“What happened?” Glorie asked, her hand on his arm. Music from the ballroom filled the hall.
“Someone let it slip who I was.”
“Who?”
“Bo and Mary. Take them off the list. They broke the rules.” Keeping identities a secret was first and foremost, after safe, sane, and consensual. He expected those in the club to respect one another and not gossip. “Monday, arrange for Jerri to be disciplined. If she doesn’t accept, she’s out of the club as well.”
“What about her friend? Kari?”
“She can watch.” He held up his hand. “No, she will watch. Better she learns there are consequences to breaking club rules.”
He strode down the hall and out into the night. Nearing the cabin, he noticed the lights were on. He had his hand on the doorknob, but it opened and Jaimie rushed out, suitcase in hand. She still wore the gown. “Jaimie—”
She held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk to you, Mr. Langston. You lied to me. You tricked me. You used me!”
Bryce’s stepped in front of her. “No. I never lied to you, because I never told you my name. Nor were you tricked. You were promised a weekend of role-play with a prince of your dreams.”
“Lying by omission is the same as lying. You used me.” She tried to shove past.
Snagging her arm, he stopped her. “No.” His voice remained low. “I saw my chance to speak to you and learn the truth.”
“So you put Lucy up to this?” Her eyes glittered with fury in the moonlight. She gripped the handle of her travel bag hard enough that her nails dug into her palm.
Bryce shook his head. “No. Lucy put your name on the list months ago, long before you discovered the embezzling.”
Jaimie wasn’t sure she believed him, but she did trust Lucy. Lucy would not have done anything to hurt her. That she had to believe. “She told me you never participate.”
“I haven’t. Not since losing my wife.” He paused. “Until this weekend.”
Shoving him back, Jaimie shot out, “Until me. You wanted to see if I was involved.”
“Yes.” Bryce crossed his arms across his chest. “If it makes me a bastard, then so be it, but I had to know if you were part of the embezzling ring.”
“I told you on the phone what happened. I gave you a detailed record, yet you still didn’t believe me. Obviously, you didn’t believe Lucy when she told you I was innocent?”
“No.”
His admission hurt. Far more than it should have. “You’re a bastard, Mr. Langston.” Jaimie elbowed him to get around him. She was going to the castle. Surely, there was a room somewhere away from all the wanton sex games. Hell, she’d sleep on the floor of the bathroom if she had to.
Bryce snagged her arm as she stormed past him. “Yeah, I’m a bastard. Your bastard, Jaimie, and our weekend isn’t over yet.” He tore the suitcase from her hand and tossed it to one side. He couldn’t let her go. Not until she understood, not until he found a way to tell her that he loved her.
Jaimie struck out at him, but he grabbed her wrists and yanked her hard against him.
She froze. “I’m not sleeping with you. You’re not my prince. You’re a toad. A big, fat, stinking, warty toad.” She tipped her chin in defiance.
“Don’t challenge me, Jaimie. We both know I can bring you to your knees and have you begging me to fuck you.”
“And a conceited toad.”
Prince Sneaky Bastard
.
“Shall we wager on this?”
“It’s not me who’ll give in first,” Jaime said with a sniff. “You’re the randy goat.”
“So now I’m a goat. And a toad.” He lifted a brow. “Got more names you’d like to call me?”
God, he loved the fire in her eyes.
“Hell, yes. I can add to the list, my not so charming prince. Like Prince Snak—”
Enough was enough. He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, heading for the bedroom. He set her down, whirled her around, and tore the back of her gown. “Take it off.”
The gown fell as Jaimie turned. “You take yours off. Let’s even the playing field.”
Bryce stripped off his tunic and his pants and watched as she stepped out of the gown. He stared at her, his gaze lingering on her rosy tits and the nest of blonde curls hiding her sex. “On the bed. On your back.”
She lay down, arms stiffly at her side, legs together. She didn’t look at him but stared up at the ceiling. He slid his body over hers. She was stiff as a board, yet he felt the slight tremble she couldn’t hide. He narrowed his eyes and smiled grimly. If she wouldn’t listen to what he had to say, then he’d show her how he felt.
He reached into the drawer to his right and snagged a pair of fur-lined cuffs, sat quickly, and snapped one on, then grabbed her other hand, cuffed it, and snapped the chain to the hidden hook on the headboard.
