Love Beat (25 page)

I stare at him, my eyes filling as emotion and endorphins rage together.

“Answer me.” The cane taps briskly at my upraised rump, making me twitch. The next second it lands with a sharper tap across my nipples.

I gasp, then moan a little as the sting warms my groin to a pulsing, throbbing ache. “Good, Sir. It feels good.”

Please, again—just there—once more…

Chapter Nineteen

The cane trails again. This time it teases between my legs and along the curves of the silverware that press my folds modestly together. It travels farther, the tip slipping inside me, circling in my moist, hidden dip and easing out again, lingering along my slit.

I whimper as heat flares between my legs.

“You’ve made the cane wet. You’d better lick it clean.” Cade smiles beneath the mask as the tip quivers close to my lips.

Slowly I extend my tongue and lick, then fellate it gently, tasting the salty flavor of my own juices, stirred and ashamed.

After a few moments he slowly pulls the cane away. It swishes through the air with a terrifying hiss. “Four.”

The sting’s lighter now. The pressure and the heat in my groin fuse into a dull ache as each blow takes me closer. He circles around me, tracing my silver harness with the tip of the cane. It snaps again.

“Five.”

I gaze up at him from the floor, admiring his firm, muscled thighs so close to my face and the distinct bulge at his fly where the tight leather jeans stretch over his swelling erection. The sight of his arousal fuels mine. Now I’m getting agonizingly close.

One more, please, please…

“Six.”

The last stroke is the sharpest, but now it hardly matters. The wicked jewelry takes over and does the rest. My orgasm flashes through me like lightning, swallowing up the effect of the blow in the violence of the convulsion that seizes me.

Instantly he knows
.

“Hold the position.” He stands over me, directing my pleasure as sternly as he directed my limbs.

I writhe and twitch, desperate to balance, intensely aware of his gaze as my orgasm consumes me, the storm of it raging through my splayed legs and my tense supporting arms.

As the heat fades, the force of it leaves me drained and limp, my thighs on fire. He watches in silence as I fight for control and to stay in position.

“Now relax. Curl up into a ball then kneel up, hands behind your back.”

Shakily I do it. I hear the telltale rasp of his zipper as he unfastens his jeans. This can only end one way.

Menacing and stern, he towers over me as his huge erection leaps free and jerks in my face. He stays silent, his stance alone expressing his desire.

As my climax still ripples through me, I lick gently at his hot, swollen tip then surge forward, my rhythm swiftly matching the rise and fall of his heaving chest.

“Easy.” He sounds surprised.

Smiling around him, I slow a little, thrilling to his hard, ridged length as it fills my mouth.

Gently he withdraws. “You’re too good at this.” He lays a hand along the side of my face, his gaze warm.

I close my eyes and lean into his touch. His tenderness, so soon after the torment of the caning, is deeply unsettling. The aftershocks from my climax still rage inside me. I think I’m close to tears.

He tilts up my face, scanning me anxiously. “What?”

I swallowed. “Are you—turning me away?”

He drops a kiss on my hair, his voice barely a whisper. “Never. But—I need more of your mouth.”

Startled, I scan his face. I can see he does. He looks huge and ready—and good enough to eat. But for once he seems unsure.

I feel a rush of tenderness at the thought that at a moment like this he can hesitate. What is it he wants? Is he scared to ask? Scared of hurting me? Or of going too far?

With a flash of inspiration I slip onto the leather-clad seat under the window and lie back along it with my legs splayed, my breasts thrust upward and my head hanging off the end. “Try now.”

Do subs take charge like this? If not, I’m in big trouble. But taking charge gives me the confidence to smile up at him, touched at his look of surprise. He crouches down by my shoulders, his grateful gleam telling me he understands.

I shiver as he strokes the side of my face, his touch loving and gentle, then kneels up to prod my lips with the head of his swollen erection, now glossy with my saliva. Instantly I open wide to draw him in. With a sigh he slides deep into my throat.

This angle is a revelation. He slides right in to his full length. For once I’ve no need to fight the reflex or pause to swallow. It’s glorious.

He thrusts again and again. I accept him eagerly, letting him possess me, fill me, glide through my mouth with the lithe ease of the conqueror.

It seems to be just what he wants—and right now, it’s everything I need.

