Retribution (6 page)

I wiped the unsettling thoughts from my mind as the elevator approached the fifth floor. The doors slid open, and as a tall brunette entered, I let the tension slowly seep from my body. The doors narrowed toward the center, but a black dress shoe stopped them from completing their slide. Gage's eyes met mine. I sought the farthest corner and tried to fold myself into it—obviously my body understood the threat he represented, even if my heart didn’t, and my heart was beating like a caffeinated little drummer boy.

The elevator stopped at the third floor where the woman got off and left Gage and me alone. The air was instantly stifling, heavy with fear and the undeniable spark of sexual tension. I jumped when he moved and studied my shoes upon the funny look he gave me.

“How's Eve?”

“She's good. They’re letting her come home tomorrow.”

A smile broke out on his face—one so rare I wanted to snap a picture just to have proof that Gage Channing was capable of such a grin. “I’m glad.” The doors opened into the parking garage, and without another word, he exited.

I puzzled over the strange encounter as I approached my car, heels tapping an echo through the deserted garage. Gage backed out of his spot and disappeared through the exit, and as I opened my car door, a voice from behind stopped me cold. I jumped and whirled.

Jody stood there, sporting two black eyes and a busted lip.

“Rick’s been drinking again.” Her mouth trembled, and like a scared child, she folded her arms around herself. “He really had changed, Kayla. He was doing so good.” She dropped her arms to her sides and formed two tight fists. “But you kept him away from Eve, and now he’s going crazy. Why’d you have to be such a bitch?”

I slammed my door. “Don’t you dare put this on me. He’s dangerous.” I shook my head. “I thought we were friends, Jody. Let me help you.”

Her bitter laughter bounced off the walls of the garage. “Friends? We haven’t been friends in a long time. Why, Kayla?”

“I-I don’t know. Eve got sick . . .” And I’d checked out on life for a while. I’d lost touch with everyone. “I’m worried about you.”

“Well don’t. Just quit provoking him already.” She took off toward a bright red Honda parked nearby. The tires screeched as she slammed on the gas and raced through the exit.

Her words percolated in my head all evening, an unwanted distraction that intruded on my time with Eve. I tossed and turned next to her for hours after she fell asleep, unable to stop thinking about my encounters with both Gage and Jody.

It was past midnight when I found myself in his driveway. I needed to figure out why he drew me to him like a magnet, regardless of how much he hurt me . . . would always hurt me. People didn’t change, and I wasn’t about to kid myself otherwise. He’d always be the same sadistic bastard with a taste for my pain. I shut off the ignition, and the utter quiet of the night surrounded me. Haunted me. Ghosts weren’t so easily laid to rest in the still of the night.

Why am I here?

I had no answer—none that made any sense. He’d let me go. I was free . . . yet here I was walking into the lion’s den. My limbs quaked as I approached his door, and I almost turned back. I told myself to turn back, even chanted the words in my mind over and over again as if doing so would be enough to convince me. My traitorous fist wasn’t listening; it rose and announced my presence.

Oh God. Oh my freaking God . . . what the hell am I doing?

I whirled, intending to sprint to my car, but the door opened.

“Kayla?”

Damn. I wished for invisibility as I turned to face him, though I would have settled for the earth fissuring under my feet. The image of him standing there wearing nothing but flannel pajama pants was enough to render me speechless. I’d never seen him in something so casual. I wondered if the fabric was as soft as I imagined. Soft flannel against hard man.

I shouldn’t have come. I should have stayed far, far away.

“What are you doing here?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

He quirked a brow. “You don’t know?” I shook my head, and the edge of his mouth turned up. “What do you want, Kayla?”

You.

Only I had no idea why. He was like a disease, and the bad cells had multiplied and taken over. He’d infiltrated my system, and now I couldn’t get him out. Even now, standing in the freezing cold, my body flushed with warmth as I liquefied between my legs. Some crazy, destructive instinct rose within me, and I catapulted the last step and launched myself at him. Our mouths crashed together, open and hot and ravenous. We kissed like we were possessed, and maybe we were.

