Justify Me (Stark Trilogy 4.5)

I nod, but he doesn't wait for my acquiescence. My nipples are hard as rocks, so it's easy enough for him to attach them. The clamps are adjustable, too, and I'm grateful that he doesn't have them on the tightest setting. Still, the initial pain is sharp, cutting down like a knife through me, and then settling into a fiery need that pools between my thighs.

"Dear God, Natasha," he says once the chain is attached to both my nipples. "Do you have any idea how hard I am just from looking at you?"

I lick my lips, my eyes dropping to his crotch. And yes, considering what I see, I really do have some idea. His erection is pressing so hard against the leather I know it must be painful, and I sigh as a wash of feminine power floods through me. I'm standing here with my nipples clamped, my breasts exposed, and my whole body leashed. I'm completely at his mercy--and yet in that moment I know that I'm the one with the power. The realization is heady, and I'm suddenly even more aware of the clamps on my sensitive nipples, not to mention the throbbing heat between my thighs.

There's another chain that comes off the middle of the steel links that connects my breasts, and I realize that its purpose is the same as my collar. A master could attach a leash, then lead his sub around by the tits.

The idea is wildly arousing, and once again I wonder what's come over me.

Riley.

I tell myself this is all about Riley, because it is. But not in a way that suggests recrimination. More like celebration. Being in this room--hell, even being exposed--is teaching me more about myself and my desires than I've been able to figure out in years of dating men who had no more allure to me than the first guy to take me to a high school football game. Sweet enough, but entirely lacking in chemistry.

What I've missed--what I've craved--is a man willing to truly acknowledge my sexuality. To challenge me. And to hold up a mirror to my own hidden desires.

A man like Riley, who is even now ordering me to tug down my pants. "Then I want you over my knees," he adds.

I hesitate, only now fully realizing that a spanking means I have to bare my ass. I glance around and see that there are a few people standing a respectful distance away. They're watching our scene play out, and while my reasonable side insists that I should want to melt into the floor with mortification, the real me is actually turned on by the existence of the audience.

I comply and tug the pants down enough to expose my ass.

What I don't do is tug down my thong, too. Which means that the audience sees my bare cheeks, but not my waxed pussy. I catch Riley's eye, swallow, and position myself over his knee.

For a moment, he doesn't move, and I hold my breath, afraid he's going to make me stand up and pull down the thong, even though my ass is completely bared to him and anyone else who cares to look.

But he takes pity on me, gently cupping his hand over the curve of my rear and then stroking in gentle circles as he murmurs, "So lovely."

I close my eyes, relaxing under his ministrations. The chair is low enough that I'm comfortable in this position, and I moan slightly in anticipation and longing when he says, "You were naughty not to remove your thong. For that, you'll need to be punished."

He rubs my ass, and then I feel the first sting of his palm on my tender skin. I gasp, the hot prickles of pain like tiny electric shocks. I feel drunk. On submission. On exhibition. On this wild new sensuality that is coursing through me, the explosion of flowers from a garden I didn't even realize I'd planted during my walk through this place with Lyle and Matthew.

A garden that only Riley could make bloom.

His hand comes down on my ass again, and I draw a tremulous breath, imagining the red rising on my ass. A garden, all right, I think. A rose garden.

He spanks me eight more times, rubbing my tender skin gently with each stroke. And when he's done, he opens a small bottle that is sitting in a square storage area in the arm of the chair, then spreads a soothing oil over my sore flesh before sliding his hand down over the curve of my ass to find my core.

I'm so wet and slick I'm dripping, and I whimper as his hand brushes my core, my pussy clenching with the desire to be fucked. His fingertip teases my clit, and though my mind says that I don't want to explode in front of these people, I can't stop myself. I writhe against his hand, seeking pleasure--seeking Riley. Harder and faster until, oh, dear God, I can't hold back any more. The orgasm barrels down over me, ripping me into a million pieces until, finally, I come back to myself, limp and sated over the legs of this man who's shown me more in one night than I could ever have dreamed.

"Come on," he says gently, carefully adjusting my pants and zipping me back up. "We need to go."

"Go? Why?" My entire body is on fire. I don't want to go. I want more.

"Because I need to be inside you, and you're not ready for me to fuck you in public."

"Oh." I swallow, desperately wanting to be home now, but at the same time remembering why we came in the first place. "Do--do you think he noticed us? My stalker, I mean."

One of his brows lifts. "Why don't we make sure of it? Why don't I show off my beautiful sub?"

