Traded for Love Page 8

  I laughed. “Using a fake name, huh? You wouldn't be the first. My name is Drake.”

  “Well? How do I get her?” Doe asked impatiently. “I'll give you her for your slave.” He'd pointed to his date.

  I shook my head. “I'm sorry, there's no giving or getting here.”

  Doe's tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “What do you want then? Money?”

  “No. None of the people here are whores, sir.” I was beginning to dislike this jerk. “I meant you have to ask.”

  “Fine. I'm asking,” Doe said.

  “You don't seem to understand, Mr. Doe. I'm not the one you'll have to ask. It's up to Chastity whether she'll give you access to her body.” I looked him up and down. “But since she doesn't know you yet, I'll ask her myself and give you her answer.”

  Doe made no reply.

  “Excuse me,” I said curtly, and ducked out of the hallway back into the dressing room.

  Chastity was sitting upright rubbing lotion on her striped legs. She still wore the lingerie from the scene.

  I retrieved her terrycloth robe from its hook on the back of the door. “Mr. Dark and Mysterious just asked me for you.”

  Her hands slowed to a stop. “What did you say?”

  “I basically told him you weren't mine to give and that I'd have to ask you what you wanted to do.”

  “I'm not sure. Is that okay with you?”

  “Our agreement hasn't changed, Chastity. We're not exclusive. You can be with whoever you want, and if you ever want to stop being with me, you just have to say the word.” I wasn't sure if she could tell how uncomfortable I was with her being Doe. I was trying to hide it, because I didn't want it to affect her decision.

  “Pretty quick to let me go, aren't you?” She snickered.

  “What you and I have is special, but I don't own you. Plus, we both know why we aren't … permanent.” I fixed my eyes on the toe of my boot, as I shuffled it over the floor.

  “I know.” She stood up and came over to me. “I'm sorry. I was just teasing.”

  The kindness in her smile warmed my heart. She was a sweet woman with a gentle spirit. Anyone with sense could see that.

  I knew her better than pretty much anyone else.

  Our story began years ago, when I was a student at NYU. General studies had been the name of the game, mostly because I had no idea where my life was going.

  In terms of relationships, I could never find Ms. Right. It was probably because I was looking in all the wrong places. None of the women I'd dated had been the best fit.

  At the time, I was curious about the BDSM lifestyle. The first time I saw her, she was masked, suspended from the ceiling, bound artfully by ropes, gagged, and blindfolded. The establishment was just some hole in the wall alternative club, but that week, a traveling group of performers was scheduled to perform a show.

  By the time it was over, I was breathless, awestruck by the way she'd gracefully endured the pain. There was something in the way she gave in to her Dominants that made me pursue her.

  She was in town for a month, touring many New York clubs, and I courted her aggressively. When the show moved on, she decided to stay behind with another friend who was tired of the scene. Our arrangement had begun soon after, though I'd forged it out of the hopes for a more long-term attachment.

  I was naturally dominant but unsure of my abilities. It'd taken a solid year of training, and making many mistakes, before I really knew what I was doing. She'd been patient, helpful, and always obedient.

  She brought out the Master in me.

  One thing led to another, but it was a recipe for heartbreak.

  I fell in love with her.

  Unfortunately, she didn't reciprocate my feelings.

  So, I told her that we'd continue our arrangement and she could see anybody she liked. I'd had no interest in other people.

  I'd been determined to wait for her to change her mind. Much to my surprise, over time, my feelings started to wane. I think it was because I began to realize that, while she was generally amazing, talented, and beautiful, Chastity lacked something absolutely necessary to a successful relationship—the ability to love.

  It was a harsh conclusion to come to, I knew. There was simply too much evidence to ignore.

  Doe wasn't the first man she'd smiled for. Some of them had fallen head-over-heels for her, like I had. They demanded they be the only one in her life. A few of them wanted to own her, and some tried to stick around. But, in the end, none of them could handle the fact that when she looked at them, her gaze was empty. There was nothing in her heart for them, neither love nor hate.

