BeyondAddiction (15 page)

“Yes, Sir. I-I understand.”

And she would have to work hard at remembering that—for both
their sakes.

As she stroked herself, the first warnings of her climax
began to rush through her body and she had to bite her lip hard to hold it
back. When she met Cord’s gaze in the mirror, she saw such desire, such hunger
in his eyes it nearly brought her to her knees. For that alone she would hold
back. Do what she needed to please him.

Suddenly he removed his arm and clamped his fingers around
her moving hand.

“Stop.” He pulled both arms behind her and urged her to the
space on the floor in front of the big chair he kept in the room. “Submissive
pose. Now.”

She lowered her body awkwardly, off balance with her hands
still held behind her back. She managed to settle herself and leaned forward
until her forehead touched the carpet.

“Do not move.” Cord’s voice was husky.

She could hear the soft thunk of his boots on the carpet,
the rustle of fabric as he removed his clothes and tossed them onto the chair.
The opening and closing of a drawer. What toys was he getting? Would the
session be all pleasure, or pleasure/pain? She wanted him to discipline her
until he’d pushed every last trace of Brian Willoughby from her mind and body.

But she knew Cord Jamieson would never be that harsh. It
wasn’t who he was, despite the fact he was a very strong Dom. He had a caring,
emotional side that was missing in Brian’s makeup. Yet she knew he was filled
with rage at the moment and doing his best to control it. He’d promised never
to punish her in anger but Brian had interjected something unpleasant into
their relationship. Something Cord was doing his best to get past. When he
spoke, his voice was gravelly.

She would just have to try harder herself, to not push him
to be something he wasn’t, and to distance both her mind and body from Brian.

His legs flanked her and steel kissed her wrists as he
fastened cuffs around them, and then placed her hands by her thighs. In another
moment, manacles circled her ankles and chains fastened them to the cuffs. At
once her nipples hardened. The awkward, immobilizing position caused her slight
pain but she welcomed it. Embraced the ache already burning in her muscles and
the strain on her body. She closed her eyes, letting the familiar, arousing
discomfort envelop her.

She was now completely at his mercy and that was exactly
what she wanted. Every pain she suffered for Cord, every bit of soreness, every
humiliation blotted away a sensation related to Brian.

For a long moment nothing happened and Fallon wondered if he
was just going to leave her there all night.

No, that wasn’t Cord, that was—

Stop it! Stop, stop, stop!

In another instant he lifted her, awkward position and all,
onto the bed, placing her so her feet hung over the edge. She pressed her
forehead to the bedcovers, relishing the discomfort of the position. Tonight
she would welcome anything he did to her if it reminded her how ignorant it was
to entertain any thoughts of Brian. To have any reaction to him, good or bad.
He urged her legs as far apart as he could get them, considering the
restraints, and in another moment, one hand spread the cheeks of her ass. Lube
came next, which meant he wasn’t going to take her there tonight. When he did,
he used her own juices to lubricate her.

A dildo? A plug?

She heard him moving around behind her, heard the water run
in the bathroom sink. In another moment, something cold and wet was pressed
against her anus and a familiar burn began to spread through every corner of
her body.

“This one is larger than usual. I thought it appropriate
since you seem to be so desperate for punishment tonight. But I’ll enjoy
watching you take it. Seeing it stretch your tissues. Feeling your pain.” He
pinched one cheek of her ass. “All right. Take a deep breath.”

Fallon breathed in as deeply as she could. As Cord pushed
the plug slowly into her rectum, he rhythmically slapped each cheek of her ass,
the spreading warmth increasing the searing heat from the toy. The size of it
burned as she took more and more, a blistering sensation that made her juices
flow in her pussy and her clit ache and throb. Fiery spikes threaded everywhere
in her dark channel, like tiny lit matches sparking and burning. Restrained as
she was in an extremely awkward position, every nerve in her body shrieked for
relief. She bit hard into the coverlet to keep from screaming and tears began
streaming down her face. Cord continued the spanking as he pushed the plug
farther and farther into her body.

