The Sextet - Entanglements [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (17 page)

She knew he was talking about more than a few stitches. Instantly things slid into place, and Hannah got it. His obsession with perfection, his need for control. How hard he was on himself. His cult of perfection had gotten him where he was as a performer but tortured him endlessly. He must truly feel that if he wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t worth a thing. Wasn’t worth being loved. Her anger dissipated, and she understood why he couldn’t face her. Face his mistake.

“You don’t have to be perfect all the time. People will still care about you, you know.” A feeling of calm washed through Hannah. He cared about her. Deeply. And was afraid it wasn’t returned, couldn’t ever be, because he’d messed up or because he might mess up the relationship somehow in the future.

“No.”

“I’m not letting you dump me.”

He blinked at Hannah in surprise.

“Marcus. It was a mistake. An accident. Next time—”

“There isn’t going to be a next time, Hannah. Don’t you get it?”

“I get it.” This was going to be more of a struggle than she’d thought. “You’re a stubborn ass.”

“I know.”

“You can’t stand it if you’re not in total control of everything in your universe.”

“I have to be. Look at what happens if I’m not.”

“Fuck that.” Hannah said, shrugging out of her coat. “Nobody is in control all the time. Things get messy sometimes. All mixed up. Bloody.”

“I can’t.”

Hannah grabbed an oversized silk scarf and tied a double knot in the middle with sharp angry moves.

“Yes, you can, Marcus. I know you care about me. I can see it, even if you’re too damn stubborn to open your eyes and look.”

Hannah knotted one end of the scarf around his wrist, and whether from guilt or shock or the need to be near her, he let her do it. She could feel his hot stare even as she concentrated on tying the other wrist so that both his wrists were attached to the scarf, the big knot in the middle separating them.

“Come on.” Hannah led him backstage by his bound hands, and he followed without a protest.

Approaching the door to the cage where he kept all his props, Hannah said, “Put your hands over your head.” She figured he’d give her a fight, but he did as he was told. Hannah climbed up on a stool and shoved the knot of the scarf through the opening in the door, then closed it so that the knot was on one side of the door and the rest of the scarf, with Marcus’s bound hands, was on the other. He was held fast by the knot and the closed door.

He tugged a couple times experimentally.

“Hannah. What the hell are you doing?”

“Showing you that you don’t have to be in control all the time.”

He tugged harder. “Let me out, Hannah. Now.”

She threw him a saucy grin. “No.”

He tugged even harder, rattling the cage. “Now!”

Hannah could see that being helpless and not in control was affecting him already. He was frantic. But this was the one chance Hannah had of saving this thing, and she was going all in. She ignored his demands to be set free and casually picked up another scarf.

“Hannah, so help me,” he said when she got close to him again. His jaw was clenched, his eyes a little wild. Marcus was genuinely afraid. “Stubborn ass,” she said under her breath again, with a great dose of irritation and a greater deal of affection.

“You’re fired. Untie me.”

“I don’t think so,” Hannah said brightly as she tied the scarf around his eyes. “You need me.”

He let out a deep, tired breath. “Hannah…”

She could hear everything in his voice, guilt, pain, uncertainty. Fear. And a hint of excitement.

Hannah smiled to herself and reached for his belt. “Relax.”

Once his belt was unbuckled and Hannah tugged down his trousers, Marcus grunted softly, and his cock stirred. She slid her hands inside his pants, massaging him though his boxer briefs. It didn’t take but a few seconds for him to become fully erect.

“Hannah.” This time it was a plea.

“I’m here, baby.” She moved her hands around to his backside and shoved his trousers off to pool around his ankles.

He let out a small puff of air. “I don’t know about this.” There was an air of discomfort about his words, but she ignored it and moved forward. She bent and removed his shoes, then tugged his pants completely off.

Hannah unbuttoned his shirt and slid her hands over his taut, toned chest. His hair tickled her palms. Marcus sucked in his breath when she brushed his tight male nipples with her palms, so she moved in closer and put her mouth on him. Marcus’s skin was salty and warm, and she buried her nose in his flesh, wanting to inhale him.

Trapped against the cage, Marcus squirmed, his muscles straining. His erection grew even harder and pressed against Hannah’s belly. She rubbed on him, enjoying the heat and hardness and thinking about what was going to happen next. Slowly, she moved down his belly, pressing hot, wet kisses along the ridges of his abs, her hands trailing where her mouth had been. Circling his navel, Hannah followed the narrow path of hair down until it disappeared into the waist of his underwear. Hannah tugged the elastic down carefully around his cock and dropped to her knees.

“Hannah…” Her name was a groan on his lips now.

She touched him then, taking him into her hand. She stroked his hot, hard shaft softly at first, running her fingers along the ridge on the underside, admiring all the purple veins that crisscrossed there, tracing them with her forefinger.

Hannah moved her fingers around the mushroom cap of his beautiful cock, loving how soft and smooth it was compared to the tangle of veins and ridges of the rest of his cock. She used her thumb to smooth the drop of clear fluid at the tip that let her know just how much he was enjoying her touch.

“Let me go,” he breathed. “I want to touch you.”

Hannah liked bondage play, especially with Marcus. It made her so hot to be tied down and dominated erotically. But she never knew how much she would enjoy returning the favor, being the one to do what she wanted, every move calculated to give pleasure, or deny it. It was heady and sexy and made her even hotter for Marcus than she thought was possible. He was dead sexy when he was dominant, and he was sexy when he was being dominated by her. Hell, he was just sexy, period. Hannah had never had a man push all her buttons so completely and knew that no man ever would if things didn’t work out with Marcus.

