Taken by Chance (7 page)

“Lena,” he said.

“Chance, I am so,
so embarrassed, I can’t—”

“No,” he said, and
put one finger on her lips. Startled, she looked up and saw that same
fierceness in his eyes. “That will never, ever happen again. This place will be
safe for you, even if I have to vet the list myself from now on.”

“You don’t have to
do that,” she whispered. “It’s your club, I’m just—”

“I’m glad you
came,” he said.

Lena’s mouth went
dry. He had his arms almost wrapped around her, his hands right at her waist,
drawing her abs up tight with just the sensation of his touch, and his head was
bowed toward hers with those eyes…

They were the
dominant eyes.

A shiver went
through her.

“Chance, I came
here because there’s something I need to ask you,” she choked out. When had
talking become so difficult?

He didn’t answer
at first. He was looking intently at her face, her neck,
her
breasts. She saw his already impressive chest expand with a deep breath and his
jaw harden.

“Good. There’s
something I wanted to say to you, too. How about a do-over on the roof deck?”

Without thinking,
Lena bit her lip.

A do-over?
Of which part?

chapter
6

For the second
time in two days, Chance led the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen up to his
favorite place. Only this time, he was going to make damn sure she felt better
for it.

Richie
fucking Kerns, in
his
club.
That she had to see him here, of all places. He’d been right on
the edge of losing it and Lena had brought him back. Again.
Without
even knowing it.

Just by touching
him. By being nearby. By looking at him and seeing right through him, and
calling out what was best in him: his dominance.

He thought he
might have figured out how that worked. She drew him like a magnet, just
focused his attention, everything he had. There wasn’t anything left for idiots
like Richie Kerns, and instead he was filled with…

Whatever this was.

Holy fuck he
wanted her. He could
smell
her. It
was driving him insane.

But first he had
to explain why he’d turned her away. He had to do what he could to take that
hurt away, because he was damned if he was going to make things worse for her.

He’d figure it
out.

He just had to
remember to think with the right head.

And that got a
whole lot harder when Lena walked out onto the roof garden in that tight, white
dress with her honey skin, surrounded by thousands of golden lights, all of
them showing him exactly how beautiful she was.

“Oh my God,” she
said, spinning around. “This is incredible.”

“Yup,” he said. He
couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Fuck the roof garden.

“Are you sure this
is private?” she asked.

Chance felt his
cock jump awake at that. He forced himself to look away, and it almost hurt.
“Yeah, this is actually mine. Entrance to my suite is on the other end, around
the corner. This,” he said, pointing back the way they’d come, “is a common
entrance I had put in for convenience. No one will come up here without my
permission, but I can lock it if you want.”

“No, that’s ok.”

“
C’mere
,” he said, and led her over to a grassy area with
some plush couches. He thought she might want to sit down after walking around
in those heels, but instead she laughed, kicked them off, and headed right for
the grass.

“Oh, this is
amazing,” she said, walking all over the grass in her bare feet. “I can’t
remember the last time I got to do this.”

“You can come up
here anytime you want.”

She stopped
squishing her toes in the fresh grass and looked at him. There. Right there.
That just finished him. How did she do that? Look at him like she knew what he
was really thinking? Like she knew what her body was asking for?

“You’re sure
you’re not really a nice guy?”

“I thought you
didn’t want nice.”

“I don’t.”

He was losing his
focus already, just losing himself in that face. Her skin almost seemed to
glow, and her eyes were soft and pure sex. Her dress, God, her dress should be
illegal. Pure white, white enough to make him think he could see more, and
hugging every one of those amazing curves.

If he didn’t do it
now, he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Lena, about
yesterday—”

“No, shut up,” she
said very quickly, walking up to where he stood. Chance was so startled by
being told to shut up that he actually did it for a second.

If she wasn’t
careful, she was going to earn a spanking anyway.

“What did I tell
you about your tone?” he said.

