Two Strikes (2 page)

“That’s all I can give you,” she said. “And even that’s more than I should. If I get caught—”

He smiled and pressed his index finger over her lips to still them. “I won’t let you get caught. I promise.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Better not.”

* * *

The warning escaped Giselle’s lips in a whisper. “Forty minutes.”

Max brushed his hands up her naked arms and caught the stretch of rope binding her wrists on the hook overhead. He whispered back, “An hour.”

“I’ll need to shower. I can’t go back to work smelling like leather and lube.”

“Then I’ll skip the lube.”

She opened her mouth to rebut, but before she could manage getting the words out, he pressed a black cloth over her eyes and deftly tied it over her French braid.

Fuck.

“G may be a queen,” he said for the newbie submissive’s benefit. “But, sometimes she needs to let someone else take control. She doesn’t have to run the universe on her own. Sometimes, she needs people to do things for her without asking. To know what she needs and give it to her.”

Something tickled the inside of Giselle’s legs, and she stifled a moan as he worked it up to her sex.

The end of his crop, probably. He fluttered it ever so gently across her thrumming clit and pressed his free hand against the small of her back.

She startled, but only a bit. It’d been so long since she’d played with Max that she’d forgotten his habits. He knew her limits and always skirted right up to the edges before backing off, but he always did his best not to frighten her.

Fear wasn’t one of her kinks.

“Do you see how relaxed she is? How docile?” he asked the woman.

She must have nodded, because he pressed his hands against Giselle’s waist and turned her, gently, one hundred and eighty degrees so her ass faced the sub.

Hope you’re enjoying the view, girlie.

What was Max up to this time?

“Queen G knows I’ll take immaculate care of her. She’ll want for nothing, but if she begs…”

He gave her ass a light pat with the crop, and her pussy clenched. She’d never thought she’d like a little sting to go with her pleasure until she’d said
yes
to Max that second time they’d run into each other at The Den. He could turn her ass and thighs into a patchwork of welts, and then quickly make her forget the pain with the aid of his tongue and cock.

“She mustn’t beg. Begging means I’m not anticipating her needs. Isn’t that right, Queen G?”

She drew in some air and fought the urge to cross her legs at the ankles. Goddamnit, she was wet already, lubricating her own thighs, and when Max inhaled, she suspected he knew his effects on her.

“Yes, Maximus,” she said, fighting to remain perfectly still, perfectly relaxed, but fuck if it wasn’t hard.

“Two strikes for hesitating. Would you like my crop or my hand to heat your ass?”

Great. He was going to do that reverse psychology shit on her and do the exact opposite of what she expected. What she wanted was irrelevant, because she could never predict how her response would spur him. His mind was like a hedge maze, and if you tried to enter it and map it out, you’d find yourself even dizzier and disoriented than when you started. Going with the flow was easiest with all things concerning “Maximus”—the man ladies often referred to in whispers as the
dark dom
. Giselle didn’t think it was his sexual proclivities so much as all that nearly-black hair falling over his shoulders. An unusual look for a man who was more or less a high-paid cop.

“Shall I make it three?” he asked, and his voice near her ear was practically a purr.

If she had the ability of sight at the moment, she’d probably look down to see a bulge forming in his leather pants. She’d get so hot, so ready for him, and he’d hold himself back until she was ready to give up.

Well, he only had forty minutes. He wouldn’t be holding out all that long.

“Punish me as you see fit, Maximus. I deserve either the snap of your crop or the crack of your hand,” she said, and tried her damndest to keep the amused smirk off her face.

Hand, please.

If he used a hand, he’d not only spank her, but also rub her when he was done. Knead her rear and delve his fingers into her cleft. He’d make it seem like it was all part of his dominance, but the truth was, he loved her ass, and on the rare occasion she let him take her there, he’d whispered a thank-you for it.

Quiet filled the room for a long moment, and then there was a loud smack. She heard the sound of his palm’s strike before she felt the sting of his bare hand.

“One. Two. Three,” he counted, and then his strong hands gripped her ass, parting her cheeks.

