Free Agent (8 page)

“You’re beautiful like this, at our mercy. We know how to make you feel good.”

He flicked the hard handle of the flogger against her right nipple a few times then came back harder.

She struggled against him, but Frank held her tight, allowing her little range of motion. The pain dulled quickly, but the heightened sensation in that breast was matched by an answering sensation low in her belly. He flicked the handle over her left nipple. This time, she was ready for the sharp bite when the handle came down hard on her sensitized flesh.

“You’re doing great,” Frank crooned in her ear. “Just a little more, and we’ll let you come.”

Holding her head steady, her neck exposed, he trailed tiny bites from her jaw to her collarbone, punctuating each one with words she could hardly comprehend.

“I like seeing his head between your legs. I can smell your arousal, hear him slurping up your juices. You’re so damned beautiful. He wanted so badly to show you off. Now, I see why.”

She closed her eyes, the sensations taking over. Two mouths devoured her, the firm presence of Todd’s wide shoulders between her thighs, the solid presence of the other Dom at her back, the unyielding restraints at her wrists and ankles. It was a potent combination that robbed her of inhibition. Having this man, this stranger to her, watch…. It was beyond anything she had ever imagined.

“Look at him,” Frank commanded, using his hand to force her chin to her chest. “Watch him eat your cunt. You do this to him. He’ll do anything to make you happy, even share you with a man like me. You like this don’t you? You like having me watch you.”

She did. Oh, Christ, she did. The gag captured her moan. She was so close to coming, but she didn’t have permission to. She closed her eyes in an effort to stave off the inevitable. She was going to come without her master’s consent.

“Eyes open,” Frank growled. His hand at her nape insured she could see only what he wanted her to see. He brought the flogger across her body, the strands brushing the top of Todd’s head. The handle, held horizontal, brushed over both nipples then he brought it hard against her breasts, mashing both flat under the leather-wrapped grip.

Pain blinded her. She fought for breath and for sanity.

“Use the pain.” Frank pressed still harder against her tender flesh.

Her nostrils flared in short, staccato bursts with each hard-won breath.

“Center it where it belongs. Use it,” he repeated. “Come for him. Come for me.”

Todd licked her slit, invaded her with his tongue. She couldn’t hold it back. The orgasm assaulted her body with hard waves of pleasure fed by the pain in her breasts and the certainty this kind of pleasure was worth any amount of punishment she might have to endure for having taken it without permission. She closed her eyes, seeing in her mind what she couldn’t see through the blinding pleasure/pain—the self-satisfied smile her master always wore after he made her lose control. The image increased her gratification because pleasing him was the greatest pleasure of all.

The crashing waves gentled to soft rolls, and she realized the pain at her breasts had subsided, and her head was once again cradled against Frank’s shoulder. His cheek was pressed against her temple, his hand stroking her brow in tandem with his reassuring words.

“You’re safe, darlin’. Let it come. Give it all to us. That’s it, baby. Breathe.”

Tears streamed from her closed lids. Todd continued to stroke her pussy with his tongue, loving her instead of trying to arouse. He was always so careful with her, taking her to heights she never fathomed she could reach then tenderly caring for her until she drifted back down.

Love for him filled her heart and warmed her all the way to her soul. Half their time together was gone, and as the days ticked away, she was more and more certain there would never be another man for her. She would allow him to share her with men he trusted, but when he moved on, he would take her heart, her desire with him.

Chapter Eight

Todd lay in bed, watching the single band of sunlight peeking through the curtains creep farther up the opposite wall. It was a good thing the Mustangs had a day off because he was in no condition to play.

Physically, he was sound. It was the non-physical that wasn’t cooperating. The previous night with Brooke and Frank had blown his mind. Her first orgasm would have brought him to his knees if he hadn’t already been there, but her second had done something to him he couldn’t explain.

As her master, he’d known she would do well with Frank watching, and as he’d anticipated, Frank hadn’t sat on the sidelines. He’d been a full participant, using his immense knowledge of women to increase her pleasure ten-fold. But after she’d come down, Frank had started in on her with that wicked flogger of his, taking her back up to the pinnacle. Todd had watched as each strike of leather, expertly applied, left her skin layered with red striations, and through it all, she’d never taken her eyes off him.

She’d looked at him—
to
him—the entire time. Without the ball gag she’d worn during the first session, she could have said anything, but she hadn’t made a peep until Frank slapped her cunt, wrapping the knotted leather from her mound to her ass. She’d spoken one word, “Master.”

The single utterance had been a plea for permission to come, which he’d granted with a nod of his head. Frank administered another slap to her pussy, and she’d given in, accepting the pleasure until it had rendered her as limp as a rag doll.

Her gaze had held him captive, silently telling him she understood. He had invited Frank to join them as much to fulfill her fantasy as to fulfill his own. He’d wanted to watch her with another man.

Her second orgasm and, later, the blowjob she’d given Frank had been gifts for him.

No other sub had ever known him that well. He’d never allowed one to know him that well.

Dust motes swirled in the light that had changed from a soft gold to bright white. In a few short weeks, his professional and personal contracts would expire. He would be a free agent, able to choose to play for and with anyone he wanted.

What do you want?

He propped up against the headboard and let the question sink in.

I want to be happy.

What makes you happy?

“Brooke. Brooke makes me happy.”

He laughed out loud. All the money in the world couldn’t match the way he’d felt the night before just being with a woman who gave everything to him.

