Torn (Lords of the City #1) (22 page)

Dropping the washcloth back into what I assumed was a bowl of water based on the noise, he finished bathing me. Seconds later, there was a sharp tug as he unhooked my chains from the headboard and yanked me off the mattress. With my wrists protruding forward, he paraded me out of the bedroom. A floral fragrance filtered across the hall, and as I walked, the pads of my feet stepped upon what felt like the smooth surface of flower petals. It was impossible to know which ones while blindfolded, but history made me suspect they were lotus blossoms. Their scent and shape were familiar from my first night at the club.

We turned into a room that was stuffy and humid, lacking fresh air. I’d walked the halls enough to recall the layout of the penthouse. Three rooms were completely windowless — the one with the single piece of art, a storage room that was overstuffed with neatly organized boxes, and a round room that stood empty.

Standing behind me, Noah grazed my neck with his kisses, moving up to my earlobe, which he playfully nibbled at before removing the blindfold. “You may speak now,” he permitted.

The light was dim, a soft yellow glow, but it hurt my eyes. It took a while for them to adjust after the darkness of the blindfold. We were in the round room. With the exception of the lotus blossoms, there was nothing within it. Did Noah mean to lock me in here, making it my own personal torture chamber? I shuddered thinking about it. The last few hours, however long they may have been, had been agony enough.

“I don’t understand,” I said, fretful. “What is this about?”

“Endorphins,” Noah revealed and led me to the back of the room, where for the first time I noticed a radiator that was the width of a coffee table. White like the walls, it had been camouflaged.

“Endorphins?” I asked. “Those are pleasure hormones. I thought this part of the lesson was about pain.”

“It is, but when I tell you pleasure and pain are closely related, I don’t mean it in simple terms. It’s biological. You can use pain to stimulate endorphins.”

Untwisting the ends of the chain so that it was split in two, he fastened each to opposite sides of the radiator so that my arms were spread out and I faced the wall, my chestnut hair falling in waves down my bare back, almost touching the string of my thong.

“I’m going to flog you, Imogen,” Noah revealed.

I gasped. “You’re going to beat me?”

“Of course not. There is a sting, but it’s not violent. It’s like being spanked, but with an implement.”

I swallowed nervously. “I think I’d rather be spanked by hand.”

“In time,” he replied with his thick provocative throatiness and walked out of the room, leaving me to fear the worse about what he was going to do to me.

Like when he’d gone to work, he used time to torture me. Foreplay, it ticked on for what seemed like an eternity but was likely less than an hour before he returned.

Across my arm, strands of leather lightly brushed my skin. Like a palm tree, they were attached to a rich ebony handle. The flogger didn’t seem savage, not when it currently tickled my skin, ripening the nerves that carried pleasure through my body.

Beside me, as he enticed me with the flogger, Noah was as immaculate as when he’d left for the office. He no longer wore his suit jacket, but his dress shirt was pristine, a match to his perfect white teeth. He was so robust and sexy that I sometimes had trouble believing he’d chosen me. I gladly handed my body over to him, even if he turned out to be a gorgeous sadist.

Circling behind me, he moved my hair aside with a tender fondness, exposing my back.

“Beg,” he ordered. “Tell me what you would do for the pleasure I’m about to deliver. Tell me you want it.”

I did want it. The pain and the reward. My body quivered, the brew of fear and anticipation intoxicating my mind more than alcohol ever could.

“I’ll do anything, sir,” I answered.

He grabbed me around the waist, his teeth sinking into my shoulder before he kissed and licked the pain away. “Do you give yourself to me?”

“All of myself,” I whispered, shaking. “I’m yours.”

Empty air replaced him as he stepped back, and before I could brace myself, he lashed me on the meat of my buttocks. I yelped, but more out of surprise than pain. It stung, but it was tolerable.

Another lash. Blood rushed down to my core, and as I breathed through the pain, I began to understand why the flogger was an implement of desire. The sting of the lash caused endorphin-infused blood to pump through my hips and thighs, inciting an insatiable need for release.