With his fingers so close to her pussy, he could probably feel her wetness now.

She could hear his swallow close to her ear, and then his naked chest pressed against her back. “Yes?” he whispered.

“No,” she whispered back. She needed to be able to walk. She had a four-hour shift left, and hobbling down the halls with that cart and nursing a sore ass didn’t sound like her idea of a good time.

“Pity,” he said. He eased away. “Come here. What’s your name?” He addressed the other woman.

Giselle rolled her eyes behind her blindfold. He knew damn well what that woman’s name was. Ms. Gibson would have briefed him thoroughly before he accepted the woman’s companionship for the weekend.

“Dawna,” she said in a quiet voice.

Giselle clamped her teeth and suppressed a sigh.

Max would be on the hunt for a submissive again by Monday. He’d liked them a
bit
inexperienced because they’d come to him with fewer bad habits he’d have to correct, but first-timers drained him. Dawna was either
really
that timid, which wasn’t always a bad thing depending on the dominant, or she was behaving the way she thought Max liked his women. Giselle understood the temptation. Max was gorgeous with that dark hair and those blue-green eyes, and he had a reputation for rocking women’s worlds…assuming they could hang in there long enough. They were always too impatient for him—just wanted the sex without all the lead-up, and Max told Giselle he could always tell. Furthermore, Max liked a little undercurrent of spunk. He liked controlling that sass and cheek inside his playroom, but out in the real world, he found it endearing.

Max always said he needed someone like Giselle, but Giselle wasn’t willing to put up with his erratic schedule and the cloak-and-dagger nature of his job. She wanted to go home to someone every night and wake up in a tangle of limbs. She didn’t want to open her eyes at sunrise and wonder if her lover had come home safe from work. The thought of worrying constantly if Max’s radio silence meant he’d gotten shot
again
and that he was laid up in some hospital didn’t appeal to her. She worried enough as it was.

She and Max were good for each other in a lot of ways, but they couldn’t be together.

Footsteps padded across the polished cement floor, and Giselle could feel the other woman hovering nearby.

“Queen G’s nipples are quite sensitive.” Max dragged the end of his crop around her right areola, and then flicked the tender nipple with his fingers.

She squeaked and couldn’t help it, although she had expected his touch.

He was right. Thirty seconds of nipple torture, and she’d be begging him to bend her over and fuck her soundly.

If he heard her mewling noise, he didn’t address it.

She drew up onto her tiptoes as first her left nipple squeezed inside a clamp, and then the other.

Max skimmed his fingers down between her breasts, and suddenly there was a light pull of both nipples inside their clamps.

She cried out.

Damn him
.

At least he hadn’t added weights this time.

“Tell her, Queen G. Does that hurt you?”

“Yes,” she said honestly. Truth was important, because without truth, a good dominant couldn’t learn how far to push.

“Why do you let me hurt you?” he asked.

“Because the pain will give way to pleasure.”

Indescribable pleasure, because Max knew what the fuck he was doing, and she trusted him to do it. That was the rub. Without the trust, there’d be no room for pleasure.

“Spread your legs for me.”

He nudged each foot a bit farther outward and sucked in a bracing breath.

The sound of that sharp inhale worried Giselle. Where was his typically exquisite self-control, today, and what was he going to do to her
this
time? Use the vibrating wand on her clit and not allow her to move an inch or else risk his discipline again? Bring her to the brink repeatedly only to walk away, leaving her unsatisfied until he saw fit to finish? She’d never been good at holding back her orgasms, and he knew it.

“Grab the rope, Queen G,” he said, and the sound of an unfurling of a zipper made Giselle’s skin tingle with anticipation.

She fisted the rope overhead with both hands, and suddenly his hands were on the backs of her thighs. He picked her up as if she were light as a feather. The tension in her shoulders from her holding her arms overhead eased a bit now that she was a bit higher, her legs around his hips. He spun her back around, and carried her back a few feet to press her spine to the wall. His cock teased at her slit, and even if Dawna didn’t hear Max’s hiss, Giselle did.

