Sanctuary (9 page)

“Wherever did you find one so innocent? Yet look at the way she goes down on her knees as though it's the most natural thing in the world. She's meant for this.”

“You'll have to let me get my hands on her someday, eh, Shaye?”

Her head was spinning. And then they began to touch her. Shocking, even though he'd told her to expect it. Hands on her thighs, her shoulders, touching her hair. When a woman pried her lips open with her fingers, then her teeth, she gasped, but Shaye was quick to lay a reassuring hand on her head. “Shh, Devin. Take it. You can do it.”

Yes, anything for him, even this humiliation. She would think later about the small part of her that loved it.

More hands on her, her nipples peaking hard as someone lifted and weighed her breasts. Then a low, female voice.

“Time for the real test, don't you think, Shaye?”

“The honor is yours, Alana.”

Devin was surrounded by a faint cloud of perfume, dark and spicy, then a woman's soft fingers slipped between her thighs and slid right into her wet heat.

Her breath came out on a soft “oh”. She didn't dare move, but her body shook all over. With shock, with desire.

The woman's voice again. “Perfect.”

Then those same soft fingers lifting her chin. She stared into a pair of sharp blue eyes set into a lovely, feminine face with high cheekbones, full scarlet lips. The face of a woman of perhaps a well-held fifty.

The woman—Alana—said, “You are a little beauty, aren't you? I approve. He'd be wise to collar you quickly.” She smiled, released Devin's chin.

Collar me?

Oh yes!

She wasn't quite sure she understood what that meant. To be owned, yes, but what else?

Suddenly she couldn't stand the idea of anyone else touching her. And as though he could read her thoughts Shaye laid a hand on the back of her neck once more. She knew it was him, knew his sure, warm touch. Her muscles let loose again and she relaxed into his hand.

“Up now, Devin, and we'll watch a scene together.”

She rose to her feet, a little dizzy, and Shaye steadied her. Was this really happening?

He led her across the floor. She kept her hands clasped behind her back, her head down, but still she caught glimpses of high, arched doorways, a fleur-de-lis pattern on the cream-and-gold wallpaper, enormous, ornately gilded mirrors, gorgeous antique furniture everywhere.

They went through a wide hallway and into another marble-floored room. Shaye sat down on a low, velvet-covered loveseat, and she knew enough to settle to her knees at his feet. He leaned over her, his large hand snaking around her neck. “Good girl. Watch now, Devin.”

His hand drifted down, caressed her breast, and her nipple came up rock hard. A small, wicked laugh and a sharp pinch from him before he withdrew his hand and settled back into his chair. She wanted to cry, suddenly, so keen was her need for his touch. She pulled in a deep breath, commanded herself to calm.

The lights dimmed and then went brighter at one end of the room, which was set up as a kind of stage. Against a backdrop of an enormous marble fireplace, the mantle intricately carved, was a high, padded bench. Strapped to it was a young woman on her back with long waves of pale blonde hair. She had a tiny, delicate waist, large, full breasts. Devin ached simply looking at her, shivered at the sight of the black leather gag across her mouth, stretching the woman's lips. She didn't know if the sight frightened her or made her want to be up there, to be that girl, displayed and subjugated before the crowd.

God.

Another naked woman stood to one side, a beautiful girl with dark, tawny skin and close-cut curling hair. She had the large, dark, luminous eyes of a doe. The beautiful and imposing Alana stood over the blonde on the table. She seemed to be entirely focused on her, to have blocked out the crowd as she stroked the girl's body with her hands. Devin could see the blonde's nipples swell, felt her own sex swell in response. Then Alana picked up a small bristle brush from a tray offered by the darker girl and began to run it over the blonde's skin, which quickly turned pink. Devin could imagine what the brush must feel like, how it would bring the blood to the surface of the skin.

She watched as Alana drew the brush harder over the girl's body: her breasts, stomach, thighs, until the blonde was gasping and writhing on the table. Alana stopped.

The other girl came to the table once more, a tall pillar candle in her hands, the flame flickering gently. Alana took the candle, nodded, and the girl retreated. She played with the candle for several minutes, swirling the melted wax as it pooled in the center. She bent over the blonde, whispered something to her, and Devin saw her nod. Alana held the candle over her prone body. Devin's heart clutched, then tumbled in her chest as Alana spilled a small pool of wax onto the girl's stomach. She arched, moaned. There was a small flutter of sound from the audience. Shaye's hand flexed on her shoulder.

