Ashes - Book 2 (New Adult Romantic Suspense) (10 page)

Leaning forward, I place my eye to the one or so inch crack, my heart hammering in my chest.

I see him, walking her backwards and shoving her hands above her head.

“Harder,” I hear her say, then she cries out for a reason I can’t see.

What am I doing?

“Make it hurt,” I hear her say.

He laughs, a deep vibration that penetrates my uterus.

I look through the crack of the door again.

This is so terribly wrong.

Chapter 15 — Gage

The mystery of the key is solved when Amber stops in front of a door and inserts the one her friend had given her. Apparently, Sophie’s dad is part owner of the club and he has an office somewhere on this floor.

Fuck yeah. This is exactly what I need to get my mind off the heavy shit I’ve been carrying around the past few days.

No strings.

No attachments.

Just sex.

A casual release.

I lean down and kiss Amber’s shoulder and then that sensitive place behind her neck. She pushes back into me. “Mmm,” she moans. I kiss her again.

When the door is open, she pulls me inside and turns into my arms. She exposes her neck to me and I sink my teeth into her throat.

“Harder.”

I bite her again.

I walk her backward until the wall is at her back. Grasping her wrists, I twist them until they’re over her head.

“Fuck me, Gage. Hard. Make it hurt.”

I remember how surprised I’d been the first time she’d asked me to hurt her. I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to do. What the limits were. Mine or hers.

But it had been fun experimenting and playing in that world. I’d learned and had found some pleasure in her love of pain. Pleasure in her submission.

It was a nice place to visit, but I didn’t want to live there.

“Take off your dress,” I tell her and let go of her hands.

It doesn’t take much, just one tug of the string around her neck and the dress essentially pools at her feet. She isn’t wearing a bra and the panties are barely a string.

I reach out and palm Amber’s huge breasts. She has implants, I can feel them, like giant balloons in my hands. Beth’s small ones flash across my mind, the soft flesh, the tiny nipples. How responsive they are to the slightest touch.

Dammit. I have to stop thinking about her.

I know what Amber wants, but I make her wait. “Please,” she whispers and licks her lips, her breath coming in little gasps. I cave in and twist her nipples until she cries out in pain.

“More?” I ask her.

Looking at me with those blue eyes, she licks her lips again. “Please.”

She cries out, throwing her head back and digging her nails into my arms. I let go and she whimpers. I twist them once more.

Her fingers lift and she begins to unbutton my shirt. “Tell me what you want,” she says. “I’ll do anything.”

That’s true. She will. Flashes of me tying her up, spanking her, dripping hot wax onto her cross my mind. Anal sex. Double penetration with a dildo. She wants it all. The harder the better.

So, what do I want?

I see Beth again. Lying beneath me. Trusting me enough to take my weight.

I shake my head and run my hand through my hair. Dammit, she’s like a ghost living in my head.

I look at Amber, who’s impatiently waiting for my answer, her fingers going from one button to the next.

“Suck my cock,” I tell her and she smiles, lowering herself to her knees.

Chapter 16 — Beth

I’m hypnotized. Magnetized. Unable to tear my gaze away. I’m appalled and fascinated by what I’m doing, spying on two people having sex. But I’m even more appalled and fascinated by what I’m seeing.

Is this what Gage wants?

To cause pain and have someone follow his orders?

Then why has he been with me? Because I hate pain and would punch the first man who told me what to do in the nose.

Against my will, I flashback to learning about my parents’ playroom for the very first time. I’d always been curious as to what was behind that door, but it had always been locked and the key carefully hidden.

Still. I’d needed to know. I’d craved to know. It had nearly become an obsession.

So I’d done what any sixteen year old would do. I’d gone on YouTube and learned how to pick a lock.

Stupid.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

My parents were away for the night when I decided I was brave enough to try my new lock picking skills. It had taken several tries, but I’d done it. And moments later, I really wished I hadn’t.

There were whips hanging from the wall, handcuffs and chains. Leather cuffs and straps. Things I couldn’t name. There was a bed and a bench, and a cross on the wall. Things hanging from the ceiling.

It looked like a torture room. I was sure it was a torture room. I slammed the door, carefully locking it again and ran to my room and cried.

Then, I did what any sixteen year old girl would do. I went on the internet and did some research. I learned about playrooms, BDSM, dominants and submissives. I learned it was a lifestyle that many people enjoyed.

But my parents?

MY
mom and dad?

The questions had haunted me.

How long had this been going on?

And the big one …
why
?

How was whipping someone fun? Or making them bend to your will? I didn’t understand it then and I don’t understand it now. Even when Steph tells me about her and Ken’s adventures, I smile and nod, but truthfully, I don’t get it.

I remember facing that door a second time, after I’d been armed with internet knowledge. I picked the lock, opened the door and hoped the room wouldn’t look so ghastly.

But it did.

It was just as bad as the first time.

And my parents did stuff together in that room. And later, I learned they did stuff in there with others.

I was sickened by my parents and found it hard to be in their presence for a really long time. I threw myself into basically doing anything they didn’t want me to do. I started to drink, but managed to stay away from drugs. Barely. Instead, I cheered and spent hours at the gym doing gymnastics and dance. I’d stay at my friends’ for days at a time, but never confided what I’d learned to any of them.

It was during that time that I swore no man would ever control me. Then … I was raped. And my need for control in my life had grown even stronger.

It was all consuming. Like a fever raging through my body.

The blonde woman’s moans draw me back to the present and I watch her sink to her knees. A moment later, Gage’s pants are down around his ankles and I’m staring at the tight ass I know so well.