Max was becoming unhinged. Odd.

What would he be saying to Giselle had Dawna not been in the room?

“Stand nearby, Dawna. Right there at the side. I want you to watch. To see what you won’t be getting tonight because you don’t want to please me, do you?”

“I do want to please you, I—”

Max must have shot his
dark dom
look at her, because she quieted.

“We have a lot of work to do with you, Dawna. It’ll be a long while before you get a reward. Are you willing to wait for your reward?”

He plunged into Giselle without warning, filling her up and tantalizing her with the pleasure-pain of friction.

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and squeezed the rope overhead tighter.

“Yes!” Dawna said, and her voice was lusty and low. She sounded confident now, but only time would tell if she’d be Max’s right fit, or if she was yet another woman with high hopes and misaligned expectations.

Max stoked Giselle’s craving for him while extinguishing her skin hunger. He gripped her ass as if it were some precious thing, while pounding into her with abandon.

She tamped down the torrent of pleasure, pushing it aside in her mind as if it were some inconsequential thing like her grocery list. Unlike when she played with her toys or with other boys, this time she had to wait for permission, and Max was always disinclined to give it until he’d had his fill.

“On your knees. Right there,” Max said with a hiss, and Giselle vaguely registered the other body in the room moving nearby. “Turn your back to me and wait on all-fours.”

She must have done it, but Giselle couldn’t say for sure. The next thing she knew, Max’s teeth set into her shoulder, and she gasped as he licked up her shoulder and kissed across her jaw to her mouth.

He’d never done that before.

* * *

Max treated every rendezvous with Giselle as if it could be the last time. Some day, she’d find a man who’d meet her needs, and she wouldn’t be around to stoke Max’s confidence or offer him the treat of her body.

When his mouth found hers, she pressed her lips together tight even as he continued his brazen assault on her sex.

They didn’t ever kiss, not really. There were the platonic pecks on the cheeks on the rare occasion they ran into each other in public. In private, they generally jumped right to the main event.

For him, seeing her nude—all lithe and with her flawless skin catching the light just so—did more for him than any touch, any taste. If he ever met another woman who took his breath away the same way, he’d do almost anything to pin her down…short of quitting his job. That he couldn’t do. His work was important to him,
part
of him, so whoever was willing to be his partner in all things would have to be accommodating of disruptions.

For now, he wanted to memorize Giselle’s taste and the feel of her lush lips, because it could be his only chance.

Her lips parted, slowly, and he worked his tongue into her mouth, teasing her as her muscles clenched his dick.

Unusual for him, but he’d started losing his rhythm right as his tongue alighted on her lips.

A symphony of sensation and emotion, and all too much for him.

This was why he always held himself back from his lovers. He refused to enmesh himself needlessly, and being the dominant allowed him control. His Maximus façade was his
shield
and kept him from becoming entangled. Distracted. He didn’t open up unless he wanted to.

He wanted to for once, and couldn’t.

Giselle deserved better than him, and before he left, he’d see to it that she got it.

She began to quake in his arms. She was trying to hard to hold it back, and normally he would have kept stoking, pushing her until tears filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. But now, it was him who wouldn’t be able to hold back. Not with the way her tongue gently chased his, and the sound of her little feminine grunts of pleasure.

“Come now, Queen G,” he said, and his voice was strong and clear, even though his head was so fucked up he didn’t know if he were coming or going. He freed one of his arms, reached between their sweat-slicked torsos, and released her nipple clamps.

She tipped her head back and gasped for air before screaming out her orgasm.

Her scream made him grin as he righted his rhythm and concentrated on the fire in his core and his tightening nuts.

He didn’t know if the scream was for Dawna’s benefit or if he actually affected her that way, but when he glanced at his newbie submissive, he found her stealing a look over her shoulder at them.

Her cheeks were flushed and lips parted. She looked away, and he chuckled. She’d get it for that. She didn’t have permission to watch.

At the thought of wielding his crop over virgin skin, he gripped Giselle’s ass tighter before spilling into her.