She heard herself saying, “Please, please, please,” over and
over but wasn’t even sure what she was asking for.

At the point when she knew she couldn’t take any more of the
plug, he finally stopped and she felt a wide knob against her burning buttocks.
The spanking ceased and his lean fingers squeezed her ass around the knob.

“The wide mouth will hold it in place until we’re finished.”
His voice was edged with a combination of strain and lust, even as he gently
stroked one hand down her spine. “Focus on that, and on your Master who
fulfills your needs. Whatever they might be.” He bit gently on the tender spot
where her neck and shoulder joined. “I just hope this punishment you seem to
crave so badly isn’t because of something you plan to do that you know would
greatly displease me.”

“Oh no. No, Sir.” Tears pooled in her eyes again. She was
doing this all wrong. “Not at all.”

“Then let’s just call this a preventive measure.”

The burn had become so intense, between the stretching and
the spankings, it had morphed into a euphoric wave of pleasure. The walls of
her cunt rippled and her clit was one unfulfilled ache.

He slapped her ass once more, hard. She heard the crinkle of
foil, felt his fingers probing her cunt to test her wetness. Then the head of
his cock breached her opening. His hands gripped her hips tightly and she heard
his harsh intake of breath as, with one plunge, he drove fully inside her.

“Aaaahhhhh!”

Even through the comforter she was biting down on, her
scream of pained bliss echoed through the room.

Cord’s fingers dug harder and he pumped into her furiously,
hammering into her body. Between the pounding of his cock, the heat bathing her
buttocks and soreness of her muscles, Fallon’s body was a mass of emotions and
reactions. The intense combination of pain and pleasure pushed her right to the
edge, her body poised to climax, but she clenched her muscles to hold back
until Cord gave her permission.

Relief surged through her when he shouted, “Now!”

The walls of her pussy spasmed and tightened around his
thick, heavy shaft, contracting over and over as her orgasm shook her and Cord
pumped his semen into the latex sheath.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was their harsh
breathing, although Fallon thought as hard as her heart was beating, he would
surely hear. It seemed like forever before he slowly withdrew and slid his
hands down her thighs. She was startled when he placed a soft kiss on each
globe of her buttocks before going through the process of freeing her from the
manacles and cuffs. She hadn’t expected such tenderness under the
circumstances.

But this is Cord, idiot. Remember that.

The clink of metal on metal sounded as Cord tossed the
restraints aside. Then his hands, warm and gentle, eased her limbs from their
stiff positions, massaging the muscles as he did so. Finally, with the same
gentleness, he eased the plug from her ass. He moved away, obviously to place it
somewhere, before turning her over and stretching her arms and legs.

“I’m going to take care of you before we get into bed.” His
words were as soft as his caresses. “I’m going to draw a bath with those
scented healing salts you love so much, and turn on the aroma diffuser with a
little eucalyptus oil. I have some salve to use on your rectum that will ease
the burn. And I’m going to pour a glass of wine for you to sip slowly.”

He moved over her, his mouth barely a breath away.

“I will never, no matter how intense the punishment session,
leave you in pain and discomfort. But Fallon?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Do
not
bring Brian Willoughby into our bedroom
again. Into our house. I want him out of your head, no matter what we have to
do to accomplish that. Do you understand?”

“He’ll go after you when he can’t get to me.” She felt sick
at the thought. “I am so sorry about this.”

“You leave him to me.” His eyes darkened. “I can handle him
with no problem. I don’t care how much power he’s so sure he has. I’m not the
pushover he might think.”

She wet her lips and tried again to warn him. “But—”

He touched a finger to her mouth. “No buts. No arguments.
Understand?”

She nodded, but that feeling of impending disaster still
bubbled inside her.

“Good. If he calls you, don’t answer. If he ‘accidentally’
runs into you, get away as fast as you can.” He brushed damp hair from her
sweat-misted forehead. “I don’t want to be in the position of pushing you to
make a choice, girl. But he is poison to you. We have to wash any trace of him
out of your system.”

If only.

