Tied & Twisted Emily Ryan-Davis Alarm specialist David has neither room nor desire for complications with his sex. But complication is exactly what he gets when he discovers his newest submissive plaything and his newest client are the same person. And they’re both being threatened by an enemy he can’t identify. Complications aren’t exactly among Jovanna’s favorite things either. She’s looking for escape, not love, during her visits to a local BDSM club. She didn’t anticipate David Burke would be the man behind the best flogging of her life…or that her past would rear its ugly head and threaten to end her life just as she begins to enjoy it again.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Tied & Twisted ISBN 9781419936593 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Tied & Twisted Copyright © 2011 Emily Ryan-Davis Edited by Briana St. James Cover design by Mina Carter Photography: CanStock and 123rf.com Electronic book publication September 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.
TIED & TWISTED Emily Ryan-Davis
Tied & Twisted
Chapter One Tuesday, 8:30 a.m. “What do you think? Should I do ‘lipstick lesbian’ or ‘lumberjack dyke’ when I proposition her?” David Burke jerked his head up from the pile of mail on his kitchen table and stared at his sister. “What?” “Her. The Punk One, Purl Two clerk with the blunt-edged Bettie Page bangs, bluestreaked ponytail and slanted eyebrows. Makes me want to grab a strap-on and turn lesbian.” Melanie pursed her lips and met his eyes over the electric purple bristles of her mascara wand. “Or maybe ask her to grab a strap-on. I think I’d make someone a good bitch.” Melanie coated her eyelashes in sticky purple paint and screwed the cap back on before she raised an expectant eyebrow at him. “Well? Come on. I value your opinion. And you know her better than I do.” “Her” was Jovanna Steeple, one of his clients. David stacked the mail and pushed it aside. In general, he tried not to think about the curvy boutique owner with her preference for corset-style tops that showed more creamy breast than any man should be expected to regard with professionalism. Or not regard at all. Tried, failed—they were two halves of the same coin where the woman was concerned. He scowled at his sister. When he did think of Jovanna Steeple, he didn’t put her in bed with another woman. He put her in bed with him. “She’s the owner,” he finally replied. “Not a clerk. You’re knitting now?” “Elly needed stitch holders or something and we stopped by yesterday. I saw your logo in the window. I’m thinking she’s pretty ‘lipstick’, but I couldn’t get a feel for whether she’s into girly girls or whether she prefers muscles and mullets.” Melanie 5
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gathered her blonde bob behind her head. “Come on, David. Help me out here. Could I pull off chick-with-a-dick if I had to?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not old enough to like women. And you’re not old enough to talk like that. Even if you were, I wouldn’t want to hear about it.” Melanie snorted and released her hair. “Please. I’m twenty-three. I’m old enough to have liked several women.” Her cell phone chimed. Melanie stood and drained the remains of her coffee. “Gotta go. Keep an eye out for me and let me know if you spot anything one way or the other. I could totally faceplant in her chest.” “Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” David stood to refill his coffee mug and text a lawyer friend for info on statutory rape laws in New York, especially as concerned two people of the same sex. Maybe he’d petition for the age of consent to be raised to thirty. His friend replied almost instantly with nothing more than LOL, GOOD LUCK. Great. Eight weeks into his sister living with him while she finished her degree and he already needed legal advice. Not for the first time, he cursed his parents for giving up on their marriage and leaving Melanie to him while they pursued separate social lives on opposite ends of the country. His radar didn’t include marriage. Instead, it encompassed things like brief, hot encounters with women he picked up at BDSM play parties. They liked to be tied down at night and released in the morning, he liked to be on top and leave in the morning. No complications, no promises except to play safe. It worked for him. Burke Security Monitoring had been operational for three months. As a start-up business owner, he had little time for relationships outside sex. And little enough time for sex. Except he’d been fantasizing about Jovanna Steeple for nearly six weeks. From the day she’d called to inquire about his prices and he’d gotten hard over her smoky voice.
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David scrolled through the calendar app on his phone, eyes narrowed and body tight. Time was probably at the root of his Jovanna Steeple problem. The last time he’d accepted a friend’s invitation to play at Bondage, the fetish club downtown, had been just before the launch of his business. He’d declined every invitation since, citing “too busy” and “plans with Melanie” as his excuses, and he’d intended to decline the most recent invitation. “Fuck that,” he muttered. He could do business from his phone and Melanie could spend the weekend with a friend. He needed playtime.
***** Wednesday, 1:53 a.m. Skeins of yarn, colorful by day but shades of gray by night, squatted in the floor-toceiling shelving units that lined all four walls of Punk One, Purl Two. As he picked his way around the overstuffed sofas and long tables that occupied the open floor space, the intruder fantasized about unraveling skein after skein and strangling the bitch with every variety his money had bought. Vegan threads, synthetics, one hundred percent merino wool—he’d strangle her slowly, one hand-dyed hue after another. Breaking into the shop was a risk but it gave him a rush. He wore loose black clothes, a ski mask over his head, gloves on his hands. The front window declared the property protected by Burke Security Monitoring but any surveillance equipment would pick up little more than an average-sized man in black. Ignoring the highpitched beep of the alarm and the ringing phone, he followed his flashlight beam and carefully selected blue, black and purple skeins. He wouldn’t be able to bruise her greedy throat with his bare hands but he could mark her this way, choke her in the colors of death until it claimed her. The mental image pushed his balls to a painful state of arousal. If he didn’t need to protect himself so diligently, he’d come in her painted mouth while she gasped for air.
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The phone stopped ringing. He zipped his backpack and climbed through the frame of the front door, carefully avoiding the jagged shards of glass jutting from the frame like eager teeth.
***** Wednesday, 1:55 a.m. Jovanna jolted from a dreamless sleep. The siren-sound of the ringtone she’d assigned to her security company wailed from the cell phone on her nightstand. Immediately alert, she snatched up the phone and answered. “Burke Security Monitoring,” identified the caller, his voice rough and ragged as if he’d recently come from his own bed. David was his name. She remembered that, along with the tempting braid of ink encircling his right biceps. “Is this Ms. Steeple?” “It’s me. Did the alarm go off? I think we have a mouse—” “The alarm went off and the cameras show evidence of an intruder. Police are on their way to the shop,” he interrupted. “They’ll need access to the video footage.” Her feet were already on the floor by the time he paused. She reached for a pair of jeans. “I’m twenty minutes away.” “I’m ten. I’ll meet the police.” He killed the connection. Jovanna hurriedly pulled the wrinkled jeans over her hips and threw a hoodie over her short nightgown. Dread pooled behind her ribs. Punk One, Purl Two was her baby, the dream she’d finally realized after a long, painfully controlling marriage and messy divorce. In many ways, the punk-rock-themed boutique defined her new life, a defiant middle finger in the face of social control over her existence. Freedom greeted her every morning in the guise of pointy needles and soft, cozy skeins of yarn. She’d found friendship in her small but growing clientele. At thirty, maybe she should have more to hold onto than a twelve-hundred-squarefoot shop filled with fiber, but what she had was what she had. Burke Security
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Monitoring was an expense she couldn’t really afford, not with all the other start-up costs, but David Burke had sold her with his astute, watchful eyes and killer abs. As she belted herself into the driver’s seat of her car, she blessed the sex-driven decision to lay out the cash. Blessed the decision, tried to ignore the deeper justification for the expense. Except she couldn’t really ignore her reasons now, could she? Security should have been nothing more than defense against a paranoid fear that her ex-husband might come after her. She’d never intended to actually need the alarm system. Her ex-husband’s shadow haunted her. Paul Phillips fought long and hard to keep her locked up in his sphere of control. She wouldn’t put it past him to lash out at her here even though she was more than two thousand miles from Seattle. Halfway to the store, she texted David. IS IT BAD? COULD BE WORSE. “I guess that’s something,” she muttered to the empty highway. If Paul were going to chase her down and do damage, he wouldn’t do a half-assed job. If Paul were after her, there’d be no “could be worse”—there’d be only “nothing’s left”. When she reached the strip mall’s narrow lot, she had to navigate around three patrol cars and a dark blue SUV. The SUV belonged to David. She parked beside him. By the time she climbed from her car, he stood in the door frame. In the door frame. Door still closed. Jovanna narrowed her eyes. “So an actual break-in. Not a lock pick,” she said. Bits of glass crunched beneath the soles of her flip-flops. “Watch your feet. There’s glass inside too.” He stepped back, affording her enough room to squeeze past him into the shop. No, that was wrong. Not enough room—her breasts grazed his chest during her sideways sidle to avoid the shards protruding from the frame. She sucked in a breath. “Anything besides the door?”
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But the question was a formality. Jovanna scanned the shop while she spoke. Nothing out of place. An officer stood behind the counter, she presumed checking the cash register for tampering. “According to the video footage, the intruder took a sledgehammer to the door. Walked over to that wall.” He pointed to the BIV section of her ROY G BIV organization system. “Took three skeins of yarn and left.” “Didn’t even go near the register.” A chill crept down her spine. That did not describe something she’d expect of her ex. Paul would have left serious damage in his wake. His violent tendencies stopped at human injury but he had no qualms about unleashing his emotions on drywall and windows. Paul wouldn’t have stopped at smashing the door. David shook his head. “I’ll show you the footage.” “Ms. Steeple?” one of the officers interrupted, approaching from the BIV wall. “I need some information from you.” “Give your info,” David said. “I’ll wait.” Jovanna answered the officer’s questions by rote and provided her ex-husband’s contact information with a request he not be contacted unless evidence associated him with the break-in. She didn’t want to risk drawing Paul’s attention if she hadn’t already caught it but at the same time, she wasn’t a moron who would conceal such an important detail as a potential enemy. The officer was efficient. David had provided surveillance footage on a flash drive so after gathering her information, the police cleared out. She planted her hands on her hips and sighed at the destroyed door. “Reinforced glass the next time,” David said from the back of the shop. “Yeah,” she said. “I didn’t think yarn was something anybody would really break and enter for.” “What did you think someone would break in for?” David asked.
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Revenge. To prove a point. To take something away from her. Was general paranoia enough of a reason? Unwilling to open any of those doors, she shrugged. “The cash register?” After one last look at the door, she turned. David leaned against a bare space of wall, arms folded across his chest. With beard shadow darkening his jaw and mussed hair, he looked like he’d come from bed about as hastily as she had. Jovanna swallowed. While the police were there, she’d been overwhelmed by too many details and unable to process them. Now she had only David to look at and her throat ran dry. His khaki cargoes sat low on narrow hips and his gray t-shirt clung to a cut set of pectoral muscles. Above the t-shirt’s neck, she caught a peek at another tattoo, this one ornate and…aggressive, from the little she could see. With no more provocation than that, her nipples tightened. David’s focus dropped straight to her breasts and the thin satin camisole she’d slept in. Jovanna exhaled. She refused to behave like a shy girl and forced her hands to remain in the pockets of her unzipped hoodie instead of acting on the instinct to shrug deep into the concealing folds and hide herself. If he wanted to look…well, she certainly wanted to look. Maybe they could work out a trade. “I suppose I should see the footage,” she finally said. “It’s brief. Only seventy seconds or so.” He nudged open the door to the tiny storage room she’d reserved for his equipment. Jovanna crossed the sales floor and entered ahead of him, David close on her heels. David just close, his chest against her back. Inside the room, wrapped in the heat of electronics, she drew a ragged breath. The space only afforded enough room for one person. Two if they were very familiar. He reached around her to press a button and his scent invaded her senses. Definitely just out of bed, without the strong scents of soap or aftershave to disguise the earthy fragrance of his skin. 11
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“This is right before he takes the hammer to the door. Watch over here.” David tapped his index finger against the right corner of the monitor above her head. Jovanna obediently followed his direction. Nothing happened for two or three seconds but soon a shadow moved. She watched, sick in the pit of her stomach, as the average-sized male silhouette raised his sledgehammer and swung it into the glass. Even though she knew what was going to happen, even though the security monitors had no sound, she jumped at the instant of impact. After that, everything played out frighteningly fast. David pressed another button and the angle changed. She watched from above the intruder’s head as he walked across the threshold, grinding glass into her carpet. He didn’t hesitate over direction. As soon as he was inside, he veered left and David changed the picture again. “He knows exactly what he wants,” Jovanna whispered. “The register’s on the other side of the shop.” David didn’t reply. Jovanna made herself watch the rest. The intruder selected three skeins of yarn, carefully keeping his face angled away from cameras and his flashlight beam away from his face. He turned off the light and hunched his shoulders before he turned to make his exit. All of it in just over a minute. She hugged her arms across her chest, cold to her bones but with an unsteady sense of relief as well. Paul was a bigger man than the intruder, tall to basketball player proportions. He would’ve had to walk doubled over to avoid a face shot from one of the cameras. Paul was also in perfect physical condition. The intruder walked with a noticeable limp. “Anything familiar about him?” David asked as if he’d picked up on her thoughts. She shook her head. “Nothing. Random crime.” “Looks like a very deliberate crime. None of the other businesses in the block were targeted.” He reprogrammed the monitor to show a live feed of the interior of the store and backed out of the room, leaving her space to turn and follow him.
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She didn’t want to talk about the odd, purposeful intrusion. “What could I have done to prevent the break-in?” “A more secure piece of glass for the door might’ve helped.” “My fault for being cheap.” She grimaced. “You didn’t invite him in so it’s not your fault.” David retrieved his wallet from his rear pocket and handed her a card. “Talk to Caleb and tell him I referred you. He’ll take care of the door before ten a.m.” Seven hours until her freedom was secure again and as much as she wanted to go back to that little room and wallow in the comfort of a man’s proximity, it was time for her to be a big girl. She’d made her own choice to give up that comfort, a tiny price to pay for independence. She plucked the card from his grasp. “Thanks. I appreciate your coming out so late.” “Twenty-four-hour service is in the contract.” He didn’t smile. “Think about home security. I have a bad feeling about this.” So did she. “I’ll think about it.” The police had secured the perimeter and ensured the intruder wasn’t lurking on the outskirts of the property waiting for another shot at the store. They’d tacked a thick sheet of plastic over her open door. David hesitated but didn’t say anything else before pushing the plastic aside and leaving. Exhausted, Jovanna collapsed on one of the sofas she’d brought in for the convenience of knitting groups who met in her store. She wouldn’t sleep, but at least she could count the hours until dawn from the relative comfort of an upholstered embrace if she couldn’t have it from a human embrace.
