Yield (4 page)

Her entire body was trembling as her fingers slid back into place. Her breathing was loud as she shifted. He caught her under the knees and drew them up so her feet rested on the chair, the glistening folds of her sex hidden behind fingers peeking at him. She arched when he pushed the shirt up, tucking it out of the way. “Move your fingers so I can see how wet you are.”

She flexed her hand out of the way. She was waxed bare and there was a tiny little heart tattooed right on the soft flesh above her clit. Jesus. Fuck. Unexpected. He looked away and exhaled softly. “Beautiful,” he murmured as he sank back in his chair. His hands tingled, wanting to free his cock, to stroke, to fuck. Instead his hand fisted and he looked at her so deep in subspace she had no nerves, no fear. This was Kate trusting and it took his fucking breath away.

As if she knew that was the signal her hand sank down, her fingers resting against her. “Tell me the moment, Katey.”

“Sir, may I?”

“You may but you cannot come.”

He watched, mentally taking a picture of the way she looked when she pushed two fingers inside herself. She bowed sharply, her cry drifting into the night as what so desperately needed to be filled finally was. Her free hand reached back to grab onto the back of the chair, her body frozen.

“Hold it in.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was strained and he watched her thighs tighten as if they had the power to keep her from coming. Watching her battle her body’s need because he demanded otherwise was one of the sexiest things he had seen in a long time. He loved the mind-fuck. No mistake about it, this was one giant mind-fuck. He wished she was naked so he could see her all over in this moment.
His
moment.

“No clit, no coming. I want to see those fingers move as you fuck yourself, I want to hear how wet you are by what takes you over the edge.”

She nodded. Kate licked her lips, her body straining as she began to fuck herself. Jesus Christ. He wasn’t ready for the sight of fingers slowly moving inside her swollen sex, her hips rocking to take the touch deeper, the flush on her cheeks, the rise and fall of her breasts. She was utterly captivating.

“The moment after the last strike, the last cry as she comes. The moment before he takes what is his. The way he looks at her as if he’s absorbing every mark he put on her body, the way she goes limp because the pain has stopped, the mind-fuck has stopped. Where the kink fades but the bond is still there. That one heartbeat where maybe he touches a harsh mark or she whispers his name. That moment that is theirs.” Her fingers began to work faster. “The moment. The moment where they’re stripped bare. That one second as his cock prepares to slide into her. That one heartbeat where it’s perfect. Oh. God! Then he….takes her. Because she’s his. She’s his. Doyle.” Her entire body strained and he watched her go over, her fingers buried deep in her cunt as it pulsed and rippled as she came.

He grabbed the legs of her chair and dragged her forward. He leaned over the chair and covered her hand, pushing her fingers deeper so she cried out, her body jerking at the sensation.

“Mine is the moment of surrender. When I know you’re mine. Lost in the mind-fuck, lost in the pain. That first moment when you sink into it so nothing matters. Nothing but knowing you are safe beneath my hand no matter what I do. When there’s nothing. No past, no barricades. It’s just you, pliant. It’s just you submissive to me whether it’s pain, control or the mind-fuck. That’s my moment. When you surrender all to me. Take your fingers out of your cunt.”

She was gasping so hard for air, he felt her exhales on his mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, her lashes damp from tears. When her fingers slid free, he pressed his in, making her cry out. She was wet and tight, the inner muscles still rippling and convulsing from her orgasm. He held still, watching her body start to come down. He eased his fingers out of her and brushed his thumb over the little heart. “Now tell me what scares you the most at the club.”

He half expected her to say him because she was always running.

“Humiliation,” she whispered and a tear slid free. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

Yeah, that made a lot of sense. “Is that what happened at the club?”

She nodded and a couple more tears made a break for it. “I couldn’t come so he took me into the bar, made me sit there, as he told others that I was a bad sub and…” She swallowed and shook her head.
 

Fucker.

Probably a good thing he had been far away.

