Page 17 of Whips and Chains (Saint View Murder Squad #2)

It loosened, and relief rushed in that I could breathe properly again.

He pulled the last bit of ribbon free, and the corset fell away.

I didn’t dare move. I was facing the wall, so the cameras would only see my back, and I was entirely too scared to turn around.

But X didn’t push me. He just trailed his fingers down my naked back and over my side rolls and the curve of my hips.

A low growl came from deep within his chest that took me by surprise.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “What’s wrong?”

“That thing you were wearing…it left marks all over your body.”

“It was a bit tight.”

His thumbs traced over an indent the corset bones had left on the back of my hip. It wasn’t really sore, I hadn’t been wearing it long enough for it to do any real damage, but I could feel the marks he saw.

His voice was deep and possessive when he said, “You’re not putting that back on. Your clothing isn’t supposed to hurt you.”

“You’ve clearly never been a woman,” I said quietly. “I’d never have clothes on if I never wore things that hurt.”

Ninety percent of my clothes hurt. From underwire bras that jabbed beneath my arms, to boots that rubbed at my calves, and dresses that were too tight around my belly… Finding anything that fit properly when you were bigger than a size ten was nearly impossible.

Clothes were often just not made with bigger women in mind. We were always an afterthought, never the main target for fashion.

He dipped his head to kiss the back of my neck and then worked his way down my spine, his lips delivering soft kisses over every lump and bump and angry red mark until he was on his knees.

His hands found my ass cheeks, still clad in a pair of panties way skimpier than I normally wore. His fingers slid beneath the elastic, until he had two full handfuls. His thumbs stroked me there, kneading and massaging, inching closer and closer with every pass to the crease between my thighs.

My heart beat with anticipation.

He didn’t leave me waiting for long.

He dragged my panties down over my ample ass, then lower, over my cellulite-dimpled thighs until I was standing in nothing but the low heels I’d decided to try to wear tonight since the corset outfit hadn’t looked very good with a pair of sneakers or dowdy, though more functional, orthopedic work shoes.

X groaned. “Fuck, Violet. This is what you wear whenever we’re together. Not those fucking clothes that hurt you. You wear nothing but those heels. God, you’re beautiful.”

A smile played across my lips. “Actually, the heels hurt a bit too.”

His playful side came out. “Then give them to me.”

I laughed. “You gonna wear them?”

He grinned as he rose to his feet and then leaned in, whispering in my ear so only I would hear, “No, but I can always use an extra murder weapon. And the spike on those heels will look better in the jugular of the man who scared you tonight than it does in your closet.”

A shiver ran over me.

“You’re going to tell me his name and I’m going to take care of it.”

It was sick I found that hot.

And later, I would set him straight on what had really happened because I didn’t want my poor Uber driver, who had done nothing wrong other than getting me to my destination quicker, to pay the ultimate price for good service.

But I didn’t want to talk about that now.

Not when his hands were all over me.

He pressed his body against me again from behind, this time reaching around, his arm resting on my belly, his fingers skating over my mound and then lower, until he found the nub of my clit.

One touch brought it to life with a pulsing pleasure that had me gasping.

He rubbed it slowly, in circles that got smaller and faster with each pass.

I held on to the wall, bracing myself with my fingertips so I wasn’t smushed by his weight.

I got wetter and wetter with every stroke he made of my clit. He sucked the side of my neck while he worked me up, and I twisted my head so I could kiss him.

He tasted of salt and lime and tequila, and it was as delicious as the way he touched me.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the people watching us though. “Do you think there’s a lot of them?”

The idea was terrifying. I was judged just walking down the street in broad daylight.

How much harsher would those judgments be when I was completely naked and having sex in front of them?

I could barely stand the thought of it. Their whispers would be all I would hear.

I had to work here for the rest of the night.

After half the patrons had watched X rail me.

Doubts crashed in.

X wiped them all out with a single sentence. “I think every man up there watching has their cock in their hand, jerking off, and wishing they were me right now.”

It was the confidence in his voice that really sold it.

There wasn’t a hint of doubt.

