Bonds of Courage (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

“I really can’t talk now, Liv.” Vanessa paced inside the parking garage, heels tapping out her slow pass in front of the elevator doors.

“This is quick,” her sister insisted, going on before Vanessa could cut her off. “I need some contacts for the fund-raiser. Do you know anyone who can build easy carnival games? Nothing fancy, but you know I suck with a hammer. The kids would love to help—”

“What about Holden?” Vanessa cut her off, getting to the solution.

“He’s gone next week and then his August time is spotty with his getting ready for the season.”

She sucked in a breath, straightening. Holden was gone next week? Had she known that? Why did that upset her?

“Any parents?”

“Right,” Liv scoffed. “If they had time they’d be watching their kids.”

Properly chastised, Vanessa slumped against the brick wall. The air was muggy with the scent of gasoline and oil that always permeated the space. Her suit jacket hung open and wrinkles marred her capris after the flight home. “I might know someone. I’ll get back to you.”

“You’re the best, sis. I owe you so much for all of this. The kids are already frantic for the event. They can’t wait to meet the players and show off to their parents and friends. They’re proud of the center. I guess I never really knew that until now.”

Yeah, it was a good thing Holden had started. Amazing, actually. It shamed her a little that she hadn’t thought of it herself or done something more to support her sister’s work.

“Is there anything else you need?” she asked, her voice heavy with her guilt.

“Well...”

“Spit it out, Liv.”

“Heidi’s been great with creating promo flyers and setting up the media stuff to get the news out. But I could really use someone to redo the center’s pathetic website.”

Of course she could. She dropped her head forward, the weight of it suddenly too heavy to hold up. Heidi was the head of the Glaciers’s PR team, but her job ended at the team. How appropriate that the people who could help Liv were waiting inside for her right now.

“Your timing is impeccable,” she told her sister.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I’ll get back to you.” She checked the time and pushed the elevator button. “I’m late for a meeting.”

“Love you, sis.”

“Love you too, sis.”

She ended the call as the doors swooshed open. The air seemed to clog in her chest during the short ride to the first floor. Or maybe her lungs were shrinking, her chest squeezing the space smaller and smaller until there was no room left for air.

“Hey, V,” Seth said when she stepped into the new conference room. A recent remodel had converted a portion of the old storage room that had also served as Jake’s workroom into a slick meeting room. Jake’s side business building custom BDSM equipment had outgrown the limited space and he’d opted to rent his own place in a building a block down.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, slipping into a free chair between Deklan and Noah. “And thanks for meeting on short notice.”

“Deklan filled us in while we waited,” Jake said.

“I’ve already nailed the leak,” Rock added before she could respond.

“Wow.” She sat back, a little stunned but not really surprised. “And?”

“It was Wes,” Deklan said. The terse words matched the defensive cross of his arms over his chest. “He works security.”

“And?” she prompted again.

“He’s a good man.” Deklan rubbed a hand over his mouth, he gaze skating to Jake and Seth before he continued. “I’ve talked to him, and he’s apologized. He needed money and was lured by the potential payoff.”

Shit
. The ramifications shuffled through her mind at lightning speed. “Please tell me there aren’t pictures involved.” Her chest cavity was officially the size of a pea. Not that anyone at that table knew that.

“No.” Rock’s clipped answer allowed her to inhale again. “He was monitoring the cameras the day Holden came in for his interview. The video files are all encrypted and stored behind layers of passwords. But I’ve checked all of the feeds, outgoing mail and electronic stamps. There’s no trace of an image being stolen.”

She turned on Deklan, her relief morphing to anger. “I thought your men could be trusted.”

“They can,” he fired back. A muscle bulged along the tight clench of his jaw as he stared her down. He was one man she’d never want to meet in a dark alley, but she could hold her own here.

“Evidently not. My name was leaked, along with Holden’s.”

“He’s been reprimanded.”

“Not fired?”

“Hey,” Seth cut in over their rising voices. “Yelling at each other won’t help us. We all know the risks we take by owning this club.” His stare drilled into Vanessa, which made her bristle more. “I trust that Deklan is handling it. Does anyone else have an issue with Wes still being employed here?”