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Chapter Two Friday, 11:00 p.m. Music vibrated from the walls and leather pounded flesh. When the man was good with his arm and had enough stamina to maintain a steady rhythm, the two sounds twined around each other and became one. Tonight, the Dom was neither good nor able to last. The second time the tongue of his riding crop struck behind her left knee, Jovanna gasped and gave her signal for the man to stop. Two more blows fell before club staff interceded and made the man back down. Spread-eagle and bound, she didn’t bother to swallow a growl of frustration. A night at Bondage was supposed to be her escape, pleasure and pain to distract her from the break-in, a release of hormones to help her sleep after two nights of wondering whether Paul had hired someone to come after her. Now, however, the only release she craved was release from the braces pinning her wrists and ankles to the ceiling and floor. Mikal, the handler assigned to her care, stepped in front of her, close enough to be heard over the music. “Someone else is asking to play you. Do you want to try once more?” Jovanna exhaled. She couldn’t see the “someone else” in her limited field of vision. Usually appearance didn’t matter and she preferred anonymity, hence her arrival at Bondage alone and her request for one of the submissive handlers to see to her safety and care. Her request specifically for Mikal, whose dark, Scandinavian good looks and intimidating build kept most newbies at bay and the cockier tops in line. Tonight her patience wore thin and need wound tight around her good manners, pushing the edges of her willingness to bottom for just anybody. Too bad Mikal didn’t play. Despite his apparent distance from the activities of the club, she sensed an
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aggressive need behind his green eyes. He would do very well with a whip. “Is he capable?” “Yes. I’ve seen him work. He’s not new.” Mikal glowered. “I apologize for the last one. He’s a guest of a member. He won’t be readmitted.” “I’ll stay.” After months of building her relationship with Mikal, she trusted his judgment. He’d served her before and proven his experience on more than one occasion. That experience manifested in the bottled water and straw he produced after she gave her consent. Jovanna sipped carefully, enough but not too much, before he took the bottle and backed away. Eyes closed, she drew several deep breaths and tried to force herself to relax. The music, heavy drum beats and bass lines without lyrics, should have provided a focus. Just as she found a pattern for her breathing, she sensed movement behind her, low to the ground. Warm, confident hands settled above her ankles and began to knead her calf muscles. She tensed, surprised by the new Dom’s approach. In response, he worked her muscles more deliberately. Strong fingers dug deep into the tightest knots she’d acquired during her earlier brief session. He gentled behind her knees, careful with what must be a nasty welt after the previous top’s wildly misplaced blow, and was less gentle with the long muscles of her thighs. His hands were decidedly rough by the time he reached her ass. He squeezed and separated her cheeks, revealing the cotton strip of her navy blue thong. Her chin dropped to her chest as thrill shot back through the limbs he’d just loosened. She hadn’t come to Bondage for fucking, but when the pad of his thumb pressed against her through the thin cotton, the rhythm of the music became something else— hard, deep, an echo of the pace he would set as he thrust into her. Her nipples tightened beneath the backless halter she wore to cover her breasts. Her pussy fluttered and creamed. Goosebumps spread across her skin as if he’d already worked through the ring of muscle he massaged, as if he’d already settled deep in her ass.
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But he hadn’t. She’d specified no sex and Mikal would see to it that her rules were followed. The man behind her worked his thumbs up to the small of her back and grasped her waist, gripping lightly as he stood. The cotton of his shirt whispered across her skin and his body heat warmed her shoulder blades. “What are you looking for?” he murmured. “Oblivion or clarity?” Despite his warmth, a shiver tickled down her spine. Cool fingers of déjà vu followed the shiver. Something was familiar—not the words. She knew nobody had ever asked after her desires with such insight before. Something, though. Maybe the way he stood behind her, promising and protective. Jovanna turned her head toward him. He remained out of sight, nothing more than a body behind her and a shoulder in her peripheral vision. She moistened her lips. “Oblivion. Can you deliver?” Calloused fingertips traced the curve of her jaw. “You don’t have to challenge me, sweetheart. Delivery was my intention all along.” He spoke in low tones, his breath hot at the curve of her neck. Jovanna swallowed and bowed her head without another word. Submissive. Consenting. He tucked her hair behind her ear and stepped away. Anticipation began as a small, hard knot in her stomach. While he chose his tools and his position, the knot grew, bigger and bigger, until it throbbed behind her ribs. The pounding bass of the music slid over her easily now, its rhythm coaxing her thudding heart into the same pace. His first strike landed unexpected but welcome, solid across the cushion of her ass. Jovanna bowed her spine, shoved her hips back for more. He played with her but didn’t tease. Instead, he drew a deliberate pattern of lashes across her skin—hard, solid blows for the larger muscles, light taps for more sensitive spots. She appreciated that he established a pattern. There was something to be said for the element of surprise but she didn’t want to be alert. She wanted to sink into it, float free in the ache. Over and over, he brought the tongues of the flogger down on her skin. 16
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His arm didn’t falter and she lost track of his pattern. Her muscles remembered well enough to liberate her conscious self, however, and the club’s music dulled to a hum in the back of her mind, its bass lines swallowed by the whoosh of air and rewarding burn behind her. Liberated from external concerns, her focus shifted. The Dom’s strikes penetrated deeper than skin and vibrated toward her physical center. Each blow delivered a ripple of sensation, tiny shocks connecting with her clit. She strained to squeeze her thighs together but the ankle restraints held her in place, spread-eagle and without the pressure she needed for release. A light slap landed across the front of her thigh. Jovanna jerked, surprised by the change in his pattern. “Enough?” he asked from behind. His palm slid across her stomach. Jovanna swallowed. She didn’t want their session to end, but— “I want to come,” she managed. “Want or need?” The intimate rumble of his voice at her ear eased her back into the fuzzy, vibrating headspace she’d discovered. She relaxed against the solid presence of his chest and dropped her chin to her chest. Throat dry, she whispered, “Need.” Somehow he heard. Or read the shape of the word on her lips. Jovanna didn’t care how he picked up on her response. She only cared that his touch glided lower and long fingers fanned across the triangle of her panties. Off to her right, a large, dark figure stirred. Mikal. She shook her head slightly to warn him away. Her rule was no sex, not no hands. She wanted her Dom’s hands, tilted her hips until the lips of her pussy pushed into his touch and the ripples of sensation gathered into a bright starburst of pleasure. Her entire body bowed for the rush, so sweet and deep it dragged her back into the floating space she’d found at the end of his flogger. The cuffs that secured her ankles and wrists bit into her flesh. The small pain added yet another layer of texture and she embraced it, sucked it in on gasping breaths. 17
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Awareness returned gradually, with her pussy still throbbing and her muscles quivering. She blinked at the club logo embroidered on the collar of the black polo shirt in front of her eyes. Mikal reached above her to free her wrists from the overhead bonds and caught her when her muscles failed to hold her upright. “It’s over?” She sagged against the handler’s chest while he wrapped her in a thick, soft blanket. But she knew the answer. He was gone and she missed him, wanted his soothing hands instead of Mikal’s impersonal touch. Her skin continued to pulse along with her clit nerve endings still reacting to the slap of leather and the squeeze of a strong hand. Her head and her body were operating on different levels. Mikal said something in reply, his bass voice low and comforting. Experienced and good at his job. He led her from the scene and into a small, dimly lit room with a couch. Jovanna tried to catch a glimpse of her scene partner but Mikal’s efficiency aborted her dazed visual investigation. He bundled her onto the couch with the blanket and a bottle of water and started rubbing her down in silence. “It’s Friday,” he said. “You’re at Bondage.” “Yeah.” Eyes closed, she nodded to signal awareness of her surroundings. Soon she relaxed into his soothing, impersonal touch. Against her better judgment, she asked, “Do you know who he is?” His hands paused on her calves. “You’ve never asked before, Jo.” She shrugged and drew the blanket more securely about her shoulders. “Never been worth asking before.” Mikal hesitated before saying, “If you still want to know tomorrow, I’ll tell you then. Decide when you’re back in your own head.” Solid advice. She should take it. Still… “Will you send a note for me?”
*****
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No names, no penetration. Complete anonymity. No aftercare. Those were the rules set forth by the staff member assigned to Jovanna’s safety. If he wanted to play, he had to agree to the rules. He’d wanted to play. From the moment he’d noticed the climbing ivy vine inked up her left leg from ankle to knee, he’d known her identity. His cock had hardened instantly. Yeah, he’d wanted to play. Bad enough to agree to the rules. Keeping his word as he walked away with the image of some other man bringing her out of subspace— “Hell,” he muttered into the narrow mouth of his beer bottle. Walking away had been hell. Across the narrow cocktail table, his friend and club manager Sam Fletcher chuckled. “Does someone need a pass to the Blue Suite?” David briefly glanced up at the balcony overlooking the social area of the club. Blue bulbs in the light fixtures gave the private section of the club its name. A few men lingered together against the rail but the real attraction of the Blue Suite lay in the shadowed rooms that opened off the balcony. Each room held a willing, eager bottom tied up and waiting in hopes of being fucked. Preferably by a stranger. “Does she ever go up there?” Images of Jovanna spread out with her ass in the air, her pussy wet and open, jacked him up to a new state of arousal. He’d been uncomfortable before. Now the stiff ridge of his cock crossed the line into painful. Sam flashed a knowing, sympathetic grin. “Sorry, man. She never sticks around long enough for anybody to talk her into bending the rules. No sex. Not for her.” David took small comfort in the knowledge he hadn’t heated her up for another man. Maybe Melanie’s theory had some merit and Jovanna preferred women. No. When he touched her, when he squeezed the high, firm cheeks of her ass, she got goose bumps for him.
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Opposite him, Sam’s focus shifted to something over David’s shoulder. A server with short hair and long legs murmured an apology for her interruption and presented a small, square envelope with Bondage’s stylized “B” logo on the flap. David pressed a few bills into the server’s hand and withdrew the notecard. J. says “thank you”. She requests a meeting in the Blue Suite, Room Seven. Please wear a condom and a mask. “I changed my mind about the pass,” he said. Sam withdrew his wallet and slid the silver-embossed card across the table. “That from her?” “Yeah.” David stood. “Masks?” “They’re kept in trays outside the door of each room.” With a nod of thanks, David headed for the nearest staircase. Upstairs, he snapped a mask into place. The plain black affair hid the upper portion of his face but left the lower half bare. Inside the room, the blue-light theme continued. Jovanna knelt at the foot of the bed, her back to the door. The lighting scheme took the blue-dyed streaks in her hair and rendered them electric where the long strands fanned across her bare back. He almost missed the blindfold she wore, a length of black fabric knotted behind her head. The black bled into the darker swatches of her hair. The thong she’d worn on the floor downstairs was gone, revealing the full span of her heart-shaped ass poised above her calves and the vulnerable soles of her feet. Conscience tweaked at the base of his skull and he hesitated with the door half-closed behind him. He knew her identity. She expected anonymity, but he knew. Every time he saw her—not that he ran into her very often—he would remember the way her muscles drew taut while she anticipated the whip. The way she relaxed into the deep heat of the landing blow. If he accepted her invitation and buried his cock in her willing pussy, he’d remember even more. The squeeze of her slick heat around his dick. The arch of her back. The pitch of her moan, if she was a vocal lover. 20
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If he accepted her invitation and later she discovered his identity—what then? His business was fragile and new. Jovanna’s contract wasn’t the primary money maker on his client list, but it helped keep his business in the black. And more than the risk of alienating a client, he didn’t want the risk of alienating a woman who attracted him so strongly. Raking his fingers through his hair, he cast a frustrated look around the room. A mirror occupied the wall to his left. A cabinet and, above it, an array of toys suspended from hooks occupied the wall to his right. Tooled leather harnesses hung beside riding crops, studded gloves and skeins of rope. On the bed, Jovanna moved. She turned her head slightly toward him and wet her lips. “You showed a great deal of skill downstairs.” “Practice,” he replied roughly. He had plenty of practice with plenty of women, both nameless and not. She tucked her chin close in a short nod. “Will you close the door?” His grip tightened on the handle and before he completely decided between his conscience and his cock, he pulled the door shut. Some clever trick of acoustics muted the music that slammed so vigorously on the play floor. In the social lounge downstairs, he’d been able to talk with Sam at a conversational volume. With the door closed in Room 7 of the Blue Suite, the music faded so low he could have heard Jovanna whisper. She moved at the sound of the door latching, flexing her narrow feet and folding forward onto her hands and knees on the bed. The soft shadow of her slit peeked at him from between shapely thighs. Makes me want to grab a strap-on— Christ. He exiled the rest of the thought, refused to allow Melanie a voice in this situation. The memory did give him an idea. Violently suppressing his urge to open his pants and hilt himself in her ready flesh, he crossed to the right wall and catalogued the contents of the cabinet. Dildos in a variety of sizes, wrapped in plastic to signify they’d been sanitized since their last use, nestled in a long, wide drawer. He selected two 21
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phallic toys from the array despite the protesting throb of need in his cock. On the way back to the bed, he commandeered a straight-backed chair and dragged it with him. He dropped the toys, one a short, slim plastic vibrator and the other a thick, weighty rod of silicone, onto the bed and positioned his chair directly behind her. “I don’t do no-name sex, sweetheart, but I’ll finish what I started downstairs.” Her thighs and ass tensed. Relaxed. She whispered, “All right. Thank you.” With her agreement, he sat and stroked his palms over her high arches and slim calves. “Spread your knees and sit back for me.” Jovanna took direction well. In keeping with his instructions, she adjusted her position until her thighs splayed wide and her hips hovered above her heels. Her wetness glistened in the low light and made the bare, silky lips of her pussy gleam. Drawing deep on the clean scent of her arousal, he indulged himself and touched her the way he’d wanted to touch her down on the play floor. She quivered for his fingers. David slid two into her without effort, his way eased by her cream. Jovanna’s shoulder blades drew together and she hung her head but not before her low groan of approval reached his ears. Hot and tight, her inner walls flexed hard. He resisted the demanding pull and withdrew, spreading her wetness up to her anus. She shuddered and he permitted himself a grim smile. He hadn’t missed her earlier reaction to his touch. If they wore fewer masks and kept fewer secrets, he’d mount her and shove himself deep. Instead, he retrieved the short vibrator and ran it down between her spread legs, thumbing the vibe to a low setting as the tapered head crested her clit. “Ahh!” she yelped and curled her toes against the midnight linens beneath her. David grasped her thigh to keep her still and dialed the vibe to a higher setting. He swirled the hard plastic tip through her folds and thrust shallowly into her pussy while she trembled in his hold. The pattern of her breathing changed from steady to erratic as he returned to her clit.
