Clubwhore (Devil's Renegade MC #1)(34)

Slowly, he lowers his body—planting a kiss just above my navel on his way down. His eyes never leave mine as he kisses his way across my hips before pressing them against the soft, bare flesh just above my pussy. Sliding his hands up my legs, he pauses when he gets to my thighs, offering me a wicked grin before he widens them.

I whimper, begging him with my eyes to let me come. With one slow, soft stroke, his tongue moves between my lips—scarcely touching the tender, exposed flesh. It’s so light, it could be a feather. But since I know it’s his tongue, it makes the feeling more intense. I try to thrust my hips, but his tight grip on my thighs holds me in place.

With that devilish grin on his face, he stands. I want to scream at him, but he speaks before I can. “Do you remember when I fingered you?” As if I might need a reminder, his thick finger eases past my lips and teases my entrance—completely avoiding my clit.

I nod, unsure of what else to do. When he raises his eyebrows and thrusts his finger deep inside me—pausing when it’s buried completely—I suddenly remember what I’m supposed to do.

“Yes…” I moan the word as it rips through me.

“I tasted your pussy on my fingers,” he drawls, slowly pulling his finger out of me before thrusting it roughly back in. The movement causes me to cry out. “Do you remember when you came on my face?” My stomach flips at the reminder. I make a mewling sound that seems to please him.

“I’ve craved it ever since.” Leaning closer, he presses his lips against my ear and whispers, “It tastes better than I remember.”

Son of a bitch… Just two tiny flicks of his finger against my clit… Or if I could just move my hips a little, I know he’d hit that sweet spot inside me. One stroke and I could be coming around his fingers—flooding his entire hand with my release. But I don’t get the chance to try. He pulls his finger from inside me, and reaches for something else behind him.

“I’ve taken away your ability to touch. Now I’m going to blindfold you. Then I’m going to play music to drown out your screaming thoughts. I want you to stand here and imagine what it will feel like when I come back. And I want you to listen to the words of the song. You don’t have to think, see or do anything. Just what I tell you to.”

My breath hitches, and I feel a moment of panic. He mistakes my look of fear for anticipation. He gives me that cocky grin again, then I see nothing as a blindfold completely engulfs me in darkness. I rattle against the chains—my breathing heavy as my heart races.

I don’t want to be left alone. What if something happens? What if he doesn’t come back? The fear I’d often felt when I wondered what would have happened to me had Luke not found me that day comes crashing back full force.

I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want it to be over. I’m scared if I say something, he’ll end the session. But if I don’t, my fear will lead me to somewhere darker—even darker than where I was last night.

Be honest.

Don’t lie.

Tell the truth.

This isn’t Mario.

You can trust him.

You said you trusted him…

“Bryce!” I scream, shaking harder against the chains. “Bryce!” I yell so loud my throat hurts. He’s left. He’s gone. “Bryce!...” Gripping the chains with my hand, I lift my feet off the ground and jerk against the restraints.

“I’m here!” The sound of his voice isn’t enough, and I fight against the cuffs until the blindfold is ripped from my face. “I’m here, Love. I’m here.” He’s looks just as panicked as I am, but his voice is still controlled as he quickly uncuffs me.

“Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be alone.” He’s nodding as I speak. “I can’t be alone. Not tied up like this.”

“Okay, Love. Just calm down,” he soothes, wrapping his big arms around me. I’m not crying—fear doesn’t do that to me. It makes me strong—fight or flight mode, I guess.

My panic fades away as he holds me. It doesn’t take long for me to recover, and I take a deep breath before pulling away from him. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?” His hands frame my face as his eyes scan me from head to toe looking for any sign that I’m not.

“I’m sure. I just freaked out. I’m good now. I swear.” I force a smile, trying to reassure him. He looks doubtful, but nods.

“Let’s take a break.” I frown. His lips curve into a warm smile. “Just a break, babe.” Babe. We’re back to babe. I guess “in here” doesn’t always apply “in here.”

His hand wrapped around my elbow, he guides me to where my robe still lays discarded on the floor. Sweeping it up in his hand, he slides it over my shoulders before ushering me to the couch. I’m relieved when he pulls me down into his lap. He snatches a bottle of water from beside him and hands it to me.

“Talk,” he demands, but it’s not in his dominant tone. Although he says it with enough force I know there’s no negotiating.

“How you gonna hand me a bottle of water, suggesting I drink it, then demand I talk? Which is it?”

Smirking, he seems to relax a little more. “Drink first. Then talk.” I take a few sips before handing it back to him. He tosses it aside, keeping his focus directly on me. I take a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare myself for the truth. But I soon realize it comes a lot more naturally than I thought—just as it’s done before with him.

“I’ve been left in a cage for hours,” I start, figuring at this point, there’s no reason to beat around the bush. “I’ve been gagged, blindfolded, tied up and left unattended for so long, I prayed for death. I have a fear of being restrained and left alone. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I’ve just never dealt with the fear. It got the best of me.”

His face is a whirlwind of emotions. His lips are slightly turned down, making him appear sad. His brows are drawn together in confusion. His jaw is tightened in anger. But his eyes are what have me feeling my own whirlwind of emotions. They shine with an unspoken promise—one that says I’ll never have to endure pain and neglect like that again, because now I have him.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” he whispers, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I trust you, Delilah. You’re now one of the few.”

I feel the intimacy between us. It’s so strong, I know I have to do something to cripple it before I start feeling things I have no business feeling.

“So,” I smirk, dragging his attention from where he’s still stroking my hair to my face. “Do I get a medal or something? I mean, ‘one of the few’ sounds like a pretty damn big deal.”

He lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head. “What is it with you and always wanting some kind of prize or award? You’ve got to be the most competitive woman I’ve ever met.”

“Wait till I go to the Olympics. You haven’t seen competitive.”

“That’s right,” he says on a nod. “You’re a trampoline gymnast with no trampoline.” We smile back at each other, enjoying the silence and light mood—something him and I haven’t spent a lot of time doing together.

Dropping my eyes, I finger the button on his shirt. “I ruined the mood, didn’t I?”

“Not for me.” His low admission stirs my arousal that had completely faded only moments ago.

“I hate I freaked out. It was getting pretty intense. Can we pick up where we left off?”

“No.” My mood nosedives. Finger under my chin, he lifts my head to meet his gaze. Dark, dominant, powerful, controlling Bryce is back—just like that. “We can’t pick up where we left off, Love.” Love. My thighs quiver at the endearment, as his voice drops to a whisper. “We have to start all over again.”





CHAPTER 19



I’m once again chained to the ceiling of the room. I can’t see shit, but I know Bryce is here. He promised me he wouldn’t leave, and every so often, he walks around me—trailing his finger up my ribs or across my thighs … always touching me, teasing me, keeping me on edge and reminding me I can trust him.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, but Marilyn Manson’s “Sweet Dreams” has been playing on a loop. I’ve heard the song six times. I’ve timed Bryce’s movements with the beat of the music. I’ve memorized every word—finding their meaning to be completely relevant to my life. He chose this song for me. The thought is as pleasing as it is unsettling.

My entire body is burning with need. That build he promised me is like a volcano—hot, liquid lava just waiting to explode. My breasts feel heavier. My pussy is so sensitive, even the warm breeze Bryce creates as he passes me makes me moan with pleasure.

I’m naked.

I’m exposed.

I’m at his mercy.

But it’s the control he has over me that turns me on most. I can’t see him. I can’t hear him. I can’t touch him. But he’s here, making me wait until he’s ready to give me what I crave. I’m completely submissive to him. By yielding my power to him, all I have to do is feel—just like he said.