Struck a third time, even harder, I cried out as gluttonous satisfaction rushed through my body, swelling my pussy and breasts, awakening me in a way that was powerful and delicious.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he said huskily after he’d lashed me several more times.

I wanted to tell him I hadn’t. That I wanted more.

Before I could find the words, he placed one hand on the handle of the flogger while the other clutched the leather strands together. He tucked the implement between my legs and rubbed my clit with it, sawing the material back and forth until I combusted, my sap covering the leather with my convulsions.

“See,” he said, caressing my backside lightly with the flogger, a gentleness after the severity of his lesson. “Everything I do is for you.”

W
orried, I watched from the car window as the industrialized buildings and cheap hotels blurred past us. Earlier in the morning, I’d received a surprise phone call from Noah telling me he was downstairs. We didn’t have any plans. With the World Science Convention only a few days away, I had assumed Noah was out of reach unless I was in the office with him. He wouldn’t tell me where we were going, reminding me that I had agreed to trust him. Leaving the city, I feared we headed for Stafford Estate. The work I had been doing there was meant to be a surprise. I didn’t want him to see it until it was finished.

“This looks like the way to the manor,” I tested him, trying to come across as nonchalant so I didn’t give myself away.

“Would you like us to go there?” he asked with good humor, his gaze locked onto me, studying my reaction as much as I did his.

He knows,
I thought.
He’s baiting me so that I’ll reveal my secret before he destroys the surprise.

I shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. You’re the boss. Wherever you go, I’ll follow. I have to. I’m stuck in the car with you.”

Laughing, he rubbed my arm, the most affectionate he’d been since I got into the car, but then he became serious once more, treating me like he did in the office, strictly professional. It gave me hope that the estate was not our final destination. If Noah was in work mode, then perhaps our journey had something to do with the convention. We could be on our way to some sort of underground bunker for a classified meeting where there was no fear of anyone stealing Noah’s patents.

“You’re daydreaming,” he observed. “Somewhere far away.”

“Not too far. You were there.”

“Where?”

“An underground bunker.”

He sat back. “We’re not heading to an underground bunker.”

“Then where?” I pressed.

“Wherever I please,” he said regally. “Don’t question me again. It’s not your place to, not according to our agreement.”

I squinted at him, contemplative. “This is another lesson. That’s why you’re being a tyrant.”

“Careful,” he warned, “or I’ll forbid you to speak again.”

I grinned, remembering. “Are you going to chain me up as well?”

“That was your request, and I obliged.” He lost a smidgen of his composure, his eyes flaring with unmistakable lechery.

“Will you ever let me chain you up?” I challenged. “There are things I could do that you would never forget.”

Somehow, he kept total control. “As tempting as that sounds, my job is to provide you with pleasure, not the other way around.”

“It would appear you make a habit of it,” I said, not believing that I let it slip out.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, frowning though his tone remained steady.

“Work is your priority, more mistress than me. It governs your every waking hour, constantly summoning you. I know you’re trying to save lives with new technologies, but what about your own? Don’t you want a source of happiness beyond the walls you’ve built around you? Like a family? Or travel?”

The green of his eyes darkened. I had obviously hit a nerve. “I’m not my brother. I never will be.”

“Come on, Noah,” I said, folding my arms. “You know that’s not what I mean. Lots of people travel. And there’re other ways to have fun. Poker. Bingo. Camping.”

“I don’t have time for those activities,” he argued.

He was insufferable. “That’s my point. Give yourself the time. It’s precious.”

Clenching his jaw, he adjusted the cufflinks of his suit, visibly troubled. “Time
is
precious. That’s why I dedicate mine to my work. While I live in luxury, there are many in squalor. The world needs answers more than it needs another billionaire cruising around on a yacht. Not everyone has the privilege of time.”

“But Noah,” I said, softening my tone, “You can’t fix every problem on your own. Even Superman needs help. That’s why he’s in the Justice League.”

Relaxing, his shoulders fell slightly forward. “I guess my company is a sort of league.”

“A league of scientists!” I declared brightly. “But seriously, you really should wander the halls of your company some more. There’s no reason you need to sit all alone in your throne room.”