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“Hold still,” he ordered. He released her thigh and fingered her again, gathering wetness. Jovanna’s back bowed but she held otherwise. With the vibe still against her clit, he drew back, returned to her ass. The tight muscle resisted at first but her low, moaned “yes” encouraged him and on her next breath he penetrated the little pink ring.
The small stretch sent splinters of pleasure straight to her nipples. Jovanna’s breath hissed out in a rush as she fisted her hands in the slippery satin beneath her palms and bucked her hips up into his touch. He didn’t chastise her for disobedience beyond flicking the vibrator to yet another speed. Faster, more intense, the hard wand tormented her clit and pushed her straight past the point of orgasm, shoved the nerve endings over into numb. She needed numb. Numb freed her to concentrate on the fullness inside her. A plea rolled to the tip of her tongue but she muffled it against the mattress, pressed her face hard into the pillowy fill of the bed’s comforter. No begging. She wouldn’t beg. She— “No!” She gasped, locking her elbows and rearing up, a blind attempt to follow his retreating fingers. The vibrator fell away, its hum muted by the linens. He spread his hand across the small of her back, held her with the rough heat of his palm. “Let me,” he muttered. “I know you want more than that.” She did, but— “Oh. God.” Something thick and blunt pressed into her pussy. Long. Not him. She sensed he had taken his stand, wouldn’t falter. She wouldn’t be feeling the press of his cock or the slap of his sac against her clit. Instead, she’d settle for the smooth, spongy phallus. Sinking deep, pulling back, sinking— Jovanna whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut hard behind her blindfold as the fake cock disappeared, leaving her empty. Again.
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“Please,” she breathed raggedly, proving she would beg. “Shh,” he soothed. Behind her, the mattress depressed between her splayed knees. Cloth grazed the backs of her thighs as he joined her on the bed. The hand at her back slid around, over the crest of her hip and under her belly. Long fingers tunneled between her labia, found her clit, and she wasn’t numb anymore. Tingling pulses of heat rippled outward from that central point as he manipulated her flesh, pulled the hood of her clit back and brushed his fingertip across the exposed peak. She swallowed a shriek but couldn’t halt the spasm of her muscles. Gasping for breath, she turned her head to beg again. His herbal scent, sage and something sensuously citrus beneath it, distracted her. Then pressure. An insistent push between her cheeks, something broad. Thick. Exhaling hard, she forced her body under control. Stilled for him. “That’s it,” he rumbled softly. “Relax, sweetheart. It’ll only hurt for a minute.” She didn’t tell him how much she looked forward to that momentary pain. Didn’t tell him how much sweeter the pleasure could be, a tingling reward for her brief hurt. He thumbed her clit one last time, gathered thick cream from her pussy, and used the wetness to paint a lubricating circle around her anus. “Now,” she whispered and this time he obeyed. He angled the crown of the phallus against her pucker. Jovanna exhaled and flexed her inner muscles, a slight push out to aid his push in. The burn, the spark of pain, was instant and she groaned, arched her back to relish the first sensation. Fullness followed. Her skin tightened and her nipples peaked, responding to the slight drag of silicone along her inner walls. As he began to fuck her, she blessed him for foregoing synthetic lubrication. This way, she felt everything.
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Soon, he found a steady rhythm, unfaltering in his thrusts. She splayed her fingers across the comforter and tried to pretend she held him instead, tried to imagine the flex and release of his biceps in her grip while he drove into her from above. But it was all imagination. He carried her deep into fantasy without letting her forget the reality of silicone instead of flesh. Expertly applied silicone, but she craved the real thing. His weight pressing her into the mattress. The hard drive of his pubic bone against her clit. Despite the shortcomings of reality—all her fault, only hers, her fault and her fear of being trapped once more by attraction—she swiftly approached a peak. Her chest ached with each labored, gasping breath and her arms had long since given away. He still remained strong, whispering praise and encouragement with each twisting thrust. When he stroked between her labia and rolled her clit between his fingers, she lost the battle of prolonging their session. The bed linens muffled her screaming release. Shuddering, she sprawled boneless on her stomach. Gentle fingers replaced the dildo at her ass. He stroked her crease, caressed her thigh while she panted and trembled. And finally, he covered her. As she lay shivering, he stretched out along the length of her body. The rock-stiff ridge of his erection nestled up against her ass but he still wore his clothes. “Good girl,” he whispered beside her ear. Praise. Jovanna swallowed. This was what she’d found lacking in their earlier play. Praise afterward. And comfort.
***** Friday, 1:35 a.m. She’d been gone for hours. He’d occupied himself with cat’s cradle for some of the time, weaving purple yarn between his fingers while he listened to the local radio
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station. He didn’t mean to kill her tonight, but it was a Friday and he was bored. A man with a limp didn’t attract much attention in bars. Not only had she wiped out his retirement fund, but she’d also demolished his sex life. As another half-hour block of music started, he muttered a frustrated curse and flicked the loop of yarn onto the passenger seat. Bitch had picked someone up somewhere. She wasn’t coming home before she had a late breakfast and a morningafter fuck wherever she’d spent the night. He reached for the key in the ignition—and paused, holding his breath. Headlights arced across the parking lot. Her little red twodoor cruised into the empty spot in front of her narrow townhouse. Smiling, he watched her move around inside the car, gathering her bag or whatever the fuck she was doing. She finally stepped out. A double beep of her car alarm indicated the alarm was set. That suited him fine. Tonight, he wasn’t triggering any alarms, wasn’t putting in an appearance on any cameras. Tonight, he was sitting back and enjoying. He had plans. She hitched her purse over her shoulder and climbed the steps to the postage stamp that passed for her front porch. His dick hardened, rose tight against the fly of his jeans. Four seconds. Three. Two—ahhhh. Her motion sensor porch light flared bright and illuminated his gift to her.
***** Cunt. You owe me money. Adrenaline flooded her system, a hormone overload on top of the endorphin high she’d been riding seconds earlier. Jovanna spun away from the uneven words drawn in something red and oily on the glass panel of her storm door. With her back to the door and the dark, silent parking lot in front of her, both fight and flight failed her. “Inside,” she whispered. Inside would be safer than outside. Her door was still firmly shut, no signs of a break-in. Just the message, the tail of the last “y” dripping a blood-red trail down the glass.
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Pulse hammering in her ears, she tried not to leave her back to the parking lot. The nape of her neck crawled with a pervasive feeling of being watched as she fumbled with her keys and, excruciating minutes later, finally plunged into the safety of her dark, quiet house. She bolted the door with shaking hands and stumbled across the dark living room, intent on the windowless bathroom in the middle of the house. In the dark, behind another locked door, she sat on the toilet lid and clutched her phone. At a loss for what to do next. Police? Did this count as an emergency? Family—none in New York. Friends—she’d left them all in Washington and Facebook wouldn’t help her in this situation. Whatever this situation was. Her thumb landed on David Burke’s entry on her contact list. She typed and deleted two drafts of a text before settling on CAN YOU INSTALL HOME SECURITY TOMORROW? After several deep breaths, she looked up the number for the local police precinct. Before she could dial, a text came through. WHAT’S WRONG? Jovanna rubbed her forehead, wondering how to respond. She’d expected “yes” or “no” from David, not an inquiry. After a moment, she blew out a breath and called the police to report her non-emergency. Not an emergency because she hadn’t heard even a floorboard creak in the house since she’d entered. While she was on the phone with the police, another call beeped on the line. After finishing with the police, she checked the missed calls log to find David’s number in queue. And he called again. The phone vibrated in her palm. “Hey,” she answered, staring at the shape of the vanity in the dark. “Are you all right?” Overran her greeting.
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Jovanna blinked at the hard edge of urgency in his tone. She frowned at the warm puddle of comfort she derived from the sound of his voice. And the even warmer puddle of something else. “I’m—yeah.” She exhaled, started again. “I’m having an issue. It’s not an emergency. Can you schedule me for a consultation tomorrow? Maybe an installation?” He held silent on the other end of the line. She counted to ten, was about to write him off for a dropped call, when he finally said, “When do you want me?” With no other provocation, her pussy began to throb. She pressed her thighs together, failed to keep the raw, husky dip from her voice. “I have to open the store at eleven on Saturdays. If you can be here by 10:30, I can let you in before I go.” “I’ll be there.” He hesitated, added, “Have you called the police?” After Wednesday’s break-in, she didn’t have to ask how he knew. The reminder served to suppress her reviving arousal. “They’re sending someone over now. I should go so I can meet them at the door.” “I’m not far away if you want me to stop by tonight.” “I’m all right. It wasn’t a break-in. The morning’s soon enough.” The chime of her doorbell jump-started her pulse. Jovanna stood and forced herself to leave the bathroom. “I have to get the door.” “Verify it’s the cops before you let anyone inside,” he warned. “I’ll wait until you know.” True to his word, David remained on the line until the officers outside confirmed their identity.
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Chapter Three Saturday, 9:30 a.m. Every muscle in her body was deliciously stiff. Jovanna stretched in the yellow arrow of sunlight angling through her window, imagined she could feel individual threads of her six-hundred-thread-count sheets against her overly sensitized skin. She loved being fucked on her luxurious sheets. Adored the exquisite sensation of bare skin against bare skin on clean, crisp cotton. Closing her eyes, she reached for the thick vibrator stashed in her nightstand. Not as satisfying as the strength of a man between her legs, but as her session in the Blue Suite had proven, adequate for getting the job done. The alarm clock shrieked in protest, warning her of the time. Reminding her of the store, of the break-in, of the message on her door during the night. Abruptly cold, she rose and hurried through a shower. Hurried because she didn’t want to leave herself naked, wet and blind long enough for anybody to sneak up on her. The paranoia she’d been battling since Wednesday night had ratcheted to outright fear last night while the police questioned her about possible suspects. Just like Wednesday, she had nothing to offer. No names except her ex-husband’s, whose alibi, according to the police, was iron-clad. She didn’t even really believe Paul would have hired someone to come after her, which would have accounted for the average build of the intruder. How twisted that she wanted Paul to be the threat if only because he could be identified? Fear stalked her into her sunny kitchen and kept her company while she started a pot of coffee. Fear stuck around until David texted notice of his arrival an instant prior to ringing the doorbell.
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She opened the door to his dark glower. Taken aback, she retreated a step. “Uh, good morning?” “Is this from last night?” He tapped the words painted on her storm door. “Yeah. He used oil-based paint. I tried Windex. No luck.” “If you have a screen, I’ll put it in. Not as energy efficient, but at least you won’t have to look at it when you get home tonight.” He stepped inside, crowding her in the tiny foyer. The spicy scent of his aftershave hit her hard, familiar but elusive. “Coffee?” she invited, trying to place the olfactory memory. “Let me take a look around first. I want to walk around to the back and if you have time, I’d like to get an idea of your living habits. What rooms you occupy at what times of day, what rooms you don’t use often.” All business, he produced a small notepad and a pen. Smothering a strange sense of disappointment—irrational, because she’d asked him to come by for business—Jovanna led him on a cursory tour. The two-bedroom townhouse didn’t have much square footage for them to cover. David made notes while she talked. At the threshold of her bedroom, he stopped. Jovanna turned to find him looking at her rumpled bed. Maybe she made a sound. He raised his eyes and met hers. Something electric sizzled between them, struck like lightning low in her stomach. She wanted to strip naked and spread him out on her sun-warmed sheets. She wanted to slide down onto his cock and watch his gray-blue eyes, dark now with awareness, roll back in his head. “I need to give you something.” The words rumbled, low and rough down her spine. The timbre of his voice didn’t come anywhere close to professional. He produced a small, square envelope from his shirt pocket and she knew. Her breathing stuttered to a stop. Jovanna stared at the Bondage logo on the envelope. 30
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“I have to open the shop,” she said. “You should lock the doors before you go. Don’t worry about the coffee pot. It’s on a timer.” She tried to dodge around him but he filled the doorway. Strong fingers caught her biceps, drew her up short. “Jovanna—” “I have to go,” she repeated, unwilling to stand still long enough to figure out how she felt about this. About submitting to him, having close-enough-to-sex with him. Finding comfort and security in his presence. With a frustrated growl, he crumpled the envelope and shoved it down the front of her corset. His fingertips lingered across the tops of her breasts. Her nipples swelled behind the stiff stays, stabbed uncomfortably into the brocade. “Jovanna,” he said again. Just her name. She shook her head sharply and jerked away, still not ready to stop and think. “I’m going to be late.” She fled to the safety of her dyes and fibers. Three hours later, the Saturday retail crowd hit its late-lunch lull. Jovanna left her weekend clerk and half a dozen teenagers knitting and chatting on the sofa while she sneaked out for midday coffee. Over a latte and bagel, she checked her text messages. She scrolled past the messages from friends and, reluctant but sickly curious, opened the text from David. I DIDN’T SET OUT LOOKING FOR YOU. Jovanna removed the envelope from her cleavage and stared at the neat writing across the back of the note she’d sent. I want you again. HOW DID YOU RECOGNIZE ME? she texted. And, a moment later, WHEN DID YOU? WILL YOU HAVE DINNER WITH ME? HOW/WHEN? YOUR IVY VINE. IT’S DISTINCTIVE. YOU KNEW BEFORE YOU FUCKED ME.
