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  I wanted more.

  I caught one of the bartender’s attention and leaned forward over the sticky bar to be heard above the music and people talking. After ordering another drink, I dug out my phone and programmed the number in with the name Four. Making my way out of the crowd around the bar, I gulped my martini, because liquid courage, and asked a simple question.

  Use the rope how?

  Google Shibari and I’ll tell you what I see.

  Opening the internet browser on my phone, I did just that. Breath hissing out of me, I looked at the images. Beautiful sexy photos of women wrapped in rope. They were entwined and woven into the images. I wondered what it felt like to be them. To have the rope intricately coiled around my stomach and back, to have my breasts trapped, to feel the rope snugged up against my naked pussy. How long did that take?

  I stared at the picture of a woman naked on her knees, her arms pulled in a web of dark rope, that pressed into the skin of her back. “Jesus,” I whispered. My stomach fluttered and the cotton of my panties grew so wet I swore my arousal was soaking into my jeans.

  I see you naked, my rope snug against your skin, pressing in so when you’re free there’s the brief impression of me on you. A living, breathing erotic statute of flesh and rope.

  My cum spilling from you when I finally release you so you can come, your cries still echoing the room as you beg me for more.

  More pain, more control, more cock, more cum.

  Jesus. Fuck, look at you. Almost there, aren’t you? Would you come right here?

  Gasping and panting, I swam to the surface of his words. Yes.

  Not until that pretty pussy has wrung every last drop of cum from my cock. You will not come, Amy.

  Biting my lip, I felt a hot clench in my belly and then my entire vagina relaxed open. I sank against the wall, my pussy pulsing from him. For him. Somewhere in this club he was watching me.

  I flattened my hand against my belly while I returned to swiping through the images. Things were jumping and fluttering inside me all from him texting me into an orgasm. Who could do that? My fingers idly brushed over my stomach as I tried to imagine how the rope would feel.

  I tried to get my equilibrium back. That and I needed to find my knees again. I tucked my phone into my pocket, well aware the Dog Pound wouldn’t even miss me if I went home. No amount of alcohol or Five’s drugs would make me forget as much as that text had done. But there was no one at home and I’d be alone. Being alone was dangerous for me. So I bought a new drink and returned to where I was very much not alone.

  Chapter 4

  I’m not sure how long I was away from the Dog Pound. One drink turned into another, which turned into some dancing before sliding into shots with guys who thought they’d get lucky because apparently me dancing equals to being desperate to get laid. When I returned to the table, my alcohol buzz had comfortably shifted into full on loaded and the numbers had mutated. Multiplied? No. Mutated.

  All kinds of men and women swarmed the dais where the table was, drawn by the magnetism that was the Dog Pound. My chair had been absconded by a gold digger who was leaning towards Wells with her boobs all but hanging out. One actually seemed to be slipping him a nip. He had that maddening bored yet mildly entertained smirk on his face as he sipped his drink.

  A girl even had her hand down Five’s pants and seemed to be frantically trying to jerk him off. Now that was a man who looked bored, slumped in his chair, eyelids at half mast with his hands clasped on his chest. Torr’s earlier girl had been replaced with two and it looked like Patrice and X were in the off again phase since Patrice sat on some douchey guy’s lap and was eating him like he was ice cream. I was a bit surprised to see Jere because he didn’t often show up at the club.

  I stood there contemplating the blatant debauchery when a snide, bitchy tone broke through.

  “What does she want?”

  “Desperation has a certain stink with the fat ones, doesn’t it?”

  Wait. What the fuck? Blinking, I focused on Nipples and saw she had an equally desperate friend perched on the table and they were looking at me.

  I glanced down. I wasn’t fat. Just extra curvy. At least I wasn’t flashing tit in a bar. And I wasn’t here to screw any of the Dog Pound. She was showing her breasts to a stranger and yet I was the desperate one. That bitch was in my chair. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over your nipple’s obnoxious behaviour. What?”

  A low grunt came from beside me and narrowing my eyes I looked at Wells. He lifted his glass up and sipped, an eyebrow arched up. “Am I lying?”

