The Club Sin Series 4-Book Bundle (75 page)

She arched into him. “Yes, sir.”

Emotionally, he saw the distance she'd kept him at. Whenever he stopped touching her, she shut down. The moment his hands were on her body, she roused. He knew if he hadn't pushed for her to stay the weekend, she wouldn't have. But he wanted to know more about her and he wanted to investigate why he felt such a draw to her; whether she wanted the same, only time would tell.

Pressing his lips against hers, he gave her a soft, passionate kiss that spoke of emotion. Mary tensed beneath him at his obvious plan, but he closed his body against hers. He had her trapped, right there in his mastery, and he knew exactly what she needed.

To be touched intimately…

He continued to kiss her deeply and reached for the condom on the night table. He never stopped kissing her as he opened the wrapper and sheathed himself. He didn't give her a second to think about what he was going to do next; he swiftly entered her in one quick stroke.

Her hips arched into him and she moaned against his mouth. He rubbed his pelvis against her clit, gyrating into her, building her pleasure. As her breath deepened across his face and her kisses became harder, he nudged her head to the side and dragged his tongue along her neck. He ran a hand under her bottom, wrapping her thigh around his back, and keeping his thrusts slow and sensual. Personal. Emotional.

He wouldn't allow her to keep that wall between them; he needed to know for himself if what he felt was real. Nipping at her neck, he told her without words exactly where she should be.

“Elliott,” she said in warning.

“Quiet,” he growled against her warm flesh. “Mine to fuck how I want to, Mary.”

She might think she needed to be fucked roughly, and even from his spanking her last night, she might have expected that from him. But Mary needed to be cherished and adored. And Elliott desperately had to find out if what he thought could be the start to something between them was an accurate assumption.

Thrusting in and out, he sensed her cunt drying under her hesitation, so he lifted her bottom up and thrust fast and hard, driving into her until her body gave him what he wanted: a soaking-wet pussy for him to play with. He sensed the struggle in her moans, partly telling herself to hate this—to not allow him to touch her with such emotion. The other part telling him just how much she liked it.

Licking his way back up her neck, he lifted his head and wasn't surprised to see the confusion rushing across her pinched expression. Her eyes were dark, but her brows were furrowed. To stop her mind, he kissed her hard, thrusting deeply, hitting her G-spot, over and over again.

When he sensed her relax beneath him, he slowed his thrusts, running his hand up and down her thigh, touching her every which way he could: with his mouth, his cock, his hands.

Overwhelming her with his intentions. Forcing her to know only his touch. Demanding she stop shutting him out. Ordering that her mind quiet. He wanted it all.

He broke the kiss, opening his eyes to her, and her brow had settled. The pleasure overrode her obvious broken heart that was refusing to let anyone else in. He slid inside her with ease. “This is how I want your cunt, easily accepting me. Showing me how much you want me.”

Her moans deepened, yet she held his gaze with a soft acceptance in the depths of her eyes, spellbinding him. “Yeah, darlin',” he murmured, “Staring at me like that. Right at me. Telling me exactly what you need.”

Swirling his hips, he rode her with the intent to touch her heart. He didn't give her rough lovemaking to crash her into her orgasm, but he drove her there with slow precision. Her inner walls clamped against him, her eyes went wide, and he clenched his jaw, struck by something he saw in their depths. Something he couldn't quite pinpoint, but something that felt so damn good he never wanted to let it go.

He moved faster, harder, always keeping his body close to hers, pushing her into the mattress. Running his hand up her thigh, he continued on until he reached her chin. He held it in his grip, holding her right to him. “Yes, Mary, come like this. Looking nowhere but at me. Keep your eyes open.”

“Yes…” was all she managed before her breath hitched.

Elliott watched her, as it appeared she wasn't looking at him, too stuck in her head. But then the emotion that filled her expression sucked him in. For years he'd wanted a submissive to look at him like that. That he was her all. That she belonged only to him, and Mary gave him that now in the seconds of her building orgasm. A look so intoxicating he'd forever be chasing to see it again, and he hoped to have it last longer than mere seconds.

Beneath him, her inner muscles worked over his cock in a splendid ride. He grunted against the vise grip of her channel and his orgasm rose in the emotion she showed him. The softness in her expression. That specialness he saw in her soul. His cum pulsed into the condom as he rocked into her, grunting with each contraction of his penis.