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I DIDN’T FUCK YOU. Heart pounding, she pushed her phone aside and brooded into her coffee. David had violated something, some trust she hadn’t seen growing. Not by playing with her, not by joining her in the Blue Suite, but by hiding behind his mask after stripping off hers. Two texts came through. She ignored them. When the phone rang—David on the caller ID—she ended the call before the second ring. “This can’t be happening,” she muttered, glaring at her untouched bagel. Conversation and laughter ebbed and flowed around her as small groups of people caught up and unwound over their caffeine fixes. No laughter at her table. Just drama. Physical attraction to David Burke—she could deal with that. Even embrace it. She was far from virginal and had strict rules about her sexual habits, but in general she had no qualms about sex. Sex and attraction were healthy. She could deal with wanting him. Strip away his name and his recent role in her life, put a flogger in his hand, and hell yes. She’d have to be a corpse not to react. The everything-else ruined the sex though. For some reason, or a combination of reasons, he’d become more than sex. Yeah. She blew out a breath and stared sightlessly at the street outside. His position as her security guy, his calm and solid presence the night of the break-in and the sound of his voice when she’d been frightened in the middle of the night—all totally understandable reasons for her shifting perspective. He couldn’t be merely sex anymore because he’d become safety. Disgusted, she flung her ponytail over her shoulder. If convenience had opened the trap she’d stumbled into, she had to find a new security company. Except…she wasn’t thinking about security measures last night with the mostly anonymous man in her borrowed bed. No. She was thinking about everything after the sex that made the sex itself into a complete experience. After three years of divorced life, she finally wanted a new relationship. 32
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That was…not good. It still wasn’t good hours later when David knocked on her new reinforced glass door while she tidied the bins of sock yarn. The sign on the door said “closed” but he met her eyes through the glass and raised a sandy eyebrow. Jovanna stomped on the mingled awareness and fear that pulsed through her and crossed the shop to unlock the door. She didn’t have anything clever or cruel to say so she waited for him to speak first. “You’ll need the code for your alarm system,” he said after a beat of silence. “It’s keyed up to the doors and windows. I also installed cameras at the front and back doors. The cameras are feeding to the new monitor on your desk.” She moistened her lips, dry with the unwelcome reminder of the night before. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here.” David braced his shoulder against the door frame. “You’re not taking my calls.” His scent tickled the edges of her memory, reminded her of midnight satin and pleasure. She stepped backward as heat stung the tips of her ears. “I’ll get a pen. Do you have an invoice?” Desperate to hide the flush burning her cheeks, she turned her back on him and headed for the service counter. Behind her, the tiny bell over the door chimed as David stepped in and let the door close. The sound of her keys jingling together, of the lock bolting home, made her breath catch. From the corner of her eye, she saw him pocket her keys. Her pulse kicked up and a sense of inevitability, thrill instead of fear, slid down her back. She tried to ignore it. “The code? And my keys?” He supplied a six-number sequence but said, “I think I’ll keep your keys for now. I want to talk to you and I don’t have the patience for a conversation through text messages. Especially when you’re ignoring my messages.”
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Jovanna dropped her pen in a cup and turned to face him. Mistake. He sat in a casual sprawl on one of her overstuffed sofas. The hunter-green backdrop and the late sun coming through the wide front window did terrific things for him, darkening the golden hue of his skin and illuminating his dark-blond cut. While she watched, he spread both arms across the back of the sofa and planted his booted feet on the carpet. Knees bent, weekend cargoes stretched taut across his thighs. It would be such a bad idea if she hiked her pencil skirt to her hips and straddled him there in the warm beam of the sun. She forced her eyes to his. “I’m ignoring your messages because I don’t want to talk to you. Unless you’re giving me access codes or delivering my bill.” “Our relationship isn’t strictly business anymore. I haven’t been to the club recently because I’ve been busy with setting up new clients. Recent months aside, I’m a regular visitor. From what I hear, so are you. We’re going to encounter each other again.” He broke eye contact, but not to look away. Instead, he very deliberately refocused on her body, tracking from mouth to knees. “I’m going to know you whether you wear a mask or not. And unless you forbid me from playing with you, I’m going to do it again. And you’ll recognize me when I do.” The low timbre of his voice stroked her skin, confident and direct. He may as well have been touching her with his bare hands. Her response would’ve been the same— heat between her legs, a return of the desire to climb astride him and grind her pussy down against his cock, which now stood stiff behind his fly. “I’ll find another club,” she said, clinging to a shred of good sense. “And I’m not a bottom all the time. That isn’t something I need to live.” A slight smile quirked his lips. “Prove it.” She frowned. “Prove what?” “Show me what else you have hiding behind those eyes of yours.” He crooked his fingers, beckoning her closer. “Door’s locked. So prove you won’t give every time I stand behind you and demand.” 34
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“I have nothing to prove to you,” she replied, stiffening at his assumption. He inclined his head. “Maybe not. But I can tell from here that you’ve got something to prove to yourself.”
She stood silent, staring at him with fire in her eyes. David wouldn’t have put money on the source of the red stain across her high cheekbones. From where he sat, fury or arousal made no difference. She was hot as hell either way. While he watched and waited, balls aching and his dick as hard as granite, her eyes changed. She adopted an invisible mask. And reached back. The sound of a zipper hissed in the silence. “I don’t have anything to prove,” she repeated evenly. The snug-fitting material of her skirt loosened at her hips. She slid her thumbs behind the waistband and shimmied once. The black sheath slid down her legs and puddled on the floor. Killer heels. Black fishnet thigh-highs. Scarlet panties, matching garter belt, six inches of pale, bare flesh before her red corset nipped the dip of her waist. David had never guessed himself to be a lingerie man but he found himself with a new appreciation for corsets and stockings. David skimmed past the generous swell of her breasts and met her narrowed eyes. He patted his thigh. “Come here.” Jovanna produced a tube of lip gloss from her cleavage and painted her lips ruby, studying him all the while. After, she shook her head slightly and sat on the sofa opposite him. “You come here.” Perched on the edge of a cushion, she spread her legs wide and planted the spikes of her heels. The crotch of her panties parted, displaying pink flesh through the slit.
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“I don’t take orders, Jovanna. I’m not a bottom.” But desire punched him in the gut despite his refusal. A game took shape in his mind, a contest to decide whose will was stronger. He was determined to win. Her shrug didn’t surprise him. “Suit yourself. But we both know how bad you want to fuck me now after denying yourself last night. And the anonymity rules no longer apply. You made sure of that.” After saying her piece, she closed her eyes and eased back against the sofa’s burgundy cushions. Pale hands, black-tipped fingers—she spread them across her abdomen and lower, teasing her pussy through the damn opening in her panties. Smooth and silky, her bare lips smiled at him through the tempting slit. David’s cock twitched. He disregarded the eager length and leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. “The anonymity rules might not apply but I’m still not taking orders from you. Show me your clit.” She parted the fabric and slid her middle finger deep. His breath caught and pulse quickened as she withdrew and speared herself with a second finger. The long, sleek muscles of her inner thighs tensed and relaxed and he vividly remembered the tight, wet contraction of her flesh around his fingers. But she didn’t give him what he wanted. Instead, she hid the tiny bud beneath the heel of her palm. “Jovanna.” Need roughened his voice to a growl. “No,” she said, forceful and clear despite the quiver he noted in her thighs. “I’m in control today. Not you and not some prick who sneaks around in the dark. If you want something, you come get it on my terms. So you come here. Come here and lick me.” He tore his stare from her playing fingers and met her steady, direct gaze. Determination blazed in her blue eyes. Determination to conquer fear. He’d never been interested in perpetuating fear. Throwing the game, he stood and closed the narrow distance between them. She watched him come, her fingers motionless between her legs. “You’ve seen me,” she said, halting his approach. “I want to see you.” 36
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“We’re face-to-face.” But he knew what she wanted. Pulling his shirt from his pants and over his head, he gave again. Nakedness spoke of vulnerability and the more vulnerable he was, the safer she felt. Jovanna rewarded him for surrendering. Her eyes softened, sharing some of the hunger she hid. “More,” she said. “You’ve seen all of me.” “Your definition of ‘all’ needs some work, sweetheart.” He unbuckled his belt for her greedy stare. Stripteases weren’t in his usual repertoire of moves but the flush creeping across the rounded tops of her breasts made him file it away for a possible repeat. David lowered his zipper. Straightening, she brushed his hands aside and dragged his pants and boxers off his hips. “Oh.” Her surprised puff of breath greeted his flesh. “Oh. That’s new.” While she blinked at his uncircumcised cock, David tugged her hairband down the long, thick length of her ponytail. The ink-and-electric-blue strands spilled silkily over her shoulders. “I love your hair.” Something inane to distract him from the cool slide of her fingers over his head, down his shaft. She quickly figured out the utility of his foreskin and he hissed a curse as she worked the sheath up to his sensitive crown, down to the base. David wrapped her hair around his hand and tugged, urging her head back until their eyes met. Her fingernails pricked the taut surface of his balls, a silent reprimand for his controlling move. He bore the consequence without complaint. “Let go,” he said, “if you want me to eat you. Otherwise I’m going to come on your pretty face.” “You had better control last night.” She rolled his sac in her palm and squeezed gently.
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“That was last night. Let go.” “Fine. Get on your knees and make me come.” She released his hot flesh and reclined once more, challenge returning to her eyes. Holding her gaze, he finished stripping and crouched between her splayed legs. The position brought him close enough to smell her arousal and render the subservience of his posture meaningless. “You’re not making me do something I don’t want to do,” he warned. “I know.” She hooked her fingertip behind the slit in her panties and tugged, finally granting him the peek he wanted. Her clit stood taut, deeply flushed, shiny with her cream. David clasped her thighs, skin to skin above the lacy tops of her stockings, and closed in to taste her. Clean, hot, sweet, her flavor flowed over his tongue as he licked her from bottom to top. She jolted beneath his hands and mouth and groaned when he wrapped his lips around her clit to suck. Jovanna grasped his head and anchored his mouth tight to her pussy. He didn’t need her force. The exotic, spicy scents of her perfume and her arousal held him close. Releasing her thighs, he cupped her hips and worked his thumbs beneath the elastic edges of her panties. Wetness slicked the lips of her pussy. David thumbed each silky, sticky petal and spread her even wider, stretched the flesh surrounding her clit. His next long lick brought him back to the distended nub. Instead of sucking, he lashed the exposed crown with the tip of his tongue, scraped it with his teeth. Her ragged whimper brought his cock to a new height of pained hardness. Pre-cum smeared his inner thigh. With a groan of his own, he shifted to hold her open with one hand and fisted his cock. His rough strokes barely dulled the ache. As he thrust his tongue deep into her pussy and her inner muscles locked around him, he knew his fist didn’t even come close to comparing. Jovanna’s hold on his head changed abruptly. She shoved his mouth from her and slid off the sofa to straddle his thighs. 38
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“Condom,” she muttered, now face-to-face with him. Her eyes glittered, hot with need. Instead of reaching for his wallet, David thrust his hands into her hair and crushed her lips beneath his. She moaned into his mouth and opened wide, welcoming his tongue. Her fingernails raked lines down his chest. Somehow, the dynamic shifted. A subtle movement reinforced Jovanna’s control and before he knew it was happening, she was eating at his mouth. Releasing her hair, he seized her hips and dragged her down to his thighs. His cock slid against her pussy. Jovanna moaned and shoved at his shoulders. Seconds later, they both sprawled on the floor. Jovanna reared back, planted her palms on his stomach and her wet heat against his balls. “Condom. Now.” He reached for his pants. “Show me your nipples. But don’t take off that top.” “Put on a condom so I can fuck you.” Shaking her hair back from her shoulders, she reached into the tightly defined wiring of her corset and lifted her breasts into view. The sight of her breasts, pale and blue-veined, capped with the lightest pink he’d ever seen, gave him pause. And ideas. “I want you at Bondage Friday night. Say you’ll meet me.” “I might. Depends.” She cupped her breasts and pressed the mounds together. The stiff material of her corset dug into the lower curves, filling his head with images of her delicate flesh bound tight with silk ropes. “Agree,” he growled, fishing a condom from his wallet and holding it up between them. “Friday night or we stop now.” Her inky eyelashes swept low and she bowed her head. One of her long pink nipples vanished between her swollen lips. David dropped the foil square on his stomach and squeezed the cheeks of her ass, hauling her forward until he could grind
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the underside of his cock against her spread pussy. She shuddered and switched to her other nipple, tonguing the stiff peak. Holding her tight against his cock, he worked a finger beneath the flimsy strip of cloth between her cheeks and pressed against her anus. Her eyes popped open and she raised her head. David sat and sucked her wet nipple into his mouth. Delivered a sharp bite. “Friday!” she yelped, high on the last syllable. “Good.” He kissed her throat and relaxed back to the floor. Slanting him an evil glare, Jovanna snatched the condom from him and tore into the wrapper. She wasn’t gentle. Latex snapped against the base of his cock as she worked the sheath into place. When she lifted her hips and guided his head to the entrance, he shifted focus and watched. An inch at a time, she swallowed his cock through the slit in her panties and into the drenched heat of her tunnel. The sight of her flesh stretched by his undid him. He surged up into her, powerful and hard, not allowing her time to set a pace. Gasping, she folded forward. Her palms slapped the carpet at either side of his head. Craning his neck, he nipped at her mouth. She moaned into the kiss and followed him down until her breasts crushed into his chest. “Hurry,” she whispered, grinding her pussy against his pelvic bone every time they came together. Thank Christ she didn’t have a short fuse. David concentrated on the erratic flutter of her muscles around his cock and adjusted his hold on her hips. She shuddered when he separated her ass cheeks and shattered when he forced his middle finger into the tight passage he found. Jovanna’s elbows locked. Stiff and straight, her arms held her away from him but the sharp arch of her spine brought her nipples close. He latched on to one pink tip and sucked hard. Jovanna gasped his name and locked down tight around his cock. His
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orgasm rode hers—powerful, wrenching spasms emptied his balls. Her pussy was still clutching at him when she collapsed onto his chest.
