What He Provokes (What He Wants #18) (5 page)

“Back in time.”

T
he limo rolled
to a stop a few moments later, and a second after that, I heard the sound of the car door opening. The night air rushed in, brushing against my bare skin.

Noah was holding my hand, and in his other, he must have held the leash, because I could feel slight pressure on my windpipe, nothing uncomfortable, just enough to know it was there.

I couldn’t see a thing, and so Noah guided me out of the limo and I stood for a moment on the sidewalk, trying to get my bearings. I gulped in the fresh air, realizing I was standing outside wearing just a tiny thong and a see-through shirt, leaving my breasts and pussy on display for anyone to see.

I opened my mouth to ask Noah where we were, where we were going, but he tugged on the leash, and I felt something push into my skin, like a bunch of tiny pin pricks.

“Quiet,” he said gruffly. “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”

I clamped my mouth shut.

“Good girl.”

Then his body pressed into mine, pinning me back up against the side of the limo, the metal of the door cold against my back and my bare buttocks. His hands roamed over my body, and I had a feeling it had nothing to do with control, but just that he wanted to feel me, wanted to touch my skin.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice husky.

I turned around.

He took my hands and placed them on top of the limo. “Do not move.”

There was a gentle tug on the leash – a warning.

Then I felt his hands reach down and push my thong over to the side.

We were outside.

On the street.

Standing on the sidewalk.

And Noah was moving my panties to the side, leaving my ass and the back of my pussy exposed to anyone who happened to be walking by. Not that I could tell if there was anyone walking by. I couldn’t see.

My hands rose off the top of the car roof and went immediately for the blindfold, but Noah grabbed them and forced them back down.

“Keep. Your. Hands.
Down,”
he growled.

I started to say, “Yes, sir,” but then I remembered I wasn’t allowed to talk.

I stood there, frozen, as his open palm caressed my ass. Then he pulled back and spanked me hard. I gasped and bit my lip, the sound of his hand on my flesh reverberating through the warm night air.

His slap had been harder than I’d been anticipated, and I knew he was close to that edge of control, trying to keep a hold on his emotions, navigating that line between using my body to work out his feelings and taking it too far.

His hand dipped down between my thighs from behind, his open palm sliding one slow, smooth stroke over my pussy.

“You’re so wet, Charlotte,” he said. “Your pussy is going to feel so good on my dick.”

My breath was coming in short gasps, and I could feel my toes curling inside of the high heels he’d made me wear.

Then his body was back against mine, his cock hard through his pants and against my ass, and for one sweet, terrifying second, I was afraid he was going to fuck me right there, on the street, enter me in one smooth stroke, me bent over like some kind of animal, blindfolded and leashed, unable to tell if anyone was watching.

The terrifying part wasn’t that I was afraid he would do it.

The terrifying part was that I was afraid I would like it.

But Noah didn’t try to fuck me.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

I straightened up and he began leading me down the street, my stilettos clacking against the concrete. Noah kept one hand in mine, the other around my leash.

The fact that I couldn’t see what was going on should have comforted me. I could imagine, if I wanted, that no one was out there, that no one was seeing me being completely humiliated.

But I didn’t imagine that.

Instead, I imagined people watching me, men gawking, women wondering what kind of person would allow herself to be treated this way, all the while wishing it were them.

We’d only walked a short way – maybe half a block or so – when I began to hear music, the bass line reverberating in my chest, the vibrations humming through the concrete sidewalk so strongly I could feel them running up my legs.

Then the sidewalk gave way to something else, a threshold of some sort, and the surface beneath me changed from concrete to something smoother. There was the sound of a door opening as Noah pulled me toward him, and then suddenly, the music was much louder.

The air changed, became stiller, warmer, and I could tell we weren’t outside anymore.

And the fact that there was music meant that wherever we were, there would be people, too. People who could see me.

My hand gripped Noah’s tightly.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured in my ear.

