Brent sat behind his desk while images of Chaya with her thighs spread, leaning back on his couch, offering her pussy to him, flooded his mind. Jesus, she had tasted like heaven. He could still feel her ass in his hands, still taste her juices on his tongue.
She’d been magnificent. He’d come so damn hard he thought he might die from the pleasure of it. And then he’d instantly felt shame for the way he’d begged her to hurt him. The twisted feeling of longing and guilt that he struggled with every time he came, something that had somehow become a part of him.
Christ, he didn’t want Garrett in his head anymore. Chaya hadn’t seen it, had she? No, he was sure he’d hidden it because she hadn’t looked at him like he was fucked up. She’d given him exactly what he needed and then ordered him to service her.
A shiver of pleasure moved through him. Christ, that one perfect moment when he’d first gotten a glimpse of the dominant Chaya had kept buried, when she ordered him to call her mistress. Fuck.
It was magnificent.
And she’d shown it to no one but him.
Still, he’d tried so hard to distance himself afterward. It had killed him to let her go, to get off that couch after having her cradled in his arms. In that moment, he’d been hers. And she’d been nothing but soft, sated female.
The emotional drop after what they’d done could be hard on both sub and Dom, especially someone new to it like Chaya, and he’d found himself loving every minute of her in his arms, like he always knew he would. She’d curled into him, not bothering to hide the emotion, the affection she had for him, and it had humbled him deeply. God, he’d glutted on the emotions pouring from her tender heart.
But it had equally terrified him.
Under all that fire lay a beautiful open soul.
She’d chosen him to be her first sub.
He didn’t deserve the honor.
Because he was terrified of what would happen if he let her get too close, if he fully let go with her. If she saw him. If he allowed her to believe this could be anything more than a sexual relationship, he’d end up hurting her.
She deserved someone to love her, cherish her. That male wasn’t him. The shadows inside would eventually leach out and tarnish that clean, trusting soul, and he couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t soil her with that kind of darkness.
All those thoughts had plagued him as he’d held her in his arms, run his fingers through her dark hair, listened to her breathe slow and easy in sleep. He’d made the decision, convinced himself he had to let her go, that putting distance between them was for the best.
He’d even managed to keep it together when she walked out of his office and looked at him with those dark eyes, round and questioning at first, then full of attitude and fire the next. And fuck him, his damn knees had gone weak all over again.
All he’d wanted to do was beg her to punish him again, to make him come like she had earlier, in a way he hadn’t in his life. And maybe, eventually, in a way that didn’t make him feel worthless and pathetic.
He’d resisted temptation.
Until she’d headed for the door.
He’d almost lost his mind watching her walk away.
And when she’d turned and ordered him to wait for her after her shift he hadn’t been able to say no.
He didn’t want to.
Chaya was his drug. She was in his blood and he was hooked.
“Shit.” He shoved back from his chair and paced around his office. It would kill him if he hurt her. As long as she knew where things stood, everything would be okay. And when she ultimately came to the realization he was messed up and no good for her, they could move on. Things could go back to the way they were before, but without all the pent-up sexual tension between them.
He groaned. She’d felt so good against his mouth, fingers tugging on his hair, demanding, taking—so perfect. He’d had perfection…and still he hadn’t been able to come without the guilt he always felt for craving pain with his pleasure. It was nothing unusual in this lifestyle, but every damn time he needed it, he felt Garrett’s hands on him, the monster’s cold ministrations forcing him to feel pleasure, feeding Brent’s demon, pumping him full of emotion until he was totally defenseless.
His brain got all twisted with what he’d felt back then, with the desperate need, the self-loathing, and worse, the relief.
Yeah, he was beyond fucked up.
A ding came from his computer, letting him know a new email had landed in his in-box. He shook off his conflicting thoughts and took his seat behind the desk.
Always the slow learner.
The subject line turned every muscle in his body to stone. He knew exactly who it was from before he opened it.
You’re looking for me. You don’t know how pleased that makes me. But you won’t find me, not yet. It’s not time. Anticipation is all part of the fun, yes? I remember how much you liked your punishments, and as you know, disobedience cannot be ignored.