Todd swung his feet to the floor, simultaneously reaching for his cell phone. He opened the drapes and looked out at his perfectly landscaped backyard while he made the necessary phone calls.

His agent wasn’t happy, but he’d perked up when Todd had given him the go-ahead to shop endorsement deals—if he was able to convince the Mustangs to keep him.

***

His palms were sweating, for Christ’s sake! Todd wiped them on his pants then adjusted his tie. Jeans were his usual off-day wardrobe, but he figured if he was going to beg, it might go over better if he looked serious.

He couldn’t be more serious. If the Mustangs weren’t interested in keeping him, he didn’t know what he would do. Retire, probably. There was one thing he knew for sure, he wasn’t ready to leave Brooke. She had a successful business to run, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to walk away from it to follow him God knew where. He needed to stay in Dallas.

Maybe things wouldn’t work out with her, but he owed it to both of them to give it more time. If that meant taking less money and a shorter contract, or Heaven forbid, retiring, then that was what he would do.

Walker’s secretary waved him on in. “He’s expecting you,” she said with a smile.

He wished he knew what kind of smile it was—a nice knowing you smile, or relax, it’s going to be okay, smile. Cynthia knew everything that went on in the organization, sometimes before anyone else did. Maybe he should ask
her
about his contract—save himself the trouble of taking back his own words.

“Thanks.”

When Todd entered, Doyle stood.

“Stevens. What brings you here on your day off?” He gestured to a seating area that boasted a sofa and a couple of armchairs grouped around a coffee table.

Todd chose the sofa, and the Mustangs manager sat in one of the chairs. He swiped his hands on his thighs, deciding there was no sense beating around the proverbial bush.

“I’ve changed my mind about leaving. If the Mustangs are still offering a five year contract, at the rate we discussed earlier in the year, I’ll sign.” He hoped the desperation he felt inside wasn’t evident in his voice. At least he hadn’t said he’d sign anything in order to stay. He hadn’t sunk that low. Yet.

Doyle turned his head toward the plate glass window spanning the back wall of his office and overlooking the playing field below. He was quiet so long Todd began counting his heartbeats just to make sure he was still alive. The fact the answer wasn’t an automatic no gave him hope.

Doyle spoke to the window. “Do you want to tell me why you’ve changed your mind?”

Not really
. He hedged. “Several of the players have asked me to stay.”

Turning back to face him, it was clear Doyle wasn’t buying his explanation “Okay, so you don’t want to tell me, but before I go back to the head office with this, I have to know. Will we get one hundred percent from you for the life of the contract, or will you be wishing you’d jumped the fence?”

“I’ll give the Mustangs one hundred percent. If I thought I wasn’t capable of that, I wouldn’t ask you to keep me on.”

Doyle nodded, his gaze searching Todd’s face. The man was good at reading people. He refused to look away, letting the older man see his sincerity.

“I’ll call you.” Doyle stood, and he followed the manager’s lead. “I don’t expect there will be a problem, but don’t take your house off the market yet.”

“I never put it on the market,” he said. And if that wasn’t a sign he never wanted to go in the first place, he didn’t know what was.

***

Patience was something Todd usually had plenty of. He made his living waiting for the right pitch and watching for gaps in the other team’s defense. The trait carried over to his private life as well. Taking the time to build a sub’s orgasm, one thin layer of sensation at a time, never failed to pay off in the end.

Waiting to hear from the Mustangs regarding his contract felt like a slow motion ride through hell. But underneath the hellish uncertainty was a layer of peace he gripped tighter than a baseball bat. No matter what the team’s decision, he would be happy with it. For the first time in his life, baseball was just a game. It was an odd feeling seeing the sport he had loved since he was five years old and swung his first real bat at a real ball on a tee, from a different perspective.

Baseball had ruled his life for almost three decades. When he’d turned nine, his entire family had moved, so he could play in the best Little League organization in the area. He’d chosen his high school based on their baseball program and sought out the most competitive of traveling teams in the off seasons. Baseball had paid his way through college and, as a pro, given him the means to do as he pleased.

He would give the Mustangs one hundred percent on the field if they chose to keep him, but for once, baseball didn’t seem like the most important thing in his life. He’d made the mistake of letting the game hold that position for too long, and like every other workaholic, it had cost him his happiness.

Never again. Brooke had shown him the source of his unhappiness, and he owed it to both of them to see if what they had together was enough for a lifetime.

***

Brooke’s pulse raced as it always did when her master arrived. She tracked his movements with lowered eyes. He wore the black leather pants she loved so much. His feet were bare, and probably his chest, too, but she couldn’t quite see that high unless she cheated and peeked when he turned his back. He always smelled so good, like summer grass with citrus undertones. She’d committed his scent along with so many other details, to memory, knowing the day would come soon when he would leave.

The unwelcome reminder of the finite nature of their relationship made her reckless. She didn’t want to be punished, but anything was worth the risk if it added to her store of memories.

He turned, and the grating sound the zipper on the bag he carried his ‘toys’ in filled the room. Her gaze darted up the length of his legs to his firm ass, then beyond to the broad expanse of his back—gloriously nude. Her inner camera captured the line of each sculpted muscle, layering the image with stored tactile recollections to create a three-D memory.

“Did I tell you to look at me?” he asked, swiveling at the waist. His gaze locked on hers, and she swallowed hard.

“No, sir. I’m sorry. I….”

“You what?” he asked, returning to stand before her.

He towered over her on her knees, but she wasn’t afraid. He might choose to punish her for breaking protocol, but he would never hurt her.