Red Handed (16 page)

She had to hand it to him. His laid-back demeanor and gentle teasing made it impossible not to like him. “Oh yeah? And why is that?”

“To peel back your layers and discover what's hidden in your core.”

“Are you comparing me to an onion?”

He shook his head. “You smell too good to be an onion. You're more like the Internet. Everyone takes it for granted. What you see is what you get. What people don't realize is how complex it really is or how many layers there are to it. The deeper you go, the more secrets you find—secrets that are right there for everyone to see if they only knew where to look. People can attack it, do some damage, but the core is strong. It survives.”

She didn't know how to respond to something so insightful without revealing anything more about herself. Since the best defense was an offense, she turned the tables on him. “Are you a computer engineer or something?”

“A criminal defense attorney with a side business in software design.”

With a hobby of tying women up with rope. Busy guy.

“Sounds as though you're the one with the layers,” she said.

“We're not here to discuss me.” He sat up straight and turned his body toward hers, creating the illusion of intimacy. “So you've had a few days at Benediction. Is there anything you've seen or heard about that you'd like to try?”

Suddenly feeling shy, she shrugged. “I don't know.”

“You do know. You just don't want to say. Communication is essential in BDSM, especially in the negotiating of a scene. You can't be afraid to ask for what you want or to say no. We can go over your soft and hard limits, but that still leaves too many acts and items to discuss.”

How could she articulate what she wanted to try when she could barely admit it to herself? The checklist of items she'd completed for Cole when she'd arrived at Benediction had opened her eyes to a new world filled with sexual possibilities.

“Stand up,” Logan said, taking her hand and bringing them both to their feet. “I'm going to try a verbal exercise with you. Don't speak until we're all done or do any of the things I order, all right?”

She swallowed the knot of apprehension in her throat. What good was a verbal exercise if she couldn't speak? “Okay.”

He moved closer. “You're a dirty slut.”

Really? Was that supposed to turn her on? Because all it did was make her want to slap him.

“You've been bad and deserve to be punished.” After a beat, he continued, giving time for her mind to process the words before saying more. “I can't wait to turn your ass red.”

He kept his gaze on her, the intensity of his stare burning into her. “Take my dick out right now, and with your mouth, show everyone how much you love it.” Her pulse skittered, but she didn't move a muscle.

“I want to hurt you.” He didn't pause and wait for a reaction. “Remove all your clothes, go to the stage, and make yourself come three times.” She bit her lip, and her pussy clenched, the image blossoming before her eyes.

His nostrils flared, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I'd love to see my ropes decorating your naked body.” His throat worked over a swallow, and if her eyes didn't deceive her, his words had affected him as well, judging by the outline of his erection through his jeans. “I'm going to tie you to my bed and do whatever I want to your body.”

He reached out his hand as if he was going to touch her. She held her breath. Did she want him to?

Before he made contact, he dropped his arm to his side. “I'm going to share you with my friend.” Her nipples hardened, rubbing painfully against her dress. “Crawl over to the stage.” She winced.

His sexy smile returned, and this time, he did touch her, taking her hand and returning them to the loveseat. “Good job. Do you want to know what I just learned from you?”

“Yes. Please do tell.” She folded her arms across her chest, although she had no doubt he saw her body's reaction to his words. Still, he was a man, and men, in her opinion, weren't usually that astute.

One by one, he ticked off his fingers. “You're definitely not a masochist, although you wouldn't mind the occasional spanking, especially if it was in front of a crowd. You're not into humiliation. You're interested in bondage and multiple partners. You're submissive, but only for the right man, because that's not your kink. Interestingly, you are an exhibitionist.”

Her jaw went slack. “Why is that interesting? I'm sure there are plenty of exhibitionists at Benediction.”

There was no way he got all that by her nipples. She didn't know how he'd figured it all out simply by asking her those questions, but it was uncanny in its accuracy. Did they have a training program for the Doms where they taught them how to read body language, or was it something innate to people like Logan and Cole?