You’ve been very bad, Brent.
Tell your little computer friend to stop searching or the next video won’t conceal your face.
There was a link to a public YouTube channel. Sweat coated his skin and an icy trail slid down his spine.
He clicked it open.
Tied down, his arms and legs were spread wide. He watched himself struggle to break free. Face covered by a leather mask, he frantically turned toward the slightest sound, not knowing what would come next. He was hard, hips rolling, even as he strained against his restraints to get free. A shadow moved in the corner, then a figure came into view. A female. She climbed onto the bed and crawled on top of him. Three others moved into the frame, settling in to watch…
He shut the screen. He didn’t need to watch it. He’d lived it. Two long months before Lazarus had found him and had taken him to the compound.
Coming to terms with his new power would have been hard enough. The sexual turmoil, the longing, the unquenchable hunger. But having that used against him. The disgust, the pain, the terror, he’d felt it all in those months. And his body had betrayed him time and time again.
For him, the worst had been the helplessness, the loss of control. He’d always had submissive tendencies, even before he transitioned, but he’d only just entered the scene and had still been finding his way. Having it used against him had fucked with him in ways he still hadn’t recovered from.
Picking up the phone, he called his friend and told him to stop his search. The last thing he wanted was to put anyone else at risk or make them a target. Brent smiled despite Garrett’s threat of posting more video footage.
He’d well and truly got the fucker’s attention. It was just a matter of time before he came after him.
And Brent would be ready.
Chaya wrapped her coat tight around her body and hustled down the street toward her favorite coffee shop. She’d woken this morning feeling restless and hungry. She couldn’t stop thinking about the punishment she’d given Brent the night before, the way he’d reacted to her orders, her touch.
Just thinking about what they’d done sent a rush of need straight to her core. She’d never expected it to be that way. She’d hoped, but nothing she’d imagined compared to the reality of having a male like Brent bend to her will.
God, she’d gotten off on it so hard, and that was a lot to get her head around.
What did it all mean? What did it mean for them?
Did he want more than just sex? And if he didn’t, could she do that? Could her heart take it if he turned her away again?
“Chaya?”
She jumped at the sound of her name, so lost in thought the city had dissolved around her. Chaya turned to the familiar voice and barely stopped herself from stumbling back. “Victor,” she said. “I mean…Sir?” Calling him that felt incredibly wrong, but she had to play her role. Needed to play this carefully.
He grinned at her, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Just Victor outside The Dungeon, honey.”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, going for shy, not sure if she was pulling it off. When she glanced up at the attractive older male in front of her she tried to see the truth, who he was really beneath the unthreatening features and the at times kind eyes, but she came up blank.
The male revealed nothing.
Her instincts could have been completely wrong, but she didn’t feel as though she was in any danger from him, not right then. And if she’d managed to keep her cover intact, she might be able to salvage her assignment yet.
“Look…” She glanced down, attempting to look coy. Not something she had a lot of experience with. “I’d like to apologize for freaking out on you like I did. And for Brent. I had no idea he’d followed me.” She looked up at him under her lashes and hoped like hell he bought the apology.
He held up a hand, cutting her off. All humor fled from his expression, and surprisingly, only worry and concern remained…or at least that’s what he wanted her to believe. “No. It’s me that should be apologizing. I should have realized you were in trouble. The fault is all mine. I confess it’s been a long time since I’ve played with an inexperienced sub. My expectations were too high. I failed you, Chaya, and for that I’m truly sorry.”
His hands were in his pockets and his distinguished salt-and-pepper hair ruffled in the breeze, making him look younger. “It’s fine, really. I’m fine.”
Yes, he was a demon of interest, but so far Victor had done nothing to make her think he was part of some nefarious plan to take over Roxburgh. Didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous—far from it—which was why she needed to see this through.
“You don’t know how glad I am to hear that.” He tilted his head toward the coffee shop. “Will you let me buy you a coffee and a slice of something sweet perhaps, as a peace offering? I’d like us to still be friends.” He smiled again, all ease and charm, and she found herself smiling in return.