“Watch now, Devin. This is something I'll do to you someday.”

A prickle of delighted fear at that lovely threat.

Yes, anything for you.

She meant it, knew it down deep. How was it possible, with a man she'd known for only a matter of weeks? But she trusted him utterly, more than any man she'd ever known. How else could she be there with him?

She watched as Alana paused a moment, holding the candle aloft, then let a stream of melted wax fall onto the blonde's breasts. This time the girl yelped and came up off the table, her body arching hard.

Devin scooted closer to Shaye's leg, her blood pounding in her veins. Excitement coursed through her. She wanted that pain, wanted to feel what this woman was feeling. And the need itself frightened her.

Seeming to sense her panic, Shaye pulled Devin up and into his lap. She looked into his eyes and saw the desire there, the excitement that matched her own. And beneath her naked bottom she felt the hard ridge of his arousal pressing into her flesh.

God, to have him inside her now, even here, in front of all these people…

“Does this excite you, Devin?” he asked her quietly, his mouth so close to her ear she could feel his warm breath.

She nodded, her mouth too dry to answer.

“Watch. There's more to come.”

She stayed in his lap, her body buzzing with lust at the solid feel of him, at his dizzying scent, at the scene going on before them like some sort of wickedly sensual theater. She swore she could smell the sweet, pungent scent of Shaye's excitement.

She needed him to touch her, to play her, to give her pain. She needed to please him, to show him how much she wanted this one thing. A soft little moan escaped her.

“I feel your need,” he told her. “Do you feel mine?”

He shifted his hips, pressed his hard cock closer into her flesh. Steel hard, and she swore she could feel him throbbing even through the fabric of his slacks. She closed her eyes and let that strong pulse reverberate through her system.

Please…

“We'll go now,” he said suddenly.

Go? She wanted to cry, to demand of him why they were leaving so soon. She'd been sure he would play with her here, in this amazing place, in this sanctuary of the sensually deviant. Yes, some part of her still viewed it that way, but it only made what they did more alluring.

He lifted her from his lap, stood beside her. He whispered into her hair, “I have to get you out of here, Devin, before I lose all semblance of control. I need to take you someplace where I can touch you, where I can have you all to myself.”

The disappointment blooming in her chest shifted, heated, until her sex was pulsing, her breasts aching. Suddenly she couldn't wait to leave, as fascinating as this place was to her.

She kept her head down, her eyes averted, her hands clasped demurely behind her back. Funny to think of any of this as “demure”. Naked and under Shaye's command as she was, she was as eager as a cat in heat.

They reached the foyer and the two slave girls quickly dressed her again, but she hardly noticed. All she could think about were his words:
“touch you…have you all to myself.”
Yes, that's exactly what she craved.

Shaye took her outside, one strong arm around her waist as they waited for the valet to bring his car.

During the silent drive he kept a hand on her thigh when he wasn't busy shifting. She couldn't stop the faint trembling in her body. She was too excited—beyond excited, really. Even though Shaye hadn't played her at Sanctuary, even though she'd been little more than an observer, she felt as she did after he'd spanked her, made her come. Light-headed, exhilarated. Shocked at how submissive she felt simply being naked, being told to kneel. How much more submissive she felt just being in those surroundings, as though allowing other people to know made it more true, somehow.

They arrived at her apartment and he slid the BMW into a rare open parking space, made her sit in the car while he went around the other side to help her out. He didn't take his hands off her as they rode the old elevator up. She thought he might kiss her in there. Wanted him to. But he only looked at her with that intense gaze of his, his eyes holding a golden glow, like dark honey lit from within.

Once in her apartment she stood just inside the entrance while Shaye took off his trench coat and dropped it over the back of a chair. She felt unable to move of her own accord, as though she needed his touch to guide her. And she was shivering all over with desire, with the exquisite anticipation of what he might do to her.

