Guarded Page 15

  Maybe not, but I wanted to see what was on the other side of that door. “I’m good.”

  Ding-DONG.

  A silent minute or so, then I heard footsteps shuffling nearer. The thick slab of oak creaked inward on its hinges, and there stood Robert, clad in jeans, his upper body bare except for a leather vest. Pretty good shape for a guy his age—muscular arms, and a nice dusting of crisp salt and pepper fur across a well-defined chest.

  “Glad you two could make it,” he said, those startling eyes crinkling in lieu of a smile. He stepped back to let us in, my eyes going wide at the tall, spiral wrought-iron staircase just beyond the foyer. It stretched all the way up to the second story—and down, into what must’ve been the basement. “Put your bag over there.” Robert nodded at a corner of the foyer, where a small mound of other bags and a coat tree stood.

  “Wait a minute,” Jase said, motioning for me to open the bag. He rummaged around, pulled out something he didn’t let me see, palmed it and shoved it into his pocket. “Go put it away.”

  I obeyed, not missing the subtle spark of approval in Robert’s eyes. “Come on in and I’ll introduce you,” he said.

  Everyone was gathered in the huge, high-beamed living room, laughing and chatting, glasses in their hands. Most wore jeans or black leather, though there was one woman—a tall, leggy blonde who looked like a cross between Sharon Stone and Blonde Ambition-era Madonna—in a shiny patent leather corset with red flames snaking up the sides.

  And thigh-high black patent boots with five-inch heels, which she had no problem walking in. “Jase, my dear! So good to have you back.” I couldn’t suppress a tiny twinge of jealousy when she threw her arms around him. Her curiously well-muscled arms. “And who’s this?” She flashed a scarlet-lipped smile my way.

  “This is Jordan.” Jase laid a hand on my shoulder, which was my cue to drop my gaze.

  But she hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my face back up. “Oh my, what a beauty.” And what a gorgeous, smoky alto voice. Reminded me of the first time I’d heard Annie Lennox. “You have a knack for attracting such lithe, lovely men, Jase. Color me envious. But where are my manners? I’m Renee.”

  Robert’s wife. Figured a guy like him would have a trophy spouse—a supermodel in a leather corset. Well, didn’t he mention himself that they were both Dominants?

  She extended her hand to me, her long nails painted the same shade as her lips.

  I didn’t know whether to shake it or kiss it, so—after darting a “should I?” look at Jase and waiting for his nod—I kissed it. “Oh Jase, you’ve found yourself a keeper. How charming!” Renee crowed with delighted, throaty laughter—

  A little too throaty. Husky, like she’d smoked a whole pack of cigarettes, or—

  Was that an Adam’s apple?

  And a suspicious-looking bulge in her shiny black panties?

  My staring didn’t appear to faze her, though. “Just think of me as the best of both worlds, dear,” she said.

  “Indeed she is.” Robert grinned and planted a kiss on her smooth, ivory-pale cheek. “Would you both like something to drink?”

  “Club soda’s fine,” Jase said, shooting me an “ask for whatever you want” look.

  “I’ll have a beer,” I said.

  “Sorry.” Robert’s eyes crinkled again. “No alcohol. Rules of the house.”

  “Oh.” Fuck. Was that something I should’ve known? “Club soda for me too, then.”

  A half-dozen people lounged on the long sectional couch and matching chairs done up in leopard print upholstery. A half-dozen sets of eyes locked on me, recognition flickering in at least half of them. For the first time since Jase convinced me I didn’t need a mask, I really, really wished I’d worn one.

  “Don’t worry,” Renee whispered to me. “No one will ever reveal they saw you here. For one thing, they’d be outing themselves. For another... well, they’d be blackballed from our parties for life.”

  “And that’s—” Shit. I clammed up. Jase hadn’t given me permission to speak.

  “What were you going to say?” Renee prompted.

  Jase nodded. “Go ahead and answer.”

  Renee’s heavily mascara’ed eyes flicked to Jase, then back to me. “Well, aren’t you an obedient little slave?” She toyed with the ends of my hair, her nails scratching pleasantly along my collarbone. “You were saying?”

