Club Helix: The Power Games (23 page)

She looks down, toying with the napkin still in her lap. “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” she admits in a small voice. “I probably overreacted during the last scene because the thing is…” She trails off, looks out the window, takes a deep breath, and then turns her gaze back to me. “The thing is…” She glances down again.

“Dammit, Ava, what?” I growl. “Whatever it is that you’re afraid to tell me, we’ll deal with it. Did I hit some psychological trigger?” My voice hardens. “Are you involved with Emmett?”

She shakes her head. If it’s not either of those things, surely it can’t be that bad.

“Are you some kind of undercover agent?” I tease, trying to alleviate the misery in her eyes.

“Worse,” she whispers. “I’m a virgin.”

She couldn’t have rendered me more speechless. I stare at her, completely stunned by her revelation as my mind tries to process the impossibility of what she’s saying. I have never met a woman as responsive as Ava, or one who comes as hard or as honestly as she does. She certainly doesn’t act like someone who’s never had sex before. But Emmett’s words echo in my mind.
“Ava isn’t like the other submissives. Just because something appears to be a certain way doesn’t mean that’s how it is.”
Things slowly click into place—her disarming innocence, her inexperience, how easily she’s embarrassed, how tight she is even with just my finger inside her, her hurt and anger at being forced to bring herself to orgasm in front of a crowd of cheering strangers.

Fuck. Emmett’s right; I’m a complete bastard.

“Christ, Ava!” I get to my feet and pace in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the Strip. I turn back to her and say angrily, “Why didn’t you tell me? It seems like that would have been important to mention.” Dammit, how could she have not told me this before?

“Well, I did put intercourse as a hard limit,” she says slightly indignantly.

God. The things I’ve done to her! The clamps, the crop, the plug… Her words right before I helped her onto the saddle come back to haunt me.
“I don’t want to do this.”
But I’d made her do it anyway, thinking it was just typical submissive nervousness. But my anger at myself isn’t doing either one of us any good. I take a deep breath and sit down on the love seat next to her, enveloping her hands in mine.

“I’m sorry, Ava. I didn’t know, or I never would have put you on that saddle.”

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “I know you didn’t know. Besides, what were you going to do? Sign me up as a saloon girl instead?” She smiles wanly.

I’m still having trouble processing that she’s a virgin. It seems so improbable. “You’ve really never made love? Never had a man inside you?” I clarify.

She shakes her head, blushing.

“How is that even possible?” I ask incredulously. “You’re twenty-two years old. You’re absolutely beautiful. How has some boy not stolen your heart?”

“Because my heart has never been up for grabs. And no one really interested me until…” She trails off, averting her gaze. I bring it back with a firm finger under her chin.

“Until what?” I press.

“Until you,” she whispers.

Well, damn. Her confession sucks the air out of my lungs. I sit back, pure male satisfaction puffing my chest out and making me grin like an idiot.

But the fact remains that I fucked up. As her Dom, I was supposed to protect her, and I failed utterly. Even though she hasn’t been completely honest with me, I should have read her body language, listened to her when she told me she didn’t want to participate. Of course, that’s what her safe word is for. I run my fingers through my hair distractedly. Granted, a submissive using her safe word on this show has much more significant ramifications than using it during a regular scene; safe-wording here gets you voted off. Still, she could have—no, she should have given me a heads-up she was close to her limit.

“Why didn’t you say
yellow
?” I demand.

She looks at me blankly.

“Before the scene Friday night,” I prompt. “If you didn’t want to use your safe word because it would have meant we’d be off the show, why didn’t you at least say
yellow
so we could have stopped and talked about it? I have a responsibility as the Dominant to take control, but you have a responsibility as the submissive to say
stop
or at least
slow down
if you’re pushed too far.”

She shrugs. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“How could you not know?” I demand disbelievingly.

“Well, there’s something else I should probably tell you,” she says reluctantly.

I look at her expectantly, waiting. She flushes under my scrutiny.

“I’m not a submissive.”

I stare at her uncomprehendingly, although I suppose I should have seen that coming. After all, she just told me she’s a complete innocent.

