Victory Rising (8 page)

“A Catherine Wheel is something you’ll learn to enjoy if your Master uses it properly.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” she grumbled, jerking toward the left when a cool breeze blew across the room. A door slammed in the distance. She tried to lift her head off the small pillow supporting her. “Who’s in here?”

“Don’t worry about them.”

“Them? What? Are you out of your mind?” Victory swallowed a few times. Writhing against the binds securing her legs against the wheel’s spokes, she experienced a combination of sensations, and each one sent an independent tingle up and down her body.

“Unlike some of the men you’ve had in your bed recently, I’m actually of sound mind,” he said, removing the lens cover. He stood behind the camera and fiddled with an attachment. “There. I’ve made the right adjustments. We’re raring to go.”

“No, we aren’t,” she weakly objected. “Who’s in here?” The unknown was enticing. The allure of the unexpected piqued her interest and fed her curiosity as much as her lust.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he promised, joining her.

“I’m not for this, Devon.”

“I think you are.” He stroked his cock. “We could have a lot of fun together, Victory. I seem to remember a gal who rode my face like she was riding an untamed pony. Remember her?”

“Yes, but—” Oh God, he was right. They could have a lot of fun together. As she acknowledged the sporadic sensations zipping through her body, she came to realize something else.

She was different with Devon. She was more sexual because of Devon. She was someone else altogether.

“There’s not a ‘but’ to discuss,” he said. “The night Addison invited you to join us, we had an agreement. She couldn’t fuck you, and I couldn’t fuck you, but we both almost broke our promise.”

“Addison wanted to fuck me?”

“Yes. She was bi.”

“No way.” So that’s why he’d asked the question earlier. He’d wanted to know if she would’ve agreed. Addison apparently had already expressed her interest.

“Come on, baby, don’t act so shocked. Who do you think twirled those hard nipples while you were sitting on my face?”

Victory shivered. She thought back to their night together. Addison had blindfolded her when she’d first entered their suite, and it wasn’t until she was about three seconds away from orgasm that Addison had released the blindfold. “I would’ve known if a woman’s hands had touched me.”

Though, now, she wasn’t so sure.

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

“No, I guess I didn’t,” she whispered, watching him pull at his cock with more determination, hoping they could move beyond talking about the past. The future held more promise.

He opened his hand. The length of his cock stretched across his large palm. He taunted her by rubbing his fingers and thumb down the length of his dick.

Her mouth watered. She longed to taste him, to have his cock sinking between her cheeks, tapping against her throat, and gliding across her tongue.

Thinking of tongues made her focus on Devon’s. He had quite
a licker,
and she remembered his unique talent. After a few drinks at the bar, she had been completely relaxed when she’d joined them. Was it possible that she hadn’t paid attention to the hands groping her? Sure. She’d been intoxicated, blasted drunk, in fact. And Devon’s mouth had kept her well entertained.

Who was she kidding anyway? She couldn’t completely forget the past because her history with Devon was what brought her here. She closed her eyes and reveled in the foggy memory. Their night at the Hilton was special, an important milestone in their building relationship. They’d messed around for less than an hour, and Devon had pleasured her in ways she couldn’t put into words. She’d agreed to the illicit rendezvous for two reasons.

She’d known Addison and Damsel had been having sex, sneaking around to fuck whenever Victory left the club to shop and run around with girlfriends. She’d also been in awe of Devon since she’d discovered he’d taken the gavel at Heroes and Rogues. She hadn’t minded sharing Damsel. She’d wanted Devon anyway.

Who wouldn’t admire the man? He’d taken hold of his club and shown he was a symbol of leadership, determined to lead the Heroes and Rogues to the four corners of the earth. There were rumors about how he’d somehow managed to hang onto the leadership appointed him, but regardless of how the Heroes and Rogues made their money, he’d operated right above the legal radar, escaped raids and walked away from numerous felony charges.

None of them stuck.

If the juries he went before were panels full of women, she understood. With blond curly-Q locks hanging between his shoulder blades, Devon typically wore his hair in a ponytail. Known to step out and frequent the clubs, he often dressed in casual wear, giving the impression he was a businessman on vacation, a rebel at heart with no place to go.

High cheeks, full lips, and a long, lean nose made him pretty-boy perfect, but the six in the middle, the chiseled abs in his belly were made-to-order, designed with a woman’s fingers in mind. Oh boy, if she could only count the hours, remember all the wet dreams. He’d inspired plenty and would likely provoke many more.

She tensed when he touched her, aware of how unfocused she had become now that she was naked and he was undressed, too. And they had company!

“Relax, doll. This will only hurt for a minute.”

“What?” she screeched, certain she strained every muscle as she tried to lift herself away from the wheel once more.

Devon waved a dildo high in the air. She gasped, nearly choked, as she eyed the thick toy. Between the sexual frustration and building apprehension, she wasn’t sure if she could take continual stimulation. She was aroused enough. “Don’t do it, Devon. Please.”

“Don’t what? Taunt you?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, nodding to their guests waiting in the dark corner. “Cara and Tigger are a different story.”

Oiling the artificial cock became a work of art as Devon rubbed the lubricant up and down the shaft. “We have a few things to ask you.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered, watching as Cara and Tigger came into view then made themselves comfortable on the bed. “Ever heard of an inquisition with your clothes on and without an audience? I’m pretty straightforward. I wouldn’t oppose an intimate interrogation.”

“You’ll have one soon enough,” Tigger promised, acting as if he were used to these games. “Devon has a trust issue. You understand. It isn’t often when the object of Devon’s affections has been in bed with a man he sees as his enemy.”

“I’m obviously not under the covers with anyone at this particular moment.”

