Chains and Canes (31 page)

Need, need,
need
.

Fuck, he hated that word. He hadn’t
needed
anyone since he was a teenager. Wanted, sure. Taken plenty. Couldn’t live without?

Never.

He tossed the hairbrush and shoved Naya’s face into Daniel’s lap. “You’ve got come all over your stomach already.”

“
Si,
Sir.”

“You need more on your ass.”

He slipped into the space where she knelt. This wouldn’t be possible in any old car or taxi, but this was a
town car
—what fancy people drove when it wasn’t time to bring out the limo. He rubbed her ass, across the hot red welts left by his assault. That fucked-up place inside him, the part that had probably broken on his walk to Baton Rouge, woke up and bared its teeth.

He slid his cock into the tight clamp of her pussy. A homecoming. He couldn’t help the growl that poured out of him. “There. You love this, Naya girl. Every inch of you just begging for more. For
me
.”

The heat from her cunt matched the heat radiating from her bruised skin. Pulse after pulse shot ecstasy through Remy’s body. He forced her face into the cradle of Daniel’s hand. She filled the car with soft cries that couldn’t be stifled. A stream of happy Spanish said maybe she could come again if he gave her long enough.

He ought to hold off. But Daniel had already come, and so had Naya—the first time he’d sent them away from the party. So fuck it. Remy wanted—not needed,
wanted
—to come. He took what Naya offered in her submission. Took what he was owed. Fucking Christ, took what he deserved when no one else believed he did.

At least he had sense enough to pull out. He wrapped his hand around his cock—a poor substitute for the clinging wetness he’d just claimed. Three quick jerks released pleasure that bordered on pain. He streaked her red skin with white. He reveled in the ecstasy he couldn’t deny, as it dragged up from his tight chest and through his limbs.

It wasn’t release. It wasn’t
peace
.

Naya sagged, leaning on Daniel, who was whispering soft words of praise. Remy zipped and buttoned up his pants, then banged on the window between them and the driver.

The car made its way to the side of the road, through traffic.

Daniel’s mouth pursed into his trademark flat line of disapproval. “What are you doing?”

“I need some air.”

The moment dragged out. Heavy air, heavy thoughts, during which Daniel never looked away. “Are you coming back?”

Ever?

Remy heard the silent word at the end of that question.

He was an animal in pain when he snarled. “I just need some fucking air.”

Chapter Thirty

Daniel lunged.

He wrenched Remy away from the door, but the man’s fingers still clutched the handle. Daniel pounded his fist against the sharp bones of Remy’s wrists and knuckles. Remy jabbed backward with his elbow, catching Daniel across the mouth. But nothing was stopping Daniel.

He used his forearm to catch Remy around the throat.

“So, you want air,” he said harshly. “Good luck with that. You’re not leaving this car, and if the next words out of your mouth aren’t goddamn
priceless
, you’ll have trouble breathing in here too.”

Remy clawed and kicked his battered sneakers against the door. “What the
hell
?”

“Wrong answer.” Daniel’s heart was hot and beating with the force of cannon fire. “That isn’t what Naya needs to hear.”

Kicking again, Remy almost slithered free of Daniel’s tense grip. Almost. “You gone fucking insane, boy?”

“I’m not anything close to your boy right now.”

“I’m done,” Remy said on a rough gasp. “You hear me, you son of a bitch?”

“No.”

“Done with both of you.”

“
No
.”

Daniel tightened his arm until Remy’s face was awash with pink and he sucked sharp puffs of air through his nose. He twisted, thrashed, growled. He butted his head back, barely missing Daniel’s nose. When that didn’t work, he grabbed Daniel’s forearm in both hands and bit the meat of that tense muscle.

Grunting, cussing, Daniel jerked Remy’s wrist back and between his shoulder blades. Using his body weight, Daniel shoved the man against one of the car’s windows. Remy’s cheek pressed flat. Each exhalation flared hot sprays of condensation on the glass.

“Stop fighting me or this gets ugly.”

“Let me out.”

After a quick shake, Daniel yanked harder. Any more force would mean dislocating his shoulder—at best. “Remy Lomand, I will break your fucking arm.”

“Bullshit. You’re a goddamn coward.”