***** Before she vanished from view, she said something. Her words were silent shapes formed by red lips. He didn’t need her voice in the tightly closed confines of his car. The ragged sound of his own breathing and the wet slap of his lubricated palm flying up and down his dick made up his personal soundtrack. He tossed his binoculars aside and pretended to thrust his cock through the snug grip of her pink-tipped tits and into the hot hollow of her red mouth. She wouldn’t be on top when he finally had her. No, she’d be pinned on her back, his bruise-colored noose tight around her neck, taking him into her throat until she gagged. “I’m going to make you come,” he whispered in the near-silence, his head full of plans for the bitch. An electric spark of peaking arousal darted from his groin to his knees. He smiled and closed his eyes, pumping his erection with slower, harder strokes. The dildo he bought just for her made him smile. Too big for any woman to take comfortably, the thick Pyrex cock would tear her up inside. Make her scream even as she choked on the semen he spurted down her throat. After, he’d tighten the noose while he forced her to come. Just what she deserved for ruining him.
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Chapter Four Saturday, 7:15 p.m. “Billy Idol?” Jovanna fought her way free of the lingering heat of pleasure and lifted her head from its comfortable spot in the warm bend of David’s neck. She squinted down at him. “Situationally appropriate.” He fumbled his phone from his pants pocket and took the call, ending the chorus of White Wedding. When she moved to roll off him, he locked his forearm behind her back and secured her against his chest. Phone to his ear, he answered with, “What’s going on?” She banished thoughts of David and weddings from her head and returned to her nest, nose pressed to his sage-and-citrus skin. While he listened to the feminine voice on the other end of the call, she tasted the salty hollow behind his ear. His abs tensed beneath her but he didn’t miss a beat in replying, “I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner. Order something for yourself.” David, home and females brought the wedding issue back to the fore. An uneasy knot formed in her stomach. He didn’t wear a wedding ring but that didn’t mean anything. Her ex hadn’t worn a ring either, because it was dangerous for a commercial chef to wear jewelry that could be caught in kitchen machinery or fall into food. She closed her eyes tight and prayed for girlfriend, not wife, because she didn’t screw married men and she still held this man’s cock inside her body. The exchange was brief. He tossed the phone aside and brushed his fingertips across her lower back. “Sister. In case you were wondering.” “I wasn’t,” she said into his hair. “Liar.” Her corset loosened.
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She should stop him from undressing her. He freed a second, then a third, clasp. As the pressure on her ribs eased, she dragged a deep breath into her lungs. What matter did it make if she ignored one more “should” where he was concerned? “She has high hopes of your lesbian leanings. I’ll have to correct her misconception before she gets her feelings hurt.” He unfastened the last clasp and spread his fingers between her shoulder blades. “Mmm. Women have their appeal but I don’t do family pairs.” She pushed herself up to sit on his groin, leaving her corset behind. David’s eyes immediately went to her breasts. He used his fingertip to draw a circle around her left nipple. “You’re blonde beneath all that dye, aren’t you?” “Lip and nipple colors aren’t reliable indications of hair colors.” He was definitely blond despite the flat brown discs of his nipples. Golden hair dusted his chest and arrowed down the center of his stomach toward a darker patch currently hidden between her thighs. “White-blonde, I figure. Any other shade, and I wouldn’t be able to see these.” He followed the faint blue path of a vein from the inner curve of her breast to her collar bone. “It makes me look like an albino.” David shifted beneath her, abrading the over-sensitive flesh between her thighs. She sucked in a quick breath and lifted to kneel above him while reaching for her corset. Her body instantly missed his occupation but she ignored the twinge of longing. Outside, the sun had faded to nothing, leaving behind a slowly darkening sky. “I need to get moving,” she said. “I wanted to be home before dark.” Frowning, he tugged the corset from her grasp and tossed it aside. “You’re still afraid.” “While nice in theory, in reality, my plan to dress from my dominatrix bitch underwear drawer and fake it through the day didn’t really make things any better.”
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She flashed a smile down at him and crossed her arms over her breasts. “I do like the view of you from on top though.” “Police should have forensics reports by Monday.” He sat with her and offered his t-shirt. “Wear this. I’ve got something else in the car.” “I don’t think they’re going to find anything. I guess my best hope is the asshole does something again and makes a mistake of some kind.” While he dealt with the condom, she pulled his shirt over her head and tried not to moan her appreciation of soft cotton and his scent. David’s knowing grin told her she failed at total silence. “Keep it. I have a spare in the car. Is the bathroom locked?” “Yeah, but you have my keys.” She climbed to her feet, wobbly on the four-inch heels after a day of standing in them followed by a powerful orgasm. Too bad David didn’t keep ballet flats in his car along with spare t-shirts. While he cleaned up, she tidied the store front and sprayed each sofa with a good layer of Febreeze. Just in case. She might be the boss, but being in charge didn’t mean nobody raised eyebrows at professional—or unprofessional—behavior. When she turned to close the Venetian blinds in the front window, her heart jumped into her throat and she choked on her own breath. The empty parking lot wasn’t empty. A man, his features indistinct in the gloom, turned away from the hood of her car and looked directly at her. “David?” She jerked away from the window and plastered herself to a tall sectional filled with unbleached wool ready to be dyed. In the bathroom at the back of the store, the toilet flushed. David hadn’t heard her. Sliding along the bank of display shelves, she positioned herself to see out the window without being seen.
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He wasn’t beside her car anymore. A gray blur of limbs half-ran across the field between her shopping strip and the community center across the way. Empty tennis courts stood in his path. As he hit the courts, the outdoor lights flared bright, finally activated by their timer. She lost him in the seconds she spent blinking to readjust her vision. “Dinner,” David said, stepping out of the bathroom. “Will you say yes this—what happened?” Jovanna swallowed hard and snapped the blinds into place. “He was outside. Maybe the whole time we were….” She trailed off, unable to stomach the thought. “He ran. I couldn’t get any details because the damn timers on the parking lot lights aren’t reliable.” “Ran which way?” David swiftly crossed the showroom floor to stare through the door. “Toward the community center.” Raking her hands through her hair, she paced away from the window and dug her phone from her purse. Paul answered on the second ring. “You can talk to my lawyer,” her ex-husband said by way of a greeting. “Wait. Don’t hang up.” Jovanna closed her eyes and blew out a breath, trying to drive the tremor from her voice. “Did you send someone after me?” “The police already contacted me and I’ll tell you the same thing I told them. You don’t mean enough to me to hunt you on the other side of the country. Lawyer, Jo. If you need anything else, you know his office number.” Paul ended the call. “I really wanted this to be some elaborate harassment arranged by my ex,” she said. “But he’s denying it.” “Do you believe him?” David asked before she turned around.
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“I don’t want to. If Paul isn’t responsible, I have no idea where to start.” Big change from her feelings several days earlier, when she’d been relieved she wouldn’t have to deal with her ex after such a long struggle for freedom. “I’m going outside,” David said. “I’m going to lock the door behind me. You should call the police again.” He slipped out and she placed the call. After, she spotted her tube of lip gloss wedged between the cushions of the window-facing sofa. A new, smaller panic washed over her. Had she missed any other evidence? Cheeks hot, she grabbed the lip gloss and checked everything one more time to be sure David’s socks weren’t hidden under a display or something crazy that would mortify her if found by a customer. Her cursory search turned up three knitting needles of various sizes and a gum wrapper but otherwise the area was clean. Except for the security feed. Hell. David would have to fix that. No. She would have to learn to fix it. Because that damn sense of safety was following her around again, cemented by his presence during a crisis. He returned minus the easygoing expression she’d come to associate with him. And wearing a fresh t-shirt, tan with the U.S. Army logo silkscreened across the chest. “Ex-soldier? That’s hot,” she said, searching for anything to alleviate the grim set to his mouth. He double-checked the locks and closed the blind over the door. “I wasn’t in long. Did you call the cops?” “Yeah. They’re sending an officer over.” Since he wasn’t going to bite the tension relief bait, she gave up on the idea. “Did you find something?” “Nothing you need to see. I’ll drive you home tonight and pick you up in the morning if you have to open the store.” He turned away from the door and pinned her with a commanding stare that brooked little argument. “If you give me a schedule for opening and closing, I’ll see to transportation until he’s caught.”
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“No,” she said flatly, ignoring the dominant position he gravitated to so naturally. “I’m not becoming some protected, trapped moth just because some dick is harassing me.” “I don’t think this is simple harassment. And your car needs to be checked out for signs of tampering.” “Fine. Yes, you’re right. It does need to be checked.” She sagged against the counter, strangely defeated by acknowledging her powerlessness. Voluntary surrender was one thing. Surrender out of necessity…she’d done so much of that through the course of her marriage that having to surrender now felt like being mugged. “I know you need your freedom.” David left his post beside the door and joined her where she stood near the business phone. Strong fingers stroked her cheek and urged her to meet his eyes. “I’m not trying to take it away from you. In any aspect of your life.” “I know.” She swallowed, caught by the heat in his eyes. Heat tempered by concern. Trying to ignore the hard plane of his chest, right there because he stood so close, she drew a deep breath and blew it out. Her nipples peaked on contact with the warmth of his pecs. Jovanna closed her eyes. “I know you’re not trying to move in but someone is and I hate it. I want to tell him to fuck off and leave me alone but he won’t give me a chance to respond. He’s trying to terrorize me from the shadows, like some dickless coward. It’s pissing me off.” “You’re responding by going about your life. That’s the only response you can give right now.” “I know. I know you’re right. It doesn’t feel like enough though.” She raked a hand through her hair and pulled at a knot with a grimace. “I probably look like hell. I’m going to pull myself together if you’ll watch for the police.” Leaving David with her keys, she locked herself and her bag in the small bathroom. By the time she emerged, the police had arrived. She found them in the parking lot taking David’s statement and photos of her car. One of the patrolmen had responded to 47
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the Wednesday night break-in. He separated himself from the rest and reintroduced himself before beginning his questions. Weary of repeating the same information three times in four days, she answered what she could and referred the officer to David where she couldn’t. “I have a stalker,” she said to David when he rejoined her. “That’s what he is now, isn’t it?” “I want to take you home and show you how to operate your new system,” he said instead of answering her question. Anger squared his jaw and lined the corners of his eyes. “The police found what might be a DNA sample. They’re going to run the sample and see if they get any matches. I’ve arranged to have your car towed and checked over for tampering that might affect its safety. And to have it detailed.” “Detailed. Right.” She shook off his touch and strode across the lot, ignoring David’s curse. Whatever the message was, she had to see it. When you’re mine, you won’t be on top. The words, shaped with angry slashes and deep gouges, marched across the hood of her car. Jovanna blinked rapidly, her spine numb with shock. “Damn it,” David growled behind her. He wrapped his arm around her ribs and pulled her away from the grim warning. “I’m taking her home,” he informed the nearest officer. “Call if you find anything.” Her earlier protests hung dead in the air. Jovanna forced herself to breathe while David lifted her into the passenger seat of his SUV and fastened the seatbelt across her chest. “He saw us.” She broke her silence several miles down the highway. “I knew it was a possibility someone would. I was stupid not to think of the windows first. Stupid not to stop and draw a line between my business and my personal life. But he saw us. And he was…what? What did that message really mean?” “He was offended. Means it’s a sex thing. Have you shunned anyone at Bondage?”
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“I don’t give my name there,” she reminded him. “Even if there was someone—and there wasn’t—he wouldn’t have known who I am.” “There’s no such thing as complete anonymity. Somebody could have followed you to your car or followed you home. Even though it’s unlikely, somebody could have bribed a staff member.” Jovanna hugged herself and David reached to adjust the thermostat. “Think about it instead of saying no outright,” he said. “He could be anyone. Someone whose wife took a knitting class at your shop and made him wear wool socks when he’s allergic to wool.” She snorted. “What happened to sexual?” “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe his wool allergy led to hives on his balls. I’m just saying you should think about it. Make a list if you have to. Write down the names of anybody you’ve been in contact with in the last two years. Anybody. Don’t stop to reason your way out of putting a name on the list.” He exited the highway and navigated her neighborhood with ease. “You really think that’ll turn up something useful?” she asked as he parked in her driveway. David cut the engine and faced her. “I think you’re not the type to sit back and passively take it. Even if you can’t respond directly, you can take steps to fight back. Make the list.” Sighing, she rubbed the back of her neck. “All right. I’ll make the list.” “Good.” He exited the vehicle and rounded the front to open her door. “Come on. I’ll show you what I installed this morning.” “Before we go in, I need to tell you I don’t want you to stay tonight.” She met his eyes, once more too close for comfort. Physically and emotionally. Being alone that night—maybe she didn’t want alone, but she had to draw a line somewhere. David’s jaw tightened but he nodded as if he understood the meaning of the line.