He came to her, and just as he had that first night, he backed her up against the door. But this time he simply stood and pressed the solid planes of his body against hers. Gripping her shoulders almost painfully, he looked hard into her eyes. His gaze was dark, searching her face before darting down to her mouth. He licked his lower lip and she thought he'd kiss her, but his gaze moved back to hers and his hands slid gently up to her face. He stroked her cheeks, her lips, her throat.

The intensity in his eyes confused her. And his tender touch made her heart throb in her chest, made her yearn even more for him to kiss her.

He leaned in a fraction of an inch, his breath was warm and sweet on her face. Her lips parted in invitation, her pulse a low, insistent throb.

But he slid his hands down to her shoulders again, used his body to press her hard against the door at her back until she could barely breathe, gripped her shoulders again in that sharp, hurting grasp. She watched his face—his features had gone soft in a way she'd never seen before. She didn't know what it meant, only what she
hoped
it meant, this alternately brutal and tender touch. The expression on his face.

God, please kiss me…

When he looked up at her again, held her face in his hands, she wanted to cry. Why was he doing this to her? Torturing her, holding back, making her mind and her body whirl with the possibilities?

He leaned in once more, until she felt the whispering tickle of his dark goatee on her skin. His mouth was so close. She tilted her chin, but he shifted away, leaned his forehead against hers.

She really did want to cry now.

She asked quietly, “Shaye…are you ever going to kiss me?”

His voice was a rough whisper. “Yes.”

Chapter Eight

He shifted and his mouth brushed against hers, a soft feathering of lips. He did it again, and again, all the while holding her face in his hands as though she were a precious thing. His lips were so soft. How could any man have lips this soft and plush? The gentleness of his kisses went right to her heart, making it swell and ache as much as her sex did, until she was a confused mass of sensation and emotion.

A small sob escaped her lips.

“Ah, Devin.”

He took her face more firmly then, crushed his lips to hers, opened her mouth and dove inside.

His tongue was hot against hers, twining, searching. And she was no longer in the role of submissive. She was simply a woman with a man she was falling for like a thousand stars falling through the night sky.

Her arms wound around his neck. As hard as he pressed her against the door, so hard she could barely breathe, it wasn't enough. She needed to be closer. She couldn't take it anymore.

She pulled back, and once more he gazed into her eyes as though he could see into her soul. Tears stung at the back of her eyes, brimmed against her lashes. She blinked, hard. He pulled her in closer, holding her head against his shoulder. She could feel the panting rhythm of his breath.

He said in a low tone, “Goddamn it, Devin. I can't do this to you. But I can't fucking help it anymore. I tried…”

She lifted her head, shook it mutely. What did this mean? Would he leave her there, like this? Wanting, needy, breathless. A tear spilled down her cheek.

“I can't…hell, I can't
not
…” he muttered, before he bent and pressed his lips to hers once more.

The kiss was harder this time, his tongue driving into her mouth. His hands were everywhere: on her waist, sliding up over her ribs, cupping her breasts. He held his hips hard against her, his solid erection pushing into her belly. She moaned into the wet heat of his mouth as he began to pull her clothes off, then his own.

Soon they were naked, still shoved up against the door. She couldn't believe how his body felt on hers, naked skin to naked skin.

Every nerve in her body was singing. Her sex pulsed with raw, aching desire as he slid one hand down, pushed two fingers inside her. Her hips bucked into his hand, and he shifted to press his thumb against her clitoris. He never took his mouth from hers—they breathed into each other. She thought briefly, wildly, that this was the most erotic moment of her life.

When she took his swollen cock in her hand he groaned. God, he was big. The velvet weight of it in her hand hit her like a blow that reverberated pure sex through her system—every limb, every part of her. And that wicked ring piercing his flesh was kink in itself.

She ran her other hand all over him: his arms, shoulders, buttocks. He was taut, steel-hard muscle everywhere she touched. Lovely.

He moved his mouth lower and sucked at that tender spot at the base of her neck, sending ripples of pleasure through her. She gave his cock a long, slow stroke, then another, moving in rhythm with his fingers inside her, with the circling of his thumb against her clit. She was so close…

“Jesus, Devin.”

“Please, Shaye. Please. I need you.”

“Yes,” he murmured, then held her ass in his strong hands and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him, her sex soft and open to the probing head of his cock. Then he slid right in, impaling her.