  Why did I stay even after knowing she'd never love me?

  That's a little secret of mine, one even she didn't know.

  The swinger club was born out of a strong curiosity. I wanted to see if, eventually, a man would come around that would melt the glacier where her heart should be, one that could make her smile truly mean something.

  She sighed and spent a moment staring into the darkness behind her eyelids. “What do you think?” she asked.

  I pursed my lips, unsure of how to answer. Truth was always the best policy, so I gave her mine. “I think you want to do it.”

  Her eyes slid open. There was glimmer in those boundless orbs, a warmth shining out. “I think I do.”

  “There’s a room open down the hall if you'd like to use that,” I offered.

  She nodded slowly and moistened her lips. “I'm going to get dressed. Tell him I'll be out in five minutes, please.”

  I left the dressing room. Doe was visibly irate. His date seemed unsettled, sad even. I assumed it was her first time.

  “Her answer is yes. Turn right, go down the hall, then enter the first door on the left. She will join your shortly.”

  “Julia,” Doe barked. “Go with him.”

  The woman stepped forward, refusing to look at me.

  He followed my instructions, disappearing around the corner and down the corridor.

  I set my hands on the woman's shoulders. “Julia, is it?” I asked.

  She nodded, still staring at the ground.

  I took her chin in my fingers gently and lifted her gaze to meet mine. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to.” I smiled. “We can just talk if you want. Or maybe you'd like to have a drink,” I suggested.

  “Thank you.” Her words were cold, as was her expression.

  It was then that I noticed the stark difference between the color of her left and right eyes. There were tears glistening on her blackened water-lines, threatening to streak her cheeks with black mascara.

  She swallowed hard. “What?”

  “I'm sorry. I know it's rude to stare, but you have amazing eyes.” I smiled.

  Her lashes fluttered against her cheek and her chest heaved with a rapid breath. “Th-thank you.” Her cheeks turned pink and she stepped out of reach.

  The dressing room door opened behind me and Chastity came out.

  Julia stared daggers at her as she passed by, though she was hardly paid any notice.

  I was envious of Doe. Chastity wore one of my favorite dresses, a pink cut-away with slits over the apples of her breasts. I wondered what she wore underneath, but didn't have much time to wonder before she made for the door down the hall.

  A deep breath escaped me as I raked my fingers through my hair. “Seems like both of the people we care about have forsaken us for the night.”

  Julia shot me a sharp glance. “Is this some kind of joke to you?”

  I held up my hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa there, kitten.”

  She stepped up to me, narrowing her eyes. “I'm not your fucking kitten. Get me?”

  I snickered and cocked a brow. “You know, according to the rules, I'm allowed to put you over my knee for treating me with disrespect.”

  “I don't owe you any respect,” she spat. “You are not my master. He is. The only reason I'm doing this is because he ordered me to. So—” She adjusted her skirt.
“—where will we fuck?”

  I threw my head back and laughed so hard my ribs hurt. “What?”

  She shoved me in the chest and I stumbled back, still guffawing.

  “This isn't funny, motherfucker!” she shouted.

  Rubbing my eyes, I shook my head. “You're hilarious, honey.”

  I heard her sniff and my laughter came to a dead stop.

  She stood there, her fists clenched, allowing the tears, which had collected earlier, to spill out.

  A pang of guilt struck me square in the chest. “Oh … God … I'm sorry.” I stepped forward and took her in my arms.

  “Let me go,” she whimpered. “I don't … want you.”

  “Do you really want me to let go?” I asked.

  Her muscles went slack and she collapsed into me. “It's not fair,” she sobbed. “Fuck!” She beat her fists against my chest.

  I pulled her tighter against me. “It's okay. Let it out.”

  “It's not fair … ” she kept repeating.

  God damn. She obviously loves him, and yet he passed her to another man without a second thought. This woman spit fire when provoked, and yet when it came to the thought of him being with someone else, she shattered to pieces.