She stifled a
smile. “I’m sorry, honestly. Please, please let me go first,” she said.
“Otherwise I’ll never be able to do it. There’s something…oh man, this is
harder than I thought. This is
gonna
be messy.”

But it was the
look on her face—open and vulnerable—that convinced him to keep
quiet.

Every male
instinct was screaming at him that he had this beautiful woman in front of him
that he wanted more than anything else he could name at this particular moment
in time, and he had to fight it every second she was standing in front of him,
being beautiful, and now she was telling him he had to wait a little longer
before he could explain.

God. Damn.

For her, he could
do it.

“I can do messy.”

She smiled. He
felt good. It never got old.

“Ok,” she said,
taking a deep breath. “This thing with Richie, the photos? It’s not just
embarrassing. It’s not just… It’s taken so much from me, Chance. I mean, yeah,
I feel pretty violated, and that has messed me up pretty good. But it’s ruined
my career, too.”

“How?”

“Do you remember
me from anything?”

She had a point.
“No.”

“Yeah. All of my
on-screen roles have been, like, Slutty Waitress, or Ditzy Cheerleader, or,
well, you get the point. Except for a sitcom that got cancelled after one
season. Right, well, shockingly, that’s not what I dreamed of doing. I love
dramatic roles. I write. I think I might be pretty good, too. And I was just
starting to break in as something other than slutty set dressing,
just
starting to get taken seriously as
a writer.”

She was looking
down at the ground now, digging her feet into the grass, her voice sad. He wished
he could fix it for her.

“I was just
starting to believe I could really do it, you know?” she said, looking up at
him so he could see her eyes were wet. “And now I’m a fucking punch line.”

Chance was
starting to put together what was happening, and knew he had only a few minutes
to make a decision. If she really needed his help, he wouldn’t be able to turn
her away.

“Look,” she went
on, “I’m aware of how crazy this is. We just met yesterday, technically. And
part of what’s messing me up is how I was so dumb to trust someone like
Richie.”

Chance shrugged.
“Be fair to yourself. We had a hell of a day yesterday.”

“You going to let
me finish?” she said, throwing a clump of grass at him.

“Might as well.” He
grinned back. “But I’m warning you, you keep talking to me like that, and
you’re going to earn yourself a paddling.”

“A paddling?”

“Or similar.”

She looked at him,
wide-eyed, like she couldn’t tell if he was serious. Let her figure out that he
was. She must know he was a Dom—the only reason he hadn’t taken her over
his knee already was that he wasn’t sure if she knew what it meant.

“I hate that
you’ve seen the pictures,” she said suddenly. “That you’ve seen me like that.
Because that’s not—”

“I haven’t,”
Chance said, forcefully. “No. I told you I wouldn’t, and I didn’t.”

“Then how did you
know?”

“Someone suggested
to me what they contained, and who the man was. That’s all.”

An eyebrow went
up. “Suggested what they contained?”

No way in hell he
was telling her that a thirteen year old had found them on the
internet
. It’s not like she didn’t know that was happening,
but she didn’t need it thrown in her face, either.

“Lena, I don’t
care what’s in the photos. I care that they hurt you. You don’t have to tell me
about them.”

“Yes, I do,” she
said, standing up a little straighter. “He had me tied up in chains. He had a
whip.
Or a flogger?
There are some photos where I’m
flogging him. I didn’t really like that. There are…toys. And honestly, after
that, I’m not really sure. I couldn’t go through all of them. I doubt I ever
will.”

She was looking
him dead in the eye, like she needed to prove something. He had no idea what.
She had to know that none of that shocked him. The only thing he cared about
was that she’d been hurt—and
that
made him crazy.

“Lena, what are
you getting at?”

“I’m telling you
all of this because I don’t want you to think I’m stupid. I mean, I can
understand, right? Like, how could I not be at least a little bit stupid if I
was with Richie? If I let Richie do things like that to
me.
What I’m trying to say…”

She took one more
deep breath, and what Chance would remember is that he could see her shoulders
shaking. That she was really that nervous. Her little golden shoulders were
shaking while she clasped her hands together, looked right at him, and told him
what she needed.

