Author: Olivia Cunning

Jace turned off the Harley’s ignition, shifted the bike backward to engage the kickstand, and climbed off. Leaning against the side of the seat with his helmet on, he waited outside the back exit for his beautiful demon in black leather to emerge. He hoped he hadn’t missed her. He needed her. In a bad way. He’d wait all night if he had to. It wasn’t as if he had anywhere else to be.

Over the next half hour, several people, mostly other dancers, exited the club through the back door. Jace earned a few curious glances, but no one questioned his motives.

When she finally emerged, his breath caught. She wore a long, black fur coat over her leather bustier, black satin panties, and thigh-high boots. Jace suppressed a shudder of primal longing. She paused at the bottom of the steps and reached into her pocket, searching for something. A cigarette, perhaps?

Jace patted his pockets looking for a lighter, but she pulled out a pack of gum and popped a piece in her mouth. She turned her head in his direction.

Noticed him.

His cock stirred with excitement. Anticipation. Every inch of his skin tingled with longing.

Her full, red lips curled into a sexy smile.

Did she recognize him? He didn’t know how. He still wore his helmet with its black face shield down. Maybe she smiled like that at every guy. He wasn’t sure why that thought bothered him. He just wanted to buy her services for a few hours, not make her a permanent fixture in his life. But as fixtures went, she was in a class all her own. Dear God, the woman was positively luscious.

She walked toward him, moving gracefully, like a prowling cat. The closer she got, the harder his heart thudded and the faster it raced. Jace stood straight, stepping away from the bike.

She stopped directly in front of him. He could feel her body heat through his clothes. It caressed his skin. Heightened his awareness of her.

He leaned toward her. Wanting to touch her. Taste her. Experience everything she was.

But mostly, he wanted her to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.

“I thought you might show up,” she murmured. “I still owe you a dance.”

In her three-inch, thigh-high boots, she stood a couple inches taller than him. Without them, he probably had an inch on her. Her height didn’t bother him. Looking up at her excited him. Her long white neck excited him. The sharp angle of her jaw. Smooth cheek. Full eyelashes. Thick, black bangs. The musky scent of her perfume mingled with leather and spearmint gum. The soft, husky sound of her voice. Everything about her excited him. He needed her. Now. It took every shred of his willpower not to drag her body against his.

“How did you know it was me?” he asked.

She lifted the visor of his helmet and stared into his eyes. Her cerulean blue irises stood in shocking contrast to her jet-black hair and porcelain-white skin. “Besides the fact that you’re still wearing the same clothes?”

Oh.

“It’s the way you carry yourself, angel. The tension in your body. It pulsates off you. How long has it been since you’ve had release?”

He knew what she meant. She didn’t mean sexual release. He could have that any time he wanted. She meant how long since he’d gotten what he needed. The release she could give him. “Almost a year.”

She pursed her lips with sympathy. “Poor baby. I’ll fix it.” She touched his cheek. “Make it all better.”

Ripples of delight snaked along his jaw, down his neck and belly. Grabbed him by the balls. He shuddered. Reached for her. Needing it. Her.

She slapped his hand away. “No.”

He clenched his hand into a fist and lowered it to his side. He knew she was a domme and used to men taking her orders, so he allowed her to retain her power. For now. “Let’s go.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now. Right now.”

She laughed. The rich, husky sound made his spine tingle.

“I’ve got to go back to work, sugar.”

His breath came out in a frustrated huff. “Then when? When?”

“Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock.”

Jace’s stomach tightened. He shook his head. “I can’t wait that long.”

Her hand cupped his crotch. His breath caught. She squeezed his balls. Not too hard. Just enough to gift him with delicious agony. It hurt so good, he bit his lip to stop himself from crying out in ecstasy.

“You will wait,” she said evenly. “Say it.”

He resisted.

She squeezed harder. “Say it.”

He drew the horrible, sweet pain inside, craving more of the same.

She removed her hand, and he winced. His stomach roiled, but he wanted more pain. Lots more. And he knew she wouldn’t give it to him, ever, unless he obeyed her. “I will wait.”

She smiled and slid something into his hand. A business card. “This is the address. Be on time, or I won’t answer the bell.”

He glanced down at her plain black business card. There was just enough light in the alley to make out the blood red text.

Mistress V

Specializing in corporal punishment

Corporal punishment? Lord, he almost came down his leg, just seeing it in print.

Jace took a steadying breath to clear his thoughts. He had other responsibilities to consider. Sinners had an important performance the next night. Would the concert be over by ten? Though they usually headlined, Sinners was opening tomorrow, so their set started earlier than usual. They should be done by nine thirty, so he’d have to hurry. “I’ll be there,” he said.

“I look forward to making you beg for mercy,” she murmured.

“Then you’ll be disappointed.” He slid her card into his pocket and climbed onto his bike. He turned the key, and the engine roared to life beneath him. “Until tomorrow.”

Chapter 3

Jace moved his ice pack from his left hand to this right. The swelling was starting to go down, but he knew he wouldn’t play for shit tonight. They were opening for Exodus End, in front of a sold out crowd. In fucking Las Vegas, Nevada. This should be a huge boost to their music careers, and they were all but guaranteed to suck. Sinners was moving up in the business, but Exodus End was at the top of the genre with no signs of slowing down. Could Sinners have picked a worse concert to be off their game? Not likely.

