No Limits: A Dark Romance Page 12

  Mr. Robinson glares but nods slightly. He doesn't want to cause an issue in front of the patrons, and he walks away without saying anything else. Rafe watches him go, then turns to me. “Sorry, took a little longer than I thought.”

  “What is the Black Room?” I ask, having never heard of it before. “Don't you mean the Blue Room?”

  Rafe shakes his head, taking me by the hand. “No. The Black Room. What did Mr. Robinson want with you?”

  I tell him what Mr. Robinson wants with me, and Rafe's face clouds but he dismisses it with a nod, as if he’s storing it away for later. “Come with me. Let me show you the Black Room.”

  We go around the bar and down a short hallway. I've never been this way before. I thought this was just a service area. We go around a curve and up a flight of stairs to a door that's locked with a magnetic card lock. Rafe takes out a card from his inner jacket pocket and swipes it. The lock goes from red to green and he leads me inside. As soon as the door closes, the lights flicker on, and I feel like my breath is taken away.

  “This room . . .” I start, looking around. If I thought the Blue Room was luxurious, the Black Room makes it look like a Motel 6. The toys that line the shelves on the wall are each nestled in their own black velvet-lined case like precious jewels. The floor is light panels, a dim silvery light that doesn't glare but looks almost like moonlight as I step across it, seeing the familiar spots for the attachment of devices. Spreader bar, suspension rig, a sex swing, all of it can be set up here, and all of it looks like it was designed for the space. “It's like BDSM heaven. Or hell, if that's your thing.”

  I turn, realizing I may have just been triggered, but I still can’t stop myself. “So you wanna tie me up and fuck me, huh? Maybe a little nipple clamp fun?”

  “No,” Rafe says, his voice slightly rough and powerful. “That isn't why I brought you here. Fight, Shawnie.”

  His words pierce straight through to me, and I snap my head up, straining against the demon. “Rafe . . . what are we doing?” I ask finally, shakily. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “To help you fight what's inside you,” he says, his voice commanding but tender. “Shawnie, I want you to take off your clothes and lie down on the bed.”

  I turn, looking at the huge bed, and gulp. “Rafe . . . I'm scared.”

  He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and whispering in my ear. “I know you are, Shawnie. That's why we're here. Trust me, I won't hurt you.”

  I swallow and nod, relaxing into his arms, and he pulls me tighter, his hand coming up to cup my breast through my bustier top. “Mmm . . . thought it was my choice tonight?”

  “It is,” Rafe murmurs in my ear, his breath warm, tickling, and electric. “So tell me, are you choosing to lie down on the bed naked for me?”

  I turn and kiss him, his lips electric, and I nod, going over to the side of the room and stripping. The whole time, Rafe watches me, shrugging off his jacket and shoes at the end when I crawl onto the bed and lie down, my legs and arms splayed, ready for restraint. Rafe shakes his head though, and I lift an eyebrow. “What then?”

  “Turn over and close your eyes,” Rafe says.

  I obey, biting my lip as I hear him walk almost silently over to the wall of toys. What's he doing? The crop? The cat o' nine tails? I've been whipped a lot, but it's been a while, and the skin on my back isn't ready for a hard whipping. Still, the demon waits eagerly, creeping out again to taunt me, to tell me that even this literally nearly perfect man knows I'm good for nothing more than humiliation and being—

  The crack of the plastic is so loud in the soundproof silence that I jump like I've just been hit with a whip, but Rafe's right there, chuckling. “Sorry. Cap got caught a little.”

  “What are you doing?” I ask, forcing my eyes to stay closed. “Please, Rafe, tell me.”

  “Helping you put an end to this,” Rafe says, and I feel him slide onto the bed. He puts a hand on my back, and his hand is slick, oily, and I realize what he opened.

  “Oil. That was massage oil.”

  “Only the best,” Rafe agrees, straddling my legs and putting his other hand on my back as the heavenly scent reaches my nostrils, luxury in a single sniff. His fingers start kneading, easing away my tension, and my demon screams in frustration. I should be getting abused, not massaged with fragrant oils! I’m a tramp, not a princess! “Let's talk, Shawnie. When I brought you in here, what did you expect?”

