Traded for Love (30 page)

Worthy
. It was such a
nice
word for it. I
did
want to feel worthy, of both love and attention. I wanted to be acknowledged for being obedient, yet I rarely felt like Jack appreciated how far I would go for him. I'd already betrayed good sense by sleeping with J.B. I also had given him another chance when I forgave him for cheating.

But wasn't this cheating, too? Was it still cheating if I knew about it and was doing it, too? Was it still cheating if he was my Master who'd given me an order?

Was what I was doing with Drake even
cheating
? We weren't having sex, yet I was still lost in his eyes. I was still close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. I was still allowing his words on sexual desire to stimulate me.

Was I dancing on a dangerous line? What would happen if I crossed it?

(Drake)

“You're awfully quiet.”
That's cause you spooked her with all your intellectual bullshit, Drake
.

“Yeah,” she mumbled before sipping her drink. She perked up and looked over my shoulder.

Jack sidled up beside us. “Well, Master Drake, I think this lady and I will go to the back.” He turned to Emily, “Stay with him. Do as he asks. Those are my orders. Understand?”

Emily nodded. “Yes, Master.”

The couple turned and went toward the back rooms.

Emily's head sunk. “I thought this would be easier.”

“Why don't we go somewhere more private,” I suggested, setting my hand on hers.

She stared at both our hands, her eyes twinkling with tears. “I've been ordered to do whatever you want. If you want to go somewhere private, I will.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean—in that way.”

“You don't want to be in a private place with me?” Her eyes lifted to mine. The whites of them were red, her hazel irises shining.

“I don't want you to do anything in the state you're in. I was merely thinking of your comfort. You're crying, and that's not easy to do in front of strangers.”

“You're right. I would rather be somewhere else,” she admitted.

“I can arrange that.” I turned to Rock. “I'll need that bottle you promised me.” He slid me the bottle of Patron and I took it and a few shot glasses off the bar. “This way,” I said, leading her to the dressing room backstage. It was much more secluded than the other rooms. We wouldn't hear any noise or be disturbed here.

“What is this place?” she asked, wiping her eyes.

“It's the dressing rooms.”

“People perform here?”

“We do BDSM exhibition shows sometimes,” I remarked, hiding the exact details with my ambiguous statement.

She sat on the bed and I took the dressing-table chair. I poured a shot. “Care for a real drink?”

“I kind of
do
want one now.” She reached out for the glass. “You know, I got married last year and wasn't of legal drinking age at the time. I had wine at my wedding and could hardly walk straight.”

I'd known she was young, but I couldn't have guessed that with her curvy figure she was in her early twenties. “How old
are
you?”

“I'll be twenty-two this year.”

“And you never drank before you were twenty-one?” I took a quick shot. “You're a real goody-two-shoes.”

She sipped her shot and made a face. “What the hell is this?”

“Tequila.”

“How'd you drink it so fast?”

“You shoot it. Don't you know how to drink?”

“I've led a sheltered existence. Wine is just about as strong as it's been for me.” She eyeballed the Tequila closely. “So I just drink it?”

“Open your mouth, pour it into the back of your throat and swallow the whole sip. Don't stop to think about the taste,” I instructed.

She laughed. “Just like cum!”

I laughed. “Wow.”

She grinned childishly. “Okay, here goes,” she announced. She did as I told her to do and winced. “Oh my god! It burns!” She stamped her feet, her eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“You get used to it,” I said.

“Another!” she demanded, holding out the glass.

I obliged her, pouring her a second shot. “This should probably be your last one since you're not used to it.”

“Pfft. Whatever!” She took the second shot, blinked and stamped her feet. “God damn that stuff is strong!” She coughed. “Fuck!”

I grinned and took another shot for myself.

“Again!”

“Are you sure? You shouldn't overdo it.”

“What are you, my dad?” She scowled. “Pour!”

Six shots later
she was swaying. The bottle was empty. We were
both
feeling it.

She laid down over the bed, spreading her arms out. “Oh my god. Tequila is the best thing ever invented.” She kicked off her high-heels. I admired her long legs, and noticed that her dress was riding up. Her tanned upper thigh was visible.

