BDSM Romance Collection Read online

  Handcuffs.

  “Tie me up and make love to me. Rough. Hard.”

  Her gaze held a deep resolve. He knew if he refused, he’d never get another chance, and he’d be a fool to say no. This was her test and he would pass it.

  He approached the bed and sat, taking up the metal bracelets. “Take off your robe,” he said, and she readily obeyed, sliding out of it before she lay back on the mattress and placed her wrists against the railings.

  His pants grew tight as she splayed out and he placed himself between her creamy thighs. The scenario felt strange. He’d never really consciously dominated her, or anyone, before. He just went with the lust and let nature take its course. But this also felt right. And he wanted to please her. Needed to.

  He shed his clothes after he secured her wrists to the headboard, and did so slowly, watching her the whole time in silence.

  What the hell was she doing? That little voice in Fiona’s head screamed at her. She was playing a dangerous game—leading her ex on when she was with another man, who also had a jealous streak. This wasn’t smart. She couldn’t promise Nash that after tonight everything would be fixed between them, that she’d fall into his arms and forget about Eli. But desire took over and made her impulsive. Regrets were for later.

  He kissed her hungrily, nipping her bottom lip before his tongue explored her mouth. She returned his fervor.

  “Pinch my nipples,” she said breathlessly when the kiss broke.

  His big hands curled around her breasts, massaging the pale globes, working toward the pinkish brown peaks. Finally his fingers closed around the tips, grasping them and tugging. She gasped as the sharp sensation zipped straight to her groin, making her pussy tingle and grow wet.

  “Bite them,” She begged. “Suck them.”

  Once more he did as she asked, yanking on the now hardened points with his teeth. The fiery sting made her buck beneath him, made her sex wetter. She throbbed inside and out.

  His mouth closed around her aching nipples and he suckled, soothing away the hurt. One hand trailed lower down her body and parted her legs, but he didn’t touch that pulsing bead of flesh at first. Instead he teased her, swirling circles over the trimmed triangle of hair, tickling her thighs.

  “Please.” She let out a breathy moan. “Pinch my clit. Use your teeth on it. Please.”

  Nash didn’t hesitate. His lips skimmed down the valley between her ribs, over her flat belly. Once again he teased her, kissing, biting, and licking around her pubis mound, down her thighs. He blew on her slick labia but would not give her the release she craved. Fiona thrashed in her tethers and trembled with need.

  When his tongue flicked over her clit, she sighed loudly and arched her hips up, bringing her cunt closer to his mouth. He licked between her wet lips and poked his tongue inside her hole, making her whimper from want. Then his mouth closed over that swelling bead of flesh and he sucked it hard. Stars burst behind her closed eyelids and she grit her teeth as intense pleasure assaulted her.

  Fingers slid inside her soaking sex and pumped in and out, in and out, in time with his laps at her clit. She climbed higher, closer to ecstasy. He pulled back the hood of her clitoris and laved the throbbing bud with affection while he stroked her g-spot with curled fingers. Fiona went over the edge then, crying out and shuddering as she came hard.

  “I want you inside of me,” she whispered as he brought his head up from between her thighs.

  Nash needed no further encouragement. He placed her legs atop his broad shoulders, positioned himself between them, and sank his cock into her tight, wet pussy. He was heaven, and she lost herself in the bliss of his slow, sensuous thrusts.

  “Harder,” she moaned. “Faster.”

  His speed and power amped up and the sound of their flesh slapping together only fueled her carnal bliss.

  “Ow! Fuck,” Nash grunted and his cock remained inside of her when he stopped suddenly.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Are you okay?”

  His face was taut with pain, and he looked away from her compassion in embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s my damn back … Gives out at the worst times.”

  Her heart flooded with empathy. She knew the accident had messed him up badly. Thomas told her Nash had to have disks in his lower back fused and the doctors had predicted partial paralysis. But stubborn as he was, he’d proved them all wrong and worked hard at his physical therapy to regain most of his mobility.

  “Go slow,” she told him, wishing she could reach up and stroke the tension from his strained face.

