Fever Dream (9 page)

A horse. He’d make her straddle a sawhorse, secure her arms over her head so she couldn’t flail around too much. And then...

He rubbed the front of his fly. This was going to leave him with a horrible case of blue balls, but if she didn’t want sex, he couldn’t force her. If he played this scene right, they could start a whole journey of pain and submission and, eventually, she’d want something more. Like in ballet, he’d partner her, hold her steady and guide her through the hard parts.

We can make perfection together.

She looked around self-consciously as he led her to the right side of the room, to a padded horse that was currently unoccupied. Strange, to see Petra without her usual confidence, but he liked her better this way. She was letting down walls, allowing him to see a sliver of her vulnerability. A sliver, that’s all she would give. When they stopped beside the sawhorse, he started gathering up the skirt of her dress. He could feel her legs shaking.

“Is okay,” he said. “We can stop anytime if you don’t like playing in public. But I think I can help you forget everyone else.”

She looked at him and then she nodded, letting him pull her dress up and off. Nice stretchy thing, like a dance costume. He flung it in the corner and took in the vision of his partner. Her black hair matched a sexy black bra that pushed her tits up in perfect little mounds. She also wore a black garter belt and stockings that had his cock surging against the constriction of his jeans. Who would have guessed Petra dressed like that under her clothes?

He pushed back her false hair when she tried to hide her face. How dark it looked against her pale skin. He would have taken the wig off but he had a sense she needed it, that she needed anonymity right now. Her lips were a dark-plum pout on her face.

Damn you
, he thought.
You’re killing me.

He traced the curve of her breasts over her bra, marveling at the silky texture of her skin. “Is okay to touch you?” he asked, beneath the throb of the music. “Even with no sex?”

“I—I guess so.”

He ran his fingers down to her waist, tracing the edge of the lacy garter belt, and then down the elastic fasteners to the tops of her legs. He knew her legs like he knew his own, knew their size and strength, but he never knew them like this before, with the sheer tops of the stockings sliding under his fingers. Her panties were black silk, and they covered far too much for his taste. He brushed the pad of a thumb, only one thumb, across the smooth gusset.

Her whole body reacted, drawing up with aroused tension. He just meant to tease her a little, but suddenly their bodies were vibrating on a whole other plane.

“Really, no sex?” he murmured when he had control of himself again. “You’re sure?”

She pressed her forehead against his chest. “Please, don’t keep asking.”

“You have a beautiful body, though. Is too beautiful for words.”

He didn’t know why he said that. Maybe because he really was having trouble putting words together at the moment. He collected the shreds of his sanity and nudged her toward the horse. She started to bend over it but he stopped her and lifted her, and settled her on it astride. Her feet could reach the ground, but barely, so she had to balance with her pussy pressed against the padded top. She gave a faint moan crossed with a sigh, and he wished he had a recording of it, so he could listen to it a thousand more times. She was kinky. How…
perfect
. He wished he’d known before now.

“Stay,” he said. “I’m going to get some things.”

He watched her surreptitiously as he prowled along the wall, picking up a pair of narrow cuffs and a riding crop. He wondered why she could bare her soul in front of a massive City Ballet audience, but was afraid to play here without hiding behind makeup and a wig. It made him feel protective, which was something he almost never felt in a typical scene. He liked to challenge his partners, drive them crazy, get them off. Protect them? No.

He returned to her, ignoring the curious glances of his friends. “Give me your hands,” he ordered.

She obeyed, staring as he buckled the cuffs onto her wrists. “Are you going to give me a safeword?” she asked.

“I’ll give you a safeword if you want. How about
Romeo
? You can remember that word, yes?”

Maybe it was a bad choice. It would remind her they worked together, that they’d premiered their partnership a few hours ago in front of four thousand eyes. Or maybe it was good to remind her they worked together, that she could trust him. He looked into her eyes as he lifted her wrists with one hand and fished for the dangling carabiner with the other. She looked halfway to heaven and halfway to falling apart. Once her arms were fixed above her head, he grasped the curve of her neck and kissed her. He did it meaning to calm her down, but then he felt her straining to press against him, to get closer to him, and he caught fire.