“I was never
hesitant about the kinky stuff. I was hesitant about Richie.
Because
I’ve always been into the kinky stuff.
I’ve always…I’ve always been
curious. And I’ve always wanted to learn, but there’s never been anyone to
teach me. Richie’s bullshit has taken so much from me, Chance, it’s taken my
career,
it’s
taken what little ability I still had to
believe that most people aren’t complete assholes. I won’t let him take this
from me, too. I need to keep this. I need to own it. And you’re the only man I
trust, Chance, because you turned me away, even when you wanted me. Because you
did what you thought was best for me. I don’t care what terrible thing you
think you did in the past, or if you’ve broken other girls’ hearts. I’m not
looking for your heart. Trust me, mine is messed up, too. I need you to help me
own this, Chance. That’s why I came here tonight. I need you to help me become
a submissive. Please…help me.”

chapter
7

Oh God, I can’t believe I said it.

Lena was suspended
in this horrible moment in time, right after those words left her mouth, when
she didn’t know what he would do or what he would say. She could understand why
he rejected her before. She was a woman in a rough spot, he was a (mostly) good
guy, and that’s kind of a weird don’t-go-there situation.

But now she’d just
poured her heart out. She’d just said things she’d never even said to herself.
And then she’d begged him.

She’d
begged
.

“Oh my God,
Chance. Please say something.”

He stood there,
only steps in front of her, but so far away. He had an unreadable expression,
like he was having trouble processing what she’d said. Or like he was weighing
the pros and cons. She couldn’t bear it if he said no. It would just be the
final straw.

Had she been
wrong? Every time she got near him there was this crackling fire, this unheard
of static in the air that made her feel…she didn’t have words for it. She’d
been
sure
he’d felt it, too.

And then she saw
him. The jaw, pulsing. The shoulders squared. Those
eyes
, flashing. Staring straight at her.

His voice was low
and rough. “I’ll help you,” he said.

Lena might have
been embarrassed by how relieved she was to hear that if she hadn’t been overwhelmed
by the immediate thought of what came next.

With
the sight of Chance, a solid column of sculpted muscle, advancing toward her.

“Ok,” she said,
feeling nervous again, so nervous, light and skittish and fluttery. Now it was
happening. Really, really happening. She wasn’t some inexperienced virgin, and
she would never have described herself as shy—ever—so what the hell
was this? Her eyes strayed downward, unable to meet that blue stare, and
she was captivated by a light dusting of fine hair running down his
chest, his abs, all the way to his belt
…

She licked her
lips. “Ok, so, how do we, you know…I mean, I’m on birth control, and I have
test results, and I’ve heard that you guys are super strict about that, which,
obviously, is awesome. And I mean, I don’t, like…have equipment…”

Stop babbling, dummy!

Her voice faded as
his much larger body crowded hers and she gave in to the sheer physical
presence of the man. It was beyond words. Her ability to articulate evaporated
before the expansion and contraction of his chest, his ribcage, his abs, with
every breath, with the male scent of him, now so close, overwhelming her
senses. Some part of her that clung to a sense of control flailed and panicked.
Would she know what to do? Can you fail at being a submissive?

“I don’t know what
to do. I mean
,
do I call you ‘sir?’ Do you tie me up?
Do—”

“Later,” he said,
his voice curt and strong.

He didn’t want to
talk anymore.

The muscles in his
neck twisted and
turned
as he looked her over. She
could feel the heat of his eyes on her, like he was devouring her with that
gaze, inch by slow inch. She swore she could actually, for real,
feel
it, her skin sparking alive in the
wake of that, whatever it was he was doing to her without even touching her.
She was aching and swollen, already, beginning to burn hot.

