In the Middle (10 page)

“I’m yours,” she said, feeling as if the words were forced out of her, that she had no choice but to say them. And yet they seemed exactly right. She wanted to surrender to him, to the feelings coursing through her body, to her inner animal. He bent down and sucked her clit. That was too much.

She screamed as her body shook between the two men, not caring that she was drawing attention to herself. Her pussy squeezed around Rob’s fingers as her orgasm went on and on, coruscating through her.

Spike let her go as Rob took her in his arms, holding her. Her body was wet with sweat. She couldn’t believe she had come in front of all those people. Now at least Rob was shielding her from them. A naked woman in a collar came and asked for a martini and a scotch and water, so Spike turned his attention away. The woman glanced at her, and Louise averted her eyes, looking at Rob’s shoulders instead. In spite of all the people who’d seen her come, this moment was just for her and Rob.
My master.

He unhooked her bra, pulled it off her, and set it on the bar. Then he unzipped her skirt and pulled it off as well. Both seemed ridiculous now, protectors of a modesty she no longer had. “Mind keeping those behind the bar, Spike?” Rob asked when the bartender was done with the collared woman’s order. “We’ll come back for them later. I think she’s earned some private time.”

“Oh definitely.” Whether Spike was agreeing with keeping the clothes or that she deserved some private time or both, she wasn’t sure, but he did stash the bra and skirt behind the bar.

“We never did get you that drink, Lulu. What’s your poison?”

Like she needed any more to get rid of her inhibitions. Still, it would feel good to drink something. “Can I have a strawberry daiquiri?” She sat down on a bar stool.

“Of course.” Spike moved around the bar, efficiently gathering everything he needed. “Anything for you, Rob?”

“Just water.”

“If after Rob goes back to Chicago, you’re looking for a top to play with, Louise, let me know.” Spike nodded to Rob. “If it’s okay with you, of course.”

“It’s not,” Rob said sharply. Louise was surprised at his vehemence. “She’s mine.”

“Got it.” Spike kept the smile on his face. As he slid the daiquiri across the counter to Louise, he gave her a look that made her think the offer was open—presumably if Rob changed his mind.

Rob scowled. As soon as one hand was wrapped around the daiquiri, he grabbed the other. He almost pulled her from the stool. What’s with the caveman act? Louise wondered. He slowed down once they had managed to get a few steps away from the bar, which was good because she almost spilled her drink. She had forgotten for a second that she was stark naked except for stockings and heels in the middle of a bunch of strangers. It had seemed incredibly sexy a moment before but now felt entirely too vulnerable. “We need to talk,” she told Rob in a low but urgent voice.

He nodded. “Agreed. Hang on to your drink, and I’ll pick you up.” Louise barely had time to tighten her grip when she was suddenly in the air. She grinned. If a man was going to act like a caveman, he better have the muscles to back it up. She realized she was much less on view in his arms, his body blocking most of the wandering gazes. He was moving out of the ballroom, in any case.

She took a sip.
Might as well enjoy the ride.

He took her down the hall that ran through the west wing of the house. She noticed there were little signs on some of the doors. OCCUPIED, DO NOT DISTURB read one. OCCUPIED, COME IN AND WATCH read another. Rob found a room with no sign at all and managed to turn the doorknob without upending her.
Definitely points for style there.

Once he got her into the room, he set her on her feet. He took one of the signs from a pouch on the inside of the door and put it on the outside. She hoped it was the DO NOT DISTURB sign, but she wondered.

She took a moment to catch her bearings. It was furnished like a normal bedroom, if one ignored the cuffs chained to the bedposts and the matching cuffs secured to the walls. She was trying to figure out why she wasn’t angrier at Rob for his antics. The fact that his strength appealed to her as a woman was part of it. Having him get possessive about her was kind of hot, really. He’d never been horribly possessive online, just enough to let her know he cared. Now that they’d been together for one afternoon and one very lovely evening, something had changed.

“So what was that all about?” she asked. “We both know you’re going to go back to Chicago. Is Spike dangerous or something?” With that, she started to get steamed again. If Spike wasn’t to be trusted, Rob had no business letting him join in their play.
In our sex, dammit
. Even if he hadn’t gotten off, it sure had been sex for her.