“Me? When have you ever been given so much with so little asked in return?” Another hard shake. Daniel pressed his chest flush to Remy’s back, trapping him completely. “We did
everything
you demanded tonight, and none of it was enough. We did it in good fun. Hell, we did it because you were in a black hole of a mood and all we wanted was a real smile. Have you ever had people love you so much that they just want to see you smile?”

Remy bit his teeth together, then thumped his forehead square on the glass, again and again. He began to shake all over. “You’re sick. What kind of man are you that you want to be used? I’ve never known anyone who liked kneeling as much as you. Daniel Baker. Big man. Only happy when you’re a sniveling sub and cocksucker.”

“Insults,” Daniel rasped. “I should’ve known you’d stoop that low when cornered. And yeah, I
was
happy. You’ve shot that all to hell.”

“You want to crawl when you could stand up and take on every motherfucker in the world. So go ahead, give away that power. You take everything for granted, rich boy.”

“Tonight, Sir, I’m only standing up to you
.
”

“Stop.” Naya had turned her head so that her tear-streaked face pressed against the leather upholstery. Words spilled out of her grief-twisted mouth, over and over as she cried, “
¡Alto! ¡Por favor, los dos!
Daniel, please!”

The pain in her voice only added to Daniel’s anger. Remy had brought this on them, but Daniel hated that
he
had let it happen. He’d encouraged it. He’d wanted too much. Good wasn’t good enough. His dream had been at Naya’s expense.

“I’m not stopping,” he rasped. “You hear me, Remy? Because this isn’t done until you make it right.”

“Let go of me, you sick fuck.” Remy’s voice broke. He was shuddering now, not fighting, not even tense. He’d tucked his chin toward his chest, his face nearly hidden. His words were muffled as he began a chant of his own. “I said no. I always say no and you keep making me. You fucking asshole,
please
. I said it, okay? You win. I’m begging you. Just stop, please.”

Christ.

Daniel stilled, but he was miles away from calm. Somewhere in the last few minutes, Remy had stopped fighting Daniel. He was fighting ghosts.

Forcing his muscles to relax, Daniel breathed out through his nose. Everything about him softened. He petted the sweaty hair back from Remy’s forehead, where his shaggy mohawk stuck up in a gnarled mess. Slowly, he turned the man’s face so that he couldn’t avoid a clear view of Naya. She remained naked on her knees. Straight white teeth bit one fist as her back shuddered on sob after sob.

Daniel’s soul was crawling out of his skin, aching to comfort her. That wasn’t his job. His job was to keep Remy from fleeing into the night or collapsing under the weight of old pain.

“Look at our girl, Remy. She’s begging too. She’s scared. You know how much she gives you, how much trust. And you know what it is to trust someone and have it jerked away. What kind of man will you be if you leave her now? Like this?”

“Stop.” The word was a rough, masculine,
defeated
whisper.

“You’ll be just another user, Remy. You’ll be a user who decides the shit from his past justifies hurting other people. How does it feel to see her like that? To know you’ve done that to the woman you love?”

“I don’t…”

His heart breaking, Daniel let go. Completely. He backed away to the far side of the seat well. Remy still huddled against the door. He’d clasped his fingers around the handle once more, but that seemed to be his unconscious mind’s choice. The real Remy was staring at Naya with haunted eyes. Pain and horror warped the young man’s roughly handsome features.

He circled his shoulder forward a few times, then rubbed his throat and ground the heels of his hands against his eye sockets. He still wouldn’t meet Daniel’s gaze, but then again, he didn’t need to. He needed to look at the damage he’d wrought. That meant staring at Naya as she shivered, her tears pooling on the leather upholstery—staring until he found the balls to make it right.

Remy swallowed. He cleared his throat. Even then, he started twice before finding his voice. “Hey, Naya girl.”

Daniel’s body went limp. Now he was the one begging, silently, his mind full of
please, please, please.

Slowly finding some means of reanimating the dead, Remy pushed away from the door. He eased forward, as if approaching a wounded animal. Naya and Remy—they both were.

Rather than kneel alongside her as Daniel would’ve done, Remy became just the man they both needed him to be. He sat on the leather bench seat, then spread his legs to bracket Naya’s huddled body.

“Up here, good girl.” His pitch was nearly the perfect blend of praise and force. Only, Daniel heard the detonated emotion that remained. “Up here with your Remy.”