****
“What the hell?” Jaimie tried to free her hands but couldn’t. Though the cuffs were soft, they were strong. They were real, not cuffs she could simply tear open. “I didn’t agree to this,” she said as Bryce slid off her. He grabbed two more sets of cuffs, and she fought him as he grabbed one ankle. She kicked, bucked her hips, and swore, but in quick order, her feet were cuffed to the tall posts at the foot of the bed.
She was spread eagle and open. And vulnerable. Anger had tears stinging the back of her eyes. She didn’t want to give in. The sex was wonderful, more than wonderful, but that had been when she’d trusted him. “You’re cheating, because it’s the only way you can win.”
He slid back on top of her, his cock touching the entrance to her pussy, his eyes dark and seductive as he stared down into her furious glare. “Do you trust me?”
She snapped her mouth shut, thrown off balance by the question that mirrored her thoughts. He waited. Finally, she answered in her best prim and proper voice. “How can I trust you?”
God, her body wanted him to slide right into her and fuck her senseless, but she felt betrayed. Used.
He held her face and lowered his mouth to hers. “ Do you trust me not to hurt you?”
Jaimie pressed her lips tightly together. She did trust him. He wouldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t want to give him that small concession. “You’ve already hurt me.”
His eyes clouded for a moment, then cleared. “We’ll come back to that. After. You issued the challenge, and you’re going to beg. You’re going to admit you are a sex-starved slut. My sexy slut.”
Her eyes widened, then she narrowed them. “Like hell.” She wasn’t a slut or a whore, even if she acted like one.
Bryce got off the bed and headed for the armoire across the room. He returned with a small black remote in one hand and a whip in the other with what looked like a small jar as well. His cock stood proud and ready, and he didn’t even seem aware of his aroused state.
But Jaimie’s body reacted. Her clit pulsed, and as she stared at the whip in his hand, she grew wet, remembering how he’d teased her with it before. “You are not playing fair.”
“Never said I would. He held up the remote and touched a button. Above their heads, the ceiling slid apart, revealing a mirrored surface.
Jaimie blinked as she stared at herself tied to the bed. Through the mirrors, she watched Bryce slid onto the bed beside her. He trailed the fringed end of the whip across her breasts. Then he flicked it, slapping at one of her nipples.
She gasped. It didn’t hurt, his spanking earlier at the pond had stung much more, but her body tightened with need. He did the same to her other nipple, then alternated between teasing and lightly whipping her breasts with only a little sting that sent waves of desire coursing through her. In the mirror, she observed her white flesh turning a rosy pink. He repeated the flicking and slapping down her belly and across each thigh and even against her wet pussy. She felt the dampness of her juices on the leather when they made contact. Nothing hurt except the need building deep in her core. She bit her lip to keep from begging for more.
“Do you trust me?” He dragged the end of the whip across her mouth, letting her smell leather coated with her scent.
Keeping her mouth shut, she nodded. She did trust him with her body. She trusted that he knew exactly how to touch her and where to bring her to the most glorious orgasms, and that made her afraid.
“Say it.”
“I trust you. With my body.”
“Are you my sexy slut?”
Jaimie narrowed her eyes as he trailed the whip from breast to breast, breast to belly, and belly to clit. She gasped when he slid the thin rod of the whip through her slit, gliding it over her throbbing clit. She had to hold her breath to keep from crying out as he bounced the tip against her.
Bryce set the whip down. “Stubborn girl. You know you’re going to admit it.” He shifted, knelt between her legs with his cock above her nest of blonde curls. He reached behind him, picking up a glittering jar. Opening it, he pulled out a brush. The bristles sparkled.
She gasped when he twirled the soft bristles across one breast.
“You, my lovely slut, have nice tits.” He applied the glittering powder to her other breast, paying special attention to her aching nipples. Then he twirled the brush down her belly, over her clit, and down to her pussy and back up, dipping the brush into the jar as he continued his upward path. Then he brushed her lips and set the jar aside.
Watching him in the mirror was strangely erotic. When he leaned down to kiss her, his ass rose into the air and his cock slid against her. God, he had the most amazing ass she’d ever seen. She wanted to squeeze the firm flesh and guide him into her. His lips brushed hers, his tongue darting out to lick the powder from her lips.
“Sweet. Like you,” he murmured as he teased her lips.