“No, I’d trust Spike with my life.” Rob frowned. “I don’t know, Louise. I’m not sure I get it myself. Although about Chicago—well, there are possibilities.”

“You don’t mind Daniel.”

“Daniel isn’t a dom, Louise. I think deep down you know he never will be. He might pretend for you. But that’s not who he is, and he won’t be happy pretending all the time. You hang around the scene long enough, you start to read people. And my read is that you’re a submissive, online or not. And so is he. So no, I don’t actually see him as competition.”

“Daniel is no wimp.” Now he’d really pissed her off.

“Submissives generally aren’t.” Rob shrugged. “Okay, I’ve known some who are. I used to think male submissives were a sniveling lot, but I’ve met a few who have changed my mind. This one guy I knew was—still is, I assume—tougher than anyone. He played mostly with guys, big muscular guys, but I think that was only because he hadn’t found a woman who could swing a whip hard enough. Even with those big guys, if they betrayed his trust, they knew they’d be looking at a knuckle sandwich once he got free. Being a submissive takes strength, Louise. Not the ability to bend your will, but the ability to bend without breaking. I said Daniel was a sub, not that he was any less of a man for it. But I still don’t see a sub as competition. Not for you.”

She took a sip of her daiquiri and considered that for a moment. Daniel was trustworthy and brave. And he loved her. She’d tried to hide from that, pretending she didn’t see the look in his eyes, but the other afternoon had proved it. He’d been right there at the hotel, ready to rescue her.

Rob was right about him not being a dom, but he’d been willing to try. Twice. For her. Daniel offered her the possibility of a future. Rob was a weekend. Maybe he was hinting that he’d be more than a weekend. How could she choose if it came to that?

Rob kissed her, and she barely managed to keep her daiquiri upright. There weren’t any dressers in this room, she realized, nothing to put her drink on. It wasn’t a place anyone slept. Just a place for raw sex, and pressed up against Rob as she was, that sounded good. She could feel his hardness through his jeans. He still hadn’t gotten off with her yet, although he’d been plenty aroused. Now the thought of that hard cock inside her made her horny all over again, as if she hadn’t just had a wonderful orgasm.

She wanted to go to her knees. Whatever was going to happen with her, Rob, and Daniel, this weekend wouldn’t last forever. She was going to enjoy it, let herself sink into it as much as she could. To be able to submit felt wonderful, all the decisions taken off her back, the need to compete for self-satisfaction given up as well. As if Rob sensed her need, he took the cocktail from her, now only a quarter full. She knelt in front of him and looked up. There was something in his eyes she definitely liked—approval and wonder. The floor was carpeted, but it wasn’t precisely comfortable on her knees. But she didn’t want to be comfortable. She wanted to submit. To be totally his and to lose herself in the process, knowing she’d be safely her own person in the morning.

She spread her legs apart and then stretched them farther, until the muscles in her thighs felt the stretch acutely. She wished to conceal nothing. She arched her back, pushing her breasts upward for his pleasure.

He unzipped his jeans. His cock was long, thick, and heavily veined. She opened her mouth, in case he wanted to use her that way. The complexities of her relationships faded away in the simplicity of it all. She was simply totally his for the evening.

He moved forward, rubbing his cock against her lips. She stretched out her tongue, lapping at the head. Not until he pushed his way into her mouth did she feel free to take the initiative. She took him as deeply as she could, almost choking on him. He was too thick and too long to get all the way in. His fingers tightened around her hair, and she felt the control that gave him. He could force himself down her throat if he wished. He could pull her off too. For now, however, he was content to let her set a rhythm. She glided her lips over his shaft, squeezing it tightly as she withdrew, licking it, and wetting it when she engulfed it once more.

“Good God, your mouth is heaven.”

She’d never thought so. Guys liked it, sure. But it had never been her favorite thing to do, and she always saw it as foreplay, never the main event. Her mind always drifted somewhere else. But he’d have to pull her off to get her to stop now, even if it meant he came in her mouth.

