Clubwhore (Devil's Renegade MC #1)(33)

He stands, clearly not in the mood for my jokes. He’s back to that dominant Bryce he swears he’s not. His face is hard, his jaw tight, his lips pressed in a thin line. And those eyes…centered on me and blistering with such intensity I nearly take a step back to break the hold they have on me.

“Follow me,” he demands, as he heads toward the kitchen. If he’d have said “come,” I swear I would have. Even as I’m walking, I can feel my desire for him moistening the inside of my thighs. Why am I just now realizing how turned on I am? Deep down, I know the answer to that question. He’s fixing to fuck me. He hasn’t said it, but I can feel the sexual tension crackling between us.

I follow him through a door at the back of the kitchen. Three steps lead down into a small hallway that is cold and drafty. He opens another door, and we enter a room that must’ve been added on after the original house was built. It’s dark, windowless and not nearly as boring as the rest of the house. Actually, it’s like we’ve stepped into a whole other world.

The entire room is built out of aromatic cedar wood, except for the floor that is layered in brick. I breathe deep, allowing the intoxicating smell to fill my lungs. There’s something calming about it, and I’m guessing whoever built it knew they needed that to keep people from freaking out about the rest of the place.

There aren’t shelves lined with various sex toys, or an array of whips and belts hanging from the walls. But there is a slightly elevated bench in the room, a set of chains hanging from the ceiling and a single cabinet with a lock. I’m not sure if I should be excited or nervous.

“This isn’t a playroom,” Bryce says, watching me intently.

My eyes immediately move to the bench I know is called a “spanking bench.” I’ve seen Fifty Shades. I focus on it a moment longer before moving to the chains hanging from the ceiling.

“The chains are for punching bags. And the bench is just a workout bench.” He points to the corner of the room, and I notice several sets of weights and two punching bags. There’s also a large sectional, a massive flat screen and huge speakers in every corner.

How the hell did I not notice those? Oh yeah, I was too busy staring at the other shit that made this room appear to be a playroom. Looking at it now, I feel silly for even thinking it. Clearly you can tell this room is used as a man cave—to work out and watch football.

“Love.”

That’s me. He’s calling me. Love. I turn my attention back to him. The room fades away and he’s all I see. Fake dominant Bryce is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. My thighs clench as I try to focus on his words and not his body.

“Earlier, I told you as long as we’re here, you belong to me. Do you remember that?” I nod my head, a little too vigorously. “This,” he lifts his hand and twirls his finger, motioning to the room, “is here. Outside of this room, you’re just Delilah. In here, I’ll refer to you as Love, and you’ll call me Bryce. Not master. Not sir. Just Bryce.

“In here, I don’t want you to think. I only want you to feel. I want you to trust that I’m going to take care of you. Just like I did last night, and the night you cut yourself and the day you put yourself in danger. You trusted me then, do you trust me now?”

I’m quivering with desire. I want him. To hell with trust. Even if I didn’t trust him, I’d still let him chain me to the ceiling and fuck me half to death. But obviously this is important to him. So I nod.

“An answer, Love.” The deep baritone of his voice mixed with the sweetness of his endearment is a delightful, panty-wetting mixture. If I were wearing panties…

“I trust you.” I also promise to nod my head more, just so he’ll refer to me as Love.

“Perfect,” he breathes, wickedly sexy. His eyes darken, and he seems to grow in size, or maybe I’m just shrinking—melting into a puddle of want and need.

With every step that brings him closer to me, my heart hammers harder against my chest. My breathing is ragged, uneven and shallow. He’s like a tornado, sucking up everything in his path and using it to gain momentum.

“Do you want me, Love?” he whispers, standing so close that I can feel his cool, minty breath tickle my face.

“Yes.” My voice is low, breathy and nothing compared to how controlled his is. But it’s not just his voice, it’s his stance. He’s so confident.

His finger trails down my neck to my chest—sliding beneath my bathrobe so that we’re skin on skin. The burn is delicious, and I can feel it in the pit of my belly—like I’ve just drank from the bottle of the smoothest whiskey.

