Taken by Chance (12 page)

chapter
13

Holy mother of God, would you look at
that.

Chance wasn’t
easily shocked anymore, hadn’t been in a long time. But watching Lena pleasure
herself had left him awed. To see her unfold before him like that, each layer
more beautiful than the last, and to know she did it for him? It set his body
on fire.

He’d been feeling
her out for the past few weeks, gently prodding and pushing, assessing her
needs, conditioning her to his control. She didn’t need much
conditioning—she responded beautifully—but Chance wanted to make
sure he had the right approach for her. So he’d been figuring out where her
emotional land mines lay and how best to confront them before they delved into
more intense scenes. He could sense already that her reticence and difficulty
with certain things went beyond what Richie Kerns and Paul Cigna had done to
her, even though the damage from that seemed to be somehow ongoing. He’d had a
hunch about the vulnerability of public display, or even the hint of it, and it
had paid off.

There was
something deeper at play. He’d get to it.

But right now he
was overwhelmed with the sight below him.
With the smell of
her.

Lena’s beautiful
honey skin was darkened with pleasure, her chest rising and falling with big,
air-sucking breaths, her heart beating fast under his hand. She’d fallen
forward into his arms and he’d gently lowered her onto the desk, keeping his
palm on her chest to calm her and keep the connection between them.

Her nipples were
wine dark red where he’d pinched them.

She was fundamentally
gorgeous, splayed out there for him like that. Hell, all the time. And it was
only about to get better.

“Lena,” he said,
putting his free hand between her legs. She’d instinctively draped one leg over
the corner of the desk and the other over his shoulder, giving him full access.

Good girl.

When he rubbed the
pad of his thumb gently over her clit, she moaned—in pleasure, not pain.
She was no longer oversensitive in the aftermath.

Good.

“Look at me,” he
said, unbuttoning his jeans.

She propped
herself up on one elbow, still a little shaky, and opened her eyes. Immediately
she looked at his heavy cock, thick and hard after what he’d just seen, and
throbbing in his hand. The greedy look on her face made him twitch. He stroked
himself once and then positioned the head right at her entrance, nestled in her
inner lips.

Jesus,
still so wet.

Lena’s chest
heaved, with those beautiful breasts bouncing slightly, beckoning him.

“Oh God, yes,” she
said, looking up at him with eager eyes.

He pushed her back
down until she was flat on the desk and moved the head of his cock in slow,
excruciating circles around her entrance.

“Stay down, Lena,”
he said. He wouldn’t tease her for long. Just long enough to get the point
across.

“Yes, sir,” she
said, just a hint of a smile on her lips. He grinned. Just the kind of sub he
liked.

“I know what you
need now, Lena,” he said, sinking into her, watching her chest rise as her back
arched in slow, slow time with him. Her breasts were trembling by the time he
was fully seated inside her. What a sight.

“Yes,
sir,
” she breathed.

Her hips rolled
rhythmically, begging him to move. He grabbed hold of them with his big hands
instead, his thumbs angled up toward her waist and his fingers wrapping around
to her ass. He had a solid hold on her. She wasn’t moving without his say-so.

Lena knew it, too.
She groaned.

“Look at me,” he
ordered.

Those hazel eyes
always held him. Always.

He pulled out
slowly, saying, “Introduction is over. After this, we’re
gonna
get started.” He watched her eyes widen, wondering what he meant, and then he
slammed into her.

She yelped
,
fingers clawing at the papers on the desk while she
squeezed around him like a warm, velvet fist. He watched her face while he
fucked her with hard, deep strokes, slowly at first, picking up the tempo as
her face twisted in that rictus of painful pleasure that he loved to see. There
was nothing like fucking Lena.

He lifted her
bottom off the desk and angled into her as deep as she would let him go and
watched her cry out, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, her ass quivering
in his hands. Her legs kicked out, finding no purchase or leverage, reminding
her how helpless she was in his hands, and he swore he could
see
that take her to the next level. It
spurred him on to fuck her mercilessly, reveling in the fact that she could
always take it as hard as he could give it, and when her orgasm started to take
her, kicking and writhing and running from and to the sensation at the same
time; it was so strong that he felt like he was being sucked inside her whole.
She shuddered as she contracted around his dick, and the look on her face sent
him into orbit, emptying all of himself into her in one last, powerful thrust.

He leaned on her
in the aftermath, his own knees going weak for a second there. When he finally
had the strength to push off and clean them up as best he could, he just stared
at her for a second, lying there in the late afternoon sun, still a little
sweaty, her hair mussed around her face.
His shining girl.

“You ok?” he asked,
running his hands down her body, wanting her to know he was still close.

“
Mmmm
.”

He smiled. Damn,
she looked good like that. Deliciously ravished.

“What do you say?”
he asked.

She opened her
eyes and sighed contentedly. “Thank you, sir.”

Chance was finding
it hard to look away, but he knew if he kept looking at her like she was,
knowing he’d done that, knowing he could do it again, well…he would. If Lena
wanted to, she could make him hard until it hurt and he begged for her to stop.

“
C’mere
,” he said, pulling her up off of the desk so he
could hold her. She complained briefly, but then relaxed into his arms.

“You feel good,”
she said.

He smoothed her
hair down and kissed the top of her head. “You wouldn’t believe how you feel,”
he said. “You are so damn beautiful, it hurts, I swear.”