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Chapter Five Sunday, 1:39 a.m. David finished working through emails and tossed his phone on the passenger seat. He should have gone home and stayed there after demonstrating her new security features. Instead, he’d driven around aimlessly for forty-five minutes, stopped for dinner, gone home long enough to take care of the carnal evidence on her shop’s camera feed and headed out again. Something gnawed at his gut, preventing him from leaving her alone. Not sure he wanted to examine the issue, he glanced at Jovanna’s upstairs window for the hundredth time and stretched his legs out beneath the steering console. The window hadn’t been dark long. Maybe forty-five minutes. Prior to that, Jovanna had traveled from room to room in what appeared to be a restless, aimless pattern. He’d lay money on her dissatisfaction with being alone but he had to honor her insistence that he leave. She had an independent streak as wide as the Hudson River was long. Her fierce bid for independence seriously challenged his growing desire to protect her. Nothing at all wrong with her. Everything wrong with him. How had he gone from a man who preferred no-strings affairs to a man who wanted so many strings, one of Jovanna’s customers could knit a sweater with them? And was this a fleeting fascination or did he want something that would last longer than a handful of days? With a growl of frustration, he tripped the seat to recline and glowered at the sun roof overhead. Did what he wanted even matter?
***** Sunday, 2:47 a.m.
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Jovanna gave up trying to sleep and reached for her phone. ARE YOU AWAKE? Probably not. Silly to think he’d be waiting for her text, but knowing was better than not knowing. She could stop wondering whether he was tossing and turning too, and maybe get some sleep. Her phone vibrated to signal the incoming message. I AM NOW. SORRY. I’M NOT. Jovanna squeezed her eyes shut. Her house was quiet except for the hum of appliances and the fan she ran for white noise no matter the season. No threatening sounds or creaking boards prompted her to reach out for comfort. She didn’t want contact with David because she wanted comfort. She wanted— Another incoming message interrupted the thought. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? TRYING TO SLEEP. WHAT ARE YOU WEARING? She chuckled. ARE YOU SEXTING ME? HOPING FOR AN INVITATION TO CALL. YOU WON’T WAKE ANYBODY UP IF YOU DO. Several minutes passed. Jovanna threw off her comforter, slipped into the t-shirt she’d borrowed from him, and took her phone to the bathroom for a sip of water. Down to the kitchen for a glass of wine. Back to her bed. Nothing from David—not another text, not a call. Whatever. He could call or not call. She still had the matter of insomnia to deal with. Merlot at her elbow, she retrieved a knitting work in progress and set herself to
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the task of following the five-stitch pattern. Except the pattern was too easy and her mind was too preoccupied to empty. Paul. The UPS delivery guy. Her various suppliers. The police officers whose names she’d have to retrieve from the reports. The man who’d totaled her car and three others in the course of a drunken race on a rainy night. Jovanna twined her indigo silk-wool blend around her fingers and turned her incomplete sock for another round of instep work. The hit-and-run was three years ago. Frowning, she pushed the sock aside and grabbed a notepad from the drawer of her nightstand. Her phone vibrated. Slightly annoyed by David’s delay, she considered not answering. Only briefly. She wanted the sound of his voice. “I figured you went back to sleep,” she said in lieu of a traditional greeting. “You’re not the only one of us who has reservations.” Oh. That low, intimate rumble was worth the sacrifice of pride. But the words behind them—Jovanna bit her lip. “So you’re off the sexy and onto the serious?” “No. My cock overrode my reservations.” “Really.” She shuffled her knitting off the bed and relaxed against the pile of pillows at her back. “So you’d say your body’s in control of your actions.” “I’d rather say I’m in control of your actions. Tell me what you’re wearing.” She closed her eyes with the sudden leap of her pulse. Arousal thrummed through her veins, quick with its response to his gravelly command. He waited on the line, silent save the deep, even rhythm of his breathing. Knowing he wouldn’t speak again until she replied, she swallowed and obeyed. “The t-shirt you gave me earlier tonight.” “Did you shower after I left?” “Yes.” “Too bad. I’d like you smelling like me. Is my shirt the only thing you’re wearing?”
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“Yes.” She pressed her thighs together. “Anything else would be soaked right about now.” He laughed quietly. “Wet already, sweetheart?” “Do you want me to deny it?” “No. But I’d like to see for myself. Having a lick would be even better. On my terms this time. I wouldn’t let you come so fast.” Her breath hitched and she slid down the pillows to lie on her back. In the dark behind her closed eyes, she could imagine he was closer than the other side of town. “I’m not really into orgasm denial,” she murmured. “You’ll learn to appreciate anticipation.” “You think I’m going to give you the chance to hold out?” “I think you’re going to do whatever I say tonight and I say you can’t come until I tell you to come. Do you have anything good in your nightstand?” “Don’t tell me you didn’t take a peek while you were here today.” “I don’t violate privacy, Jovanna.” The easy softness of his tone hardened at the edges. “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry. Yes. I have a few items of interest.” “Which are?” “An anal plug. A Rabbit. Some erotica.” “Clamps?” “No. They’re not as enjoyable to play with solo.” “I want to screw clamps onto your nipples and watch your breasts bounce while I spank your pussy. Friday night.” Her throat dried up, all the moisture in her body redirected. “You like a little more than just control in your sex.”
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“You like a little more than just kissing and stroking. Do you have a problem with what I want?” He paused a beat and added, “I want you in a public scene. Not hidden away in the Blue Suite.” “I have rules,” she whispered, token protest because she knew she was on the verge of agreeing to break them. “Are they open to negotiation?” “Not tonight. I can’t think clearly when I’m this turned-on. What are you doing right now?” “Talking to you. Mentally replaying the footage from this evening. I cleaned the video feed for you. Your ass is pretty when you’re riding my cock.” She smiled in the dark. “I didn’t peg you for amateur porn.” “It’s not usually my thing but I can make an exception for you.” He hesitated before saying, “I seem to be making a lot of exceptions for you.” “Did you masturbate?” She shied away from the deeper layers of their connection. Just sex. “Yes. I’m going to again, now, while I listen to you fuck yourself with the Rabbit. Get it out of the drawer.” Jovanna rolled onto her side and turned off the lamp before retrieving the wicked vibrator. Her pussy clenched in eager anticipation, ready to be filled, ready to clutch the silicone sheath while she bucked for the rabbit ears vibrating against her clit. “Why do you want a public scene?” She returned to her back and spread her legs, knees raised. The fan at the other end of her bedroom sent a cool breeze along the hot flesh of her inner thighs and the hotter flesh of her slit. He didn’t respond. He was still there—she knew that, could hear him breathing— but his silence prompted her to ask, “David?” “Because I want to mark you. Does that scare you?” “You want to do more than mark my skin. So yes, it does.” 54
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“I don’t want to. I never want more than a mutually satisfying fuck. This is more like need than want. Do you have your Rabbit?” She swallowed and addressed the simplest part of that. “Yes. Can I use it?” “Keep my shirt on but push it up past your breasts. Have you ever used a vibrator on your nipples?” “No.” One hand curled around her phone, she rested the dildo on her stomach and did as she was told. The fan’s low-speed breeze caressed her ribs and instantly pushed her nipples into tight peaks. “Spread your legs wide like you’re showing me your pussy and use those Rabbit ears on your nipples.” “You have a thing for my breasts.” But she set the vibe to a low setting and teased her left nipple with the slender silicone ears. Nipple play wasn’t something she sought very often. The teasing was too delicate and she preferred deep, hard, hot and fast. Instant or near instant satisfaction. “I have a thing for watching you. Someday I’m going to make you stand in front of me licking and sucking while I jerk off.” His breath caught. Hers did too as the Rabbit ears sped across one tight peak and she caught the image he created. Conjured up some images of her own. David in the dark of his office, kicked back in a leather chair with his cock in his hand—she moistened her lips and switched the vibrator to her other breast, sinking into the sound of his breathing. The mechanical hum smoothed out other noise from the background. In the dark, she could pretend they were close, that he really was standing at the foot of her bed watching. Spreading her knees wider and tucking her heels close to her ass, she arched into the breeze from the fan. Wanted the breeze to be his breath. “David,” she murmured. “Yeah?”
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“I’m in the mood for you to be on top.” The silicone ears tickled her skin as she switched to teasing her other nipple, which quickly tightened to match its twin. “On top or the top? We should have that discussion.” “I told you, not tonight.” “Yeah, not while you’re turned-on. So I’m going to stop stroking my dick and you’re going to switch off that vibe and we’re going to talk.” Her fist tightened around the vibrator and refusal slid to the tip of her tongue. But he was right. With a sigh, she flipped the switch and dropped the vibe on the mattress. Still turned-on though, despite the removal of stimulation. She didn’t seem to need much more than the rhythm of his breathing to heat her up. “Let’s talk,” she said. “What do you want to know?” “I’m not a lifestyle Dom and I’m not looking for someone who will walk around with lowered eyes and a chorus of meek ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ lines. But I do want someone who isn’t going to shove me away and challenge my right to open communication.” Jovanna swallowed. “Sounds like you want more than a little casual sex.” “I don’t usually.” He exhaled, loud enough to carry over the whir of her fan. “I make a point to not want more than casual sex.” “But you want more than that with me.” “You are a very dynamic woman, which kind of pisses me off. You weren’t supposed to be dynamic. You were supposed to be a sweet ass attached to great legs with a tempting attraction to a good flogging.” She snorted softly. “Sorry.” “What’s done is done,” he said. She detected a smile behind the words despite his resigned tone. Her lips curved in response. “Not done yet. We can both hang up and I can find a different security company and we can go our separate ways. I don’t have to keep going to Bondage.” 56
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“I don’t want to back off.” No more hint of a smile. “I was married for ten years.” She cringed at the defensiveness in her words but couldn’t take it back. Decided not to apologize for it. He cursed beneath his breath, something short and indistinct. “I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m asking you if you’re open to a relationship that’s more than me spanking your ass in a club and cashing your checks for security maintenance.” Pressing her thighs together, she rolled onto her side and stared at the street lamp glowing outside the window. “I didn’t think I wanted anything else yet.” “Didn’t? But now?” Even though he couldn’t see the gesture, she shrugged. “I’m trying to make sure I want to be near you because I want you, not because I want somebody who will run to my rescue. I’m not sure this is a great time for me to be making any kind of commitment. My emotional motivations are twisted all around wanting you and being afraid of something I can’t fight.” “All right. I can wait. Do you want me to back off until the police come up with something?” Her chest constricted at the prospect. “No.” “Then what do you want me to do?” “I want you to come back over here and sleep with me.” “Sleep,” he repeated. “Yeah. You know, the thing you do in bed until morning.” She curled her toes in the tangle of linens at the foot of the bed and added, “The thing you do after you screw me senseless.” A soft thump sounded from his end of the connection and his voice was more alert when he asked, “Do you really want me knocking on your door tonight?” Feeling small and weak and more than a little absurd for her lack of backbone in the face of her own decisions, she nodded. “Yes.” 57
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“You should go downstairs then.” He ended the call. Outside, a car door slammed. Heart hammering in her ears, Jovanna bolted upright. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” she mumbled as she crossed to peek past the drapes. Down in the community parking lot, a familiar masculine figure prowled across a row of empty spaces in a path headed straight for her front door. Behind him, she spotted the boxy shape of his SUV. She muttered another colorful curse before racing down the stairs. David didn’t knock but he was waiting, one shoulder braced against the wall beside the door, when she looked out the narrow foyer window. Her motion-sensor porch light spotlighted him from behind, leaving shadows along the slope of his neck and beneath his jaw. Lower, the prominent ridge of his erection sent up a responding flush of heat to her pussy. She hadn’t pushed arousal very far away despite the serious turn their call had taken. Acutely aware of her state of undress, she fumbled through deactivating the alarm system. Didn’t stop to think about the real ramifications of letting him into her house and waking up beside him in the morning. If they were plunging head first into something more permanent…well, so be it. She yanked the door open and stared at him through the screen he’d installed that morning. “Have you been out there all night?” Shaking his head, he straightened away from the wall. “I went home and decided I needed to be here even if you didn’t need me here.” He reached for the door but stopped short of opening it. “Have you changed your mind?” “No.” She stepped back. David pulled the door open. Crossed the threshold. Caught the material of the tshirt she wore, bunching the cotton between her breasts in his fist. “I’m not in the mood for games right now.”
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Dredging up the honesty hidden behind the anxiety, she said, “I want you to fuck me.” Using his grip on her t-shirt, he drew her forward. Jovanna curled her fingers around his biceps, surrendering control. David kicked the door shut and turned them both. He pinned her to the door, fingers spread between her breasts, and covered her mouth. She’d never had sex with a man so interested in kissing, had at some point decided the mouth-to-mouth attraction was something pursued primarily by women. David didn’t deliver anything like the soft, lazy kisses she’d shared with other women though. No such thing as watermelon-flavored tongues stroking and teasing, sharing gum and asking unspoken questions. He had no questions to ask, only answers to give. Or take. Whatever. She opened for him, accepting his intent. Penetration, possession, stealing her breath—everything David wanted, he conveyed in the hard, deep taking. His hands fell to her hips and jerked her forward against the hard line of his cock. Something else he intended to give. Interested and eager, she tore the hem of his shirt from his waistband and wedged her fingers between them to unfasten his pants. He grasped the back of her thigh, opened her legs and angled her against the door. Still hot and wet and strong against her tongue. Jovanna hooked her calf behind his back and fumbled in his rear pocket for his wallet. As soon as she touched foil, she dropped the leather to the floor and tore her mouth from his. “Now,” she gasped, sucking gulps of air while she had the chance. “Not now.” He ducked his head and found a bare patch of skin where his t-shirt slid off her shoulder. His teeth scored her flesh, a hard, deep bite that burned pleasure straight to the bone beneath, and plunged his fingers into her pussy from behind. Not long enough. Almost immediately, he withdrew and stroked a wet line between her bare cheeks.
