She tried to move, and he pressed her shoulders down mercilessly, even as his finger entered her again. Held down, invaded. The helpless feeling sent heat roaring through her, increasing every sensation.

When he abandoned her pussy, she whimpered at the loss.

Slick fingers touched her buttocks. Then he slapped her bottom. Harder, much harder than before, and she yelped, then moaned as, somehow, the pain moved into her sensitive pussy, sending her even higher into need. “I want—”

“Little sub…” His open hand came down on her bottom with a smacking sound, and the stinging impact seared straight to her clit. “You will get only what I give you.” Two more remorseless slaps; her bottom burned like fire.

His hand returned to her pussy.

Oh, yes. She tried to open her legs farther, and the bar stopped her, reminding her of her helplessness. Her clit throbbed, pulsing intensely. Just one touch, one more, and she'd get off. “Please—”

“If I hear you speak again, I'll gag you and strap you to the wall,” Cullen said and drove two fingers into her.

“Oh oh oh.” She tried to arch at the intense pleasure and couldn't move. Dios. He pulled his fingers back and thrust harder. Her nerves flared as her vagina stretched around him. The throbbing arousal moved deep inside her, trying to merge with her clit. Oh, Dios, almost. She heard whimpering. Her. She pressed her lips together.

Two more stinging swats drove her higher, each impact creating a sizzling wave straight down to her pussy. Her legs, held firmly apart by the bar, trembled.

His fingers slid into her again. In, out, circling her clit, in out. Everything inside her coiled tighter and tighter, and she tensed. Her fingernails scratched the floor. Nothing to hold. She grabbed his ankle, digging her fingernails in.

“Hang on, sweetie,” he murmured. His fingers drove into her again, pressing deep, deeper. The hand on her shoulders disappeared, and then he slapped her bottom so hard that brilliant fire shot through her.

“Come for me, pet.” A finger slid over her clit, right on top, rubbing, the exquisite sensations too…too…

The explosion ripped outward in searing waves of pleasure. She buried her face against her arm as cries escaped her. Her hips bucked under his hand.

Before the spasms inside her had ceased, his fingers plunged into her, and he slapped her butt, sharp, stinging strokes—and she came again, shaking hard. Her spasming vagina seemed to collide against the thick intrusion inside, sending more convulsions through her.

When her hips wiggled, he pinned her with a hard hand on her bottom, keeping her from moving, as his fingers thrust in and out. The unyielding control triggered another tremor through her.

His hand eased as her quivering lessened. When he removed his fingers from inside her, she couldn't suppress the whine as her whole body shuddered, toes to shoulders. Her heart pounded so hard she felt the impact against her ribs. Dios mío. She didn't try to move, just lay there like a ragdoll over his knees as he stroked her back.

“You come beautifully, love.” His low voice made her insides quiver as if he'd entered her again. “Sit up now.” He lifted her and sat her on his lap, his big hands settling her as easily as if she'd been that ragdoll.

Her skin, damp with sweat, started to cool, and she shivered. Mouth dry, she sat stiffly as he reached down and unbuckled the bar holding her legs apart. It dropped with a nasty thud on the hardwood floor, and she put her knees together, hiding her swollen parts.

What was she doing here on a stranger's lap? This felt wrong. In the center of a room full of people, she felt horribly alone. Her skin grew more sensitive, and the glances of the members around the scene area scraped against her like a hard-bristled brush. She stared down at her hands clenched in her lap. I want to go home now.

Why did she feel so upset? I got what I wanted, and it had been great. A mind-blowing orgasm. But shouldn't there be more? Her chest felt hollow, too empty even for the tears that prickled at her eyes. Dios, she would not—would not—break down and cry.

He started to pull her closer, and she resisted. He stilled. A big hand brushed over her tightly woven fingers, and then he lifted her chin.

She wrenched her face from his grip and looked away.

“No, love, look at me.” His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb under her chin exerted steady pressure as his voice deepened. “Look at me.”

Knowing her eyes must be watery, she met his narrowed gaze.

“Ah. Like that is it?” Ignoring her attempt to pull back, he leaned her against his chest, his hard arms enfolding her in his warmth. “Austin,” he called. “A blanket, please.”

A second later, his embrace loosened, and he wrapped a fuzzy, soft blanket around her. He rose, lifting her, his biceps bulging with the effort.

