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  “Delightfully helpless. And as beautiful as a rare, bright butterfly.” His voice was deep, hoarse, as though he was painfully aroused. She knew she was, and when she felt his hands sliding up her calves, bending her knees to open her further to his gaze, she wanted to beg him to hurry, relieve the raging need he’d built up in her.

  “Having to wait will be your punishment, sweetheart,” he said as he nibbled his way up her inner thighs until he reached her pussy and blew on her tingling clit.

  Talia had imagined herself this way, helpless to Sid’s desires. The reality was so much more than she had dreamed about. She hung, suspended for her Master’s pleasure, the pressure from each knot feeding her arousal and reminding her of his power. His possession. Most of all, they reminded her of his dominance and the love he’d professed for her last night.

  When he stepped away for a minute, she realized how much she needed him in order to feel whole, desirable.

  Sid put on a condom and then fit a slender dildo into place in the ring of the double-penetration harness, above his own rigid cock. Not wanting to cause Talia undue pain, he rolled another lubricated condom onto the dildo before stepping behind his suspended slave and adjusting the ropes to position her. The little sigh she let out when he put his hands on her beautifully rounded ass sent a surge of blood to his already raging hard-on, but he held back, using fingers slippery with lube to tease her tight rear hole.

  “I want this pretty hole, too, sweetheart.” He slipped one finger past her anal sphincter and then another. “Have you ever taken two cocks at the same time?”

  “Not that way, Master.” When she spoke, he could tell she was on the edge. “Are you…”

  Did it bother her to think he’d share her with another Dom so soon? “Does the idea excite you?” He rubbed his cock over her damp, swollen pussy,

  “If it pleases you, Master.” She didn’t sound especially pleased, and her gasp of surprise when he positioned himself and pressed his cock and the dildo against her wet, waiting flesh made him laugh.

  “It’s just me, sweetheart. Me and a dildo. Didn’t you notice the harness has a ring to hold an extra cock?”

  She shook her head, and that made her suspended body move enough to fire up his arousal. Grasping her hips, he held her steady and slowly penetrated her. Double penetration. He felt her clamp down on his cock with her strong inner muscles as he began to move. In, deeper with every thrust. Out, until he nearly withdrew. Then back in again, over and over. Her deep moans mingled with his own, echoing off the walls of the cavernous dungeon room.

  He tried to hold back, even counting the patterns of his blue rope against the hot-pink material of her bodysuit. But he knew he wouldn’t last long, not with five pairs of eyes on them, feeding the exhibitionist in him…and not when his beautiful slave’s hot, wet cunt was clutching his cock as though she’d never let it go.

  “God yes, Master. Fuck me hard. Please…”

  He dug his fingers into her firm, luscious butt and fucked her hard. His cock had never been so hard, so ready. He forgot about the curious eyes. The ropes that suspended her for his pleasure. The only thing left on his mind was the friction on his dick, the tight urgency in his balls and the incredible sensation of her vaginal muscles squeezing…letting go. Milking him, demanding his climax.

  No. He mustn’t come, not yet. He reached around her, caught her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pulled them hard. “Come for me now, my hot little butterfly.”

  She let out a scream that morphed into a high, keening moan. Her cunt clamped down on his cock. Pressure built in his balls and the first burst of hot, wet semen flooded the condom.

  It didn’t stop. Over and over, waves of heat flooded his brain, left him shuddering, drained. Empty of everything but Talia and the force of their joining.

  When he finally could think again, he withdrew, lowered her to her feet and began unwrapping the rope from around her gorgeous body. Laying kisses over the places where he’d bound her, he came down slowly from the highest high he’d ever experienced. Her look of love and wonder when he removed the blindfold was the best gift she could have given him, other than her promise to marry him and be his submissive lover forever.

  Chapter Eight

  I believe Sid loves me.

  Talia had kept repeating that in her head the next day, every time Mary or Doug asked her a question that made her uncomfortable. And she’d smiled a lot. By the time Sid had come home from the run-through practice, she’d dredged up the courage to give them her thoughts about the wedding.