“It commands respect,” he said, though he didn’t sound as certain as he usually did. “With respect, there is efficiency. No time is wasted between departments fighting over what to do. I make all the decisions.”

“Which is efficient, until you’re sick and can’t work. I’m not saying hand your control over to others, I’ve hung around you long enough to know that will never happen, but you can delegate some of your responsibilities, make the load lighter so that you have more time to focus on the important stuff, like finding answers.”

“I think nanotechnology is an answer,” he confided.

“A big one,” I said, gauging his tone. “You’re passionate about it, like a boy playing with model rockets, but it goes deeper. Those closest to you have noticed it. It affects you on a personal level. That’s why you bid to host the World Science Convention in Chicago this year. This hits close to home, in more ways than one.”

I stopped, trying to read Noah’s expression, but he remained impassive, so I continued. “What is it? You can tell me. Are you waging some sort of war or something? Invisible robots who can crawl through the noses of your enemies?”

I meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, but Noah took it gravely. “It is a war, of sorts,” he admitted. “But it’s not something I’m willing to discuss with you.”

Breathing deep, I tried not to take it personally. “Because I wouldn’t understand?”

“Because I could lose you,” he stated firmly, gripping me with his intensity. “It’s selfish, but that’s the way it is.”

“Okay,” I accepted, backing off.

Secretly, I was thrilled at his confession. Noah cared. Maybe, he even loved. That didn’t mean we had a future together, but it did give meaning to the time we had.

“So what is the lesson?” I asked, returning to our earlier conversation. “What level am I on now?”

“Total submission.”

My entire body warming, I smiled and set my hand on his knee, massaging his thigh, inching up to the power of his groin. “I thought we covered that last time.”

Like a lizard catching a fly, he slapped his hand down on mine, another lash. “The flogger taught you pleasure and pain. Today is about obedience. You must do what I say, no matter what.”

I glanced down at my clothes. When he’d woken me with his phone call, Noah had instructed me to dress casual, so I had, with a pair of beat-up tennis shoes on my feet, jeans and a concert T-shirt over the rest of me. Noah, of course, was razor sharp in his suit.

“I don’t think I dressed accordingly,” I said.

“You look great,” he assured me.

I perked up. “Enough to start casual Friday?”

“Never in a million years.” With vehemence, he captured my gaze once again, his hand squeezing the top of my own. “There’s no turning back, Imogen,” he said. “Tell me that no matter where we end up, you’ll do as I say.”

“I will,” I agreed. “Whatever you say.”

“Good,” he said, and to my discouragement, he moved my hand away from his lap, gently setting it back onto my own, as solemn looking as ever.

“The gala sounds like fun,” I noted, trying not to lose the amiability of the morning.

He smiled, but he kept his distance. “It’s full of nonsensical chatter. A woman as intelligent as you will likely be bored.”

Disappointed, I dropped my eyes. “I thought I was attending with you.”

“You are.” He lifted my chin with his finger. “Imogen Clare, will you go to the gala with me?”

Feeling mischievous, my humor returning, I replied, “Noah Stafford, are you proposing to me.”

He didn’t flinch. “It’s a type of proposition.”

“Then yes,” I accepted. “I will be your arm candy at the gala.”

***

Far beyond Stafford Estate, the suburbs of the city were exchanged for flat plains and rustic farmlands, where wheat grew tall and proud, and tractors were as common as pick-up trucks. The mellow Midwest.

We drove for hours, through small towns and county borders until I no longer had any sense of where we were. The landscape changed. Farmlands remained a pastoral staple, but green hillsides rose from the land, encompassing the cattle and donkeys that grazed in their shadows. Along the roads were fields of butterfly weed and Lenten rose, which grew alongside oats, corn, and snap beans. It was wholesome, connecting me deeply to the earth.

“Are we in Wisconsin?” I asked uncertainly, recognizing the formation of the land but having never traveled to wherever we were now.

“Northwest of Milwaukee,” Noah specified.

“I’ve never been this close to the Canadian border. If I’m leaving town, it’s always to head south.”