  “I didn’t expect this,” I say softly, my body relishing his touch. “The last time I was here at The Club, it got . . . nasty.”

  “I understand. Let's skip the nasty part. Shawnie, you know what's in my garage, a play room. You know what's in here. So tell me . . . does any of that actually excite you?” Rafe asks as he goes to work on the right side of my back, digging the heels of his hands into the muscles around my shoulder blade. “Do you want to be submissive?”

  “Mmmhmm,” I groan, lavishing in his attention, and between my legs, I can feel a warmth start to build as I feel something large and firm start to brush against the bottom curve of my ass. “I . . . I sometimes fantasized about it. Before . . . before Chris Lake.”

  “And why didn't you?” Rafe asks, shifting to my other side. His hands are strong, the oil letting them slide at just the right pressure that my skin's electric from his touch, warm and tingling as he kneads and works my body. He shifts, making me hum in disappointment as the feel of his hard-on leaves me, but then he takes my right foot between his fingers and starts the sensual, amazing massage again. I bring my left foot down, finding between his legs by touch, and I trace his cock through his pants with my foot. “You won't distract me, Shawnie.”

  “Why would I want to? I just want to feel you,” I answer happily. “As for your question . . . it never felt right. Or I should say, no man made me want to obey back then.”

  “And how do you feel now? If I said I wanted to bind you, would you let me?” Rafe asks, and a fresh wave of heat sweeps through me before centering between my legs. I let them part a little. I know Rafe can see my pussy, but I feel good about it.

  “Yes sir. I'd let you bind me.”

  “Why?” he asks, switching feet. “Because I make you want to?”

  I moan as he finds a spot on my left foot that feels like he's literally rubbing my pussy at the same time. “Yes sir . . . and because you don't make me feel bad about it.”

  “And I never will,” Rafe says, releasing my left foot to work on both of my calves at the same time. “I want there to be total trust between us.”

  His words touch something deep inside me, and I open my eyes, looking back at him as he works up to my hamstrings, his eyes intense and protective, tender. “Rafe?”

  “Yes, Shawnie?” he asks, not stopping his massage as it creeps slowly higher and higher toward my ass.

  “I hope this isn’t the only reason you brought me here.” I give him a seductive look, letting him know what I want. “Please, sir?” I ask, a deep thrill running up my spine. “If you want to . . .”

  “Let's start with a massage,” Rafe says, taking my ass in both hands and massaging. I hear the oil bottle open again, and I giggle, the giggle turning into a moan as the warm oil dribbles over my ass and down the crack to my aching pussy. “And what about your pussy?”

  “A vibrator maybe?” I ask, and Rafe gets off the bed, returning with a small one that he puts in my hand.

  I feel him grip my ass, squeezing it as he bends down to kiss the right cheek, then the left. It’s hot, tender, and exciting as he kisses, his tongue coming out and making a smooth stroke down my left cheek.

  Rafe adjusts himself, and I feel his fingers massage my ring, working some of the massage oil inside me as he prepares himself. The blunt tip of his cockhead presses against me, and I close my eyes as he slips inside.

  Feeling Rafe's thick cock slide inside my tender hole is mind blowing. Slow, careful strokes light up my body as Rafe works his cock all the way inside me. It feels so r
ight, my pussy drips down my inner thighs. Finally, I can feel his hips press against me, and I look back at him. I can't help but smile a little as I realize he never took off his pants. He's wearing his suit pants and tie still, with his huge cock buried deep inside me. “I don't think I've had this before. Armani sex?”

  “Custom tailored,” Rafe says in reply, sinking his cock deep into me and washing away all words from my brain. I lower my head, reaching out and grabbing the headboard of the bed and pushing back as he begins pumping his meaty cock in and out of my ass. It's raw, it's animalistic and sensual, and I realize that the real me does want to submit to him, to be taken like this by him because it makes me feel good.