Doyle picked her up and sat down in his chair, settling her on his lap as he eased the shirt over her. She wrapped an arm around his neck, her face pressed against him as she lost that happy place. “A good dom considers his sub first, last and always. If the scene isn’t going right, he has to stop it. If a scene doesn’t feel right, Katey, you have the power to stop it if he doesn’t. If some douche canoe takes his inadequacies out on you, you give me his name and I will remind him that shit will not be tolerated. You say red and you walk away. We know you can because you did it last night.”

A watery giggle brushed over his skin and she tightened her arm.

“If you ever let a fucking douche top you again, things will not end with my fingers in your cunt. You got me, Katey Jay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Fuck. He had known she was a complication the minute he had seen her standing in his club, white band on her wrist.
 

“But what if you’re the douche top?”

“Fucking brat.” Her giggles did something to him. Something dangerous.
 

Shit.

****

Kate – 2002

Kate tugged on the front of her shirt. It was so new she could almost feel the price tag at the back. Her jeans were new too, as were the strawberry red sneakers. This morning she had brushed and brushed her hair until it was sleek like the faces in the magazines. Despite all the new clothes bought for this moment, she wanted to crawl into someplace dark to hide.

She was going to meet him.

Just the thought left her a little nauseous.
 

A teacher at school had called in social services shortly after the fire. He had noticed when Kate showed up wearing the same clothes for the third day. That and she had fainted because it had been a long time since something had been in her stomach beside the water from the fountain. She was put with a foster family because she hadn’t given names of any family members. She didn’t know if Mom had family. Mom never mentioned anyone. The only name she ever heard speak was his name when Mom was drunk or high.

Kate might not have given his name if she hadn’t gotten caught stealing her foster mother’s magazine with Jace Jennings on the front. Her social worker was called in when it was deduced that all those missing magazines had been taken by her.

She wasn’t a thief.

So Kate had finally blurted out the secret she held close to her heart because she didn’t want to go to jail, like the foster mother said she would. She had a name to give them.

Apparently he was a very big deal because the social worker, Mrs. Lecia, called some lawyers and next thing Kate knew she was sitting in a fancy doctor’s office with them taking her blood and swabbing her mouth with a Q-Tip.

Now she was meeting him.

Now.

Finally.

There was no hiding place for her now. Mrs. Lecia’s smile was probably supposed to make Kate feel good. She wanted to throw up.

And hide.

Instead she twisted the knot at her wrist. The ribbon was filthy and frayed now, but she wasn’t going to throw it away no matter what anyone said. Once upon a time it had been a bright pink color. Mom had gone to throw it out, but it was pretty so Kate took it, making Mom tie it around her wrist like a pretty, bright bracelet. There was more than one knot now because it kept breaking apart.

The meeting room in the lawyer’s office was big and smelled like lemons. The table seemed as big as the trailer had been. One large window gave a view of downtown Vancouver while the other had some of the harbor where a ferry slowly crawled through the water.
 

The door opened and Kate jumped to her feet. The chair rolled away while she looked for a safe place to go.
 

“It’s okay, Kate,” Mrs. Lecia said, but she wasn’t sure she believed her.

Nothing had been okay for a long time.
 

Then there he was. Kate stopped breathing as she saw him for the first time. This wasn’t a magazine picture. This was
him
. His brown hair was messy, his face a little pale and his eyes had that red look Mom’s got when she drank a lot.

He stopped when he saw her, and he stared at her with his hungover green eyes. She had the same hair, the same eyes, even her nose looked like his.
My dad.
The words whispered through her heart and she wanted to throw herself at him. This was her dad.
 

Her body froze as he looked at her like Mom did. Kate knew that look and something cracked deep inside. He looked at her like she was this unwelcome thing in his life.
 

Her dad spoke for the first time. “Well, fuck.”
 

That’s when she knew while she had weaved fantasies about a Dad who would look after her, he had woven fantasies that she wasn’t his kid, that maybe those DNA tests they had taken were wrong. Only she looked like him. Kate looked just like him.

No wonder Mom always cursed her.

She looked just like him.

Just like Mom, Kate was pretty sure it made him hate her too.

