Crave (3 page)

***

Ryder knelt in the submissive position anticipating the arrival of the woman he hoped would take him on as a permanent sub. Each week for the past year he’d come to her, but each week she denied him. Being in her home remained the ultimate torture. To be of service to her his greatest delight. To have her push him away afterward had been agony. R. wasn’t giving up. He watched her approach, her booted footfalls commanding his attention even though he was trained better than to raise his gaze from the floor.

“R. It’s good to see you.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“You may rise.”

He stood on legs that had gone numb from kneeling and nearly stumbled as he smoothly righted himself. R. quickly spread his legs and put his hands behind his back, lowering his head in submission.

“Very good.”

Like many others, R. chose to keep his identity a secret. A basic black mask covered the upper portion of his face, allowing Mistress to see his eyes and mouth. His work as a psychologist in the community made anonymity a necessity. He worked primarily with trauma and crime victims. He also studied the different lifestyles within the BDSM community and was a resource to the local police department. Yet another very important reason to keep his identity a secret.

“What am I to do with you tonight, R.?” Mistress paced around him, eyes searching the wall of implements.

“Whatever Mistress desires I shall do.”

“And if I asked you to stand at attention so I can look at you, will you do that?” Her words curled around him like wisps of smoke. There was an edge about her tonight. Almost brittle, and he was unsure how to proceed. There was more than one kind of mask.

Mistress walked around him, her eyes traveling over his body. Ryder swallowed hard, his cock bobbing in the air. His desire for her warred with his mind. “Whatever Mistress demands I will do, but I wish you would make use of me. Let me serve you. Please.”

She spun on her booted heel, her eyes bright behind the mask. Her red hair had come undone from the prong and trailed down her back, sexy and loose. He wanted to run his fingers through it. To bathe her. To touch her…

“And how would you do that?” She reached down and grabbed his cock, wrapping her fingers around his shaft.

He fought the urge to groan as her grip tightened, a drop of pre-cum shining from the tip.

“In whatever way you wish, Mistress.” His knees grew weak as she reached underneath and cupped his balls tight. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. She tasted of cinnamon, and as he leaned forward to savor her, she gripped him hard, coaxing a groan from his lips.

“Go to the spanking bench, but first I want you to pick out your punishment for this evening. Something that reflects the proper chastisement for this week.”

He gasped as her fingers parted from his testicles, and he staggered forward toward the wall. Of all the implements, his favorite had always been a plain wooden paddle. Made from walnut, the paddle was long with holes that parted the air as it connected. Ryder followed his Mistress’ movement as she went to a counter and pulled out an assortment of objects.

“Mind your place, sub. Get over to that bench now, or you’ll taste more than a paddle on your ass tonight.”

Joy infused him. To be disciplined was to be loved. He knew she cared, but if only the expression on her face reached her eyes. Then and only then would he be content.

***

Gage observed the club-goers milling about the main floor of Crave. It hadn’t been the same in the seven years since Linnet was attacked. There wasn’t a night that went by that he didn’t think of her. The moment he’d bought the place from Justin he’d torn down the room that asshole had mauled her in. Instead he put in an atrium so he could sit and be surrounded by what Linnet loved most. Life and living things.

He nodded at a couple of regulars and wound his way through the crowd. The dungeon monitors were on double duty, as well they should be. The safest club in the city, he dared that motherfucker to step one toe in Crave. He may have gotten away with it once but never again under his watch.

No. Scratch that. It had been more than once. Once every year for the past seven years, a woman who resembled Linnet was found dead at a BDSM club. Until this morning. It was all over the news. For whatever reason the killer either messed up or couldn’t wait for his annual pilgrimage to Hell.

Even after all this time he was wracked with guilt. He should have gotten there sooner. If fucking should’ves were horses. It was a whole lot of a little much too late. He’d let her down. If he’d been half as concerned with his responsibilities as a Dom as he had been trying to get the promotion from work maybe he wouldn’t have lost her.