  With each slow, tender stroke, Rafe's cock moves from my ass all the way to my brain, straight up my spine and sending me into a world that I've never felt before. I'm filled, full and taken by this man who might call himself a monster, but the only monster I feel is the demon inside me screaming that it’s being beaten into obscurity. “Mmm, take me, sir.”

  His cock speeds up and a little bit of pain adds to the pleasure, letting me know that this is a man unlike any man I've had before, taking me and making me his. I push back, swept away in the pleasure and pain that is ripping through my body. I'm so close to coming and I haven't even touched my pussy.

  “Shawnie!” Rafe groans, and I feel his cock swell, making my eyes roll back in my head it's so intense. He slams into me one more time and explodes, his cock deep in my ass, so hot and hard it's making me come. It's so overwhelming I have to literally bite the pillow in front of my face to keep from passing out.

  Rafe reaches out, taking my hand that's reaching back blindly and clasping it, holding me carefully as he pulls out and I turn over, my legs too Jell-O to even hold me up kneeling any longer. He looks at me with warm blue eyes, his face intense.

  “Are you okay?” he asks in a raspy voice, and I nod, smiling.

  “Better than I’ve been in a long time,” I sigh happily. I look down at his still glistening cock, and I smile, biting my lip. “How about you go wash that bad boy off and get ready for round two? We've got this room for how much longer?”

  “As long as I want,” Rafe says, climbing off the bed. He goes over to a small wash station and thoroughly washes his cock and balls, both for safety and to get rid of all the extra oil before he strips out of the rest of his tuxedo, coming back to the bed in his perfect, sculpted natural form. “How long do you want to stay here?”

  I reach up, stroking his face and pulling him down for a kiss. “Until I'm fully satisfied. I may have been here before, but this is a new experience for me. It could be a while.”

  “A challenge?” Rafe asks, grinning. “I like a challenge.”

  Chapter 17

  The Counselor

  You look like a very satisfied woman. And a confused one too.

  You have no idea.

  Want to tell me about it?

  Rafe took me to The Club Friday night, all the way to Saturday morning. And then he took me to his home for the rest of the weekend and I was . . . it was pure heaven.

  The Club? I didn't know he was a member.

  Neither did I. But there's a lot to Rafe Meyers that you wouldn't believe.

  Try me.

  No, I don't think so. He confided in me, and I don't want to violate the trust that he's placed in me.

  Fair enough. Why do you think he took you there and not just to his bed?

  I’ve thought about it. Rafe is calculating, and everything he does is for a reason. I’d like to think that he wanted to bring something good into a place that’s been slowly destroying me because of what I do there. Because of how I feel afterward.

  Okay, but you still look a little haunted. What's the problem?

  I don’t know if it’s going to be that easy. Sure, this weekend was probably the best of my life, but in the quiet moments, I’ve had doubts. Rafe couldn't exactly be by my side all weekend, and even his superhuman endurance has limits. We couldn't have sex the whole time.

  What were you thinking?

  Mostly the demon, this other person I’ve become after what happened to me. It’s trying to throw sand in the gears. It's telling me that I'm deluding myself if I really think that Rafe's different, that sex with him is different. It kept telling me that Rafe is just setting me up, that he's bringing me up higher so that he can just crush me all the harder later.

  That doesn’t sound too likely.

  I know. And the logical part of me wants to believe that, that he's being good to me, that we're . . . I don't know. Developing something . . . something real?

  Are you feeling that way?

  I'd like it. He’s one of a kind, and to think that he's still interested in me . . . it touches me in a way that I never thought I’d feel again.

  But you’re scared of giving in completely? Scared of what might happen if it doesn’t work out?

  Exactly. What if I'm starting to really like a guy, starting to feel clean, but it turns out badly? My life before you may have not approved of, but it was something. If I continue on this path and he lets me down . . .

  Whoa, it's okay. Here, have a tissue.

  What if it’s not meant to be? What if I’ll always be damaged, incapable of finding real love?