  Exactly what kind of monster had I just sent Chastity in to be with?

  (Jack)

  I was fucking tired of waiting. I wanted her now.

  “Fuck!” I cursed through gritted teeth.

  The room was modestly furnished with a queen-sized bed, a side-table, ample lighting, and a spanking bench. I needed more equipment to complete the list of things I wanted to do to her, but I was so impatient that it was beginning to overpower my desire to dominate her. I just wanted to feel her, every tender muscle flexing under my fingertips.

  I was so hard it hurt. This wait was torture. I stood up, determined to go out and get her myself, but as soon as I got to my feet, the doorknob turned.

  She appeared in the doorway, a perfect picture—gorgeous from head to toe, wearing a dress that might have meant something to someone else. It meant absolutely nothing to me. All I wanted was the body inside of it, and I was damn well going to get it.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, I went for her. There was no way she could mistake the complete abandon with which I moved toward her. I couldn't keep up with myself, my blind lust for this woman—and yet she remained still as I closed in on her.

  I pinned her to the door, taking her wrists in my hands and holding them above her head. She appeared as composed as before. Instead of fear, she exhibited an eerie calm. I wanted to attack, to seal the deal, if for no other purpose than to quench the burn inside me, but I couldn't move.

  “Well?” she asked loftily. “Aren't you going to kiss me?”

  My breath caught, disarmed by the question. “What?”

  Her smile widened. “Go on. Kiss me.”

  I was stunned. It wasn't a request or a suggestion, it was … an order. “I—I … ” Stammering was getting me nowhere, but I could do little else.

  My grip on her wrists loosened and suddenly her arms were free. “Maybe you'd prefer it this way,” she said softly, threading her arms around my neck. Her fingers turned in my hair as she cupped the back of my head and pulled me tightly against her. I shuddered at her caresses, so gentle, so subtle. She lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to mine, controlling the pressure of the kiss, demanding access to my mouth, guiding me, showing me exactly how she liked it.

  A groan dragged from my gut, up through my throat, vibrating our lips. No other woman had ever done this. I'd always been in control. I was bewildered, completely destroyed by it, draw in and chained by it.

  I never wanted it to stop.

  But it did end, and it left me incapacitated.

  Her head dropped back against the door, and those brown eyes locked with mine. Leisurely, her hand traveled over my chest, tracing a searing trail to my shirt buttons. She undid each one, disrobing me at an agonizingly slow pace.

  The white fabric folding over her knuckles as she slid her hands over my shoulders. “I wanted to see this chest,” she whispered. “Is there anything you wanted to see?” she asked coyly.

  Without a word, I snatched her away from the door and carried her to the bed. I forced the resistant skirt of her dress up to her waist.

  I hungrily took in the sight of her naked pussy, the partially shaved mound, the delicate swath of blonde curls just above her clit. There wasn't enough time to enjoy all of her. I was too eager, too frenzied to care whether she was completely undressed.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She was wet, ready for me. My eyes glued to her, I swept a hand over her clothed tits. Her nipples pressed up from under the fabric. She watched as I fumbled with my belt-buckle, and then my zipper. Finally, I was free.

  I drove into her without hesitation. She was sinfully tight. Yes, God, yes! More!

  Gasping, I fucked her, desperate to enter her every time I withdrew, desperate to withdraw every time I plunged in deep. There was too much of me and not enough of her. She was surrounding me in every way, from the sound of her moans to the clench of her legs wrapped around my waist.

  Every time I felt myself coming, I willed myself to hold back.

  Though I didn't know her body, I still strove to please her. I wasn't sane enough to wonder why her orgasm mattered. I never gave a shit whether my partners came. Yet, this time was different. I wanted her to feel as crazy as I did. I wanted the lust to burn her just as much as it burned me.

  My eyes opened to study her face. She was looking at me. Her mouth fell open as the blush in her cheeks rose. She brought a hand over my back and dug her fingernails into my skin. With her looking at me, the sting radiating through my muscles almost made me lose it. She was watching me fuck her, watching me teeter on the edge.

