Beyond Pain (28 page)

Don't stop.
He didn't realize he said the words aloud until he heard the harsh grind of his own voice. It brought some things rushing back into sharp focus--the bite of leather around his hands, his unsteady breathing--

And Six.

He opened his eyes. She'd kicked free of her pants at some point and was curled inside the blanket, watching him with flushed cheeks and parted lips. When her gaze locked with his, heat greeted him, heat and wonder and need.

She wet her lips and shifted to her knees, ignoring how it made the blanket gape wide. "Can I touch you like you touched me?"

The lash at his back, and her mouth-- "Get over here."

Her eyes sparked with something fierce as she rose and stalked to him, utterly naked and not the least bit vulnerable. She stopped so close she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, but she didn't touch him.

She waited.

If she had her way, she'd already have her hands on him--he could see it in every trembling line of her body, in the way her hands flexed at her sides.

But she didn't have her way. She had
his
.

"Suck my cock," he rasped. "I want to fuck your face before I fuck your pussy."

Six folded her knees, sinking to the floor without looking away. Her hand came up, fingers curling hot and firm around his shaft, and she stroked him once before leaning in until her breath shivered across his cock.

"You dirty fucker," she murmured, the words hoarse with approval.

Then she sucked him into her mouth.

His head swam with dizzy pleasure that redoubled when the flogger whistled through the air again. He'd had just enough time to settle, for the nerves in his skin to stop singing, but the sharp strike of leather brought them roaring back to life.

Six drew him deeper, slowly at first, but as Ace resumed his pace she began to match it, sucking hard in the stinging aftermath of a strike, watching his face as if riveted by his reaction.

Arching away from the wicked leather tails thrust him farther into her mouth, harder. The first time she gagged, the sound twisted up with the pain and the pleasure and the
moment
, jolting through him like a shock. She'd asked for this, watched Dallas choke Rachel with his cock and begged for the same damn thing.

He couldn't hold the back of her head, but he leaned into the thrust, lingering instead of drawing back. She pushed into him, gagged again, and only then asked for respite with a soft brush of her fingers against his hip.

It sent him spinning, that single, gentle touch, and Bren groaned as the heat and pain melted into something else entirely, something warm and vague. It crashed over him like a storm, loud thunder and gusts of sensation that threatened to blow him off his feet.

Enough.
This time, he couldn't hear the word through the pounding in his ears, wasn't sure he'd managed to say it at all.

But Ace knew. The flogging stopped, and he spoke a moment later, quiet words Bren barely registered. "Give him a few seconds. He doesn't like to go too far up."

Her touch vanished, only to return as a warm cheek pressed against his hip.

Bren let go of one end of his belt. It slithered off the frame, and he swayed at the sudden release of the tension in his arms, his body. Ace and Six both steadied him as he drew in one deep, bracing breath after another.

Ace murmured something else, and Six wrapped both arms around Bren. Wood scraped across the carpet, and one of the padded benches bumped the backs of his legs. "Sit," Ace advised, managing to make it sound like a suggestion instead of an outright order.

"Too wobbly," Bren muttered, then laughed and dropped to the bench. Of course he was--weak as a newborn, shaking like a leaf. He'd taken it too far and almost slipped into the gray haze beyond pain.

"Wobbly, but still amazing." Six's fingers smoothed over his forehead, brushing his hair back. "You're better than pretty. You're...everything."

"I can't stand up straight."

"I know." She laughed and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "That's why I'm being all mushy, Donnelly. You better enjoy it."

A little high on endorphins, maybe, but not helpless. He drew her down across his lap, smiling when his erection nudged her hip. "I enjoy it. But I'm not done with you yet."

Her breathing hitched as she pressed her forehead to his. "You mean getting me off a million times wasn't enough for you?"

The truth was stark, blunt--and there was no going back from it. "It'll never be enough."

She stilled, silent for long enough for his head to clear. Her lips parted, and she whispered two words, soft and shy, like an offering. "Me too."

Her mouth was hot and open beneath his, and he fell into kissing her. Even when Ace touched him again, smoothing cool gel over his back and shoulders, Bren took his time lifting his head.