  Before they left the following day for the game, the four of them had agreed that the smartest thing to do was hold the wedding in Savannah before the start of next year’s regular season. Thankfully none of them wanted a three-ring circus—just a day for immediate family and friends from Sid’s team. By the time Talia settled in the stands with her future in-laws to watch the game, she was feeling better about herself than she had for years.

  She couldn’t help, though, remembering the last football game Vic had let her attend. It had been a sunny, brisk October day in Atlanta. Vic had kissed her goodbye in the parking lot, something she’d almost forgotten during the nightmare years that had followed. She’d watched him run onto the field with his teammates, the way she’d be watching Sid today.

  Oh, God. She pictured Vic in her head the way he’d looked halfway through that game, laid out on the field, broken and unconscious. And she recalled how that hit had seemed to change him.

  Not only had Vic not been the same player after his shattered upper arm had healed, he also hadn’t been the same man. And every time after that when he’d had another concussion, he’d become meaner and more erratic, until that day when he’d come home from a game in Phoenix and thrown her down the stairs and out of his life.

  Could something like that happen with Sid?

  Talia tried to stop shivering at the sudden chill that coursed through her body despite the noontime sunshine and the cozy team hoodie Sid had insisted she wear over his team jersey, against the January cold.

  “Are you cold, honey?” Sid’s dad asked. “Here, wrap up in this stadium blanket.”

  “I’m okay. I’m just being silly, worrying that Sid will get hurt.”

  Doug patted her hand. “He’ll be okay. His mom worries, too, but he’s been doing this since he was nine years old. I played football, too, in high school and college. The worst that happened to either of us was when Sid broke his wrist when he was sixteen. Relax and enjoy the game.”

  “I’ll try.” Talia shaded her eyes from the sun and looked out on the field where the players were warming up. She spied Sid’s number seventeen. He’d had to jump to haul down a football that had been thrown way over his head. “I can’t believe he caught that.”

  “Watch him throw. I’ll bet he puts the ball right on Yancey’s numbers,” Mary said. “Did you know he played quarterback in high school and his first year of college?”

  Talia nodded, but her eyes stayed glued on Sid, who did pass the ball back to Yancey, right on the money. “Why did he switch positions?”

  “He was too short to find his receivers over the linemen.” Doug shook his head. “Or so his college coach told him. I’ve always thought the guy figured Sid would do him more good, with his speed, as a receiver.”

  “Oh.” It was obvious that Sid’s parents adored him, and that they were proud of what he’d accomplished so far on the football field. Talia guessed that was understandable since Mary and Doug were both avid fans. She was, too, but she couldn’t help worrying that he’d get hurt—or that one of the inevitable injuries that players got might make him change from the wonderful, loving Master he was.

  Please, don’t let that happen. Talia kept repeating that prayer in her head all through the game, whenever Sid was on the field. She hardly noticed the score going back and forth, only that number seventeen caught a lot of passes and kept getting up whenever he got knocked down.

  During the
first two quarters, the score seesawed back and forth, with the Rebels on top. Susan Zanardi left at halftime with Coach’s father. According to Keisha, who was sitting in the row behind them, Susan was headed to the hospital but hoping her baby wouldn’t be born until the game was over and her husband could be with her for the birth. Talia hoped the baby would wait, too. Recalling that Sid had mentioned wanting a child someday, she decided she wouldn’t want to have that baby with him anywhere but at her side.

  When the teams came back on the field, the noise level grew in proportion to the quantity of beer being sold in huge paper cups to a restless crowd. Talia watched red-and-blue Rebels’ pennants flutter in an escalating wind that carried familiar smells of hot dogs and sausages from the grills scattered around the stadium. Her stomach growled but she was too nervous to eat.

  Neither team scored in the third quarter, but in the fourth, the other team suddenly came alive and the Rebels found themselves behind by six. Along with thousands of Rebels fans, Talia let out a loud groan when Yancey’s pass flew six feet over Jack Winters’ head and into the hands of an opponent.

