Slave to Love (39 page)

The quiet rasp of metal teeth drowned out the sounds of the room and the whispering of her inner fears, zeroing her focus in on just one thing.

Her lover’s pleasure.

She grasped him, pulled his long, thick cock through the opening of his trousers, thrilling to its impressive proportions.

A moan hummed through her throat as she parted her lips to receive him. She sent her tongue out to greet his flesh, sucked him deep into her mouth and felt his low groan vibrate through her body.

It was all about fulfilling fantasies
.

And this was his. Showing her off, claiming her in the sight of others, making her prove her devotion in ways most women wouldn’t dare consider. And by doing all he asked, by submitting totally to the man she loved, she earned his unwavering devotion to her, and bound him to her as surely as did his collar locked about her neck.

She wanted to own him, just as he already owned her— completely.

The onlookers stood hypnotized, ravenously watching her every move. She knew each man fantasized that she knelt naked and adoring at his own feet instead of Mick’s, giving him the blowjob of his life.

The sway she held over every one of these men was awesome. She craved it. She reveled in it. She felt it in the tight thread of burning desire that pulled like a hot coil from her nipples to her clit.

She looked up, into Mick’s droop-lidded, sex-laden eyes, and posed for his visual pleasure. Knowing exactly what it would do to him. Between lips she’d painted his favorite shade of red, she extended her tongue and slowly licked up the hard ridge of his erection, gathering a heavy droplet from the very tip, letting it ooze over her taste buds.

In her hair, his fingers shook.

Wrapping one hand around his shaft, the other around his hard-drawn balls, she sucked him in and laved his steely cock for long minutes. Tasting him, breathing in the musk of his desire for her. Feeling the strength of his indomitable maleness.

Knowing she controlled it all, even as he held her in his iron grip. Even as she was his slave.

His nails dug into her scalp. A rumbling growl started far down in his throat. It built and lengthened as she lovingly stroked his shaft up and down, up and down, at the same time she suckled the distended head. And came out as a roar when she pulled him in as deep she could, gently squeezing his sac.

The salty taste of him exploded into her mouth.

***

For several moments there was again silence in the room, except for the harsh intake of Mick’s breath and the loud hammering of her heart. With a shiver, Caro swallowed his essence as he moved away. He took his time putting himself in order and straightening his pants while she wobbled there on her knees. Unsteady, yet strangely exultant.

Tim had once said that bondage and domination play was largely based on the type of deep-seated erotic tension she was experiencing. The push and pull of control, the clash of wills. Who was top and who was bottom, and how those roles were gained and enforced. In other words, power sex.

At the Tether Club the final outcome was a given, the order of things inherent in the rules. For the Dominant men and submissive women attending, the real fantasy was in getting there. Or in watching the exhilarating playing out of that struggle in others.

She’d had no idea just how exhilarating it could be.

Mick’s daunting eyes were still on her when she glanced up. Despite the overlay of languid satisfaction, they gleamed icy blue and sharp with awareness of everything around him. And told her he’d missed nothing. That he’d felt her fears and had seen her triumph. That he understood he was as helpless as she against whatever this thing was they were enmeshed in. But that he had no intention of relinquishing his position of dominance.

He was Top. She was bottom. Regardless of her newfound insights.

Caro shuddered and pressed her thighs together against a sudden, gnawing need to feel him there, deep inside her. Even greater was her need to show Mick she was truly his, body and soul. That she finally understood and accepted his liberating power over her. That she loved it, as she loved him.

“Did I please you, Sir?” she asked, praying he would reward her with his own acceptance. She didn’t care how he did it, or if it was in front of a hundred witnesses. Her craving for his reassurance was physical, and achingly painful.

He traced the line of her jaw as he considered his answer.

“Your mouth pleased me,” he said, brushing her lower lip. “But this was scarcely a punishment for you.”

She couldn’t deny it. She loved pleasuring him in this way. The taste of him, the sensation of him deep in her throat, never failed to bring her to the brink of orgasm. And he knew it.

What he might not sense was the change in her. How she wished to submit to his possession. Her mind searched for the words to tell him.

But before she could formulate the thought, the front door sailed open.

Everyone in the room looked over to see who it was. Caro’s heart literally stopped in her chest as a man strode into the foyer, jerking her violently back to reality.

Smythe.

Chapter 26

Their number one suspect halted at the top of the steps, leering down at the room like he owned the place. Behind him, two women approached and slid their arms around him. Shock coursed through Caro as she recognized Lauren Adams and her friend Rebecca.

They were both nude. Black shoes, leather collar and a pink-lipped giggle were Rebecca’s only adornments. Lauren had added a pair of handcuffs, both bracelets locked decoratively on her left wrist, but was otherwise identically undressed.

Mick lifted Caro to her feet before the trio spotted them. In her peripheral vision she saw Bobby and Cody. Both tall, muscular and handsome, the two men were already surrounded by a bevy of adoring female supplicants. When they saw Smythe they came to attention.

