“Yes.” Conrad tagged a short rope from the wall. “If her hands are bound with yours behind you.”
With a few practiced knots, Conrad shackled her wrists with Jay’s and secured them at the middle of his back.
Jay sucked in a breath as Conrad’s hands moved over his wrists. No shed. No oven. Nothing but Charlee’s muscles sheathing his dick and the energy shifting between their joined bodies. He shuddered. The urge to thrust sent his molars crashing together. He was a *-clench away from ejaculating. “Hold still.”
She closed her eyes and twisted her hands against his back until their fingers half-laced together. Her face glowed in the natural light of the room.
“I love your eyelashes.” He smothered them with kisses. “So red. Why didn’t I notice that when you were blonde in St. Louis?”
“Mascara.” Her lips twitched, and her eyes remained closed.
Whack.
Her eyes flew open, and she rose up on his cock. The tiny movement teased electric shocks down his legs. Over her shoulder, Conrad reared back a leather flogger.
Whack. Whack. Whack.
Jay moaned with her as her cunt contracted. He thrust again and again, bucking and grinding, their fingers clenching together and their mouths colliding. With each hit of the flogger, he moved faster, harder. Her breath sharpened, and her tongue slashed urgently with his.
“Jay. Jaaaaay.” Her head fell back, and her body shuddered.
The quake of her release stroked him into a mindless world of sensations, tearing his climax from him in violent waves. “Unnngh, fuck. Oh, fuck. I’m coming.”
Floating down with noisy gasps for air, he dropped his head on her shoulder and savored the sweet aroma of her skin.
She squeezed his fingers and pressed her lips to his ear. “Huntress.”
He felt her message deep inside him. She’d gained what she sought without abusing her safe word. His happiness demanded he kiss her. So he did, thoroughly.
Conrad knelt behind him and unlaced the rope. “We’re scheduled for another hour. I can show you some things to take on the road.”
“Thanks, yeah, let’s do it.” Jay didn’t try to mute his post-coital grin. “But don’t expect me to remember your name in the morning.”
Charlee’s laugh burst through him, split open his heart, and filled it with light.
88
Charlee huddled against Jay in the crowded corridor of Conrad’s apartment building. Eight or nine bodyguards cocooned them, blocking her ability to see the front door and the street beyond. She caught Nathan’s vigilant gaze where he stood beside her and offered him a smile.
He returned it. “The buses have been making laps around the city for the last hour, waiting for you to emerge. They’ll be here any second.”
Her cheeks heated. She’d been so wrapped up in Jay, so eager to watch him take charge in the dungeon, she hadn’t considered the dozens of people waiting for them.
Jay raised her chin with a knuckle. “Don’t worry about them. They have a fucktillion ways to entertain themselves. Rockstars, remember?”
“What about your schedule?”
“What schedule? We don’t have a tour manager anymore.”
Ugh. Thank fuck for that. She wasn’t sure what her expression held, but his blazed with his smile. “Faye will manage all that. For now, we have the next couple days off.”
Behind him, Tony dropped her hand from her ear and hovered it above his arm. The morning after the tattoo, he’d given her leave to touch him, but she still practiced caution. When he nodded, she gripped his elbow and stepped into his side. “Buses just rolled up. Perimeter’s clear. Ready?”
He patted his left shoulder with his right hand, his visual cue.
“Principals are Oscar Mike,” Tony said into the mic on her headset.
With a collective heave, the entire hallway filed through the door and spread into formations over the front lawn. Suit-clad shoulders crowded Charlee’s view, but the rumble of the buses and Jay’s arm around her waist guided her.
Yellowed grass and brick sidewalks blurred beneath her Doc Martens, the humid air abuzz with the distant chatter of onlookers.
“Jay! Jay Mayard! Over here. I want an autograph.” The voices carried from the street. From behind the buses maybe?
The entourage and motorcade must have drawn the crowd, but how had they glimpsed Jay buried in the fold of the security team? Or was Roy behind this?
Her boots hit the curb and she followed Nathan onto the bus. Colson smiled from the driver’s seat. “Welcome back, Miss Grosky.”
“Thanks, Colson.” Her heart calmed to a normal pace as she left Nathan at the front and turned into the aisle.
The guys reclined on the couches in various positions and states of undress. The black hair of a woman’s head bobbed between Rio’s legs. Another woman ate at his mouth. Beside him, two blondes sandwiched Laz in a naked, writhing tango.
On the opposite couch, Wil tossed a pair of briefs over his naked lap and tipped back a beer in a long draw. “Hey, Charlee. Did Jay grovel enough?”