He placed his other hand on her head but didn’t push. She felt him getting even bigger and tasted the salty-sweet taste of his precum. It burned like scotch as she swallowed it. She wanted more. Each breath she took was full of him, full of sex and musk. She was getting turned on by what she was doing, but she didn’t want this to be about her pleasure. She wanted to serve.

His cock throbbed, and she knew he was almost there. He relaxed his grip on her hair, as if to let her know it wasn’t something she had to do. She didn’t want to have the choice. But she sucked him in, and suddenly her mouth was flooded, a spurt hitting the back of her throat. She swallowed it down, but there was more, the taste sharp on her tongue. It was almost too much to take, and she’d never claim it tasted pleasant, but as with her kneeling, pleasant wasn’t the point. She wanted to give him everything, so she swallowed all she could.

When he was finished, he pulled on her hair, tilting her head back. The stress at her scalp accentuated the feeling of his control. Knowing he was watching, she licked up a little cum that had dribbled onto her chin. Having her head tilted back actually made it easier to swallow, even though it burned her throat. He placed the edge of her daiquiri glass against her lips and let her sip, clearing some of the taste in her mouth, mellowing it. She found herself smiling up at him.
I did it.

He crouched down next to her and kissed her, hard and deep. She was sure he could taste himself on her tongue, as well as the sour-sweet tang of the daiquiri. But he didn’t seem to mind either.

“Up on the bed,” he ordered when at last their lips parted. It wasn’t a voice that accepted no for an answer, and she scurried to follow directions. Once she was there, he strapped the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, spread-eagling her on the bed.

She watched him undress. This time he didn’t stop at his shirt and shoes and socks but took his pants off as well. She admired the sharp definition of his muscles. His cock was starting to recover already too, half-stiff again and showing hints of its full size. They weren’t done, obviously. He put a condom in its wrapper on the bed.

He straddled her, supporting himself with strong thigh muscles so that very little of his weight was actually on her. He scraped his fingernails down her sides, sending tingles running into her core. The tip of his cock nudged her left breast. She thought about centering it, sliding down and pressing her tits around it to see what reaction she’d get, but when she moved her hands, they jerked to a halt with a clanking of chains. His cock twitched against her.

“Struggling, dear? It won’t do you any good. The bed and chains are sturdy. The only key is your safe word.”

Well, if he likes my struggling that much, I’ll do it again
. She pulled both her wrists and her legs against the chains. She growled at him playfully. She’d forgotten what she wanted her hands for; rattling the chains was its own pleasure.

“Like a trapped animal, are you?” He ran his fingers over her torso. His touch felt erotic wherever it went, as if all of her was connected to her pussy. Her body was one big erogenous zone. She wanted that cock inside her, but she was determined not to ask for it. Whatever he wanted, that’s what they would do.

His cock hardened more, a stiff pole against her stomach. He shifted back until he had to move his legs inside hers because her thighs were too far spread to straddle.

He tore open the foil wrapper and rolled the condom over his magnificent cock. Then without any more warning, he plunged into her pussy, filling and stretching her. She moaned and pulled against her bonds, wanting to wrap her arms and legs around him. The rattling metal strangely comforted her. She wasn’t going anywhere. There was no escaping getting what she wanted.

He stretched himself over her, the hair on his chest rough against her breasts. Everywhere he touched her felt like it was in a pleasurable fire: breasts, thighs, pussy. He bent so as to suck in one tender nipple, and she felt flutter in her core.

“I didn’t give you permission yet, my pet.”

She blushed. It had been a small tremor, a hint of bigger things to come. Did that count? But obviously, he’d felt it and had come to his own conclusion. “Yes, Master.”

“Don’t come until I tell you to.”

Like she could control it. She’d try, though. She didn’t want him disappointed in her; that would hurt worse than any punishment he might mete out. The strange thing was that now that she’d been told she wasn’t allowed, each thrust, each pull on her nipples, each bump against her clit, all felt even more intense. The tension rose inside her until she thought she was going to explode.

I mustn’t.

She tried to hold it back, tried to think about something else. Not the man moving inside her. Not what she mustn’t do. Not the bonds on her wrists. There wasn’t any safe port in the storm raging in her mind, and trying not to think of coming was impossible. She teetered on the edge, grabbing the sheets in an attempt to hold on to the sensation without release.