10
GABE EASED MEGAN down onto the bed, then sat back against the pillows. He pulled her into his arms, holding her against him as she came down from her high. She was trembling a little as she turned into him to cuddle against his chest. A wave of satisfaction washed over him as he pushed the hair back from her face. He’d made her come so hard that she’d fallen apart and was having trouble putting herself back together. Her lips parted as she took in a shaky breath, her cheeks flushed.
So fucking beautiful. Beautiful, and his. But just for tonight. He was surprised at how he had to remind himself of that. He wanted so much more of her sweet submission, but knew it would be a mistake to think he could have it without a cost.
Her eyes fluttered closed and he noticed how her eyelashes curled at the ends. He found himself counting the freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose, wanting to memorize them. He was curious about all the little things. Every tiny detail that was Megan. For the first time since Natalie, he found himself wanting to know a woman. Wanting to slow down the one night he had with her.
The thought of Natalie should’ve been enough to make him retreat into the safety of his shell, but instead it caused a tenderness to bloom right in the center of his chest. He let out a long, slow breath and tried to push it away. He wasn’t even sure what, exactly, he was trying to push away. The ache? The memory of Natalie? The fear that he could get in really fucking deep with Megan without even trying?
She slowly opened her eyes. Her lips made a perfect bow when she smiled. They were still slightly swollen from his mouth and cock. His. “Hi,” she whispered.
His heart kicked against his ribs at the sound of her voice, husky and sleepy-sounding from sex. His thumb traced over her plump bottom lip as he cupped her face. “Hi.” He realized he was smiling as he met her gaze.
She blushed as she turned her face into his chest. Was it because she was embarrassed at how she’d come undone? He liked how she’d come apart, and how she’d never let another man tie her up. He liked that he was the first to have her that way. The only one to own her so completely for those few minutes. Her pleasure completely at his mercy. Her trust completely in his hands. The power of that was more intoxicating and addictive than any drug. And the fact that it was Megan . . . goddamn. She made him want things he had no right to want. Things he didn’t deserve. Things he didn’t know how to give.
“You did good.” He spoke softly, conscious of the need to reassure her after she’d given herself over to him so completely. He was proud of her. It took strength to be so fearless in submission, and she’d impressed him. “Perfect.” His hand moved down her shoulder to her back, stroking over her silky skin to cup her ass. He squeezed and she moaned, still smiling as she looked back up at him.
“Did you like it?” She bit her bottom lip as if she needed to hear the words, even though it had to be obvious that he had. Something flickered in her eyes, almost like she was worried.
He hadn’t simply liked it, he’d loved it. He’d felt like a fucking champion, only the high was so much better than when he was in the cage, because she was his prize. It hadn’t been personal like that before, not with the other women and the scenes they’d played out. It had always been about the sex, the act, the release, but with her . . . God, he’d just loved fucking her, making her scream. He shoved away the anxiety that stirred up, forcing himself to focus on now and what he planned to do to her the rest of the night.
“You know I had fun.” Before he realized it, he’d kissed her. It was tender and soft, not overtly sexual. She’d just opened beneath him when he pulled back and stared down into her hazel eyes.
She reached up and traced her fingers along his jaw, moving up to trace his brow. “Thank you.” Her fingertips trailed over his lips, and he nipped at one. A smile bloomed on her face, warming him. She held his gaze, and something in her eyes shifted. “I needed . . . I just needed that. You.”
He wanted to ask her why, but didn’t. She wasn’t his to know, not really. Not in any lasting sense.
Her hand dipped lower, over his shoulder and down his arm. Her fingers traced over the edges of his tattoo. The angel wings he’d gotten to mark himself with the loss he’d suffered.
“I like these,” she whispered.
He sucked in a sharp breath, his heart pounding, knowing she wouldn’t like them if she knew what they meant.
He had to get her out of his system. It was so fucking easy to get personal with her, and he couldn’t let himself go down that road. So he’d spend tonight making the time he had with her count, knowing there wouldn’t be more.
Despite the voice in his head telling him not to, he placed another soft kiss on her mouth. She relaxed against him again, and he could’ve just stayed like that, holding her.
But he shouldn’t want to hold her, and he forced himself to slip back into the role he was playing tonight.
“I’m not done with you,” he whispered. He squeezed her hip and then let her go, rolling out of bed.
“Again?” Her eyes widened, but she smiled in appreciation as she looked down at his erection.
He grinned as he rifled through his backpack and pulled out a blindfold. It was black silk, and he held it up for her to see. “This time I want you to feel me without watching, but first . . .” He walked back over to stand next to the bed, taking her in where she lay on her side propped up on an elbow. He traced his fingertips down her shoulder, her arm, her hip. Her lips parted as she gasped. So fucking responsive to his touch. He wondered if she’d still be as submissive with the restraints off. He tapped her thigh. “Open. I want to see that gorgeous pussy.”