Marcus shifted in his chair. “I do a bit,” he said, glancing around the table. “It could’ve been Quinn’s name he leaked. She doesn’t need that kind of exposure. Not with the baby almost due.”

She’d completely forgotten Quinn was due any day. She’d been out of town for the baby shower and now she was spacing on the birth. Damn it. She didn’t forget important details like that.

“Legally,” Noah interjected, “the employee confidentiality agreement states this as grounds for being fired.”

“I fucking know that, all right?” Deklan sat forward and glared around Vanessa to their lawyer. “I’m not stupid. I believe the problem is solved and the man regrets what he did. It won’t happen again.”

“I never said you were stupid, Dek,” Noah replied, his voice nothing but calm. “I was just stating the facts.”

“Right.” The big ex-military man sank back, his arms folding over his chest. “Our members count on the confidentiality we provide. Wes fucked up and he knows it.”

“Why’d he do it?” Jake asked, bringing a bit of calm back to the room.

“His mom has cancer. Bills are adding up and he’s shouldering it all.”

He had to throw in the dying-mom card. Perfect. They’d all feel like shit if they kicked the guy to the curb now.

“I’ve taken him off the security room duty,” Deklan said, his voice weary. It was clear he’d taken this personally. “But I don’t want to cut him off. I’ve known him for twelve years. He’s reliable and a great guy at heart. Life got the better of him for a second, that’s all.”

“I agree with Deklan,” Rock said with a nod. “The man’s solid. He had a weak moment, but I don’t see him repeating it.”

She longed to rub at the throbbing ache that pounded in her forehead, but she didn’t. Trusting her fellow partners was part of the deal when she bought into The Den. It wasn’t easy though, especially on this. “Fine,” she said tightly. “You’d better be right about him.”

Deklan’s sharp nod was the only answer she received.

“I’ve scoured the rag and sports sites, and nothing’s been posted about either of you,” Rock added. “Wherever you got your information, it seems to have stalled there. It’s just rumor right now with no proof, and no one is moving on it.”

Seth moved the meeting on to a few other topics regarding schedules and shifts. Over the past six months at Marcus’s direction, the partners had slowly eased back, letting their trusted employees step into bigger roles. The transition had been gradual, but they were getting there.

As the meeting wound down and they were pretty much shooting the shit, she called in the favors she didn’t want to use. But it was for Liv.
My kryptonite strikes again
. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah?” he said, looking to her.

“Any chance you have some time to work with my sister to build some carnival games for kids?”

His brows shot up, and the room went instantly quiet. Great.

Jake scratched his nose, his mouth quirking. “Ah, I’m not sure my stuff is right for kids.”

Marcus covered a laugh then looked away with a mumbled “Sorry” said under his hand.

She sighed, the regret twisting in her stomach. “Never mind.”

“No, wait,” Jake said, his voice apologetic despite the grin on his face. “What do you need?”

“You have a sister?” That was from Seth.

She glanced at him. Her wince was mostly contained when she saw the hurt on his face. She brushed her hair over her shoulders and nodded. “Yeah. She’s two years younger than me.” She scanned the table. Dek and Rock were the only two who didn’t appear to be surprised by the information. “Anyway,” she went on, ignoring the decrease in her lung capacity once again.

Somehow she managed to put on her Vanessa shield and get through the details of the fundraiser and what they were planning. Internally, she fought against the panic as she brought her worlds crashing together. Yeah, she was the one doing it, but it didn’t matter how they intersected—they simply weren’t supposed to.

A line of sweat wiggled its way down her side by the time she was done with the short explanation. She kept her breaths short, her face neutral and her emotions locked down.

Jake sat back, nodding in a way that had his shoulder rocking too. Concentration tightened the line of his mouth and drew his brows down. “That sounds cool. It’s a good idea.” He blew out a breath, gaze shifting to Seth and Dek before he continued. “It would’ve been nice to have a safe place like that when I was growing up.”

Dek’s soft snort was timed with Seth’s low grunt. Vanessa didn’t know the details of their history together outside the fact that the three men had been friends since childhood.

“I can do that,” Jake said, a smile accompanying his agreement.