Bobby lifted his brow. Mick’s slight nod sent them off to lose themselves in the burgeoning crowd, presumably to enjoy whatever indulgences took their fancy as they shadowed Smythe’s every move for the rest of the night. To be sure the bastard didn’t slip through their grasp like last night. As he moved away, Cody sent her a searing look. She didn’t want to think about what it meant.

She dismissed him and turned back to Mick, gathering herself mentally. His facial expression was unreadable as he glanced at Lauren and Rebecca, but the chill in his eyes could freeze a person in their tracks.

What were they thinking? Lauren was an ex-cop; didn’t she sense how dangerous Smythe was? Hadn’t anyone told her that Smythe was their prime suspect? Even if they hadn’t, Caro found it inconceivable that Lauren couldn’t see past Rick’s friendly-security-guy façade to the evil beneath. Even before pegging Rick as Smythe he’d given Caro the creeps big-time. Was Lauren so ensnared in her vicious cycle of violent relationships that Smythe unconsciously fulfilled an ever-increasing sick need for abuse? Caro didn’t want to think about that, either.

Mick turned to her and took her face in his hands, forcing her attention back to him. He gave her a long, demanding kiss.

“Ignore them,” he ordered quietly, and kissed her again, letting his hands wander over her body, making her melt against him. “Let them come to us.”

It didn’t take long. She felt their eyes on her, on her brazen nakedness, even before she heard their greetings.

“Well, if it isn’t Master Michael and his little slave girl,” Lauren said in a teasing purr, sidling up to Mick and pressing her bare breasts against his arm.

The whole situation was surreal. Caro and the other two women feigned nonchalance, like being naked sex objects in a room full of clothed, staring men was perfectly natural. The frightening part was, it did feel somewhat natural. And unbelievably arousing. Like making love in front of that window, except much more immediate.

“I can’t get over how cute the leash is,” Rebecca said, running her fingers down the slim chain that spilled over Caro’s shoulder, tip-toeing over Mick’s hand as he held the end at his side. “So kinky.” She struck a flirtatious pose against Smythe while caressing Mick’s arm.

“Looks like we hit the wet dream jackpot, pal,” Smythe said with a lecherous grin. He reached over and patted Caro’s bottom. She jerked back.

“Don’t touch my woman without permission,” Mick said coldly. “You can look, but don’t touch.”

Smythe stepped back in mock surrender. “Sorry, pal. But you feel free to touch my harem girls all you want. Though, I guess you’ve already done one of them, what I hear.”

“You heard wrong, but I’m still not interested.” She felt the effort it took for Mick to relax his rigid muscles. “Got my hands full already, if you know what I mean.”

He turned her in his arms so she faced the others. Showing her off. Despite his tenseness, she could also feel his excitement as he indulged in one of his favorite fantasies—displaying her, then claiming her, proving his power over her to all who watched.

Which she knew also happened to be the best way to lure the Teddie Killer into their trap. Because playing the voyeur to that kind of power, then snuffing it out, seemed to be
his
favorite fantasy.

She nestled back into Mick’s embrace, satisfied to let him run the encounter. But ready to reach out and kill Smythe with her bare hands to protect her man if need be. Mick had called her his woman. That ran both ways.

 Smythe’s greedy eyes slathered over her, loitering on her painted nipples and smooth mound. “I know just what you mean, pal. She’s real special.”

Caro’s stomach turned. The man made her want to vomit—right after she pushed him under a bus. She eyed Lauren, wondering what her game was. Surely she couldn’t be attracted to such a vile dreg of humanity. Visions of the Teddie victims did a macabre dance in Caro’s head and she had to clutch Mick’s hand for support.

“How sweet,” Lauren purred acidly, observing the movement. “The slave girl is in love with you.”

Mick wound her leash around his palm, and calmly said, “Of course she’s in love with me. I’m her Master.”

For a nanosecond, Lauren’s mouth tightened. Then she smiled. “How quaint.”

A circle of observers was gathering. Three slaves with two men would attract attention anyway, regardless of the obvious tension zinging between them.

“But is she obedient?” Smythe asked.

Mick’s fingers stroked over Caro’s breast, squeezing it. “She’ll do anything to please me.”

“Anything?”

Mick leveled him a gaze, his hand sliding from her breast down her abdomen, to caress her mound. “If I tell her to.”

Here it comes , she thought, squirming as he slipped his forefinger between her moist folds.

“How about two other women?” Smythe asked. “Ever see three women go at it?”

Caro stood perfectly still. Lauren cocked her head. Rebecca licked her lips and smiled. Mick stroked Caro’s clit.

She jumped.

For a second her mind swirled with confusion, made worse by Mick’s finger bedeviling her.

No way.

She didn’t do women.

Besides, three women, or even two, was not the killer’s M.O.. The Teddie victims were all heterosexual couples.

“Sorry,” Mick answered. “Not into watching women. Not really into watching at all.”