Her head spun, and she inhaled sharply. “What…?”

“Shhh, little sub.” He walked across the room to one of the more secluded areas and chose a low chair, leaning back so she rested against his chest. He pressed her head down into the hollow of his shoulder. On this side of the club, the Gregorian music throbbed like a heartbeat; the voices and noise of the room dimmed to only a murmur.

“I'm leaving.” Her voice came out slurred, as if she'd sucked down a bottle of gin.

“No. You need to let me hold you for a while until you recover.” She could feel his chin rub over the top of her head, the press of his lips. “You've had a rough night, but I didn't expect you to drop like that.” A low chuckle. “What are you going to do after a flogging or wax play?”

She was so…elsewhere…that the words didn't even bring up a good scare. She laid her cheek against his soft leather vest and breathed in his masculine scent. His arms tightened around her, gripping her so firmly she couldn't move, and his strength gave her comfort rather than fear. As his hand stroked her hair, as the empty spot inside her started to fill, she could feel her feet and her arms. Like she'd stepped back into her body again.

Footsteps. Austin whispered, “Master Z said to bring you this stuff. He said his kitten likes chocolate.”

Something settled on the blankets in Andrea's lap. “Thank you, Austin,” Señor's voice rumbled under her ear. “Return to Master Z and tell him, 'Thank you, Mommy.'”

“Sir,” Austin sounded appalled. “I can't do that.”

“Do just that.” As Austin's footsteps receded, Master Cullen reached inside the blanket and pulled out Andrea's arm. He put a bottled water in her hand, curling her fingers around it, and guiding it to her mouth. She took a sip, and it stuck before finally going down.

“Again,” he said, and she swallowed another. Suddenly her mouth felt horribly dry, the water like a rare treasure, and she sat up and started drinking greedily.

A rumbling laugh. “There we go.”

When she'd finished most of the water, she stopped with a sigh. “Thank you.”

He set the bottle on the end table beside the chair and picked up something from her lap. “Open up.”

Feeling like a baby, and just the thought made tears prickle in her eyes again, she obeyed. Chocolate—Hershey's. The rich flavor swirled through her mouth, and she moaned, then looked up to see Señor studying her, a faint smile on his face.

Ignoring her hand, he fed her another square of chocolate. When she sighed in pleasure, his eyes crinkled. “I can see an easy way to reward you from now on.”

She leaned her head against his chest, the hollowness inside her gone, replaced by warm contentment. “Chocolate's better than sex any day.”

Oh, rude, she realized when amusement lit his eyes. His eyebrows rose, bringing back the memory of his fingers stroking her clit, then filling her.

She quivered, and her cheeks warmed. “Well, so I thought.”

His laugh filled the area, and the way he snuggled her closer completely topped off her happiness meter.

* * *

What a pretty day. Andrea stepped out on Antonio's balcony and paused. As gorgeous puffy clouds floated across a deep blue sky, the palm trees dotted around the apartment complex swayed in the cool, salt-laden breeze. A row of sea gulls lined up on the next building's roof with military precision, in marked contrast to her best friend slouched down in a chair.

“Hard night?” She set a cup of coffee in front of him.

“I'm getting too old to party, and doesn't that suck?” Antonio muttered. With dark circles under his eyes, his color almost gray, and his breath nasty enough to kill a rhinoceros, he'd definitely overindulged. “Why are you so disgustingly cheerful? Weren't you at the Shadowlands last night?”

She rubbed his shoulder in sympathy and took a chair across the small, round café table. “I was. But the place has a two-drink limit; even if I wanted to get plowed, they wouldn't let me.”

But a couple of strong drinks before leaving might have helped her forget Señor's merciless hands holding her, controlling her. The memories had kept her awake and aroused most of the night. She shifted in the chair, uncomfortably aware of her tender bits and bottom. Especially her bottom.

“Things going all right?” He sucked coffee down with the single-mindedness of a junkie needing a fix.

“Good enough.” No, she owed Antonio more than a throwaway answer. She took a bite of the still-warm glazed donut. Sugar high, caffeine, a friend to talk with, a special man to see tonight—who could ask for better? “Really good, actually. Thanks for getting me in there, although I'm not sure how you did it. Are you and M—Cullen friends?”

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