She tried to ignore him. He nipped her lower lip, she moaned, her mouth opening to allow him to enter. She tasted sweetness. Honey. Groaning, she tried to capture his tongue, but he evaded her, trailing his mouth down her throat to her breasts. He sucked and licked, swirled his tongue around her hard nipple, then nipped her gently.
The ache between her legs grew, but she couldn’t move them. The weight of his hips kept her from thrusting upward. Her breasts were so sensitive that the slight abrasion from his shadowed jaw made her gasp.
“Your body wants me.” He pinched her nipples. “You can’t deny me or yourself.” His mouth trailed down her belly, licking her clean, his tongue swirling in the tiny indent. In the mirror, she watched him move lower and lower. She wanted to beg him to hurry, but chewed her lower lip instead. She would not beg.
His lips closed over her clit. Her hips jerked, and she cried out as he drew her swollen bud into his mouth and sucked hard. The suddenness of his attack inflamed her body. She’d expected him to tease and taunt her, bring her to the edge and back off. Just as she was about to give in and beg, he let her go and his tongue flicked around the opening to her wet, gleaming pussy. He didn’t enter her, just teased until she thought she might go mad.
He lifted his head and looked at her. “Ready to admit defeat?” His finger stroked her entrance.
The woman in the mirror screamed at her to admit defeat and beg him to fuck her. Jaimie could take the fast and easy way out. He’d fuck her and then it would be over between them. Or she could draw it out, savor the rest of the night, and enjoy all her prince had to offer. Morning would come fast enough and with it reality.
She shook her head, then slowly licked her lips and wiggled her hips. “Not until you admit defeat.”
He grinned, reached back, and freed her feet. With his hands beneath her ass, he lifted her and buried his face between her legs, his tongue stroking along her folds, over her clit and down. He pressed hard, his nose on her clit and his tongue thrusting deep inside her.
Jaimie let out a strangled scream and yanked on her arms, her hips jerking as he fucked her with his tongue. When his mouth closed over her clit again, she thought she was going to lose it. She throbbed and ached and needed the promise of another earth-shattering orgasm.
Once again, he lifted his head. This time he drove two fingers inside her. “Are you my slut? Are you ready to beg?”
God, yes, but she had to hold out, had to make him lose control first. “No. Play fair,” she said. “Stick your cock inside me, and then we’ll see who does the begging.” Through the mirror, she saw his pulsing shaft, his engorged head, and the tiny bit of moisture leaking out. He rolled on a condom, his movements slow as he teased her with the promise of his full, throbbing arousal.
He shoved her legs up, bent her knees, and pushed them back, opening her. She felt his cock poised at her entrance, felt him sliding into her a stingy inch at a time. Another scream lodged in her throat as he filled her, burying himself as deep as she could take him.
“Are you my slut?” He pulled out and thrust back in.
She closed her eyes, shook her head, and tried to move her hips, but he held her firm as he slid in then out.
“Watch,” he commanded.
In the mirror, she saw him slide out and shove back inside.
“Watch my cock.” He eased her legs back further, which lifted her hips, revealing her pussy in the mirror. It was incredibly sexy to see him sliding in and out, to see her wetness, her pink flesh. He reached over her head and freed her hands.
“Open yourself.” He resumed the tortuous strokes.
Jaimie parted her pussy lips, revealing her aching clit. She watched the reflection of that thick length pull out of her and that wonderful, broad head glide across her clit, stroking her, harder and faster.
“Tell me.”
She heard the desperate need in his voice, knew he was on the edge, as she was. His face dripped with sweat and lines of desire furrowed his forehead and bracketed his mouth. Control. She was in control. She could make him come. Any time. Or she could give in and let him drive her over the edge.
“I’m your slut,” she cried out. And god help her, she was. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me come.”
With a moan, he slid back into her, fell on top of her, and took her mouth in his. “Thank god,” he murmured as he pumped his hips and drove himself inside her.
Her scream mingled with his hoarse cry.
****
Jaimie woke alone. For a long time, she just lay there. The mirrors were gone, replaced by a skylight that was open to the gentle warmth and light of a new day. She smiled, recalling how Bryce had used the remote to reveal a night sky above the skylight. It had been truly enchanting to sleep beneath the stars and make sweet, gentle love with a warm night breeze drifting over them.