I nodded.

He began leading me further into the club or restaurant or wherever it was we were. It
must
have been a club – even in New York, there weren’t many restaurants that would play music like this at three in the morning.

The next thing I knew, Noah was pushing me up against a wall, and then his mouth was on mine, making out with me, tonguing me, his mouth tasting like mint and something dark and dangerous, his hands roaming over my curves as his kiss made me his.

“God, baby, you taste good,” he breathed, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice, like he was savoring the anticipation of the sexual torture he was about to inflict on me. “I bet you taste even better down here.” His fingertips ran over the outside of my panties, right over my center.

I could hear the soft sounds of glasses tinkling and muted conversation even through the music, and I imagined all the people in here watching me, their eyes roaming over my body.

Noah licked my bottom lip, his tongue slipping just over the curve of my lip. “I can’t wait to taste your pussy.”

I groaned and he bit my lower lip softly, nipping it between his teeth.

Then he reached up and took my blindfold off. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust. We were in a club, just as I’d thought. It was dimly lit with a sleek bar running along one wall. Most of the bar stools were filled with good-looking men in suits, all of them seemingly drinking whiskey or scotch from glass tumblers. Couples moved on the dance floor, the women beautiful, all of them dressed to the nines in designer dresses in muted shades of gold, pink, black, purple, blending together in a dizzying rainbow.

There was something familiar about the place, and Noah watched me carefully as I took everything in.

And then it hit me.

“The first place you took me,” I said. “On one of the first nights we met.”

He nodded.

I remembered how nervous I’d been, how Jared had picked me up and dropped me off, how I’d shown up with pictures of those dead girls in my purse, the pictures that showed the marks on their wrists, how I’d thought maybe Noah had killed them.

I’d been inappropriately dressed then, showing up in a cheap dress from

H&M that I’d borrowed from Julia. I was inappropriately dressed now, too. This place wasn’t anything like Force -- this place dripped money and success and status.

My outfit was way too revealing for a place like this. And yet, to my surprise, no one was staring at me, no one was even batting an eyelash at what I was wearing. They were all caught up in their dates, women far more beautiful than I was.

But then a man at the bar turned on his stool and caught my eye. He was handsome, with shaggy brown hair and striking blue eyes, blue eyes that raked up my body.

I instantly tensed under his gaze, not used to being seized up like that by anyone but Noah.

The man grinned at me wolfishly, looking at me like I was a piece of meat – a piece of meat he wanted to eat as quickly as possible. It was nothing like the way Noah looked at me, like I was a steak that needed to be savored and devoured.

I averted my eyes.

“What is it, Charlotte?” Noah asked. “What’s wrong?”

He turned his head, following my gaze, and I watched as his eyes locked on the man who was looking at me. Noah inhaled sharply through his nose, pulling his shoulders back and taking a determined step toward the bar, but I grabbed his arm.

“No.” I shook my head. “No, I don’t… please, let’s just…”

The last thing I wanted was Noah starting a fight and the two of us getting kicked out, or worse, the police showing up. I wanted to be with him, I wanted to just relax and give my body to him, to experience the kind of pleasure only he could give me.

“I don’t like him looking at you,” Noah growled, and his hand tightened around mine. He pushed his body back into mine, pinning me against the wall with his hips, his strong body blocking me from the view of everyone else in the club. “It fills me with rage.”

“Then why did you make me dress like this?” I whispered against his mouth.

He grinned at me devilishly. “To control you.” He kissed the side of my mouth, right where my lips joined. “To test you.” His lips slid to the middle of my mouth, brushing against them, and I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, letting the music wash over me and losing myself in his kiss. “To force you to trust me.”

He tugged on my collar. “Come,” he said, and then he began leading me through the club.

N
oah led
me through a door at the back of the club.

Through the door was a landing, and two sets of wide stairs – one that went up, one that went down.

Noah headed down, and I followed him.

