Sanctuary (8 page)

“Spread a little for me. Yes, good.”

She felt wide open. Wanton. She loved it.

He grasped one hip in his hand, pressed up against her, his erection against her buttock.

God, he was going to fuck her tonight. She could hardly wait. Her sex clenched at the thought.

His fingers found her wet slit once more, and he pushed one inside.

“Ah, God…”

“Stay quiet, Devin. Try to be quiet, to hold still, no matter what I'm doing to you. Do you understand? You can answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Say my name.”

“I understand, Shaye.”

When he pushed a second finger inside her, causing pleasure to spill into her system like liquid heat, she had to bite her lip.

He began a slow pumping rhythm, fucking her with his hand, and at the same time he began to spank her.

It didn't hurt at first—she was too full of pure pleasure from what he was doing to her needy pussy. But soon he began to smack harder, and it became more difficult to keep quiet. But she would do it. For him.

He kept up the spanking, raining blows over her ass, her thighs, and all the time fucking her with his thrusting fingers. She was lost in pleasure—even the pain was pleasure. Lovely.

And then he hit her with something.

She smelled the leather even as she felt the wide strap across her bottom. She was too shocked to cry out.

He hit her again with the strap, and this time she did yelp.

“Come on, Devin. You can take it.”

And she could. She felt a certain pride well within her as he smacked her ass over and over with the leather strap, as she felt the welts rising on her skin. She knew she could handle the pain. And somewhere between the hurting strap and the lovely thrust of his fingers plunging inside her, the line began to blur. Sensation became one thing—pleasure and pain—and her service to
him
, that she was doing this to please him, but as she'd said, it was what she craved most now, as well.

It went on and on, until she felt her pussy swell with need, felt her climax trembling in her body, waiting, waiting.

Shaye must have felt it too.

“Hold it back,” he ordered. “Don't come until I tell you to.”

“Yes…”

He began to fuck her harder with his hand, really slamming into her. At the same time he kept smacking her sore and stinging skin with the strap. Something about the sharp scent of the leather was driving her crazy. Needing to come was driving her crazy. Her legs began to shake.

“Oh, baby, this is beautiful,” he told her, his voice a little breathless. “You can do it. Hold it back for me.”

He hit her harder, and pleasure surged, making her pussy ache, her clitoris hardening until she could barely stand it.

“Shaye…I can't.”

“You can. And you will. Because I need to be inside you when you come, baby. I need you to come all over me.”

She groaned as he slipped his fingers from her—at the loss of sensation. At the knowledge that he would fuck her now.

In moments he was behind her once more, and she felt his strong, naked thighs against hers, the slight tickle of the fine hair there. Then his sheathed cock was poised at her entrance. She surged back against him, trying to take him in.

A low, rough chuckle from him. “Little Devin, you are not the one running this show, are you?”

“No, Shaye.”

“I like that—the way you say my name. I want you to ask for it.” His voice was rough with desire. “Ask me by name, Devin.”

“Please, Shaye.”

He pressed his thick cock against her, the tip just slipping inside. She could feel the cool metal of his piercing even through the condom. “Please, what?”

She groaned. “Please fuck me.”

“Say it again. The right way.”

“Oh…please fuck me, Shaye.”

“Ah, that's better.”

He slammed into her, filling her.

“Ah, God!”

His hand was on the small of her back, holding her down, commanding her.

“Don't come. I can feel it, baby. I can feel your sweet pussy, soaking wet and trembling. But you'll hold it back.”

“Yes,” she gasped.

He began to move, pressing his big cock deeper inside her, sliding out, a slow, easy rhythm that was driving her mad. Her body was on fire.

He reached around with his other hand and took her hard clit between his fingers, and she thought she'd come right there, but he pinched her so hard she yelped.

“Ah!”

His fingers squeezed, and pain was like a jolt of electricity between her thighs. He let go and pleasure followed, her head filling up with it.

“Got some endorphins, my girl?”

“Oh yes.”