Oh God, no. I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to see the man I was so close to falling for have sex with another woman. I can tell myself that I’m progressive and open minded all day long. I can pretend I don’t care what he does or who he does it with.

But I do care and the knife I feel in my gut is evidence of just how deep that caring goes.

How did I allow this to happen?

How did I fall in love with Gage?

And how was I going to fall right back out of it?

Chapter 17 — Gage

Her warm mouth feels so good as she takes me into her throat. Her sucking and licking noises blend perfectly with the moans coming from her chest.

Amber’s so hot. Her mouth. Her hand. The confidence that makes her bold. And her experience … um, plenty of experience. She knows exactly how to use her hand on the part of me she can’t take into her mouth.

Her hair brushes my thighs as my cock disappears and reappears before me. Her tongue works around my shaft, giving different sensations. Her free hand cups my balls and I’d applaud her if it was at all appropriate. Instead, I moan my appreciation of her talent.

I started seeing Amber about a year ago and we’ve gone out a couple of times a month since then. She’s the only woman I’ve been with that could almost take all of me in her mouth. The girl didn’t seem to have a gag reflex. As if on cue, she takes me deep … farther and farther … until her nose is pressed against my skin.

I moan again, a deep involuntary exhale that I don’t try to muzzle. I feel my balls tighten and I don’t want her to stop, but I know that if she doesn’t, I’ll blow way too early. I’ve been needing this distraction. I don’t want it to be over with too quick.

Beth could distract you.

Fuck. It’s like someone has whispered that thought into my head and I fight like hell to push it out.

Yes, Beth is beautiful and tough and funny. But she can be cold and rigid too. And I never know which Beth will show up — good Beth or bad Beth. I don’t want to live my life—

God!

What’s wrong with me? I have this gorgeous blonde woman giving me head and I’m arguing with myself about Beth.

I’m losing it.

I really am.

Maybe I just need to bend Amber over, fuck her hard and fast and go home. Or maybe go to the card game with the guys. I’m clearly too fucked up to be making any kind of important decision. Even not-important decisions. Like this one.

The hair on the back of my neck raises and I suddenly feel as if I’m being watched. I ignore it, but the feeling grows stronger. I open my eyes and look around, trying to spot what has me suddenly on edge. I look behind me and realize the door is cracked open an inch or so.

Shit. Is someone watching?

Adrenaline kicks in as I remember with some certainty kicking it closed. Didn’t I? I try hard to remember hearing the door click. I don’t know for sure.

Amber bends lower and takes my balls in her mouth, pulling my attention back to her. The sense of being watched begins to vanish, almost as quickly as it came. Then I hear a noise in the hallway.

Someone speaking?

A cry?

It has come and gone too quickly to tell.

I listen hard, trying to hear it again. Nothing. Just silence except for the noise Amber is making. Then I hear it again. Another little cry.

Agent Grimes’ voice echoes in my head …
you still carry that gun?

I pull back and step away from Amber and she cries out, reaching for me. I hold up a finger, silently asking her to wait and be quiet. She pouts, but sits back on her heels and I feel her eyes watching my movements.

Bending, I pull my pants up and button them before I reach down and pull my little Ruger from my ankle holster. Amber gasps when she sees the gun. I put my finger to my lips and she, very quietly, scoots over to her dress and begins to tug it on.

Chapter 18 — Beth

A little sob escapes my lips and I clamp my hand over my mouth. I back further away from the door, but can still see a sliver of Gage and the woman.

I watch him stiffen and for a moment I’m certain that he’s climaxed and am somewhat relieved. If nothing else, the torture of knowing he was with that beautiful creature would be over.

Maybe.

Then he turns his head and is looking around the room, his head tilted as if listening for something. Then he turns most of the way around and I’m certain … absolutely certain … that our eyes meet for the space of a hundred heartbeats. In that moment, I know he’s caught me watching him. I wholeheartedly believe he’s caught me standing there like the voyeur I am.

Another sound escapes me.

Mortification?

Deep sadness?

Distress?

A combination of everything?

I nearly jump out of my skin when Gage suddenly bends down and begins to pull his pants up and turns toward the door. My breath whooshes out in surprise.

In full panic, I look up and down the labyrinth of halls, trying to remember which way I came and, more importantly, which way I’d come closer to finding a hiding spot.

I can’t let him find me.

He can never know I watched him or how much I care. Tears are pouring down my face. I’m crying over a man.

Stupid.

I’m so stupid.

I know the rules of our relationship and blew them. When did this happen? I didn’t even know I felt this way until this moment.

When I see Gage bend down and pull a gun from his ankle holster, my heart leaps into my throat and I turn and run.

Grateful to be carrying my shoes, I stay on my toes and push myself into a full sprint. I dash into the first hallway I come to, stopping to listen as soon as I’m out of sight.

I don’t know how long I stand there, listening and afraid to move, but in a few moments I hear the woman’s voice and then the click of her heels going in the opposite direction.

I hold my breath, frozen in place until all is silent around me. Just as I inhale, a hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my scream.

I’m yanked backward and nearly lose my breath as I collide into a man’s hard chest. I recover quickly and begin to struggle, using my elbows to land any blow that I can. He growls as my heels connect with his shins and knees.

The hand over my mouth tightens, the fingers so thick they block most of my nostrils. I can’t breathe and the edge of my vision goes grey. I bite at his hand, but he presses harder, crushing my lips into my teeth.

He curses and shoves me into the wall, pushing me against the cool cement blocks. I’m pinned and don’t have the strength to push back. When I give up, going limp and heaving with exhaustion, he laughs.

Then his breath is hot against my ear and he growls, “I think you’ve been a very bad girl.”

End of Book 2