Lexi Blake - Love and Let Die

Lust felt so good. She ignored his line about most other women because it was just sheer stubborn stupidity. In the last several years she’d learned to shove the bad crap aside and revel in the rare sweet times. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t tease and taunt him. She simply pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside before going to work on her bra.

Cool air hit her skin. Her nipples were still puckered from the feel of his hands on her body. She let the bra slip out of her fingers before assuming the position she was sure he wanted. Hands clasped behind her back, chest thrust out.

Ian stared. Charlie waited. He liked to spend long, agonizing moments just looking at her.

Your body belongs to me. Your breasts, your pussy, your ass are all my property. He’d said the words to her so long ago, but she could still hear his dark voice claiming her.

What do I get in return? She’d asked, her voice breathless.

I’m yours. Only yours, Charlie. Everything I am. Everything I have. Everything I will be. All yours. Past. Present. Future. I’ll give them to you.

She’d screwed up the past. Needed the present. Longed for a future. So she stood there, offering him everything she had.

He reached out and placed a hand on her breast, lightly at first, his fingers skimming her skin. His eyes were down, watching the place where they connected. He traced the round disc surrounding her nipple, watching it tighten and peak for him. He brushed the nipple, making her want to beg him to tug it into his mouth. Her body was softening in all the right places. She could feel her pussy getting wet and ready. All he had to do was touch her and she was ready to spread her legs and welcome him home.

Instead, she stood perfectly still. He didn’t seem to be taunting her. There was a bland look on his face, but his fingertips were tender as they explored her, running along the blue veins that crossed her chest. He skimmed the puckered scar where the bullet had gone into her shoulder, just under her clavicle bone. He spent time there, circling it with his thumb, staring as though memorizing the place.

His fingers moved again, this time to her throat. She remembered when she’d worn his collar. It had been leather at first, but he’d bought a Cartier gold collar that circled her neck, reminding her always that she was his.

“Where did it go?” Ian asked as though reading her mind.

Tears sparked against her eyes. “I don’t know. It was gone when I woke up. They had taken my ring off, too.”

She’d lost her collar and the platinum and diamond ring he’d bought for her. She’d felt naked for so long without them. It had taken her almost a year to stop reaching for the collar. She’d worn it for so short a period of time, but it had become a habit to touch it when she was nervous.

“It’s somewhere in Scotland Yard’s evidence room then. Or someone stole it.” He touched the place where his collar had sat.

“I’m so sorry, Ian.”

He seemed to come back to himself. “It’s all right. It was only money. I made more.”

She closed her eyes, blinking back tears because he was willfully misunderstanding her and there was not a damn thing she could do now to fix it. She’d known he would punish her. She hadn’t known how much his distance would hurt. “All right, Ian. I’ll get dressed and go sit with Phoebe.”

At least it would likely be quiet in the accounting office. That Phoebe chick didn’t seem like a big talker. She could think about the situation, find a way to get to him.

“You owe me ten, sub.”

She thought he would forget about that. God, she was standing here with him and she was half naked and he wanted to smack her ass. Suddenly she wasn’t sure she could handle it. “Ian, you don’t have to discipline me. I understand. The situation is serious. I’ll sit with Phoebe and I won’t cause trouble.”

“Twenty.”

He was such a damn hardass. “Fine. Where do you want me?”

“Over my lap. You’re overdressed for discipline. Take it all off and place yourself over my lap. When I’m done, you can get dressed and think about not defying me again. You’ll have a whole afternoon to contemplate your new reality. If you don’t like it, there’s the door, sweetheart. Don’t expect me to step in front of another bullet for you.”

She let her fingers find the waistband of her skirt.

“Are you really not wearing underwear?” Ian asked, sitting back down in his chair. Somehow he made the functional piece of furniture seem like a throne.

She kicked off the flats she was wearing as she tugged the skirt off. “I told you. I’m not allowed to wear underwear.”

“Not while you’re serving me, you’re not. But when we’re done, you can do anything you like, Charlie. If you want to cover that pussy with plastic wrap, I won’t give a shit. But while we’re playing Master and sub, you’ll follow my rules. Come closer. Show me your pussy. I need to make sure you meet my standards. Brighton won’t believe our cover for a second if you’re not groomed properly.”

If she wasn’t, what would he do? Very likely shave her himself. He would tell her the whole time that he didn’t want to do it. He had to because it was part of their cover and he wouldn’t love her but, oops, his penis slipped inside and that didn’t mean anything either.

“I got lasered.” She stepped in front of him.

“Spread your legs.”

God, he was going to kill her. She moved her legs apart, giving him the access he wanted. His hand slipped between her legs, running across the petals of her sex, lighting her pussy up. “I’m smooth everywhere, Ian. Believe me, she was very thorough. I screamed for two days while she ran the damn thing up my labia.”

His free hand smacked her ass, a sharp beat against her flesh. “No cursing.”

No cursing. No pubic hair. Nothing new there. “I’m just saying I’m perfectly smooth down there.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. When did you decide to get this procedure done? Did you check into the company?”

She gasped as his fingers slid into her labia, parting her and testing the skin there. God, there was no way to hide the fact that she was wet and ripe. “I got lasered about six months ago because I was tired of shaving and there were weeks when I couldn’t take a bath because I was on the run. I found the shop I used on the Internet.”

