Sympathy For The Devil (24 page)

The blonde on stage was on her knees, her tongue circling the broad head of one man’s cock. Her bare ass was raised, red from the falls of the flogger striking it again and again. A second man knelt behind her, parting the fly of his pants.

“Wider,” he whispered and Tash complied, easily dropping her knees to the sides. Tash moaned as two fingers slid past her folds, probing her depths, and her hips moved with him, lifting from the seat. He pressed a hot, open-mouth kiss on her neck and her head tipped back in ecstasy. She curled her hands into fists, tried to hold back a louder moan, but all rational thought was leaving her and she’d probably let him fuck her right there on the table if it meant she’d have release. He drew tight, hot circles around her clit with his thumb as his fingers thrust in her.

“Beg for it,” he commanded.

She shuddered and squirmed, pumping her hips in time with his fingers. “Please. Please let me come.”

He must’ve heard the desperation in her voice as he ceased his ministrations immediately, withdrawing his hand from between her thighs.

Tash let out a small noise of frustration but didn’t complain, sitting up straighter in the booth seat and swiping hair from her sweat-damp brow.

Devin shifted beside her and pulled something from his back pocket—a folded scrap of black silk. He grasped the corner and let it fall, revealing a blindfold.

She met his intense, dark eyes. A question waited for her—and, like the other times, he was offering her this one out, and afterward control over the situation would be his. An electric thrill ran through her at the thought of being blindfolded and she nodded, moving in her seat to give him her back.

Tash was wet and trembling, aching for him, and continued taking deep breaths to calm herself. She closed her eyes as he slipped the silk blindfold over her eyes and knotted it at the back. Blinking, she saw nothing—not even light peeking around the fabric. Fear rushed through her but she maintained some calmness. This required trust and she had that, even if she had to remind herself.

He took both her hands, urged her to her feet, and started away from the table. She kept a hold of his arm and his pace was steady but slow, allowing her time to keep up in her four-inch heels without stumbling. With her sight gone, she focused on what she could hear—the music still playing, voices behind them, the clink of glasses at the bar. She still walked on carpet and the sounds at her back faded—he must’ve been taking her to one of the rooms.

The room she had only glimpsed. Sex rooms. Fear gripped her suddenly and she squeezed his arm. “Devin?”

“Trust,” he said simply.

“I don’t want to fuck other people.”

“We have that in common, then.”

That relaxed her, though only marginally. Fabric rustled and Devin slowed. He took her by the elbow, guided her forward, and again she resisted the urge to take off the blindfold and look. The gentlest pressure on her shoulders pushed her downward; she bent her knees, lowered herself, and swiftly came into contact with something soft and comfortable. A couch or a bed. The scent of freshly washed laundry hovered in the air.

“I’ll be right back.” His fingers traced her jaw, swept past the blindfold to run through her hair. “Leave it on.”

“Yes. Sir,” she said softly.

His steps, though muted by the carpet, were audible enough that she heard them fade as he exited the room.

Tash shivered and fidgeted. It took everything in her to sit there, back rigid, blindfold covering her eyes entirely, without cheating. She didn’t like being at a disadvantage like this—couldn’t stand it. But she held her still and waited.

Hair suddenly prickled along the back of her neck and goose bumps spilled down her arms. The air was charged, the unmistakable sense of someone there impossible to ignore. Tash held her breath, listening.

Waiting.

Whoever was there didn’t speak, didn’t move. If it wasn’t the prickling awareness of another presence there, she’d dismiss it, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her. He said no one else would be involved in the sex part, but what about watching?

She swallowed dryly. “Devin?”

No answer.

Her fingers itched to pull at the blindfold—just to peek, for only a second, but she resisted. Maybe it was a test. Maybe he watched from the doorway just to see what she’d do in his absence.

Still, if he did, he had to know this was driving her damn well
crazy
.

