Mutual Release (5 page)

“You like that, don’t you,” he muttered as he did it again, trying not to come without even getting inside her.

She nodded, her breathing ragged.

He tugged her hair. “Words, Rachel. Remember? I can’t read your mind.”

“Yes, Evan. Please, do it again. Do it while you fuck me.”

“Hmmm…” He reached deep, grasping his inner control. This was what he needed. “Maybe…” He trailed his fingers down her back, then spanked her twice more, wishing he could see how red her skin was getting. With the third smack he couldn’t take it another second and shoved his cock into the warm glove of her body. It was familiar, being the only one he’d ever experienced, but somehow different this time. Her hips moved and he gripped them, but still holding back his climax. His brain felt like it was on fire. Every inch of his skin burned as his body approached something monumental.

Then, finally, as the blinding little death was about to explode behind his eyes, he pulled her up from the mats, put his entire palm against her sex, using a finger to coax the hovering orgasm from her. And that, the exquisite contraction of her release along his length – that was pure, unexplainable ecstasy. He let it happen and held on tight, shuddering and coming for what felt like an hour.

Then, she cried. That was one thing he would always remember. After the amazing moment of perfection, she kept shaking until he realized what was happening. Guilt flooded across his brain. He pulled out of her and sat, holding her in his lap, kissing her lips, cheeks, and hair as he released her wrists. The soothing noises he made, the deep, dark satisfaction he felt came from somewhere, but he didn’t stop to analyze it. He just went with what felt natural – comfort and reassurance, holding her close as her breathing finally calmed and she turned her face up to his.

“Damn.” She snuggled close. “That was amazing. I could get addicted to it.”

He smiled, keeping his arms around her. “Yeah.” He kissed her hair. “You okay now?”

She stood, found her shorts and shirt and wiggled back into them. He tugged off the condom, wrapped it in a paper towel, and tossed it in the closest garbage bin. “Guess we should rejoin the party, huh?”

She jumped into his arms, startling him as he attempted to get his clothes back together. “No, let me stay here forever.”

“Oh, well, that’s probably not practical.” His body was limp, loose, but as her grip tightened around him Evan’s brain started to fog over. A small lick of fear and dread teased him.
What now, huh, smart guy? How did this little episode help you cope with the shit-heap of your life?
“C’mon.”

He put her back on the floor, brushed her lips with his. Acknowledging his heart was completely disengaged from this process, that it was more about a need to prove to himself that he was not lame, he had needs that were more specific than the usual, he sighed and pointed her towards the door. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than space, to be away from her annoyingly clingy aura. He shook his head at himself. Since when did he even
think
a word like “aura?”

“Let’s get out of here before we get caught.” That did it. Her innate never-leaving-high-school female brain clicked in. She ran a hand through her hair, straightened her shirt, and shot him a look that made him realize he never wanted to touch her again.

By the time they’d snuck back in to join the crowd, it was after midnight. Rachel ran off to find her friends, leaving him relieved he didn’t have to cope with her anymore while berating himself for feeling that way. He shook his head, came face-to-face with a new reality about himself, and ran literally and figuratively smack into his nemesis.

“So… mate.” Damian stood, holding one of the goofy cups from the juice bar. He sipped, staring at Evan, his eyes shining with a scary sort of knowledge. “I think you might be ready now.”

Evan shouldered past him, determined to ignore whatever the guy was going to say but knowing he could not. Not now, when he’d dipped his toe into that kink pool. Now he wanted to dive into its totality. Badly. But he looked down at the hand Damian had on his upper arm. “Let go of me.” He stared at Damian, determined to move past these raw, base urges, to deny every signal his body and brain were sending him.

“You have no idea what you’re missing.” Damian’s voice stayed low, conversational. “I think you should let me show you.” But he stepped back, kept his distance.

“Do you?” Evan adjusted his shirt, ran fingers through his sweaty hair, tried to cover his extreme nervousness. “I doubt it.”

Damian’s chuckle sent a bolt of anxiety through him. “Oh, I think you know I do. Let’s finish this lame-ass charade of a parent-administered party. Tomorrow night we will discover something new. You have no idea what you’re missing, Evan. Yet.”

Evan shuddered as Damian walked away, knowing he’d turned a corner, one he’d have a tough time reversing. He had tasted the power. And knew Damian held the key to the Pandora’s box he’d been toying with for so long, turning it over in his hands, until tonight when he’d peeked inside and located what he’d been craving. That key to the particular fetish he’d sampled was one his enemy grasped close to his heart.

He did want more. So he followed Damian’s retreating back, grabbing and downing the cup of vodka someone held out to him.

Chapter Five

The summer began, but Evan barely noticed. A dark hole had widened, but he no longer teetered on the edge. He’d jumped in with both feet, immersed himself, and every morning swore he’d stop; but by the time he’d staggered home from his summer job each day, his skin crawled with need. A need that had found an outlet, thanks to Damian, nearly every night at a makeshift BDSM club near downtown Detroit.

The forty-hour-a-week warehouse job helped. It focused his mind, working so hard for nearly eight hours straight. Of course, the fact his nemesis and dealer of his drug of choice, worked with him – or pretended to work – riled him no end. But his father had procured the jobs, which meant Damian had to be included.

“Evan!” A voice echoed through the giant expanse of concrete and cardboard, a distinctly female one. One he’d been trying to ignore for a few weeks. “Where in the hell…?”

He winced and stepped into her line of sight when he heard the click-clack of heels on the concrete floor. The stacks of beer and wine loomed around them as he watched her approach. The tall, slender woman was sales manager for the large distributor and had lately decided to exert an annoying level of control over inventory. Which put her in direct contact with the back-of-the-house staff, and that made Evan a nervous wreck every time she was around.

