Vienna Bargain Page 7

  “Custom made?” She gestured to the bed, which was a common choice for serious players who were also short on space so couldn’t opt for multiple, more narrowly optioned, pieces.

  “Yes.” He studied the piece of bondage equipment as if it was his first time seeing it. “I assembled it.”

  “Yourself?” She glanced up at where one of the vertical posts met the metal frame canopy.

  “Yes.”

  Instead of the beaded lines that would indicate the metal had been welded, the lattice had bolts driven through each intersection, and larger bolts as well as triangular braces supported the corners and posts. She imagined Alexander carrying each piece down, studiously linking them together, and it made him seem all too human and approachable. “I assumed you’d have people for that.”

  “I value my privacy.”

  “Oh, I know. It’s why you don’t have cameras in most of your Vienna house.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “Made my job so much easier.”

  His brows rose, then he very deliberately gave her naked body a once-over.

  She was comfortable with her body—thanks to therapy and a solid understanding of how making women dislike themselves was a business tactic to sell beauty and fitness products. But when he looked at her like that, she felt naked, the kind of naked that had nothing to do with lack of clothes.

  Alena planted her hands behind her on the mattress then hopped up, sliding her butt across the slick black material. Satin, most likely.

  She swung her feet, heels thumping gently against the storage drawers under the bed. “Just so I’m sure I understand, I’m not a prisoner in this large coffin—”

  “It’s not a coffin.”

  “—but if I do try and leave this room in a desperate search for fresh air—”

  “The room has a self-contained air filtration system.” He pointed to a circular vent she hadn’t paid enough attention to.

  “—I’ll be forced to walk naked through the house. And if I leave this tasteful villa I’ll be running naked through the countryside with a collar locked around my neck, which all but assures I’ll meet a grisly fate.”

  Alexander crossed his arms. “Done?”

  “Done with what? You know how I feel about single-word sentences.”

  “I do know.” Dropping his arms to his sides, Alexander stalked across the room like a predator inching closer to its prey. She couldn’t get the image of him as some large, deadly jungle cat out of her head. The closer he came, the more she tensed, waiting for the inevitable pounce. “Done stalling.”

  Alena swallowed. “And if I am?”

  “We begin.” Alexander’s gaze roamed over her face. She had no idea what her expression might be. Emotionally she was being tugged and stretched in half a dozen different directions, so much so that she couldn’t seem to settle on one feeling. Flipping from fear to anger to arousal to shame in rapid succession made her heart race and her cheeks heat.

  Alexander straightened and began to undo the wrist buttons of his dress shirt. “On your knees.”

  Alena shivered, and the swirling mess of emotions faded. She swung her legs onto the bed, then knelt, laying her hands palm down on her thighs, the very picture of a patient, and willing, submissive. “Yes, Sir.”

  Chapter 7

  “Spread your knees. I want to see your pussy.”

  Without reservation, she obeyed.

  Though he knew it was illogical, that pissed him off. He didn’t want her acting like they were in a club, like this was just another scene.

  He wanted…

  He didn’t know what he wanted.

  The burning cold rage he’d felt when he caught her in her duplicity had faded, unsustainable in the face of the more mundane matters of an unplanned trip to Eastern Europe. He’d half hoped she’d try something—to escape, to turn one of his security team, probably Finn, against him. Instead she maintained the air of slightly amused detachment, as if this were merely an annoyance.

  As he looked at her, he decided what he wanted.

  He wanted her scared.

  Wanted her to beg.

  Wanted her back against the proverbial wall so she would finally tell him who the fuck she was, and what was going on.

  The possible implication of what an unknown agent could do with the information she’d transferred had been plaguing him. Jakob had offered to question her for him back on the plane, while Alena had been in the bathroom. He doubted any of Zacharia’s employees would do anything illegal, but there were plenty of very uncomfortable things that could happen to a person without doing them physical harm, the least of which was isolation.

  Imagining his beautiful Alena locked in a windowless room for days on end, until she was pleading for some human contact…the thought made him physically ill.

  Because in that scenario he wasn’t the one in charge.

  He rolled his shirtsleeves up and wondered how far he’d have to go, how hard he’d have to push her, in order to break through that haughty detachment.

  How far was he willing to go?

  She was his prisoner. By definition, that made everything he did to her a violation.

  He’d never touched a woman who hadn’t enthusiastically consented.

  Perhaps he would break before she did. Alexander reached out and gently pinched her chin, raising her face a fraction of an inch. What he saw in her eyes was a fierce intelligence. She’d played him, maneuvered him like a marionette on strings ever since they’d met. He had to assume she was manipulating him now. That by failing to resist, while also pointing out that she was unwilling, she was forcing him to violate his own moral code.

  As he studied her, he became increasingly certain that her plan was passive compliance. Letting him, even inducing him, to hurt her, abuse her, in ways that would make him the villain. She knew he worried about his own depravity because he’d told her as much. He’d tried to walk away from her when he thought her too fragile to handle his sadistic tendencies.

