Chapter 28

"I'm a very good girl," Colette purred, the heat of arousal burning through the cold that had plagued her during her conversation with the three Doms.

Landon leaned back, bracing his shoulders against the door and watching her from beneath his long, dark lashes. "Take off your clothes, Colette."

She wasn't sure the corset and panties even qualified as clothes, but she reached for the front closures of the corset, gently rolling it into a tube once it was off. Stripping off the panties was actually a little more difficult, the wet gusset clinging to her labia.

But something in his gaze shifted, his body tensing as he looked at her.

"I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "For putting you on display in the club."

"Why are you sorry?"

Landon pushed away from the door. He came up to her, but didn't touch her. "I shouldn't have even touched you, let alone topped you, given what you went through."

"You didn't know I'd gone through something, because I didn't tell you," she countered. He hadn't actually gotten her all the way naked on that stage, but she doubted pointing out that technicality would help.

He growled low in his throat. "You should have told me before we agreed to scene."

"Yes. I should have. But then you might not have touched me."

"I'd still have touched you, but if I'd know he kept you chained up, naked, and let other men look at you, I wouldn't have stripped you in front of the rest of the club."

Colette bowed her head at the same time she reached out and gripped the sides of his shirt, holding on to him like he was an anchor.

"I didn't realize you'd picked up on that," she said softly. She'd tried to be carefully not to explicitly say that he'd forced her to remain naked.

"I know you left out details of what he did to you." Landon cupped her neck, thumb smoothing over her cheek, but he didn't force her to look at him. "And you don't have to tell me, but I'm going to go slow, be careful."

"In case I have any other new hard limits." She was trying for wry amusement, but didn't quite manage it.

"Yes, but it doesn't just have to be a hard limit. I'm going to go slow in case something I do triggers you to remember or re-experience that trauma." His hand slid to her shoulder, squeezing. "You escaped after two fucking weeks of imprisonment, came to me for help, and I tossed you around like the fucking asshole I am."

She raised her face to his, smiling. "I like it when you toss me around."

A muscle in his jaw clenched.

Releasing his shirt, she reached up to stroke his face. "I do," she insisted. "Because I knew you'd never really hurt me."

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning a little into her touch the way she so often did his.

"I don't want you to be hesitant with me," she said. "I need you to…" Own me, possess me, use me. "…touch me," she finished, just enough of a coward that she pulled back from speaking the depth of her need.

"I will," he promised, but she could see the reservation in his eyes.

Colette stepped away, and he let her go, shoving his hands into his pockets. She spun, studying the room. There was no bed, but there was a padded table, spanking bench, and an overstuffed brown leather couch with a high back. The couch was a bit incongruous, but when she walked over, she realized the back, especially with the heavily padded cushions that wrapped over the top, was perfect height for fucking.

Colette hopped up, sitting sideways on one arm of the couch, her feet on the cushion. "Join me?"

She gathered her courage as Landon ambled over, his hands still jammed in his pockets. He paused at a large floor basket, pulling out one of her carefully rolled blankets and offering it to her. Colette shook it out, starting to whirl it over her shoulders when Landon took it from her, carefully draping it over her naked back. She gripped both edges in one hand, resting her fist on her thigh.

Landon took a seat at the other end of the couch, one knee on the cushion as he turned to face her.

"He never raped me," she said softly.

"If he put his fingers inside you, that's rape."

She dipped her head in acknowledgement. "True, but that felt more like…assault. It's hard to explain, but he was almost clinical."

"That's… Er." Landon frowned.

"He treated me the way I treat jewelry when I assess it." She paused, thinking it through. "Actually no, I'm careful with jewelry, and by the time he chained me to his bed that first night, he'd beaten me bloody." She touched her nose, then her left eye. "I was bleeding, and this eye was swollen closed. He kicked me in the stomach a few times when I was on the floor."

"Fucking hell."

Maybe she'd used up all her worry and fear, and that's why she was able to give him specifics without choking on emotion. "He had cuffs already attached to the headboard, and once he had me on the bed, he started touching me."

The first lick of shame skittered across her abdomen. "It was a relief that he was just touching me, rather than hitting me."

"Of course it was."

"I expected him to rape me, when he spread my legs, but…" She shrugged fatalistically. "He tried to put one finger into me. It hurt. He could barely get it in." She winced, remembering the pressure and burning sensation of his dry finger trying to shove its way inside her.

"He looked so satisfied. That's when he said I must be a virgin, and that since I was, he'd wait until we were married."

The memory of what it had felt like, laying there helpless and in pain as she realized Damien was a lunatic, was vivid in her mind.

