The Brink by Shayla Black

The minute Liam pulled into the car park at Beck’s condo complex, he turned to Gwyneth. Finally, he could take control of the situation. She was no longer blindsiding him or tearing into his best friend. He didn’t have to shield Raine from his ex-wife here. No more reacting or putting out fires. She’d be on his turf, following his agenda, playing by his rules.

Let’s see what you’re all about, shall we?

The doorman beeped them up, and as they entered the condo, sunlight streamed through the wall of windows lining the entire back of the place with incredible views of blue ocean as far as the eye could see.

“Liam, this is lovely. A bit cozy…” She glanced around the small space as she wheeled her suitcase in, gliding her fingertips across the back of the leather sofa. She rounded the bar toward the kitchen, fingering the door to the balcony and looked out with delight. “But Kyle and I will be happy here temporarily until the three of us find something together.”

Carting in bags of groceries, he turned to glare at her. He was tired and bloody hungry and he didn’t have much patience for the manipulative wench being deliberately thick. But he intended to set her straight—once and for all.

Liam set the necessities on the kitchen counter, along with Kyle in his new carrier. He put away the food and staples, watching Gwyneth sigh like the cat that ate the canary. No doubt, she had something planned.

Finally, she rolled her suitcase with the playpen folded on top into the only bedroom. Grabbing an apple and a few crackers, Liam snacked, happy to not be in the same room with his ex-wife, even if it was only for two minutes.

He’d barely finished the last bite when she called for him. “Oh, Liam…”

“What?” he bit out.

“Can you set up Kyle’s playpen in the bedroom with us?”

The apple that had tasted so good on the way down suddenly turned sour. “I’ll set it up, Gwyneth. But I’ve told you I’m not staying here.”

She just sent him a smile that said she found his delusion adorable. “Thank you.”

As he bent to set up Kyle’s temporary bed, the babe began to fuss. A whimper at first, then a loud little pant or two. A sniffle, a huff, then the boy began to wail.

Liam sent Gwyneth an expectant expression. She sidled closer to him, ignoring the baby’s cries and drawing a fingernail down his shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d see to Kyle. My head is hurting.”

“I’ll rub your neck the way I used to,” she offered, brushing her body against him.

He tried not to shudder. “No. Find out what ails the boy.” When she still hesitated, he rose and pinned her with a glower. “Now, Gwyneth.”

She didn’t look at all contrite or compliant, reminding him that his ex-wife didn’t have a submissive bone in her body. Instead, she huffed out a breath as she exited the bedroom and called over her shoulder, “We must talk about us soon, darling.”

He’d told her repeatedly that he wasn’t her darling or remotely interested, but playing blonde was all part of her game, no doubt.

As Kyle continued to fuss, Liam glanced around the corner of the bedroom, into the kitchen. Gwyneth had taken to rocking the boy in his car seat and trying to shush him. Besides lacking submissive bones, she also seemed to lack maternal ones.

“Is the boy hungry?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Aren’t you his mother?”

She sent him an annoyed sigh. “Are you finished with the playpen yet? Perhaps he wants to nap again. Or maybe it’s all this drooling. So messy.”

“Is he teething?”

“It seems so.”

But you don’t know?Liam scowled. Definitely time to dig deeper and find out what game Gwyneth played.

With the playpen complete, Liam lined the bottom with a blanket from the bed, then left to find Gwyneth on the couch. Kyle still sat fretting in his car seat at her feet while she filed a fingernail. The tyke gnawed on his fingers, slurping and grunting, seemingly starved. Gwyneth seemed more concerned by her cuticles.

“I’ve set Kyle’s playpen up in the bedroom.”

“Good.” Gwyneth glanced up, a little smile curling her lips. “Come, sit next to me. We have our whole future to discuss.”

When she patted the couch beside her, he scowled. “As soon as I take Kyle’s DNA sample, we’ll talk.”

“Now?” Gwyneth blanched. “Surely we need a doctor for that.”

“No.” Liam patted his pocket. “I’ve got the test kit right here.”

She opened her mouth to argue again, but Kyle interrupted with a lusty howl that demanded their attention.

“I think the lad is hungry,” Liam pointed out.

With a perturbed sigh, Gwyneth rose. “He always is.”

She walked right past the boy and into the kitchen. Sifting through the cupboards, she found what she sought and pulled out a new baby bottle and a can of formula. Kyle’s protests went up another decibel.

She turned to Liam with a beseeching expression. “Can you rock him or something while I make his bottle? I’m beginning to wonder if he’s coming down with a fever. He’s so fussy. This absurd test can wait a few days until our child recovers.”

Liam wanted to ask why she kept objecting to the test, but he had a suspicion. He refused to be played again. Time to turn the table.