She gasped at the size of him, filling her, stretching her, so damn good without a condom, now that they didn't need one to separate their flesh. It hurt almost as much as it felt good, his piercing pressing against her g-spot, driving pleasure higher, bringing its own small pain. It didn't matter. The pain and the pleasure were all one thing to her.

He gave her a moment, held still, his cock buried deep inside her. They were both panting, and her body was filling up with desire like a flood of molten heat. When he moved his hips, pulling out of her, then sliding slowly back in, she moaned. So did he. Tremors of excitement ran through her, starting low in her sex, moving deeply into her body, spreading through her stomach, her breasts, her arms and legs.

Then he really began to pump into her. She held on tight to his shoulders, her body awash in pleasure, sharp stinging currents running through her.

It wasn't long before that pleasure crested, peaked, and she couldn't hold back anymore. Her body exploded with a blistering heat, her sex clenching, her breath coming in ragged gasps. And before it was over Shaye groaned, his muscles tensing, and he rammed into her harder than ever, driving her climax on in deep, shuddering waves.

He collapsed with her against the door, still inside her body, still holding her up, his arms strong around her. She trembled all over with the last remnants of her orgasm.

“Come on,” he said. “I'm taking you to bed and doing this properly.”

All she could do was smile as he carried her, wrapped around his body like a snake, into her darkened bedroom.

Sunday morning. Shaye stretched, opened his eyes to the dim morning light. He glanced at the clock. Not quite eight. He was surprised he hadn't slept longer. He'd stayed up making love to Devin until nearly four.

Making love? Is that what it had been?

Jesus.

He was in deep fucking trouble here.

He glanced over at Devin's sleeping face. She was too beautiful to be believed. So damn innocent in sleep. Not much more than when she was awake, really, which was part of the attraction. But there was a hell of a lot more to it than that. Last night had proved it, if he hadn't known it before.

Why the hell had he slept with her? He'd known he shouldn't do it. Known he should never have taken her to Sanctuary. He knew what the rules were there: if he brought her there once, if she liked it, wanted it, then he would have to collar her before he took her back. He'd had the members' approval of her, no doubt about it. He could take her back. But if he did, it would mean she belonged to him. It would mean the kind of commitment he'd never made to a woman in his life. One he never
should
make.

He was never going to end up broken and bleeding—ruined—like his father had. He refused. Or he had until now, goddamn it.

He'd really fucked up this time. And now Devin would have to pay the price as much as he would. He could see it in her. She didn't even try to hide her feelings. He knew last night had meant something to her. Hell, it had meant something to him too. That was the fucking problem.

As he watched her tranquil features, her long lashes fluttered, opened, and her liquid green eyes stared up at him. She smiled. It went through him like a knife to the heart.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Her voice was soft with sleep. She raised her arms over her head, stretched, the sheet falling away to reveal one perfect breast, a flawless globe of milk-white flesh tipped in a lush, pink nub. His cock hardened.

Get yourself under control, man.

Yes, control. That's what was required here, before he gave in to his need for this woman. A need that raced through his veins like fire. That hammered at his mind so he could barely think straight anymore.

He reached out, stroked a long strand of silky red hair from her face, but he had to pull his hand back at the jolt of emotion that went through him like an electric shock.

He couldn't do this.

He had to leave. Just…get out of there. Clear his head.

“Hey, I'm gonna go,” he told her.

“Go?” She sat up in bed, the sheet falling completely away now. He tried not to look at the luscious mounds of her breasts.

“Yeah. I have work to do.” He got out of bed and stood, feeling oddly naked, even though being naked had never bothered him before.

“But it's Sunday.”

“Yeah, well…” he trailed off as he went into the living room, found his discarded clothes and slipped back into his boxers, his slacks. He drew his shirt over his arms, didn't bother to button it.

He went back into the bedroom. Devin was up now, wearing a short champagne-colored silk kimono that was falling off one shoulder. Her hair fell in a smooth curtain against the silk, a gorgeous contrast.

“Shaye? Is there something else going on?”

He could hear the edge of panic in her voice, felt it himself.

“I have to get going.”

“I don't understand.”

He paused, ran a hand over his hair. “Yeah, neither do I.”

He started to turn away, to go back into the living room to find his shoes, but she put a hand on his arm.

“Shaye, you have to talk to me.”

