heat built in her pussy, her innate response to his mastery. He stroked and pinched her breasts and pressed his chest against her back. When she begged
there, there, there,
he gave it to her there, thrusting deep and sliding his fingers over her swollen clit.

Is okay to be scared. Is okay to be scared.

The deep strokes of his cock were scary exciting, and scary rough. Add his muscles, his grasping hands, and the seductive lilt of his accent, and she found herself in that wondrous world again, the world where she and Rubio fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. His cock and her pussy, his force and her submission. His darkness and the light he opened up inside her, the light that pulsed and made her shudder until she fell apart. He licked the back of her neck and yanked her hair hard.

“You smell like sugar,” he said against her ear. “I dream about it...” His voice went out on a gasp and he drove into her harder, faster, lifting her from the floor with the force of his thrusts. Her pussy clenched around him as her orgasm erupted without conscious thought. It was a reflex, a natural outcome of being joined to him. He wrapped her in his arms, and she thought she could feel his heartbeat beneath her own heart’s frantic pounding. He ground his hips against hers. His whole body tensed and shuddered, and then he grabbed two handfuls of her hair and pressed his forehead to her back.

“Petra,” he sighed. “What do you do to me?”

He drew back and flipped her over, and kissed her as she clung to him, basking in the feeling of his hard body pressed against hers. After a while, he pulled away to take off the condom.

“Careful,” he said. “So no baby. Right?”

She nodded, so appreciative of the care he took. She had to look away, or she was afraid he’d see everything she felt about him.
I love you. I’m trying to fight it but I can’t.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, right there in the middle of the hard floor. Neither one of them spoke for a moment and then he said, “That was good. Good scene.” He ran a fingertip up her arm, raising goose bumps. “I like to be with you, Petra. You make me happy. This is okay, isn’t it?”

Petra chose the vaguest answer possible. “I think it has to be okay.”

“Hmm.” He answered that tentative statement with a kiss. “Everything is okay. Very okay then. Are you happy too?”

She didn’t have to think twice about it. “Yes, I’m happy.”

“Maybe soon...” He paused. “When we have a day off, maybe it’s time to visit the play room together. Try out some of the equipment.”

She wasn’t sure whether her shiver was born of excitement or anxiety. She just knew “soon” couldn’t come soon enough.

Rubio expected it to be tedious, watching out for Petra, going with her everywhere and constantly monitoring their surroundings. But the truth was, he’d been watching her for weeks, attuned to everything about her. Back then, he’d been watching for any signal she might reconsider their sex-free partnership.

He was so, so glad she’d reconsidered. She wasn’t as hardcore as some of the women he’d played with, but she excited him in other ways. She
connected
with him. She made herself vulnerable for him—and he knew it wasn’t natural for her to let her guard down. He rewarded her as best he could. He gave her orgasms and eased her into trying new things, new adventures to bring her pleasure.
Nutcracker
rehearsals—which were normally excruciating—took on a new air of sensuality. As they moved together, he’d gaze into her eyes and they’d both remember the previous night’s sexual encounter—a cropping that had her begging for mercy or a wrestling match that ended with raunchy sex.

Sometimes as they rehearsed together, he’d whisper what he planned to do to her later, very quietly. He’d move his hand across her ass cheeks, across hidden welts no one else could see. He never kissed her. She wouldn’t let him kiss her in front of anyone because she wanted their relationship to be a secret. She didn’t want them to become a company “item,” didn’t want to be the object of speculation and gossip. She didn’t want to become her mom.

Rubio understood that. He understood a lot more about her now that they’d grown closer, and he felt a lot about her, but he kept it inside because he didn’t want to upset her, or scare her away. Once he started blurting out his feelings all hell would break loose, because he never said things right. He didn’t have a lot of smooth manners, and it wasn’t easy for him to talk.

He listened to her though. That, at least, he could do. He held her at night as she poured out her fears about Paulsen, and her fears about getting older, her fears about work, or a difficult ballet, or company politics. One frown from Liam, and Petra would fall into a tailspin. Liam kept them loosely informed about Paulsen’s activities and correspondence, but Rubio could tell he was selective about what he shared.

Somehow, some way, this stalking crisis would pass. In the meantime, Ruby tried his best to distract her from troubling thoughts. Today, he was taking her on a private tour of Liam’s play room—a tour he’d been planning for days.

“Come on,” he said when she stalled on the stairs. “Is not so scary. I’ll turn on the lights.”

He flipped a switch and the “lights” came on: sconces of flickering LED candles. The play room looked the same day or night, thanks to thick black walls and a lack of windows. Petra stood at his side, scanning the equipment. He took her hand and smiled at her. “It looks different, huh? When it’s just us?”

She nodded. “It looks empty. You’re absolutely sure Liam and Ashleigh won’t come down here? Or Mem?”

“I put a sign on the door.
Ocupado.
It’s just you and me.” He crossed to the sound system and put on some music with a low, sensual beat.

Petra drifted over to a towering iron rack, studying the rails and eye bolts. “How long has Liam been giving his parties?”

“As long as I’ve known him, which is a pretty long time. Almost ten years now. The parties started out smaller. They’ve grown over time. Liam likes to make a safe place for people to play and meet new partners. Before Ashleigh, he used to play with...” He made a careless gesture. “Hundreds of women. He was a player.”

She looked at him from under her lashes. “You’re a player too, aren’t you?”

He was about to agree when he realized it had been weeks since he’d been with a party chick, with anyone besides Petra. He shrugged. “I’m not so bad. Not anymore.”
Not since I met you
.

The unspoken words danced around them. He shoved out his bottom lip. “Well, pretty soon I’m going to tie you down and do dirty things to your body. So if you want to explore, or ask any questions, you better do that now.”