“Good. I'm really going to fuck you now. Have to…”

He thrust into her, hard, then again, and again. She could barely hold herself up against his pummeling hips, his cock filling her in lethal strokes, the metal ring rubbing against her g-spot with every thrust. Pleasure was a wave, threatening to drown her. He moved faster and faster, leaned down and latched on to the back of her neck with his lush, wet mouth, used his teeth to anchor himself there. She'd never been fucked like this in her life.

She heard his growl, felt his cock begin to pulse deep inside her.

“Now, Devin. Come on…come for me while I come into you. Do it.”

He pounded into her, his fingers pressing her tight clitoris, and that was all it took—his permission—and she was coming so damn hard she saw stars.

Pleasure was like a vine, endlessly coiling and uncoiling in her body. She shook with it, her pussy clenching, clenching. His cock pulsed, he cried out, slammed into her.

Finally he stopped, his head resting on her shoulder, his breath a gasping pant in her ear. He was still hard inside her.

“Fucking unbelievable,” he muttered. “Jesus, what you do to me, girl.”

She was still quivering with the last frissons of her climax when he turned her around, pushed her down on the sofa and laid his big body on top of hers. He paused to shift so he could pull off the condom, then he took her mouth with his—there was no other word for it—and kissed her hard. His tongue pressed between her lips, invading her mouth. He tasted like salt and skin and sex.

He kept kissing her, making out with her in a mad rush, and her body was lighting up again.

Finally he pulled away and she felt…what? Bereft, maybe. But he was picking her up in his arms, carrying her through his house, down a long hallway, muttering to her.

“Just have to have you in my bed. Fuck you again. Spank you with my bare hands again. Do everything again.”

“Yes, please, Shaye.”

He paused at the foot of the stairs and kissed her again.

“Goddamn it, Devin.”

“What? I… What did I do?”

“You make me lose control. Lose myself. But it's all good. You're all good. Jesus.”

She squirmed a little in his arms, pleased with herself. With his estimation of her.

He carried her into a bedroom—
his
bedroom—and laid her down on a low bed with a sleek black lacquer headboard.

“Lie still,” he ordered.

He slid down, spreading her legs as he pulled her to the edge of the bed, where he knelt and immediately lowered his head between her thighs.

“Ah, God, Shaye.”

“Quiet, my girl, or I'll have to gag you.”

“You wouldn't!”

“Don't try me, little Devin. I'm too busy with your beautiful pussy.”

“Mmm…”

He bent and started licking her, his tongue flat against her heated clit. He used his fingers to work inside her, to pinch at her swollen pussy lips, to press inside her once more. And in moments she was coming, writhing, moaning.

He pulled away from her only to demand, “Again.”

She knew better than to argue.

Using hands and tongue and teeth, this time, he had her coming once more in long, shattering surges of pleasure that left her gasping for air.

He slid on top of her, kissed her throat, her breasts, tugging one nipple between his teeth.

“Got to fuck you again, baby.”

He leaned over her and pulled a condom from a table beside the bed, slipped it on, and eased his body over hers until he was resting between her thighs.

Her arms went around him, luxuriating in the weight of his body on hers. He had the softest skin, for a man. She traced her fingertips in small circles over his back, in that vulnerable spot between his shoulder blades, then her nails very lightly, smiling when he shivered. Then he went perfectly still and she stopped.

“Shaye?”

“Hands over your head, Devin.”

She did as he asked, and he held both wrists in one of his big hands, held them tight enough to hurt. To make her feel completely overpowered by him. She loved it.

He plowed right into her, and somehow she was coming again, instantly, her body clenching, her mind spinning, out of control. She went limp as he fucked her, unable to move. Soon he was coming, calling her name. His hands came down to hold her face and he was kissing her again.

She was breathless, her body soaring. Her heart beating too fast.

Incredible, the way this man handled her. She'd never felt anything like it in her life. All she knew was that she felt amazing, needy, vulnerable as hell. And she never wanted it to stop.

It didn't stop for two long days and nights. Shaye spanked her, took the strap to her, making her count the strokes for him, which made her feel more submissive than ever. He tied her up with rope, gorgeous, complicated knotwork over her naked torso that made her feel decorated. Cherished. Even when he left her tied up there for an hour or more at a time while he went to make business calls in his office. She didn't understand it. She simply let it happen.