“A fever?” Liam frowned. “Why didn’t you say so? We can wait a day or two. Finish fixing the lad his bottle. I’ll change his nappy on the sofa.”

Surprise, then relief, darted across her face before one corner of her lip curled up. She couldn’t quite repress her triumph. “Perfect, darling.”

Gwyneth turned back to the stove, heating the bottle. Liam freed Kyle from the car seat and laid him across the couch. As he changed the baby, one little chubby fist snagged his finger, gripping with surprising strength. Liam smiled. Are you mine, little man? No time like the present to find out…

Glancing up to make sure Gwyneth was out of sight, Liam withdrew the kit from the pocket of his jacket. Tearing open the cellophane wrap, he withdrew the swab stick and slid his little finger across Kyle’s face. As the boy opened his mouth, Liam ran the cotton tip gently against the inside of the baby’s cheek. He only whined a bit.

Popping the sample into a slender plastic receptacle, Liam shoved the test kit back in his pocket. Mission accomplished in less than sixty seconds—with Gwyneth none the wiser.

Satisfied, Liam carried Kyle with him to the window, patting his back and murmuring softly to the cranky boy to calm him.

Gwyneth returned with the bottle. The second Kyle spied it, he began kicking and wailing impatiently.

“There.” She handed Liam the bottle. “Would you mind feeding him? I need to take care of a few things.”

He took the warm bottle and tilted Kyle back in his arm. “Fine.”

She brushed her fingers through Liam’s hair. “You’re such a love, darling. Kyle didn’t get much rest, so if you wouldn’t mind putting him down in his playpen after—”

“Go on.” The sooner she left the room, the better. “We’ll manage.”

She disappeared through the kitchen and into the hall as Liam paced back to the couch and sat with Kyle. He watched, fascinated, as the babe grabbed at his bottle, searching for the teat, and put it in his mouth himself.

“Whoa, tiger.” He laughed. “Give me a second and I’ll help.”

Kyle had other ideas as he latched on and greedily suckled, staring up at Liam with big, dark eyes as he concentrated on each pull. The tyke was cute. He’d give the boy that.

As Kyle slurped, Liam heard the clink of the shower pipes. The woman was grooming again? Liam rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t mind a shower and some hot food, considering he’d been up since four a.m. and hadn’t managed either one.

He relaxed into the buttery leather cushion as Kyle’s eyes drooped heavily and his pulls slowed. Shortly, the lad sucked nothing but air from the empty bottle, so Liam gently eased it from his little mouth. Kyle’s face scrunched up, as if he meant to start wailing again. As he parted his lips, it wasn’t a cry that emerged but a sturdy burp. Kyle blinked, looking surprised. Liam chuckled and stood, carrying the boy to the playpen and tucking the fuzzy blue blanket around him. Kyle dropped off in seconds.

Liam wasn’t sure how long the boy would nap, but he hoped to have a good hour to get to the bottom of Gwyneth’s scheme. As soon as he found some more fucking food. God, he was starving.

Grabbing a cup of yogurt and a spoon from the kitchen, Liam ate and glanced around the condo. He spied Gwyneth’s open purse lying on the counter and began to prowl through the black Versace hobo bag. He wasn’t exactly sure what he sought, but he hoped to find a clue about her intentions—notes, correspondence, documents—anything. Other than cosmetics and some breath mints, he found it nearly empty…and surprisingly void of baby things.

Gwyneth had tucked her cell in one of the pockets. Picking it up, he scrolled through the device. No apps that charted child development or programs designed to entertain the wee one.

He launched her Facebook and scrolled down her timeline. Nothing about work, family, or even Kyle. Instead, he saw lots of shopping and trips to the spa. Of course, some people never posted about their personal lives or children for security reasons. Understandable, he supposed. She had a friend request from some young chap in London eager to show off his chest.

Liam frowned, then flipped to her text messages. James, Colin, Andrew, Ryan. The list went on… At the bottom, a message from her sister. Gwyneth had wished her older sibling a nice holiday. He flipped open the message from the bloke at the top of the list to find some sexts and a close-up of him wanking himself. Liam quickly shut the window with a grimace.

After that, he could only imagine how dreadful the pictures on her phone’s camera would be. He hoped to hell she hadn’t taken pictures of herself masturbating and sent them back to the man.

The shower shut off, and he knew he didn’t have much time to spare. But he couldn’t be squeamish now if he wanted any clue about what his ex-wife intended.

Liam quickly scrolled until he found her camera roll. The images were chronological, listed by month and year. The more recent ones even listed days.

He chose the photo she’d last taken—a pair of Prada shoes—and began scrolling back. Food, spas, girlfriends, bars, and men. Lots and lots of bars. Even more men. Selfies of her partying at various London nightclubs, each with a different glass and a different fellow. Last week, the week before, the month before… He frowned. She’d been drinking it up three days after Kyle’s birth? And somewhere called Paramount Bar two days before she’d delivered the child, when she was supposedly very pregnant?