Rock star hair wet from a recent shower, Eric sank onto the sofa beside Jace. “How’s the hand?”

Jace shrugged. “I’ll live.”

“Yeah, but more importantly, can you play?”

Jace looked up at Eric, who had three thin strips of tape on his temple holding his wound closed. “Should be able to. How’s Trey?”

“He’s taking a nap.”

Jace drew his brows together. “A nap?” That didn’t sound like Trey. Shouldn’t he be out finding some girl to fuck for a couple hours? Or some guy? Trey didn’t care either way. “Maybe we should take him to the doctor.”

“I think he’s kind of down about Brian getting married this afternoon. He won’t say anything, of course, but Brian isn’t going to have as much time for his best friend now that Wifey Sinclair is in the picture.”

Jace guessed that made sense. Trey and Brian had been best friends for almost twenty years. They were even roommates. Trey was bound to feel left out now that Brian was married. “Yeah.”

With no warning, Eric slapped Jace on the back of the head. “Why didn’t you ever mention that you fight like a UFC champion?”

Jace glanced up at him. “You never asked.”

“Where did you learn to kick ass?”

The cabin of the tour bus seemed to close in on Jace. He did not like to think about his past, much less talk about it. He stared at the ice pack on his hand and shrugged. “I dunno. How about you? You were kickin’ some ass.”

Jace hoped to change the focus from himself to Eric. It usually worked to dissuade prying. Especially with Eric, attention whore extraordinaire.

“I had no choice but to learn to fight. I was shuffled from foster home to foster home for fifteen years. I didn’t get the benefit of being matched with a sponsor who wanted to help kids or make a healthy family. They were all just looking for an easy paycheck. Half of them didn’t even feed me.” He shrugged, his blue eyes brightening as he effortlessly abandoned thoughts of his past. Jace wished he was capable of doing that. “Knocking heads together is fun though, right?”

Fun? No, not really. Validating? Yeah, totally. “I guess. What started that fight anyway?”

“You didn’t see that bouncer put Sed in a choke hold? He didn’t even release him when I told him he was a professional singer. I had to deck him one.”

Jace would have probably decked him one too. Sed’s voice was one of those things that made Sinners so unique. Jace smiled slightly. “I’m glad we kicked their asses then.”

“We should go rehearse.” Eric launched to his feet. “Our set is about half the length it usually is. I just know I’ll end up kicking off with the intro to ‘Twisted’ when I should be playing ‘Good-bye Is Not Forever.’”

Jace chuckled. “I have the feeling we’re gonna suck tonight anyway.” He climbed from the comfortable leather sofa and tossed his melting ice pack in the tour bus’s small freezer.

“No one will notice. The fans will be too excited to see Exodus End to give a rat’s ass what we do.”

“I think they’ll notice that we suck.”

Eric chuckled. “Don’t worry. No one ever listens to the bass guitarist. Suck as much as you want.”

Jace bit his lip to prevent himself from telling Eric off. The tension was really starting to get to him, and he needed an outlet. How many hours until he could visit Mistress V? He glanced at the clock on the stereo. Shit. Four hours too many.

After rehearsal and a quick bite of leftover wedding cake, Jace stood backstage off by himself, trying to psyche himself up enough to play live in front of twelve thousand people. The swelling in his hands had gone down, but his fingers lacked their usual flexibility. He feared that they’d let Exodus End down and do a piss-poor job as their opening band tonight. It made him sick to think that he might disappoint them. He owed that band a world of gratitude. Especially their lead guitarist, Dare.

Something poked him in the left shoulder, and he turned to find Eric grinning at him, while using his drumstick as a prod. “You gonna hide out by the drum kit again tonight?”

Jace shrugged. He didn’t like the performance part of playing live. He just wanted to play his bass guitar with all the skill he could muster and leave the crowd entertainment to Sed, Brian, and Trey. The three of them were naturals when it came to interacting with the audience. Jace wasn’t. He felt like an ass whenever he forced himself from the security of the back half of the stage.

“There’s a problem with that idea tonight, little man.”

“What problem?”

“We’re opening, which means we’re working with half a stage. There’s no room for you near the back. My drums take up too much room. It’s front and center for you tonight.”

Jace’s stomach plummeted into his boots. “Shit.”

Eric laughed at his misery. “This should be entertaining. Though I do remember a show when Brian was distracted with Myrna, and you took up his slack. You can be entertaining when you want to be.”

Problem was he never wanted to be. He was there for the music. No other reason. He didn’t require the ego trip of fan adulation. A loud crash startled Jace out of his reverie. Travis, one of their long time roadies, extended a hand into a pile of empty guitar cases and pulled Trey to his feet.

“You okay?” Travis asked.

Trey stumbled sideways as he regained his footing and held onto Travis’s arm for a long moment. Still unnaturally pale, Trey nodded slowly. “Yeah, just lost my balance.”

Jace moved to stand next to their unsteady rhythm guitarist. “I think you should go get checked out. Head injuries aren’t something to mess around with.”