He dropped his mouth to hers, and he wouldn't let her forget the connection between them. He craved for her to see this unknown chemistry he could practically taste on his tongue. Yet when he broke the kiss and lifted his head, he saw the distance in her gaze, and the return of her pinched expression. Whatever she felt in that special moment between them, she regretted. In fact, sadness reflected heavily in her eyes.

Now that he'd seen that pure submission, even a glimpse of it, her distance and pain clenched his chest. How could something be so beautiful but so out of his reach? With a sigh, he yanked the knots from the rope, unbinding her from the headboard.

Once free, she moved away from him and sat on the edge of the bed. A long, terribly thick few seconds passed before she hung her head and whispered, “Thank you for this weekend, but I think it's best I leave now. Are you done with me, sir?”

He stared at her hair flowing down her back, wanting to tangle his fingers in its soft strands and make her stay. He couldn't understand why she could show him such submission in those seconds and then just shut it off. Why she wouldn't let this glaringly obvious connection between them develop. Why she was entirely against the idea of even forming a friendship. How could she walk away so easily, as if this weekend hadn't meant anything to her? He doubted the gentle-hearted Mary could do that, which only spoke of how much pain she was in. “Are you okay, Mary?” he asked gently.

She paused, drew in a long breath, then glanced over her shoulder. Tears welled in her eyes. “Yes. This weekend was wonderful. I'm just not ready for this. Please let me leave.”

The demand to force her to stay hung on his tongue. He wanted to understand her and help her through her troubles. Though at the stiffness in her shoulders, he knew she was already long gone. “If you want to leave, Mary, you may.”

Much to his disappointment, she did.

On Monday morning, Elliott leaned against his chair surrounded by the directors of Foster Enterprises. The posh building with the industrial design had been the first building he'd bought when he graduated from Harvard.

In his late thirties, he took the wealth left to him by his late parents' estate, which he shared with his sister, and then expanded his business and began buying companies in crisis. Both his parents had lived full lives and died in their seventies—his mother from brain cancer and his father from a heart attack two years later—and what he learned about business had come from his father.

Elliott scanned the room, listening to the conversations going on around him, and he was proud of what his company had become. From his knowledge and driven work ethic, he had turned his company into a multimillion-dollar venture. He owned a string of businesses across the United States, with most in New York and Los Angeles. Foster Enterprises had some of the savviest businesspeople he'd ever met.

One thing was certain: With every company he had either bought outright or simply invested in as a silent partner, it had succeeded beyond his hope. Not a single business he'd invested in had failed.

The vice president and his sister, Ana, flipped through the real estate agreement. Wearing a black pin-striped skirt suit, her dyed blond hair was pulled back in its typical bun. Her light gray eyes quickly scanned the document. When she finally raised her head, her red painted lips pulled into a frown. “If we are buying the IT company in Boston, we need to act now and give full price. There is more interest on this one. If we wait, we're going to go into a bidding war.”

Elliott nodded, lacing his fingers together on the table. “Agreed.” He turned to the director of sales, Gerald. “Go ahead and contact the realtor. Put in our offer at full price.” Especially considering full price was way below market value. Thus was the reality of a business going belly-up.

Gerald nodded, gathering his papers off the oak desk. “I'll get it done.”

Elliott tidied up the paperwork in front of him and said to the others in the meeting room, “That's all for now. We'll meet again once the deal is firmed up.”

The rest of the directors rose from their chairs and then left the meeting room. Ana placed the agreement back in the file folder and smiled. “It's a good choice for us.”

“You were right on with this one,” he replied, damn happy his sister, who was two years his junior, excelled in business. She hadn't always worked for him, but had joined the company after her divorce six years ago, when she needed a better income to support her four children.

Elliott had hired her without question. Ana was a good employee and started with a job as director of sales. When the VP position became available because his last employee retired, she'd fit perfectly into that role.

Ana rose from her leather chair and pushed it under the table, grinning at him. “Of course I was right. I always am.” Then, with her usual strut, she headed out of the meeting room.

Elliott laughed, shaking his head. He and his sister always had a close relationship, and after her divorce, they'd only become tighter. She was a big reason why Foster Enterprises did so well this last quarter.

His little sister was brilliant.

Once the office was quiet, Elliott turned to the windows at his back, staring out at the busy Las Vegas strip. Cars passed by and thousands of people walked up and down the street. It never did go quiet down there.