“Great, thanks.” She made sure her smile didn’t show the turmoil trying to eat its way through her stomach lining.

“What else can we do?’

She turned to Noah, a chorus of similar questions from the other men stopping her before she could respond to him.

“We all want to help now,” Marcus said, his grin sincere.

Vanessa sat back, blown away by the offers and terrified at what accepting them would mean. “She doesn’t know about this part of my life,” she cautioned. The stern eye contact she made with every person at the table communicated more than her words.

“Got it,” Jake said.

“We’re friends,” Seth added. “That’s all your sister needs to know.”

She sucked in another shallow breath, and on the exhale, invited her partners into parts of her world they were never supposed to be involved in.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The low
click
,
click
,
click
reached Holden first. Muted through the wood door that separated them, but distinct anyway. The semi he’d been sporting the entire drive over became a full hard-on before the clicks were silenced by the entry rug. His breathing deepened and he fell into his display position as the door swung open.

Thigh-high glossy boots with a daunting five-inch pointed heel greeted his lowered gaze. The urge to scan upward to take in her whole attire was strong, but he held his position, letting the anticipation build.

Thirteen days he’d waited with no guarantee that his situation would change tonight. It didn’t matter though. He’d go another month without coming if it gave him the opportunity to submit to her.

“Downstairs.”

Fuck
,
yes
. The clipped tone minus any form of greeting told him what kind of night was ahead. It was exactly the kind he needed. “Yes, Mistress.” Instinctively he knew to use the honorary, not her name. The vibe for the evening was one of boundaries and lines strictly defined.

“Use what I left you in the bathroom, too.”

He faltered at that, but only for a second. “As you wish, Mistress.” A smile quirked as a flash of
The Princess Bride
crept in. He knew exactly how the fictional Westley must’ve felt.

Holden kept his eyes down and headed straight for the playroom. The welcoming scent of leather and trapped air that hinted of disinfectant relaxed and ramped him up. His clothing was quickly removed and left in a neat stack on the dresser by the door, his sandals at the base.

The cool tile floor beneath his feet was one more thing that dropped him into that quiet headspace. The brush of air on his hot skin, the distinctive fragrance mingled with the now-familiar surroundings—they were all a part of it. Others would call it his submissive headspace, yet that term didn’t quite fit for him.

His Vanessa space was how he thought of it. He was pretty damn certain that what he felt, the consuming relief and pleasure, the emotional release, was more about giving to her than submitting to just any Domme.

That sentiment slipped just a little when he found the enema box on the bathroom counter with a stack of old towels.
Fucking hell
. That could mean only one thing. Something was going up his ass tonight.
Damn
.

Another test? A challenge to see if he’d bail? Or was it honestly something she thought he’d enjoy? He squirmed, ass clenching at the thought. Was it in desire or revulsion?

Anal play wasn’t on his hard limit list, so he should either added it quickly or get the fuck moving with the task.

After closing the door, he read the directions, none of which sounded remotely enjoyable. He glanced at the hook conveniently placed on the wall next to the toilet then back at the box.
Shit
. Literally. He snorted, blew out a breath and opened the box.

When he finally settled into his display position facing the closed entry door, sweat chilling on his skin, he did his best to block out the last thirty minutes by starting to count down from one hundred. The methodic act sent everything scurrying from his mind. The numbers were whispered under his breath, using the sound to center him in the silence that surrounded him.

Number twenty-three had passed his lips when she entered the room. His focus switched to her instantly, the numbers forgotten. Her heels defined her path to the cabinets. The heavier beat of a Linkin Park song flowed into the space a few seconds later, another bit of foreshadowing. Intentional? He didn’t know, but he understood.

She stopped in front of him next, the heel clicks not quite drowned out by the music. The light glared off the glossy shine of her boots. His hard cock stood proudly in his line of sight, yet his need wasn’t centered on coming. Somewhere over the past two weeks he’d learned to push that back, no matter how urgent it seemed.

She mattered more.

The boots moved, circling around him to stop once again. He held still, centered in his wish to give his Mistress whatever she wanted.

“Have you been good, Holden?”

His lips quirked, not in amusement but pleasure. “Yes, Mistress. For you.”