  Robert handed me my club soda, and I took the opportunity to ease my dry throat. Why did she make me so nervous? Was it because I’d never met a trans woman up close and personal before? Maybe it was those huge blue eyes of hers, every bit as arresting as her husband’s. But unlike Robert, there was warmth and humor in Renee’s gaze. A subtle glint that seemed to say, “Don’t be afraid. We all remember our first time, and we won’t bite—much.”

  “Um, being blackballed’s a big enough incentive not to…” Rat me out? Spill the beans?

  “Everyone here has something to lose,” she said quietly. “BDSM’s much more open than it once was, but for those of us in the more conservative professions, it’s best we keep our involvement discreet.”

  I laughed. “My profession’s not what you’d call conservative, not by a…” Something about her smile caught me. I recognized it. Recognized her. “We’ve met before.”

  “I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”

  “You were Millennium’s counsel during our contract negotiations a few years ago, but—” Fuck. How was I supposed to say, You were a guy back then?

  “I was just starting my transition then. Most people don’t recognize me.”

  “You’re pretty hard to forget.” And not just physically either. She’d been one of the toughest negotiators I’d ever gone up against. “Next time I’ll hire you to negotiate for me.”

  She laughed, flashing a mouthful of straight white teeth. “That’s an assignment I’d relish.”

  Robert went around the room introducing us to everyone. Raymond, a slender, ponytailed Dom, and Jana, his petite, goth-girl submissive. Max and his sub, whose name I didn’t get, the other gay couple—well, aside from me and Jase. Unless Robert and Renee counted too? Then there was Chris, a burly, bearded, biker-ish type and his curvy brunette wife, Susan.

  “Jordan.” Jase’s voice cut through the resurgent buzz of conversation. He stood next to Robert by the unlit fireplace, turning something long and black over and over in his hands. A piece of ribbon?

  No. A length of black leather with a shiny, open padlock dangling at one end.

  “Come here,” Jase said, in that command tone that never failed to make every part of me stand at attention—including the part trapped down the front of these skintight leather pants.

  I was used to having thousands of eyes on me when I performed, so why did eight people watching me now send every last drop of blood flooding my face? Licking my lips, I padded across the carpet, ten steps that felt more like half a mile, and dropped to my knees in front of Jase.

  Renee gasped. Jase almost did too—at least, I could’ve sworn I heard him inhale. This wasn’t anything we’d planned or rehearsed, it just seemed like the right thing to do. The thing Jase would’ve wanted me to do.

  “Look at me, Jordan.”

  I lifted my chin slowly, meeting his gaze. We hadn’t rehearsed this part either, but I had a good idea what he intended.

  “Do you accept my collar for the evening?” he asked.

  “Yes, Jase.” I bent my head and let him put it on, practically swooning as his fingers brushed my throat, every touch as intimate as a kiss. Probably the only time he’d be touching my throat all evening, and everyone was watching.

  He finished buckling it on, the lock sliding in place with a soft click, then ruffled my hair and cupped my cheek. His warm, sweaty skin was too tempting to resist. I kissed his palm, savoring the salty taste, and heard Renee murmur, “How beautiful.”

  “Stand, Jordan,” Jase ordered. I don’t know how I managed it with the weight of all those gazes on me, bu
t I swayed to my feet, pulse tripping when Jase looped an arm around my waist. “Relax,” he murmured.

  “Would you like to see the dungeon?” Robert asked. “I’ve made some improvements since you were here last, Jase.”

  “Love to,” Jase said.

  I followed several paces behind, like Jase had told me to, as everyone picked up their bags on their way to that amazing wrought-iron staircase. Down we went, into the room I’d thought was the basement, but instead of a musty hole in the ground, the door at the base of the stairs opened onto a generous, moodily-lit space with various toys and implements either hanging from or propped against the walls.

  A pair of leather-upholstered X-shaped crosses stood side by side. A matching table, upholstered in the same oxblood-colored leather, stood in the center of the room, eyebolts for easy-access bondage decorating all points. A sturdy wooden frame with multi-colored rope woven through it in a chain-link pattern took up an entire wall, right next to a double-tiered rack of floggers and whips.