At least I was. I heard the door slam behind us an instant before he released me.

“Get on your knees.”

I fell to them without a second thought and reached for the waistband of all that soft flannel. Trembling with impatient desire—and maybe a little fear—I freed his cock and closed my mouth around him. A groan rumbled from his throat, evidence of his tightly held control. He grabbed my head, his hands shaking, and trapped me between them. No way would he allow me control—he was too close to losing it himself.

“Hands behind your back,” he ground out between tight lips. I obeyed, and his eyes, so ridiculously blue, never left mine as he fucked my mouth. “Kayla . . .” His composure fell apart, and his hips took on the rhythm of madness.

I’d never felt so powerful.

He screwed his eyes shut and pushed to the back of my throat, roaring his release as his essence gushed into my mouth. Despite the fact that my panties were drenched, I gagged. Which only meant he shoved his cock deeper. His pleasure wouldn’t be complete without my pain.

Still breathing irregularly, he pulled his pants up, and without a word, grabbed my hand. I followed him down to the basement. His fingers tightened around mine, as if he thought I might change my mind and bolt. I was considering it as we reached the last step. He’d had the damage repaired. The room looked as it always had; painful and cold. A dungeon indeed, though in this case I’d given away the key to my own freedom. I took one look at the St. Andrew’s cross and remembered how he’d buried his face between my thighs, and all thoughts of cold evaporated.

He hoisted me against him, and we fell to the bed where he trapped me between his braced arms. “What’s your safe word?”

I blinked. I hadn’t expected him to give me one. “I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t know much tonight, do you?”

“I know I want you.”

His eyes widened, but then his face settled into the Gage I knew and loved to hate.

“I don’t want to give you the option of telling me no, but I will. Last chance before I gag you and make you mine.”

“I’m already yours.” Anyone who could admit such a thing without breaking down must be insane. Which I was.

“Are you seriously arguing with me about a safe word?”

“Master—that’s my safe word.”

He laughed. “I might have to push you to your hard limits just to hear you say it.”

“You could ask nicely.”

He grabbed my left wrist and stretched it over my head. “I’m not nice.”

“I’m not blind to how cruel you are, Gage.” His name rolled off my tongue, forbidden. He clicked the locks in place and bent down to secure my ankles. I was still fully clothed.

“Don’t gag me.”

“I’ll give you one request. Are you sure that’s it?”

I scrambled to think of all the bad things. The whips, the nipple clamps, the butt plugs . . . actually, those weren’t too horrible. I nodded. “I’m giving myself to you. Give me the right to cry or scream if I need to.” I remembered Vegas and cringed.

Don’t make me hold it all in again.

“Okay, no gags, but everything else is fair game.”

With those words, he wielded a pocketknife and cut the clothes from my body. I’d been naked in front of him too many times to count, had lost all dignity in front of Ian and Katherine, but something about this time, this night, made me feel more vulnerable in my nudity. I was there of my own free will. He hadn’t blackmailed or coaxed me; it was a truth I couldn’t hide from, and being spread out before him brought it to the forefront of my mind.

He slid the flannel down his legs and stood tall, naked and unashamed. Gage was a lot of things, but ashamed wasn’t one of them. His gaze traveled the length of my body, and his mouth turned up in a smile of conquer. He had me right where he wanted me, and suddenly I wondered if he’d been working toward this all along.

“If I asked you to let me go, would you?”

“If you say your safe word. You’re not my slave anymore.”

But I was, in all the ways that counted.

He crawled onto the bed and settled between my legs. “If you say it, I’ll send you home.”

I’d figured as much. It was all or nothing with him. “Sounds to me like establishing a safe word is pointless. If I don’t do what you want, you’ll just punish me for it by denying me.” I yanked at my restraints, but he’d tightened them to the point where my limbs burned from the stretch.

He dropped his face to my stomach, his hair brushing my skin, lips and tongue teasing my belly button. “I don’t want to deny you anything.” His words vibrated against my belly. He lifted his head. “I want to make you come until you’re screaming.”

I had no doubt he’d succeed.

