Saved by His Submissive (27 page)

The tissues at her core betrayed that truth with pulsing, rushing clarity. Her pussy knew exactly what was about to happen, and readied itself with clenching, wet anticipation.

She dug her teeth into the gag, and sobbed in self-disgust.

The man behind her worsened the moment. Klause pressed himself against her, sliding one arm around her waist then wrapping the other up to caress one of her breasts. His mouth closed in against her ear, roughening her skin with his thick beard, and he spoke in a grate so low, only she could hear it.

Only…the European inflection was gone.

In its place was a perfect, dulcet lilt that zapped everything inside her back to life. It was an accent she dreamed about. Lived for. Even joked about. She liked to call it “Iowa farm stud.” And Garrett always glowered at her for it.

“I know we both dreamed of something like this happening differently, sugar…but if we can get through it, I’m gonna get you out of here. I absolutely promise it, my heart.”

Chapter Seventeen

Her long, sweet moan was one of the most beautiful things Garrett had ever heard. In it, he heard everything she couldn’t tell him in words. Her shock. Her joy. And her complete, open surrender. She was bypassing her fear, her independence and this outright shitty circumstance to give herself to him. To lay her body and her life completely in his hands.  

She moved him. Amazed him. Made him love her more deeply than he ever had.

And made him yearn to reclaim her, even if he had to do it in front of an audience of animals.

He walked behind the St. Andrews Cross on the pretense of double-checking the cinches in the bonds, but instead used the moment to get his face in front of hers. “Sugar, we had to present ourselves to this ass munch as sadistic pricks with money. I can’t give your sweet ass much of a warm-up on this, and I’m sorry. If it’s unbearable, give me your Girl Scouts promise, okay? Right hand, three fingers up. Moan for me if you understand.”

Sage lifted her head and let out a long, convincing keen for him. Her motion threw her face into the beams of the dungeon lights, and he saw the sheen of tears on them. An inferno burned through his chest, and he had to envision steel ropes around his wrists to keep from reaching up to her shimmery cheeks. He took a deep breath and prayed at least a few of the drops were from happiness.

After he walked back in front of the cross, he turned to the well-stocked supplies area. King must have raided every BDSM stockpile within five miles. A wooden pole sprouted about twenty floggers. Next to that, a whip rack was stocked just as fully. There was also a large cabinet with lighted shelves that were organized by toy type: dildos, clamps, inserts, electrosex devices, canes, crops, paddles…

There were more, but Garrett stopped at the paddles. Knowing King watched his every move, he bypassed the leather and fur-covered beginner versions, going for stricter devices such as a Scottish tawse and a long suede dragon’s tail.

He tested each implement on his forearm, as Zeke had instructed him. The action made it possible for him to throw a fast glance over at his friend. Z was ready with a reassuring nod, though that did nothing to help the guy from looking like a Hell’s Angels reject in his fake beard and nose. Wyatt’s ensemble was no better, with dark glasses and a false paunch that put him far into Bad Santa territory. But the three of them had long since passed the minutes of ribbing each other about their disguises. They were deep in the lion’s den now, and though Garrett had prayed the events wouldn’t come to this, the only way out was distracting the beasts long enough so Z and Wyatt could quietly let Josie and Rayna in on their identities, along with the main goals here.

They’d conduct a clean deal to “purchase” the girls from King. All the evidence would be monitored live, captured from Z’s necktie cam. As soon as they left, the Feds would take over, arresting King
again,
hauling his ass back off to FDC Sea-Tac. There would a special treat waiting for him when he arrived: a cellmate. The goons with the tampon box van had easily spilled about King’s twin brother. The pair would be watched day and night until their arraignment, now being rushed to priority status thanks to the dozen or more charges this whole stunt added to their crimes.

“Ahhh, the dragon’s tail. Excellent choice.”

Speak of the fucking devil. King murmured the approving words with a matching smile, speaking like Garrett was simply checking out fishing rods. Garrett had to consciously tell his lips to give an answering smirk, instead of grabbing one of the whips and saving FDC a shitload of money, effort, and paperwork by just strangling the bastard right now.

“You think so?” He forced civility to the reply.

King nodded. “It gives better control than a whip, yet yields just as much…fun.”

“Hmm.” Garrett had to navigate his brain past not only his fur, but the need that stung every inch of his cock since the second he’d gotten Sage naked. Damn it, the cramped quarters inside this fancy suit weren’t helping matters one bit.

In an impatient heat, he shucked the jacket. After folding it into a lump, he stuffed it against King’s chest. “Well then, my friend, why don’t you take care of this for me, have yourself a seat, and let me proceed to the ‘fun.’” He jabbed his head at a plush chair in a corner to the right. The selection wasn’t by accident. King would be across the room from all the guards, who were rapidly dropping into the zero effectiveness zone anyhow, thanks to their fixation on his nude fiancé.

It would be a miracle if he got out of here tonight without killing someone.

He needed to focus on Sage. On getting
her
out of here, away from this cocksucker’s clutches, forever.

King complied with his directive like an unthinking puppy. Thank fuck that even the thought of a few Benjamins turned the asshole’s mind to applesauce. The relief allowed Garrett to take a measured breath, knowing it would be the last of its kind for a while. Once he turned back to Sage, all bets would be off on his lungs cooperating with his brain. He had a feeling the command center between his ears was going to be busy controlling other things. Well, trying to.

Hell.

The speculation was more accurate than he estimated.

