Bought (Unchained Vice Book 3) (5 page)

There was a lot he could do with rope and a bag of tricks, but sometimes the simple things held more power, felt more honest.

He placed the tongue of the crop below her right nipple and pushed against her breast with just a hint of pressure.

The nipple responded beautifully, beaded into a hard, little point. So responsive with so little coaxing.

A perfectly behaved breast.

He’d meant what he’d said, she was beautiful. From her tousled red hair to the curve of her waist and the inviting juncture between her thighs, there wasn’t a thing he would change.

He smoothed the leather tip over her skin, running the stiff black tongue across the pale, delicate flesh.

Then a tap.

Lightly against the outside of her breast.

She flinched then laughed at the purely involuntary action.

He smiled “Rough?”

“Yes.” The tip of her tongue touched her top lip as the playfulness faded and her features softened. “Rough.” Like her voice, her eyelids grew heavy with anticipation.

The same sultry heaviness sank into his balls.

He tapped her again.

Harder.

A loud crack against skin.

Her breast quivered as she moaned. Arching her back, she pushed her breasts higher.

He took the invite and hit harder. A bite that left an angry patch of red on the porcelain globe.

Her breath caught, the world held still in the tightness in her features, and then she let go, her body softening on a soft sensual hum as she absorbed the pain and made it pleasure.

Beautiful. Raw. Honest.

He’d promised her real.

Wanted it.

Wanted her to struggle for him. Wanted to watch the conflict on her face, torn between pleasure and pain.

The sadist in him wanted her to suffer.

He drew the crop down her body, watching it twitch and come alive under the leather. He stopped between her spread thighs, the tongue pressed up against her sex. He tapped firm stinging kisses of the crop against her sensitive folds, rhythmic jolts of sensation that would vibrate into her core and run along all those nerves built just for pleasure.

Pleasure that ran up his own hand and pulsed inside him.

He increased the force as he played with the tempo, slapping against her clit until she was squirming, on the edge and panting.

She tilted her hips for more, her pussy glistening.

The crop sliced the air, a vicious strike to her thigh as he caned her with the slender shaft.

Scarlet squealed. Eyes flying open, she looked down at her thigh and the red welt forming.

Her fingers twitched as if she couldn’t decide whether to stay or … she moved, broke position. He waited for her to say this was a mistake—maybe he wanted it. Instead, she ran her fingers over the bump of the raised stripe on her leg, reverently caressing it.

The muscles in his back rippled, as if her fingertips were all over his body.

When she looked up at him, lips slightly open, he couldn’t hold back the warm rush that flowed through him.

He extended the crop to rest back against the tip of her slit. Now that she understood the rhythm of the game, the mix of pain and pleasure, he’d let her guess what was coming.

Her chest rose and fell on short, shallow breaths as she balanced on the erotic edge, equally wary and wanting.

He loved holding a submissive there, such an exquisite moment of control, a euphoric sense of flow. A groan was held in silence in his chest.

He pushed the flat leather harder, grinding it against the tender flesh.

She sighed, and even though she knew another strike was coming, she couldn’t seem to help but close her eyes.

He let her take the moment of pleasure as he watched her wiggle against the crop, chasing the friction, shameless in her attempt to orgasm.

But she hadn’t earned it yet.

He pulled away, and with a flick of the wrist, he struck her flat on the nipple. She jumped before curling in on herself. Her low moan torn between agony and ecstasy spoke straight to his cock.

Reaching down, he squeezed his aching shaft and waited for her to settle back into position.

He’d been right. She marked beautifully.

***

By the time Jerricho had finished reddening her second breast, Scarlet was burning. Her skin itched and stung and that was nothing compared to the mad buzz inside her.

Heady and drunk.

All that existed was the flow of accept and respond. A choreographed dance. Her rough breathing the background music.

She wanted him to push her more.

Take her higher.

She wanted him to stop and fuck her.

And she wanted to come. God, she
needed
to come.

She might’ve whimpered that, but she didn’t have an interest in words.

Sensation.

She wanted to be covered in sensation. Wrapped in it.

He changed the impact of the crop. She’d become so attuned to it; there were moments when it took all her focus, drowning out all sense of him.

Touch.

Nothing but touch as he flicked the leather tongue to skim over her burning flesh. So deceptive these glancing strokes, as they abrasively scraped across her skin. Scratching already tender nerves, leaving them raw and stinging. So sharp and so sweet.

“Onto your stomach.”

She came back to the world.
Has he asked more than once?

She shifted herself on heavy limbs, hissing the instant her chest touched the bed.

Pain. A fire of needles as she pushed her abused flesh into the bed.

She whimpered as he grabbed her hips and dragged her tortured nipples across the luxury cotton thread to raise her ass into the air. Her face pinched in ecstatic agony as the position placed more weight on her chest. She squirmed, seeking relief, but it only made her wince further.