Her hesitation was only a second, barely there at all. He smiled in satisfaction as she rolled onto her back and let her thighs fall apart, but he kept his gaze locked on hers. “Good girl.” He moved slowly, dragging two fingers down the soft skin of her inner thigh to build up her anticipation. Her breath came in soft pants as he moved closer to his goal. Finally he touched her, and her hips jerked as her eyes closed. Only then did he allow himself to look at her pussy, so beautiful and swollen for him. He moved his fingertips down her slit to dip inside, his thumb circling her clit. She flexed her hips, reaching for more and groaning in disappointment when he pulled back.
Her eyes flew open and she watched him bring his fingers to his mouth. He sucked them. “You taste good, baby.”
“Please, Gabe.” Her eyes were wide and she glanced down at where he’d touched her.
He smiled, knowing the dirty words turned her on, knowing that she needed to be prodded to say them. “Please what?”
She looked back up at him and her expression was so tortured and desperate that he almost took pity on her. “Please,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “You have to ask for what you want, sweet girl.”
She took a shuddering breath. “Please, can I have your mouth on my pussy?”
He chuckled and rubbed a knuckle across her cheek. “Such a good girl.” He pressed a knee into the bed as he knelt beside her. When he held up the blindfold, she nodded. “Close your eyes.” She obeyed and raised her head enough that he could lay the silk over her eyes and tie it behind her head. When he was done, she relaxed into the pillow and he stroked a hand down her chest and cupped her breast, reassuring her with his touch. He gently took her light brown nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed, drawing a gasp from her. She looked beautiful lying there, waiting for his next command. His to do with as he wanted. His. It was a dangerous thought, and he couldn’t seem to shake it.
“Grab the bottom of the headboard.” She obeyed without questioning him, raising her arms above her head to grasp the padded headboard. He leaned forward so that he spoke near her ear, and whispered, “I’m gonna lick your sweet little pussy until you can’t take any more. Then, if you’re good and don’t let go, I’ll fuck you and let you come. But if you’re bad and let go, I’m going to come on your tits instead. Only good girls get cock.”
She groaned, arching her neck as she writhed, already needing his touch. “Gabe . . . I’ll be good . . . please.”
“I know you will, baby.” He honestly didn’t know which one he preferred. Oh, he planned to fuck her again tonight more than once, but coming on those gorgeous tits, claiming them as his, had been a fantasy he’d had since that night in the restaurant.
Letting her go, he climbed onto the bed and leaned down between her thighs. She was trembling, her thighs stiff with tension as she waited. He placed an openmouthed kiss on the soft skin of her inner thigh and gently rubbed his cheek against her, soothing her. He wasn’t sure if she was always this nervous, or if it was because of the newness of the restraints and the blindfold. She settled down immediately and the power of her trust moved through him, making him crave more. He forced those thoughts away and worked his way down her body. He took in a deep breath, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her arousal. “You smell amazing, Megan.”
She made a sound, a wordless plea, and rocked her hips toward him. He smiled at her eagerness and rewarded it with a gentle lick along her seam. She opened herself wider, giving herself to him without any reservations. It brought out something in him he hadn’t felt in a long time. Possessiveness, tenderness, a need to claim her as if she was his prize.
He growled as he opened his mouth over her pussy, tasting her, unable to get enough. She cried out and it fed his inner caveman, stoking his need to possess her even higher. He stroked her with his tongue, circling her clit with the tip before flattening it against her and giving her some relief. She moved with him, begging for more as she built toward an orgasm faster than he thought she would after coming so hard just minutes ago. When he felt her get close, he backed off, dropping soft kisses on her inner thigh. He was so hard that he ground himself against the mattress, but he couldn’t stop teasing her, pushing her until she broke. He built her up a second time, and she tossed her head on the pillow, needing release, her hips bucking so hard that he wrapped his arms around her thighs to keep her still.
“Please, God, please fuck me,” she cried. The tendons in her arms strained as she gripped the headboard tightly.
Gabe let her go and bounced to his knees, his hands shaking as he grabbed a condom from the bedside table. His gaze was on the beautiful woman writhing beneath him as he tore the wrapper open. He lined up with her entrance and was just about to push inside when her arm went around his shoulders, and he stilled. She gasped and immediately put her hand back under the headboard. “I’m sorry.” Her legs tightened around his waist, as though she could hold him there if he chose to pull away and make good on his threat.
“I should punish you for that.”
“Please, please.” She was barely coherent now as she moved beneath him, trying to find relief. “Fuck me. I need you.”