He threw a leg over the horse so he faced her, and pulled her forward into his arms. He could touch her everywhere, anywhere now, and she couldn’t stop him. He took advantage, running his hands over all the parts of her he adored. He kissed her while he explored her waist, her hips, her breasts, even the hot silk of her panties. She tasted so sweet, as sweet as the
sonho
-sugar of her hair. He grasped her tight ass in one of his palms and squeezed it, and then gave it a sharp, resounding slap.

She broke away from the kiss with a gasp.

Ruby’s hand stayed where it was, curled into a fist. He could see in Petra’s eyes that it was the first time in her life she’d been spanked by anyone. He’d bet his life on it.
Kinky, my ass. You’re a reckless little vanilla, Petra Hewitt.
He shouldn’t play with her. He should send her home immediately and tell her not to come back. But he couldn’t.

He blinked, holding her gaze, and then he swatted her again for good measure.

“That’s what happens to bad girls,” he whispered against her lips.

*** *** ***

Petra stared into his dark eyes from inches away. Every time she breathed in, her chest brushed against his solid heat and she was aware of him not as her partner, but as a man. She stretched her arms and pulled at the leather cuffs, but she couldn’t get away. Between his arms and his body, and the sawhorse and the cuffs holding her, she felt trapped and powerless in a way she’d never been before. It was a hot, scary feeling exacerbated by the sting in her ass cheeks. He’d done that to her. Rubio had spanked her—hard—with those same hands he used to lift and manipulate her onstage.

That’s what happens to bad girls.

Oh God. When he spanked her, she’d been shocked but turned on too. Her whole body responded instantly, her pussy flaring hot and then settling into a nagging, simmering ache. His monster cock was put away, concealed within his jeans, but she felt more threatened than ever. His sexuality enveloped her, intoxicating her—and there was going to be more, much more. She could tell by his expression and the tension in his muscles.

“Ouch,” she said, trying to sound light and nonplussed.

She’d lied like a maniac, told him she was into this stuff. At first, it was only so he wouldn’t be angry with her, but then she realized it was also because, deep down, she wanted to try it. She wanted Rubio to top her because once he offered it, she didn’t think she could survive without knowing what it would be like.

She was in deep shit now. He was so much more intense than in her fantasies. Everything was so much more real: his hand squeezing and slapping her ass, his breath in her ear, his hot skin brushing against hers, and the growing pressure between her legs.

He let her go and stood up, and without meaning to, she pitched forward. The cuffs stopped her and her pussy slid against the padded top of the horse. She felt the teasing pulse of pleasure all the way down the insides of her thighs, and up into her breasts. Her nipples tightened, ticklish, against the cups of her bra. She struggled in the cuffs because she didn’t know how else to process all this stimulation. Around them, people turned to look with appreciative stares. They were involved in similar scenes, but Petra couldn’t imagine any of them feeling quite as unhinged as her.

She glanced over her shoulder to find Rubio studying her, a thin, whippy implement in his hand. It looked like a riding crop, but not a real one. It was one you used for sexy games, for having fun. She felt self-conscious under his gaze, about how she looked, about how turned on she was. He came closer and ran a hand up the length of her thigh. “Are you ready, little Petra?”

She tossed her head back, trying to be a sexy, wanton BDSM chick like the ones she’d watched earlier. At least she’d worn the damn garter belt. Was she convincing him she knew what she was doing? She jerked as a hot spark of pain landed on her left ass cheek.
Holy shit!
Her eyes flew to his.

“You like?” He wore a speculative expression. “More?”

“Of course, more,” she said with false confidence. “Do your worst. I can take it.”

His lips turned up in the shadow of a smile. “Dancers are such masochists.” He flicked her again with the crop, and this time a yelp escaped. He barely seemed to swing it for the resulting amount of sting. It had to be in the movement of the wrist. Again, and then again, he flicked her on her ass cheeks, concentrated points of pain. Was this supposed to feel good? It felt kind of good, but it frightened her too. She arched her back, pulling at the cuffs and chain holding her. She was acutely aware that her movements were sexual, that anyone watching would find her struggles erotic. She stood on her toes to relieve the pressure on her pussy and then he flicked her on the outside of her thigh.