He hit the crop mercilessly hard across her bottom. Once.

Twice.

Four times.

She cried out, ass jerking higher into the air as if begging for more.

Pleasure and pain, they bled into the same hunger. Her thighs sticky with want.

And then he gave.

The stiff rod of the crop slid between her slick folds, cleaving her swollen sex as he rubbed the shaft back and forth over the nub of her clit.

The rhythm of her breathing fell apart.

Hips rocking, she rode the slippery crop, sliding on the hard rod as it pressed against her slit. All her concentration was on how good it felt between her thighs. Too wet for friction, she ground against it instead, pushing on the button that pulled at her core, bruising it until her nerves tingled … until nothing mattered but the swelling of the tide.

Oh God, yes, yes
… the crop dropped.

She humped at the air, the loss tearing an animal sound from deep in her throat.

A warm hand.

The blunt head of a cock.

He felt big and hard and dangerous against her tender flesh.

His cock sank into her, deep into her madness, and pushed the air from her lungs.

A forceful thrust.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Fucking her aching breasts into the bed, slamming into her tortured clit. Brutal and unrelenting and she gloried in it. She pushed back meeting him stroke for stoke, urging for more.

He filled her perfectly, stroking every singing nerve as he pushed and pumped.

His hips crashed into her and her last bit of cohesion snapped.

She came.

A sudden death. Gasping as her body clutched down on his cock, a tense hold keeping him tight and deep in her sheath, squeezing around the thick pulsing throb of him. Spilling incoherent sounds of pleasure as her pussy milked and her body trembled.

Steel fingers bit into her flesh, marking her as he strangled a roar.

Rough.

Hard.

Just like she wanted.

He slammed into her until there was nothing left but jangled nerves screaming up into the quiet that slowly spread around them, saturating the world as it swallowed their raw release.

Scarlet woke up and blinked, momentarily disorientated. A stranger sat in the chair opposite the bed, watching her. Her heart kicked, a frantic struggle against her chest so hard the erratic beating hurt.

Where were her guards?

Oh God, Killian…

Limbs locking, she froze, her brain stunned into fright.

“You slept like the dead.” The man leaned forward, his face becoming clearer as he moved out of the shadow from the backlight.

But it was his voice that pushed back the tide of panic. The icy flush of fear slowly seeped out of her system as she placed her surroundings and Jerricho.

“Scarlet?”

“Why are you still here?” Her throat hurt as if she’d screamed. Blushing, she remembered she had.

“I wanted to make sure you were all right. You fell asleep so quickly.”

She bristled. “Dent your ego?”

It might have been the initial scare, but it was probably that he was affecting her in a way that wasn’t wanted. The minute she’d heard his voice, she’d felt safe. And then there was the tingling in her body …

He laughed. “No, not at all.”

No, of course not, not when they both knew he’d fucked her into a stupor.

She wanted to snap back a retort, but the laugh opened him up, softened the arrogance in his features. It was sexy.

Sadly.

Men who had the right to arrogance tended to be her Achilles heel.

He was openly studying her. She took the license to do the same. Irritation faded as lust began to stir.

He was beautifully masculine—another failing. His square face was sculpted in hard planes. Everything in sharp definition. Broad forehead. Proud nose. Strong jaw.

For a man, he had perfectly painted brows that arched over his dark eyes, and a wide, full mouth she hadn’t felt on her lips.

“You didn’t kiss me.” She wasn’t sure why it mattered or why she’d said it out loud.

“That’s debatable.”

He was still smiling, and suddenly, she had an irrational yearning for his mouth.

She wanted him to light her up again.

For a moment, in the soft light and familiar whispers, she forgot that they were a passing transaction, not lovers, because when he touched her nothing else mattered.

Killian.

A wave of longing crashed down on her like a cold shower.

As if sensing the mood, Jerricho rose stiffly from the chair.

How long had she slept?

How long had he sat looking over her?

The thought touched her. A touch as unwelcome as the conflict of wanting him to stay.

She was too raw right now. Too vulnerable.

“It’s time for me to go.”

She nodded. He was right. Just like the kiss, it was better this way.

She moved to sit up and winced. Her body felt tight and tender. There’d be bruises, and God forgive her, she looked forward to it.

He noticed her discomfort. “I promised today would linger.” There was no remorse, only confirmation.

She nodded again. Something deep inside her said the bruises would fade but his mark would still linger. She’d wanted to fuck, and now she felt fucked up.

“I’m still tired,” she blurted awkwardly. She needed him to go.

He leaned down, and for a traitorous moment, despite it being the worst idea, she wanted him to kiss her.

She drew a silent breath.

He moved past her as he opened the bedside drawer.