She put her arms
around him and squeezed. “Keep talking.”

“I see you’re not
so focused on that open door anymore, are you?” he laughed.

She didn’t say
anything, only nuzzled his chest.

Chance always took
good care of his subs afterward, like any decent Dom would, but with Lena it
was just as good, in its way, as sex. He’d come to look forward to it.

“Hey, weren’t you
supposed to be somewhere?” she asked.

He had told her
he’d be gone for part of the afternoon—he was still training Michael,
though he wasn’t sure Billy knew about Volare, and he’d planned to talk to the
man about it. But his time with Lena had gone on a little longer than he’d
expected. He’d be later than usual for Mike, but it wasn’t like the kid was
going anywhere. He’d just do his summer school homework until Chance got there.

“Yeah, I’ll go
when we’re done,” he said.

“Don’t do that,”
she said, pushing off of his chest. It took her a moment to find all of her
clothes, but she dressed quickly. “You had plans.”

He frowned. This
was setting off his Dom sense.

“Taking care of
you afterwards is more important,” he said, pulling her to face him. “You’re
important. And using the imperative with me is not so wise, sweetheart.”

She gave him an
uneven smile, not that bright, blinding thing he always looked for, and put a
delicate hand on his chest.

“I’m fine,” she
said. “You should do the things you want to do. Where are you going?”

Chance put a hand
on her cheek and saw that something about the idea of him changing his plans to
suit her really bothered her. Which meant he’d have to revisit it later and
find out why. But not now, when her defenses were up—again.

“I’m going to the
gym,” he said, and slapped her hip. “Be ready for me when I come back.”

The look she gave
him as he left was priceless.

~ * ~ * ~

Lena couldn’t
believe Chance was going to go work out. The man was some sort of genetic freak
with endurance like that.

Not that she
minded.

She did get a
little nervous when he seemed intent on staying, but it passed. It was the same
panic she’d felt in the shower when she’d agreed to stay at Volare, the same
thing she always felt whenever she started to worry that maybe they were
getting too close, or, worse, that she was starting to depend on him for more
than a BDSM education. Or that she was hoping blur those boundaries that had
been so clear in the beginning—that would be both stupid and disastrous
for her.

She hadn’t
expected an arrangement involving the exploration of sexual identity to be
simple
, exactly, but she was going to
have to start being more careful. It was just too easy to feel comfortable
around him, and to forget because of it.

She had all these
thoughts on her mind, and then when she walked into his suite to use the
shower—he’d seen how much she loved that giant shower, and he’d insisted
she use it whenever she wanted; she wasn’t too proud to turn
that
down—she’d seen the black
bag. It was his gym bag.

In fact, she
checked:
yup
, the gym bag.

Which, now that
she thought about it, looked an awful lot like the bag he kept various BDSM
toys in. In fact, it was the same stupid brand and model of black gym bag.
Chance was the kind of guy who found one thing that worked for him, and then
ordered as many of whatever it was as he needed. That man was lucky he was so
good looking, because he didn’t care about style at all.

But that still
left the problem of the wrong bag.

Which was how,
after worrying about getting entirely too involved with and attached to Chance
Dalton, Lena ended up pulling on some jeans, got some quick info from Adra, and
jogged down Abbot Kinney with the man’s sweaty gym bag slung over her shoulder.

Lena was lucky;
the gym was nearby.
Billy’s Boxing Gym.
It looked like
one of the only places on this stretch of the boulevard that hadn’t been
revamped by eager developers, just the original worn face, a hangdog sign, no
lights outside. It looked like the place reeked permanently of male sweat.
Like Chance’s kind of place.

Still, she wasn’t
going to let him open his bag in front of his buddies and find a spreader bar
if she could help it. She’d just feel bad if she did nothing just because she
was having one of her freak-outs about boundaries or whatever. That was her issue,
not his.

So she pushed open
the old style shop door and stepped inside.

Whoa
. Not air-conditioned.
A gym. In L.A
..
At the beginning of
summer.
Were these people all masochists?

Hard
to tell.
She could barely
see in the dim light after the bright sunshine of the boulevard, but she heard
the weird rhythm of many men pounding different bags, all at different times.
There was some guy on the other side of the open space barking orders—in
a ring?

She heard Chance’s
voice and turned—he was there, over in the corner, closer to the light,
wearing these ridiculous mitts on his hands while a skinny little kid punched
at him.

He was training a
kid. She felt a smile start to spread across her face and tried to quash it.

“Hey, Chance,” she
said from a few feet away. He looked at her just as a bell went off and
everyone stopped what
they
were doing. The sudden
change was unnerving and made Lena feel like she was now an unwelcome center of
attention, but she raised the bag off her shoulder so Chance could see it. “You
forgot something.”

The bell must have
signaled a break. The kid who’d been punching at Chance turned around and
looked at her.

And it was a
terrible, terrible look.

A
look of recognition.

Somehow the past
two weeks of living in a Volare fantasy land where no one cared that half the
country had seen photos of her naked and tied up, where no one mentioned the
fact that Richie had since given a freaking
interview
about it, as though he hadn’t had anything to do with it and was just a
helpless victim, had allowed her to forget. She’d forgotten so much that she
didn’t think, for one second, that if she went into a boxing gym full of guys,
some of them might recognize her.