Hurt Me So Good (22 page)

Mal released a low rumbling growl that she usually saved for the scene. “In this mood, I’m afraid I’ll rip his dick off.”

Smiling, Victor shrugged. “Keep it clean enough for TV.”

Chapter Eighteen

Georgia resumed her hostess duties as though nothing had happened. “Mistress M, would you like to punish Gift for failing to answer your questions correctly?”

Shiloh tensed instinctively. She’d seen the emotions tearing up the other woman’s face. If Mal chose to punish her while she was so angry, Victor would end up being very pissed indeed.

“Not at this time.” Mal gave a hard smile for the camera, but Shiloh knew she was thinking about saving all that rage and hurt for Andy. “Although I reserve the right to punish her if she fails the next challenge.”

Georgia inclined her head and turned to the camera. “Very well. Let’s begin the judging.”

Pressing her forehead to the cold floor, Shiloh waited in the shadows while Patrick kicked off another submissive and rewarded Peppi with her necklace. Victor had chosen rubies this time, one of Shiloh’s favorite stones, which made losing this round hurt even more.

Mal went next, and she was terse with Andy even though she declared him winner. He dared to slip his hands up her thigh beneath her riding habit, giving her a cocky grin that had surely won him much favor in the past.

This time, Mistress M planted her boot on his chest and shoved him backwards to sprawl on the floor. “Remember who your Mistress is, boy.”

Disgraced, Andy remained prone, face pressed to the floor.

“And now, let us hear from Master V,” Georgia said.

Instead of coming toward them, Victor stayed on the dais while the contestants rocked back to their knees.

He began in a severe voice that could have blistered paint off the walls. “Gift, you failed to answer a single question correctly for both Mistress M and Master P. Service is a crucial skill for any top sub, and while you serviced me to the best of your ability, you failed to please the other Dominants. You brought shame upon your Master.”

Shiloh dropped back to the formal kowtow position. Yeah, this was all a show, but his critique still stung as fiercely as any blow he could hope to deliver. She could have done better for the other Dominants, but her best would always go to Victor.

“Willow, you answered the most questions successfully tonight out of all the submissives competing for my collar, and so you win this challenge.” Canned applause filled the silence, but Victor looked far from pleased with his forehead furrowed and the short, impatient taps of the crop against his hip. He walked toward Kimberly, continuing to slap his thigh repeatedly, and his face went even grimmer with each flinch she gave. “However, I have significant doubts about our compatibility.”

He gave one last loud strike against his thigh, and Kimberly kowtowed before him, shaking. “I can’t do it, Master. I’m so sorry. Please dismiss me instead of Ruby.”

Her words melted even Shiloh’s heart. His face softened and he bent down, his hand gentle as he lifted Kimberly up to stand before him. Sincere tears dripped down her cheeks, her face twisted with grief.

“I’m sorry.” Gently, he latched the necklace around her neck for her. “I cannot change who I am, and neither can you. You’ll make a less edgy Dominant very happy indeed.”

Taking Kimberly’s hand, he bowed and kissed her knuckles, keeping with the tone of the show. Head high, she walked off set, leaving Shiloh and the other contestant before Victor. “Return to the line.”

Georgia stepped forward and patted him on the arm. “I’m afraid you’re not the top Master tonight.”

He gave her a look that made her pale and jerk her hand back. She forced a shaking smile for the camera while the Dominants arranged themselves on the dais. Victor and Patrick stood on the lower ring and Mal took the top, although she looked none too happy about it.

“Tonight, our top Dominant is Mistress M, with her submissive, Beau, at her feet.”

Victor’s jaws were tight and his fingers white on the crop. Shiloh swallowed a heavy lump of guilt in her throat. It stung his pride to lose a single game. In the end, though, this loss would give the show more drama. He couldn’t win every single challenge effortlessly, or their Dallas viewers would cry foul.

In her opinion, of course, he’d already won top Dominant.

After the earlier refresher course on humility, Andy crawled up the steps and pressed his face against Mal’s boots. If she hadn’t been so upset about his likely betrayal, she might have stretched out the performance for the camera, but she merely called, “Cut!”