  Jase walked up to the rope web and ran his hand over it. “I don’t remember seeing this before.”

  “That’s one of the improvements. The others are…” Robert pointed up, indicating a collection of hooks and O-rings bolted to the ceiling. “We’ve had the ceiling reinforced for suspension.”

  “Very cool. Although I don’t think Jordan’s ready to be hoisted fifteen feet in the air, are you, Jordan?”

  God, he actually expected me to talk standing here in the middle of all this? Breathe, dammit. I glanced up at the suspension points, my insides going as wobbly as fresh Jello. Heights didn’t usually bother me. I spent most of my life playing on elevated stages where my likelihood of falling was nil. But if anyone lost their grip on the suspension rope, I’d end up with a broken neck, if I survived at all. “I, um, I’d rather not, Jase.”

  “Try the web, darling,” Renee said, coming up behind me. I thought she was about to lay her hands on my shoulders, but the possessive glow flickering in Jase’s eyes warned her off. “It’ll hold you up beautifully. Just fall into it and drift off to that lovely forever place.”

  Jase held out his hand, and I went to him. I let him shove me up against the web, my fingers threading through the rope, holding tight. It had enough give to hold my weight, and if I shut my eyes and let myself go limp, it was almost like falling face first into my mattress at home.

  Jase pushed his hard cock against the small of my back. Why did he still have his jeans on—and that fucking decadent leather coat? “Shirt off,” he said. “Don’t turn around.”

  I kept my grip on the web with one hand while I unbuttoned my shirt with the other. Slid it off my shoulders—or rather, Jase did. He had his hands in my hair again, tying it back with a leather thong, and when he pushed me up against the web this time, all I felt was the soft rasp of cotton on my back. “Shall I tie you? Or do you think you can hold on?”

  “I, uh…” I gave the web a couple of hard tugs. It wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m good.”

  He buried his face in my neck, my hair, inhaling deeply. I let my head fall back, allowing him full access to my throat. He licked his way along the pulse in my carotid, got a piece of skin between his teeth, and bit down hard.

  Hard enough to leave a mark—I hoped, I hoped.

  I groaned when he moved away, darting a glance over my shoulder. He rummaged in his bag, drawing out a coil of long, sleek, deadly-looking leather. One of the singletails he’d shown me at his apartment the other day. “One more time—what’s our safeword?” he said.

  “Violet.”

  “Do you want this?”

  How could he even ask, when I was already trembling, dying for him to touch me? To fuck me or flog me. To grind me into nothing and bring me back to life again. “God, Jase, just do it. Whatever you’re gonna do…”

  “Say it,” he growled. “Tell me you want it.”

  “I-I want it. Want you.”

  “Good.” He nuzzled my throat again, then grabbed me by the chin, those icy eyes of his nearly melting me. “I’m gonna hurt you now. And yes—everyone is watching.”

  And with that, he stepped back and laid his whip across me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jase

  Jordan’s voice had been the first thing about him to weaken my knees and harden my dick. The throaty low notes, the smooth near-falsetto, everything in between—he had the most amazing gift, and he used it to its fullest. Before I’d known him, before I’d ever guarded him or laid a hand on him, his voice had... done things to me.

  But nothing prepared me for the sound he made when that singletail bit into his shoulder.

  Every muscle in his body tensed, his knuckles blanching as he gripped the web for dear life, but it was that cry that made me shiver so hard I nearly dropped the whip.

  Not quite a scream, not quite a sob, not quite a cry of pleasure—how all those things could concentrate themselves into a single cry mystified me, but he brought them all together and shook my foundation with them.

  The sound hung in the air of the suddenly silent dungeon, the echo fading as the welt on his back slowly turned red. Behind me, someone—Renee, I thought—gasped and murmured, “Oh my.”

  Jordan squirmed, moaning softly. He pressed his forehead against the web, arching his spine toward me.

  The singletail’s handle almost slipped from my grip, but I grabbed it just before it fell. Now that I remembered it was there, I raised it again. Heart pounding and cock getting even harder inside these damned jeans, I let the whip fly again.

  And he made that sound again. That moan of pain, that cry of pleasure. Jesus.

