Sexed Into Submission (14 page)

Seventeen

Piper

The sound of someone banging on the door wakes me from my sleep. My body is drained, and it protests getting off the floor, but Ryder doesn’t make even the slightest attempt to go answer his front door. Carefully removing myself from his arms, I stand, fumble with the straps on the harness, and remove it from my blissfully defeated body. As I grab the sheet from Ryder’s bed and wrap it around me, the knocking subsides.

Scurrying downstairs to open the door, my heart leaps into my throat as Ryder’s alarm system blares into my ears. Apparently, it scared the piss out of whoever was at the door, because I see a shadow dart pass the living room window. Continuing on my way to the foyer, I see a folded white piece of paper stuck between the
cracks at the bottom of the door.

P
icking up the paper, I unfold it. “Usted no me puede resistir, Ryder. Deja de fingir que puedes.” Spanish is nowhere near as sexy written as it is spoken. I reread the note a second time and study the words, trying to recognize at least one of them, yet I remember nothing. Three years of high school Spanish taught me absolutely nothing.

The alarm is so loud I
don’t realize Ryder has come down until he cups the side of my face and reaches over my shoulder to punch in his code, finally silencing the drum shattering sirens. “Morning, beauty,” he yawns, kissing my forehead.

“
Morning. Here, I found this under the door,” I tell him, holding the note to his chest.

“What does it say?” he asks, lifting my hair from my neck to clear a spot for his warm mouth.

“I don’t know. It’s written in Spanish,” I quaver, his tongue coiling the soft hollow where my pulse beats.

“Ah, we need to work on that, mi
amor,” he whispers, licking his way up to my lips. “Let’s see,” he says, taking the paper from my hand. Furrowing his brows, he eyes the gibberish quizzically. “Ah, fuck,” he sighs, tossing his head back and crumbling the paper.

“What? What does it say?” He cups both sides of my face with his strong hands and rests his forehead onto mine. “It is nothing you need to worry about,
belleza. I promise.”

“I believe you,” I smile, clasping my fingers around the back of his neck.

“You better,” he growls, picking me up and carrying me into his kitchen. He sets me on the island counter and opens the refrigerator. “Eggs, bacon, and pancakes,” he lists, pulling contents from the fridge and pantry. He retrieves a glass bowl from the cherry oak breakfront cabinet and sets it on the counter beside me. Pulling out a drawer full of utensils, he hands me a whisk. “I’ll do the cooking, and you can do the mixing.”

Taking the whis
k from his hand, I hop down and pick up the premixed pancake batter. “I don’t mind being the mixer, but these aren’t going to cut it. Where are your spices and flour?” Half-grinning, he opens a bottom drawer, revealing a custom spice cabinet containing every spice known to man. Plucking the flour, sugar, and baking soda, I place them next to the bowl and go skim the refrigerator for buttermilk, butter, and blueberries. Once I have all my ingredients, I get to work.

“Would you like a measuring cup?” he asks, fighting to muffle his chuckles.

“I can feel you judging me, Ryder. No, I don’t need a measuring cup. I got this,” I assure him, cracking an eggshell.

“I never judge you, love.
But, if my breakfast gets ruined, I’m holding you fully responsible,” he warns, snapping the back of my ass with a dishcloth. Everyone assumes that I am high maintenance and can’t cook, but my homemade blueberry pancakes put Aunt Jemima to shame.

While Ryder fries the bacon, and scrambles our eggs, I remove the last batch of pancakes from the griddle. As I pour us each a glass of milk, he fixes ou
r plates and then joins me at the nook. Anxiously, I watch and wait for him to taste my pancakes. “Eat, beauty,” he orders.

“I will. I promise. Can you just go ahead and bite into your pancake?”

Laughing, he cuts a piece and places it inside his mouth. My leg is bouncing nervously, but I’m not sure if it’s because I want him to love or hate them. If he’s satisfied, I’ve proved him wrong. He can claim he wasn’t judging me, but he was. If he hates them, there could be a repeat of last night, and I’m ready for another round. “Mmm, belleza. Your pancakes are almost as sweet as you,” he marvels, taking in another bite.

