Chapter Seventeen
Her long, sweet moan was one of the most beautiful things Garrett had ever heard. In it, he heard everything she couldn’t tell him in words. Her shock. Her joy. And her complete, open surrender. She was bypassing her fear, her independence, and this outright shitty circumstance to give herself to him. To lay her body and her life completely in his hands.
She moved him. Amazed him. Made him love her more deeply than he ever had.
And made him yearn to reclaim her, even if he had to do it in front of an audience of animals.
He walked behind the St. Andrews Cross on the pretense of double-checking the cinches in the bonds but instead used the moment to get his face in front of hers. “Sugar, we had to present ourselves to this ass-munch as sadistic pricks with money. I can’t give your sweet ass much of a warm up on this, and I’m sorry. If it’s unbearable, give me your Girl Scout Promise, okay? Right hand, three fingers up. Moan for me if you understand.”
Sage lifted her head and let out a long, convincing keen. Her motion threw her face into the beams of the dungeon lights, and he saw the sheen of tears on them. An inferno burned through his chest, and he had to envision steel ropes around his wrists to keep from reaching up to her shimmery cheeks. He took a deep breath and prayed at least a few of the drops were from happiness.
After he walked back in front of the cross, he turned to the well-stocked supplies area. King must have raided every BDSM stockpile within fifty miles. A wooden pole sprouted about twenty floggers. Next to that, a whip rack was stocked just as fully. There was also a large cabinet with lighted shelves that were organized by toy type—dildos, clamps, inserts, electrosex devices, canes, crops, paddles…
There were more, but Garrett stopped at the paddles. Knowing King watched his every move, he bypassed the leather and fur-covered beginner versions, going for stricter devices such as a Scottish tawse and a long suede dragon’s tail.
He tested each implement on his forearm, as Zeke had instructed him. The action made it possible for him to throw a fast glance over at his friend. Z was ready with a reassuring nod, though that did nothing to help the guy from looking like a Hell’s Angels reject in his fake beard and nose. Wyatt’s ensemble was no better, with dark glasses and a false paunch that put him into Bad Santa territory.
But the three of them had long since passed the minutes of ribbing each other about their disguises. They were deep in the lion’s den now. Though Garrett had prayed the events wouldn’t come to this, the only way out was distracting the beasts long enough so Z and Wyatt could quietly let Josie and Rayna in on their identities, along with the main goals here.
They’d conduct a clean deal to “purchase” the girls from King. All the evidence would be monitored live, captured from Z’s necktie cam. As soon as they left, the Feds would take over, arresting King again, hauling his ass back off to FDC Sea-Tac. There would be a special treat waiting for him when he arrived—a cellmate. The goons with the tampon box van had easily spilled about King’s twin brother. Mua and King would be watched day and night until their arraignment, now being rushed to priority status thanks to the dozen or more charges this stunt added to their crimes.
“Ahhh, the dragon’s tail. Excellent choice.”
Speak of the fucking devil. King murmured the approving words with a matching smile, speaking like Garrett was simply checking out fishing rods. Garrett had to consciously tell his lips to give an answering smirk instead of grabbing one of the whips and saving FDC a shitload of money, effort, and paperwork by just strangling the bastard right now.
“You think so?” He forced civility to the reply.
King nodded. “It gives better control than a whip yet yields just as much…fun.”
“Hmm.” Garrett had to navigate his brain past not only his fur but the need that stung every inch of his cock since the second he’d gotten Sage naked. Damn it, the cramped quarters in this fancy suit weren’t helping matters one bit.
In an impatient heat, he shucked the jacket and then shoved it against King’s chest. “Well then, my friend, why don’t you take care of this for me, have yourself a seat, and let me proceed to the ‘fun.’” He jabbed his head at a plush chair in a corner to the right. The selection wasn’t by accident. King would be across the room from all the guards, who were rapidly dropping into the zero-effectiveness zone thanks to their fixation on his nude fiancée.
It would be a miracle if he got out of here tonight without killing someone.
He needed to focus on Sage. On getting her out of here, away from this cocksucker’s clutches forever.
King complied with his directive like an unthinking puppy. Thank fuck that even the thought of a few Benjamins turned the asshole’s mind to applesauce. The relief allowed Garrett to take a measured breath, knowing it would be the last of its kind for a while. Once he turned back to Sage, all bets would be off on his lungs cooperating with his brain. He had a feeling the command center between his ears was going to be busy controlling other things. Well, trying to.
Hell.
The speculation was more accurate than he estimated.
Though he was the one who’d locked her to the cross that way, beholding her anew was a jolt that stopped his feet, burned his veins, and swelled his cock with aching heat. No wonder all the guards were standing there like lusting gorillas. With her body opened in this position, one could admire every nuance of her figure. She’d always been glorious, but with the muted lighting of the room playing across her stretched naked limbs, she became a siren of sensuality, a vessel of surrender, waiting for a commander to harness her, tame her, possess her.
Eat shit, you motherfuckers. I’m that commander.
He made sure every step he took communicated that message, making the little crowd of perverts back up as he paced out a semicircle in front of the cross. As he moved closer to Sage, her shoulders went taut and her ass cheeks clenched. That sight alone made his erection surge against his pants. Christ, she was magnificent. All naked sinew, dewy skin, and writhing anticipation. Tiny tremors raced along her body, confirming a fact that hit him like a lightning bolt—every sensation she was going to feel, every bite of pain and drop of arousal, was now under his control. The power was so intoxicating, he was damn glad he’d only sipped at the wine King had offered earlier. He was well on his way to the best high of his life, pumped on this heady exhilaration, this rush of power, this gift of complete trust.
Holy hell, why had he denied himself this for so long?
And why the fuck did he pick the shittiest times to arrive at major life epiphanies?
He dropped his head, the only reasonable method he could manage to clear it. Continuing to fill his stare with Sage was not the key there. He’d damn near blown his cover a minute ago just by gazing too long, which had almost turned into the catastrophe of going over to her again, of touching her. He would’ve run his hands everywhere too…anywhere. Up her beautiful arms. Down her tapered legs. Across her belly…and then lower. He would’ve dipped into the crevice of her pouting sex and lingered there for a long while. He would’ve awakened her skin and stirred her senses, coaxing her body to prepare itself for the impacts to come…