"I can stick around for a while if you need me," Ace offered as he finished his work. "You were pretty cranked up, brother."

The dazed rush had already begun to fade. "It's all right." Bren turned his head to meet the other man's gaze. "I'm solid now."

They both understood the rules, but this was one where Ace was unwavering and more than willing to overrule Bren. The artist studied him in silence before nodding abruptly. "If you need anything, I'll be in my studio."

Presumably after he'd made a detour to take care of his sexual frustration. "I owe you one, man."

"Not even a little." Ace winked at Six. "It was our pleasure, wasn't it, fighter-girl?"

She refused to laugh it off. Her voice still husky, she said, "We both owe you one."

Ace snorted and shook his head. "Have fun, you two." The door slammed behind him.

Bren rose, Six still in his arms, and crossed to lock the door again. "Did we answer your questions tonight, sweetness?"

"A lot of them." She locked her ankles at the small of his back and hissed in a breath as his cock ground against her pussy. "My flogging didn't really
hurt
, but I don't know if I'd have wanted it much harder. But for you..." She tilted her head back to look at him. "Do you really think Ace would teach me?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Then I'll learn." Her legs tightened as she lifted herself high enough to catch his mouth in a quick kiss. "I mean, I'll suck you off while he's beating you if that's your favorite thing, but I'm a possessive bitch. I want to be the one who makes you wobbly."

She already did, with every smile and wondering touch. "You might find out that you like it."

"Of course I will. It'll get you off." Her mouth found his ear. "And I'll look badass with a whip."

"Smartass."

She laughed and bit his ear. With his entire body sensitized, the nip made him shudder, and he gripped her hips harder. The sharp edges of her teeth vanished, replaced by the soft press of lips. "Will you bend me over something and fuck me already?"

Flippant words, but there was a very real plea behind them. So Bren stopped by the end of the couch and let her slide slowly down his body until her feet hit the floor. As soon as they did, he turned her and bent her upper body over the padded arm.

She went up on her toes, nudging his erection with a groan. "You've got too damn much self-control."

He bent over her before answering, sliding his cock against the small of her back. "You love it."

That earned him a snarl as she slammed her head back into his shoulder. "Do not."

He shifted his hips so that his cock slid between her legs this time, against the slick heat of her pussy. "Feels like you do."

"
Bren.
"

It was worth waiting to hear that desperate edge in her voice. "Yeah? You want something?"

She panted and let her head fall forward, baring the back of her neck as her hair swung down to shield her expression. "I'm the one who's already gotten off. I can outlast you."

Maybe she was right--but he didn't have all that self-control for nothing. "You might," he allowed in a rumble, then licked a path up the delicate line of her spine, from her shoulder blades to the base of her neck.

Her whole body was shaking by the time his tongue swiped across her vulnerable nape, but she dug her fingernails into the couch and fought back with words. "I know how turned on you are. I had your cock in my mouth, in my fucking throat. Tell me you weren't thinking about grabbing the back of my head and making me swallow all of you."

"Dirty words, sweetness." Her hair was soft and heavy as he wrapped it around his hand, and he relished the stifled moan that vibrated in the back of her throat when he jerked her head back. "I was hard before that, when you were coming on my fingers. I can wait."

She sucked in an unsteady breath. Another. A shudder, and the tension melted from her body as she closed her eyes. "Make me feel good?"

He guided his cock until the head barely pushed between the inner lips of her pussy. "It won't be soft or easy."

"Nothing good ever is."

Soft and easy. That wasn't him, and he was starting to understand that it wasn't
her
, either. She didn't need it, only him. Like this.

He plunged into her, releasing her hair to grip her hips instead. She moaned her approval and pushed back, never passive even after she'd given in. "Like this," she said hoarsely. "Rough. I'm not fragile, damn it."

"Shh." One more kiss to the center of her back, just under the shallow network of scars that crisscrossed her skin, and he straightened. Her hips arched in his hands, enough delicious friction to send shivers through them both.