The lights came up and the crew milled about, a little surprised at how quickly she’d ended the scene. Andy actually looked a little scared. He didn’t get up immediately, and when Mal moved away, he clung to her ankle, earning another sharp kick to free herself.

“Mistress, what’s wrong? Have I offended you?”

Her jaws worked, her eyes dark with reproach. Victor came to her aid. “Sorry, Andy, she’s upset with me. I need all my editors working through the night to make sure the pilot is ready. Do you have friends you can hang out with tonight? I thought I’d just have Mal sleep over in my guest room so I could work her as late as possible.”

“Oh, sure, I was going to meet some friends after work tonight anyway. Are you going to have an opening night party, Mr. Connagher?”

“Of course,” Victor smiled, and Shiloh couldn’t help but shiver. Was Andy really that stupid? Couldn’t he see the shark swimming beneath the surface, mighty jaws at the ready to swallow him whole? “It’s tradition, isn’t it? My place, Friday night. We’ll watch the pilot together.”

Hours and days flew by in a blur of frantic work. Shiloh, Mal and Victor worked long into the night managing the thousands of details that would make or break the show. Victor fielded all the countless phone calls and public relations. Mal proved to be a godsend in the editing room, and she was more than willing to spend every waking moment at work so she wouldn’t think too much about Andy.

Shiloh worked herself into a stupor each day and then fell into Victor’s bed for another kind of blissful stupor. They made love each night, sweet and slow or hard and passionate, but they didn’t play BDSM games. She didn’t feel any lack, and evidently his needs had been met—at least temporarily—on the show.

Watching the pilot was surreal. She didn’t recognize herself masked and in costume, kneeling at the fierce masked man’s feet. She’d known Victor would be incredibly hot on the screen, but watching him and seeing the tightening of his eyes and mouth, the darkness flickering in his eyes, the quick, hard tug on his hair, all signaled how much he wanted her. How much the little scenes they played out turned him on.

She became so unbearably aroused that she felt swollen and achy, as though they hadn’t had sex for months. Years.

She suddenly understood why some people got off on voyeurism. Watching the trailer was enough to make her tremble and break out in a sweat. If he brought out his crop and smacked her with it, she’d come right here in the middle of thirty or more chatting guests. They couldn’t leave soon enough. They all applauded wildly after the credits rolled, and Shiloh’s eyes filled up with tears.

Her name, listed as creator and show runner. He’d given her full credit. She couldn’t imagine what KDSX would do with that little tidbit. Would people leap to all sorts of conclusions about her relationship with Victor? Could the gossip be any worse than it already was? Although those words printed out in black and white on the screen were proof that she was real, that the blog was real, and so her relationship with Victor Connaghter, CEO of VCONN, must also be real.

Grueling hours at the office had taken a toll on Victor’s knee. Grimacing, he rubbed it while he talked with Mal. Everyone else had left, but Shiloh couldn’t begrudge the other woman his time. Not with the difficulties she was experiencing with Andy.

“How am I supposed to pretend like nothing’s going on? Like I don’t know what he’s up to?”

Victor’s upper lip curled slightly as though he smelled something bad. “Pretend. Use your anger and hurt to punish him better than ever. That’s all he’ll care about.” He let out a short, harsh laugh. “You have the opposite problem I experienced with Kimberly. I don’t know if it’ll be easier to pretend you don’t need to punish him, or to pretend you’re punishing him with love and not real rage.”

As unobtrusively as possible, Shiloh knelt before him and began rubbing his knee. With a grateful smile, he stretched his leg out, making it easier for her massage. She kept her touch light and gentle on those sore muscles, slowly building up intensity.

“I don’t know how you did it for so long,” Mal said, shaking her head. “At first, I admired your ability to keep the dark side under lock and key.”

“And then?”

“Then I wanted to beat the shit out of you because I knew you couldn’t possibly hide forever, and Kimberly wasn’t the kind of woman who could deal with the Master.”

Shiloh bit her tongue to keep from blurting out,
I can deal with the Master. I’ll deal him all day, all night, any way he wants.

She ran her fingers down the sides of his bad knee, stretching those tendons with firm, long strokes of her fingers. His eyes fluttered, his breathing caught, just a slight hesitation, but she heard it. Keeping her head down, she made herself concentrate on her work and not what he might be feeling. Fears and doubts raced and tumbled in her mind like a frantic hamster running on its wheel.