Cursing under his breath, Liam shoved the phone away. So Gwyneth hadn’t been the chaste flower she claimed since he’d seen her last at that bloody benefit. What he hadn’t noticed was a single picture of Kyle—not sleeping or playing or looking cute. What mother didn’t have a picture of her infant? Of course, Gwyneth hadn’t seemed like a model for motherhood. Still, the fact that she lacked even one snapshot of the boy she’d nurtured inside her body and given birth to made Liam’s suspicions whirl.

She’d tracked him down to introduce him to his supposed son and plead with him to become a family. In the absence of any other motive, Liam had believed her…somewhat. He’d been disturbed that she seemed to view the child as a nuisance more than a blessing. Of course, she’d once seen her husband in that same light. Still, he might have been persuaded to believe she’d changed a bit, maybe shifted her priorities since becoming a mother—until now. Everything on her phone just reinforced that she was the same good-time girl he’d divorced.

Not only did he wonder if Kyle was his son, Liam now wondered if the lad was even Gwyneth’s. He had his doubts, which was a huge fucking relief. But if the kid wasn’t hers, who did he belong to? And why had she tried to pass Kyle off as theirs?

The way Liam saw it, Gwyneth seemed almost desperate to have him in her life again, perhaps even recklessly inventing a son. What the devil was she really after?

Liam had no bloody idea. Time to turn up the heat.

He had no more than tucked her phone away when his own began vibrating in his pocket. He slid it free and checked the screen as he moved to the window.

“Seth, talk to me.”

“Well, hello to you, too, asshole.” His friend laughed.

“Sorry. I don’t have a lot of time. Gwyneth is getting out of the shower.”

“Did you get her dirty?”

“No. Fuck no. Would you touch her?”

Seth made a gagging noise. “The thought made me throw up in my mouth a little.”

Liam rubbed at the back of his neck. “Me, too.”

“Turns out her father actually is terminal,” Seth confirmed. “Cancer. He’s not expected to live much longer. Maybe a month at most.”

“No shit, huh?” So his ex-wife occasionally did tell the truth.

Liam wondered if she’d been honest about anything else. Had he misjudged Kyle’s parentage? Was it possible he’d fathered the boy after all? His gut said no, but…

“Lots of speculation in the business section of the paper about what will happen to his empire,” Seth continued.

“Gwyneth and her sister have never been interested in actually working, so I’m not surprised. Anything more about Kyle’s birth?”

“That’s where things take a weird turn. I’m coming up empty handed. There are no recent births recorded under the name Kyle O’Neill, which is already odd. I also looked up Kyle Sinclair, just to be thorough. Nothing within the last six months. Then I tried to cross-reference Gwyneth’s name as the birth mother. No record of that, either.”

Which meant the birth certificate she’d shown him earlier today had likely been forged.

“If Gwyneth had given birth, she should be listed as a mother on that baby’s birth certificate,” Seth explained. “Can you think of another name she’d be using?”

“No. She’s always used Sinclair.” Even when they’d been married.

“Liam…I’ve got to tell you, I’m not even sure this is her kid.”

“I’m thinking that myself.” In fact, Liam was almost convinced.

“That’s all I’ve got so far. I’ll keep looking and let you know if I find anything else, but I’m not expecting much more today. The UK is eight hours ahead of us, so all official government offices are closed for the night.”

“I appreciate all you’ve found.” Liam hung up and sighed. He needed a game plan to make Gwyneth talk—and fast.

The snick of the bathroom door opening and a soft rustling sound made him turn. And stare.

Gwyneth stood before him in almost nothing. What little scraps she wore were siren red. The bra, if he could call it that, sloped over her shoulders with delicate scalloped straps. The quarter cups cradled the underside of her enhanced breasts, exposing her tight pink nipples. Below the long, lean line of her abdomen that didn’t bear a single stretch mark, a tiny scrap of peekaboo mesh cupped her hips—and completely exposed her waxed mons.

If that body has ever been through pregnancy and childbirth, then I’m the bloody Pope. You’ve yanked my chain long enough, woman.

She struck what she thought was a seductive pose, sliding a hand into her fluffed hair now spilling in wide curls around her shoulders, batting her false lashes and pursing her red-painted lips in a pout. Liam felt his stomach buckle.

Gwyneth flashed him a come-hither smile and turned slowly to reveal her wiggling ass, adorned with a red, silky bow just above the pert cheeks, bisected by her lacy thong. The ensemble looked like something out of a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalog, but Gwyneth couldn’t get even the slightest rise out of him.