“True. But not one of them has held Cole's attention as you have.”

And that's why he left her in the dungeon while he went upstairs to his residence with his collared submissive. She turned away, catching Sedona by the stairs talking animatedly with a few of the trainees. “I don't want to talk about him.”

“Look at me. Same exercise, only I want you to answer my questions.” He didn't stand this time, but he held her hand and rested it on his thigh, his thumb brushing the inside of her wrist.

“Do you want to play with Adrian?”

She sighed, thinking about how Adrian had carried out Cole's orders between her thighs. But would she have enjoyed it without Cole's arms around her?

“Do you want to play with Gracie?” She pressed her lips together and held back a laugh. Thanks to Gracie's kiss, she knew same-sex scenes were not for her.

“Do you want to play with Master Cole?” Her body instantly heated. The few days with Cole had already trained her body to respond to the thought of how easily he could bring it pleasure. But her body needed to catch up with her brain. It didn't matter how he'd made her body come alive. Because all of it meant nothing. She was just another slave to him. And once she seduced him and drugged him to get access to the account information, he'd likely hate her.

“Danielle, do you want to play with me?” Her gaze dropped to his lips. They were definitely kissable. In fact, there wasn't a single part of him she found unattractive. But no, she didn't want to scene with him. At least not without Cole.

“I think we have the answer.” He kept her hand in his but removed his thumb from her wrist making her suspect he'd used her pulse to derive his conclusions. “Regardless of what brought you here, you've got feelings for Master Cole, and from what I can tell, he's got feelings for you as well.”

She huffed. “You're wrong. He doesn't feel anything more for me than any of his other trainees. We don't have a future.”

“You can't know that. The future's irrelevant if you don't live in the present.”

“Attorney, software designer, and philosopher, huh?”

He laughed. “I'm well-rounded, what can I say?” He squeezed her hand, then released it, standing. “If you decide Cole doesn't do it for you, come find me. I'd love to see you in my ropes.” He winked at her before he picked up his rope off the floor and trekked toward the back rooms.

A larger crowd had congregated by the stairs, a mix of trainees and members. Curious, she went over and cut through the gathering to tap Sedona on the back of her shoulder. “Sedona, what's going on?”

Sedona twirled around, her eyes wide. “Apparently, Master Cole has decided to redecorate the gallery with a baseball bat.”

Chapter Seventeen

D
ANIELLE ELBOWED HER
way through the cluster of people, not caring whom she had to mow down to get to Cole. From the corner of her eye, she caught Cassandra with Anthony Rinaldi. She ran up the stairs to the main floor, and as she neared the gallery, she heard crashing and the shattering of glass.

What would've caused Cole to lose his control? Had the woman broken up with him? Had he loved her? Her chest burned at the thought of Cole in a rage over the loss of another woman.

Several members stood outside the door, watching the commotion. Cole would hate that. She made her way through the group to the inside of the gallery and shut the door behind her, cutting off their ringside view of Cole's breakdown.

Master Michael and Gracie each had a hand on Cole's arm, obviously attempting to stop him from creating further damage. With eyes as black as the night without the moon, a struggling Cole clutched a baseball bat in one hand and a photograph in the other.

“Let me go,” he demanded in a voice similar to the one he used on his slaves, only laced with desperation. “If I want to destroy my artwork, it's my right.”

“Well as your friend,” Gracie said, “I forbid you.”

Cole raised a brow. “How are you going to stop me?”

“Like this.” In a blur, Gracie swept out her leg, hooking it around Cole's ankle and knocking him off his feet on to his back. Then, before he had the opportunity to recover, she jumped on his chest, seized the bat out of his hands, and threw it to the side.

Michael swore under his breath and rubbed his hand over his face. “How the hell do you know how to do that?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention I'm a third-degree black belt in karate?” Gracie asked nonchalantly.