  “Cunt, who do you think you are?”

  Just like that, Wells’ eyes went hard and flat, his attention focusing on the two wanna-be-in-his-pants. Despite all the alcohol and no doubt drugs, a subtle shift happened around the table. All of the Dog Pound went quiet, as if their collective breath was being held on what would happen. They may not have a lot of use for me, seeing me as Jack’s shadow of a stepsister, but at the end of the day I was one of theirs.

  Nipples gave a nervous clear of her throat under the sheer power of Wells’ stare, her face flushing. He flicked her hand off his thigh like she was an annoying mosquito and she squirmed under the weighted look.

  Fingers hooked in the front of my jeans and I looked down to see they were attached to Wells’s arm. He drew me around his knee, not seeming to care that I bumped into Nipples. When his gaze shifted to me, my stomach did a slow rise and a fast fall because I knew what was behind those eyes. I knew what made Nipples shrink back and fidget. Unlike her, nothing within me wanted to pull back in caution.

  I have no idea how long I stood there, trapped in that stare, growing light headed while everything else went all melty. A finger brushed over my stomach. “Breathe,” he ordered in a quiet voice. My exhale was long and shaky and he resumed pulling me forward.

  Holy shit.

  Fuck. Oh fuck.

  There was no looking away as I did the stupidest thing ever. I stood with my legs on either side of his with the panicky thought of Wells. Between. My. Legs. Another subtle stroke on my belly and I exhaled again.

  “Sit.”

  My body was obeying before he finished saying the word.

  The two girls muttered behind me but they, like the music, became white noise. Against the satin of my bra, my nipples ached as they tightened. Where the tight pull of my jeans pressed, my sex throbbed, clenching and swelling in awareness. I was drowning under Wells’s stare. The slow glide of his finger seemed to be what was controlling my breathing.

  No one should pack that much oomph in a look. It was a look that told me he knew all my secrets and he’d have no problem prying more from me. It was a look that said he knew exactly what made me come. It was a look that promised to do so again.

  It was a look that demanded utter surrender. Fuuuuuuck.

  My breathing came to a stop when he popped open the button of my jeans and slowly eased the zipper down. Shitshitshitshitshit.

  My lashes were too heavy and my eyes closed, the first wave of arousal spilling from me as the entire bar melted away. The quiet wrapped around me when Wells’s hand slid into my panties. My breath whispered out on a sigh. His fingers slid over my clit and along my pussy. There was no way to hide the effect he had on me, warmth spilling from me to him.

  “You know who you are, don’t you, little girl?”

  “Yes.” I hissed the word out as my hips tilted to grant him more room.

  “Shall we show them?”

  It was rhetorical because he began to rub. His touch as sure and bold as his stare, dominance dripping from him. Between last night and all the alcohol, I had nothing in me to fight back.

  “You tell me when you’re close.”

  I nodded, my hips rocking in time to the confident strokes. My hands rested limply on my thighs as I grew wetter and needier. Tiny sounds escaped as he rubbed and stroked, his rhythm constant. When I bit my lips to stop the whimpers, he pinched my labia hard enough for it to hur
t.

  My mouth parted on the silent reprimand.

  “Nice. Very nice.”

  My body softened at the approval in those three words. My thighs relaxed more, granting his devious fingers more room to explore, his wrist pressing against the tightness of my clit.

  The quiet was just that. A soul deep quiet that I’d sink into where the only physical being was this man. The first time I had experienced it I had been seventeen and under his rope. There in the quiet, I had surrendered my virginity to him because it seemed all my body wanted to do was surrender to him.

  The tip of his finger drew lazy circles around the entrance of my pussy, drawing sharp, audible gasps from me and the rest of his fingers cupped the swollen folds. My fingers curled into my thighs as I chased the slick pad. Not even last night had felt as good as the mastery of Wells touching me with just the right amount of pressure against my aching clit to make it throb. Low in my womb pressure began to build and I sought his touch, hips grinding quickly with the need to orgasm.