  And now she knelt, naked and compliant, in his private dungeon, while his lingering anger pushed him to hurt her, punish her.

  If he let go, if he let his urges rule, he would do unforgivable things, and she would have the upper hand.

  “I am not the villain,” he said quietly.

  For a moment her expression softened, her gaze sliding over each of his features. “No, you’re not.”

  He released her and stepped back.

  She hadn’t lowered her gaze. He could start there, demand she be more submissive and then punish her when she disobeyed.

  And if he did that, he played into her plan.

  Alexander smiled, then crouched and opened one of the drawers. He rarely had the opportunity to use the dungeon, and outside of this room he limited himself to toys and implements that would fit in his kit, and whatever was provided at the various Orchid Club events.

  But that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy collecting things, wonderful, wicked things that sparked the imagination. And everything he collected ended up here.

  Inside the drawers were felt-lined trays stacked atop one another, everything carefully organized and displayed. It took him several minutes to find the tray of jewelry pieces he was looking for. Setting it aside, he carefully replaced the other trays, then rose, placing the jewelry collection on the bed. Alena unabashedly examined his selection.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

  Instead of same-sized links, the plethora of chains were made out of delicate gold rods each several centimeters long, connected together with large circular links, big enough to connect small snap hooks to.

  “What is it?” she asked in a rush, as if she’d held back the question as long as she could—which had been no more than a few seconds.

  Alexander smiled and reached not for the tray, but for her breast. She sucked in air as he began to gently play with her, carefully rubbing his thumb across her nipple.

  He added his other hand, working both breasts at once. Her fingers d
ug into her thighs and after a few minutes she was arching her back and moaning softly. He increased the sensations, pulling and twisting her nipples in tandem.

  It might be an act. You can’t trust her.

  The pleasure he felt as he played with her dimmed and he released her breasts, reaching for a small gold ring separate from the carefully laid out chains. About as big around as a pen, it wasn’t a closed circle. The ends overlapped, allowing the diameter to be adjusted by pinching it closed.

  Alexander worked it onto the tip of her right nipple. Alena looked down and gasped, then hissed in pain as he gripped the very tip of her nipple with his fingertips and pulled, working the gold ring down to the base of her nipple.

  He released her, checked the placement, pulled her nipple out once more, slid the ring back a hair, and then, with her nipple still extended, pinched gently. That tightened the nipple ring ever so slightly. The fit had already been snug.

  He released her, and examined his handiwork. The ring provided a visual separation between the deep pink of her nipple and her paler areola. It also made her nipple stand out longer and more erect than its partner on the other breast.

  Alena moaned, her back arched slightly. “I’ve…I’ve never seen ones like this before.”

  He doubted that, and her lie made him harsher then a moment ago as he applied the mate to her other breast, using a bit of nail as he pulled on her nipple.

  She hissed, shoulders hunched. He finished applying the second nipple ring and stepped back.

  Her nipples stood out beautifully, the ring of metal glinting in the light.

  He reached for the tray.

  One by one he applied the bar-link chains to her body, custom fitting them to her, making them as tight or loose as it pleased him. One he draped softly around her hips as a belly chain. Another, he doubled and fastened tightly around her natural waist. A three-strand choker went around her neck, above the leather collar.

  Once the jewelry collar was on, she lowered her gaze, and her hands softened on her thighs.

  He was beginning to believe what she’d said—that she was a sexual submissive, or at the very least had trained as one enough so that the snug collar made her feel her submission and that in turn caused her to lower her gaze.

  “Sit on your ass,” he commanded. He should have stuck with a single word. Commanding her to “sit” before had elicited a strong, angry response.

  But with her body naked save the chains, her gaze lowered, he didn’t want to antagonize her. He wanted to play with her. Please her. When she shifted off her knees onto her butt, he grabbed her ankles, extending her legs in front of her, feet off the edge of the mattress.

  He looped chain tightly around each ankle, at the top of her calves below her knees, and around her thighs like garters, tight enough that it wouldn’t slide. She whimpered when he did that, clearly anticipating what he would do next.

  Not wanting to disappoint her, he pinched a nipple—simply because he could—then pushed. She fell back on the bed, laying flat. He hooked his hands behind her knees and jerked her towards him so her ass was nearly at the side of the bed.

  He positioned her heels on the very edge of the mattress, then forced her knees apart, spreading her pretty thighs.

  Her pussy glistened with arousal. She could fake the moan, but she couldn’t fake this.

  He stared down at her pussy, fighting back the urge to unfasten his pants, free his rock-hard cock, and fuck her. No more teasing and preparation, just take her hard and fast.

  And maybe when he did, he wouldn’t feel so stupid. Stupid and angry and sick at what he was doing to her.

  He shut those thoughts away even as he mastered the urge to free his cock. He would deny himself that, but what he could not deny himself was touching her, penetrating her. Without giving her any warning, he shoved three fingers into her pussy.

  She cried out, back arched, ass lifted off the bed. She was tight around his fingers, and he wondered if it had been too much, if it hurt.

  The idea made his cock throb.