Once I gobble down the last bit of eggs and gulp my milk, I take my plate to the sink and rinse
it. Ryder sneaks behind me and presses his front against my back as he lowers his dish into the sink. “Why the rush?” he asks, wrapping his hand around to caress my pussy. He asks me questions, but gets upset when I don’t immediately respond. How am I supposed to answer him when his touch breaks me down like a house of cards in the middle of a windstorm?

Placing my hand on top of his, I’m able to stall his movement for only a few seconds, long enough for me to reply.
“I was hoping to get a hot shower before heading to the club.” Taking his hand away from my center, he steps back and leans against the island. “Why are you being so damn stubborn, belleza? You don’t need the money. I’ve got plenty of it. Why won’t you let me take care of you?”

“Because, Ryder, that’s not thy type of woman I am.”

“What type of are you, Piper?”

Walking to him,
I rest my hands on the front of his hips. “I’m the type of woman who can’t be defined,” I whisper, showering his chest with butterfly kisses.

“I could fire you,” he advises, reminding me not only is he my owner and lover, he’s my boss.

“You could, but you won’t,” I remark, looping my tongue around and tugging one of the barbells in his nipples with my teeth.

“Wrong, my love
. I will.” Lifting my face, he lowers his lips to mine. “You go on up and shower, but tonight is your last night as a performer. You don’t want to let me care for you, fine… but you won’t be stripping. I’ll talk with Dean and we’ll find something for you to do,” he apprises, his voice stern and full of authority, letting me know this conversation isn’t up for debate.

“Will you shower with me, Ryder?”

He grins. “
Belleza, that is a question you never have to ask me.” Tossing me over his shoulder, he carries me up the stairs and we shower together.

***

“Remember, silver package, beauty. If he touches you, he’s off the fucking stage.” Before we left the house, Ryder had Dean call the guy hosting the bachelor party to inform him that I wasn’t available for the package they had requested. Actually, they tried to convince him to choose one of the other girls, but the bachelor wants me or no one at all. Dean was able to convince them to lower their package from platinum to silver. Ryder still isn’t happy about me dancing for the bachelor, but I hope once he sees me on stage, he’ll calm down.

“No touching and thong on, got it,” I smile.

“Yeah? Then why do I feel like I should shackle myself to a chair?” he says, gripping my chin and lifting my lips to his.

“You shouldn’t. Soy
todo tuyo.” I am yours is what I whisper into his mouth, and I’m praying I pronounced it correctly.

“De
hecho, eres mía,” he whispers back, kissing me tenderly.

“I still don’t understand you
.”

He chuckles. “I said, ‘indeed, you are’.
Where did you learn how to say that, belleza?”

“An app I downloaded,”
I shrug.

“What am I going to do with you?”
An open-ended question with endless answers and possibilities.

“There’s a lot you can do to me. Shall I begin naming them?” I ask, rubbing my hand up and down his hardening cock.

“Mi amor, I have no obligations here tonight but to watch you, and I can do that at home,” he growls, and I retract my hand. “Until later, belleza,” he mutters, licking up my jaw line. “I’ll be watching,” he whispers, his breath on my skin causing my nipples to instantly harden.

Once Ryder disappears through the curtain, I start getting ready for my show.
I straighten my hair and apply my shadow to give me smoky eyes. The piece I picked out for tonight is a black, faux leather collar G-string bikini set. The triangle top is silver studded, as is the strappy bottoms. The top attaches to a studded collar with metal ring trim that connects to a chain and two Velcro wrist restraints. Even though I’m entertaining the bachelor, I’m dancing for Ryder. I’ve never been collared, but when Sailor and I were together, we talked about it. I’m not sure how serious Ryder and my D/s relationship is or of he even wants to collar me, but tonight, I hope he gets the message that this is my way of pledging my loyalty.

After I’m finished prepping, I go over to grab two bottled waters and the paper Ryder trashed earlier. I’ve made it a goal to learn his language, and I figured I could start by attempting to translate the note someone left him this morning. Sitting at my station, I open the translator app on my phone and type in ‘
usted no me puede resistir. Deja de fingir que puedes’.
You can’t resist me, Ryder. Stop pretending you can.
Nothing to worry about, huh? I think not. This is definitely something that concerns me.