About fifteen or twenty steps down the flight of stairs there was a small landing, and as soon as we reached it, my head began to spin.

Flashes of memories stabbed through my brain in sharp, jagged segments.

Being handcuffed to Mikayla.

Being forced up that narrow stairwell to the auction.

The smell, the dirt in the air that seemed to invade my lungs, cloying and gritty.

The room began to spin under my feet, and I held onto the railing. This stairway was nothing like the one at Force. This stairway was carpeted with a thick and luxurious cream-colored runner, the walls painted a soft teal.

This
club
was nothing like Force.

This was the kind of club that rich people went to, the kind of people my mother wanted to be, the kind of people who’d read BDSM novels and thought it would be cool to try it out. This club was trendy and hipster and there was hardly anything sinister about it.

And yet, all the memories came rushing back.

“Noah,” I said, panicked.

“Charlotte.” His arms were around me in flash, pulling me toward him, my breasts flattening against his hard chest. “You okay?”

His presence immediately calmed me. I nodded. “I’m okay.”

“We’re leaving.”

“No.” I shook my head. “No. I want to stay.”

He tangled my hair around his fingers, searching my face for any sign I wasn’t telling the truth. Finally, he nodded, then continued leading me down the stairs.

When we reached the bottom, my chest loosened, and I instantly felt better. This was different area of the club than he’d taken me to that first night. This time were in some kind of VIP area, the walls and doors covered in black leather.

Noah opened one of the doors and brought me inside.

This room wasn’t scary. It was set with a table of food, strawberries and jam and crackers, a glass ice bucket glittering with ice and more champagne. There was a bed pushed against the far side of the room, with a gauzy mauve cover over it, like a canopy with netting. A small wicker bench sat bottom of the bed, and I could tell that’s where all the instruments were, kept out of sight, probably so naïve young women wouldn’t go screaming into the night as soon as they saw them.

A covered leather bench ran around the entire length of the room, and Noah led me to it.

We both sat down and our eyes locked on each other’s.

“Do you know why I brought you here, Charlotte?”

“I think so.” I twisted my hands in my lap nervously. “Because you didn’t want to fight anymore.”

“No, Charlotte. That’s not why.” Noah reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, pulled something up on the screen. It was the picture I’d sent him the first night we’d been here, when he’d asked me to send him a sexy pic. I was in that tight black dress, my tits spilling out of the top, my cheeks flushed, my eyes bright.

“Do you remember sending me this?”

I nodded. “It feels like forever ago.”

“I am more in love with you than I ever thought possible, Charlotte. But there are certain things I require. There will be no compromises when it comes to those things. No negotiations. You are mine, always, completely, for me to do with what I please.” He set his phone down on the table in front of us. “You will listen to me. You will do as I say. I will own you.”

I nodded, knowing now why he’d brought me here. Noah was trying to get us back to where we were, to show me my place, to make it clear that I needed to listen to him, to be submissive. And yet at the same time, he was aware of what had happened to me the last time I was at a club, and he was trying to be cognizant of that, which is why he’d brought me here to this room, which was more like a fancy VIP room than a BDSM dungeon.

He took a strawberry from the plate and took a bite, then took the fruit and rubbed it along my lips, dipping it into my mouth and giving me the smallest taste.

“Sweet,” I said as the flavors exploded over my taste buds.

“Just like you, baby.” He placed his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss, hard and deep, his tongue probing my mouth hungrily and then his fingers dipped down to my panties and rubbed my pussy from the outside.

“Noah,” I moaned. “Oh my God, Noah.”

“Yes, baby, say my name like that.”

“Noah.”

“Again.”

“Noah.”

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

“Tell me you’re mine.” His voice was raspy, filled with husky emotion, and he wrapped his hands around the strands of my hair and pulled gently. The electricity that pulsed between us, the intensity of the history we shared and the swelling emotions that bound us was so palpable, so intense it was almost too much for me to take.