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“Now,” he murmured, dark and intent at her ear, “I’m going to turn you around and fuck your ass. I’m finished envying a dildo.” As quick as his promise, David spun her and flattened her breasts against the door. She reflexively rose on tiptoe, pushed back toward him, unashamed of the weakness he’d so quickly homed in on. Turning her head, she rested her cheek against the cool panel and closed her eyes tight. “Hard,” she pleaded. “I like it hard.” He nipped her ear and shoved the t-shirt hem up around her waist. “You like it to hurt.” “Yes,” she whispered, suddenly anxious. Many men would balk at the idea, freak out and retreat with hot desire suddenly gone cold. David spread her cheeks. The slide of lubricated latex between the globes, along the crease, proved him once more unlike other men. Jovanna pressed her fingertips against the door and drew a deep breath, released it when he aligned himself at her pucker. She deliberately tightened her inner muscles, purposefully resisted his push. With a soft curse, he grasped her hips and bit her ear. “Do you want me to force it?” She nodded, her cheek sliding along the wood. “Please.” His blunt fingernails dug into the tender flesh below her pelvic bones. Jovanna spread her arms wide and grasped the raised surface of the door frame. Bracing herself. Because he wouldn’t disappoint her. And he didn’t. With no more warning than the flex of his fingers at her hips, he drove into her. Jovanna shrieked through the sudden burn, the lance of pain that stabbed from those tiny nerve endings all the way to her fingers and toes. Her pussy creamed even more wet with the lightning-fast metabolism of pain into pleasure. Hot, mind-melting pleasure. David didn’t let it fade.
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He shoved her hips forward off his cock, yanked her back into another hard thrust. Her nipples jabbed painfully against the unyielding surface of the door. Jovanna arched her back, writhing for the bite of sensation. Behind her, he breathed a soft curse and pistoned forward. Again. “Let me hear how much it hurts,” he muttered. She couldn’t have silenced herself if she tried. A high whimper caught in her throat, preceding a yelp of surprise to answer his abrupt withdraw and re-entry. David barred his forearm across her stomach and locked her against his abs, digging deep with each short, stabbing thrust. His fingers speared between her legs, into her pussy and out again, up to cruelly pinch her clit. A jolt of shock spiked up her spine. He repeated the rough treatment, twisting her distended flesh with ruthless determination. Whatever he wanted out of her, she wanted to give it. Strained to give it. “God,” she moaned, one knee jammed against the door. “Oh God.” “You’re going to come,” he whispered. Command instead of observation. He spread her labia, thumbed back the hood of her clit and scraped her exposed nerves with his fingernail. She broke, just for him. Just for the irrefutable power he held over her in that moment. David groaned behind her. Supporting her weight with his forearm beneath her breasts, he thrust over and over again into the fist of muscle clamping down hard on his cock. She should have cared about his satisfaction but she couldn’t summon the energy to focus beyond the crest of pleasure crashing over her. Despite her thin grasp on reality, David came. She felt him jerk and his hold on her ribs tightened to something near pain. He cursed into her hair and clutched her inner thigh through the flash of his own climax. As David stilled inside her, the most debilitating blades of sensation softened and dulled. She dropped her forehead against the door and exhaled a shuddering breath. “I don’t know how you do this to me.”
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His hold relaxed. He trailed his fingertips over her thigh and snaked his hand beneath her t-shirt to possessively claim her breast. “I want you enough to pay attention.” “I want you too.” “Yeah.” He slowly withdrew, leaving her empty and shaking. “Yeah. I know you do. But I want you for more than fucking. What are we going to do about that?” “Talk about it tomorrow?” She finally released her grip on the door frame. David squeezed her breast before backing away. His footfalls receded down the hall. A moment later, the whir of the bathroom fan told her where he’d gone. She groaned against the door, afraid she wouldn’t want him any less come the light of day.
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Chapter Six Friday, 3:30 p.m. She’d managed to dodge the morning-after discussion about their relationship when an equipment malfunction called David away before dawn Sunday morning. She’d also managed to avoid him the rest of the week between their respective commitments. Friday sneaked up on her and with it, her agreement to meet him again at Bondage. By mid-afternoon, she still hadn’t decided whether she could consent to a public scene with him. An appointment with her accountant and an early evening class provided a handy excuse to continue not deciding. “I am so glad you’re here,” her assistant manager, Tina, blurted when Jovanna stepped through the door and into a crowd of chatty knitters. “I’ve misplaced my keys and all the materials for the spinning class are in the stock room. Can I borrow yours?” Frowning, she handed her keys to the other woman. “Let me know if you don’t find them. We’ll have to make arrangements for opening tomorrow.” Maybe she could beg off meeting David with the excuse of having to open. “I’m sure they’re somewhere,” Tina replied. “I’ll look again after I get your class set up.” Tina headed to the back of the store and Jovanna smiled at a customer who caught her eye from the counter. Fifteen minutes and one circular needle demonstration later, she found herself face-to-face with a young, familiar-looking blonde. “Can I help you?” She couldn’t place the sense of recognition. The young woman smiled sheepishly. “I’m Melanie. David’s sister. I wanted to introduce myself and say hi.”
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Hello awkward. Jovanna blinked past her surprise and finally realized the resemblance. Melanie had David’s eyes and a narrow, feminine version of his nose and chin. Melanie bit her lip. “Um.” “Sorry.” Jovanna shook herself out of awkward. “Melanie. The other end of the Billy Idol ringtone.” David’s sister rolled her eyes. “My brother is so old. That ringtone’s embarrassing. I’m very well-behaved.” Jovanna chuckled. “I’m sure you are.” “Right?” Melanie quirked a grin. “Maybe you could tell him to relax and put away his shotgun. Over dinner with us tonight.” “Oh. Tonight. I, uh—” “Have plans with him. Yeah, he mentioned. But he’s being selfish with you so I figured I’d invite myself to the dinner portion. Do you mind?” Gah. Her Friday night appointment-slash-date already had her on edge. Sharing a table with his sister beforehand— “It’s cool if you don’t want to,” Melanie said, interrupting Jovanna’s panic. “I just thought I’d ask.” “I do want to,” Jovanna surprised herself by saying. “I just—” Melanie squealed and hopped in place, her blonde bob bouncing at her jaw. “Yay! Do you have anything against seafood?” “I…no. Fish never did me wrong,” she said, helpless in the face of Melanie’s exuberance. As David’s sister entered Jovanna’s cell number into her address book, Jovanna privately wondered whether the sinking feeling in her stomach was more a result of worrying about family dinner pitfalls or a result of the growing inevitability of
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something “more” with David. With anybody, really. A signal from Tina reminded her she didn’t have time to cringe over what was shaping up to be an actual relationship. “See you at eight!” Melanie called out as Jovanna stepped away to welcome her class. At fifteen after seven, Jovanna saw her last customer out the door and locked up. Tina’s keys were still missing despite a thorough search. The other woman left with the intention of searching at home after realizing she didn’t remember having them in her hand the entire day. Jovanna snapped the blinds closed with a sigh and went to work tidying the disarray left by a busy Friday crowd. One more excuse to delay meeting Melanie and David at the popular restaurant Melanie had chosen via text message. As she got down on her knees to straighten the yarn bins closest to the floor, the chime of the bell over the door dropped her heart into her stomach. She’d locked that door. “If you move I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head,” the intruder warned. She knew him. Jovanna swallowed against a surge of bile and spread her fingers on the floor. Terror jacked her heart rate to a roar in her ears but she knew his voice. Nasal and too high to be attractive on a man, that voice had hurled obscenities at her across a courtroom. She should have finished making David’s list. Heavy footsteps approached her from behind. Acutely aware of her vulnerability, she made a mental sweep of the store. Her cell phone was in her bag behind the counter. The landline phone was behind the counter too, along with the panic switch for her alarm system. Jim Katt, the man who’d run her off the road and into a telephone post, totaling her car and hospitalizing her with a broken clavicle, stopped behind her. “Hold up your head.” Her breath wheezed from her chest. “What do you want?” He drove the toe of his boot into her hamstring. “Bitch, when I tell you what to do, you do it. Hold up your fucking head.” 65
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She bit off a cry of pain and caught herself before her face smashed into the yarn bin in front of her. Before she could raise her head, Katt grabbed the back of her hair and jerked her up onto her knees. He dropped a scratchy rope over her head and yanked hard, tipping her over onto her side. The rope tightened painfully. Gasping for breath, she clawed at the thick braid of…yarn. God. The skeins he’d stolen. Muttering beneath his breath, Katt dragged her across the store, using the yarn rope as a leash. She flailed blindly, grasping for anything. Her nails tore on the leg of a fixture as Katt hauled her away. “First it was about money,” Katt said. “But I figured I was never going to get my money back from you so I’d have to take something else.” “Don’t…owe…” Jovanna tried to jam her fingers beneath the rope in an effort to create some space she could breathe through. Her throat burned over the words she managed before she gave up on speaking. “Shut up.” He dragged her past the spindle display, the unbleached yarns, the small selection of how-to books. The wall of needles loomed in front of her face. Desperate, she grabbed at the lowest display. Three packages of needles came off in her hand and fell to the floor when her reflexes failed to latch on. Vision blurring, she scrabbled in the display one more time before Katt pulled her out of reach. The cardboard edges of a piece of packaging pinched her palm but she had it. Katt pulled her into the tiny bathroom and dropped the rope. Her head bounced off the base of the toilet. She curled around her stomach protectively, wary of a kick, but he backed away after tying her to the pipes beneath the sink. “You stay there. I’ll be back.” He closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the bathroom. Blinking through her dizziness, she clawed at the rope until she got enough slack to wrestle it over her head. The full sight of the silk wool noose twisted her stomach. Not a rope. A noose. He’d made a noose for her.
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Shaking, she lurched to her knees and slid the cover off the toilet tank. He’d find his weapon there soon enough if he really wanted it, but he’d check the trash first and maybe she’d have a chance to scramble past him. A crash sounded on the other side of the door. Jovanna jumped and whirled to flatten her back against the wall. Another crash followed. Then silence. Swallowing down her panic, she shook the needles she’d snagged out of their cardboard sleeve. Fourteen inches of aluminum. Not a knife, but they’d do some damage.
***** With a sense of peace even he recognized as slightly off-balance, Jim systematically smashed every one of the store’s security cameras before he removed his mask. He wanted her to know him when he crouched above her. Wanted to feel the gouge of her fingernails on his face if she decided to fight back. But he wanted to savor the experience too. So he sat on the sofa that faced away from the window and smiled at the memory of watching her come. And he made her wait too. The longer she waited, confused and afraid, the wetter she’d be when he took his turn.
***** Friday, 8:17 p.m. “She said she’d meet us at eight,” Melanie said after the server left their table for the fifth time. David checked his phone for the tenth time but he knew there was still nothing from Jovanna, no text or voicemail. Frustration burned in his stomach. “You shouldn’t have set this up, Mel. She and I aren’t in a relationship the way you understand relationships. She probably decided she couldn’t deal with the family thing.”
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“She was fine. She’d have said no if she didn’t want to come,” his sister replied sullenly. “I bet she got hung up at the store. I think the other employee had some kind of problem with her keys.” Foreboding chilled the back of his neck. “What kind of problem?” Melanie shrugged. “I guess the other woman lost her keys. She had to borrow Jovanna’s.” “Come on.” David tossed a twenty on the table for their drinks and the server’s time and stood, already dialing Jovanna’s number. “We’re leaving?” Melanie rose with a frown. “What if she’s just running late?” Jovanna didn’t answer. “She’s not just running late.” Leaving Melanie to follow, he strode from the restaurant.
***** Friday, 8:42 p.m. Sweat soaked the back of Jovanna’s shirt and her forearm cramped, she’d been clutching her needles so long. Katt hadn’t made a sound in forever. He was still out there. She knew he was there without needing any proof. Whatever he wanted from her, he wasn’t going to walk away without taking it. She flexed her fingers around the needles. Or without trying. If he didn’t make a move soon, she was going to scream. “He has a gun,” she mumbled, four words she’d repeated so many times she’d lost count. Whenever she began to talk herself into bursting from the unlocked bathroom to make a run for the door, she repeated the reminder. Katt had a gun. She had knitting needles. Her best shot of disabling him would be a close-range strike. If only he’d fucking do something.
