Mastering Lexie (Stronghold Book 4) (25 page)

Lexie reached
up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into her so fast that she
caught him off balance and he actually came.  Her lips met his hungrily,
soft and slightly parted from surprise. 

Yes. 
This.  
This
 is
what I need.

Her tongue
moved, coaxing him, tasting mint as she delved into his mouth.  A low
groan vibrated through her body as his hands found her hips, fingers
tightening.  Need and passion burned like a fever, making her lightheaded
with euphoria as she finally, hungrily kissed him the way she'd always wanted
to.

The kiss
lasted for less than a minute.  Lexie cried out in disappointment as
Patrick thrust her away from him, stumbling back from her.  He'd responded
for one glorious second - she
knew
 he had - but then he'd suddenly
closed himself off again. 

The ache that
she'd been feeling in her body amplified with the loss.  He'd been
touching her, dammit.  Caressing her.  
Kissing her.
  Her
emotions whirled chaotically as the loss of his physical presence hit
her.  Rejection, anger, frustration, regret.  The perfection of the
moment dropped and shattered upon the impact of reality.

"Don't
ever
 do
that again."

The words were
like a knife to the heart.  Slashing so deep, so swiftly, that she
actually gasped, hunching over, because she could feel it like a physical blow
to her chest.  Patrick stepped forward, his dark eyes almost regretful,
but she shrank away from the hand he held out. 

"Pixie...
I'm sorry, I didn't mean it quite like that, but..."

"But
what?" she demanded, her body still slightly turned away from him. 
For all that she was no longer restrained, she suddenly felt a million times
more vulnerable than when she had been.  Her ass clenched around the plug
in it, making her feel even more unbalanced.  It wasn’t like she could take it
out right now, and its presence inside her was impossible to ignore, reminding
her with every twinge of her body how she’d just handed herself over to him.

The slight
remorse she saw in his eyes slid away, and he reverted back into the in-control,
arrogant Dom that she was far too familiar with.  Master Mold.  Head
Sentinel.  Owner of the club and sure that he knew what was best for everybody
in it.  "Your dominant controls the scene.  Not you."

"I wasn't
thinking, I was just reacting.  Because I wasn't getting what I
needed."  Slam.  A direct hit.  He actually winced. 
Vindictive anger rose up in her.  "You're jerking me around, Patrick. 
I need more than just a flogging and some toys.  It's not enough.  I
need to be touched.  I need to feel like there's not a fucking wall
between us."

Growling,
Patrick threw his hands up in the air, turning his back and stepping away from
her.  Lexie slid off the table, standing on wobbly legs.  Anger and
adrenaline were giving her strength now, but she still kept one hand on the
table, just until her head stopped whirling.  She wasn't dizzy, exactly,
just unsteady as her body normalized.

When he turned
around, she could see his frustration, even though she could tell he was trying
to hide it. 

"Look,
Pixie, maybe we shouldn't scene again until after Jake gets home and I've had a
chance to talk with him.  It's just too much-"

"Jake? 
What the hell does Jake have to do with anything?"

The look she
got was absolutely dumbfounded.

"He's my
best friend and your brother," Patrick said, sounding confused.  

Oh for the
love of...

"Are you
serious?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, and then wincing
when they pressed against her sore nipples.  She shifted them to
underneath her breasts, her right foot starting to tap.  That had always
seemed like a cliché, but right now she realized there was a reason behind the cliché. 
Her arms felt like they were all that was holding in her pent-up emotions,
while her tapping foot was leaking some of the energy that needed a place to go
before she exploded crazy bitch-rage all over him.  "You have to talk
to Jake, before you'll touch me.  That’s what you’re saying."

Now Patrick
looked like he was getting kind of pissy too, which just enraged her even more.
 "Yes, Lex."  Ha.  Not 'Pixie' anymore apparently.
 "I have to talk to my best friend before I date his little
sister.  It's called-"

"It's
called
fuck off
," she snarled, springing into motion.  Darting
to her dress – as best she could with a plug in her ass - she snatched it up
along with her shoes and little purse, pulling it over her head as she stomped
towards the door, shoes dangling from her fingers.  Fury and misery were
clashing inside of her. 