At last he pauses, quivers, then comes with a shout of triumph, his hands clasping my head. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he withdraws. He hauls me down onto the floor and takes me in his arms, burying his face in my hair, murmuring my name over and over.

Sated with pleasure, I close my eyes, leaning back in the rare luxury of his embrace. When I open them again, he’s smiling, his dark eyes as deep and blue as the sea.

“Today I’d planned a day of surprises for you. So far, they’re all on me.”

At the end of our session he carefully lifts away all my cruel finery, the silver body harness, the naughty nipple flowers and finally the wicked ivy leaf, suspended by the glittering diamond chain that loops from my hips.

It fits so neatly over my most private place that it looks modest and beautiful, while its hidden secret, the deep ridge at its underside, makes it anything but. I’m still aglow from the orgasm it gave me.

I feel vaguely disappointed when he frees me from my elegant silver restraints. Without the teasing pressure on my nipples and the tight, provocative pinch of the silver at my waist and between my legs, life seems tame and flat.

But as we get dressed, I feel light and happy. He seems different too. He catches my eye like he’s seeing me for the first time.

It reminds me fleetingly of Jake, unable to tear his eyes away from Sonja, the now-not-so-chilly ice maiden. “How’s Sonja?”

“We only talk about work.” Cade shrugs. “Like when she called me from the hotel this morning. How should I know how she is?”

“Maybe you should ask.” I glare at him, exasperated. “You treat all your staff like this? No wonder she ran off. And it’s her week off, by the way.”

“So? She’s still on the payroll.” He’s pulling up his trousers. Now he pauses midway. They hang temptingly at his hips as his eyes narrow. “That hoax raid’s all my fault now, is it?”

I press my lips together. “She’s a human being, Cade. You could ask her how she feels occasionally, that’s all. If you scared her less, maybe she’d have asked you for some time off.”

With impatient fingers he swiftly fastens his trousers and reaches for his shirt. “And since when did you become such an expert on handling staff? The fact that your team is completely out of your control hasn’t quite sunk in yet? Even I can guess their plans before you do.”

With an angry jab at the button he summons the elevator to take us down to the ground floor of the tower. As the doors close, he turns to me with a look of steel. “I’m not finished with your friends yet. I still think they’re up to something. Maybe you should ask them how it feels to kick a gift horse in the teeth.”

On the ground floor he strides away the second the doors slide open. “Mason’s driving you back. I’ll walk.”

* * * *

Back in my room I head for the shower. Outside in the park, the sun’s already going down. As the sky darkens to soft mauves and purples, the fairy lights strung in the trees around the stage start to sparkle. Soon it’ll be time for the auction and I promised Mel I’ll be there to watch.

As I put the finishing touches to my makeup and pile up my hair, my phone rings. “Dad? How are things?”

For the next ten minutes I listen intently then put the phone down with a sigh of relief. For once he sounds pleased. The new medication’s doing wonders. For a few seconds I’m almost weepy.

“How is she? Your stepmother?” Cade’s leaning in the doorway, stunning in black tux and tie. Once again I’ve no idea how long he’s been there.

“Much better, thanks. Dad was just saying how grateful they are to you for the private nurse. She’s made a big difference—”

Cade’s done so much. I break off and turn away, suddenly overcome.

“What’s the matter?” Instantly he’s at my side.

“I’m okay. I still feel a bit…weird.”

He frowns, his jaw tense. “I’ve asked a lot of you this week. It takes time to adjust to this. Are you sure you want to come down tonight? I only came in to ask what you’re wearing.”

“I’m fine. Really. Wait.
Wearing
?”

What an odd question. I’m instantly on my guard. “Why? What do you suggest?”

“Our Slave Auction’s going to be Nera’s grand finale. It’s a formal occasion. Your dress sense is immaculate, so I leave it to you, but something simple, stunning…” He scans the rail absently and picks out a bright satin gown in rich kingfisher blue. “This?”

I hold it up in the mirror. The deep jewel color turns my skin to honey, my hair to gold.
How does he know so much about clothes?
“Sure. But if I don’t get a dance partner, I’ll blame you.”

He grins. My heart turns over. How boyish he looks—a long way from the stern man of business or the capricious, time-fixated Dom.