  “You wanted it rough.” His voice was raw with shame.

  “I want you. That’s all that matters.”

  He smiled a small smile then, and gazed into her eyes as his cock moved inside her once more. Slowly but still pleasurably. He reached between them to rub her clit and bring her to orgasm once more. Moments later they both climaxed together.

  When he collapsed beside her on the bed, he kissed her cheek and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m not what I used to be. Shit, it takes me an hour to get out of bed most mornings.”

  Her heart fluttered again. Fiona swallowed. Suddenly the chains were too restricting. Nash was too close, and this whole situation, with its familiar tenderness, was too dangerous.

  She glanced at the clock. Only fifteen minutes until her next client. A perfect way out. “Unfasten the cuffs, please. I have to shower and get back to work.”

  The coldness in her voice hurt him. His frown showed the pain. “Sure.” He used the key on the nightstand and snicked each one open. “Could we talk later? After you’re finished here.”

  She shook her head and avoided his eyes as she slipped off the bed. “Eli wants me to come home with him tonight.”

  His big hand curling around her wrist stopped her before she could disappear inside the bathroom. “I still didn’t get my answers.”

  Her eyes locked with his and she frowned. “About what?”

  “About why you’re really here.”

  “And like I told you before,” she snapped through clenched teeth. “Things like that stopped being your concern when we signed the divorce papers.”

  She pulled away from him and strode into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her.

  Nash stalked out of the apartment and mimicked her actions. He cast a glare over his shoulder as he walked away from the apartment. It had been a long time since he’d paid a visit to Strength Inc.’s gym, but tomorrow he would go there. Pride and a heavy heart over being denied participation in a sport he loved had kept him away, but truth seeking would take him back.

  ***

  Peter Murphy had been Nash’s biggest rival during his career in the mixed martial arts industry. The Irish brawler once fought bare knuckle matches in Belfast, then went to Brazil in the 90s where he participated in vale tudo matches until he joined the Ultimate Mixed Martial Arts Association in North America. Nash had won the heavyweight championship from the massive, bulldog faced man a year before the accident. Nash took home the belt due to a controversial decision. The fight was so close, Murphy demanded a re-match, which Nash was willing to give him. However they couldn’t schedule a new bout until a year after Nash took home the championship, and a week before the fight Nash had the accident that ended his career. He’d retired and the belt went back up for grabs. Murphy was now the current title holder.

  Peter “ the Piledriver” Murphy was jumping rope at the other end of the gym. Nash walked fast in that direction, his focus riveted to the man with a dark crew cut and built like a brick shithouse.

  “We need to talk,” he told Murphy, then sat on a bench positioned next to the workout mats.

  Murphy barely sneered in his direction and made no reply.

  Nash stared at him and stayed on the bench. He’d wait all day if he had to. He could be just as stubborn as Murphy.

  Finally the Irish brawler put the rope down and took his time grabbing his towel from where it was slung over a weight bench
. He sauntered toward Nash as if he had all the time in the world.

  “Thought you retired, old man,” Murphy growled the barb, but Nash barely flinched. “If you’re looking for a rematch, you’ll have to get in line. I got hungry young contenders lining up to have a go at me.”

  “I don’t care about your full dance card,” Nash snarled back. “I’m here about Fiona. Wasn’t she repping you?”

  Murphy’s lips spread in a smarmy smirk. “She’s not your wife anymore, Falcon. I don’t owe you any answers.”

  Nash’s temper broke. He grabbed Murphy and pulled him from the opposite bench, slammed him into the wall, and pinned him there with one hand. “You will give me answers. I’m not leaving until you do. I’ve got nothing to lose, Murphy. Remember that.”

  Henry Linn and Frankie Antignani came running over and pulled Nash off the big Irish man. “Whoa, ease up, Falcon,” Frankie said. “First visit back to the gym and you’re damaging the prize fighter? I’d say it’s good to see you, but under the circumstances…”

  “Give me ten minutes with him,” Nash snapped. “I’ll keep my hands off. Murphy and I have some things to discuss.”