The first thing Cord had done when he’d made the decision to
relocate and buy Comanche Pass Ranch was connect with a good accountant and an
even better attorney. The team he’d worked with for so many years in Dallas had
provided him not only with excellent professional support, but also unequaled
insight into the workings of Dallas society and its business world, and the
backgrounds on the players. He knew if he meant to make a go of the ranch, he’d
have to do the same thing here.

He could have asked Leland Grange to recommend someone but
he didn’t want to get tangled up with a person who might have divided
loyalties. He had a nice chunk of change in Leland’s bank, and the institution
had financed part of the purchase. Of course, he could always pull it all and
go somewhere else, but that would mean going through the financing process all
over again. And Grange would surely be pissed off. Make the process difficult
for him. Right now, Cord needed a friendly business community to make Comanche
Pass work.

Instead he’d asked Rand Morgan, his Dallas attorney and a
partner in a high-powered firm, to recommend someone. That brought him to
Joaquin “Jack” Torres, descendant of Castilian settlers and heir to a family
fortune. According to Rand, there was virtually no opportunity for anyone to
buy his loyalty. Clients had to earn it the old-fashioned way. Jack was smart,
sharp and connected.

And he and Cord had hit it off immediately.

It certainly helped that the man was also involved in the
BDSM lifestyle. In fact, when Cord first moved to the area, Jack had invited
him to a private club as his guest. Too involved in finding a ranch to buy and
getting his project going to accept the invitation, by the time Cord was ready
to check it out, he’d met Fallon and that was that.

Now Jack looked at him from across a table in Club 1836, a
very private, elegant club founded by descendants of people who’d lived there
when Texas won its independence that same year. The membership was exclusive.
When Cord had called to ask for a few minutes of his time, the attorney had
suggested lunch at the club.

“Your party was a huge success,” Jack said now, giving him a
smile.

“Yes, it was,” Cord agreed. “With no small thanks to
Fallon.”

“She’s a winner,” Jack agreed. “Surprising to find someone
with those kinds of skills in such a rural area.” He grinned. “Not to make you
feel like y’all walk around with horseshit on your shoes.”

Cord laughed. “Actually, most days I do. But she really
pulled it off. We’ve already got bookings at the event center for the next six
months, not to mention special trail rides and picnics. I might have to hire on
a couple more hands.”

“Rand said you were sharp and he was definitely right. I
think if you get that new bull you plan to bid on, you’ll bump the working part
of the ranch up another notch too.”

“That’s the plan.”

Discussion halted while the waiter brought their drinks and
took food orders. Cord was looking for a way to broach the subject on his mind
when movement at the front of the dining room caught his eye. Brian Willoughby
had just come in with two men dressed just as expensively. Cord knew men’s
clothing. When he’d begun to make good money, he realized the old saying
“clothes make the man” held a lot of truth. The image he’d projected in Dallas
was the one people who invested money wanted to see.

His jaw clenched and his fingers tightened around his glass
of bourbon.

Jack narrowed his eyes at him. “See something you don’t
like?” He turned slightly, just enough to see where Cord’s gaze was focused.
When he turned back, he had a look on his face as if he’d just swallowed
something distasteful.

“Why do I get the feeling Willoughby’s the reason you wanted
to see me today? I know he was at the party.”

Cord took his time answering, taking a sip of his drink,
setting the glass down carefully.

“Yes, he was. As a matter of fact, he twisted Lee Grange’s
arm to get an invitation.”

“Interesting.” Jack took a swallow of his own drink. “I
wouldn’t have thought it was his cup of tea.”

“Too provincial?”

“You won’t get upset if I say yes, will you?”

Cord’s laugh eased a bit of his tension. “Hardly. I know
exactly what I’ve got and I’m more than comfortable with it. But I have a
feeling he and I are going to cross paths, and I want to be armed with as much
information as I can get.”

“You may need to be armed with more than information,” the
attorney said. He paused as their food arrived and the waiter set their plates
on the table. “So I’m guessing you want a full rundown.”

“I do. His reputation as a coldhearted asshole was known
even in Dallas, but this is his home base. I want to know what people think of
him here.”

