Working methodically, deVries released the masochist and helped him sit on the floor with a blanket around his shoulders. Talking in a soft voice, he handed HurtMe a bottle of water and made sure he drank.
Lindsey frowned as she watched deVries clean the equipment and pack his bag while tending HurtMe with a firm kindness, much as her father had cared for a horse in labor.
HurtMe’s face showed open desire. Despite his hard-on, deVries showed nothing of the sort.
“Are you okay?” Rona asked. A Dark Haven staff member stood beside her.
“I’m confused,” Lindsey whispered.
“Not surprising.” Rona squeezed her shoulder. “Come on. Show’s over.”
“Right.” Her body still burned. Needing…needing something and someone it wasn’t going to receive.
“Lindsey,” Rona prompted, “Xavier sent MaryAnn down to get me. He wants me to check out a submissive who’s bleeding.”
“Go on. I’ll meet you in a bit.”
As soon as I can get my body to move
. As Rona hurried off after the staff member, Lindsey looked back at the scene.
Having helped HurtMe to his feet, deVries motioned for two of the masochist’s friends to approach.
HurtMe shook his head, set his palms on the sadist’s chest, and leaned forward to whisper.
Lindsey flinched, wanting to smack the masochist and rip his hands away.
No. Not mine. DeVries isn’t mine.
When deVries got a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding scowl, HurtMe lifted his hands, whining, “But, but Master. I want—”
“No, boy. That’s not going to happen.” As deVries turned his back, HurtMe’s friends escorted him away.
Stunned, Lindsey stared. What was that about?
Slinging his bag over his shoulder, deVries glanced over the dispersing audience.
Oh shit.
Lindsey edged sideways to retreat.
Too late. His potent stare trapped her, held her in place. His regard traveled from her face down her body and back up. His eyes narrowed.
Then his lips curved…as if he’d won a prize.
Oh, that’s bad.
Lindsey sucked in a breath and forced her feet to move.
I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t do this again.
She dodged a Master attaching a harness to his pony-slave and had to stop for a submissive kneeling before her Mistress. Finally the way was clear.
A powerful hand closed on her shoulder. “Going somewhere, pet?”
He turned her, forcing her to face her most wonderful dream, most savage heartache. Heather-gray eyes bored right into her soul and twisted every aching emotion.
“I—I was just watching.” When she strove to ease away, his grip tightened. “I’m sorry if my presence bothered you.”
He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Nope. Bothered you, though. I could feel the heat from over there. All excited are you?”
The blood rushed into her face with an almost audible whoosh. “I’m not—”
“Oh baby,” he murmured. “You are.” He slid his hand under her chin, tilting her head for a leisurely perusal. “Seems like watching me hurt someone arouses you.” His voice deepened and dug holes through the barriers she’d raised. “Yeah?”
Couldn’t run. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t lie. Not to him. Even the abject humiliation she felt didn’t prevent her nod.
His hand dropped, the gray in his eyes lightened to green, and the harsh lines bracketing his mouth smoothed into a smile. Hellfire, her heart could resist his irritation, his scowls—not his smiles. With merely his expression, he’d hobbled her like a horse prevented from straying, keeping her where she could be touched. Used.
When he took her hand, she instinctively struggled to pull away. He snorted. “Oh Tex, you know better than that.” With his eyes holding the heat of the previous scene, he wrapped her hair around his fist. “Come with me.”
“No,” she whispered. He kept moving. “Damn you!” She dug in her heels. “Stop.”
To her surprise, he did. Still controlling her hair, he put his other hand on her cheek, and the juxtaposition of control and tenderness wrenched her heart. “Let’s talk. A few minutes. Can you give me that?”
Why did she long to offer him anything he asked for? Knowing her agreement would only lead to more pain, she still nodded.
“Thank you, pet, for the trust.” He touched his mouth to hers—a gentle graze of lips.
To her horror, he steered her into a theme room and closed the door before releasing her.
Lordy, the harem room. She’d looked in a few times, yet never entered. Breathing in the heady fragrance of sandalwood, she turned in a circle. Over her head, dark blue silk draperies angled from the center point of the ceiling to high on the walls and dropped straight down to give the illusion of an opulent tent. A wrought iron screen attached to one wall held ready-to-use wrist and ankle cuffs. “How about we talk upstairs instead?” Where the atmosphere didn’t whisper decadence.