“Yes, Caroline?” He pulled his gloves off and leaned on the nearest stack of nameless California wine, attempting to arrange his face into something resembling non-ogling.

She stopped about a foot from him and crossed her arms over her silk-clad chest. Evan forced himself to keep gazing into her eyes and not let his eyes crawl up and down the hottest female form he’d yet encountered in his eighteen years. It was good practice, he convinced himself. Besides, he’d checked her out plenty. He had every inch of her five-foot-six power-suited frame memorized. It fueled every fantasy he sustained lately during the sessions of power he exerted over complete strangers at the club.

“Listen, Evan, I need your help with this. No one else will listen to me.” She glanced down at the spreadsheet that seemed permanently attached to her well-manicured hand. “I need more reliable reporting from back here, you know?” She looked up at him, brushing a strand of long blond hair out of her eyes.

He tried not to stumble when he took the report from her.
Goddamn, Adams… get a grip.
But she was too close. And when he sucked in a breath, not realizing his mistake until it was too late, he leapt back from her, embarrassed.

Her eyes darkened, and the chemistry in the room shifted, making him stand up straighter. “Uh, sure, okay. So how can I help?” He looked at the rows of numbers and it all clicked into place for him then. He glanced at her. She took a full step away as if intimidated, or shocked. And Evan knew damn good and well nothing set this woman back on her heels. He put a hand on her arm, relishing the spark that passed between them.

* * * *

An hour or so later, she sat at the conference room table creating a new inventory system that would allow her to increase sales of their budding beer business, with Evan at her shoulder. It had been fun sorting through the dilemma together. His brain ran to organization anyway, so it didn’t take him long to figure it out. He’d used the excuse of being as confounded by it as she was to stay close, taking in deep breaths of her intoxicating combination of perfume and ever-increasing spice – a scent he’d spent the last few weeks identifying during his forays to BDSM lifestyle parties. He clenched his knees under the table, used his newfound control skills to keep his body from reacting to her, yet still maintaining what he believed passed as useful workplace conversation.

At one point she glanced up at him, away from the screen. He was leaning over her, pretending to study the numbers while raking his gaze across the tops of her breasts. They were not that big, which didn’t do much for him, but had a dusting of freckles across them. And that black bra… He licked his lips, right when she turned her face to his.

“So, this algorithm here…” She had one short, dark-painted nail on the screen. “It’s… Uh, hello? My face is up here.”

He shivered, realizing he’d let himself get caught. Anger made him take a step back, run a hand down his rough jaw. She turned to face him and crossed her bare legs slowly. At that moment he knew – as much as he needed to run his tongue over those freckles, she wanted him to do exactly that. She opened her mouth to speak and he sensed himself slipping, losing control, so he reached deep for discipline and decided that getting out of her space was the only possible solution.

“Uh, sorry.” He turned, bumped his shoulder against the doorway in his haste to escape from the ramped-up need that emanated from her like a visible cloud.

Stumbling back to his comfort zone amongst the cardboard, his face burned as he commanded himself to be calm. Good practice but painful to be sure. He flopped down on a stack of boxes, heart pounding, mouth dry, and forced the memory of her long legs off his brain where they seemed fairly permanently imprinted.
Mistake, Adams. Don’t go there. She is your boss; she is probably ten years older than you and hotter than any woman has a right to be.
He looked up at the tall ceiling and took a breath. The clear and somewhat disturbing image of the lovely Caroline on her knees in front of him floated through his lust-addled consciousness: her wrists would be bound, mouth gagged, eyes covered as he walked around her holding his current favorite implement – the butter-soft and effective leather flogger.

Shit. He had to get out of here, now.

But the second he stood, he smelled her again and felt the familiar rush of desire, anger, and purpose. He squared his shoulders and turned, his best smile fixed in place. The hesitant, confused, but needy look on her model-perfect face made him take a single step towards her and yank her close, as the black hole yawned, sucking him and his new conquest into its maw.

Her low voice oozed into his brain. “I know what you want.” She was utter perfection, pressing her body along his, threading her fingers in his hair. He let her walk him a few steps back, behind the taller stacks of inventory they’d just been analyzing.

His head spun for a second until a strange calm settled over him, reminding him of what he had to do. She needed something from him, and he would give it, not at her command but at his. He kept his movements slow, steady, and unthreatening, but black tendrils of lust were coiling at the base of his brain, comforting him now that he had a slightly better handle on how to use them. He bumped against the concrete block wall, still silent, letting her make all the noise while he concentrated very hard on maintaining control. Her lips made their way along his jaw line, down his neck, and her hands trailed down his t-shirt clad torso, one of them coming to rest along his zipper. She made a satisfied sound down in her throat, until he gripped her arms and pushed her away.

“What?” She pouted, running a hand through her hair and looking right at his crotch. “C’mon, baby…” She reached out to touch his chest again but he grabbed her wrist, yanked her close and whispered in her ear.

“I know what you want, Caroline.” He paused. “But we are gonna do this my way or no way at all. Got it?”

She nodded, shivering when he bit down on her earlobe then nibbled his way around to her full lips. Practice, that’s exactly what this was and what he needed. Time spent honing his technique, pushing himself ever further as he explored how strong he could be, how much he could please his partner while resisting his own natural impulse to just fuck and be done.

“Evan,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and molding into him once more. He stopped just as he was about to kiss her – to finally taste what had tempted him from day one. Gripping her arms again, he disentangled and held her off. His entire body was on fire, but his mind was still, and he allowed himself a second of self-satisfaction. He was learning control, thanks to the girls and women at the small club. And, he hated to admit, thanks to Damian who’d taken him there in the first place.