Dangerously Broken (9 page)

“Shh. Be still, sugar girl.”

Finally, when she thought she’d be pulled off her feet, the hydraulics stopped. He moved around in front of her, keeping one of his black-booted feet on either side of the center bar, and a hand at her waist.

“You look unbelievably beautiful like this,” he murmured.

He ran his hands over her sides, pausing to pinch the skin at her waist a little, then over her breasts, spreading his big hands over them. She tried to arch into his touch, but she was stretched tight, almost having to go up on her toes in her high shoes. He pressed on her nipples with his fingers, then he took them between his fingertips and drew them out, pinching a little, then pressed again. The sensation was one she hadn’t experienced before, the pressing, pulling and pinching painful, and all of it pure pleasure. She closed her eyes and tuned in to the sensations. The pressure hurt, more and more as he pressed harder and harder, the pinching and pulling gradually getting harder, too, but the pleasure grew along with the pain. From some distant place she was vaguely aware of her body undulating a little in the chains—as much as it was able to—and of her own panting breath, the small sighs escaping her when something really hurt. When he stopped her eyes fluttered open, and she only had half a moment to focus before he slipped around behind her, with a small kiss brushed across her cheek.

She stood quietly through long moments of silence, but already she was deep enough in that lovely, floaty headspace that she was able to exist in the moment, simply waiting for whatever would come next.

She sensed the cool metal before the chain links ever touched her skin, then he wrapped the heavy chain around her waist. She shivered with the most exquisite desire. With a small chill from the cold chain. And oh God, she was sinking into this—into whatever he was doing to her. Whatever he wanted to do. When he used more of the carabiners to clip another chain onto the one around her waist she stood in patient silence as he crossed them over her stomach, drew them up over her shoulders and crossed them once more over her back, clipping them there. And even though these chains were purely decorative, doing nothing to actually bind her, they made her feel something entirely different.

“Jamie,” she gasped.

“Do you need to safeword, Summer Grace?” He laid his hand on her back, the heat reassuring. “Are the chains too heavy for you?”

“What? No. No. I just had to tell you . . .” She had to pause, to draw in a breath. “I just had to tell you what I’m feeling.”

“Ah, good girl. And what’s that, sugar?”

“It’s like . . . being held. Like being in a corset, only so much more so. They don’t even have to be tight like a corset. It’s the weight of them. It’s safety. I don’t know if this is making sense.”

“Baby, you have no idea how much sense you’re making to me. It’s my chain fetish come to life. Not everyone gets it. But I can see you do. I can see the goose bumps on your skin.” He ran a finger down her spine and she shivered deliciously. “I can see how damn hard your nipples are.” He ran his fingertips over the aching tips, making her moan. “And I can see your surrender to the chains.”

“Yes, to the chains. But Jamie, it’s you I’m surrendering to.”

He was in front of her in a flash, tilting her chin in his hand, capturing her gaze with his green, green eyes. Then he grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her. His mouth crushed hers, his hands hard on her cheeks, holding her so she knew she couldn’t escape. She didn’t want to. Her lips yielded to his, opening to his demanding tongue—demanding yet so sweet, so soft and wet. And between her thighs she was wet, desire like a wave washing over her, heating her body up beneath the cool weight of the chains. At that moment her entire world was contrast: warm and cold, hard and soft. The pungent scent of motor oil in the air and the clean scent of Jamie’s skin.

Then he grabbed the chains where they were crossed between her breasts in one fist and yanked her in close, his knuckles digging into her flesh, pressing on the bones. She loved it—his control over her, the way he hit the tender pressure points on her breastbone. The passion with which he kissed her. He kept kissing her as he curved his other hand under the chain at her waist, his knuckles digging in there. Then he released her so suddenly she would have fallen had she not been bound to the frame straightener. He came back moments later with more chain, and her sex squeezed at the sight of the glinting metal links in his strong hands.

Oh, yes, please.

Very quickly he used the clips to attach two more chains to the one at her waist, bringing them under and between her thighs and clipping them to the back of the waist chain, so that it was like a harness. The cool lengths of steel on each side of her damp sex were frightening and intoxicating all at the same time. She wanted the chains to squeeze, to pinch her there. Jamie grabbed the chains around her thighs, sliding them up a bit under her buttocks as he lifted her off her feet.