Does he love me? Will he accept our relationship, both the normal sex and the darker side of pain we both crave? Or will he keep pushing that need away? Will we have to run season after season of
America’s Next Top sub
to get the relief we both need? Will he ever see his handiwork and feel as much pride in those bruises as I do?

As long as he kept the crop under lock and key, she knew she’d never have his full heart.

“I can see myself out,” Mal said as she stood. “Thanks for listening to me bitch and moan about Andy.”

“You’ve certainly listened to me often enough.”

Silent, Shiloh kept her head down and her fingers busy on Victor’s knee. His voice had lowered to a silky rumbling timbre that spoke of arousal and long hours of pleasure.

Or pain.

Mal laughed softly and gave her a friendly squeeze to her shoulder. “You’ve got magic hands, Shiloh. I haven’t seen the Master this relaxed in years.”

“I may not need surgery after all.”

At that compliment, she couldn’t help but jerk her gaze up to his face. “Really? It’s helping that much?”

His mouth quirked. “You’re helping all sorts of things. VCONN’s ratings. A shitty season with our front runner forced to cancel at the last minute. My bum knee.”

“A Master with a crop and no sub to enjoy it,” Mal added, with a slight emphasis on
enjoy
. “I’ll see you two Monday morning at eight o’clock and not a moment earlier than that, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Victor retorted in a voice that made his friend snort. They both knew who would top the other if they were ever forced to play together.

Shiloh moved her hands up slightly higher and gripped his thigh, drawing her fingers firmly down the long lines of muscle to his knee. He let out a groan and dropped his head against the back of his chair. Listening to Mal’s departing footsteps, the door shutting, his breathing deepening, Shiloh bit back the words and tears threatening to bubble up. Her heart ached in her chest, yearning to please him in all ways, even those he was too reluctant to bare. The same need gnawed deep inside her, sharp and relentless. Making love with him was wondrous, but sometimes…

Sometimes I need you to whip me with that wicked crop until I scream and beg and cry. I need you to hurt me, so good, so very, very good.

She couldn’t ask him, though. Not when it was so difficult for him.

She pulled her fingers down the upper curve of his calf, but his boot interfered. She gripped the heel of the cowboy boot and pulled it off, then the other, and he made no protest. Now she could work his calf and the tight tendons running down to his ankle. Every muscle and tendon would be strained to compensate for the weakened ones at his knee, even if they didn’t consciously hurt him.

When his leg was completely relaxed and putty in her hands, she leaned forward and pressed light, reverent kisses where she knew he bore the surgical scars. She rubbed her face on his thigh and trailed her fingers lightly up and down his calf, simply worshiping his strength and muscled power.

He dropped his hand to her head and rubbed her scalp gently. With silence in the house and the Master fully at ease before a romantic, dancing fire, she could cry for being so happy. So quickly, he’d become home to her. Family. This is where she belonged, and if he ever sent her away…

Her throat tightened and her eyes burned.

“What can I now do for you, baby?”

His voice sounded thick with sleep…or sex, although as relaxed as he felt beneath her hands and cheek, he was surely just tired. His fingers didn’t tighten in her hair. He made no move to drag her mouth to better use.

Tightening her arms around his leg, she hugged his thigh and relished the feel of muscle beneath her cheek. She hadn’t worked so hard to relax him, only now to ask for something that would make him tense and worry about how far she might push him. “Love me?”

He reached down and pulled her up into his lap. She tried to burrow into his neck—so he wouldn’t see the darkness in her eyes—but he wouldn’t let her hide. No, the Master could hide all he wanted, but he would never tolerate such dishonesty in his submissive.

She tried to make herself angry with him, but it didn’t work.

He kept his hands gentle, but she knew he had to see the truth written in her eyes.
If he doesn’t…then he can’t be my Master, no matter how much I want him to be.

The thought made her want to throw her head back and screech with grief at the top of her lungs.

“I do love you, baby. I know I haven’t said it out loud, but I’ve been trying to show you.”

His words only made her agony worse.
Show me how much you love me by bringing that crop into your bed. Rip the mask away and give me the real you, all you, all night, all weekend, the rest of our lives.