She couldn't
even list the number of ways that she'd bent over backwards, shunting her pride
to the side, turning fucking flips to get Patrick's attention in the way she
wanted it.  She’d thought she'd finally gotten it.  Thought that he'd
finally seen her as more than Jake's little sister, realized that she was her
own person who could do what she wanted and be in a relationship with who she
wanted.  But big, bad Dom Patrick wasn't going to touch her without
someone else's permission.  Who the fuck was he kidding?

If he wanted
her -
really
 wanted her - he would never let anything or anyone
stop him.  He never had.  So why the hell wasn't she important enough
for him to go after, the way that she'd gone after him?

The Dungeon
was like a smack in the face as she raced out the door.  Sex, sweat,
screams, cries of pleasure and pain... all the things she'd wanted and
craved.  All the things she thought she finally had.

"Lex,
wait, slow down."  The concern in his voice actually had her slowing,
looking over her shoulder.  His hand grabbed on to her bicep, fingers
wrapping around like a caress.  "You're having sub-drop –“

"Oh fuck
you again," she shouted out in sheer exasperation.  Tears filled her
eyes, and not the good kind this time.  She didn't even notice that half
of the noise in the Dungeon came to a halt.  "You don't know
everything.  How dare you brush off my feelings by saying it's just
sub-drop, like they're not real, so that you don't have to acknowledge
them.  I know exactly what I feel.  I feel sick and tired of fighting
for you while you're sitting around waiting for
permission
 from my
brother.
 
The only person whose approval you should need is mine.  Do you think I've
asked Jake for permission for anything about you?  No, because it's none
of his fucking business!"

She burst into
tears, wrenching her arm out of his hand, and ran for the stairs.  Fuck
him.  Just fuck him so very much.  Behind her she could hear him
growling at everyone to go back to what they were doing, because all action in
the Dungeon had come to a halt while she'd shouted at him.  The only good
thing about it was that it gave her a head start to get up the stairs. 

Sprinting, she
ignored him calling her name.  She didn't have to listen to his orders
anymore.  The scene was over.  That's all it was for him. 
Scening with her, putting her off, placating her like a child until her brother
got home and he could ask
permission.

Dammit, why
couldn't he just love her, the way she loved him?  What would he do if
Jake got home and said he didn't want Patrick dating her?  It wouldn't
matter to her, she didn't care what her brother thought about her
relationships, but apparently what Jake wanted mattered more to Patrick than
what she wanted.  She'd put him first, over everything, over everyone, and
he'd just kept putting her off over and over again.  Because she hadn't
mattered enough for him to fight.  

A sob tore
through her throat.  Tears blinded her as she ran for the women's locker
room.  Patrick wasn't the only one calling her name now, but she ignored
them all.  She just had to get to safety, and the only safety for a
submissive woman in Stronghold with a Dom hot on her heels was the women's
room.  

She damn well
wasn't going to let him see her crying.  Not while he was invalidating her
feelings by saying it was all sub-drop.  Let him make himself feel better
with that if he wanted, but she knew better.  Sub-drop was the downside to
the euphoric ecstasy of a scene, the drop of emotions as adrenaline and endorphins
dissipated, before the chemicals in a human's brain normalized again.  It
happened, Lexie knew that, but this wasn't it.  At least, not all of it.

This was years
of her feelings being unacknowledged.  Months of hard work, of trailing
after him like an eager-to-please puppy dog, being brushed aside.  Hours
of proving to him that she could be the sub he always wanted.  If he
couldn't see that, if he couldn't appreciate that, then she didn't want to be
with him anyway.

She didn't
want to be with someone that didn't - or wouldn't - care about her the same way
she cared about him.

******

There had
never been a moment in his life when Patrick wished he didn't own
Stronghold.  He loved the club.  He loved his work.  But having
to stop and telling everyone to return to their own scenes, to give them a
quick reassurance that everything was fine - when it wasn't - made him wish he
didn't have the responsibility.  It took precious moments, moments in
which Lexie managed to get far ahead of him. 