As enticing as the idea of punishing her was, he was too far gone to change course now. He pushed into her in one deep thrust, making both of them cry out. Pinpricks of light flashed behind his eyelids as he held himself deep inside her. When the initial wave of pleasure had subsided and his body craved more, he let go of her hip and smacked her ass, hard. Hard enough to leave a handprint. His handprint, marking her. It was all the punishment he could muster right now. She yelped at the contact, and her pussy tightened around him. The yelp became a cry as her body clenched again and he realized she was coming. Fuck. His girl liked punishment.
That realization was the end of his self-control. He rode her through her orgasm, taking her hard until he followed her. The most intense orgasm of his life crashed through him, and he came with a shout.
The aftershocks pulsed through him, pounding in time with the two syllables echoing through his brain.
Megan.
Megan glanced down at her phone, rereading the email from Elliott Wagner, her editor at Mosaic, while she waited for him in his office. The subject line Please come in was followed by an equally short-and-to-the-point email: We need to talk about Gabriel Maddox.
Megan’s heart picked up in her chest as her eyes skimmed over Gabe’s name. It had been two days since their night together, when he’d screwed her senseless and opened her eyes to everything she could have, with the right man. Two days since he’d marked her with his handprint and left that hotel room with a small piece of her heart. Maybe more than a small piece.
She’d been surprised at how much she’d liked that hard slap on her ass, the burn on her skin melting her insides and pushing her over the edge. Never in a million years would she have thought she’d get off on being handled roughly. She hadn’t expected Gabe to spank her like that, but she was glad he’d chosen that punishment instead of not sliding deep inside her. She’d been so desperate for him that it might’ve broken her heart a little if he’d held himself back. She smiled, remembering how far gone he’d been. Being blindfolded had seemed to heighten all of her other senses, and she’d felt his hands trembling against her thighs.
A part of her wondered if she shouldn’t have liked it, or if she should feel guilty about coming so hard thanks to his hand on her ass. But she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad about anything they’d done, because even though she’d been the one restrained, it had been the most sexually liberating experience of her life.
For the first time since the cancer, she’d felt free in bed, and she knew that freedom had come through her submission, and her trust in Gabe to take care of her. He’d fucked her four times that night, and she was a bit hazy on the number of orgasms she’d had. Six? Seven? Whatever the number, it was record-shattering. She’d fallen asleep, utterly sated and exhausted, and when she’d woken a few hours later, Gabe had been gone. She’d known he would be, but the disappointment had been crushing just the same.
Before checking out of the room, she’d taken a long, hot shower, her body sore and tender, and yet she’d felt less broken than she had in a long time. Maybe it was the release that had come with all the orgasms, but standing in that luxurious shower, she’d felt as though something inside her had cracked open, and she hadn’t been able to hold back the sobs. Wave after wave of emotion had crashed into her. Gratitude for what she’d experienced. Disappointment that there wouldn’t be more. A bittersweet yearning, coupled with bone-deep satisfaction.
She’d cried until she couldn’t anymore, letting it all out, letting the hot water and the cathartic tears meld her cracks, forming her into something new. Still damaged, but better, somehow.
“Ah, Megan. I’m glad you’re here.” Elliott Wagner walked in, a phone in one hand and a tablet in the other. As one of the managing editors at Mosaic, he was busy, his time parceled out in fifteen-minute increments by his highly efficient assistant.
She sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk. “You said in your email that we need to talk about Gabriel Maddox?” she asked as Elliott settled himself behind his messy desk. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she wondered if someone had spotted her and Gabe together. Although it wasn’t uncommon for a journalist to sleep with a source, it was definitely a gray area on the journalistic integrity spectrum.
Elliott typed quickly, bringing something up on his screen. “Your first article went live a couple of weeks ago. I know you’re finishing up the second right now, and we can talk about that in a bit.” He tilted his head. “Did you read the comments?”
She leaned back in her chair, relaxing when it didn’t seem as though she was about to be called onto the carpet for sleeping with one of her subjects. Smiling, she shook her head. “No. Isn’t that the number one rule of the Internet? Never read the comments?”
Elliott let out a little laugh. “Fair enough. But we moderate the comments—no trolling, flaming, or other bad behavior. You want to know what the most popular topic was?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“Gabriel Maddox. You painted a picture of this mysterious, intriguing figure, and our readers want more. They liked Giannakis and Oliveira too, but you piqued everyone’s curiosity about Maddox.” Elliott’s eyes skimmed down the screen. “Here, you wrote, ‘Maddox seems to find a calming beauty in the brutal pain of the sport. One can’t help but wonder what would push a man to seek solace in violence.’ ” He glanced up at her, and she did her best to keep her expression neutral. She couldn’t help but wonder what drove Gabe not just to fight, but to conduct his sex life the way he did. She knew what she’d gotten out of the experience, but what did he get out of it? Sure, it was fun and sexy, but there had to be a deeper reason behind it.