“Oh!”

“Legs around me, sugar,” he told her as he slipped her shoes off.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, her wet, open sex against his taut stomach. She groaned.

“Oh yeah, I love the feel of your sleek little pussy on me.” He lifted her up, then let her body slide down an inch or two, just enough to rub her mound and her swollen clit over his muscled abs. “Do you like that, my sugar girl? You’re going to like this even better.”

He shifted and slipped one of his hands under her, the other still holding her up, and he began to pinch her ass, pausing to slap it, then pinching again before dragging his nails over her skin. She loved it all—the lovely pain, the pace of it. Again he built the intensity until she was panting and squirming and soaking wet, her needy sex sliding against his skin. And all she could think was how badly she needed him inside her, how she never wanted him to stop what he was doing.

Going crazy.

Oh, yes. But a good kind of crazy.

He pinched her harder, going for the same spots over and over again, at that tender juncture where her buttocks joined her thighs, until she started to groan, then to squeal at each hard pinch, her body undulating against him. Pain and pleasure were two sides of the same wicked coin, making her head spin.

“Jamie! Please . . .”

“Please what, sugar?”

“Please . . . God, I don’t know!”

“Ah, but I do.”

He shifted again, letting her body hang in the chains, her legs still locked around his waist. She heard his zipper come down. She was vaguely aware of the sound of a foil packet ripping, but her body knew it in every cell, every raw, waiting nerve. Then his sheathed cock was at the entrance to her body, poised there while he fisted his hands around her chained hips.

“Summer Grace. Look at me.”

She kept her gaze on his, blinking up at him. He was so damn beautiful she could barely stand it as he bit his lip and slammed into her.

“Ah!”

She threw her head back as pleasure drove deep into her body along with his lovely, thick cock. But he let one hip go to grab her hair tight, dragging her head back up.

“I said look at me,” he commanded.

She did, and the intensity of sensation she felt multiplied in mere moments. She was on the verge of coming almost instantly.

Jamie tightened his grip on her hair. “Bite it back, baby. Hang on to it. Let’s drive it higher. I want you to come with me.”

She swallowed her climax down, although it remained a hard buzz in her system, her sex tight with need, tight around his cock. He tilted his hips and thrust deep. She moaned. He did it again. And again and again, one hand gripping the chain at her hip, the other buried in her hair. She was completely taken over as he plunged into her, the plunging turning into a hammering rhythm. He was fucking her so hard only the strength of his hold on her and the heavy chains kept her in place, the metal biting into her skin. Pleasure washed across his face, and his brows drew together in concentration. The green of his eyes began to absolutely glow, the look in them wild in a way she’d never seen before. Primal. Dangerous. Seeing it there made her own pleasure soar, until she was barely hanging on. Her clit was pulsing so hard it hurt.

“Jamie, I can’t . . .”

“You can,” he insisted.

“When?” she demanded. She couldn’t help it.

“Look at me. You’ll know.”

His eyes were a force of their own, pulling her in. And she saw it all there—his own desire, the exquisite, renting surge of sensation. She felt herself nod as she tuned in to him on some incredibly deep level, as though his sensations were her own. Her body moved in time with his, his hips slamming into her, hard, harder, brutally. Pain and pleasure. Pleasure and pleasure, his features ragged with it. Then they were coming, both of them crying out.

“Jamie! Ah, God! Yes, yes . . .”

“Fuck, sugar . . . Fuck!”

They shivered, hips crashing together, then slowing, undulating as pleasure peaked, peaked again, then eased like the waves on the shore. Still they moved together, both of them milking their orgasms. Trembling. Panting.

His head dropped to her shoulder. “Jesus, Summer Grace,” he murmured, his Scottish accent thicker than she’d ever heard it in his low, rumbling tone. “You are unbelievable. Just . . .” He paused to draw in a deep breath. “Truly unbelievable, baby. You’re really here with me. Like this. As if we were always going to be here. As if the universe planned this.”

She couldn’t really think. But she knew he was right. “You know what I’ve always thought, Jamie?” she asked him quietly, emotions like a hard shift catching in her chest.

“Except for the last year,” he said.

“No. The only thing that changed was me deciding to step back.”