Smythe grinned, his interest dipping between Caro’s thighs. “That’s right, you like being at the center of attention.”

Mick lifted a negligent shoulder, and flicked her clit again. “I enjoy an audience.”

“Sir,” she whimpered, wriggling. She tried to turn away from the ring of men surrounding them with avid faces. But he held her fast where she was, then started dragging her leash back and forth across her nipples. Her pulse pounded as her body reacted. She was helpless against Mick’s relentlessly skilled fingers. And he knew it so well.

She wanted to mutiny. But didn’t.

Just be his slave.

“Take her through her paces, then,” Smythe said, draping his arms around Lauren and Rebecca. “And we’ll watch.”

For a long, tantalizing moment, Mick rubbed and circled the burning center of Caro’s need. She moaned in pleasure, spread her legs wider, any embarrassment at her role vanishing in the sharpening sensations between her legs. Smythe’s eyes glazed over with lust and a glimmer of covetousness.

Suddenly Mick’s fingers ceased their torment. “Maybe later,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “Come on,” he told her. “Let’s go to the bar.”

She gasped with equal parts surprise and frustration—the same mix as on Smythe’s face. “Y-yes, Sir.”

He tugged her leash and led her off to the library.

“What are you up to?” she asked nervously, taking the glass of champagne he fetched from a bar slave and put in her hand.

“Trying to frustrate a killer.”

She gave a moue. “Not just me, then?”

He smiled his wicked smile, and said, “Maybe you should act more humiliated by what I do to you.”

“But I’m not humiliated.”

The smile softened. “I know. And that’s one of the many reasons I love you. You enjoy our games as much as I do.”

For a second she was so stunned at his casual confession of love she couldn’t put a single thought together.

“But it might turn our man on if you felt humiliated,” he said. “Maybe that’s his trigger.”

Tipping his glass, he dribbled champagne down her breasts. Then he leaned over and lapped it up. She sucked in a breath of surprise. His tongue was hot, tensile velvet, gently insistent on her flesh. He got every drop, concentrating heavily on the sensitive tips.

It felt blazingly erotic. And she loved knowing the crowd was there in the dimness, following the path of his tongue with avid eyes.
How innocent she had been that first time at Brimstone
!

“Should I pretend I don’t like this?” she whispered as he reached up for a kiss from her lips.

“Possibly. We need to push the killer’s buttons. Get him angry and frustrated.”

“So he lets down his guard and makes a mistake.”

“It’s the only way he’ll be caught.”

Mick spilled more of the bubbly down her torso. A thought suddenly came to her. “What brand is this champagne?”

“Coeur de Diable.”

A shiver traced itself down her spine.
The same brand as the other victims
. Things were coming together in a terrible kind of symmetry. Suddenly what was once theoretical was becoming all too real. At the same time, reality was metamorphosing into something unrecognizable.

Mick’s lips glided over her, melding the two.

It was impossible to deny her enjoyment, even to trap their suspect. She shuddered, and held Mick’s head to her breasts, drizzling more from her own glass when he ran out.

Once again, he withdrew.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, along with murmurs from their onlookers.

“Shall I make you lie on your back and spread your legs, pour Coeur de Diable on your pussy and lick it off? Right here in front of everyone?”

The idea made her whole body rush with excitement.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, voice wavering. Realizing she wanted him to do it more than anything. “But you better not. The reports—”

“Did I tell you how much I like you shaved all smooth and soft?” he interrupted.

“You said I looked like a harlot.”

“A sensual, tantalizing harlot. A courtesan for my pleasure.”

“Not a little girl?”

He looked momentarily shocked. “I’m not your preacher man, Caro. I like grown women, not girls.”

“But—”

“Men are turned on by seeing a woman’s body. Especially the secret, hidden parts. It has nothing to do with age, but about revealing the forbidden.” He caressed her bareness with a kind of tactile awe. “Stripping a woman down to her ultimate nakedness for the pleasure of her man’s gaze.”

She watched his eyes as he touched her, desire burning in their depths. “I didn’t know,” she said breathlessly.

She could feel every nuance of his touch against her tender exposed flesh, the rough pads of his fingers, the scrape of his neatly trimmed nails. She imagined his lips and tongue taking their place, and nearly lay down right there.

He sent her a devilishly knowing look, and murmured in her ear, “And now, I think we should go upstairs.”

***

Caro followed Mick to the foyer to retrieve his kit bag, then they headed for the play rooms on the second floor.

Again he told her to empty her mind of everything else and just follow his lead. Bobby and Cody were tag-teaming Smythe, and would let them know if he started acting peculiar or let anything slip in reaction to their performance. Or if he decided to target someone else. Her job was simply to obey Mick’s commands, and with any luck the rest would fall into place.

Trust him.

He must have seen her trepidation, for on the way upstairs he quietly repeated his earlier admonition.

“Just be my slave, Caro. Bobby and Cody will take care of everything else. I’ll take care of you.”