I nodded lazily. “Yup. It sure is.”

“What do you suppose they're doing right now?”

“Who?”

“
Them
.
”

“Oh.” I scratched my head. “I don't know.”

“They're fucking.” She sighed sadly. “I wish I could be like Jack.”

“Why?”

“He just does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He's just such a boss of everybody.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “He's always in control of everything and everybody,” she rambled.

“Being in control isn't easy, you know. It's not always fun. It's hard work. I envy submissive types sometimes. They just have to obey and let things move around them.” I spun my glass on its thick base.

“Sometimes I hate the pain,” she said softly. A moment later she emitted a loud sniff, and I knew she was crying.

I staggered over and stood next to her. “Don't cry, Emily. Don't cry.” I reached down and stroked her forehead.

“I'm so drunk,” she whined.

“I'm not—I'm—I'm fucked. I'm fucked up,” I confessed, collapsing on the bed beside her. “I think you're amazing, Emily.”

“You do?”

“You're sweet and sensitive. You're obedient even when he's such an asshole. He clearly has no respect for you if he's putting you through this.”

“Don't talk,” she hiccuped, “talk bad about him.”

“I can't help it. You're amazing and he's a fucker. If I was him, I'd be—I'd be at home with you right now in bed with you.”

She laughed though she was sobbing. “You're in bed with me
now
.”

“You're right!” I exclaimed, bending over her and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She slid her hands away and stared at me, wide-eyed.

Immediately, I doubled back. “I'm so sorry!”

“It's okay,” she said with a sniff.

“No. It wasn't right!” I exclaimed.

She rolled up into a sitting position, then leaned back against the wall. “Don't feel bad.”

“I promise not to kiss you anymore. It's not right. We're both fucking
hammered
,” I reasoned.

“It was nice,” she assured me. “I forgive you.”

We both burst into a long fit of laughter.

“It
was
nice, wasn't it?” I said wistfully, leaning my head on her shoulder. “I know it doesn't mean much because we're both drunk, and I know neither of us will probably remember this tomorrow, but I think I care about you, Emily.” I felt her muscles go rigid beside me. “I think I have since I first met you. I think when you had that anxiety attack, I felt like you needed somebody, and I wanted to be that somebody.”

“You're such a nice guy,” she sobbed. “Jack would have just asked me what's wrong with me and taken me to a hospital.”

“I would have taken you to a hospital, too, if you hadn't had your medication.” I sighed and let my eyelids slide shut. They seemed to weigh much more than my sober eyelids.

“Will you do it again?” she muttered.

“Hm? Do what again?” I thought I'd heard her wrong or missed a word.

“Kiss me again.”

“Oh. Sure!” One would have thought I'd have volunteered to clean her gutters out or something. I eased onto my knees and kissed her forehead again with a loud smack.

I sat back on my haunches, drunk, satisfied and grinning.

Her smile had vanished and now her gaze penetrated mine. “No. Really kiss me.”

I was baffled, nevertheless, I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers.

I wasn't sure how long it lasted, but soon our tongues were mingling. Our hands were roaming, and before I knew it, I was on my back and she was on top of me. Right about the time I felt her hands creep over my crotch, I pulled my head away from hers. “No. No. No.” I stopped her from going further. “This isn't right, Emily.”

“What happened to animal instincts? What happened to being
real
?”

“This is just alcohol talking. We're drunk.” In reality, I wanted her to do all of this and more. Ever since she'd first looked at me sadly from the club doorway, I'd wanted this. But I didn't want it in
this
way. “This isn't real,” I told her. “You don't want this.”

Her face erupted in tears, which was awkward because she was straddling my crotch. Still, I reached up and guided her down beside me. “Just lay here and cry. It's okay to cry. It'll pass.” I stroked her head.

“He's fucking her,” she whimpered. “He doesn't want me.”

I squeezed her to my side while she cried. “I'm sorry. I really mean that.”

Her tears soaked into my shirt, but I didn't let her go. “No matter what he tells you to do, in this room you're always free. Understand, Emily?” She shivered as she wept. “In here, you're only a slave if you want to be.”