Devon snickered. He leaned over and acted as if he might kiss her. Instead, he whispered, “Don’t be sassy, Victory.”

“Tigger asked a question,” she said.

“No I didn’t,” Tigger said. “But I’m getting around to it. How can Devon trust you?”

“How can he not?” Victory asked, watching Devon as he moved around the wheel, dragging his fingers up and down her legs at various points.

“Like I said, you were in bed with the Angels.”

“I was in bed with Damsel because I didn’t know better. Gaylord was a different story.”

Devon stopped. “How was it different?”

“Were you in love with Gaylord?” Tigger asked.

Her heart caught in her chest. She felt the tears well in her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, willing herself to grab a hold of her emotions before she answered him. Love? No. She hated Gaylord more than she could explain, more than she’d ever be able to put into words.

“Well? Were you?” Tigger pressed.

“No,” she bit out. “He made me. Okay? Can we change the subject now?”

“No,” Tigger said.

“Yes,” Devon deadpanned. The lone word was spoken with finality. Apparently, she’d told them everything they needed to know.

The room fell silent. Devon made a complete circle around her, his hands were suddenly everywhere, propelling over her with increased speed. Then, out of nowhere, several blows came down across her pussy.
Wallop!
Wallop! Wallop!
Devon slapped her bare mound with the slippery shaft and her mouth went dry as he wiggled the toy against her entrance. “Holy hell, you’re so wet. You’re excited, aren’t cha baby?”

“No,” she rasped.

“Don’t lie to me, Victory. I’ll spank you until you’re spewing truths.”

“Telling you the truth is the least of my worries.” She had every intention of being honest with him because she planned to keep him around for longer than a minute. Relationships were built on trust and truth. If she ever expected to form a real committed relationship with someone, she had to start somewhere, and honesty seemed like a remarkable place to begin.

Devon studied Tigger, and Tigger shrugged. Cara shot Victory a grin, one of those knowing smiles one woman gives to another when she understands what she’s going through because she’s lived the experience.

Undoubtedly, this event stood as her club initiation. The MC had their unusual ways of introducing a woman into their way of life.

“You’ve been here, done this,” Victory said, thinking Cara’s presence there was more meaningful than anyone would likely acknowledge. She had decided to accept Victory, perhaps even welcome her.

“Many times,” Cara admitted.

Victory bit back a pleasurable moan when Devon tucked the dildo between her folds.

“There you go, sugar,” he said, stroking her heat. Leaning over her, he left a peck upon her lips then cupped the weight of his cock in his left hand while pinching her nipple with his right fingers.

“Ah God, Devon, don’t. Please don’t do this.”

“Call me Sir or Master. Your choice.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, quite prepared to take on the role of willing submissive if that’s what he required. She would do almost anything he asked of her.

The wheel was suddenly set in motion. Their faces became a blur. Without wasting a moment, the other couple undressed, another signal Cara had decided to befriend her. Surely she wouldn’t just enter Devon’s bedroom and begin performing without trusting there was a new relationship to celebrate—perhaps several wrapped securely in one.

Victory became aware of her every breath, the rise and fall of her chest. As the ceiling fan above rotated in tandem with the wheel, she remembered what she’d heard about the Heroes and Rogues years ago. “They’re an unusual bunch,” she’d been told. “They celebrate with sex. They punish their women withholding sex. They throw sex parties and orgies, and…”

Oh. My. God.
Surely they weren’t going to swap partners?

Cara fondled Tigger’s cock. Tigger, not necessarily handsome but far from ugly, rose to his palms. Flattening his feet against the bed, he shoved his hips forward, forcing his cock down Cara’s throat. Slurping noises filled the room as she gave him head.

Devon carefully observed them, rubbernecking a few times in an effort to see the whole performance.

“Are you always this kinky, Mr. Kardashian?” Victory said, clenching around the toy thrumming inside her.

His eyes darkened. He stopped the wheel and dragged his cock across her mouth, tracing the outline of her swollen lips. “I do enjoy kinky sex, Victory. Can you give me what I need?”

Her pussy vibrated around the toy. Her nipples ached as they became as hard as small gems. She wasn’t sure if she was more turned on by being placed on display or if what really inspired her was Devon. His reaction to her made her heart still. The way he watched Tigger and Cara with male hunger stamped upon his face practically drove her insane.

She wanted to reach out and comfort him. She longed to fuck him, consume every drop of his male heat.

“Let me taste you,” she whispered.

His wide smile broadened, and he approached her with one hundred percent male aggression. He dragged his cock across her lips. Then, without warning, he thrust his dick inside her mouth.

She sucked his hard penis, drawing his size between her cheeks and applying as much suction as possible. Victory was a hands-on person. With her wrists bound, she was at his mercy. Knowing Devon, he wasn’t going to stick around and let her have her way.

Slipping from her lips, he dropped his head over her chest and kissed her nipple, gently drawing the point between his teeth and flipping the bud with his tongue. A jolt of arousal raced through her body, and her hips shot forward.

Cara turned her cheek toward them, nuzzling Tigger’s dick. “How’s that feel, baby?”

For a second, Victory thought she was speaking to her. By the smirk on Cara’s face, that was her very intention. She glanced up at Tigger, continuing to caress his cockhead with her tongue. “Is that nice, honey?”

“You know it, babe,” he assured her, slapping her ass before falling against the bed.

Tigger seemed uninterested in Victory from a gaze-groping point of view. He was all about the experience, and apparently, he was there on Devon’s request.

She wondered then. Did Tigger coax the sheep or was Cara ready to oblige, happy to put aside differences and make amends?

If so, this was a hell of a way to forgive and forget.