  After that, silence hung in the air. Along with the fans surrounding her, Talia came to her feet and screamed with new hope when Jimmy Bronson hauled down a deflected pass and gave the Rebels back the ball just thirty yards from the opponents’ goal. Since there was less than a minute on the clock, a Rebels’ touchdown should mean victory.

  Talia clenched her fists when she saw Sid running an outside route into the end zone, two defenders hot on his tail. She followed the ball as it flew from Yancey’s hands, arced high. Oh no, it seemed to be hanging in the brisk wind, its forward motion stilled. Sid backpedaled but couldn’t get to it in time as the slower of the two defenders hauled it in.

  Sid tackled him hard and they both went down. Another defender piled on top of Sid. Talia closed her eyes and held her breath after seeing the three of them lying in a heap of tangled legs, stained jerseys and shoulder pads yanked out of place.

  “Relax, our boy’s okay. They’re all on their feet now.” When she followed Doug’s gaze to her white-knuckled fingers, she tried to let go of the tension that had claimed her.

  “Thank God.” The clock wound down and the Rebels lost, but all Talia cared about right then was that Sid was okay.

  * * * * *

  As Sid finished saying a few words to the reporters who’d gathered around his locker, he still was pissed that the Rebels hadn’t won. There would always be next year, though. They’d given it their best shot today, and who was to say Yancey’s last pass wouldn’t have been catchable if it hadn’t been for the gust of headwind that made it hang and fall ten yards short of where it was supposed to go?

  Now all Sid wanted was to forget football for a while and enjoy some down time with his brand-new fiancée. Hurrying outside, he spotted Talia with his parents and made his way through a crowd of autograph hounds, stopping to scribble his name on papers and jerseys people kept shoving in his path.

  “Sorry I took so long,” he said when he finally got to Talia and wrapped his arm around her, herding her through the crowd. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  “I am now that I know you’re okay.” When she smiled up at him he felt as if he hadn’t just been part of a heartbreaking loss. “Have you heard whether Susan has had her baby?”

  “Nope. Coach took off for the hospital right after the game was over. That was probably a good thing, especially for Yancey, since Coach certainly would have had more than a few choice words to say about that last underthrown pass.”

  Talia looked up at him, concern evident in her expression. “That was an awful throw, if he was trying to throw the ball to you. I nearly died when I saw you and those two guys piled up in a heap on the turf. You’re really all right, aren’t you?”

  “I’m okay. I’ve got a few ugly bruises and a nice impression of a cleat on the back of my thigh, but nothing serious enough to worry about. After Mom and Dad head off to catch their plane, what say we go over to Julie and Jimmy’s? They’re having a few players over for a game postmortem, and Jimmy has promised plenty of snacks and drinks.”

  “I’d like that.” Stretching up to kiss his cheek, Talia gave his arm a squeeze before getting into his car and holding his hand as he drove them home.

  * * * * *

  “I like Talia, son. But she’s terrified that you’ll get hurt,” Sid’s dad told him a little later as he and Mom were preparing to leave for the airport. “You might want to reassure her that most football players manage to survive to a ripe old age, especially if you intend to keep on playing awhile longer.”

  Sid fit his mom’s suitcase into the hatchback then turned to his dad. “Terrified? That bad? I know most women worry, but—”

  “But nothing. It’s a wonder her palms aren’t bloodied, because every time you went out on the field she clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white. I know fear when I see it.”

  Fear for him? Or was it something more? Could Talia be worried sick that he’d get his head bashed in and turn from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde, figuratively speaking, the way Reinhart apparently had? Damn it, what he wanted was to put the bastard out of his mind as well as Talia’s, but he was afraid that wouldn’t happen any time soon. When his dad gave him a strange look, he cleared his throat and made what he thought was a fairly benign response. “Thanks for warning me, Dad. I’ll have a talk with her.”

  “Doug, come on. We’ll miss our flight if you don’t get a move on,” Mary called from her spot in the passenger seat.