  She bit down on her bottom lip, turning it red at the mercy of her white teeth. The volume of her moans rose. Her hand pressed to my cheek. I dipped my head and found the tip of her thumb. I obeyed the urge to suck it. God, did every part of her taste sweet?

  The finger left my mouth as the hand slid down my face. I hadn't seen it coming, but when her slender digits wrapped around my neck and I felt the air constricted, I was sure I was going to pass out.

  Too much. It was too much. I dropped my head back, threw myself into the last few thrusts I could manage and filled her with my come. The heat was intense between her legs, but I stayed there, lodged deep inside her, staring down at her in equal parts admiration and disbelief.

  I'd never given in. I'd never become unhinged.

  Our gazes locked again, our hurried breaths leaving our bodies in tandem.

  “Jesus,” I mumbled.

  Her pink, sugary smile spread between those cheeks again. There was a deviant display of colors and lights in her eyes.

  At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I thought if I could taste her just once, I'd be able to let go of her, but something about the way she looked up at me from the pillows, the way she blinked slowly as she caught her breath stoked the fire again.

  I knew I couldn't ever be satisfied with doing this once.

  I had to have her again … and again … and again.

  And soon.

  To Have and to Hold

  (Jack)

  She sat up on the bed and leaned against the wall. I put myself away and zipped up my pants. As I fastened my belt-buckle, the silence rang in my ear.

  We were halcyon figures, motionless in a universe that spun around us, each fixated on the other.

  I was still in disbelief, still stunned that I'd taken her with such ferocity. It was unlike me.

  For some reason, I found it difficult to look her in the eye. It could have been the way she disarmed me and set me on edge.

  I checked the buttons on my shirt cuffs. “I want to see you again.”

  She scooted to the edge of the bed. “Do you, now?”

  Something about her tone irritated me, but I maintained my calm. “Yes. Tomorrow, if possible
.”

  “What if I don't want to see you? What if I tell Drake to keep you from coming in?”

  I looked into her eyes. “You won't do that.”

  “I won't?” She smiled.

  My heart beat faster. She could do it. She could keep me out. “I'll come back,” I assured her. “I'll keep coming back until you come out, or I can come in. I'll do everything I can to be near you.”

  “Dangerous talk.” She tsked. “Be careful, Mr. Doe, someone might mistake your devotion for obsession.”

  “I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks. I have to be with you again. I don't think you understand.” I strung my jacket over my arm. “I barely understand it myself.”

  “Hm. What would your wife think if she heard you talking like that?”

  My breath caught. “My wife?”

  She nodded her head at my hand. “You forgot to take off your wedding band.”

  She was right, I hadn't taken off the gold band on my ring finger. “My wife … ” I licked my chapped lips. “What my wife doesn't know won't hurt her.”

  “But she saw you come in here,” she pointed out.

  I scoffed. “That woman? She's not my wife.”

  Her sweet expression melted into something seductively wicked. “My, my, Mr. Doe,” she moaned, “you are a bad boy, aren't you?” She crossed her smooth legs at the knee, the legs that had been wrapped around me just minutes before.

  Fuck.

  I choked on the lump in my throat. After a considerable struggle, I regained my composure. “Will you see me tomorrow, or not?”

  Her wicked smile spread wider. “No.”

  I clenched the folds of my jacket, gritting my teeth behind my lips. “Why? Didn't you enjoy yourself?”

  She chuckled. “What if I didn't?”

  “Stop answering my questions with more questions!” I lashed out.

  One of her eyebrows lifted. “I didn't come.”

  She might as well have cut off my dick. “What?”

  “I'm sorry, did I injure your pride?” She stood up. “The fact is, Mr. Doe, while I did enjoy myself, I don't have any desire to have a repeat of this session tomorrow.” She walked to the door and set her hand on the doorknob, but stopped to look over her shoulder. “Good night.”