That was one thing about Vegas Elliott didn't enjoy. He preferred a quieter life. Yet with Ana in Vegas, the only family he had left, he knew he'd never leave. Vegas was home. Elliott had long ago accepted that.

He ran a hand across his tired eyes, since he hadn't got much sleep last night. His thoughts oddly returned to Mary. Since she had left him so abruptly on Sunday morning, he couldn't stop thinking about her, and he had just about enough of thinking about her and not doing something about it.

Elliott reminded himself that he hadn't become successful by waiting around for things to happen. He took matters into his own hands. Even if Mary indicated clearly enough she didn't want to investigate the connection between them, Elliott wouldn't let her walk away from him that easily.

She showed too many mixed signals. And the good signals were too beautiful to ignore.

He wasn't a young man anymore. He had waited a long time to find someone who was as connected to him on a D/s level as he and Mary had been. Something existed between them. Something special, Elliott didn't doubt that.

Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his personal cell phone, dialed, and pressed it to his ear. Tension rode his shoulders, yet it was a strain he welcomed. It messed with his mind that Mary shut him out, and his response intrigued him. He couldn't remember a time when he had the urge to pursue a submissive, especially when that submissive seemed to outright refuse any sort of relationship with him, even a simple friendly one.

The phone rang once before the low voice said, “Hello, Elliott.”

“Good morning,” Elliott replied, relieved that Dmitri answered.

The tension in Elliott's voice was clearly apparent, since Dmitri asked, “Is everything all right?”

“Don't worry, everything is fine, but I'm not calling about business.”

“What's up?”

“I'm wondering if I could inquire about Mary,” Elliott said, controlling the strain invading him, and hating that he had to learn more about Mary this way.

Dmitri paused. “As in
my
Mary?”

Mine, if she'd allow it.
“Yes, that Mary.”

The hesitation now was a little longer before Dmitri asked, “Have you seen her again since our dinner?”

“I have,” Elliott replied, not saying more than that. It wasn't Dmitri's business what he and Mary experienced together. “Would I be stepping over the line to inquire a little bit about her?”

“Depends,” Dmitri said.

“On?”

“What you want the information for.”

Elliott smiled, not surprised. He didn't know who Mary was to Dmitri except that they were friends, but from the dinner he had had with them and the protectiveness in Dmitri's voice now, he could tell they were close. “We have become friendly with each other, but I've received some mixed signals. I want to make sure that I'm reading her correctly before I proceed any further. Since you two are close, I hoped you could provide some insight.”

Dmitri's voice lightened. “Are you interested in dating her or is this in regard to her being a play partner?”

“Both, if she'd be agreeable.”

“Well, this is interesting.” Humor touched Dmitri's voice, which also sounded a lot like approval. “What has she told you?”

As a Dom, Elliott understood why Dmitri wanted to know what Elliott knew first. He also suspected that Dmitri wouldn't tell him anything too personal about Mary without her permission. “She told me her husband passed away.”

“Yes, Charles passed many years ago.”

Sadness drifted through Dmitri's tone when he said
Charles,
and Elliott began to wonder how they were all connected. Staring out at the hordes of people walking along the strip, Elliott said, “It's pretty apparent that she's still hurting from his death.”

“Incredibly so,” Dmitri replied in a solemn voice. “To be honest, Mary doesn't talk to me about the past or about Charles. But I do know she gave up the lifestyle after he died, so as a play partner, you might have a challenge there.”

Actually, she's willing to play, just not agreeable to gamble with her heart.
Pushing on, Elliott said, “I understand. Is there anything other than her husband passing away that I should be aware of?” He needed to understand what he was up against. He had to know more about the woman captivating his mind. And he needed to understand why she was so determined to run away from him.

Dmitri sighed. “Mary is a very private and an incredibly strong woman. If you are asking me does she have any emotional problems that I have seen that would affect your playtime or if you were interested in dating her, then my answer is no. She is extremely put together, always has been.”

Elliott agreed; he found her to be strong, and her strength was alluring. Yet knowing that also told him exactly what he needed to find out. She wasn't depressed or suffering from another mental illness that would make his dealings with her more cautious. Knowing that Mary was as strong as he suspected, he figured she was likely scared of a new relationship and maybe feeling guilty over it.