  “I’m coming, Wells.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  A small cry escaped. Three little words clamped onto my orgasm like a bear trap, my hips rocking and circling with his finger. I imagined that stare on me, watching me as he worked me to his will and I lost the rhythm, my hips pushing back. Another gasp escaped along with a flood of wet. I nearly came when his fingers sought and found my clit, working it in time to the roll and grind.

  My now-too-heavy head fell forward. He found and tortured each sensitive nerve until my hips were falling and rising to the erotic promise of being fucked.

  Being fucked by him.

  “No.”

  I swore his will formed a fist around my orgasm, strangling it even as he dragged cry after needy cry from me.

  Something cracked into the quiet, hammered into the sensual bliss his fingers caused. A word. “Slut.” A second. “Whore.” The quiet was fracturing.

  Wells could to because his other hand curled around the base of my neck, sending a spasm through my pussy. “You only focus on me, girl. I am all that matters. They asked this pretty little cunt who she was. And you know now. Don’t you? Who are you?”

  “Amy,” I whispered.

  “Good girl. What are you?”

  So many answers, each one terrifying. I settled on the safest answer: “Coming.”

  “No, you aren’t.” His gaze never moved from me but I knew he wasn’t talking to me when he said, “You asked who she thought she was. You’re going to shut the fuck up and bare witness to the answer. You’re going to show me, girl.”

  And he pushed a finger into me, my cry escaping as my back arched and my entire body froze at being impaled by Wells. I gripped the back of his neck, needing something far more tangible to hold on to as he filled me. I pressed my face into the curve at his shoulder and the smoky scent of his cologne surrounded me, my body straining and lifting into the strokes.

  Every noise I made echoed between us. He took me deeper and deeper into the quiet. Something gave inside me and I swore I was melting. My hips loosened and I sank into his strokes. A second finger eased in and his murmured good girl against my temple made my body hum.

  “When you come, you’re going to show me who you really are. Give to me. Now.”

  Those bitches wanted to know who I thought I was? I didn’t think. I knew.

  My body simply gave up the fight of not wanting this, not craving this. My breath whispered into his neck and everything went loose. My hips rolled back and around his deeply embedded fingers my cunt clenched then relaxed as I gave to him. Surrendered to him.

  Submissive.

  My orgasm was as silent as my truth.

  And all the more devastating.

  I don’t know how long it was before I surfaced from the quiet. A steady beat against my ear was the first thing I heard. I no longer straddled Wells’ slap but both legs rested over his thighs. His suit jacket covered me from shoulders to hip. Next, I heard his voice as he talked to someone. Beyond that was the harsh base of music laced with alcohol and sweat.

  Aluminum.

  My eyes opened to the shiny wall that gave the club its name. My entire body snapped tight at the realization everyone had seen him jerk me off. Without stopping his conversation, one large hand flattened on my head and held me down. I strained against the touch, needing to get away.

  “Do not think I won’t push those sin tight jeans down and fuck you hard each time you fight me to leave.”

  The words shouldn’t cause a hot clench of need to ripple through my pussy and I debated about struggling just to see if he would.

  “You do not want me to fuck you as punishment, girl.”

  The sad thing was I kind of did. Panic, full blown panic slid like ice in my body. I didn’t want to be sitting on his lap, with the sensation of his touch still inside me. With the tip of a finger, I traced the edge of the steel grey tie he wore then sat up straight.

  “Amy.” There was a wealth of promise in him saying my name, and not the good kind of promise.

  “Bathroom,” I lied, easing his jacket off. His light brown eyes narrowed as he peered into mine. I guess he didn’t want to chance me peeing on his expensive pants so he let me go.

  I did go to the washroom where I waited my turn with my nose wrinkled. The ladies room always turned nasty the more alcohol was poured. I tried to ignore the girl sobbing drunkenly on her friend’s shoulder about some asshole while somewhere in the room another was emptying her stomach. Gross, so gross.