She exhaled as he reached in and took the money.

“Goodbye, Scarlet.”

“Goodbye.”

Still covered in his scent, she watched him go. The ghost of him remained, as if he had changed the very air around them.

She fell back onto the bed, the sheets cold under her.

The weight of the noticeable silence sat on her chest as she listened for the click of the door. Except the weight wasn’t just the silence.

A low keen escaping as her body, she rolled over and curled into a ball. Hugging her knees to her chest, she shook as she started to cry.

It had taken Scarlet two days to call him and arrange to meet again.

The same sultry voice over the phone.

The same pull of connection.

The same hesitation. Hesitation this time, that came from knowing.

The session with Scarlet had been real.

And Jerricho knew she’d felt it.

That’s why she’d surprised him when she’d called. When he’d left her in the hotel room two days before, she’d seemed shaken.

Later, in the privacy of his own home, he’d sunk down onto his bed and fallen asleep thinking about her. In reality, the connection he’d felt had only proved stronger.

So, he was well aware that walking into the hotel to meet her again was a lapse of reason.

He could tell himself he was there because he was down a client. He could tell himself it was because Scarlet had sounded more lost than before and he’d felt somewhat responsible.

Or he could tell himself it was because he needed money.

The truth was none of those reasons mattered. The minute he’d heard her voice, he knew he would say yes.

He enjoyed Jessica professionally, why not Scarlet?

He walked through the front doors of the hotel and froze as he saw her.

She was supposed to be in the room. He was supposed to walk up to the desk, pick up the key to suite 1069, and go upstairs to meet her.

Except Scarlet sat at the lobby bar, and for a moment, the vision of her left him breathless.

Maybe it was the red hair. Or the unaffected way she wore her beauty.

Maybe it was something darker.

He remembered the pale, fragile skin by her collarbone betraying the rapid beat of her heart. The red flush as it rose under her skin. The musky smell of her arousal.

The memory stirred his darker yearnings.

The beat of his pulse was no longer slow and easy as he imagined her under him.

He jerked back the instinctive response. Steeled himself to hold it in control.

He’d keep it professional; that was his condition to saying yes.

Anything else would be reckless.

***

Scarlet sat at the bar in the lobby, listening to her agent on the phone when she noticed Jerricho in the hotel entrance. It was as if they sensed each other simultaneously.

She watched him stop dead, a sweet little buzz of a thrill as he noticed her.

“Scarlet, are you even listening to me?”

“What?” She momentarily closed her eyes, as if it was that simple to clear her thinking. “Sorry, Hailey.”

When she opened them, he was still watching her. Warmth bloomed from her core as if the heat in his eyes had physically reached out to touch her.

This was why she’d waited in the lobby; the room was already a point of no return.

It was wrong to feel this pull. Her heart was confused, even if the rest of her body wasn’t.

She looked away.

“I need to give the producers an answer. You’ve been thinking about this for a week,” Hailey repeated patiently.

Scarlet ran her tongue over the inside of her right cheek. From the outside, you couldn’t tell it had ever been split open, but there was a raised seam she could feel on the inside. Real, even if the tightness she sometimes felt was imaginary. The doctors said the muscles of the cheek were fine, the skin supple.

“Scarlet?”

“I’m just … not ready to sing.” She wanted to, but something held her back. Fear? Yes. But more than that, it was as if she needed some kind of permission. “I’m sorry, I know you want to hear something different.”

She
wanted her answer to be different.

“No. We’re good. I respect what you’re saying, but this isn’t singing. You’ll be judging
other
people’s singing. Chalk and cheese. Scarlet, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that you can take another year off and still make a comeback, but as your agent, I’m telling you I think it would be easier if you didn’t just disappear. There’s always the next big thing to compete with. Staying in the public eye is important.”

Scarlet raised her gaze to search for Jerricho.

He started moving toward her. She watched his footsteps eat up the room. He was tall, more than six feet. Had she realized that last time? Or had she been too lost in the discovery of his face? She was so used to looking at the picture on her wall of him lying down.

Hailey sighed. “You’re one of my favorite clients … I don’t want to see you run out of choices.”

Her eyes were locked on him, spellbound by the way he moved, all sexuality and danger.

“Just put me out of my misery. I need a yes or a no … or a yes.”

Each step closer made her heart beat faster.

“I’ve got to go, Hailey.” She needed to answer before she couldn’t think. “My answer for the show is no.”

That’s what she should say to Jerricho.

No.

I’m sorry I called you. I’ll pay you for your inconvenience, but this was a bad idea.

He made her want. Want all the things she couldn’t have.

Killian.

Touch.

Intimacy.

Jerricho was supposed to be a substitute, a scratch for an itch.

She’d had a BDSM lover once, a torrid weekend affair because he was from out of town. He remained the only memory Killian’s touch hadn’t burned off her body.