And when he fucked her, it was the same again: the furious pace of fucking and kissing. And the kissing! It was crazy, the way he kissed her—as if he were going to eat her up with his mouth. That alone made her head spin. Made her soften all over.

In between they talked, lying in his bed, or sitting on the cool granite counters in his kitchen, which looked like something out of a magazine. They'd order food—Thai or Italian or Cuban, everything rich and gorgeously prepared—and he'd insist on feeding her tidbits from his fork, or with his fingers, tucking the food into her mouth almost tenderly.

They laughed a lot, and he taught her the wicked humor in BDSM practice. She loved that this was part of his ideas about kink. She loved everything that was happening between them.

All but the small, nagging voice that kept insisting something must be wrong with her. But things were good enough that she could shut the voice down. Most of the time.

She wanted to have this moment in time with him. Even if it turned out to be nothing more than a moment.

At least, that was what she was telling herself.

Chapter Seven

It had been the longest week of Shaye's life. He'd forced himself to take some time away from her. He'd
had
to do it, no matter how fucking unbelievable those days and nights with her had been.
Because
of it, damn it.

He'd gone to work, done his job, come home and talked to Devin on the phone late at night. But he hadn't seen her. He knew—hell, was afraid—that if he saw her he'd tear her clothes off and fuck her senseless again, render himself senseless, and still wouldn't be able to get the need for her out of his system. That's what she did to him.

He could not allow himself to lose control that way. Not with her. Not with anyone.

He knew he was keeping her at a certain distance. That she was confused by it, even though he'd told her work was demanding his focus at the moment. A good enough excuse. Plausible, certainly, after the time he'd been taking off to be with her. But he was certain she felt the tension. He was hoping she was writing it off to his hectic work week.

They'd talked a lot about what would be expected of her at Sanctuary. That he'd have to have clean STI papers on them both to turn in before they went, which they'd already taken care of. And once there, that she had to be naked, which didn't seem to worry her at all. No reason why it should. She had an amazing body, lithe and lean, like a dancer. Gorgeous. He'd told her that she'd be on her knees much of the time, had described to her the submissive position she must assume when kneeling at his feet. Told her to expect that others might stop to examine her, to talk to him about her.

She would be fully submissive at Sanctuary—he'd been clear with her about that. And her response had been a long pause in which all he heard through the phone was her quick, panting breath. That told him all he needed to know about whether or not she was ready to go there, to Sanctuary, to this most extreme BDSM environment. But was he?

He had never taken another woman there. Had never wanted to. His membership at Sanctuary had so far been as an observer, other than the few times he'd been invited by a fellow Dom or Domme to join a scene, to play their submissives and slaves.

Taking a sub to Sanctuary was not like going to any other BDSM club. It was more than the scening, more than the heavily charged atmosphere. If Devin accepted Sanctuary, if the members there accepted her, then their next visit would mean a collaring, that ritual which, in this community, signified as much of a commitment as marriage did in “normal” society.

He hardly knew her.

He felt as though he'd known her forever the first moment he'd seen her. And after their marathon sessions of fucking and playing and
talking
in a way he'd never done with anyone else… Even the fact he'd mentioned his parents to her—not that he'd told her the whole story with his father, how he'd pretty much collapsed after his mother had died, being left virtually alone as a kid while his dad went through women at an alarming rate to hide his grief. Fuck. Why was he thinking about all that shit now? No, it was Devin he was thinking of. Somehow she was bringing it all up. But he didn't want to stop seeing her. Playing with her. Sleeping with her. And yeah—actually sleeping with her warm body curled into his chest as much as the actual sex.
That
was something entirely new. And it all made this different.

This is fucking insane.

But he was taking her there—to Sanctuary. And the idea made his whole body surge with lust and an intense sense of needing to protect her, to
own
her, that he'd never felt before.

Oh yes, he was a control freak, no doubt about it, but owning her—
needing
to own her? What the hell was that about? Need equaled weakness. He'd witnessed what that kind of need could do to a person. What it had done to his father. And he'd seen how his dad had regained control of his life, had hung on to that control by never loving another woman. Hadn't he told him over and over? Asshole or not, Shaye had learned his lesson well from his dad.

