He should have known she wouldn’t trust him. Deep down he had known and that was exactly why he’d planned the fire play scene. She’d resisted it before. He knew she was scared. He was a bastard, but he wasn’t going to change his plans now.
Charlie stood, her legs firm on the carpet beneath her. Her face showed no expression at all, and he was pretty sure he was about to get punched again. That would likely blow their cover with Derek.
Then she pulled up her skirt and placed herself over his lap.
Fuck. She was going to kill him. Her ass was so round and perfect and he couldn’t stop himself from caressing it. He ran his hands over those plump cheeks, the skin so smooth under his palm. There was still a little pink to those cheeks from his earlier spanking.
He slapped her ass lightly. Once, twice and then ten times rapidly. He was softer this time because he didn’t want her sore. Or maybe he was softer because she’d turned his fucking brain to mush. His cock was hard and pulsing with every smack to that sweet ass.
He counted in his head. It was part of letting her relax. By accepting his discipline, she was accepting the scene, and he needed her ready for it. Unless she was counting, she wouldn’t know when he would stop and she could concentrate on the pure sensation.
Sure enough, he felt her start to relax, her spine softening and body melting against his lap.
He continued smacking her cheeks in a soft rhythm. Her face rubbed against his leg and he…fuck…he could smell her arousal. She responded so openly, so honestly. He never doubted that she wanted him. It had always been there. Even when she was betraying him, her pussy knew who its Master was.
He finished off the final ten slaps, each one causing her to relax further. He used long strokes to hold the heat against her flesh. Her skin was warm and pink, her whole body like butter against him.
This was what he wanted, her quiet and trusting against him. He helped her up but didn’t bother to push her skirt back down. He liked the way she smelled, all tangy arousal and sweet woman. He pulled her into his lap, not giving a damn that she was wet and it would get on his leathers. It was a stain he would wear proudly. She cuddled against him, tucking her head under his chin, and he knew why he hadn’t held another sub like this in all these years. Because they didn’t fill his arms the way she did. They didn’t fit him, like a piece of a puzzle he’d always been missing. They didn’t surround him.
They didn’t make him feel.
He looked up at Alex, who was cuddling Eve and sending him an encouraging look. Like he’d just joined Alex’s fellowship of dipshit husbands.
Derek was staring at them, and then his eyes trailed away. He was alone and it was obvious that he was very aware of that fact.
Ian was more like Derek than Alex.
He couldn’t tell Alex how much he wished he could be like him or Sean or the rest of them. Eve had never betrayed Alex. Grace had never chosen someone else over Sean. Serena had been steadfast and loyal to Jake and Adam. Avery hadn’t cost Liam and his friends years of their lives.
He could admit deep inside that she was the woman for him. He’d never really denied it.
But he couldn’t forgive her, and he damn straight would never forgive himself.
Feelings sucked. And Alex was right. Eve did snore.
Chapter Seven
Charlie looked out over the crowd and hoped to hell Ian knew what he was doing. It was one time she kind of hoped he’d practiced on every available sub since he was planning on setting her on freaking fire.
Fire hurt. Fire burned. Cavemen had figured that out, but Ian Taggart was behind the times.
He stood at the small stand Ryan had set up after Alex and Eve’s scene. She hadn’t been paying attention. She’d sort of watched Alex and Eve’s scene, but mostly she’d just enjoyed being close to Ian. She’d also worried about her sister too much to get involved in anyone’s scene. Now she could see plainly that her sister was getting what she needed from Sanctum’s Dom in Residence who, unlike Simon Weston, didn’t really want to see her naked. Chelsea was holding on to the bindings of a St. Andrew’s Cross and Ryan Church was using a deerskin flogger on her back, buttocks, and hamstrings. He was very carefully working her over and Chelsea was perfectly still for the treatment. There was no passion there, just a simple exchange.
What would she have gotten from Simon? The big Brit was standing at the back of the crowd watching the scene play out. His handsome face was stony, his eyes locked on Chelsea. He would have forced her past her comfort zone. Charlie got the feeling he also would have rewarded her for being brave.
Chelsea had gotten to the point that she couldn’t give up control. Simon couldn’t know how much it had cost her sister to offer to let him tie her down. Chelsea even hated seat belts. But she’d been more willing to face that fear than to take off her clothes. Was her sister so ashamed of the scars on her legs that she was willing to never take a lover? Did she honestly intend to stay a virgin for the rest of her life? Because Charlie was pretty damn sure she was. Would Chelsea spend her whole life never trusting a soul?
Charlie could spend her life like that. She could walk away from Ian and she would very likely be able to find a man who would acquiesce to her demands and she would get exactly what she said she needed.
Or she could trust Ian and discover a whole new world of what she wanted.
She tried to see exactly what was on the table. It looked like there was a large wad of cotton balls, several plastic bottles containing god only knew what, and she could see the glass pieces for a violet wand.
“Charlie?” Ian gestured to the massage table in the middle of the stage floor.
Already there were people standing around, including Serena, who gave her a wink and a little thumbs up. She was probably already writing a fire play scene in her head.
It was just a scene. Just play. Ian had never hurt her. She’d been the one to hurt him. He’d kept his end of the bargain. It was past time to keep hers.
She was afraid of fire, but then she was also afraid of elevators, and when she held his hand, she could handle them.
A deep sense of peace settled over her. Most of her life she had shoved her fear down because fear could get her killed. But it would be all right to be afraid at Sanctum. He was here. It was all right to feel afraid because nothing bad would happen to her.
She let her heart race as she walked to him.
“You’re overdressed for the scene, love.”