But you did, didn’t you? You did what you had to do, and everyone else paid the piper.

“Stewing in your juices again, boss?” Roxy slid up to the bar, her familiar bold makeup and rockabilly style making him smile.

“Hey. You caught me.”

Roxy pushed a bottle of sparkling water across the bar. “Look, I realize you don’t want to talk about this, but there’s been a lot of media coverage about what’s been happening at the other clubs.”

Ice slithered down Gage’s back. “You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it.” He started to walk away, but Roxy’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Do you realize for the last seven years, there’s been a murder? Like on the same day?”

He felt a hand on his arm and turned his head to find the petite bartender gazing at him with concern in her eyes.

“Yeah. It hasn’t escaped my attention.”

“Is that why you upped security?”

He nodded. “Every new person in this room has been triple checked and vetted from stem to stern. Dungeon monitors in every room and someone watching the private rooms so nothing like that will ever happen again.”

“Good.” Roxy nodded, her face solemn. “I just wish she hadn’t disappeared. Linnet loved it here so much. God. She was like the sister I never had.” Tears brightened her eyes, and Roxy looked away, blinking quickly.

“I know. We were doing so well. She was excited about school being over, and I wanted to talk to her about taking things up a notch.”

“She was so happy.”

“I just don’t get it. She left the hospital and moved her stuff out without a word.” His own throat closed up, the memory of his girl nestled in his arms as real as it had been seven years ago.

A customer approached the bar. “I have to go. Look, we both miss her. Just keep up the good work, okay?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed, winding through the crowd. He made the rounds most nights when he couldn’t focus on office work. He passed the occupied spanking booths, checking to see all was well. Then he passed the end booth and paused. The woman wielding the paddle on the male submissive was magnificent. Brilliant red hair trailed down her back, and the fierce expression on her face as she applied the impact play was brilliant.

The submissive known as R. lifted his head, his eyes streaming with rapturous tears. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“You’ll thank me more in a moment,” She picked up a tube of lubricant and squirted it between the man’s buttocks. He shivered beneath her ministrations. “Tell me your color.”

“Green, Ma’am.”

“Good. Now tell me your safe word.”

“Candy corn.”

“Now that is definitely something to put a halt to things. Use it if you need to, R.” The Domme presented a good-sized butt plug and with a firm hand, eased it inside of him.

R. trembled, and Gage’s own cock stirred. She worked the sub, easing the plug into his body with whispers and caresses, his comfort and safety evident in her tone.

“Do not come.”

“Mistress…” R. groaned, his cock dangling beneath him through the open area of the spanking bench.

She pushed the last part of the plug into him and reached around toward the sub’s cock. Linnet took the shaft in her hand and pumped him.

“Do you feel my plug inside you?”

“Yes…”

She popped him on his rosy pink ass. “Manners.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress. Yes. Ma’am.” He hung his head low, and Gage saw the strain in his posture as the redheaded Domme massaged his shaft from head to root.

“Do you want to present me with your offering?”

“Oh God, yes.” R. panted. “I mean yes, Mistress. Please may I come?”

“You may.” She slid her hand from his cock to his balls and, as she touched his sac, the sub exploded.

Hips jerking, he came, his cherry red ass blossoming with well-mastered welts, the plug nestled firmly between his cheeks. R. collapsed on the bench, his chest heaving as his hips pumped out the last spasm of his release.

Gage blinked. His cock was so hard he wanted to pound into a wall. Fuck, that woman could work a sub. She moved so much like Linnet but there was no way. The red hair, the masterful way she drove the sub over the edge. He needed to soak his head in a bucket of ice.

But then as the Domme glanced up and saw him there, a look of pure longing flashed across her expression. It was so fast he almost didn’t catch it.

“Linnet,” he breathed as her lips parted, and she blinked, her face turning downward. When she looked up once more, all he saw was a woman in control, the illusion of his beautiful sub gone.

“God. I’m fucking losing it.” Gage shook his head and walked away, his erection subsiding with every step.