My chest tightens and my breathing is
labored. Fucking love. I tried it before and it was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. Why on Earth would I risk it again? Picking up one of my waters, I guzzle it down and will myself to calm down. There’s no reason to panic, because I trust Ryder. I mean, he wouldn’t lie to me. Yet, I thought the same about Sailor, and he turned out to be the devil in disguise. Ryder isn’t Sailor. He’s different; I can feel it in my heart and deep inside my soul.

Taking a few deep breaths, my breathing evens
, and the pressure in my chest fades. If Ryder says it’s nothing to worry about, then I won’t. Cracking open my second bottle of water, I take a few sips and go release my bladder before I hit the stage. No sooner than I flush the toilet, I hear Beast calling my name. Washing my hands, I go out and blindly swipe my water from my table and it splashes on my hand. Getting on my knees I skim the floor for the top to the bottle, but it’s nowhere in sight. Fuck it. It’ll be drained as soon as I finish my set.

“Piper, you’re up
, girl. Come on,” Beast urges, lifting the curtain and waving for me to come on stage. Instead of the lights dimming, as they usually do, they remain bright and one of our guys passes me a microphone. “Bachelor’s name is Wes, he’s sitting up front to the left,” he tells me.

“Thank you.”

Walking the circumference of the stage, I twirl the cord hanging from the cone of the microphone and seductively skim the front rows for Mr. Bachelor himself. “So, I hear we have a bachelor here tonight,” I speak into the microphone, watching the men’s faces closely. When I see a handsome young man grin and rub his hands together, I know I’ve found Wes.

I walk to
the side of the stage and Beast takes my hand to help me down the steps. As I make my way toward Wes, I run my nails across each member’s neck or shoulders. When I get to my destination, I wrap my arm around my bachelor’s neck and climb onto his lap. “Well, ladies and gents, would you look at the smile on this handsome man’s face. Looks like I found me a bachelor.” Loud applauses and whistles travel through the lounge, and I feel Mr. Wes’ crotch begin to rise under my ass. Standing from his lap, I tug his tie and bend at my waist to bring my face close to his. “Tell me, sir, are you my bachelor?” I ask, holding the mic to his lips. “Yes,” he confirms.

“Come with me,” I instruct, pulling his tie and leading him up on stage.
Beast brings out a chair and sets in on front of the pole. Looking up to the DJ booth, I nod to let Dean know I’m ready for the music. When a bachelor pays for a package, they get to choose the music. The beat that plays is an interesting choice, “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage the Elephant. The lyrics aren’t anything I’d ever imagine stripping to, but the beat is great and I work with it. Before I make him sit, I pull him to me and unknot his tie. Then, I push him back into the chair as I pull the tie from his collar.

Placing my hands on his thighs, I make sexy eye contact and then look down at my body. Like
all men, his eyes follow mine. Casually, I strut around the chair and work my hips with the beat of the music. Stopping to stand behind his back, I bring his wrists together and restrain them with his own tie. Then, I caress his shoulder and snake down to the floor. Crawling around to the front of the chair, I stand and lower myself onto his lap. Wrapping my legs around the chair and my arms around his neck, I move my body against his and bring my face so close to his our lips almost touch. Suddenly, I pull my face back, bend back, and backflip onto the floor between his legs.

Standing back up, I rest my hands on his knees and work my body down until my face is at his stomach.
Wes watches me as if no one else is around, eyeing me how kids eye candy. Moving my hips from side to side, I make my way up and lift my arms over my head. Seductively swirling my hips, I begin to turn in a circle. When I’m facing the crowd, I search the lounge for Ryder. When I find him, rage consumes me from head to toe. He’s standing by the doors with a dark haired woman grinding her hands along the front of his body. He doesn’t look happy, but he isn’t pushing her away. What a beautiful fucking liar he is. After all he did to get me to confess my love for him, after he told me he loved me, he’s fucking someone else? Conniving dick. Although I’m livid, I put a smile on my face and decide to get even.