Don't ever need anything. Anyone.

His need for Devin was frankly scaring the shit out of him.

If he was smart he'd never talk to her again, never see her. But he couldn't do that. And tonight, he would take her to Sanctuary. He kept telling himself it was nothing more than indulging his desire to play there, in that amazing place. That Devin was merely a girl who could handle it. But that was pure bullshit, and he knew it. Taking her there was a test. But whether he was testing Devin or himself, he wasn't really sure.

On Saturday night Devin stepped from the shower, every nerve in her body on high alert, hyperaware of each tiny breath of water, air, her own touch on her skin as she dried herself with a fluffy towel.

Shaye had told her how to prepare herself—that she should concentrate on the rite of preparation, that he wanted her to be conscious of how she was feeling as she got ready for her introduction to Sanctuary. She took her time getting ready and was surprised to find a deep sense of ritual in bathing, smoothing lotion onto her skin, dabbing perfume behind her ears, in the hollow of her throat, behind her knees. She applied her makeup carefully, brushed out her hair in long, even strokes, making a rhythm of it.

Finally she stood before her closet, her skin alive with anticipatory heat, her system jangling with nerves and need.

How did one dress for an evening in which she knew she would be naked?

After several minutes of consideration she found a short, soft-knit dress in a pale gold that set off her hair and clung to her body. She left off her bra and panties. What was the point? She felt gloriously naked beneath her clothing and thought it would please Shaye, both of which made her pulse race faster.

Her high nude pumps and a pair of tiny gold hoop earrings completed the outfit, which left her with a few minutes in which she had nothing to do but wait. To imagine. To focus on the tremors running through her body, a series of small jolts of desire.

She'd never been so nervous and so simultaneously turned on in her life.

She stood by the window in her living room, looking out as the fog drifted across the night sky. There was no moon tonight to illuminate the streets below. She knew the city was still there, as endlessly busy as always, yet she felt entirely insulated from the bustle and the life there. The anticipation of the night ahead made her feel separate from everyday life, from other people, from everyone but
him
.

Shaye.

Her heart gave a good, hard thud when he rang the bell. It was time.

She opened the door. God, he looked too good in his dark leather trench coat. She took a deep breath, took in the earthy scent of the leather along with the warm, woodsy scent of Shaye himself.

“Are you ready, little Devin?”

Oh, he knew perfectly well what it did to her when he called her that.

He held out a hand to her and she took it. His fingers curled around hers possessively and immediately her sex went warm and liquid. She nodded—she couldn't speak.

How was it possible that she felt as though her mind was sinking into that dark, warm place already? Into subspace, Shaye had told her it was called. But she gave herself over to it. To him, as he pulled her through the door, took care to lock it behind them before they rode the old elevator down. The moldy scent of the Paris catacombs smelled like sex to her tonight. Or maybe it was Shaye standing next to her, a protective arm around her waist.

He put her carefully into the car, his shining BMW that felt like pure luxury inside. But even sexier than his sleek car was his profile as he drove. His dark goatee made him look like the devil himself tonight.

They were silent as the car glided over the rough San Francisco streets, up onto Nob Hill, one of the most exclusive sections in the city. The quaint Victorians gave way there to mansions done in every architectural style, each one more grand than the next.

Shaye downshifted and turned onto a narrow side street. She watched the way his hand caressed the gear shift, remembered with a shiver of desire how that hand had felt on her skin, between her legs…

“We're here, Devin. Are you ready? Do you remember everything I told you?”

She looked up to see high, wrought-iron gates sliding back soundlessly in front of the car. So enormous. So stately. Her throat went dry. But when Shaye reached over and smoothed his fingers over the back of her hand she calmed.

“Okay?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Yes. I'm okay. I'm ready.”

“I haven't kissed you tonight,” he said inexplicably.

“No.”

“I want to. But I can't trust myself with you. I need to be absolutely in command in order to be here. I don't want you to think I don't want you. I want you too much, maybe. Do you understand?”

“I…I think so.”

“I'll kiss you senseless later, I promise.”

She dared to glance over at him, saw a small grin on his face, smiled at him.

“Okay?” he asked her again.

“Yes. Okay.”