“Untie me.”

“No.” Hannah leaned in then and licked him from root to tip.

Marcus gasped, and air hissed between his clenched teeth as if he was in pain. She grasped his balls and massaged them while she moved her mouth over his shaft. He tasted divine, all salt and musk and male virility. Hannah traced the veins with her tongue and sucked the head between her lips.

At some point, Marcus began to thrust his hips a little, driving himself deeper into Hannah’s mouth. She took him all, sucking him deep and hard so that she was filled with him. The sensations, the smell, the texture of him, the heat, all of it coalesced until all her senses were completely consumed with Marcus and only Marcus.

Hannah stroked his thick cock with her hands and her mouth until he stiffened and thrust out his hips, crying out in a deep husky voice so full of pleasure and pain and raw emotion at everything that had passed between them in the past couple of hours that Hannah felt it to her core. Her heart expanded even more to let him fully inside for good.

Slick with need for him, Hannah shot to her feet before he even finished shuddering with his release. She ripped off the blindfold and stood on tiptoes to kiss him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, hungry for him. Needy and grunting, he kissed back hard, and she could taste his lust for her still.

Breaking away, Marcus looked into her eyes. “Untie me.” It was almost a growl and given in a completely different vein than before.

She nodded and opened the door so that the knot slipped out and Marcus was free.

Marcus’s arms were around her and they were on the floor before Hannah even knew what had happened. They came down hard on the bare cement, but his arms were there to cushion the fall. And then he was inside of her, thrusting in quick, hard strokes. Hannah wrapped her legs and arms around Marcus and hugged him tight, urging him on, owning the violence with which they took each other, needing it, wanting more.

It didn’t take long before the familiar tension coiled inside her. She bit his shoulder to urge him faster, and he wordlessly complied, pounding into her, sliding them across the floor bit by bit, doing anything they could to get closer, harder, further inside one another.

Hannah screamed. Pleasure rolled over her in hard relentless waves, tightening her muscles and curling her fingers into Marcus’s hard flesh.

He collapsed on top of her. His breath was fast and heavy in her ear, his face buried in her tangled hair, his arms still locked around her tightly. At some point the scarf had come loose from one wrist, maybe ripped, Hannah wasn’t sure. Didn’t care.

Once his breathing returned to normal and his body relaxed a fraction, Marcus raised his head and looked down at me. “Are you okay?”

He wasn’t just talking about the rough sex. “Yes. I’m fine.”

He raised himself off of Hannah and helped her to her feet. “I’m sorry.”

“You mentioned that.”

Marcus looked at her for another long moment, as if memorizing her features, sadness and regret making his eyes shine too brightly. Then he turned without another word, gathered his clothes, and left Hannah alone on the dark stage.

* * * *

Marcus went directly to his office and closed the door. Getting dressed, he listened hard until he heard the outside door close and knew Hannah had left. He didn’t know if he wanted her to go. He didn’t know if he wanted her come back. It would be better for her if she got in her car and kept driving, though it would surely kill him.

Hannah had been a lot easier on him than he deserved. He knew that. He’d cut her. Made her bleed. She’d trusted him, and he’d cut her. Sure it was an accident. He’d never hurt her on purpose, would he?

Marcus pulled on his clothes angrily. There had been a lot of women in his life. Temporary women. Women he didn’t have to trust because he knew they wouldn’t be around that long anyway. They’d be there long enough to get some press, some meals, maybe the infamy of dating him and a couple of visits to the VIP rooms at the casino. Then once they tired of whatever he could give them. They’d be gone.

They were temporary, sexual stand-ins for the woman Marcus had really wanted, but they were safe, he realized. He’d used them, and they had all certainly used him, and for the first time, he realized why both parties had found those relationships appealing on a certain level.

Trust was not something he was good at. It was hard. More frightening than the prospect of someone stealing everything he’d worked so hard for. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go there, yet that’s what Hannah was demanding.

He sucked at accepting the trust of another person, too. Hannah had trusted him not to hurt her, and he’d sent her to the ER. He’d proven to her and to himself that he was not a person anyone could put their faith in. He’d screw it up every time. That was not something he was willing to put Hannah through.

Would it be hard once she left him? He’d been with her almost every day for three years. It wouldn’t be hard, it would be pure torture. Every day he came to work, he would be without her. Every night after the show, he’d be without her. There would be no one to tease him out of his intense moodiness. No one to tell him he worried too much. No one to point out his weaknesses and his strengths, to boost his confidence when it was low and to knock him down a peg when he got too cocky. No one to tell his secrets to.

Except he never told his secrets, not to anyone.

He wondered if it could be Hannah who had lost her key or given it to whomever was in the cage trying to steal his secrets. He didn’t believe she’d do it on purpose. Not after the last weeks. If she’d wanted to use him, to get close to him to get it from him, she would have done it long ago. Wouldn’t she?

Marcus walked out of the dressing room into the empty theatre, still uncertain how he was going to get by without the woman who had come to mean so much to him. But he would. He’d hire another assistant. Train her. Not tell her shit about his act. And that damn wheel. That was going into the garbage.

Marcus grabbed his keys and headed toward the door, if possible even more depressed that he had been when he’d flung the knife that hurt Hannah. He stopped to lock the cage, shutting out the erotic images if Hannah on her knees in front of him, her eyes glowing with trust and affection.