She was desperate to feel, and she’d wanted that same intensity.

But she’d forgotten things.

Things like the sweet taste of pleasure mixed with pain.

She moved in her seat, barely there aches reminding her of two days before. The memory felt so good. Jerricho had felt so fucking good.

He felt like exactly what she’d needed.

And still, she was waiting in the lobby, because she’d forgotten the most important thing. She’d forgotten that something in that power exchange created an immediate intimacy.

They needed some ground rules.

“First masturbation, now the lobby. You like an audience more than I thought.” Jerricho’s lips twitched as he stopped in front of her.

“I want to talk.”

“Talk?” His eyebrow rose. “What are we talking about, Scarlet?”

So cool and collected.

“You.”

She wanted to rattle him like he rattled her.

He did nothing but tilt his head and wait.

“What’s your kink? Why do this?” He’d been all too real, all too human. Maybe if she could understand his story, she could distance herself from him. “Why be a
Dom for hire
? Are you one of the guys who goes around building a harem or something?”

She expected him to be glib, maybe even insulted. She’d become so accustomed to fighting with Killian it was becoming her default mode of engagement.

“I have no shame about what I do, Scarlet. Are you projecting?” Same cool and collected voice.

Her cheeks stung. She deserved that. “No.”

“Good. Then we’re agreed that there are worse things than fucking for money.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “Like not fighting for what is right. Like lying to yourself.” He paused. “Like not doing the thing you love.”

Like not singing.

She looked into his eyes, thinking about the phone call, wondering if he’d overheard anything. But she knew he hadn’t been close enough, and there was an honesty in his eyes that said those words meant something to him. He’d given her a truth.

This was exactly the opposite of what she’d intended.

And maybe exactly what she wanted.

She should tell him no.

“This is exactly what I don’t want.”

“Talking?” Now he seemed amused.

“No. I don’t want things to get personal. I’m not looking for a friend. I just want …” She looked around. She wanted so many damn things. “I just want to fuck and feel. I want to know if you can stick to that?”

He nodded. “No getting to know each other.”

“Yes. That’s it. I don’t want to make conversation.”

“We don’t have to talk, Scarlet.”

“Thank you.” She relaxed back into the chair.

Jerricho gestured for her drink and she nodded. She watched him raise the glass to his lips and take a sip of the water. There was a pull at her core at the thought of his lips touching the same place hers had been. The tiny hairs on her skin prickled. Her mouth went dry just as his was wet.

She was a fool. You didn’t have to talk to be intimate.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

She should tell him no, but she wanted to taste his lips.

Jerricho nodded at the people exiting the elevator then held the door for her.

“When you get inside, take your panties off and stand with your feet apart.” His words brushed passed her ear as she stepped into the empty cage, making her shiver.

He followed her in and faced her, that amused smile still curling his lips.

She opened her mouth to remind him people could join them, but he put a finger to her lips.

“Shh. You were very specific at the bar. You just want to fuck. No talking. You have one word, Scarlet, and that word is
red.
”

The elevator doors closed behind him. Alone with him, the small space felt even more confining.

“Panties. Now.”

Her hands, with a will of their own, began to scrunch the fabric of her short pencil skirt. She was nervous the lift would stop on any given floor, stop before she was finished, but she still obeyed. Because more than being nervous, she was wet.

He looked down at the slow reveal of her thighs, his lips curling into a dark smile.

Her back arched, without thinking she leaned toward him.

The cage felt smaller, the confined space more intimate.

Her lips parted on the short, shallow puffs. She could’ve sworn, with each breath, his pupils dilated.

Her panties fell to the floor.

His smile widened, but it was all wolf.

Then the bastard turned and gave her his back.

“When we get upstairs,” his voice gave away no sign of the moment they’d just shared, “if there is no one in the corridor, you will continue to remove the rest of your clothes as we walk to the room. You will follow behind me. I will walk as fast … or as slow as I want.”

She tried to bite back the soft moan, but it was too late. Even though she couldn’t see his face, she was sure Jerricho Black had just smiled.

“Inside, you will go and kneel by the bed until I tell you to get on it. I’m going to restrain you there and we are going to see how many orgasms you can have in the next two and a half hours. I am going to stay focused on the fucking, just like you want. I will use my tongue, my fingers, my cock, and let’s not forget, my toys. You will love it. And then you will hate it. The constant stimulation will become overstimulation. Your muscles are going to cramp, your nerves are going to scream, and at some point, so are you. I would enjoy hearing you beg, but since you stipulated no talking, I’m going to help you … with a gag.”

The elevator stopped, but her heart was still racing. The doors opened.

“Now would be the time to use your word, Scarlet.” But he was already walking.

And she was already undoing her shirt buttons.