  Sid’s dad shook his head as he opened the car door. “The boss has spoken, so I’d better get going. Take care of that pretty little lady of yours, and let us know as soon as you set the date for your wedding. We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Sid hugged his dad and then walked around the car to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Thanks for coming, Mom.”

  * * * * *

  “I’m sorry you didn’t win the game, but I’m glad the season’s over,” Talia said late that night, after they got home from Jimmy and Julie’s place and headed straight for the bedroom. “I’m also glad Coach let us know Susan and the baby are— Oh my God,” she cried when he took off his shirt.

  Her eyes darkened, and she reached out to touch him but jerked her hand back as though she’d been scorched. “They aren’t pretty, but they’re just bruises, sweetheart.” Sid followed her horrified gaze to the ugly purplish masses around his rib cage. “They’re not the first ones I’ve ever had, and I don’t imagine they’ll be the last.” He toed off his shoes then dropped his jeans and boxers in one motion before sitting on the edge of the bed.

  He patted the spot beside him. “Come here.”

  When she did, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I want you to tell me what’s got you so scared.”

  “Have you ever had a concussion?” Her shoulders shook almost imperceptibly, as though she was trying hard not to show her fear.

  Hating to see her so worried, he tried to keep the conversation light. “Not since high school, when I came out on the short end of a collision with a nasty-tempered defensive end who outweighed me by about a hundred pounds. Are you worried that I’ll scramble my brain?”

  “Vic had lots of concussions. He used to brag about keeping the team doctors from finding out about them, so the coaches wouldn’t bench him.” She spoke so softly he barely heard her.

  Sid thought her suspicions as to why the bastard might have turned mean were spot-on, and he tried to show as little dislike as he could manage. “Reinhart is a lineman. Concussions are occupational hazards for them, and I imagine a good many of them are stupid enough to think it’s macho to stay in games even after their brains have gotten scrambled. Skill players other than quarterbacks, who get hit every way but Sunday when their pass protection’s not working, suffer more from broken bones and torn-up knees and shoulders than from head injuries.” Sid saw doubt in Talia’s eyes, so he tried to reassure her. �
�If I ever get hit on the helmet again, I’m sure I’ll have enough sense left to listen to the docs and take myself out of the game. I promise I won’t cheat on my baseline concussion tests, either.”

  “Tests?” She sounded confused.

  “For the past few years the league has required players to take tests that establish how their brains normally work. The tests are simple—they hand us a page full of shapes, have us look at it and then turn the paper over. We try to re-create the shapes from memory. Then they do the same thing with a page full of single words. Some players brag that they intentionally make mistakes on the tests, so they won’t look bad when they’re tested after taking a helmet shot. From what he told you, it sounds as if Reinhart may be one of those idiots who worries more about losing his job than maybe losing his life.”

  Talia nodded. “I imagine he is. I’m glad you’re smart.”

  “Me, too. I might accidentally get concussed again, but if it happens, you can be sure I won’t go back on the field until I’m completely recovered. I really want to enjoy a lot of years with you.”

  “Thank you. I want that, too.”

  He tilted her head back and met her sober gaze. “I love you, sweetheart, and I don’t want you to worry. I intend to take very good care of myself so I can keep on making love with you until both of us are old and gray.” Ignoring his sore ribs, he lay back on the bed and pulled Talia on top of him. “Now I want you to let me take care of you.”

  Her heart bursting with love, Talia bent and placed tiny kisses over Sid’s face as she smoothed his soft, unruly curls off his forehead. He tasted good, like a mixture of his woodsy shampoo and warm, clean male. Mindful of his bumps and bruises, she balanced on her hands and knees, trying to avoid adding to the pain she knew he must be feeling in spite of his denials.

  He tangled one hand in her hair while he used the other to stroke along her spine, his motion mesmerizing, drawing out all her thoughts and focusing her mind on him. Her Master. “I love you so very much,” she whispered against his lips before taking them and tasting him the way he tasted her. When their tongues tangled a shot of desire shot through her—and him, too, if she wasn’t mistaken.