He lifted her beneath the arms, urging with body and voice, soothing until Naya curled against his chest. He petted her hair and slicked the tears from her cheeks. “There’s a girl. Just like that. Right here with me,
chère
. Here with me.”

They couldn’t have wound any closer together without actually making love. In so many ways, this was more intimate. The most wounded man Daniel had ever known had found the strength to be better.

“Look at our Daniel,” he whispered against her cheek.

Together, two sets of eyes trained on where Daniel remained pressed against the seat barely daring to breathe. Only Naya held his gaze.

“He’s worried ’bout both of us.”

“Fix us.”

“Hm?”

“Wants to fix us.”

Remy tucked his forehead against her temple with another hard shudder. “He does. Funny way of showing it, but yeah, he does.”

“Loves us,” she said softly.

“Hush now. You know how he’s gonna fix this? He’s gonna help me make you feel so good. Perfect and amazing, like you are.” Remy urged her to turn in his arms. She resisted every movement, but he eased her along with whispered endearments and sweet words of praise until she rested with her back against his chest. Her thighs draped over his, pussy bare and open.

“Look at Daniel again. Do it, girl.”

With hazy, red-lidded eyes, Naya rolled her head until her dark gaze locked with Daniel’s. The softest smile in the history of smiles touched her lips. “Loves us,” she said again. “His angels.”

Daniel banked a shudder. She’d always known his heart, but he hadn’t realized how thoroughly.

“Come make our girl feel good, Daniel.”

No
boy
anymore. Not now. He was glad Remy had that much sense. This wasn’t about submission. It was about three people picking up sharp, broken pieces and trying to fit them back together without inflicting new wounds.

On a deep breath, Daniel stripped his coat and tie. He knelt between their parted legs. He wished his hands had been steadier, but maybe the time for a hard, unshakable show of strength was gone. God, he hoped so. His heart wasn’t in his chest anymore. It was a throbbing ache in his throat.

“I gotcha,
chère
.”

Remy stroked her cheeks, hair, throat, arms—everywhere he could reach. Every touch was tender and reassuring, but with quiet intention. Only when he reached her breasts and found the nipple clamps did his steady calm falter. Naya whimpered, and Remy quietly cursed. How long had she been wearing them? Going on ninety minutes?

Eyes pleading yet surprisingly calm, Remy met Daniel’s gaze for the first time since the fighting began.
Help me,
he mouthed silently.

“Hurts.”

“I know,
chère
. But you’re my lovely little pain slut. Daniel’s gonna eat you out until you can’t take anymore. You hear me?”

She moaned, arching back against Remy’s chest. The motion also served to thrust her pelvis closer to Daniel’s mouth. “Sir. Yes, Sir.”

“He got a good mouth. Good and strong and he ain’t gonna stop till you fly apart in my arms.” Every word was gaining confidence. The Dominant in Remy Lomand was crawling out from a bottomless pit. He flicked his forefingers against each nipple clamp. “Right then, right when you can’t breathe for how beautiful you feel—that’s when I’ll take these off. Show us how much you need this.”

Daniel didn’t wait for any more preamble. He gripped Naya’s inner thighs and pulled them apart, exposing the ripe, wet pink of her sex. She was a mess, both mentally and by her appearance, but her body was a whole other concern. The proof of her arousal dripped between her folds and sprinkled through her dark hair in gleaming droplets.

He knelt close, he inhaled and he licked. Daniel gave her every attention, using his lips, tongue and the barest hint of teeth. Soon her writhing body and panting gasps added to his intensity. He was still devastated—they all were—but this was his power to set right. Eager and greedy for her taste, he sucked deep, then speared his tongue into the well of her pussy.

Remy had wrapped his arms around her slender torso, with his forearms an X across her chest. He toyed with her breasts, softly, teasing, playing with the twin strands of beads that hung from each clamp. Naya twisted toward his touch.

The closer she got to orgasm, the more frantic her breathing became. Daniel slipped two fingers in her cunt and began to thrust, with his tongue still flicking her swollen clit.

“Ah, he’s a pretty boy when he’s on his knees,” Remy said softly. There was no mockery or anger in his voice now, just appreciation and wonder as he avidly watched Daniel work. “Look up at us, Daniel. Let us see your eyes and how much you enjoy this.”