“Ow.” She turned to frown at him. He made a face like, “What?” He strolled around her, slowly, casually, threatening more pain at any moment. He would choose when, he would choose how. She supposed that was the whole “top” thing. She jerked as he flicked the other thigh. It stung but barely left a mark, only a faint pink blush. What if he really whacked her with it? Was that what this was leading up to? She glanced out at the other areas of the basement where some people were playing very hard. The wailing woman on the spanking bench was getting paddled in a terrifying tattoo of cracks.

He came closer, took her chin in his fingers and lifted it. “You watching everyone else?” he said. “I can’t keep your attention?”

“There’s a lot going on. It’s hard not to look.”

“Mmm,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist. “You ready for more?”

“You’ve hardly given me anything.”

It was probably the wrong thing to say. It was like he’d been waiting for an excuse to go harder. The flicks began again, sharper this time, left cheek, right cheek. She didn’t want to struggle and make a scene but it was so hard to be still. Each time she jerked and tried to inch away from him, all she did was turn herself on more. Her panties were whisper-thin, her clit pressed hard against the top of the sawhorse. She hadn’t meant to get so turned on, not that it was her fault. He was the one who’d put her in this position. A groan escaped her. Yes, of course he’d put her in this position. He knew exactly what he was doing and she...she was a naïve, inexperienced fool.

He started cropping her light and fast then, with no rest in between.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
It started out uncomfortable and quickly grew unbearable. She flailed and pressed against him, swinging her arms, but he only held her tighter.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Ow, ow, ow, ow...

“Oh God,” she huffed. “Really? Ow. Please, stop.”

“Use your safeword if you need it.”

“I don’t need to use a safeword. It’s just...”
It’s just that my ass is on fire and you smell wonderful and my pussy is about to explode.
“My arms are starting to hurt.” What was one more lie? She pulled at the cuffs and made a face like her shoulders hurt, even though she was a dancer and could have held this pose for ages.

He didn’t question her, just set to work undoing the buckles. When he freed her wrists, she made a big show of stretching and kneading her arms. It bought some time for the hot ache in her ass cheeks to subside. When she finished she grasped the horse and sat rigidly still, even though what she really wanted to do was grind against it furiously.

“Arms better now?” Ruby asked her.

She nodded, eyeing the crop. “Is that it? Are we finished?”

His brows rose. “Not close to finished. But you can have your arms loose if you can keep them out of the way.”

Of course she could keep them out of the way. At least until he started that infernal torture again.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, flick, flick, flick.
“Ah, God,” she moaned, reaching back to shield herself. As soon as she did it, he moved to her thighs.
Tap, tap, flick, tap, tap, tap
, right over the garter elastics, right on her tender, bare skin. She put her hand there and like quicksilver, he was back at her ass, harder now.
Flick!
No matter where she tried to shield herself, he found another open spot.

“You’re going to get your fingers hurt,” he said. “Is not safe.” He grabbed her hands and pushed them down against the top of the horse. “Leave them there. Grab and don’t let go.”

Her fingers clenched on the black vinyl. She wasn’t sure why he was so worried for her fingers when he was killing her ass and thighs. She squirmed on the horse, wanting more. Wanting sex. Oh, God, no, no,
no
.

“No what?” he asked.

Had she said that out loud? She was losing her mind. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know if I can keep my hands still.”

He studied her face. “It hurts too much? You want me to stop?”

No, she didn’t. She’d never been so turned on in her life, but if he continued, she was afraid she’d lose control of everything. Her cries, her movements, and especially her sanity. She’d beg him to fuck her, to ride her to orgasm right here in front of everyone.

She stared at him, trying to compose an answer to his question, but she’d forgotten what he’d asked. He gazed back, like a predator not quite certain of his prey. Did he know? She should confess everything to him. That, yes, she’d come here to see him, and that no, she didn’t know anything about BDSM. She should confess about her dreams and her fantasies, tell him how much she wanted him even if she couldn’t allow herself to have him.