  Then Alena’s heels slipped off the bed, her butt hitting the mattress, unseating his fingers.

  “Heels against your ass,” he commanded, breathing fast as he crouched and yanked open a drawer.

  “Sir,” she moaned, “please let me…”

  He rose, several rolls of black tacky medical wrap in hand.

  “Heels to your ass.”

  When she didn’t obey fast enough, he grabbed her leg, fingertips hooked under the chain below her knee, and yanked her leg up.

  “Ouch!” She tried to pull away, but he held tight, forcing her heel to her ass.

  Alena hissed and started to roll to the side. He pressed his hip against the side of the bed, between her legs, his body only centimeters from her wet pussy.

  She started to wiggle again, her breathing fast, and for the first time he forced her. He forced her to hold still as he wrapped the tacky medical bandaging around her upper and lower leg, forcing them together. The tape-like open-weave wrap stuck to itself, and when he released that leg, though he saw her muscles strain, she wasn’t able to straighten the limb.

  As he worked he’d been ignoring her demands that he stop, and her other foot pushing against his side and back.

  Now he turned, planted his hands on either side of her waist, and leaned over.

  “You think telling me to stop will work?”

  Alena’s breasts heaved as she panted. Her pupils were wide, and as he looked down at her, she licked her lips.

  “I think you’re a sadist, and pretending you’re not is stupid.”

  He reached down and tweaked her nipple. “Mind your manners.”

  She hissed at him between gritted teeth as he twisted her blood-infused nipple.

  “Your pussy is wet.”

  “That’s no excuse for what you’re doing to—Ah!”

  He’d switched to the other nipple, twisting it hard enough to cut through her statement.

  “I don’t need an excuse,” he murmured. “You’re mine. You chose this.”

  “What you offered me was no real choice.”

  “It was.” He pushed up and grabbed her other leg. “But you thought you could control me.”

  “I didn’t think that. I thought you were—”

  He found perverse pleasure in not letting her finish a sentence. This time it was a swipe of his thumb across her clit that stopped her words.

  “You chose this,” he said again, and he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, himself or her.

  He grabbed her other leg, using the second roll of wrap to bind that limb as he had the first.

  When he was done she didn’t say anything, even when he grabbed her hands, which she’d laid protectively over her breasts, and forced them away.

  Once more he reached into the tray, pulling out some of the remaining chains, shorter than the first ones, and created wrist cuffs. When he fastened these back on themselves, he left short tails, which he in turn connected to the tight chain around her midsection.

  It was unlike her to be so quiet, or to close her eyes, but she’d done both. That meant she didn’t see when he picked up a pair of gold clamps.

  She felt it when he placed the first one on her labia, the plump, slick flesh cruelly compressed under the metal which he’d deliberately tightened before applying. Her soft cry sounded wet, almost as if she were holding back tears.

  He wasn’t the villain, she was, and he wouldn’t be manipulated.

  The second clamp went on her other labia, the weight of them enough to spread her sex open, exposing the hidden pink flesh of her core.

  He adjusted the chains around her thighs so there was enough slack for him to hook the loop at the end of the clamp to the chain, pulling her labia out to the side. She tried to close her legs, to lessen the pull, but he forced her knees open, wider even than before, until she cried out.

  When he stepped back she didn’t repeat her mistake and try to close her legs. Th
ough he could see her muscles trembling with the desire to do so, she remained submissively spread, her pussy lips stretched out, her clit vulnerable and exposed.

  Seeing her like this calmed him, and when he reached for her sex, he was gentle, caressing her inner labia, slipping a single finger into her and curling it to hit her G-spot.

  She seemed to relax back into the bed, her lips parting, head turning slightly to the side. The light caught the glimmer of moisture on her temple, where her tears had run from the corners of her eyes into her hair.

  Alexander leaned over her again, his cock pressing against her spread sex as he stretched and licked the tears from her skin. He glided his mouth from her temple to her ear.

  Below him she tensed, breasts rising to press against his chest as she took and then held a breath.

  There were things he wanted to say, and things he could say. They were not the same things.

  And so he said nothing. Instead he took her earlobe in his mouth, biting gently, before moving south down her helpless body.

  “My quiet man,” she said, so low and soft he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard her right.

  The feel of her pussy, the heat and wetness, both of which were apparent even through his pants, ignited his arousal, which had been subservient to his dominant side’s need to truss her up, to render her helpless.

  But he wouldn’t take her with his cock. Though she’d chosen this, taken his bargain, her words—that she expected torture and rape from him—had created a barrier, a line in the sand he would not cross for his own sake, if not for hers.

  Unfortunately for her, his moral compass did not point true north, and he felt nothing but satisfaction as he once more slipped his fingers into her.

  He worked her pussy, the heel of his hand pressed just below her clit as two fingers pumped in and out. Then he lowered his head to her breasts, flicking the captured nipples with his tongue.

  “Please,” she moaned.

  “Please what?”

  “Please, Sir.”

  He smiled against her, rewarded her with a long lick that dampened her skin. “I wasn’t reminding you of your manners. What do you want?”