“Is someone there?” she ventured again, thrusting back at the rising nervousness. Though the air was warm in the room, she naturally felt chilled, more goose bumps rising. Her heart hammered and she squeezed her hands into fists, wanting to grab the damn blindfold—

This time she heard actual steps and she turned her head to the right, in the direction of where she thought the door was. “Devin?”

The steps drew nearer.

Just as she was about to ask again, fingers touched her cheek.

Tash flinched and scrambled backward, and her lips parted to scream.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“It’s just me,” Devin said immediately, his voice as calm and soothing as he could make it when neither came particularly naturally to him.

Natasha let out a breath and relaxed, easing back to the edge of the bed. Her shoulders deflated, nervous energy running off her in waves.

What the fuck
? He’d only been gone five minutes or so. “You okay?”

She nodded, albeit shakily. “Yeah. Is there anyone else here?”

There wasn’t, but he glanced around the small room anyway. In a space this size, he’d see if anyone else was around—there was nowhere to hide. Even the bed was just a mattress on a large, rectangular block with no space below it.

“Just us.” He waited but she didn’t ask for an out and made no move to leave. Devin eased down the discreet paper shopping bag to rest at his feet. “Stand.”

Natasha did, though unsteadily at first as she acclimated to moving in the blindfold and heels. His gaze raked over her body, highlighted by the red dress that was suggestive without being trashy. He loved absolutely everything about her—how her body, both athletic and feminine, seemed to summarize her personality as well. She was strong but vulnerable, aggressive but needing to be submissive. She was, in a word,
balance
, and something about her standing there blindfolded, waiting and trusting, softened the dark anger he’d been living with for so long. He didn’t just want her to feel things she never had—he wanted to feel them with her.

He reined emotion in, keeping a tight hold on it as he was used to, and focused on this experience for her. “Take off your clothes. Slowly.”

She reached first for the heels.

Devin allowed a small smile she couldn’t see. “Except the shoes.”

Natasha straightened again and reached for the zipper along the side of the dress. Her movements were slow and unsure but regained confidence bit by bit as she eased the zipper down and let the straps fall from her shoulders. Her hips shimmied, urging the dress down. Fabric pooled at her feet and she left it there, standing for a moment in just her bra and panties.

They matched, both black silk. Practical but with an edge of femininity to them—as appealing as lace or leather may be, he couldn’t imagine her in anything but this. He gave her body a long, appraising look, his cock pressing uncomfortably against his jeans, and heart thudding.

“Everything,” he reminded her.

She moved to her bra, first—unhooking the back with one hand, while the other crossed her chest almost coyly. She let the bra fall, revealing her high, firm breasts. They were perfect handfuls—as he’d felt repeatedly—with nipples jutting forward, begging for his mouth. Next her thumbs hooked on the waistband of her panties and she tugged them over her hips. Once they reached mid-thigh, they fell to her feet, and she stood before him naked.

She didn’t cross her arms or try to cover herself, and as the seconds ticked on, her body language changed: her shoulders pulled back and spine straightened, as if she was on display and being judged. She was, of course, on display, but there was no judgment. Everything about her was perfect.

Restraint. Her pleasure won’t be as great if this is over quickly
.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he asked in a low voice.

“No,” she said, her voice small and uncertain.

“No? You don’t know?”

“No one...ever says that about me.”

“The men around here must be fucking blind, then.”

Color ran up her cheeks. “I don’t think anyone sees me that way, usually.”

“And right now I’m okay with that while you’re standing there ready to be tied or whipped or whatever I want. But you’re more than what you do for a living, Natasha—you’re beautiful and should never deny this part of yourself. You’re perfect and I can’t wait to taste you tonight.”

Silently he reached into the bag he’d brought in the room. Thankfully The Box had a small gift shop of sorts, selling new items for clients who might not have brought any. He’d called ahead from her apartment, while she was changing, and his items had been waiting when he went to pick them up. He selected the black leather flogger and lifted it from the bag.

The carpet muffled his steps as he moved toward her but with the blindfold she was likely hypersensitive to sounds; her head shifted as she listened.