Cole's eyes were closed, and his breathing was slow, but Danielle still sensed his distress. It hurt her too, unshed tears clogging her throat and stinging her eyes.

She kneeled beside him and caressed his cheek. “Gracie. Master Michael. I'd like to be alone with Master Cole.”

Master Michael's jaw twitched. Gracie slapped her hands together, lifted herself off Cole, and turned to Michael. “Come on. Let's go do some damage control out in the club. I'm sure the gossip has already made its rounds.”

Master Michael rocked on his heels as he considered the situation. “If you'd like me to stay, Cole, just say the word.”

Sitting up, Cole shook his head. “No. Go with Gracie. Danielle will be safe with me. I promise my theatrics are over.” As Gracie and Master Michael headed toward the door, Cole called out, “Make sure you lock it.”

Now that they were alone, she didn't know what to do for him. How could she ease his pain?

She could seduce him, here and now, while his guard was down. Once he broke his rule against fucking a trainee, it would only be a matter of time before he brought her up to his bed. She might be taking advantage of the situation, but she'd be giving him comfort in return.

She'd be a vessel for him to slake his lusts. There'd be no expectations of a relationship or promises of forever. Only a temporary fix for his broken heart.

His head hung to his chest as she stood and unzipped her dress. She tugged it down her legs and when it dropped to the floor, she kicked it out of the way and kneeled in front of Cole. Trying to copy what she'd seen around the club, she spread her thighs and bowed her head.

She swallowed thickly, shivering with both apprehension and arousal. Her body warmed, a flush breaking out on her chest and a subtle pounding in her clit. She'd never been more aware of her position as his slave. Although it sliced her in half to think of serving him as he thought of another woman, she'd do it. Not out of guilt or because she expected anything in return, but because he needed her.

“Master Cole, how may I be of service?”

He snapped up his head and leveled his gaze on Danielle, capturing her with the blatant heat in his eyes. The fury and pain from his eyes melted away, replaced by sexual awareness and desire. Her nipples jutted out, drawing his attention to them.

He shifted himself closer to her and cupped a breast in his hand, brushing his thumb across the center and licking his lower lip. “You really want to serve me?” At her nod, Cole squeezed her flesh, his nostrils flaring and his pupils dilating. He placed his hands on her waist and tugged her toward him, then lying on his back, lifted her so she straddled his chest. “I'm going to sink my cock inside of that addictive pussy of yours and lose myself in you.”

“No.” She shook her head even as she grinded her pussy against him, painting his skin with her glistening arousal. “You don't fuck the trainees. I won't be your regret.”

He tucked two fingers high inside her pussy and worked her clit with his thumb. “My only regret is not doing it sooner.” With his other hand securing the back of her neck, he pushed her face closer. “But if you don't want me . . . if you want to use the safe word—”

“Use me.” She couldn't deny him. Didn't want to. “Whatever you need from me, it's yours. I belong to you.”

He growled. “Not yet, you don't. But you will. I'm going to fuck you so hard and so deep, you'll never doubt who your Master is.” He hoisted her over his face and began to devour her, spreading her wide and probing her entrance with his tongue.

She threw back her head and surrendered, overwhelmed by his fevered and voracious appetite for her. The whiskers on his cheeks rubbed against her thighs, sensitizing the skin and setting it on fire. His mouth fit over her labia as if he was trying to suck her entire pussy at once. His tongue swept from her channel to her clitoris, which he flicked again and again. Like lightning, it scorched her flesh, making her thighs tremble and her pussy quiver. Her muscles clenched, an electrical current igniting her cells with pulses and throbs.

It was too much. Too intense. She tried to lift herself off him, move away, but he caught her by her thighs and yanked her down so hard, she worried she'd smother him.

He didn't complain. Just kept on working her and working her hard, adding his fingers, first one, then two, then three inside her tight passage, rubbing the elusive spot only he could find. His hungry groans vibrated against her clitoris, adding another layer to her sweet torture.