He moaned a little and brought his hand back out. “Not smart. You should have had them vetted and visited the facilities and gotten recommendations.”

Yeah. She wasn’t going to tell him she’d used a coupon. Or that the place had doubled as a nail salon. Or that the person who lasered her might or might not have been a dude. She couldn’t be sure. He’d had the prettiest blonde hair that didn’t match his five-o’clock shadow. “I will next time.”

“Over my lap. We’re on the stoplight system.”

Which meant red was her safe word. Every cell in her body was suddenly awake and alive, but her brain was a little apprehensive now. Ian could be a ruthless, nasty bastard. He really could use her and toss her out like garbage. He could split her open and make her ache.

She would be safer running. She knew how to hide, knew how to disappear.

None of it meant anything without him. If he tore her up, then at least she’d have another few moments with him. Maybe hurting her would give him a sense of peace because what he didn’t know, what she hadn’t told him, still haunted her to this day.

She hadn’t been entirely out when he’d found her body. She’d heard his low shout, felt him lift her into his arms.

She’d felt it when his body had been wracked with sobs and she’d heard him plead to God to bring her back.

She had put him through that.

Charlie placed herself over his lap, vowing to stop being a coward. This was what she owed Ian—a chance. He would have a chance for closure with her, a shot at finding some peace. They would have a chance at being together again.

If her heart broke, then that was just what she deserved.

She filled her lungs slowly as his hand moved over the curves of her ass. Like everything Ian did, he took his own sweet time, saying absolutely nothing. Anticipation hung in the air like a mist she couldn’t quite see through. She knew exactly what he was going to do and yet she lay there, her heart pounding, waiting for him.

Smack. Charlie heard the sound crack through the air before she felt the sting against her skin. Fire lashed through her. She bit back a curse because Ian wasn’t warming her up. He’d gotten right to the hard stuff.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Pain flared. Tears welled. She didn’t even think about stopping them. It felt too good. She’d been strong for so long. This was a release, pure and simple. She let loose, crying out as he continued his discipline.

Over and over he rained down on her willing flesh. He wanted to say she didn’t have tear ducts? Yeah. She could show him. He hadn’t told her she needed to be quiet, so she cried out.

He didn’t say a word though she knew he would keep a perfect count. She would get every smack he’d promised her. She also knew that he would stop if she screamed out red. The word didn’t even play through her head. This was what she’d longed for. Ian had taught her she needed this, taught her to not be ashamed that she was different and required a little kink to find her peace. There had been no peace before him, and no peace after him, just a deep disconnect from the world she’d grown to love.

She lost count, didn’t care to know. He could go on forever and they could stay in this place. She would take the pain to feel the connection to him. While he was disciplining her, they were the only two people in the whole world. Everything else could fall away and she could be herself, the Charlie she’d discovered when she fell in love with him. The Charlie who would sacrifice herself for others, who reached out and made friends. The Charlie who was brave enough to deserve those friends.

The room went quiet. Only the sounds of her gasps and tears could be heard. Ian’s hand stilled against her flesh, and she wondered for a moment if he would deny her what he would give any other sub he’d just disciplined. That might hurt most of all. She could take anything he dished out as long as she got the aftercare that completed the cycle even if it was nothing more than a few words of praise, a moment or two when she felt like she’d pleased him.

Slowly, his hand soothed against her skin, rubbing in gentle circles where he’d been so rough before. “You did well, Charlotte. But then you always did. How do you feel?”

Released. Peaceful. Just the slightest bit empty because she wouldn’t be in his arms. “I’m green, Sir.”

“Get up then.”

She sniffled a little. Maybe it would be good to have the afternoon to think about what she was doing. She pushed herself off his lap and stood on shaky feet, turning toward where she’d left her clothes.

He frowned her way, reaching for her hand. “Where are you going? I didn’t tell you to leave.” He tugged her into his lap, his arms encircling her. “Have you forgotten the drill?”

She was on the verge of tears again because his cheek nestled against her forehead, the intimacy so sweet she could hardly stand it. He cuddled her close, sighing as her arms went around him.

“I do this for all the subs I discipline, Charlie.”

Of course he did. He was known as the tenderest of Doms. His reputation for cuddling was world renowned. She loved him, but he was a dumbass if he thought she was buying that. She’d made a study of him before she’d met him and kept up with him since she’d died. Ian Taggart was known as a bastard who preferred to contract his sexual experiences so the women he screwed would never think that he would stay with them. Yes, she was certain he snuggled with all of them and smelled their hair, breathing them in like they were the air he needed to live. “Yes, Sir. I won’t mistake it for anything but aftercare.”

“See that you don’t.” He rocked the chair back and forth, his hand smoothing her hair back as she held on.

No matter what happened, she wouldn’t let go.

The overhead light shone down on the conference room table and the evidence Simon and Jesse had spent the afternoon collecting.

“Does the DPD know yet?” Ian ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he stared at the pictures Simon had taken. They showed a man, likely a businessman given the fact that he was wearing a suit, lying on the floor of his expensive hotel room. He had a startled expression on his face, but then he also had a bullet hole through his forehead so Ian could forgive the man for being startled. It was a neat, clean execution, the kind the mob specialized in. It looked like their hit man had found the perfect perch from which to shoot someone coming out of the building that housed McKay-Taggart, and he didn’t really care that it was already occupied.