(Jack)

I held Chastity close to me. From where my head lay, I could see our clothes strew across the room. I could see most of Chastity's naked body stretched out beside me. Welts striped her thighs and a set of nipple clamps were strung over her ankle, where they'd been discarded as soon as we'd finished.

“How's
this
for aftercare?” I asked with a smile.

She snickered. “It's fine. You've learned a lot.”

“I did my research. I even talked to a few Doms to find out what I was missing.”

“I was afraid you'd go soft on me, but you didn't. I'm impressed, though. You let me choose a safeword. That's some professional stuff,” she teased.

“I'd rather change how I do things than not be able to see you again.” I rubbed her shoulder gently. My thoughts wandered to Emily. I'd almost forgotten she was with me. “What do you suppose they're doing right now?”

“Who?”

“Drake and Emily.”

“I have no idea. Fucking, maybe?” Chastity asked, sitting up and searching her clutch purse for her cigarettes.

“Nah. I don't think she has it in her.” I shook my head.

“What's she like, that wife of yours?” She lit her cigarette and reclined beside me.

I thought of how exactly to describe her. “She's a rare woman: sweet, loyal to a fault, generous.”

“She's fucking gorgeous, too. Prettier than me.”

“That's a crock of shit,” I said with a chuckle.

“You think I'm prettier than your wife?” she asked.

“I think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met.” The crazy part was, I didn't think I was lying.

“She didn't seem happy that we left the room together. What does she think about our arrangement?”

“It doesn't matter what she thinks. It's happening. I've taken measure to ensure she won't disobey me.”

She put out her cigarette in nearby tray. “You don't love her do you?”

“I don't know. I don't think so.” I gripped her arm, afraid to stop touching her lest she disappear.

“Oh Jack.” She smiled and pulled herself onto her knees. Her finger traced over my chest as she looked down at me. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't have a heart.”

“I do,” I said playfully. “It just doesn't have enough room for love inside.” I winked at her.

“Good.” She straddled my lower stomach. “Neither does mine.”

My dick stood at attention, even though it'd only been a few minutes since we'd finished having sex.

I marveled at every curve she presented to me. My greedy hands fed on her round tits. “Fuck, you have got to be the sexiest woman I've ever been with.” I stopped to tweak her nipples, which still bore the marks of the metal clamps.

She smirked in her signature feline way. Her red lipstick had smudged over her cheek and her hair was disheveled, yet she looked even
sexier
in her state of disarray than she had put together. “You're not the sexiest man I've ever been with.”

“Really?”

“His dick was bigger.” Her smile grew to a grin as she lifted her hips and allowed my cock to slide inside of her. My pulse quickened as she took my entire length.

“Even if it
was
, I'm the one inside you right now,” I pointed out. “Other cocks don't matter as long mine is inside you.”

She lifted up and slowly lowered herself down. “What if I fucked you and thought about him the whole time?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Then I'd just have to fuck you harder, so you can't think of him.” I set my hands on her hips and thrust up into her.

“Can you do that, Jack?” she asked, looking down into my eyes. “Can you fuck all the other men out of my mind?”

I steadied her and rolled her onto her back, so I was on top. “I want to,” I confessed. “I don't want you thinking of anyone else while we're together.” I pressed deep inside her and took her wrists captive in my hands. “I want to be the only one.”

When I kissed her, she tangled her tongue with mine. I tasted sex and desire in that mouth, that delectable, sweet mouth that I hungered for when we were apart.

I held her down by the wrists, shoving so hard into her that the headboard slammed against the wall with each stroke.

Soon, her screams filled the room and echoed around us. I buried my face in her neck and tried to forget that I had a wife to go home with. I tried to forget that once this was over, it could be days before I saw my lover again. I never wanted this to end. I bit down on her shoulder, groaning as my teeth dug into the tender flesh there. Her pussy squeezed me in appreciation of the pain.

I held nothing back, and lost myself inside of her. Our bodies trembled in the wake of it. The power of our coupling left us silent.

After I let go of her wrists, she wrapped her arms around me. I let my forehead rest on her collarbone and wished I didn't have to leave.