“Don’t you worry, darlin’,” he said in a dark voice. “You’ll get exactly what you need.” He stood at her side, back a few feet, and his grip tightened on the handle. Without warning, he brought the flogger across her ass.

Natasha flinched and gasped. He hadn’t done it hard—again, his intent this time was just to get her used to the feel of it.

“This” time...already assuming there’ll be a next?

He was and he struggled not to think about the implications of that.

Again, he brought the flogger against her. Her nipples stiffened and red bloomed on her ass.

“You need this, don’t you, Natasha?” Again, he whipped her ass.

She panted. “Yes. I need this.”

The flogged slapped her skin again, leather falls caressing her flesh. “And tonight you’re mine. All mine.”

“Yours,” she moaned as the flogger struck again. “Yours, sir.”

He switched angles, slapping the falls across her breasts. Her body jolted but accepted the hit, and he didn’t pause between them now, bringing the flogger again and again against her willing flesh. Red crisscrossed her body—her breasts, her ass, her back, her thighs—and soon they were both panting, his body craving release in hers to the point it was near painful.

It had been too long since he felt
this
—this overwhelming want, desire that took over his every thought. It was like a light turning on in a dark room—
she
was this light, illuminating parts of him he’d thought dead and buried. He cast the flogger on the bed, losing his tightly reined control for just long enough to reach for her, grasp a handful of her hair and tip her head back. Her lips parted in a gasp and the silk blindfold still hid her eyes.

He let out a shuddering her breath, his body aching for hers, and his free hand moved down the front of her body to delve between her legs, swirling the pads of his fingers through her cream. Every inch of her body responded to his touch, writhing and hypersensitive from the flogger.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he breathed in her ear.

“Oh God, I want it,” she groaned, her hips pulsing to rub her pussy against his fingers. “I want you, sir. Please.”

He kissed her and she didn’t fight, didn’t try to take control, just opened to him wholly and yielded. Receptive, like she’d truly let go.

She was ready, but still he wanted to stretch this out, knowing how delayed release would be even more delicious.

****

Tash’s body was on fire. The heat from the flogger on her skin was pleasant, sending tingles of bliss straight to her pussy. It was all she could do to keep her hands at her sides and not reach for him as he touched her, kissed her hard enough to steal her breath. Right when she thought this might be it, that he’d let her come at last, he backed off. His sudden absence brought cool air to her flushed skin.

“Lie down,” he said, his rich voice commanding and diving right into her marrow.

Shakily she reached to the right, feeling for the mattress. Once her fingers sank into the soft, silky material, she had her bearings and she turned to press her knees down. What a sight she must make, exposed and on display, and she blushed anew. She felt her way onto the bed, crawling until she was roughly on the center, and then she turned and leaned back. The surface was large enough that she didn’t encounter any walls.

She must’ve been positioned correctly as he didn’t adjust her at all. “Hands above your head.”

Tash complied, reaching up with both hands. Immediately he grasped her wrists and she felt something close around them—soft but firm, warm and smooth. Leather cuffs, perhaps. Chain rattled and he stretched her arms farther as he secured the bindings to something beyond her head.

The position thrust her breasts up and cool air danced over her skin. He didn’t bind her ankles, but left them free in her borrowed strappy heels. Other than the slight rustle of movement to her left, she had no idea where he was or what was happening and as much as she wished she could see, the blindfold changed things, as if shutting off her vision allowed her to shut off part of her overworked mind. There was literally little else to do but simply feel.

Hands cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples into painfully hard peaks. “This might hurt, slightly, but it’ll feel good. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, as automatic now as breathing.

Something cold touched her nipples and she flinched. He held still as she calmed, and then pressure on them increased until they were painfully tight.

“Trust,” he reminded.

Tash nodded uneasily. His hands were gentle, still pleasuring her flesh as he tightened the clamps on her nipples, and soon pain sharpened into a blissful tingle the way the flogger’s hits had. Something cool rested between them, connecting them so that when she turned slightly, she felt a tug on both breasts—a chain, by her guess.