Suddenly his hand
was in her hair, her head pulled back, his eyes on hers. She couldn’t move if
she wanted to,
held
in place by his grip, and as he
touched his rough fingers to her cheek she actually felt her eyelids flutter.
He ran his hand down her neck, her breasts, around her waist, never taking his
eyes off of her, and by the time he’d stopped she was breathing hard, panting,
fucking
panting
, and her panties were
soaked.

Chance kissed her.
No, he claimed her. Rough, hungry, hard. She melted. Her arms around his neck,
desperate already to have him on her, in her, whatever he was going to do to
her. He moved down, nipping at her neck, and, with a satisfied growl, reached
his long arms down to grab the hem of her dress.

And removed it.

Pulled it up,
over. For a moment she clung to his neck instinctively, but he unwrapped her
arms, held them high above her head, and the dress was gone.
Gone.

This was insane.
She felt safe with a man she barely knew, safe enough to do this? And yet she
wanted it. She
needed
it.

Her chest
shuddered with ragged, uneven breaths as he bent down again, his eyes on her
still, the look of raw, determined need on his face bringing her even higher.
His hands roamed everywhere. Like he was mapping out his territory. He fell to
his knees, his hands moving faster and faster, his mouth on her breasts, her
belly, and then he bit her hip. A low sound tore from his throat and he thrust
his hand between her legs and pulled her thong down to her ankles. Lena felt
her legs buckle and somehow he caught her, folded her in his arms, and spread
her on the grass.

He stood up only
long enough to take his clothes off.

Oh God. Every inch
of him, hard, chiseled. Muscles sliding under his skin as he moved, the telltale
ripple of abs leading her eye down to the most unbelievably perfect cock she’d
ever seen, standing hard and erect.

A beat.
A moment when their eyes locked.
And Lena knew, as if she
didn’t already, that this time wasn’t about abstract power games or rules or
scenes.
Just dominance, in the most primal, feral way.
The two of them wanting each other beyond all thought or reason.
 
This was just…animal.

He was an animal.

He fell on her
like a hunter, his mouth searching out her nipples, her neck, her lips, but he
held back what she wanted most; hovered over her, just out of reach, as she
wrapped her legs around him. She mewled, pulled at him, scrabbled at his back
and shoulders, working herself into a frenzy of driving, primitive need, her
hips rising off the soft grass, feeling nothing but the dull ache that was the
absence of where he should be.

Chance reared back
and slipped his hands under her ass, picking her up off the ground. She arched
at just the anticipation, clawing at the grass under her fingers while he
pinned her with those eyes.

He never looked
away.

His fingers dug
into the soft flesh of her hips as he pulled her onto him while he pushed
forward, impaling her slowly on his full length, eyes boring into her while he
filled her completely. He was big. Big enough that it hurt a little, even with
how slick, how wet, how
ready
she
was, and holy shit, she liked that, too.

“Look at me,” he demanded.
As if she could do anything else. She felt herself clench around him, her core
bearing down on him as what promised to be a massively strong orgasm built
inside her, and the ripples flowed up through her abs, her chest, down her arms
and legs, into her fingers and toes.

“Oh God,” she
heard herself moan. “Please…”

He slid in and out
of her with deliberate slowness, prolonging the delicious feeling of tension
growing inside of her. Torture. Pure torture. She reached forward for him
again, just wanting
more
, not even
thinking coherently, but he caught her hands.

Chance leaned
forward, pushing farther inside her, and pinning her hands to the ground.

“I am in control
of this,” he said. “Always. That is how this works. You are mine. Your body,”
he said, pulling out and then pounding into her, “is
mine
.”

 
His eyes seemed to glow, staring into
hers, and his words filled her with satisfaction as he drove into her again and
again. Her whole body seemed to sing.

“Yes,” she said,
wide-eyed and frankly amazed. She’d agreed to this, she’d
asked
for this, but still she couldn’t help but think,
What
the hell is happening?

“Mine to fuck,” he
said, thrusting into her again, “mine to punish, mine to make come. Fucking
say
it.”

“Yours,” she
panted, almost delirious now, “
Yours
.”