And it left no room for mine.

So when he said, “Turn around, Violet. And let them see what they’re missing.” I did.

X backed up a few steps, unbuttoning his shirt.

He was no longer blocking my body from the cameras.

Every man watching would see exactly what I looked like.

Before I had a chance to panic, X caught my eye. “Fuck your fingers for them.”

My mouth dropped open. “I…”

He undid the button on his pants and dragged down his underwear, just enough to free his cock. He stroked it slowly, his fingers wrapped around himself.

He was something right out of one of my books. Sitting on a leather couch, leaning on one hand, shirt undone, perfect cock, thick and hard.

Because he was staring at me.

It was me getting that reaction out of him.

And all I was doing was existing.

How many times and in how many ways did he have to tell me I did it for him? Hadn’t he been telling me that since the day we’d met?

So it wasn’t for any other man that I put my fingers to my slit, even though I knew they were watching and the idea sent waves of heat through my entire body.

It was for him.

Because he deserved my full attention.

My pussy was hot and wet. My fingers slid through my arousal so easily it would have been embarrassing if I hadn’t been in the middle of a sex club, where getting off was the entire aim of the night.

X groaned, his fingers around his cock moving at the same pace mine plunged inside my body.

I brought my free hand up to my breast, squeezing it, finding the nipple with my fingers and tweaking it in just the way I liked. The way that sent pleasure shooting straight back down between my legs.

X’s cock leaked precum, and he spread it across his tip, coating himself in it.

It shined in the dim light of the room, and I ached for it to be inside me. I needed the thickness of him. Needed to stretch around him in a way I couldn’t achieve with my fingers alone.

“X,” I moaned.

“I know, baby. Get over here and ride me.”

I moved across the room, following his directions, turned on by them, and wanting to please him in any way I could.

Because everything about him pleased me. From his tattoos that snaked across his skin, to the scar through his eyebrow, to the singular focus I had from him every time we were together.

I was always the woman he saw. Even in a club full of beautiful women, all ready and raring to have sex with him, it was me he looked at.

I went to straddle him, but he grabbed my thighs. “Turn around so they can see you too.”

I had no idea what I was doing, but I followed his instructions. I faced the cameras, not looking at them directly, but hot enough now I would have done anything this man asked of me.

With me facing away from him, he adjusted me to stand with my legs either side of his and then guided me down onto his cock.

I sank onto him, and we both groaned at the angle and deep penetration of the position.

I used my legs to lift myself up his shaft, before lowering back down, and he swore from behind me.

“Jesus fuck, that feels good.”

It did for me too. I was still tender from the sex we’d had the night before, but I was so wet it didn’t even register that I might have wanted to take a little more time in between.

All I could think about was having him inside me, taking him deep, making him feel as good as I felt when his eyes and hands and lips were on me.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, one cupping a handful of my breast, the other finding his favorite spot, fingers splayed out around my throat.

He didn’t squeeze. The cameras kept him in check, but having his hand there, so damn possessive and needy, had me desperate for more.

We experimented with the angle, both of us moving slowly, until he was lying back on the bench and I was leaning forward, supporting my weight on his thighs while I rode him.

I found myself missing the light pressure of his hand on my throat, but then they were trailing down my spine and over the globes of my ass.

He stroked his finger in between, rubbing it over my tight rear opening.

The moan I let out was completely indecent, but there was no stopping it.

“If you keep making noises like that when I touch your ass, Violet, I swear to God I’m not going to be able to stop myself from fucking you there right now, right here.”

I bit down on my lip, knowing I wasn’t ready to take his cock there.

But the idea didn’t scare me.

Because I already knew he would never do anything to hurt me. He’d proven that time and time again, even if he didn’t believe it himself.

Just like he had the night before, when he’d fucked me doggy style, he played with my ass while I rode him. I reached between my legs to battle with my clit, an aching need there that couldn’t be satiated in any other way in this position.

It gave the camera a bird’s-eye view.

I instinctively knew Levi and Whip would be watching.

But when I came, it was the man beneath me whose name I shouted.