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The doorknob turned. Heart hammering in her throat, Jovanna rose to a low crouch. Katt pushed the door open and angled toward the sink, where she was no longer tied. She catalogued details in some odd slow-motion scope. He’d removed his mask. He wore boots. He held a glass phallus in his right hand. He did not hold a gun. “Bitch,” he growled, and whirled on the door. Jovanna sprang from her crouch, refusing to think about the trajectory of her underhanded punch. Pitching a softball. She was— Kat howled and dropped the phallus. He sank to his knees, driving her needles deeper. She released the makeshift weapon before her muscles fully registered the meaning of the fleshy impact. Before blood stained her fingers. Leaving Katt screaming on the floor, she bolted. Handbag—because she needed her keys. Panic switch—because she needed David. Katt wouldn’t stop screaming. Gasping for breath, she exploded from the shop and slammed into a body. “Christ.” David’s voice. Strong arms banded around her, pinning her elbows to her sides. He whipped around, propelling both of them away from the door. “Nine-one-one,” she choked past a sudden flood of tears. “Stabbed him. Oh God. I stabbed him. I’m going to go to prison. Or—” “Shh, sweetheart.” David shoved her face against his chest, muffling her panicked babbling. “Police are on the way. For him, not you.” “He’s inside,” she sobbed. “And you’re not anymore.” A car door opened. David lifted her into the backseat of his SUV just as the strobe of emergency lights pulsed into view. “Melanie, lock the doors. You,” he said, wiping tears from her cheeks and forcing her eyes to his, “stay here. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 69
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“I stabbed him,” she whispered. “Bastard probably deserved it,” Melanie said. “Probably deserved even more.” “Stay here.” David kissed her hard, directly on the lips, before closing the door and turning to greet the police. “They’re going to want to talk to me eventually,” Jovanna mumbled, sagging in the seat. “Not for a little while. Here.” Melanie shoved a half-full bottle of water into her hand. “Pretend it’s vodka or something.” “Thanks. I’m sorry about dinner.” “You are not allowed to apologize.” The young woman rummaged through her bag and produced a handful of items. Minty chewing gum, a hair brush, a bottle of Tylenol. She pushed them on Jovanna, encouraging her to find some kind of comfort in ritual. The sight of the painkillers brought attention to her aching throat. She carefully swallowed two with all the water. Outside, police moved back and forth between her shop and their patrol cars. An ambulance arrived a short time later. EMTs carried a stretcher into the store and back out again. David said something to an officer before crossing the lot and climbing into the driver’s seat. He reached back between the seats to touch her thigh. “They’ll take your statement tomorrow. Do you want to go to the emergency room?” Jovanna shook her head. “I want a shower.” He glanced at his sister, who made a studious effort of occupying herself on her phone, before looking back to Jovanna. “Do you want me to take you home?” “I…not really.” Melanie shifted in her seat, giving up the pretense of distraction. “Would you want to be alone? She wants to come home with us.” David raised an eyebrow, silent question. Jovanna nodded. “Do you mind?” 70
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“No.” He and Melanie spoke in unison. Melanie added, “You can sleep with me.” “Nice try.” David snorted. Dropping her head against the headrest, Jovanna closed her eyes and listened to the pair murmur in the front seat. Melanie turned on the radio to a station playing something girly and gum-snappy. She knew she’d have to talk to the police and deal with the damage to her shop in the morning. Maybe Monday. But she wanted to talk about her relationship with David instead, preferably while wrapped in one of his shirts and ensconced in his bed. She could use some pleasant things. David parked in the driveway of a Cape Cod in a quiet residential neighborhood. The house surprised her. She’d expected him to live somewhere more urban. Maybe a condo. Somewhere in the neighborhood, a family had a late grill going. The scent of charcoal and the distant sound of laughter helped her bridge the wide gap between danger and safety. She didn’t get a good look at the interior of the house. Cherry wood and earthy colors were her only real impressions before David ushered her up the stairs with a word of good night to Melanie. “I should have left a sign on the door,” she said on the upstairs landing. “Saturdays are busy. I’m going to have pissed-off customers.” “Police tape will be enough of a sign.” For the first time since he made her meet his eyes in the car, she turned and faced him directly. Frown lines pinched the corners of his mouth and anger radiated in practically tangible waves. Her stomach tightened. “I’m a mess. I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be dragged into something like this. I doubt damsel-rescue was on your to-do list this month.”
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“If you want to apologize for something, apologize for doing everything in your power to keep me at a distance. It’s unfair to refuse people who care about you the privilege of actually caring.” She flinched. “I didn’t want you to care.” “Some things are out of your control.” His voice dropped, low for her ears only. “Some things have nothing to do with who’s on top or who submits.” Jovanna swallowed. “What if I want you to care now?” “I guess that depends. Will you still want me to care tomorrow?” “Yeah, I will.” “Then you’re in luck.” He caught her hand and pulled her off the landing into a dark room rich with his scent. “Come on. I’ll wash your back and you’ll start telling me what’s twisted you up so much that you work this hard to be by yourself.” “I’m sure it’s boring,” she protested. “You naked could make binary code exciting.” She chuckled, sense of humor surfacing despite the events of the evening. “Will you return the favor and tell me stories while you’re not wearing any pants?” “Absolutely. Just name the date.” “I’ll have to check my calendar,” she said, deciding to make room for him in her life for as long as he was interested in the prospect.
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Epilogue Three months later Jovanna discreetly turned away from the collaring ceremony taking place on a dais erected in the middle of Bondage’s small dance floor. Something about the permanency of the ritual bothered her. Being bothered…that bothered her even more. “Commitment issues.” David spoke at her ear, his palm a warm weight above her elbow. She slanted him a sidelong glance as they moved a respectful distance away from the collaring Dominant and his submissive, who’d practically glowed at the sight of the diamond choker her Dom presented. “Really? That’s your diagnosis, doctor?” He drew her into an alcove and slid his arms around her waist. “You’ve never denied it before. Why so prickly tonight?” The now-familiar shape of his lips beckoned hers despite her discomfort. Jovanna frowned and stared at his chin. He was right. She hadn’t denied her fiendish attachment to independence prior to now. Except silently, to herself, more and more often since the night of the first break-in at her shop. “I don’t know,” she answered, still not willing to admit out loud that she might be ready for another attempt at happily-ever-after. “Are you going to make me beat the liar out of you?” His kiss skimmed her ear, softening the question. “We’d both enjoy it and you still owe me something public. As much as I like disappointing the men who haven’t figured out you’re no longer free to try, I’d rather concentrate on you than them.” Behind them, the volume of club goers increased, signaling the end of the collaring ceremony. The club’s signature heavy-bass, throbbing-beat music resumed and her pulse kicked up with it. Jovanna relaxed against David’s chest, crushing her breasts 73
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against her silk tank top and his cotton shirt. “I think we would both enjoy that,” she answered, breathing in the herbal scent of his aftershave. His fingertips skimmed her spine, which might as well have been naked for the flimsy barrier her top provided. Cupping the back of her head, he claimed a hard, hot kiss. “I don’t need a ceremony, sweetheart. Don’t worry about that.” She gave a silent nod and eased away. David tangled their fingers together and drew her from the alcove. Together they skirted the dance floor, once more packed with leather and skin on display, and headed for the play room. Anticipation overcame anxiety as they crossed the threshold. Even though she had no interest in the role of a 24/7 sub, Jovanna felt herself more and more frequently craving the flat of David’s hand against her skin and the freedom she found in surrendering to his dominance. Sometimes, she wondered whether she was clinging too hard to her idea of social freedom. But not tonight. She wanted to focus on the building hum of arousal, not struggle with her hang-ups. “There.” David interrupted her seesawing thoughts and directed her toward a long, narrow bench crouched beneath a pair of cuffs hanging from the ceiling. “That’s where I want you. Naked and on your knees.” He slid his hands into his pockets and stood still, watching her expectantly. Lips pursed, Jovanna held his gaze a moment before turning and walking to the bench. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention and Mikal’s black-clad shape separated from the shadows along the walls. She refused him with a slight shake of her head. Strange to realize she didn’t need his mostly silent guardianship anymore. Strange to realize her rules were changing. Now she had David to protect her limits and guarantee her well-being when she was rendered physically vulnerable by restraints and emotionally vulnerable by ecstasy. Jovanna reached behind her back and unfastened the clasp that held her top in place at the nape of her neck. The slinky material parted from that point, leaving her room to ease her arms from the sleeves and slide the bit of silk down her hips and over
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her heels. She straightened to find David’s focus on her breasts. Her nipples tightened instantly at his regard. He withdrew something small and shiny from his pocket and hid the item in his fist. “More, sweetheart. Keep going.” The intent gleam in his eyes, combined with the soft crack of leather on flesh from a scene taking place behind her, sent a shiver to her toes. David’s nostrils flared. Recalling the first time she stripped for him, Jovanna lowered the zipper at her hip and shimmied out of her skirt. She wouldn’t be denying him anything this time, not placing any conditions upon his satisfaction. Not making any demands about the timing or method of hers. “These too?” She slid a fingertip beneath the lacy top of her stocking and raised an eyebrow. The club’s music pulsed around them but she didn’t doubt for a second that David would hear her as easily as she heard him. In the months since she’d slept in his bed, they’d discovered an interesting—sometimes frightening to her reluctant-tocommit self—attunement. Shaking his head, he closed the small distance between them and unfastened the clasp holding her hair at her nape. David stood close enough that she could feel his erection at her hip. Her stiff nipples rose against his shirt, sought his heat. “You look more than a little scared.” He pressed his thumb to the pulse point below her ear. “Afraid I’ll make you beg?” “Afraid you’ll eventually make me want more than I’m comfortable asking for.” She offered a small, wry smile. “I’m pretty sure you’ll make me beg.” “You never have any problems letting me know when you want to come.” His palm slid from her shoulder to her wrist, leaving her nerve endings alert in the wake of his touch. With a light tug, he turned her toward the bench. “Hop up here and give me your hands.” She knelt on the bench and raised her arms toward the cuffs dangling overhead. David placed a kiss in her left palm before securing her wrist in the padded restraints. 75
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He repeated the tender gesture for her right hand. The breath shuddered from her lungs. Mikal had always taken good care of her but his care had been impersonal. Butterflies jigged in her stomach as the reality of this settled more firmly into her bones. “David?” “Hmm?” He tested the strength of the chains with his weight before looking down at her. “How can I help you?” She moistened her lips and met his eyes. “Submission isn’t something I practiced during my marriage. That was…being unwillingly controlled. And I’ve never come here before with a partner. I’ve always come on my own.” David slid his fingers between hers and squeezed her hands, concern in the set of his mouth. “Do you want to stop now and go somewhere to talk?” “I…no. I just wanted to tell you.” “What else do you want to tell me?” Heat flushed her cheeks but she made herself hold his gaze and speak. “I’m a little freaked out by how turned-on I am at the prospect of surrendering myself to you. You. Face-to-face. Without anything remotely anonymous.” “Do you want me to give you a blindfold?” Shaking her head, she said, “No. I want you to hurry up and get started so I can stop thinking and start begging.” Relief sounded in his laugh. “Should I surprise you next time instead of planning?” Finally arousal surged over anxiety, directing her along a clear path of response. David catching her unaware, rope in hand and ready to play? “God, yes.” “A surprise assault is within my power.” He released her hands, dropped into a crouch in front of her and enveloped her right nipple in one quick movement. Jovanna gasped, her back bowing under the unexpected onslaught. Teeth from the start, no gentle licking or sucking. David drew hard enough to make her flinch. Sharp little darts of pain seared a path straight to her clit as he flicked his tongue across the 76
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now-distended tip of her nipple. Her head sagged until she found herself staring at the ceiling and the chains attached to her cuffs. He squeezed her hip and directed his attention to her other breast, delivering the same rough, wet treatment. And suddenly she knew what he was going to do. She whipped her head up and looked down at him, watching his mouth at her breast. David glanced up, held her gaze as he sucked her left nipple into a tight peak. He finished with a bite and held up a bit of gleaming metal. “Remember?” he asked. “Yeah,” she whispered. And she remembered the other part of his fantasy. Her pussy creamed on a hot pulse of anticipation. With a short nod, he flicked his tongue across her nipple and gathered the pale mound firmly in his grasp. The clamp was a cold bite around her hot flesh but its chill only momentarily distracted her. David tightened the screw and her focus narrowed down to the imprisoned pink tip. By the time he compressed her nipple into the second clip, her breath was coming quick and short. He sat back to admire his work, appreciation fully evident in the prominent outline of his cock, thick and hard behind his fly. “This isn’t just about me,” she realized out loud. “No. But it always has been before, hasn’t it?” David drew a line from her navel to her slit but stopped short of testing her wetness. “Just you and the music and something unknown but not too unknown.” He stood and turned away without waiting for her to answer. Jovanna watched him select a riding crop from an array of equipment provided by the club and her entire body tightened with awareness. The music could have been white noise for all it registered. David, the memory of his fantasy, the sting of clamps at her breasts, and the knowledge of what he’d do with that crop pushed her pulse into overdrive. And she was okay with sharing the experience with him instead of hiding behind her anonymity rule. More than okay with it. Crop in hand, he returned to her. 77
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She blew out a steadying breath and wrapped her fingers around the chains overhead. “You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?” “I figure you’re eventually going to make me beg for something I want from you. While you might not want to wear a collar, I wouldn’t mind wearing a ring.” He tapped the tongue of the crop against her hip. “Ready?” “Yeah, I’m ready.” Maybe for the ring too.
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About the Author Emily Ryan-Davis lives in Maryland with her loving husband and hateful guinea pig. On any given day, you can find her shopping (online or in stores), chatting/writing (the pair go hand in hand, can’t have one without the other), knitting (or buying yarn) or mocking her husband’s comic collection (while parenthetically wondering why comics haven’t upgraded to the ebook age; imagine all the extra space she’d have). Occasionally she picks up her mandolin, but mostly she just ignores it. You won’t find her paying attention to current events or the latest celebrity gossip because writing stories is her way of pretending it doesn’t matter that she doesn’t know how to use the television remote. Emily’s favorite authors are Megan Hart, Terry Pratchett, JR Ward and Orson Scott Card. She loves sexy, magical, funny and intense stories, but especially enjoys immersing herself in the breathless intensity of a “with feeling” love scene. She can’t pick a genre (decision-making issues!) so writes in whatever setting calls to her at any given time: contemporary paranormal, historical western, medieval Europe, Gothic France—if she can imagine a strong emotional attraction existing in a particular place or time, chances are she’ll write the story. Emily welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Emily Ryan-Davis All He Wants All the Secrets in Pearl All the Trees in Pearl All the Women in Pearl Hot for Pepper Interlude in Pearl
Print books by Emily Ryan-Davis All in Pearls anthology
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