Begging For It
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Format: Trade Paperback
On Sale: Sep 2, 2011
On Sale: May 13, 2011
A story in the 1-800-DOM-help series.
She needs punishment…before she deserves pleasure.
Tragedy scarred TJ Lipton. Now, the only way she can find pleasure is when its delivered with a heavy-handed dose of S&M. But finding a lover who can give her what she needs proves an elusive quest—until she finds the sex club Unfettered and a Dom named Cross McNally.
Cross understands all too well what drives TJ. He takes command of her body to give her everything she needs—restraint, the stinging kiss of a flogger, the thrill of a three-way—a sexual adventure that pulls her beyond her painful past and has her begging for more of his tender brand of domination.
Note for Readers: You must be of legal age in your country of origin to read this excerpt.
She awoke, gasping, inhaling smoke, and then began to choke. Which forced her to close her mouth and breath through her nose—a mistake because the smell of burned rubber, gasoline and something mustier and more frightening turned her stomach. She feared she’d vomit, but her seat belt gouged her waist as she hung upside down in the harness.
Something was in her eyes. She blinked but couldn’t clear the viscous fluid. Panic swelled, and then she heard a sound beside her, an odd rhythmic gurgling, and she remembered.
Blind, she reached for him, but her fingers sank into warm, sticky blood. She began to scream…
“TJ— Yo! Wake up!”
Tansy Jo Lipton jerked, banging her head against her monitor. Sitting back, she rubbed her head and glared at her partner Marnie Croft.
“You were asleep and moaning.” Marnie’s dark curls shivered around her face as she shook her head. “Did you call that VA shrink? Honey, you can’t keep this up much longer. You need to talk to someone.”
TJ frowned. She didn’t like discussing her problems with anyone. Her demons were ones she preferred to wrestle on her own. In her own way. “We talk.”
“But do you tell him anything he needs to hear? Does he know you’re still havin’ the dream?”
Giving a shrug, TJ’s glance slid away. Then she lied through her teeth to her best friend. “I don’t get it so much anymore.”
Marnie snorted and turned away, closing TJ’s office door without saying another word.
Not that TJ blamed her friend for her anger and frustration. Marnie had held the business together when TJ was called up. She’d hoped to have her burden lightened when TJ returned from Iraq.
The problem was TJ had never really come back. Not fully. She’d left part of herself behind in the sand and blood, and had returned a wizened shell of her former self.
The dream was a nightmare. One she couldn’t outrun. She’d slept so little the night before, she’d planned on only taking a catnap at her desk. However, if the puddle of drool on her desktop was any indication, she’d been out for a while. And the dream had found her again, leaving her cold.
She still shook with the horror of it.
TJ checked her watch. It was nearly time to call it quits for the day anyway. She turned off her computer, shuffled unfinished proposals into a neat stack and figured that was all she was going to accomplish for the day. Nothing mattered anyway.
Who cared whether they raked in another fifty-grand contract for renovating office space in downtown San Antonio? Was anyone going to die if they failed?
She closed her office door and slinked down the corridor, whipping quickly past Marnie’s door. Letting Marnie down did make her itch with guilt, but not enough to spark a fire for her to do her job.
She headed toward the underground parking lot, but music blared from the door of The Shamrock, just across the street. Would Brent be there again? Would he be up for a little sex? She was bored with him. He didn’t really hit her buttons, but he was a good-looking guy with a willing dick. What more could she ask for when she needed a quick fix?
Standing at the curb, she waited for the traffic to pass. A car slowed, a darkly tinted window rolled down. A man peered up from his steering wheel.
“Not even in your dreams,” she called out, and darted into the street behind his vehicle, strangely gratified by the sound of squealing brakes.
The bar was packed with happy-hour customers. She combed her hair with her fingers and made a beeline for the tables in the back.
Brent was parked in a booth and gave her a crooked smile as she approached.
“Wondered if you’d show.”
She slung her purse onto the seat opposite him then scooted in beside him, her hand going straight between his legs to cup his sex.
He jerked but eased his thighs open for her to give him a deeper caress. “I take it you’re back for more,” he murmured, and turned to nuzzle her ear.
She leaned away from the kiss he pressed against her skin. She wasn’t here to cuddle. “Let’s slip out back.”
“Now, why do I suddenly feel cheap?” he muttered.
“Because you know I only want your body.”
He grunted but let her tug his hand behind her as she slid from the seat and walked to the corridor at the back of the bar. She passed the restrooms, the bar owner’s office, and pushed open the rear exit.
There, in the middle of the alley, she reached under her skirt and pulled off her panties.
“It’s not even dark yet. Anyone could see,” he said, his voice tightening with annoyance. “And it stinks out here.”
TJ leaned into him, grabbing his hand and tucking it between her legs. No way could he miss the fact she was wet. Maybe he’d think she was hot for him. “Then go inside,” she said, raising her chin. “I’ll find someone else.”