  Frankie and Henry looked from Nash to Murphy. Murphy gave them a nod, indicating it was okay, and they slowly trailed away from the pair of giants.

  “I found Fiona working at a place my brother owns,” Nash continued when the other two men were out of earshot. “I want to know why a top Strength Inc. promoter isn’t where she should be.”

  The smarmy smirk returned to Murphy’s face. “Fiona made some terrible mistakes.” He wiped sweat from his brow before he continued. “She got greedy. Forced me and her other clients to take steroids. It was my duty to inform Daniel. He had to let her go, and she’s been black balled by all other fighter rep firms.”

  Daniel Milligan was the owner of Strength Inc., a fighter representation firm that had employed Fiona. She’d represented Nash when he’d been fighting, and he had heard she’d started repping Murphy and some other fighters just after they divorced. But he knew Fiona would never pressure her clients into taking steroids to gain an unfair advantage. The risks to her clients and her career were just too great. Fiona was too smart for that.

  “You sonofabitch,” he said through gritted teeth as he glowered at Murphy. “You set her up, didn’t you? Something happened, and you made Fiona take the fall.”

  Peter shrugged. “You’d have to prove that, Falcon.”

  Then he got up from the bench and walked away while Frankie and Henry still cast a wary glance in Nash’s direction.

  Nash would indeed prove it. He knew things weren’t adding up. Now his suspicions were confirmed. He’d go back to his brother and Fiona armed with this information from Murphy and demand to know more.

  ***

  “Come stay with me tonight,” Eli said as he wrapped his arms around Fiona. “It’s been a while since you slept at my place.”

  She let herself relax against his broad chest as she closed her eyes. It was 2 am, and the club was winding down. She had no more clients scheduled tonight, the place would be closed in two hours, and Eli was free now too. She considered his offer as she let her thoughts drift in this peaceful silence.

  “Okay.” She turned in his embrace and smiled up at him, caressed his stubbled cheek. “I don’t really want to be alone tonight. I miss waking up in your arms.”

  He grinned back and she went to grab her coat while he waited. It had been an exhausting week, what with the showdowns with Nash and the turmoil his presence stirred in her. Not to mention the client whose wife held her at gunpoint. She just wanted to slip beneath Eli’s silk sheets, cuddle up close against him, and sleep off all the stress. Although making love would certainly be on the agenda too, she had no doubt. This would also be great therapy for her troubled mind. She wanted to reinforce her growing bond with him, wanted to reassure Eli that Nash posed no threat to their budding relationship.

  He held the door open for her while she slid into the passenger seat of his Chrysler 300. Eli was a gentleman with a gruff side. He knew how to be tender just when she needed it, and she appreciated this.

  The ride was short, and she drifted once more as they made their way to Eli’s apartment. He broke her musings when he pulled into his spot in the parkade next to the building and stopped the vehicle.

  “Why don’t you move in with me? At least until we settle things with Peter.”

  Her throat knotted up and words wouldn’t form. Why should the prospect scare her so much? Eli was a great guy, gorgeous, and he’d been there for her throughout this fiasco with Peter Murphy. He stared at her, frowning in concern when she remained silent as they walked toward the entrance to the apartment.

  Fiona stopped him at the base of the stairs. “Eli, I’m just not ready. I care so much for you—”

  “But you don’t love me.” His voice was ragged with hurt.

  She stood on tiptoe and brushed a quick kiss across his full lips. “I’m falling, but I don’t want to confuse rebound feelings with true ones.” She brushed a strand of hair from his aquamarine eyes. “Please understand?”

  He nodded, but still looked disappointed. “I love you, Fiona. I mean that. I’ll wait, and I’m here for you, no matter what.”

  She hugged him tight before they walked up the stairs. “Thank you. I’m grateful.”

  Inside, she shed her coat and he poured her a sherry while she settled on the plush, oatmeal colored couch. He was just sitting beside her and handing her a drink when the doorbell rang.