Chapter 4

“Fuck, what a mess.” Doyle shut the door, closing away the noise that had chased him in. He handed her a bottled water and tossed a bag of cheezies on the bed. “Someone almost mugged me for those so you better enjoy every one.”

“Thanks.” She twisted off the plastic lid and took a sip. She was mildly surprised he hadn’t sent her home.

“I tossed your clothes in the dryer. I even got to kick some guy who was passed out in the doorway. Bonus.” He opened the door and brought in one chair, putting it in the corner.

“How late do these last?”

“Until the drugs and booze run out.”

“The cops don’t come?”

“They haven’t yet. Jace tends to invite some of the residents below us so they can’t complain. Five floors down? After that you can’t really hear anything except the random person who screams off the balcony.” He put the other chair in a small nook and shut the door, dimming the noise.

The bottle froze against her lips as she watched him grab the back of his shirt and drag it off. Holy. Shit.

She blinked as she watched thick muscles twist and bulge as he threw the shirt at the chair. The tattoos ended at the ball of his shoulders so his chest and back were free of ink but for a small one over his heart. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him with his shirt off before. Magazines seemed to love having him on the cover, especially drum, rock and roll, and tattoo ones. Considering how impressive his body was, it wasn’t hard to see why.

He even had those sexy diagonal muscles that angled from the hip to the groin, like God was framing perfection. The hard ridges of his stomach bunched as he shoved the jeans down and tossed them aside. Kate’s breath left her in an audible puff of air as she saw him wearing those tight boxer briefs that were insanely sexy on the right man and comical on the wrong. Doyle Kole was very much the right man.

Maybe he needed a few covers without his pants.

His lips curled in a smirk as he walked toward her. No, not walk. That wasn’t walking. He moved how cats in nature shows stalked their prey. She backed up until cool glass stopped her.

He braced a hand above her head, then took the bottle from her. The man even sipped sexily. “You’re looking at me with hungry eyes, Katey Jay.” His lips were wet from the water. “I prefer it to those fearful stares before you flee from me.” He drew a line from her mouth down her neck and between her breasts. “Let’s talk bondage.”

Oh, let’s.
Her knees went watery.

“For or against?”

She cleared her throat. “For.”

“Now it’s already established you like knots, so is rope a yes?” She nodded. “Use your words, Kate.”

“Rope is a yes.”

“Put your hands above your head.”

Licking her lips, she obeyed, the glass cool against her hot skin.

“Cuffs?”

She remembered her words. “Yes.”

“Stay there.”

She watched him walk away, setting the bottle on the round nightstand. The drawer whispered open and she almost slid down the window when she saw the glint of silver handcuffs. She pressed her thighs together, nerves and anxiety dancing a tango with need and arousal. The metal was cool against her wrists as he locked both at once. A shaky sigh escaped as her eyes closed. The cuffs clinked beautifully against the glass.

“Mm, yes indeed. Eyes on me, girl.”

It took a minute to remember she had to open her eyes. Dark eyes watched her and a ripple moved through her sex at the look.

“Now. Let’s talk pain,” he said and she almost came on the spot. His lips curled as if he knew the effect he was having on her. He went through the list from floggers to canes to whips to electricity. She was breathless by the time he was done, her pussy slick and swollen.

“Now,” he said, his voice low as his chest brushed against her aching breasts, “let’s talk about sex.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Vaginal? Anal? Oral?”

Yes
and
please
and
Sir.

“Multiple orifices? How about multiple partners? One cock, two? Will you let me fuck you in the club?” His hand slid under his shirt and she cried out, jerking as his fingers slid over her. “Use your words, Kate.”

“Yes,” she shouted as he pushed two fingers into her.

“I will
always
wear a condom. If I don’t have one, you won’t get fucked. I get tested pretty frequently because who knows what toxic pussy there is on the road, hence a condom. Even the day after I get the all clear, I will wear a condom with you. The minute you slip a wet pussy over my naked cock, things will go badly. I don’t play games. I don’t tolerate them. Do you understand?”