That, he could work with.

A hundred questions lingered in Elliott's mind, but only one remained most important. “Tell me, since she is such a good friend to you—”

“Not friend,” Dmitri corrected. “She is family to me.”

“Which I believe makes it clear enough that I should ask your approval of pursuing her when she's proving to be a little difficult. Dom to Dom, friend to friend, are you all right with my involvement with her?”

Softness reached Dmitri's voice declaring his love for Mary. “First, she means a lot to me, so extra caution is warranted here.”

“Warning heeded,” Elliott replied, leaning back in his chair. Not that he needed the advice. It was clear enough he had to proceed with care. He was also beginning to understand Mary as a submissive and exactly what she needed from him.

That gave him a plan.

Dmitri hesitated long enough that it showed he put deep thought behind his choice of words. “You don't need my permission, Elliott. If Mary has shown interest in you, then I'm glad for you both.” He paused again. “But since you said she is giving mixed signals, I will tell you this: The fact that you have seen her again since our dinner shows her interest in you. Mary doesn't play games. She might be fearful, since this is all new to her again, but she thinks her choices through. She wouldn't have met with you if she didn't feel a connection to you. Don't let her fool you into believing something different.”

Elliott snorted. “Believe me, Dmitri, she isn't fooling anyone.”

In the examination room of Mary's family practice, she turned to the desk and logged on to the computer. “Your son has a viral infection.” She entered the details into her patient's file. “There isn't much we can do but just let the cold run through his system.” She spun in her seat, looking at the exhausted young mother, who was slightly pale herself. “I know that isn't what you want to hear.”

“Not exactly,” the mother grumbled, dressing her toddler. “Sleep would be nice.”

Mary understood, having children herself. Sick kids weren't fun kids, but overmedicating kids wasn't good, either. “If he doesn't get better in a week or if his symptoms worsen, please come back to see me.”

The mother picked her son off the examination table and gave a weak smile. “Thanks.” Then she dragged her feet to the door and left without another word.

Mary sighed, feeling a hardness in her stomach that she couldn't do more. But sickness was sickness and just part of life. She turned to the computer screen, finishing typing out the chart. She entered the child's temperature, remembering those long nights when her children were sick and there wasn't much she could do for them, even as a doctor. Things were so different now. Her children were grown up and had moved out. But she'd always been close to them, and maybe that bond became even tighter after Charles died.

They were all she had left of him.

Her eldest son looked so much like his father, and that had always warmed Mary. She might not have
her Charles,
but she had a piece of him within her children. With a sigh, she shut down the file and logged out of the system, then exited the small examination room.

The day had been long and somewhat exhausting. Her body hurt in ways it hadn't hurt in years, and some spots were sore from the flogging. She also noticed that if she moved a certain way the soreness stirred memories of Elliott.

A man she'd been trying to forget since she'd left him the other morning. Practically running out on him hadn't been her finest of moments. But Elliott had found a way into that spot in her heart that belonged only to Charles. She'd given her submission to him.

Fear had made her run, though her body seemed determined to ensure she didn't forget Elliott. She heaved another sigh as she reached the next closed door and knocked, waiting. When she didn't get a reply, she entered the room.

She froze, her breath all but lost to her.

Warm brown eyes held hers with a knowing twinkle as a low, smooth voice said, “Being here is giving me some damn fine fantasies.”

“What are you doing here?” She gasped in alarm, shutting the door behind her before glaring at Elliott. “You shouldn't have come.”

His grin was sinfully wicked as he leaned against the examination table, arms folded. “What can I say? I need a doctor…a beautiful one.” Then he closed the distance between them, staring at her with a smoldering gaze that Mary suspected all women would react to.

A gaze that spoke of lust and masculinity.

She inhaled the thick air deeply, attempting to get her thoughts together, but managed only to draw in his woodsy scent. Her lips parted to tell him to go, but Elliott's body was so close to hers, bringing memories of their heated touches that she couldn't ignore.

Keeping his gaze perfectly focused on her, he ran his hand up her arm until he cupped her nape. “I need a certain doctor who can make me feel better.”

“We cannot do this here,” she said, though even she heard the weakness in her voice.

His smile wasn't sweet, it was determined with a sharpshooter's precision. “I hadn't planned to do anything, but then I couldn't stop thinking about you. And you didn't leave me your telephone number.”