His gaze narrowed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a bitch?”
She smirked. “You. Last night. Tell me you weren’t waiting with a hard-on just thinking about what we did. I’ll call you a liar to your face.”
He shook his head, his eyebrows drawing into a frown. “Girl, you’ve got issues.”
“Not anything I don’t already know. But right now, all I want is you inside me—and give it to me rough.”
She reached for his zipper, but he shoved her hands away and made quick work of his belt, his fly, and then shoved his pants off his hips, just far enough to free his cock, which sprang eagerly from the opening of his pants. He pulled a condom from his pocket and rolled it down his shaft. Then he reached for her. “Let’s make it quick,” he whispered urgently.
Fine by her. She put her back against the wall and let him lift her by the ass until she wrapped her legs around his waist.
When he started to push inside, she bent toward his ear. “Slap me.”
Already looking sex-dazed, he shook his head. “What?”
“Slap my ass. Pinch me.”
“All right,” he growled then juggled her a bit to free a hand and tap her butt.
“Not hard enough.”
He slapped her again.
She lifted her upper lip and snarled, “Harder, baby. I need it to sting.”
“Fuck.” His cock was poised at her opening, barely inside, but he cupped her butt and gave her a harder swat then followed with a biting pinch.
She kissed his cheek. “Now, bang me,” she whispered. “Right here against the wall. Leave the imprint in my skin.” She wrestled out of her blouse, letting the sleeves drop to her elbows. Not for him to admire her white, lace bra but because she wanted the bricks scraping her back.
He growled again and ground into her, thrusting inside and beginning to crash her against the wall. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” he said beside her ear. “Fucking out of your mind. We’re both gonna get arrested.”
“Just do it,” she said, giving his cheek a sharp tap. “Do it!”
He banged her pussy, jouncing her on his cock, driving her against the wall until the dirt and grit scraped her skin raw. This was how she liked it. What she needed. These days, she couldn’t get off unless it hurt.
Only then did she deserve it.
Except he was already coming, giving a muffled shout into her ear, his movements growing erratic. When he halted, he pinned her to the wall and leaned back. “We’re done,” he said, his voice ragged. “Baby, I can’t give you what you need.”
No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t grind away the pain. Couldn’t keep her mind so filled with sex that she didn’t for even one second forget the jumbled images in her head.
And he was right. The alley stank. Not like the smell of loosened bowels and blood, but bad enough that was all she could think about. “Let me down.”
He raised her, disengaging, then set her on her heels.
She closed her blouse, tugged down her skirt and kicked away the panties lying beside her feet. As she walked away, she wondered if she was losing her mind. He certainly thought she had.
And she didn’t blame him. Brent was basically a decent guy. It wasn’t his fault she had so much baggage she couldn’t let him fuck her the way he preferred. Last night, he’d pleaded with her to let him take her home.
Inside the bar, she headed back to the booth but found it occupied by a man—a big, burly guy with a thick neck and arms so big they could bench press a Cadillac. Her interest sparked immediately, but Brent was striding up behind her. “That’s my purse on the seat next to you.”
The man raised an eyebrow and gave them both a curious look, his gaze sliding over her disheveled appearance and likely coming to all the right conclusions.
TJ stared right back. There was something familiar about him. Something in the hard glint in his brown eyes. Or maybe it was just the short buzz cut that left his dark hair standing up in bristles on the top of his head. Like a Marine. That must have been it.
Without a word, he lifted her purse and handed it to her. She glanced behind her to say her farewell, but Brent was already striding out of the bar. Getting away from her as fast as he could, and she couldn’t blame him.
She was the freaky chick. The one a guy thought he wanted until she had him banging her cunt in a dirty alley.
God, she needed a bath.
She turned away, but her heel caught in the carpet and she fell forward. The guy in the booth shot out a hand to grasp her upper arm, saving her from landing on her face.
She’d have bruises. A big, black-and-blue bruise for every thick, hard finger that squeezed her arm. “Thanks,” she said, and she meant it.
Cross McNally watched the woman walk away, her back straight, but her chin tilted at an angle that betrayed her inner turmoil. He’d seen her cross the street and thought he’d recognized her, but she’d given him a sneer when he’d slowed down.
He’d parked in front of the bar and followed her inside. When he’d seen her drag the dude in the Brooks Brothers suit out the back, he’d hurried out the front and around the side to watch.
It was shadowed where they stood, but he hadn’t needed to see clearly to know what they were doing, or what it was doing to her. Her groans had been edged with desperation. The hard, crunching thrusts had to have rubbed her back and ass raw.
A familiar ache settled in his chest. The last time he’d felt it, he’d held her against his chest while she’d beat him with bloody fists.
Cross left the bar and walked back to his car. He opened the door and slid behind the wheel but paused for a long moment before kicking the ignition. It must have been fate that had him on this exact street at just the right moment to find her.
And it looked as if he’d have to rescue her all over again. He just hoped this time she wouldn’t hate him.