He took his hand back, gunned the engine and drove through the gates.

The house, if one could even call it that, was beautiful. Four stories of brick, with graceful white columns. A wide staircase that led to an imposing pair of doors flanked by uniformed attendants. Magnificent. The place reminded her of the antebellum mansions in the South. But there was something more Gothic about it, more New Orleans Garden District.

Shaye stopped the car in front and a valet opened Devin's door for her, helped her out and handed her to Shaye. She was shaking all over with fear of what might lie ahead but there was as much excitement as fear.

He laid a hand on the back of her neck, leaned in and said quietly, “Here we go, Devin. Quiet now.”

He led her up the stairs, her heels clicking on the steps. Marble, she thought, glancing down.

One of the doormen greeted Shaye. “Good evening, Mr. Vincent.”

“Evening, George.”

The doorman swung open the heavy front door and they stepped into a foyer. Two naked and collared women stood in front of them. They approached Devin and immediately began to undress her. Panic flooded her.

“Shaye?”

“Shh. It's okay. You're to be naked tonight, remember? And you must be silent.” He smoothed a hand over her hair, tilted her chin and brushed a quick, hot kiss over her cheek. “Be good, Devin. There is no room for error here. You must follow the rules. Do as I say. Tell me you understand, and do it right.”

Yes, don't speak.

She nodded, somehow comforted by knowing she'd done it correctly. By having rules to follow in this strange place. Rules to fall into. It made it easier somehow.

The two girls had stripped her bare, removed her shoes, and Shaye's hand was on the back of her neck again, squeezing.

“Head down, yes, that's good. And clasp your hands behind your back. Come.”

She followed him, feeling more naked than she ever had in her life, with her clasped hands making her back arch, her breasts thrusting forward. The idea of what she was doing in this place was overwhelming, yet again she was comforted by knowing what was expected of her, by being able to let go of control and simply do as she was told. And her sex was as hot and damp as it had ever been, her nipples two stiff and aching peaks.

He led her through another pair of doors, and she was hit by a wall of sensation: music, voices, the scent of expensive perfume and even more expensive scotch. All she could see was the smooth marble floor beneath her bare feet as Shaye led her into what must have been the center of the room, to a spot where a large circle of gleaming black broke the expanse of white marble. He took her to the very middle and had her stand on a pattern of gold stars set into the floor.

“Down, Devin.”

His voice was commanding, his hand on the back of her neck exerting a gentle pressure. She went right down. Gave herself over to the sinking sensation as her knees hit the hard, cool floor. Her mind emptied out as though a stopper had been pulled. All she could do was breathe in, breathe out, and wait to do whatever he wanted her to. Automatically, she assumed the position he had told her would be required of her tonight: knees spread, back arched, palms face up on her thighs. She kept her head down, her gaze on the floor.

She was dimly aware of a hush settling over the room, of a crowd of people pressing in. The music faded, went silent. Her head was absolutely spinning, fear and the keenest, most thrilling edge she'd ever experienced in her life warring within her. And yet, she knew she was in exactly the right place.

Then Shaye's voice, deep and formal, ringing in the enormous room. “I present Devin to Sanctuary.”

A pause, and then the jarring sound of applause made her tremble as he lifted her chin and said quietly, “Head up now, little Devin, so everyone can see how beautiful you are.”

God, to look at the faces of the people around her! It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. To be so objectified. And yet an electrifying tremor of excitement ran through her, charging her system with energy, with a deep, stabbing need. With pure pleasure.

It was a few moments before she could catch her breath. Then she was able to focus a bit, to take in the scene around her.

Other submissives—slaves, she supposed—naked and on their knees, as she was. Beautiful, all of them. An expanse of naked flesh, gleaming eyes, parted lips. Yes, to be one of them! She envied their collars, made of leather, chrome, heavy chain. She couldn't take her eyes off them. The others, their masters and mistresses, were clothed, but she couldn't really pay them any attention. She was too intrigued by these mirrors of her own yielding need.

Slowly, she came to realize the crowd had closed in, that people were talking about her.

“She's a lovely girl, Shaye. Spectacular breasts.”

“Beautiful. Love her red hair.”