He caught her face in his hand once more, his hard grip easing bit by bit as he looked into her eyes. Shadows shimmered there, his beautiful eyes going from a dark, mossy green to almost emerald, fevered and brilliant.

“I understand, you know. Looking back, I can’t believe you hung in there as long as you did. But now that we’re here, I want to keep this going. I want to see what we can be. Do you want that?”

She wanted to swoon, all of her girlish dreams coming true in this moment. But something in her knew to protect herself.
Had
to after all she knew of loss—the kind that happened when someone died. And the kind that happened when the people who were supposed to love you simply stepped out of your life.

Don’t be stupid. Be the smart girl you’re supposed to be. Except that you never have been when it comes to him.

“Jamie. You’re still inside me and I’m still in your chains. Do you think . . . maybe we can talk about this after you take me down and my head is back on straight?”

“What? Of course. Fuck. This isn’t the right time. I know that. I’m being irresponsible. It’s just that when I hold you in my arms, Summer Grace . . . Well, yeah, let’s take you down, baby.”

He stepped on the pedal and there was the low groan of metal parts moving, the sensation of her chains loosening. When they’d gone slack, Jamie carefully unwrapped her, handling her body very precisely, and in some way that made her feel . . . precious. As the words he’d spoken a few moments earlier ran through her mind, emotion spiraled, making her chest ache. For what could have been. For what was right now. With fear about the future—or the lack of one.

What if this doesn’t work out?

Her pulse fluttered. She’d given him her body, and maybe more important, her submission. The stakes were higher than ever. She wasn’t sure she’d land on her feet if he let her fall. Stubbornly, she bit the tears back. She was just subspaced—coming down from the incredible heights of sensation and power dynamic.

Nothing more than that. A simple explanation. It’ll be okay. You can do this.

He kissed her skin where the chains had bitten into her shoulders, so softly it made her want to melt inside. But she fought it. There were places she couldn’t go, even with him. Or maybe especially with him. Places too deep, too dark. She wasn’t sure what was in there herself.

The chains lay in gleaming coils at their feet as he lifted her in his arms, carrying her up the metal stairs that led to a loft area she’d never seen. Her body was soft and pliant against his, seeking the warmth, but inside her a battle was beginning to rage. Her mind was spinning with doubt, possibilities, hope, dread, all at the same time. By the time they reached the top of the stairs and Jamie stepped into a lounge area with a pair of black leather couches, she was biting her lip, biting back the swirling mess of emotion that threatened to come bursting out.

He sat down with her in his lap, pulling a soft, gray blanket from somewhere and wrapping her in it. She was acutely aware of the rough denim of his jeans, the edge of the still-open zipper beneath her thighs. Of his scent—dark, sweet, smoky wood and motor oil and soap, maybe. Familiar. Heady. She could smell his come in the air, and her own. She heard the low whirring of the small refrigerator in one corner, a car going by outside, felt the ever-present humidity of New Orleans. And wondered how she could even notice these things in her present state.

Jamie lifted her chin in his hand, forcing her gaze to his. “Sugar, where are you?”

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

He shook his head slowly. “No, you’re in some faraway place. Talk to me, Summer Grace. Was the play too much?”

“No, the play was wonderful.”

“Then what?”

“It was . . . God, Jamie, it’s everything.” She knew it was all about to explode, but she couldn’t stop it. “It’s the play and the sex and the things you said to me down there.” She squirmed, her fingers catching the edge of the blanket, her muscles too tense to hold still.

Jamie caught one hand in his, lacing his fingers through hers. He said quietly, “Tell me.”

“You don’t see it? The promise that kept you away—you held on to it for years. It’s hard to believe it’s not there anymore, or that your perspective has really shifted. That the shadow of my brother—my wonderful brother—won’t get between us again.” She stopped, took a breath. “It’s us being together exactly as it was meant to be, like you said. But it’s also us being together
despite
our history, and my brother, and the years of . . . of yearning and anticipation. I can barely stand it—how
important
it feels. How do we do this? With every other man I’ve been with, I’ve always known exactly what to do. And now, with you, I feel like some virgin.
Me
, of all people, wide-eyed and innocent somehow—the girl who spent her adolescence sneaking into your bed. How ridiculous is that? But that’s how it feels.”