“I’ve never done any of this before,” she says in a rush, as if she has to get it all out as soon as possible before she loses her nerve. “Emmett’s a Dom, but you were right. He isn’t my Dom. He got accepted on the show, and I’d just lost my apartment and my summer internship, and I had no money and no place to live, and I didn’t know what I was going to do. So he signed me up to come on the show with him. We thought we’d be able to compete as a team, and I could just fake it. I’m not really submissive.”

“I’ll have to disagree with you there, sweetheart,” I say with a small smile. “You are definitely submissive, whether you realize it or not.”

She’s looking at me with confusion and denial in her expressive green eyes. “No, I’m not!” she insists. “It’s why I freaked out on the saddle.”

“You freaked out in the saddle because I left you up there alone, and we hadn’t built our relationship to the point where you trusted me to know what you could handle or to the point where your desire to please me superseded your own discomfort. That has to be earned, particularly since you’re so new to this, and it was my fault for not seeing that.”

She’s still looking at me in disbelief. I take her wrists in one hand, holding her still. I slowly circle her breast with my other hand, smiling at her sharp intake of breath. “But you like it when I restrain you, and you get aroused when I play with you and there’s nothing you can do about it.” It’s a statement, not a question, and she doesn’t deny it. I lazily trail my finger up the valley of her breasts to lightly circle her throat. “You like being under my control and at the mercy of my imagination. You crave what I can give you. For all the barricades you’ve built around yourself, you like being exposed and vulnerable to me, helpless to stop me from taking what I want and giving you what you need.” Her pulse beats wildly beneath my hand, but she doesn’t say anything.

I move my hand to her lips, my fingers gently prying her jaw open so I can slip my thumb into her mouth, pressing it against her tongue. Her lips close over my thumb automatically as she sucks. “You want to give in to me, to give me what I demand.” Her eyes bore into mine. “You have a taste for being dominated, Avalon,” I rasp.

I pull my thumb from the silky heat of her mouth and sigh. “But you don’t belong here. It’s probably for the best that we’ll most likely get voted off tomorrow.”

“Then make love to me tonight,” she says.

I stare at her incredulously.

“You want me. You told me you did the night of the striptease,” she presses, her voice tremulous. “Were you telling me the truth?”

“Jesus, Ava, of course I was. I’m a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. I meant every word I said. I’ve never wanted anything more than to sink myself into you and make you come a thousand times and a thousand ways. I did then, and I do now.”

“Then—”

I interrupt her. “But I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not. I’m asking you. Begging you if I have to. I want this, Roman. More than I’ve ever wanted anything before. Tomorrow we’ll go our separate ways. I’ll go back to my life, and you’ll go back to yours.” Her hands are featherlight on my chest, distracting me. “Please. Give me this one night.”

I CAN TELL the precise moment that Roman decides to give me what I’m asking for. His eyes darken with heated dominance, and before I can fully process what’s happening, the floor falls away, and I’m in his arms as he carries me into the bedroom and lays me down on the big four-poster bed, the hard length of his body braced over mine.

“Be sure you want this,” he warns. “I won’t ask you again.”

“I’m sure. I want this,” I say breathlessly. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I hadn’t particularly been saving myself for any specific reason; the hold I’ve kept on my virginity has been more a result of lack of opportunity and interest than anything else, but I suddenly want nothing more than to give myself to Roman. When I go back to my life of numb survival tomorrow, at least I’ll have this night with the man who broke through my walls and made me feel things I’d never dreamed of.

Except my heart is thumping, and I’m shaking. This is it. I’ve never been more excited, or more nervous.

In one fluid movement, he pulls off the T-shirt he’s wearing and tosses it onto a chair. He is magnificently, heart-stoppingly beautiful. His dark hair is disheveled, his jaw firm, his gray-blue eyes blazing with conquest. And his chest and abs! There simply aren’t words. My mouth goes dry at the spectacular sight of his muscles that look like they’ve been carved in granite by the gods and polished with stars.

I inhale sharply as he sinks down on the bed next to me, tugging the oversize T-shirt I’m wearing over my head as his eyes feast on my naked breasts.

“You are breathtaking,” he whispers. “A moon goddess who lost her way and somehow tumbled into my bed.”

My lips part as his mouth descends on mine. He kisses me gently, his tongue licking over my lips softly before dipping inside, tasting me unhurriedly, and then curling up to lick some more. I sigh with pleasure. I love kissing Roman; I could do this all night. When his tongue dips in again, I take it hungrily, sucking him into my mouth with an intensity that’s been building in me since the night of the striptease. I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as he deepens the kiss.