Remorse,
anger, guilt, a rush of emotions pounded through him and made his breath
short.  It felt like his rib cage was squeezing his heart out of his
chest.  He'd thought that the memory of her face, wreathed in ecstasy,
would haunt him, but the memory of pain filling her eyes completely obscured
that.

Guilt that
he'd wanted to do more than kiss her, that he'd wanted to give in, lay her back
on the table, and fuck her senseless, had crippled him.  All his vaunted
self-control and he'd nearly lost it completely, just because her skin felt
like silk and she tasted like strawberries and sweetness.  He'd panicked,
and because he'd panicked, his thoughts hadn't been as ordered as they normally
were.

He hadn't
meant to hurt her, but nothing had come out right, and he wasn't sure if he
could explain his conflicting urges in a way that would placate her even if
he'd had an hour's warning.  Lexie didn't want to hear that he had to talk
to Jake first, he got that, but he also knew that he wasn't going to change his
mind about it. 

What was so
wrong with wanting to talk to Jake first anyway?  

Her reaction
was completely unreasonable and illogical, which was part of why he suspected
sub-drop.  It had been an intense scene, for both of them, followed
immediately by rejection... but he hadn't had a choice.  She just kept
pushing and pushing, without thinking about any of the consequences, as far as
he could tell. 

"LEX!"
 She hit the door to the ladies room, shoving past it, and he almost
roared out his frustration.  There was always the possibility that he
might be able to make it in there before anyone –

Fuck.

Mistress Lisa
stepped out of the room, eyes cold as ice.  He skidded to a halt,
panting.  Looking him over, a quick flash of sympathy skittered across her
face. 

"You know
I can't let you go in there."  Her tone was almost apologetic. 
Patrick really fucking regretted making the locker rooms so out of bounds to
opposite sexes.  Although, to be honest, he'd never had any control over
it, but he had encouraged it. 

Frustration
bubbled inside of him, ready to boil over.  He almost snapped when a hand
patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't
worry, Patrick, we've got this," Maria said, her voice full of concern as
she hurried past him.  Jessica shot him a look as she went by, right on
Maria's heels.  Mistress Lisa turned her body slightly to let them pass,
her arms crossed over her breasts, as if she was standing guard. 
Apparently she didn't trust him not to go into the room without someone
actively blocking his way.

Good on her.

Clenching his
fists, as if they could somehow hold in his uselessness and rage, he stormed
towards his office.  If he stood outside the door, waiting, his temper
would just boil over and he'd end up punching someone.  Probably someone
who didn't deserve it. 

Inside his
office, he could throw things.  Shout.  Send his chair flying across
the room.  Thank god for soundproofing.

Grabbing the
phone, he hit the direct connection to the bar.

"You
okay, man?"  Rick's voice, laden with worry, didn't do anything to help
his temper.  Like he needed to be reminded that everyone had seen him lose
complete control, not just of the scene or his submissive, but also of
himself.  He couldn't remember who was supposed to be behind the bar
tonight, but apparently they'd decided to let Rick deal with him.  Which
meant all the assholes out there were probably already speculating about what
had just happened.

"Call me
as soon as she's out," he growled.  "Don't let her leave without
talking to me again."  He slammed down the phone and barely resisted
the urge to throw it across the room as well.  He was going to need it so Rick
could call him and let him know when Lexie finally came out of the locker room. 

"FUCK!"
he yelled, pounding his fist into his desk.

Which hurt
like a bitch.  

If Lexie
wasn't barricaded in the women's locker room, he'd already be on his way over
to Liam's dojo to blow off some major steam.  Come to think of it, doing
so was practically becoming a Stronghold courtship ritual.  Had any of the
other guys
not
 done so while in the process of solidifying their
relationships?  He didn't think so.  That made him feel marginally
better.

Unfortunately,
that tiny loss of anger meant that other emotions were able to take over. 
Misery.  Helplessness.  Frustration.  He couldn't get to Lexie,
and even though he knew her friends would be taking care of her, it wasn't the
same.  Patrick wanted to be the one to hold her and give her water and...