He takes me in his arms, his expression solemn. “You’ve worked hard this week. The first stage of our arrangement ends tonight, and there’s a surprise still to come. But whatever happens, I want you to have this. You’ve earned it.”

He produces a small velvet-covered box and flips open the lid.

“
Cade
… It’s beautiful.” Inside I see the flash and sparkle of diamonds on a small silver key. It nestles in the coil of a fine, diamond-studded chain.

He lifts it out and fastens it around my neck, his fingers warm on my skin. His lips touch my face in a soft, lingering kiss. “I guess you know what it opens.” His soft murmur is oddly husky.

I glance up in surprise.

“You’ve had the key to my heart since the moment you fainted in the rain on national television. Call it a memento.” He kisses me gently on the forehead, his lips lingering. “And a heartfelt thank you for a wonderful week. Enjoy your evening.”

I look up at him in dismay. “You’re not coming down?”

“I’ll be around. But I’ve got calls to make and people to see. Enjoy yourself.”

And all at once, he’s gone.

I dress quickly, trying to swallow my disappointment.

When I try it, the gown he picked out so casually looks stunning.

The diamond-studded key glitters in the valley of my breasts. Tonight I look like a princess.

Sadly, my prince forever eludes me…

* * * *

“Tunis? Where’ve you been? You missed all the fun.” Mel greets me with a squeal of pleasure as I make my way through the crowd to the seats near the stage. The final act has just finished to rapturous applause, a group of female subs whirling around a single fearsome Domme. They might be dancing around a maypole except they move only at the flick of a whip. They end up on their knees in a rosy ring, foreheads pressed to the floor facing her, their pink, punished bottoms high in the air.

Ben looks at me anxiously. He’s still in harness, smiling idiotically and flushed with endorphins. “You look pale, Tunis. You okay? Not really your thing?”

Mel instantly looks contrite. “Poor Tunis. But did you see us?”

Their excitement’s infectious. I nod. “I saw you both on the screen. It was…really moving. Congratulations.” I feel a sudden wave of emotion.

I’ve got my own endorphins to deal with, plus I always cave in after a performance. Now the afternoon’s catching up with me big-time.

“Hey, that’s really sweet of you. Don’t cry, Tunis. We loved doing it, truly. Ben, have you got a tissue?”

I perch gingerly on the edge of a seat as Mel puts her arm around my shoulders. She looks anxiously at Ben but he’s staring wide-eyed over her shoulder as a shadow falls between us.

“What’s the matter with her?” Cade’s voice breaks into the sudden silence.

Mel’s eyes narrow. “Tunis is a bit shaky. That’s all.”

“She is? Why?” He sounds harsh.

Mel glares at him, tightening her grip. “You should know.”

Alarmed, I sit upright.

Mel’s eyes are blazing. “She’s edgy about all this. It upsets her.
Remember
?”

I breathe again. “Mel, I’m fine, truly.”

Cade is standing behind me, his face creased into a worried frown.

Mel gives him a fierce look. “You heard her. She’s fine. And she’ll feel a whole lot finer if you’re not crowding her.” Mel’s getting into her stride now.

Desperate to break this up I rise quickly and turn to face him. People are beginning to stare.

He ignores them, his eyes fixed on my face. “You’re okay? Are you sure?”

I whisk away another tear. “I’m always weepy after… I’m fine, truly.”

He turns away. “Keep an eye on her, you two. We can’t have guests taken ill during the finale.”

He strides casually away, the image of a polite, concerned host. Mel glares after him as the onlookers drift away in search of cocktails.

I stay close to Mel and Ben during the buffet supper and learn that a host of new celebrities have turned up during the afternoon. Now there’s a real buzz in the air.

Some of the
Hit’n’MissTrix
stars have evidently given enthusiastic whipping displays. Many faces are flushed and excited as the afterglow sets in.

“Look, that’s Izzy Bash, the pop promoter. He flew in from L.A. this afternoon and came straight here. Cool or what?” Mel digs me in the ribs as a gangly, wrinkled figure appears at the edge of the crowd and gives a wave as a cheer goes up.

Izaak Bashnikov, the self-styled Bad Old Man of Rock for over forty years, is causing quite a stir. A startling figure in white leathers and flashy scarlet boots, his dyed scarlet hair sculpted into a blow-wave, he flashes his trademark lopsided grin over the crowd.