  Finally, it was my turn where I eyed the floor then cautiously peeled my jeans off one leg at a time to remove my panties. I bunched them up and shoved them in the feminine hygiene trash bin then detoured for water. I considered another lemon drop despite witnessing someone’s break up with their alcohol, but vodka was what had cost me my panties in the first place; I went for the booze-free water. I took so much time returning back to the raised VIP stage, I got another water from the second bar.

  Instead of reclaiming my spot on Wells’s lap, I leaned against the railing and nursed my drink. Nipples and her friend were back to trying to get into his pants and he watched me with a dark scowl. I wondered if he was imagining that punishment he had mentioned. His finger tapped beside his glass in a slow tempo that spoke of annoyance.

  I don’t know where she came from but she appeared, trying to get Nipples’s attention. She was pretty and sweet. I wondered if she looked at the two girls like I looked at Patrice, X and Kendra: a kind of a what the fuck am I doing here.

  On the other side of the table Jere leaned back, lifting his bottle. His attention shifted from the woman beside him to the new arrival. He had the look of a man who had caught the scent of something interesting.

  So did Wells. I watched the tapping stop and his gaze shifted from me to the girl.

  “Oh, fuck off, Anya,” Nipples snapped. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Bitch, I thought, a mortified blush staining Anya’s delicate face. She looked horrified as attention locked onto her and my heart hurt for her.

  “Anya, is it?” Wells lifted his glass, ignoring her so called friends.

  Her eyes went wide when she saw who had spoken. A stillness came over her as she and Wells stared at each other. My stomach dropped. I knew that sensation when he turned that very serious, very focused look on me.

  “Yes?”

  “Join us.”

  She looked around but before she could say there was nowhere to sit, Wells had her on his lap where I had been. This was good, I told myself. He could zap someone else with that Dom stare. If Nipples et al had been shocked when Wells had parked me on his lap, they were stupefied with Anya settling in.

  It was shockingly painful to watch the dance between them. The energy was alive, coiling around them as she relaxed. I had to look away when he turned her, helping her so she was straddling his lap like I had. A touch on her neck had her shivering and lowering her head to hear him.

  I stared into
my glass and wished it were alcohol. Solid alcohol with nothing to hide the burn.

  Home, I told myself, as I watched the seduction unfurl. Go home.

  It wasn’t that I hadn’t witnessed him with other women over the years. I had. No one in the Dog Pound stayed celibate. It was, however, the first time I saw him with a submissive and it was a sharp stabbing pain to my insides. He spoke. A lot. I could just imagine what he said into her ear that had her squirming before his large hands guided her hips in a rocking motion.

  I turned to face the dancers, trying to find the buzz from earlier.

  “Hey.” A hand swatted my ass. Blinking, I looked over my shoulder to see Torr standing. Nipples was now utterly hammered and had settled for him. “We’re heading to Wells’s. You in?”

  No. God no. I nodded once, my gaze sliding to Wells then skittering away. Wait. What? No, no, no.

  Torr poked and nudged me, dragging a giggling Nipples and her friend behind him. I followed Wells and Anya, while trying to talk myself into leaving.

  Problem was at home I’d do nothing but obsess about what had happened with Wells, with Four. I was so not ready to think about shit.

  There was an actual SUV limo waiting for us. It was a little pretentious, yes, but after Jack and his mom had been killed by a drunk driver, Wells took everyone’s safety into consideration when it was a drinking occasion. One of the tag-a-longs cooed about a limo. I looked at the line up of taxis but instead climbed in.

  Because I was an idiot.

  Chapter 5

  Joining the others at Wells’s penthouse apartment was beyond stupid. I should’ve gone home. Obsessing over his touch wouldn’t have been as hard as watching him top Anya. Once again she straddled his lap with him holding both her wrists against her ass. She rocked over him, her body fluid and her submission too beautiful to witness. Against her tank top, her nipples were hard as Wells spoke quietly to her, his other hand inside her jeans, working her. The flush on her cheeks, her parted mouth as soft sounds escaped, even her relaxed hands over her ass were painfully lovely. Hours ago that had been me and I wondered if I had been half as pretty. No one seemed to notice when Wells finally let her come. Well, Torr, lifted his head from between Nipples’s legs before returning to the task at hand.