Fuck. She was right. He owed her better than this. He bit down hard on his lip.

“Okay. Okay.” He turned back to face her, saw the emotion on her face. It made him feel like a criminal.

He scrubbed a hand over his hair once more. “Look, Devin, things are pretty damn intense between us. Too intense.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying I'm not made for this stuff. Relationships. Commitment. And that's what it would have to be between us.”

“Why not?”

A damn good question. He paused, blew out a long breath. “I was raised to be…I was raised with the idea that this is how a man operates. That committing myself to any one woman is suicide. This is what I know, Devin. Not being in a relationship. Anything else is…impossible for me.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Not if you grew up with my father.”

She shook her head. “I'm sorry for whatever you went through with your dad. But that doesn't mean you have to buy into that idea.”

He could feel the cold hardening inside him as his walls went up. “I've seen what can happen when you don't. I saw what he went through after my mom died. And I saw his solution. It's worked for him. It's always worked for me.”

“Oh, Shaye…”

“Don't. I don't need anyone's pity, Devin. Especially yours.” Why was he so angry suddenly? He had to get the hell out of there. “I need to go.”

“Shaye, please.”

But he hardly heard her through the heavy gray fog clouding his brain. He grabbed his shoes on the way out the door and almost ran the four floors down to his car. His hands shook as he tried to click the key fob to unlock the door. Finally he managed it, got in and sped off into the dark, damp morning.

Devin could not believe what had just happened. Last night had been the most supremely wonderful night of her life, and now…this.

Her chest ached as though she were weighted down with stones, and the tears fell, fast and furious.

What had he said about his father? She could piece it together well enough. That his father had turned into some kind of womanizer after his mother's death in order to protect himself. That the man had vowed never to allow himself to be hurt by becoming attached to a woman who might leave, one way or another. She got that. But despite the way his father had raised him, these absurd things he seemed to believe, Shaye felt something for her. She knew it as thoroughly as she knew what was in her own heart.

What she didn't get was, if he felt anything even close to what she was feeling, how could he possibly walk away? How could he do this to her? To himself? And what, if anything, could she do now?

She was too hurt, too shattered, to even think straight. She needed help.

She picked up the phone and dialed Kimmie's number.

Her friend answered in a sleep-fogged voice. “Hello?”

“Kimmie, it's me. I'm sorry to wake you. I'm sorry—” Her voice broke on a sob.

“Devin? What's wrong? Are you okay?”

The tears poured over her hot cheeks. “No. I'm not okay. Right now I don't know if I ever will be again.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Oh God, Kimmie, there's so much I haven't told you.”

“You can tell me now, Dev,” her friend soothed.

“I haven't even called you for weeks. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. Just tell me what's going on.”

“I don't know where to start.” She pulled a handful of tissues from the box beside her bed, blew her nose. “Remember that guy I saw at the Ring that night with you?”

“Yeah, the hot one with the goatee?”

“Yes. Shaye. Kimmie, I've been seeing him and we've been…I've done some experimenting with him. No, it's more than that, to be perfectly honest. I've gone into this…into the whole BDSM thing full force. And I love it. I feel like it's opened this part of myself I never even knew was there. A part that
needed
opening, you know? There's something in me that had to just let go for once. But there's so much more to it than even that. There's this incredible, intense connection with him, something on a very deep level. Something unlike anything I've ever experienced before. And I…I've fallen so hard for him. Unbelievable after only a few weeks, but everything is so much sharper, so much deeper with the domination and submission elements. You
have
to connect to make it work. And we did and now…he's gone.”

“Oh, honey.”

“And the worst part is,” she went on, her throat so tight she had to force the words out, “I know he has feelings for me too. I could see it in everything he did, everything he said. The way he looked at me.” She had to pause, to take in a deep breath at the memory of his eyes, those deep, hazel eyes that held so much. The tears wanted to come again, but she held them back. “I know that's what drove him away, that he felt something for me. How fucking tragic is that?”

Kimmie was silent a moment. Then she said quietly, “Just because he left doesn't necessarily mean you have to let him go. You're a strong woman, Devin, not some passive mouse who lies down and takes whatever the world dishes out, submissive tendencies aside. This is different. I mean, if you got anything out of having to deal with your mother growing up, you got that strength.”