Brent’s words floated through her mind. She’d promised not to see Victor again, hadn’t she? No, she’d only promised not to go to the club. Perhaps a technicality, but he hadn’t played fair, asking her while she was still recovering from the orgasms he’d given her.
But the truth was they weren’t in a committed relationship, and even if they were, she would never allow any male to dictate what she did. This was her chance to find out one way or another whether Victor was a threat.
“Sure. I’d like that.”
His smile brightened and he took her arm and led her inside. He got a table, ordered their drinks as well as a piece of chocolate cake, and settled in the seat across from her.
He tilted his head to the side, eyes fixed on her, a sad smile lifting one side of his mouth. “So…I’ll take a wild stab and assume our arrangement is now null and void? You won’t require me to train you?”
She tried to look contrite. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
He shook his head. “You need to stop apologizing, Chaya. The regret is all mine, I assure you.” He reached out and took her hand. It was cold and smooth. “Submission is a gift. Not just anyone will have the ability to make your body sing with pleasure. I knew almost right away that wouldn’t be me, as much as I wished otherwise. You will make some lucky Dom very, very happy one day.”
No, she wouldn’t. That would never happen.
But if she wanted to learn more about the demon sitting across from her, she needed to keep up the act and get him talking, which meant opening up a little about herself, making him think she trusted him as a confidant at least. “I’d never really acknowledged that part of myself, what I wanted, not until I met…”
“Ah, this…Brent? That was him, the male who came for you last night?”
“That was him.”
“He brought this out in you?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a very lucky man. And you are a very rare find.” He squeezed her hand then released it.
Oddly, his understanding warmed her. “He’s a stubborn ass at times. He’s refused to acknowledge the connection between us until now, and I’m still not sure he’ll ever allow himself to truly let go or to see what’s right in front of him.”
Victor chuckled. “He and I are cut from a similar cloth, I think.”
He held her gaze, full of intensity. She realized she was staring back, staring him down—not the actions of a sub. She quickly glanced down at her hands.
“Sometimes the only option is to push until they fall,” he said into the silence.
She looked up, her heart kicking up a notch at the dark note to his voice. But there was nothing dark about his expression. He smiled. “I’m sure you’d provide a soft landing.”
“Are you implying I’m on the curvy side?” she said in mock affront.
He winked. “In all the right places.” Then he grew serious again. “I understand what it is to love someone, to have them take you for granted.”
“Oh, you have someone?”
He shrugged. “Like you, I feel invisible at times. I’ve loved him for the longest time. I do things to please him that I would never do for anyone else, in some cases things that I regret deeply…still, it’s never good enough…” He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m going on.”
His pain was acute. He was letting her read him and it was deep and real. This was no act. “You’re not. It’s good to get these things off our chests, to talk about it.” She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “You won’t leave?”
“No, I could never walk away.”
“I’m sorry.”
He forced a smile. “Don’t worry about me, honey. I’m tough as old boots.” Sliding a hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a brochure. “I think I told you that one of the galleries I own is hosting an exhibition?”
Chaya fought back her excitement. This was the event she’d wanted to attend. A way to hopefully learn more about Victor.
“I’m showing a few of my own pieces, actually, and thought the subject matter might interest you?” A bit of heat drifted into his gaze.
“You take photos?”
He smiled. “It’s a passion of mine.”
She flipped through the brochure. The images she saw were striking. The focus of the exhibition was bondage. “These are…amazing.”
“I’ll leave your name at the door.” He leaned over the table and kissed her cheek. “I’m really glad I saw you today, Chaya. Like I said, I’d love us to remain friends.” He tapped the brochure. “I hope to see you there.” Then he stood and strode from the coffee shop.
She looked back down. She had every intention of going, even though she was having serious doubts that Victor was any real threat. Maybe if she went to this exhibition she could find out more about him and the people he associated with. Possibly rule him out once and for all.
Brent didn’t have to know.
She took out her phone and hit Grace’s number.