“But I like being in control.” He dipped his fingers inside me. “If you can’t live with that, then you need to leave now.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Good, because I don’t want you to either.”

I couldn’t think or breathe after that. He buried his head between my thighs and flicked his tongue across my clit, teasing for what seemed like forever until my fingers and toes were in a constant curl. He must have kept me in that state for an hour, lapping and swirling me to the edge while his fingers caressed my breasts. Unable to stand it any longer, I begged him with every moan.

He finally pulled away.

“Don’t stop.”

He ignored me and crossed to the other side of the basement, and when he approached the bed again, I knew the games were about to begin. He held three items in his hand; a butt plug, a nasty-looking set of nipple clamps, and a whip . . .
the
whip . . . the one he’d used the night he’d fucked me in front of Ian. It was long and thin, and I’d learned from experience how excruciating the strike of that thing was.

I started sobbing at the sight of it. “Don’t.”

He set the items on the bed, much too calmly, and watched as I pulled at my restraints. He didn’t say anything, just waited until my body went limp and I gave up.

“Why?” I tasted the salt of my tears.

“Because I want you to trust me. I screwed up, Kayla.” He picked up the whip. “Let me show you that you don’t have to be scared of me. You have a safe word. Use it if you need to, and I’ll stop.”

“You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, I do.”

Something in the intensity of his expression terrified me, and I suddenly sensed that this was about more than earning my trust. This was the ultimate tipping point. Either I walked . . . or I stayed and gave him my pain. Pleasure for pain—it was the way he’d always operated, only now he was giving me a choice, and if I stayed, he really would own me.

He released my ankles and wrists. “Stand up.”

I got up and stood before him, trembling and not knowing what to do or say.

Stupid! Say the word and go!

Pressing my lips together, I prepared to form the two syllables that would set me free, but the word lodged in my throat.

“Present your breasts.”

“I-I’m not your slave anymore.”

“I never said you were.” The clamps dangled from his fist, big and clunky and painful-looking.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Why are you doing this?”

“This is who I am.” His face hardened. “Hands behind your back now, or I’ll make the whipping a punishment.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Yes, and you’re going to learn what it is.”

Go, go, go!

I couldn’t budge, couldn’t make my voice work. Slowly, I brought my hands behind me and clasped them together. He bent down and sucked at each nipple until they peaked. He took his time clamping them.

I gritted my teeth, squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath, but the pain didn’t subside.

“Bend over the bed.”

My mind shut down. It seemed like a bad dream, like someone else was obeying his every command. He slipped the plug in, and intense vibrations drowned out the agony of the clamps. And then he was whipping me, blazing caresses against my bottom. It hurt—I couldn’t deny it—but he was holding back, and some of the strikes were so light, they were a tease.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

I obeyed, but lost my balance and almost tipped over.

“Hold onto the footboard for support.” He left a trail of fire down my right butt cheek, and I reached out and gripped the wood, breasts heavy and aching as the chain swung between them.

“Spread your legs.”

His commands continued to come in clipped words, and I followed every one. I didn’t allow myself to think beyond the sting of his whip. If I allowed awareness in, I knew I wouldn’t like what I’d find. The strap snaked around my hip and kissed my crotch, eliciting a moan from my throat. He put more strength into it, and the caress became pain. I cried out—a plea for him to stop . . . a plea for him to continue.

“Master.”

The whip thumped to the floor. “Is that your safe word?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “No. Don’t make me leave.”

He pressed against me, chest to back, groin to buttocks, one hand pulling at the clamps as the other dipped inside wet need. “You’re not going anywhere.” His lips and tongue devoured my neck, and I moaned again, my center clenching as an orgasm built.

“I’m so close,” I whispered.

“Not yet.” He turned me around to face him. “Are you scared of me?”

“Yes.” I said it without hesitation. I was scared of him all right—terrified of what he made me feel.

“You don’t need to be.” He grabbed the chain linking my breasts and tugged. “I want you in my bed.” He picked me up and stomped up the steps, and as we entered his bedroom, I wondered how many other women he’d brought into this room. I couldn’t stop from voicing the question.