Although his lips twitched, his gaze stayed serious. He took a seat on an ornately carved wooden bench and pulled her between his outstretched legs, holding her hands in his. “You saw the scene with HurtMe?”
She nodded.
“I know you don’t like that level of pain, Lindsey, but, when you watched, what were you thinking?”
“I—” She looked away, trying to think.
“Look at me.” When she met his intense gaze, he said, “Now tell me. All of it. I won’t be angry, but I need to know, pet.”
“I was glad it wasn’t me under your flogger.” She started with the easy answer.
His gaze never left her face as he nodded. And waited.
“Um. I was a little”—
a lot
—“jealous he and you could share that.”
“All right. Go on.”
“I was…” She didn’t want to confess more. Her throat dried, making the words stick and jumble.
Silence.
“It…it was hot. What you did.”
One side of his mouth tilted up.
Did he think she was silly? Stupid? Anger slid into the unhappiness welling inside her. “You walked away from him. Shouldn’t you be with him now? To finish…” Maybe even to fuck him. The thought made her throat close.
A vertical crease appeared on his forehead. She remembered how she would trace her finger up the tiny valley between his brows.
“Finish what?” he asked. “The scene was over. He doesn’t require much aftercare; he got what he needed.”
“But he wants more. And HurtMe said you were…” She flushed. Aw heck, she’d known. HurtMe hadn’t told her the truth. Or—even worse—he had told her
his
truth. Maybe that was why she’d been confused—because he actually thought he and deVries had something going on. Regrettably deVries didn’t have a clue.
“What…exactly…did HurtMe say?” His eyes hardened.
Oh spit. “He thought you used me to make him jealous.”
“Why the fuck would I want to do that?” The expression on deVries’s face went from blank to comprehension to irritation.
She wet her lips and spoke carefully. Time for really, really clear speech. “You’re not—weren’t—in a relationship with HurtMe?”
DeVries snorted. “I don’t do guys.” He let her hands go, catching her hips before she could retreat. “If I wanted to fuck men, I would, babe. My dick prefers women.”
“You had an erection during your scene.”
He dug his fingers into her buttocks, pulling her closer. “I’m a sadist, and dishing out pain makes me hard.” He shook his head. “When I was younger, I tried reaming a guy or two. Doesn’t do it for me.”
“But…”
With one big hand curved around her thigh, he used the other to unzip her latex shirt. A hum of enjoyment came from him. “I like breasts,” he murmured, taking one in his hand, weighing it, stroking his thumb over her nipple, sending random flares lighting up her body. “I like cunt. The way you smell. The softness. The sound of a woman’s voice when she gets off.”
He wasn’t upset. Not trying to prove something. Just stating the facts with an undeniable conviction. This was deVries. He knew himself. Knew what he liked.
“I think you should talk with HurtMe.” No matter how much he’d added to her upset, normally the masochist was a nice guy. Perhaps confused. “I know emotions can get muddled when two people scene together and make such a connection. He believes there’s more between you than there is.”
“I’ll give Xavier a heads-up, and I’ll talk to HurtMe.” His lips quirked. “Can’t beat on him—he’d enjoy it too much.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Softhearted baby.” DeVries’s mouth went firm. “So, you were confused, but you didn’t come to me for the truth. Even worse, you didn’t give us a chance to talk about the problems of me being a sadist. That’s going to change in the future.”
What future?
She nodded.
His expression said he wasn’t buying her silent concession. “And you’re figuring there’s no future because you can’t fill my needs.”
“I can’t.”
“Lindsey.” His hands stroked her waist under the shirt. “How do you define being exclusive?” His mouth twitched. “Or, as you put it,
going steady
.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Exclusive means you don’t fuck anyone else, right?”
“Of course.”
He slid his hands under her matching latex skirt to cup her bottom before moving higher to tease the sensitive hollow above her buttocks.
Her toes curled under.
He asked, “Does doing an S/M scene with someone else violate those terms—if there’s no fucking involved?”
Flustered by the intimate knowledge he displayed of exactly where to touch her, she tried to think. “I…don’t know.”
He smiled.