  Fiona’s stomach tightened up when a commotion filtered from the hall into the living room. She recognized the voice of the person arguing with Eli, who had gone to answer the door after she and he exchanged a curious glance.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Nash?” The two men put some distance between them when she entered the hallway. She stood at the end, arms crossed just beneath her breasts, and scowled at her ex. He was getting in the way all too often lately.

  “We need to talk.” He pointed a finger at her. “You lied to me.”

  Eli pushed the big man back. “She doesn’t owe you anything. You signed divorce papers, remember?”

  Nash shove him in return. “I still have a right to give a shit about her.”

  “Whoa, guys.” Fiona moved closer, ready to get between them to prevent violence once again if she had to. “Let him in, Eli.” Then she turned to Nash. “You’ve got ten minutes to say what you need to, then I want you out of here. Got it?”

  He frowned, but nodded before stalking into the living room.

  “Did you follow us here?” Eli demanded from behind Fiona.

  “Yeah, I did,” Nash snarled as he sat on the couch.

  “Great, now you’re stalking me.” Fiona sighed and sat in a recliner opposite him.

  “It’s not stalking,” he snapped. “It’s concern. Why didn’t you tell me Peter Murphy framed you?”

  She swallowed hard, exchanged a look with Eli, who stood protectively by her chair. “How do you know about that?”

  “Cause I paid a visit to the Strength Inc. gym.” Nash leaned forward and pinned her with his stare. “Had a little chat with Murphy.” Then he glanced at Eli. “Did you know about this? Murphy framing her with a steroid rap?”

  Eli nodded. “Yeah, both Thomas and I know. We’ve been helping Fiona to bring the asshole down.”

  Nash gave a disgusted scoff and shook his head. “So even you knew before me.” He hung his head and his hair fell in a black curtain around his face. “This is bullshit. Fiona, I want in on this. You have to let me help.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Nash.” She looked away when he pinned her with a glare filled with hurt.

  “I want the whole story. How did Murphy set you up?”

  Eli moved away from the chair and took a threatening stance. “She said you don’t owe her anything, and Fiona doesn’t owe you a damn thing either.”

  Nash glowered at the big man and rose up from h
is seat. “This is between me and my ex.”

  Before they could get nose to nose, Fiona stopped them. “No, it’s not, Nash. Look, I’ll tell you more, but not tonight. I’m exhausted. So is Eli. We’ll talk at work tomorrow.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Nash said, then with a glare cast in Eli’s direction, he stomped out of the room and slammed the front door behind him as he left.

  ***

  The next day at the club, Nash caught up with Thomas just before he opened.

  “Hey, you’re here early,” Thomas said. “I thought you weren’t a morning person.”

  Nash ignored the jibe and sat in the chair opposite his brother’s desk. “I know what you’re hiding for Fiona. I also know you’re helping her.”

  Thomas ran a hand down his face then sat. “Fiona told you everything?”

  “Not everything. That’s why I’m here. I know Murphy framed her. Convinced the Strength Inc. board that Fiona was talking her fighters into doing steroids. I also know you’re helping her nail the bastard. I want in. So fill in the gaps for me, brother.”

  Thomas stared at him in silence a while before he spilled the information. “Murphy wanted Fiona to rig a match for him. A title bout between him and the Beast. He knew Fiona was tight with some of the judges, so he wanted to pay them off to bend the rules. Fiona told him no and he didn’t like it. He planted steroids on her, himself, and some of the other fighters she reps. Blamed it all on Fiona and Strength Inc. fired her, plus they blackballed her with other MMA agencies.”

  David “the Beast” Harker had lost the heavyweight championship to Jacques St. Pierre in a controversial and memorable match, where he also announced he and Jacques were lovers, and sleeping with their rep, Bella Rosen. Nash wouldn’t forget that match anytime soon, nor would any MMA personnel who witnessed it. He knew the Beast had been hungry to get that belt back, and he also knew the man was a tough competitor. But Murphy was tough as nails himself, had taken the belt from St. Pierre in a brutal match, so why wouldn’t he want to win the fight on his own merit? Why did he need to stack the odds in his favor?

  “I don’t get it,” Nash said. “Murphy’s got the skills to win the championship on his own. Why rig the event?”