“There’s a fine line between pain and pleasure. You have a weakness for both.” His finger continues its path down my chest and between my breasts, parting the bathrobe as he goes. “You abuse pleasure, by forcing yourself to feel it as often as possible. I’m going to teach you how to let it build.” His voice dips and his finger reaches my navel. “And build.” Lower… “And build.”

My bathrobe parts, exposing my naked body to him. He seems to drink in the sight of me. His big hands rest on my hips. His head is dipped, as he continues to look at me. Then his eyes lift and his hands drag slowly up my sides—feeling every curve of my body.

“When I finally let you come, Love, the relief is going to be greater than any pain you’ve ever felt.” I let out a moan and my chest constricts—fighting hard to pull oxygen into my lungs. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.

My bathrobe lays at my feet, and his hands are on my neck. I don’t even know how in the hell they got there. Then he moves closer, his clothed body pressing up against my naked one as he angles his head and softly presses his lips to mine.

He controls the kiss—arching my neck to gain better access to my mouth. I open up to him, and his warm tongue slides between my lips. It’s smooth, soft and I can feel it in places other than my mouth. Everything inside me tingles. My toes curl inside my slippers. My body is on fire, but goosebumps break out across my skin. Sooner than I’d hoped, he pulls back—leaving me wanting more.

“When I ask you how you feel, you’re going to tell me the truth.”

I nod, knowing what his next words will be.

“An answer, Love.” Motherfucker… What that does to me…

“Yes. I’ll tell you the truth.”

“There are no safe words, because you don’t have limits. So when I ask you how you feel, if you’re in pain or if you feel like it’s too much, you have to be honest. You have to trust me and I have to trust you. If you lie to me, this ends. All of it. Do you understand?”

I nod again. But this time, he catches on to what I’m doing. He gives me a look of warning, and I cave. “Yes. I won’t lie.”

A flicker of something flashes in his eyes. I’m gonna say it’s pride, because it makes me feel good and I really don’t have the time to try to figure it out. He looks away as he takes my hand and leads me to the chains. From his back pocket, he pulls out two leathers cuffs that have a clip and a buckle.

“I’m going to handcuff you to these chains so you can’t touch yourself.” It’s not a question, but he pauses before wrapping them around my wrists—as if he’s giving me the option to decline. Fat chance of that happening.

He checks to make sure they’re not too tight by sliding them around my wrist. Even though they have enough room to move, I still won’t be able to slide my hand through them.

My arms are stretched above my head and clipped to the chains. Testing them out, I move my arms but the motion is limited. My elbows are slightly bent, so it’s not terribly uncomfortable, but now that I can’t, I suddenly want to touch myself.

“You have a beautiful body, Love.” I watch as he circles me. When he’s out of view, I arch my neck trying to find him. In slow, graceful strides, he rounds me completely. I find that I breathe a little easier when I can see him.

“I’m going to touch, taste and fuck every part of you.” I whimper at his promise, and the sound morphs into a moan when his finger grazes my nipple. Circling it, he watches my reaction as he continues to barely touch me. I close my eyes and let my head fall back—trying like hell to force my breast into his hand.

Then I feel his mouth on me. I let out a cry as he shows the same courtesy to my breasts as he did my mouth—kissing, licking and sucking me gently. My thighs rub together, desperately searching for some kind of friction, but finding none.

He alternates between my breasts, never leaving one unattended for too long. Then his hand joins the party as he cups my pussy, squeezing firmly but making sure to not touch my throbbing clit that will surely send me into the explosive orgasm I yearn for.

“Please!” I yell, when his fingers rub the crease of my thighs—barely grazing my lips.

“I promise, Love. It’s going to be well worth the wait.” I doubt that. I’m pretty fucking sure it will feel just as amazing if he will just move his hand a little to the right and apply some pressure. “Open your eyes.” I do as he commands, lifting my head to find us only a hairsbreadth from each other. “Watch,” he whispers.