Linnet…

“Damn it.” Detective Linnet Adams sat in the driver’s seat of her car and watched the circus play out in front of her. She hadn’t been to a BDSM club without her persona in place in the seven years since she’d been carted out by ambulance. And being in this dump didn’t excite her in the least. Red hair or not, being without a mask made her nervous as hell. Even with a gun.

“What?” Her partner Abel Jones cocked an eyebrow up. “Are we getting out, or would you prefer to detect whatever needs detecting from the car?”

She barked out a laugh, despite the nerves twisting her stomach. “God, Jonesy.”

Her partner for the last year since she’d joined the sex crimes unit, he understood when to prod her and when to keep his mouth shut. His eyes narrowed, and he rubbed a hand over his chin. “That’s what I thought.”

Uniformed cops and lab techs swarmed over the crime scene, the latest in a string of murders that made her blood run cold. Each of them had been a woman in the BDSM scene, and she’d been hoping to stay as far from the situation as possible. She’d been on a surveillance detail for her current sex crimes case involving a human trafficking ring rumored to be operating out of a massage parlor downtown. After working the surrounding area for a week, it was more than a huge pain in the ass when her phone rang and she got invited into the Captain’s office for a sit down. Not invited. Ordered.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

“I think you know why I’ve called you in here, Adams.” Captain Ramkin stared across a desk filled with paperwork and crime scene photos.

“No, sir. I really don’t.”

He arched an eyebrow upward at her comment but continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You have a high arrest record, and I’ve been watching your work with the unit. It’s impressive.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ve also read your file, and I know you’ve seen one of the local shrinks for PTSD.”

Her fingers dug into the faux leather. She tried to focus on what he was saying, but her gaze kept turning toward the whiteboard. Seven women’s pictures hung there with a blank eighth space labeled Jane Doe and a date that resonated in her mind like a sonic boom. It was the day she was attacked seven years ago. All of them were. Except for today.

Shock snapped her attention back to the Captain. “That’s confidential.”

“Nothing’s confidential when it comes to my officers, Detective.”

Linnet crossed her arms and slid her eyes away. It was none of his business. Her personal life was just that. Personal. In a world full of double standards and old boy networks, a girl had to have boundaries or they just walked all over you. Especially with this. It was her darkest hour, and that’s where it needed to stay. Let her anger fuel her cases. It worked. And after hours? Well, that’s what Mistress L. was for. Everything neat and tidy.

Mucking around in her inner psyche just made trouble. Shine a flashlight too far into the shadows, and you got a girl who couldn’t function. She would never be that again. She’d worked too damn hard.

“Look at me, detective.”

Linnet swiveled her eyes toward her boss, helplessness and rage simmering into a boil. Her lips pressed into a fine line. She’d been with the unit for a year now and kept to herself. She did her job and a damned fine one at that. Now he was looking into her file?

“I need you and Jones to go in there and check out the new crime scene on the Bondage Ripper case. Dean and Graceling don’t know a thing about what it is...” he glanced down at his notes. “The BDSM lifestyle.”

No shit.

“What is it you’d like me to do?”

The Captain sat forward in his chair and considered her. “I want you to find out who’s doing this and nail the fucker to the wall.” He reached down on the desk and held up a glossy picture.

Linnet gazed in horror at the photograph dangling from the Captain’s grip. The woman hung from a St. Andrew’s cross, bloody welts and cuts covering her back, buttocks, and legs. Her head lolled to the side, the once beautiful brown hair dark and congealed with blood. She took the picture, hands shaking. She might have been looking at herself seven years ago.

“Hold still, bitch. I’m not done with you yet…”

His voice whispered to her through the past, and she wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the chill. The mantra her therapist had drummed into her raced through her mind. She latched on, repeating it over and over until her breathing returned to normal. For her to black out in the Captain’s office—hmmm. Not a good plan.

I am a tree and my roots grow deep into the earth

Nothing can shake me

My feet hold me firm and I take my energy from the earth