“I didn’t agree.”
“No, but, pet, you’re thinking about it.” He drew her closer and nuzzled between her breasts. “If you get hot and bothered while you watch me whip a guy, I’d consider it a win all around.”
“You want me to watch?”
His eyes glinted. “Baby, if you’re in the building when I’m doing a session, I’m going to tie you up in the corner so I can keep an eye on you.”
She started to say he was insane, only remembered the caning and wand scene he’d done with johnboy. How Master Rock had been delighted deVries had given his slave what he couldn’t—and afterward had reaped the benefits.
Could she do that? “I… We can try.”
“Good.” His strong fingers massaged her bottom as a corner of his mouth tipped up. “We’ll start now.”
FUCK, HE’D MISSED having his hands on her. DeVries felt his control shredding inch by inch. But little Tex was all female, so she probably wanted to talk shit over for another hour. Had good reason, really since she’d had, hell, almost as bad a week as he’d had…though, at least, she hadn’t frozen her damned balls off.
He wasn’t going to talk now.
She’d get a lengthy chat…later. He closed his thighs to trap her between his legs long enough to yank her shirt off. Unzipped her skirt and let it drop. Sat back to enjoy the sight. “Damn, you have a gorgeous body.” And he watched her blush from her pretty little tits to her face with the compliment.
But taking her without thought to what had happened would set a bad precedent. “Now you’re dressed appropriately, kneel in front of me. Eyes down.”
Indecision wrinkled her brow. Yeah, the lack of talking had done damage. Nonetheless when he straightened slightly, she went to her knees. There it was. As a submissive, she wanted control—his control. When she’d broken them apart, they’d lost that instinctive balance.
Before clouding the issue with sex, he needed to set their D/s relationship straight. He studied her face as he considered.
She’d made decisions. He didn’t want a submissive who didn’t think for herself. Hell, no. Neither would he let one choose for them both without talking it over. She’d misstepped, and in a way he couldn’t ignore. Her arbitrary actions had almost cost them each other…and she had to know down deep he wouldn’t tolerate that again.
She had to be punished. Right now. For future mishaps, he’d have the time to figure out more appropriate punishments, but here, they needed the intimacy of sex to reforge their bonds.
First, pain to break down the barriers, followed by pleasure to bring them back together.
“I don’t want to do this,” he said resolutely. “But when you ended our relationship without discussion, you disrespected our partnership, my authority, everything we were building.”
She nodded, her lower lip between her teeth.
“To start with a clean slate, I’m going to punish you. Got any questions about why?”
Her shoulders tensed, and yet she shook her head. Her quick glance at his bag made him smile. Newer submissives worried about impact toys, never realizing a spanking could sting even worse.
“No toys, pet.” He patted his thighs. “Right here; right now.”
Her arms closed around her waist in a telling fashion. Breaking up had hurt her badly, even if she’d been the one to do it. Now her subconscious was trying to keep a distance between them.
Too bad. He wouldn’t permit any distance…which was why he wanted the intimacy of a bare-ass, bare-hand spanking. “Now.”
He’d seen snails move faster. Finally she draped herself over his knees. Hands flat on the floor, toes on the other side. Damn, she had the sweetest ass. Soft and heart shaped. “I’m sorry to have to do this, Lindsey,” he said. “I hate hurting you when you don’t enjoy it…and you’re not going to like this.”
No warm-up. No fun. He simply gripped her shoulder and started smacking her ass. Hard and fast, one cheek followed by the other. It only took a few slaps to have her squirming and kicking. She rose up, trying to use her hand to protect her butt—so he captured her wrist, pinned it in the small of her back, and continued.
She struggled harder. “Dammit, stop. I don’t like you anymore. Let me go!”
No safeword. He stopped to rub her buttocks briefly, letting her hope he was done, letting the nerves recover. And he started again.
Slap, slap, slap.
She fought to kick him. “You fucking asshole. I h-hate you!”
He closed his eyes, breathing through the pain of her words. Didn’t mean them; he knew it. Still hurt. “I’m unhappy you feel that way, babe.” He spanked her, not harder. Not softer. Seemed like forever.
She broke, her sobs filling the room, shaking her shoulders. “I’m s-s-sorry, Zander. I’m sorry.”