  I hit him again. And again. And again.

  One cry bled into another. When I hit him in rapid succession, it was one long, breathy moan. I paused, giving his voice a chance to die off and letting him arch and squirm in search of more, and then I hit him again, and the rafters once again vibrated with the helpless timbre of his voice.

  Someone behind me exhaled hard. I heard a whispered command of “Now,” and then creaking leather and a separating zipper, and then a low, enthusiastic groan that didn’t hold a candle to Jordan’s cries. With my free hand, I adjusted the front of my jeans, my breath catching just from touching myself through the thick denim. When I finally turned Jordan loose on my cock, I wasn’t going to last a minute. Not if he kept turning me on like this.

  I kept whipping him, the ache in my arm barely noticeable compared to the one in my groin. Behind me, the creaking leather and deep groans intensified. Any other time, I’d have been curious who was blowing who, but I couldn’t focus anywhere except right on Jordan.

  He started getting hoarse, and there wasn’t as much force behind his cries anymore, his whole body swaying and his voice reduced to soft whimpers. Welts crisscrossed and reddened, one landing on top of the other. Veins and well-defined muscles stood out from his arms and shoulders. The sweat that had been beading at his hairline poured down his back, sliding in between the grooves of his muscles and down the middle of his spine, no doubt stinging the raw skin on the way down.

  Rubbing my arm gingerly, I set the singletail aside and stepped up behind Jordan. The second my fingertips touched his side, he went completely limp, hands slipping off the web and arms dropping to his sides.

  “Easy,” I whispered, and turned him so he could wrap his arms around my neck and so his raw back wasn’t pressed against my shirt.

  He rested his head against my shoulder, and I eased us both down until we were kneeling beside the web.

  Stroking his hair, I said, “You all right?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I put a bent finger under his chin and lifted it until our eyes met, and... Jesus Christ. Just looking at him took my breath away. His eyes were red and wet, tears and sweat alike running down his face, and I’d never in my life seen a man looking more blissed out. He looked high. Spacey. Still floating, still flying.

  I ran my hand up his inner thigh, the tight leather almost
as hot as his skin, and he gasped when I cupped his cock and balls through his pants. “You enjoyed being beaten, didn’t you?”

  His lips curled into a drunken smile, and his eyes slid closed. “Yeah.”

  I kissed his sweaty forehead. “You liked being watched too, didn’t you?”

  Slowly, he turned his head toward the small crowd of onlookers. Max met Jordan’s gaze, and his lips parted. He kneaded the back of his submissive’s head, leather pants creaking softly as he thrust up into the eager sub’s mouth.

  Beside me, Jordan exhaled, his fingers slipping down my arm.

  “See what you’re doing to everyone?” I kissed his cheek. “Maybe Max should let you finish him off?”

  Jordan shivered. So did Max.

  I met Max’s gaze, and we exchanged subtle nods.

  “Can you stand?” I asked Jordan.

  He hesitated, eyes alternating between distant and focused intently on me. After a moment, he nodded. “I think... I think so.”

  With my help, he rose. For a moment, he leaned on me, grasping the front of my shirt and just breathing for a moment. I stroked his hair and kept an arm around his waist.

  “Dizzy?” I asked.

  “A little.” He took a few slow, deep breaths. “I’m okay.”

  “Good.” I hooked my finger under the snug collar around his throat and tugged just hard enough to startle him. “Now you’re going to go over there and suck his cock. Understood?”

  “Yes,” he whispered so softly it was little more than a release of breath.

  I glanced over, and Max was waiting for him, legs apart as he stroked his dick. He’d put on a condom too.

  Slipping my finger out of the collar, I nodded sharply toward him and said to Jordan, “Now.”

  Jordan moved slower than he normally would have, but I didn’t order him to move faster. He was still in a level of subspace, and this was all new to him. For the moment, I’d let him keep his feet under him.

  He dropped to his knees in front of Max. One downward bob of his head, and he had Max ready to come unglued. Maybe his own sub had already gotten him good and turned on, but the way his eyes widened and his fingers dug into the chair’s armrests, he wasn’t expecting a mouth quite that talented. Especially not through a condom.