She meant it.
Whatever the hell this was, Chance holding her down and fucking her
mercilessly, owning her, wanting her to know he had total dominion over
her—
yes to all of it
. This was
what she wanted, what she hadn’t had with anyone else. Nobody else made her
feel safe enough to let go. She was helpless to resist.

“Mine,” he rasped.

He dragged the
head of his cock over her g-spot and picked up the tempo, driving her higher
and higher, every thrust punctuating his point, his
ownership
. Just thinking the word sent a shot of pleasure through
her and it put her over the top. She clenched around him so hard she heard him
grunt, her back arching so high off the ground that she felt possessed, her
legs pumping, every fiber of her being gathering together for one moment before
she evaporated into a million points of light.

She let out a
wild, ongoing scream, and
he never, never stopped
. One
hand holding her hands above her
head
now, the other
free to fondle, tease, torment.

“Look at me,” he
said, and she could hear it in his voice, strained, tight. He was close. That
thought sent her spinning upwards again, and the look on his face while he
watched her made her feel like nothing else. Beautiful. Wanted. Safe. Helpless.
His. This man who she’d just met, who seemed to know her body better than she
did,
who
she’d begged to submit to. The man was an
artist with his hips, his strokes hitting her most sensitive nerves, his thumb
teasing a nipple, his eyes, his
eyes
,
seeing right through her, all the time.

“Come,” he said,
driving into her hard, and she did,
again
,
her muscles finding some way to flood her with pleasure, with
him
. Like her body already knew obedience,
like she was meant for this, with him.

He came with her,
watching her, his thick, heavy cock twitching inside her, his huge body
shuddering, his thick fingers digging deep into the turf. The feeling of his
orgasm on her, in her, shattered her. When she came up for air she felt warm
and languid, relaxed and full.

Chance
.

He lay on top of
her, muscles uncoiling, coming back down. The scent of him was overwhelmingly
sexy, and it was all over her. His weight on her—in her, still—felt
just as right while he breathed hard into her neck. She could feel him relax,
muscle by muscle, and she ran her hands over every part of him she could reach,
just checking, over and over again:
mine
.
Whatever conversations they would have, whatever rules there were, however this
actually worked, right now, in a rooftop garden surrounded by countless tiny
lights, she was certain she had made the right decision. His body was hers,
too, for however long this lasted.

She wanted him
again. She wanted as much as she could get. She couldn’t imagine being sated.

How? How was that
possible?

“Chance,” she
said.

He didn’t speak,
but pushed himself up on strong arms, impossibly thick in the dull light,
leaning back on his knees to look at her. She actually mourned a little as he
pulled out, but man, she loved watching him. The muscular planes of his torso
were slick with sweat, shining in the light of the garden. And she loved the
way he was looking at her, like he couldn’t believe what he had in front of
him, like he was thinking already of all the things he was going to do to her.

“Beautiful,” he
said.

He slipped an arm
under her and scooped her up just as easily as if she were weightless. A new
amazing sensation hit her: she was being carried by Chance. She buried her face
in his neck, drunk on his scent, and ran her hands over his buzzed head.

“Where are we
going?” she asked. Her voice was almost starting to sound normal again.

“More,” he said.

She felt a smile
spread across her face and nuzzled deeper into his neck as he carried her to…wherever,
she didn’t even care. Knowing he wanted her as much as she’d wanted him, as she
still wanted him, was intoxicating.

Feeling his
erection press into her again, already, was something else.

He kicked open a
door and carried her into a dark room. It took a moment for eyes to begin to
adjust, and she realized she was thrilled at the idea of not being able to see,
not panicked. That was new.

That, apparently,
was Chance.

He navigated the
room in the dark, from memory—his suite? He’d mentioned a suite. Her
suspicions were confirmed when he lowered her onto cool, soft sheets, and then
dragged her back towards him, so that her bottom was balanced just on the edge
of the bed.

“Lie back,” he
said. “Hands at your sides. Grab hold of the sheets.”