“This is gold, Megan, and we want more. Interview Maddox again. Shadow him. Build on this. I want him to feature heavily in your third article.”
Megan’s mouth went dry. She managed to nod. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I can do that.”
She’d been trying not to think about what she’d say to him when she inevitably saw him again. She didn’t want to think about that moment in the future, because it meant their night together was well and truly in the past. She wanted to stay in the now, where his handprint was still on her ass, the flesh between her legs still a bit tender. She wanted to hang on to the beauty of what they’d shared. The trust, and the passion, and the pleasure. The connection. He’d set her free for those few hours, and she couldn’t even fully describe what that meant to her. Her chest tightened, a melancholy ache taking root there, right in the vicinity of her heart.
But had their night together meant anything to him? She wanted to believe it had, but she really didn’t have anything to base that on. He was obviously experienced in everything they’d done together, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just been another conquest in a long line of tied-up and spanked women.
The idea of him being with another woman turned her stomach a little, and she tried to push the thought away. She had no right to feel jealous or possessive. They’d agreed to one night, nothing more. And Gabriel Maddox didn’t strike her as a man who changed his mind once it was set.
“Is there a problem?” Elliott studied her, a small frown on his face.
She smiled and shook her head. “No, not at all. Sorry. Just thinking.”
Elliott gave her a nod and a tight smile and looked back at his screen.
She’d wanted Gabe so badly that she hadn’t fully thought through the consequences of sleeping with him. She’d been too caught up in her own lust, her own desire, that she’d halfheartedly assured herself that it’d be fine.
She wasn’t fine. Not at all, if she was honest with herself. She wanted a man she couldn’t have. It was only supposed to be one night, but God, she wanted more. So much more. He’d opened her eyes to so much new—feelings, sensations, emotions, a deeper understanding of herself—and she wanted to explore all of that with him. And it wasn’t just the sex, the submission. If that was all there was to it, she could find someone else to tie her up and pull her hair.
It was Gabe. Gorgeous, dark, gruff Gabe. She wanted to be his. Again, and again, and again.
But she clearly needed to figure out a way to be fine because Elliott wanted a tighter focus on Gabe, and that would mean interviewing him again. Spending more time with him. She had no idea how she was supposed to turn off everything she was feeling and be a professional. She wasn’t sure she could, but for the sake of her career, she knew she had to try.
“Maddox is really closed off, but I’ll see what I can do.” She forced herself to meet Elliott’s gaze.
“Great. Readers are really connecting with him, so let’s give them more of what they want.” He tapped a few more keys on his keyboard and then returned his attention to her. “Tell me what you have planned for the second article.”
Relieved to be off of the topic of Gabe, Megan smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “The first article provided an introduction to the WFC and the key players. Nick, Gabe, Leandro, Craig Darcy. A lay of the land, of sorts. The second article goes a little bit more in-depth. I’ve interviewed Craig Darcy in little snippets when I can catch him, and I’ll talk a bit more about the history of the league, how he bought it and turned it into what it is today. Then I’ll look at some of the current problems facing the league, trying to present a balanced view, while also talking about the reality of how these issues affect the fighters.”
Elliott leaned back in his chair, his fingers tented. “Problems like what?”
“Well, for starters, this endorsement deal with Mereo.” She explained the deal to Elliott, its pros and cons for the WFC as a whole, and the negative impact it was having on the fighters. “Some of the fighters are talking about changing leagues, or quitting altogether. There are rumors about unionizing too, but I don’t have any solid sources on that yet.”
Elliott nodded. “Good. I like this. We want it all—the guts and the glory. Go see what else you can find out about the fighters being unhappy.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “What are the other problems?”
“I’d planned on touching on steroid use and the pressure to cover up injuries as well.”
He rapped his knuckles on the desk in approval. “I’d like to see a draft of the second article by the end of the week. Doable?”
“Yeah, definitely.” She’d have to throw herself into her work, but a distraction was exactly what she needed right now. She stood up, slipping her purse over her shoulder. “Anything else?”
“I think we covered it. And don’t forget—more Maddox in the third article.”
She nodded, leaving his office on slightly shaky legs. Honestly, she didn’t know how she was supposed to face Gabe again after the night they’d had. After the things he’d done to her and said to her. After the way he’d made her fall apart. Knowing she wanted more, but couldn’t have it. Suspecting that their night together had meant a lot more to her than it had to him.
But she’d need to figure out a way to move forward. Somehow.