She strolled along the wall, checking out all the various implements. “How long have you been into BDSM?” she asked.

He’d been ready to do tutorials on equipment, not answer questions about himself. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I don’t remember a time I wasn’t into it. I always had this...this mean stroke. Is that the expression?”

“Mean streak?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re mean, though. You’re a little rough, but underneath, you’re a caring person.”

“Don’t tell that to anyone,” he said with a threatening glare. “Is not true, anyway.”

“It is true.” She grinned at him, so cute and sweet. Pretty Petra. What would she think of his background, his childhood? The impoverished neighborhood where he grew up?

“In Brazil...” He paused, wondering how to explain such things to her. “In Brazil, when I was young, I saw a lot of injustice. A lot of weak and poor, and powerful and rich. There were great divides. From an early age, I thought...I want to have power. I don’t want to be weak. When I started ballet, the teachers said I had talent. I wanted to quit. I thought ballet was weak but my teacher showed me it can be strong. It can be powerful. I saw that ballet could bring me power, that I could use my talent to rise out of poverty. I was determined, even when kids teased me and threw rocks at me.”

“They threw rocks at you?”

“They threw worse things, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be the best, I wanted to have power. With sex too, when I started, I wanted to be the one in control, all the time, for everything. I had this feeling of wanting to protect women, but wanting to hurt them too. But for pleasure, not to be cruel.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain. My English isn’t good enough.”

“No. I understand what you mean. I see that all the time in you, the protective-yet-hurty thing.”

He locked eyes with her over the space between them. It occurred to him that outside of Liam, Petra knew him best. He glanced away, scanning the room full of BDSM equipment. “I can’t say why I like to hurt women in sex. I don’t know why I like to hurt you. I can’t explain why I want that, when I—” He almost said,
when I love you
. He did love her, he was almost sure. He also knew he couldn’t tell her that. Instead he shrugged and said, “I don’t know where it comes from.”

She turned her head a little, the light of the candles reflecting in her hair. “Pain is a very effective way to exert power. I’m sure that’s all it is. But...does it upset you? That you like to hurt women?”

He looked away from her probing gaze. “It only upsets me when it makes me uncompatible with someone I like.”

“Incompatible.”

“Yes, because I know a lot of women don’t like to be hurt.”

She looked past him, toward the corner where he’d played with her on the horse. “I didn’t think I liked to be hurt, but you make it sexy. Exciting. I liked it from the very first time.”

“I remember,” he said, forcing a smile. All this serious talk. He tried to refocus her attention to fun things, leading her over to the wall of BDSM implements. “What do you think? See anything interesting?”

“I see a lot of things that are interesting. And scary.”

He reached for a clear Lucite paddle and turned it over in his hand. “This hurts bad. Want to feel it?”

He brandished it at her and she ran off. He followed, his laughter rising over the low hum of the music. She was short but she was quick and she fit into spaces he couldn’t. She hid behind a cage in the corner and peeked out at him.

“You know you want it,” he said, grinning.

“How long did it take Liam to collect all that stuff?” she asked.

“It’s not all his. People donate toys they don’t want anymore, or leave their gear here for the parties. My private stash is in a trunk over there.” He lifted a brow. “Wanna see?”

That got her out from behind the cage. He gave her a crack on the way over just to hear her yelp. She kept her butt covered until he hung the paddle back up. They moved to his custom-made, leather embellished trunk, and he was glad to see curiosity in her expression, rather than dread. He unlocked it with the code and opened the lid. It was designed like a tool chest inside, with lots of shelves and compartments for holding all sizes of evil things.

“So,” he said, “you’ve probably seen a lot of this stuff on those websites.”

“What websites?”

He gave her a look. “I know you been checking things out, but that’s good.” He showed her rope, cuffs and bondage straps, paddles and whips and nipple clamps, fluorescent vibrators and stainless steel butt plugs. “You know what those metal plugs are for,” he said, watching the blush spread across her cheeks. “I think today we’ll try some. But don’t worry. With you I’ll start small.”

He studied one that was anything but small, just to mess with her. When she cringed, he put it back and got a smaller one, for a beginner. It would do for the moment. He got some nipple clamps too, along with a whip and a vibrator. “You carry these,” he said, shoving them into her hands. “I’ll get a bigger plug, and the lube.”

“A bigger plug?” she asked nervously.

“Yeah, and lube.” He nudged her in the direction of a padded bondage table. “For now we’ll use lube. Until your ass is better trained.” He always used lube for anal—he was just messing with her. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “Nothing today will hurt too much.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

He pulled her to a stop beside the table. “Whatever I like. You understand that by now, yes? But if you want to know, I’m going to put a plug in your ass and a vibrator on your clit, and I’m not going to let you come. I’ll hurt you with the clamps and the whip too, I think.” He had her dump the items on a nearby table. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fun?” she repeated forlornly. “To not be able to come?”

“It’s fun for me, to see you suffering and struggling. Maybe, at the end we can do some bargaining, if you really want an orgasm.”

She ruffled up. “Orgasms are physiological. Sometimes they just happen. What if I just...go off?”

He picked up the set of nipple clamps and turned them over in his palm. “If you knew you were going to get twenty whip strokes for coming without permission, could you hold off?”

“I...I don’t know. It would depend what you were doing to me.”

“I told you. Anal plug. Vibrator. Nipple clamps, of course. Think you could do it?”

“For how long?”

“Ten minutes. Ten short minutes. Easy. Take your clothes off,” he said. “Let’s try.”

She shook her head. “I know I couldn’t do it. I’d mess up. And twenty strokes with a whip sounds way too hard for me.”