Her throaty purr was almost better than a touch. It rolled over his skin, sending shivers racing within him. “Safeword?”

Another hint. “Chihuahua.” She reinforced his safeword only before a Scene intent on pushing him. He’d been pushing himself on the ice all week. Giving that over to her was a relief.

She stepped forward to trail her fingers up his thigh, over his hip, chest, throat until they lifted his chin. The touch alone had him swallowing a tortured sound, but the glimpse he caught of her short red leather skirt and black lace bra-like top that pushed her breasts high had him rumbling his approval. The heated blend of ice and danger in her eyes ripped the burning groan from his chest.

A smile graced her red lips for a moment, long enough for him to savor the softness it brought to her features before the hardened Domme returned. “Tonight is about endurance and giving,” she murmured, her gaze drifting to his mouth as she spoke. “I’m going to push you. Test you. Own you.”

“Please, Mistress,” he implored. “Do it all.”

Her eyes shot to his, narrowed. “Careful what you ask for,” she warned. “I don’t feel like being easy tonight. Or even nice.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“Good.” She pressed a nail into the underside of his chin, the skin giving until the edge bit at the tender area. His chin lifted under the pressure so his throat was stretched and exposed.

He closed his eyes and released a long, slow breath. He needed this. Her. Whatever she was going to give him. It kept him balanced.
Happy
was another word that fit. “Thank you, Mistress.” He dared to defy her by lowering his chin until he held her gaze once again. He let the need and desire and whatever else was raging through him to show in his eyes. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

In every way, he wanted to add, but couldn’t. Not yet. Not now. But what he couldn’t say with words, he would in action. This Scene was for her more than him, and he’d make certain she heard that, that he understood her needs too, even if he didn’t say another word all night.

* * *

Damn him
. Vanessa kept her face flat, but there was nothing she could do about the emotions that swarmed up. She didn’t want them, any of them. Yet they were all there, hammering in her chest, pressing in her throat, burning in her core.

She let her fingers drift back down his throat, past his chest and tight abs to clasp his erection. His hips tilted forward, eyelids dropping. She stroked the velvety smoothness beneath her palm, spread the wetness around the tip, then let go.

He dropped his chin to his chest with a hard exhale.

Without contemplation, she stole a kiss from his lips. A hard, claiming kiss that took. His breath was hers, the heat of his mouth, the wetness and taste of sweetness were all hers. He opened, gave without hesitation until she stepped back, panting.

“On the table, on your back,” she ordered, pointing to the padded bench that resembled both an exam and a massage table. She didn’t wait to see if he followed her direction. By now, she expected him to do so, and he didn’t disappoint.

This she could control. Him, now, this Scene was all hers to orchestrate. For now, she could forget the outside world and all the stress it brought.

She took her time selecting the toys, savoring the items and the wait. There was no need to rush, nowhere to be or clock ticking on the wall. They had all night to play if she wanted to do so.

The dildo was solid black metal. Hefty in her hand, even though it wasn’t super thick. The chain of ten anal beads that gradually increased in size was pliable under her fingers. She selected the anal probe last. She doubted Holden had ever had anything inserted into his anus. Teasing his prostate would likely send him into the stratosphere.

After grabbing a few more items, including a neoprene cock ring and a bottle of lube, she made her way back to Holden. He tracked her, his eyes focused on the objects overflowing from her hands. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in a pointed indication of his apprehension, or maybe it was desire.

“Feet in the stirrups.”

She turned her back to set the items on the small rolling table she’d stationed next to the bench. His feet were in place, legs spread wide when she was done. She strapped his feet in then patted his knee. “Scoot down. I want your butt on the edge of the table.”

Another swallow before a “Yes, Mistress.” The vinyl squeaked under his back as he squirmed down. The position showed off the size of his thighs, the muscles in his calves and that perfect ass that she was so going to own.

“We’re playing with toys tonight.” As if that wasn’t already obvious. “This orgasm you’ve been holding on to for thirteen days.” She ran a nail up his cock that had gone a little soft until she teased the sensitive spot under the head. Satisfied when it was once again thick and straining, she looked up. “It’s still mine.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Clear and firm without a pause or swallow either. God, that fed her. It pushed the blood hot and fast through her system until the heat seemed to radiate from her. Her nipples tightened into hard nubs that shot a connecting line of desire to her core.