I meet his eyes, then realize what he means. I swallow, but I don't protest. And I manage to hold my head up high as he leads me toward the exit on my leash, my bodice still wide open, my breasts completely exposed and dressed up in the fancy nipple clamps with the thin silvery chain.

Riley pauses when we reach the door that leads to the first room. The one that is really just a bar with snacks and virgin drinks. "I'm going to take you through like this," he says.

I press my lips tight together. Not in silent protest of what he's told me, but because I'm afraid that otherwise I'll say pineapple. And the truth is, I really don't want to. I want to do this. I want to feel it.

He's taken me this far. I want all of it.

He hesitates long enough to allow me to protest, and when I don't, he takes me the rest of the way through. Heads turn as I walk behind him, and while part of me trembles with the excitement of being on display, another part of me wonders if my stalker is in the crowd. If, perhaps, this will push him to move again. And if, just maybe, that by taking this risk I've paved the way to catching him.

When we reach the door to the reception area, Riley pulls me close, then takes my mouth in his. It's a long, deep, bone-melting kiss, and I press against him, realizing that this is what I've been wanting. Craving. And, yes, what I've been needing. Not the kiss, but the man. A man I tried to push away, but who was stubborn and pushy enough to--thank God--slide back into my life.

When he finally breaks the kiss, we're both breathing hard, and I see my desire reflected back at me. He gently zips up the bodice over the clamps, chuckling at my look of confusion.

"I meant to take them off of you earlier," he said. "To be honest, I was so damn turned on by how responsive you were to my hand on your ass, I completely forgot."

I bite my lower lip. "Why not just take them off now?" It's not hurting anymore--more like a pleasurable, intense sensation--but it's also somewhat awkward under the tight leather bustier.

But he just shakes his head. "Trust me," he says. And since I do, I remain quiet.

When we reach the car, he tells the driver to return to my house, then raises the privacy screen. "You liked that," he says, and I know he's talking about the whole experience. The entire night.

I don't pretend to misunderstand. "Yes," I admit.

"Tell me why."

I consider the question. "Because it felt naughty, and I've never really been naughty. And it felt safe, because I knew you were protecting me."

He gently cups my face. "That's why I'm here. To protect you."

I lick my lips, not sure I should say what's on my mind.

He seems to read my thoughts, though, because all he

says is, "Tell me."

"It's just that I didn't mean that you were protecting me from my stalker. I know that's why we came, but to be honest, I forgot about him most of the time." I draw in a breath for courage. "I meant that it felt like you were protecting me from the world."

I look at him from under my lashes, afraid I've admitted too much. But I see only pleasure reflected on his face.

"That's all I've ever wanted, Natasha. And it kills me to know that most of the time when you look at me, you don't feel protected. You feel sad or afraid. I don't like that seeing me reminds you of all the horrible things that are out there in the world."

"Riley..." I choke on the emotion that clogs my throat. He's talking about the night my father died, and he's right. That's the burden I've forced on him all these years.

But maybe--just maybe--tonight has helped me move past that.

"I'm sorry for that," I say honestly. "But I know you understand how I feel. I know, because you do the same thing."

His brows rise. "I don't think so."

"Yes," I insist. "You do. You see this city and you think only of the bad things. You run from it because it's stained with all the memories you want to leave behind."

His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and I realize he gets it. And knowing that I've given him a new perspective makes me feel powerful. More than that, I want to show him that my perspective on him has changed, too. Not just in the club, but out here in the world. Yes, he reminds me of my father. Yes, he reminds me of that night. But that's not all there is to Riley Blade, and I see a lot more of him now than just those memories that I'd attached to him in my mind.

With a playful little smile, I move onto the wide floorboard, then kneel in front of him.

His brows rise, but he doesn't say anything.

I put my hands on his knees. "I like being your submissive," I say.

His lips twitch. "Do you?"

I nod. "But now it's my turn to take charge."

"Is that so?"

I nod. "You need good memories of this town, Riley." I glance pointedly at his cock. "I think it's time I gave you some."

Chapter Seven

Riley was pretty damn sure that he'd never seen anything more erotic than Tasha's pink tongue licking his rock-hard cock. Good God, the woman surprised him. First in the club, when her combination of open trust and radiant curiosity had almost pushed him over the edge so many times. And now this, when she'd gathered the courage to turn the tables on him in the most delicious way possible--and still managed to be submissive even in the act of taking control.