He breaks the kiss and trails little butterfly kisses down the column of my neck and over my chest. He palms one breast as he takes the other stiff peak into his mouth and sucks it, sending a tug of pleasure rippling through my entire body. His fingers surround one rigid tip, and he twists, smiling as I jolt at the white-hot heat that sears straight to my core. He toys with my nipple, plucking and tugging and tweaking as he nips and sucks my other breast until I’m thrashing beneath him, frantic for more. My body strains toward him, aching for him to quench the fire that he set in my veins.

“The things I’m going to do to you,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down my stomach. His tongue circles my navel, and my muscles contract helplessly.

“I do like the things you do to me,” I agree in a strangled voice as his lips continue their exploration. He takes his time, tasting and kissing every inch of my chest and torso, traveling languidly over the blade of my hip bone and across the quivering plane of my pelvis. My back arches as his mouth latches on to my sex. He grips my hips firmly with both hands as his tongue spears into me, making me groan.

“Roman,” I moan, my fingers tangling in his hair as his tongue finds my clit and strokes it lazily.

“I love the smell of you,” he says, his thumbs spreading me so he can torture me more deliberately. He flicks against the hardened nub that’s now openly exposed. “Almost as much as I love how you taste.”

I’m not sure whether his words or his tongue is going to make me come first. His hands cup my buttocks, tilting my hips up to him so he can devour me more. My core aches as he drives me higher, his tongue alternately brushing my sensitive clit and piercing into me. My legs stiffen, and my thighs clench with the growing pressure of the orgasm that’s beginning to build. I start to whimper, and his mouth leaves my cleft.

“No!” I protest, my hips still bucking toward him. “Please.”

I don’t want him to stop. I want more.

“This time you’re going to come around my cock.”

My frustration immediately recedes. Yes. I want that! His guttural words incite me even more, and I’m desperate to know what he feels like inside me. He nips at my breast and then my jaw before pressing a kiss to my lips, and I can taste myself on him.

He slowly stands and unfastens his pants, methodically pulling them off as I watch with fascination. His cock springs free—thick, impossibly hard, and throbbing, and I lick my lips. He grabs a condom from the nightstand and quickly sheathes himself before sinking back down next to me, his mouth crushing mine as the stiff length of him presses against my belly. I glance down nervously, wondering how he’s going to fit. His cock is so big that when laid against me, it touches my belly button. He distracts me by kissing me thoroughly, cupping my breast, and when we finally come up for air, the tip of his cock is resting at my entrance. I wrap my arms around his hard shoulders and pull him to me, wordlessly willing him to give me what I want.

I bite my lip as the broad head of his shaft pushes into me. It’s massive, and I gasp at the sharp pain of his invasion. His cock stretches me, filling me completely, and I groan at the exquisite feel of him.

“You’re so fucking tight, Avalon.”

I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but given the carnal look in his glittering eyes that have darkened to a deep blue, I’m going to go with good.

He holds himself motionless, letting my body adjust to the thick, pulsing presence of him buried inside me. He slowly penetrates me, easing out with exquisite control and then slowly pushing back in again and again, going deeper each time until he’s fully sheathed in me, my tight channel fully encompassing his thick girth.

He threads his fingers in my hair, holding me still as he looks into my eyes.

“Okay?”

“More than okay,” I murmur. I love the hard, silky feel of his cock piercing me so intimately.

Some primitive instinct takes over, and I grind my pelvis against him in silent entreaty. He groans and captures my mouth, absorbing my cries as he thrusts into me. We kiss with impassioned need, our tongues tangling together as our breath becomes ragged. Pinning my body with his, he moves in and out of me, the thrust of his hips matching the erotic thrust of his tongue in my mouth, simultaneously stroking me in both places until I’m frantic with need. He sets an agonizingly slow pace, each deep stab of his cock driving me higher and higher, inching me closer and closer to the brink of some sweet insanity. My hips rise and fall as he pumps into me, urging him on; I want to take all of him. His skin glimmers with a thin sheen of sweat, and his breath is coming in labored pants, belying the steel-clad control of his movements.