  I don't think you are. I’ve told you many times that I think you sell yourself short. But let's turn to something else before our time is up. How's the project work going?

  It's good, but not all fun times. You should have seen the argument we had in the lab Thursday. Oh, if anyone ever thinks that being in a clandestine sexual relationship with Rafe Meyers means that he's going to back off on pushing me, on challenging me . . . that man is the most stubborn, hard-headed pain in the ass sometimes! I mean, I took a whole week to work on the problem of those fuel pumps . . .

  Whoa. No details. National security, remember?

  Sorry, got carried away.

  Just remember that you’ve always taken pride in your work.

  Yeah, I guess so. Still . . .

  What?

  Engineering hasn't stopped me in the past, and as much as I'm trying . . . it's not airfoil designs and airplanes that I'm thinking of when I wake up at two in the morning and can't get back to sleep.

  I don't need to guess what you're thinking of.

  Exactly. Airplane design doesn't help at two in the morning.

  Chapter 18

  Rafe

  Nearly a week after we went to The Club, I'm worried more than ever. The possessive side, the Program side, is happy because for the whole weekend, Shawnie was mine. We had sex constantly, sometimes rough, sometimes gentle, but every room of my house short of my play room was 'broken in'. The play room will come, but not until she’s ready.

  Still, watching Shawnie during the weekend, when we were together, she was making so much progress, and then she'd fall back into a brooding expression and I knew what was going through her mind.

  Even more problematic to me is the work she's doing in the lab. For the past three days she's been lethargic and distracted instead of her normal self. I’m starting to think that my idea of taking her to The Club may have not been the best thing for her yet.

  Finally, the email I got from The Club that my membership has been suspended is the last straw, and tonight, I find myself driving toward San Francisco on a Thursday, even though three people are still in the lab. Between what Shawnie told me about the message Mr. Robinson sent, the way he was almost ready to hit her last Friday night, and then this email, there are things that I need to get straightened out between myself and Mr. Robinson.

  I don't use the valet to park, but instead park two blocks away at an office building and start walking, knowing that what I'm about to do is pretty fucking stupid. There's a reason the security men at The Club can flat out shoot someone and get away with it . . . but some things are more important.

  The doorman at least lets me in when I give him my member name, but he stops me in the foyer. “Mr. Mu
seveni, the computer says that your membership is under suspension.”

  “I'm here on business,” I explain, measuring the burly man with my eyes. If I have to take him down, I'm going to have to do it fast. I know that the security cameras are watching me already. “I'm here to talk to Mr. Robinson.”

  The doorman starts to refuse me, but a side door opens, not the one to the main club, and Mr. Robinson steps out. He’s dressed, as always, in his sharp-looking business suit, attempting to look like a suave man in charge. “It's okay, Rocco. He can come with me to my office.”

  The doorman nods, putting himself between me and the entrance to The Club itself, and Mr. Robinson turns, leading me down a narrow side hallway that I can tell rings the lower floor of The Club until we come to a stairwell. “My office is normally upstairs, a leftover of the old days when this was a shipping warehouse.”

  “Lead on,” I reply, following him up the stairs to his ornate office. It surprises me a little. I always pegged him for being more of the sparse, ultramodern office type, not a stained walnut desk and Tiffany lamps with Turkish rug type. “The Club must pay well.”

  “Of course it does,” he says, going over to a wet bar and opening a decanter of what looks like whiskey or scotch. “Glenlivet?”

  “Not tonight,” I reply, not sitting down as he pours himself a glass. “I came to talk about Shawnie Holliday.”

  “Great fuck, isn't she?” Robinson says with a grin, tossing back a finger of whiskey. “She’s good for this place.”

  I don’t know if he’s intentionally baiting me or not, but it’s damn near working. Instead of raising my voice, I put my hands on the back of the leather chair in front of me and squeeze, feeling the wood underneath groan from the force.

  “I want to know what led to the suspension of my membership and if it had anything to do with bringing her here,” I reply, trying to keep my temper. He's a smooth operator, used to being in control. I won’t let him this time.