“In a nutshell, I’d have to say he’s the most despised
person I’ve ever known. But people figuratively suck his dick because he can
destroy them if he gets pissed off.”

Cord took a sip of water, trying to wash the sick taste from
his mouth. “Yeah, that’s what they say in Dallas too. How the fuck did he get
into such a position?”

“Well, he comes from old money. A lot of it. Both his father
and his grandfather were the worst bastards to do business with you can
imagine.” He sliced off a piece of steak, chewed it thoughtfully. “They saw
something they wanted and they took it. Much of the time they left human
wreckage in their wake.”

Cord raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“The grandfather was a sharpie, a financial wizard with a
magic touch in business. He built the base of Willoughby International by going
after weak companies. Businesses that were failing financially. And gobbling
them up like candy. He’d find a way to force them into bankruptcy then absorb
them. Employees frequently became victims, financially ruined. The human cost
meant nothing as far as the Willoughbys were concerned.”

“How can you keep running a business that way?” Cord shook
his head. “Eventually someone pushes back but it seems no one has yet. Why?”

“Nobody pushed Goliath. It’s like that old question—where
does the elephant sit? Anywhere he wants to. The people who work for him are
terrified but he compensates for his lack of humanity by paying them exorbitant
salaries.”

“So nobody fights back,” Cord guessed, “and nobody
complains.”

“No, they don’t. Going head to head with him in a business
deal has left a lot of people broken and bleeding,” Jack continued.

“Yeah, that was the rumor in Dallas.”

“He gets what he wants one way or another,” Jack added,
“littering the landscape with people devastated by his actions. Rumor has it
he’s the same way with women.”

Cord’s stomach muscles tightened. “Yeah? What do you hear?
Because the rumors in that area are pretty rotten too.”

“The story is, he’s taken the BDSM lifestyle and corrupted
it to suit his personality. He uses only the elements that fit his perverted
needs.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack swallowed another bite of steak then looked at Cord.
“You and I know the rules of the lifestyle, the dictates that ensure a quality
relationship. Especially those key words—safe, sane, consensual. But this guy.”
He shook his head. “The local community won’t have anything to do with him.
Unnecessary cruelty, lack of respect, no trust. And people who cross him barely
live to regret it.”

“So he’s a real bastard in all aspects of his life.” Cord’s
entire body tensed at the thought of Fallon under this man’s spell.

“Absolutely.” Jack took a sip of his drink. “Word is he uses
the need and dependency he instills in his subs to create an unhealthy
environment, rather than participation in an exciting power exchange. He uses
denial, isolation, dependency, anger and control for maximum emotional impact.”

“
Jesus.
”

“I’ve even heard he slips his subs tiny doses of drugs to
keep them pliable and subservient.” He shrugged. “It’s just a rumor but I
wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Drugs?” Bile rose in Cord’s throat. Had Fallon even been
aware of that?

Jack nodded. “I truly believe he was born without a single
human emotion except the driving need for power and control. I actually think
he gets off on destroying people, stripping away their humanity.”

“Nice guy.” But Cord felt disgusted as he listened,
imagining what Fallon had endured at the hands of this man.

“Not someone you want to cross swords with. He’s got money,
power and stature, and controls the fate of a lot of people in this town.”

Cord forked up a piece of chicken, letting Jack’s
information roll around in his mind. “I can’t believe so many people are afraid
of one man.” He looked at Jack thoughtfully. “
You
don’t seem to be.”

Jack shrugged. “My lineage traces back further than his
does, for one thing. My ancestors had a foothold in the area before his even
showed up. My grandfather was one of the original members of the Sons of the
Republic of Texas. All the men in my immediate family are members, including
me.” He glanced at Cord. “Ancestry is a big deal in Texas, and Brian Willoughby
would like nothing better than to be a member of the SRT. He just doesn’t
qualify. And he’s discovered that’s one group he
doesn’t
want to mess
with.”