"You were right," she said, breaking out of the memory. "He kept me naked, even when he moved me to his office. It would have been humiliating, except he stabbed the first man who made a comment about my body."

"Stabbed one of his own guys?"

"Yes."

"Fuck." Landon drew out the vowel, shaking his head slightly.

"After that, no one even looked at me." She fiddled with the edge of the blanket. "Unless he invited them too. Sometimes when people came into the office, he'd make me show off whatever art or antiquity he'd given me that day, and occasionally, after I gave a little lecture on the piece, he'd point out his favorite parts of me."

Colette took a breath. "I think…I think I probably need to set a hard limit for objectification. Having someone talk about me, but not to me…" She shook her head. "I felt like a sculpture at auction, naked and frozen. All I could do was listen as he talked about my breasts, my ass…" She let out a weak laugh. "My ankles. He really had a thing for my ankles."

"Come here, love."

Colette glanced at his face, and her throat tightened with tears. She crawled across the couch and onto his lap, curling up in his arms as he tucked the blanket over her toes and around her shoulders.

"I rarely cry," she whispered. "I know you won't believe it. Why should you, when all I do with you is cry?"

"Cry if you need to. It's a fucking honor that you feel safe in my arms."

She snuggled in closer. "I don't want to cuddle and cry. I want to fuck."

"We have time for both."

"The club's open tonight. I have to work."

"No. Not tonight."

"Rolf—"

"Rolf can go fuck himself." Landon's arms tightened around her. "Though I'm glad you went to him for aftercare. I should have gone to them myself and asked them to take care of you."

Colette sat up, straddling his thighs. She wore the blanket like a cloak, draped over her shoulders but open in the front. Landon's hands slid up her bare thighs to cup her hips, fingertips flexing gently against her skin.

"It was awful," she said softly, "but after the first night, though I was always scared because I couldn't predict what he'd do, it felt more like I was in a labyrinth rather than a prison."

"The situation was a puzzle you could solve."

"Yes." Colette gripped his wrists, pressing his hands tighter against her. "Damien is either mad or so dangerous that he's able to indulge every aberrant impulse and no one dares stop him or even comment on his actions."

"And he's fixated on you."

Colette shivered, though she was warm enough with the blanket over her back and shoulders. "I don't understand why."

Landon winced in an exaggerated way. "As someone who's also been looking for you for years, I probably shouldn't say anything."

She laughed, as she knew he'd intended.

It would have been a good moment to transition the conversation, and their interaction, back to sex. Though her desire had faded given what they'd been talking about, she was still aroused and ready for him.

Landon's thoughts must have mirrored hers. "If you want to just go to bed, it's been a long night..."

It wasn't that late, but clearly, he was willing to pretend it was if she needed it.

"That's not what I want." She started to smile, but realized something. "If you're not comfortable topping me now that you know what happened…"

They were both hesitant, unsure.

Landon cupped her face with both hands. "Are you worrying that I don't want you now that I know? Fuck, Colette, nothing could be further from the truth."

"We could just have sex again," she offered.

"Now you're thinking that I don't want to dominate you." His gaze bore into her. "Again, you're wrong. I want you helpless and begging me to fuck you. I want to fuck you until the only thing you can say is my name as you beg me for more."

She didn't know if her need to submit sexually was something inherently hers, or if being trained as a sub when she was still relatively sexually inexperienced had forever altered what she wanted and needed from sex.

Whatever the reason, despite the fact that Damien had forcibly taken control of her body for a time, right now she desperately wanted to give control of not just her body, but her soul, to Landon.

Consent and context changed everything.

"Are you telling me to get on my knees and beg you to fuck my mouth?" she asked.

Landon gripped her by the neck, pulling her in with a hard little jerk. She gasped, tipping her head back as his mouth replaced his hand on her throat. Hot, damp lips slid from the corner of her jaw down to her collarbone.

Big hands cupped her ass, guiding her to straighten until she was no longer sitting back against his thighs, but kneeling up. The blanket fell off her shoulders.

"Does it bother you," he asked softly, "being naked while I'm dressed?"

"No. Nothing about this reminds me of what happened. This feels right."

Landon gently cupped her breasts. Her scalp tingled and her toes curled. He hadn't even touched her nipples, yet the pleasure was acute. The very act of being touched by him, in even a small way, was titillating.

Colette slid her hands into his hair. Not pulling or guiding him, merely forging a second connection point between them, like completing an electrical circuit.

When he leaned in and closed his lips over her right nipple, Colette knew, with a certainty rooted in her soul, that no one would ever make her feel the way Landon did. What they had was a once-in-a-lifetime chemistry and connection.

And that fact changed nothing. Because they had no future, and come tomorrow, she was going to disappear.