And her voice came, soft and shaking. "Please."

Slow and deep, every thrust harder than the last. The rhythm did little to distract him from her choked noises, especially when they grew into moans, into pleas. Pleas to make her feel good, to make her feel
everything
.

But she didn't fight his grip. She didn't ask for more or faster or rougher, even though he knew she wanted it.

She gave him something far more fragile than her body. Her trust.

So he sped his thrusts, his hips slapping against her ass, and let his own words come. "Take it deep, baby. So fucking deep."

She grabbed on to the back of the couch, gripping hard to brace herself, to make it easier for him to drive home. "I can--" She moaned with his next thrust, throwing her head back. "I can take more."

He caught her shoulders in an iron grip, arching her back. "Harder?"

"Yes.
Always.
"

His next pounding thrust drove her feet off the floor, and she moaned his name as her pussy clenched. "Only once," she gasped. "I can't--God, I don't know if I can--"

"You can," he ground out between gritted teeth. "You will."

And she did, even though he had to ride her G-spot hard to get her there. After an endless climb, she slammed into orgasm, gasping his name again and again in a raw voice almost as impossible to ignore as the tight clasp of her pussy.

It went on and on, until nothing could have kept him from coming. The helpless clutch of her inner muscles dragged him straight up to that trembling edge, and one last desperate plunge sent him tumbling over it. He pulled her to him, an arm locked across her chest, as they shuddered together.

She stilled long before she spoke. "Are my feet on the floor? I can't tell."

Bren couldn't tell where his
own
goddamn feet were. He loosened his grip, and she slid down his body. "Better?"

"I don't know." She exhaled shakily. "I think you turned me into a sex junkie or something. Fucking
hell
."

A far cry from the first time, when she'd insisted she didn't need to come and it probably wouldn't happen, anyway. "This is Sector Four, sweetness. No such thing as too much sex."

"So you say now." She tilted her head back enough to grin at him. "Think you can keep up with me, old man?"

She'd spent her first night in the sector chained to a chair, and nearly every night since in varying stages of fear and healing. Now, here she was, open and trusting--

His.

Bren returned her grin, lazy and confident. "Don't worry. I've got a few secrets left. I might surprise you."

Just like she'd surprised him.

Emma had painted her ceiling blue.

Ace tucked a hand behind his head and studied it as he listened to her crash around in her bathroom. "When'd you have time to decorate, junior?"

"When?" She emerged, still naked, and grabbed a half-empty bottle of whiskey on her way back to the bed. "First chance I got. The color helps me sleep."

It wasn't a bad choice. Not ultramarine or navy, but a little more vibrant than denim. Cobalt, maybe, though God knew the colors you could get now weren't anything like the pre-Flare bounty. The mouth-breathers slogging away in Sector Eight's factories wouldn't know cyan from cerulean, and the snobs in Eden contented themselves with art made from pixels and code.

Emma sank onto the mattress, and he shifted to give her space. "It's nice. Where'd you get the paint? Walt's place?"

"Yeah. He likes to pretend he's a hard-ass, but he's fair enough with his prices."

Ace lifted her wrist with his free hand and admired the cuff he'd laid there barely a month ago. "This doesn't hurt," he reminded her, rubbing his thumb along the intricate framing. He'd been plenty smug the day he'd tattooed it onto her skin, pleased that he'd finally talked her into signing on as his apprentice, pleased he'd avoided having Cruz flatten his face in the cage, and
really
damn pleased that Lex and Dallas had worked out their shit.

Everything had been looking up.

Emma turned her wrist--and wrapped her fingers around his. "What's wrong, Ace?"

"Not a goddamn thing," he replied easily. "I just got a dirty-hot show followed by an enthusiastic fuck, and you brought me whiskey in bed."

"Liar." She uncapped the bottle and took a drink before offering it to him. "You heard the rumors, I guess."

His gut tightened, and he almost told her he didn't want to know. It didn't matter that he'd had some hazy, half-cocked plan to throw Cruz and Rachel back together. That had fizzled the second he'd walked into the storeroom and seen them--