She strapped down his wrists then added a band across his upper chest and another over his abdomen, effectively locking him down. “Has anyone ever played with your anus?”

His brow wrinkled, lips compressing into a thin line that went with his head shake. “No, Mistress.”

“Have you played with your anus?”

“No, Mistress.” This one more emphatic than the first.

“Oh.” She smiled, a wicked, calculating one that matched the temptress itching to play. “This is going to be so much fun.”

And exactly what she needed to get her mind back in focus. Holden might’ve been the catalyst that had her life sliding out of kilter, but she could still own him. It was a power trip he willingly gave her. One she appreciated more than words could say.

So she’d show him. Take and give and make him beg until there was nothing left but the two of them.

No worries or stress. No list of things to get done. No one waiting on her or asking for something. No one but Holden, giving her whatever she wanted. Giving her everything. In this room, this small space hidden from everyone, he was the center of her world.

* * *

Holden had never felt more exposed. Legs spread up and wide, air hitting areas that should never have that experience. Yet even bound tight and unable to move, he had no fear. He was vulnerable, maybe, but safe.

His trust in her gave him the freedom to enjoy.

The heavy beat of the music was a welcomed rhythm in his ears. He closed his eyes, feeling the bands holding him down, inhaling the scent of the room, and now, his Mistress. All of it dropped him further, loosened his muscles and enabled him to let go.

He clenched at the first touch of cold lube against his hole. Expected but not, he tried to hold still and relax as she’d instructed him to do. It was the dildo. A black one that hadn’t looked too intimidating, but then, he’d never had anything shoved the wrong way up an exit either.

Until the enema, at least.

His soft chuckle morphed to a groan as she massaged his anus with the head of the dildo. Where logic said it shouldn’t feel good, it actually did in an odd way.

“Don’t resist,” she said when reflexes had his cheeks squeezing together once again. Of course, it didn’t do much good with his legs forced open like they were. “You look so perfect like this.” The appreciative tone of her voice worked to soothe him. Her fingers danced down the inside of his thigh before they rolled around his balls. “Open to me. Mine to play with. Mine to control.”

“Yes,” he choked out, eyes squeezing closed as the rounded head of the dildo eased into him. “Holy...fuck.” It was wrong and right and everything in between.

A burn accompanied a host of sensations that rippled straight from the sensitive ring of muscles to his dick. His body was programmed to reject the object being slowly pushed into him, yet his mind was stuck on the pain-mixed pleasure that rifled through him. He wanted it out and needed more.

“Bear down,” she instructed, her hand starting a slow stroke on his flagging erection. “Stop resisting and accept.”

He got the double meaning. This was for her. What his Mistress wanted. His long exhale took the last of his tension with it. He did as she’d said and in the next instant the hard object slid into him with a sudden ease.

Fucking
... He tossed his head, mouth gaping. The burn faded away, leaving the most indescribable feeling to take over. He had nothing to compare it to. Nothing for his senses to go from.

Her slow strokes in and out matched the ones on his dick, which was seriously hard again. The double waves of pleasure were shorting out his thoughts until there was nothing but the sizzling flush that radiated from his groin.

Damn, he was hot everywhere. Even his toes were scorching, sweat forming between the digits. How?

“You’re doing great, Holden.”

He forced his eyes open and glanced down. She was intent on her work, eyes down. A vision of what she saw had a rough grunt tearing from his chest. It shouldn’t be hot, but it was fucking erotic as hell.

She owned him. No question about it.

That thought alone almost had him coming. He couldn’t though. Not till she said. His weeks of denial had taught him restraint. Control. Instead of racing for the end, he settled in and savored the build. He sank fully into the moment, letting the sensations blend together. He didn’t think about
what
she was doing to him. Instead, he simply experienced it.

His arms jerked in their bonds, fingers fanning at the sharp, intense jolt of pleasure that shot straight through his balls to his dick. “Holy fuck.” His cry bellowed over the music and rang in his mind.

She chuckled, the sound a seductive line that he clung to. “And that is the hidden magic of the prostate.”