Like everyone else who lived in the Lone Star State, Cord
knew the SRT, founded in 1893, had an elite membership. To be included, your
lineage had to trace back to those who had settled the Republic of Texas before
it became one of the United States. It wasn’t an organization you could buy
your way into. He could imagine Willoughby’s rage at having the membership
ranks closed to him.

He also knew many of the members were very powerful men in
the state of Texas, financially, politically and socially. They weren’t people
whose bad sides he wanted to be on.

If push came to shove with Willoughby, Cord wondered if he
could count on Jack and his SRT friends to be in his corner.

He hoped so.

“I’d like nothing better than to take that bastard down a
peg or two,” Jack said, as if reading Cord’s thoughts. “He’s run roughshod over
too many people.”

Cord was about to say something when he noted Willoughby
approaching their table. The man gave a sharp nod to Jack, who responded in
kind. Then he turned to Cord.

“If you think you can keep Fallon on your little ranch,
think again. You’ll never be able to give her what I did. Or make her your
possession.”

“I think we have differing opinions on that.” Cord had to
restrain himself from punching the man in the middle of the restaurant. “And
Fallon’s a
person
, not a play toy. I won’t say this twice. Stay away
from her.”

The other man’s laugh was anything but humorous. “Don’t
think so. She got away from me once. It won’t happen again. And if you try to
interfere I’ll destroy you.”

He turned and walked away.

“Damn!” Jack blew out a breath. “I’m guessing the two of you
won’t be sharing a meal anytime soon.”

“You got that right.” Cord was so angry he could barely get
the words out.

“A word of friendly advice. If Fallon means anything to you,
lock her up and keep her out of sight.”

Cord swallowed the taste of bile. ”I hear you.”

Jack’s face was grim. “Like I said before, the BDSM
community has him blacklisted. He’s a destroyer. A user. The landscape is
littered with women sucked in by his power and wealth. And to be fair, his
magnetic personality. Then he destroys and discards them.”

Nausea bubbled in Cord’s stomach.

“One more thing.” Jack leaned across the table. “If he gives
you any more shit, or interferes in your life or Fallon’s, let me know. There
are plenty of people who’d love a reason to take him down.”

“Thanks for that. I really appreciate it but I think I’ve
got it handled.”

I damn well hope.

Jack gave him a nod. “Now. Let’s talk about the results of
that great party and if you need legal help restructuring anything.” He
grinned. “If not, then tell me when I can bring my family out for a look at the
ranch. That’s all Lina’s been asking about since the party.”

“Anytime you want. Just let me know you’re coming.”

They chatted throughout the balance of the meal, Cord
managing to keep his cool until the men separated in the parking garage. He
climbed into his BMW but sat there for a long moment, tapping his thumb on the
steering wheel and trying to tamp down the stew of emotions boiling inside him.

He wanted to take Jack Torres’ advice and lock Fallon away
until he’d erased every effect of Brian Willoughby from her body and mind.
Failing that, he thought about taking his handgun, waylaying the man someplace
and shooting him in the balls.

But he knew neither of those answers would work anyway.
Ultimately, this was something Fallon would have to figure out on her own.
She’d either fight back and refuse to let him into her life again, or—

He shook himself. He didn’t want to think of that.

But he was aware what the consequences were with a Dom like
Willoughby. He’d seen it a few times in Dallas, and each time it had sickened
him. There would be no consensual power exchange. No forgiveness following
punishment. A sub could get used to being treated poorly and begin to accept it
as normal.

And if the Dom used drugs?

Being entirely truthful with himself, he’d sensed a change
in Fallon since the day she’d run into the asshole. Almost as if a sheer
curtain had dropped between them. He could see her, even touch her, but he
couldn’t push the curtain away.

Shit!

Checking his watch, he saw that it was well after two
o’clock. Fallon was meeting with some clients, now that the grand opening was
out of the way. The new director of the event center would take over the
operation of the place now. Fallon had told him she probably wouldn’t be home
until close to six o’clock. He planned to finish everything he needed to do by
then so he could strip her naked and fuck her brains out. Maybe that would make
both of them feel better.