Though he was the one who’d locked her to the cross that way, beholding her anew was a jolt that stopped his feet, burned his veins, and swelled his cock with aching heat. No wonder all the guards were standing there like lusting gorillas. With her body opened in this position, one could admire every nuance of her figure. She’d always been glorious, but with the muted lighting of the room playing across her stretched naked limbs, she became a siren of sensuality, a vessel of surrender, waiting for a commander to harness her, tame her, possess her.

Eat shit, you motherfuckers. I’m that commander.

He made sure every step he took communicated that message, making the little crowd of perverts back up as he paced out a semi-circle in front of the cross. As he moved closer to Sage, her shoulders went taut and her ass cheeks clenched. That sight alone made his erection surge against his pants. Christ, she was magnificent, all naked sinew, dewy skin, and writhing anticipation. Tiny tremors raced along her body, confirming a fact that hit him like a lightning bolt: every sensation she was going to feel, every bite of pain and drop of arousal, was now under his control. The power was so intoxicating, he was damn glad he’d only sipped at the wine King had offered earlier. He was well on his way to the best high of his life, pumped on this heady exhilaration, this rush of power, this gift of complete trust.

Holy hell, why had he denied this for so long?

And why the fuck did he pick the shittiest times to arrive at major life epiphanies?

He dropped his head, the only reasonable method he could manage to clear it. Continuing to fill his stare with Sage was
not
the key there. He’d damn-near blown his cover a minute ago just by gazing too long, which had almost turned into the catastrophe of going over to her again, of touching her. He would’ve run his hands everywhere too…anywhere. Up her beautiful arms. Down her tapered legs. Across her belly…then lower. He would’ve dipped into the crevice of her moist, pouting sex, and lingered there for a long while. He would’ve awakened her skin and stirred her senses, coaxing her body to prepare itself for the impacts to come…

But he’d gotten an invite to this soiree by pretending to be a hardcore sadist. The kind of guy who didn’t get off on fun warm-ups or gentle lead-ins. The kind of guy who took a quality dragon’s tail and made sure his submissive knew how he’d be using it.

His fingers tightened around the wrapped leather handle. Every second he hesitated meant a tiny slip of credibility. He’d briefed Sage on what was to come. She was expecting this. And maybe, judging by the peeks he got at the shiny, wet layers between her thighs, she was even looking forward to it. And damn,
damn,
how he’d love to see her perfect, round buttocks marked by a stroke he’d given her…a brand he alone had burned into her…

Thwack.

He let out a heavy breath, hardly believing he’d done it.

Hardly believing it had felt so incredible.

Hardly believing that Sage’s long moan would double the pressure in his balls—and the lust that claimed everything south of his beltline.

 
Thwack.

He curled the tapered suede around again, marking her a little lower and a little harder. This time, a brilliant red streak rose along her skin. The next instant, he gave the welt an identical twin, aiming for the spot where her darling heart of an ass started tapering into her waist. With every measured lash, he made sure to watch for the safety sign from her right hand, but the fingers there were nowhere near a scout’s oath. Sage had the digits folded around the edge of her wrist cuff, kneading the leather in time to the breaths that came in giant swooshes through her nose. Her left hand did the same to its own bond.

He ran a fast visual on the edges of all her beautiful fingers. They all had good color and were ambulating fine. Thank Christ, because he sure as hell didn’t want to stop. To see what he did to her, turning her into this writhing, surrendering creature he was preparing for his pleasure alone, pulled out a mate from the most primitive parts of his own soul, his own body, the very beat of his heart and throbs in his cock.

He elbowed the sweat off his face, sucked in a couple of breaths, and let the animal step out a few steps more.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Sage screamed past the gag this time, the succession of blows meaning a higher concentration of pain to process. His little audience actually looked ready to clap in approval, until he stopped the morons with a glare. In the opposite corner, King emitted a hum of approval. Garrett forced back his frustration. He hated that he and Sage had to do this here, now. He hated that they hadn’t had a fucking word of foreplay or negotiation, that this crucial, beautiful new step for them was being used as a distraction tactic for a goddamn rescue mission, and—

The words halted his little morosity session.

Rescue Mission.

If he didn’t do this, he wasn’t walking out of here with her.

He had to phase King and his shitheads out, and tie his concentration to one person alone. The only person in this room who mattered. The only person in his
world
who mattered.

That meant laying into her with another trio of lashes.

Sage let out another high keen, bucking against her bondage. Garrett was sure he’d be sending up a thousand prayers for redemption, because the sight made him harder than a stallion on steroids. His pulse pounded with lust, and his cock wept with pre-cum. The swells of his woman’s ass were crisscrossed with red ribbons, like a present he longed to rip open. He had just the right tool with which to do that…

No. Not yet.

As deeply as he longed to throw down the slapper, step to her, then unzip and aim for nirvana, Garrett still felt the weight of King’s assessment. He was supposed to be a moneybags pervert who got off on pain as much as sex. He had to push the act one step harder.

Forcing himself to flick a cocky grin at King, he slid the dragon tail back onto its shelf before pulling out a new pair of play toys. The first, a mini slapper with diamond-shaped holes, got tucked into his pocket. The second was a leather mitt that fit snug around his big hand. He lifted it into the light, watching the entire front surface of the mitt twinkle thanks to the tiny steel tacks embedded into the leather. King let out another commending hum, but Garrett ignored the ass this time, afraid he’d ram the thing into the man’s ugly face.

All that mattered was Sage. Who had, unbelievably, gotten five times more gorgeous in the last thirty seconds.

He had no idea how he was going to keep his cock confined for another second, let alone the long minutes it would take to complete this long act of pleasure and pain. The damn thing was now painful cargo between his thighs, and got worse with every step he took back to where Sage waited in trembling silence, her body so golden, her ass so red, her surrender so beautiful.