Swaying, she faced him once more, curling her lips coyly. “Liam…”

She approached on red patent stilettoes, tiptoeing in six-inch heels secured by cuffs around the ankles, drawn together with a black silken tie like a corset. Everything about her looked overblown and ridiculous. She was trying far too hard to seduce him.

When they’d been together, she’d often tried to control him with sex. She hadn’t seemed terribly interested in the sex itself. Liam didn’t imagine for a second that he alone flipped her switch in some way she couldn’t live without. So what the bloody hell did the woman want? Him, he supposed. Or more likely something from him.

Either way, her desperation would make it easier to manipulate her until he got the answers he sought.

Then his nightmare grew more real as she settled awkwardly onto her knees before him, her back stiff, her thighs spread as if she tried to emulate a submissive pose she’d seen on the Internet. Unfortunately, in those knickers, he could see the bare lips of her sex. He grimaced.

Liam had no doubt Gwyneth had never attempted such a position in her life.

What. The. Fuck?

“What do you think, darling?” Gwyneth purred as she caressed her way up her thighs, as if wanting to display all her treasures there just for his taking.

Somehow, he managed to paste on a smile. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“I’ve missed you. I wanted to show you all the ways I’ve changed and prove that I’ve learned to embrace your needs.”

Liam stared down at her, trying not to snort. She didn’t know the first thing about his needs. But if she wanted to hand over her control, he’d use it to get some answers and give her an experience she’d never forget.

Standing above her, as immovable as a mountain, legs parted, shoulders squared, Liam folded his arms across his chest. “My needs?”

She bowed her head in a parody of surrender before she peeked up at him from under her fake lashes. “I understand now. I’ve read all about them and I want to give you my submission.” She licked her lips. “Make this the best you’ve ever had…Master.”

Gwyneth had no idea what she was talking about. He stared at her throat and fought the urge to shake the silly bitch until her teeth rattled. “You want my Dominance, do you?”

“Mmm. I like the sound of that,” she moaned.

“Are you sure? I’ve changed, too. My tastes run dark now.”

She paused, then flashed him a mega-watt smile. “Yes. Yes! Dark sounds lovely.”

You think that now. Just wait…

“Please give me a chance… Since we have Kyle now, you and I should begin a new life together. I’ll surrender everything so you know I’m serious. Let’s try, darling. Do it for me. For Kyle…”

He should scene with her for the baby’s sake? Twisted logic. Liam shook his head. He couldn’t look too eager, but he intended to have fun with this. “I suppose.”

“Wonderful.” She cupped her breasts in her hands for him and moaned. “I’ll satisfy you so completely you won’t ever want anyone else.”

Liam tried not to sneer. “You’ll need a safe word, Gwyneth.”

“I know what that is.” She nodded, as if excited by her own ability to read a website. “It’s a word I say if things get too intense. Then we’ll stop and we discuss.”

“Usually, but not in my case. If you say your safe word, I’ll know that my needs are too much for you and we’d be better off apart. If you say it, everything stops…forever.”

“I won’t need it. I’ve been looking forward to this since the moment I saw you again.”

“Your safe word is…” Infidelity. “Abstinence.”

“Why that?” She reared back.

“Because you would never say it while you’re having sex, now, would you?”

“No,” she breathed. “I wouldn’t. You are clever. Liam, this is an exciting game.”

“Game, yes.” He managed not to roll his eyes as he gestured her across the room. “Come to the living room.”

She sauntered across the kitchen, swinging her hips in an exaggerated sway, making the floppy bow at the small of her back bob. With a kittenish smile, she tossed him a saucy glance over her shoulder. When she reached the sofa, she turned and leaned back, unhooking her nearly nonexistent bra. Her breasts didn’t move as she flung the garment away.

Pinching her own nipples, she sent him a teasing stare. “Do you like what you see?”

“I’m in charge, girl. You don’t talk unless I give you permission. I didn’t tell you to strip.”

“But don’t you want me naked?” She shoved her knickers off, then slid them back and forth over her pussy with a groan.

Liam tried not to wince. “Stop. You’re not allowed to touch yourself without my permission.”

“I’m not, at least not with my hands. You can do that for me.”

Not in a million years.“Drop the knickers. Put your hands behind your head, girl.” He twisted his face into his most serious Dom expression and waited until she complied. “Good. Now stay right here. I need some special toys for our…game.”

“Toys?” She sounded as excited as a child at Christmas.

“I told you not to talk. Are you ill-equipped to handle me? Do we need to stop here and now?”

She shook her head frantically and pressed her lips together. Thankfully, she didn’t say another word.

Spinning on his heel, Liam whirled back through the condo and into the bedroom. Sure enough, in the back of the closet, he found a big, dark duffel bag. He hoisted it onto his shoulder. Heavier than fuck. Liam smiled for the first time since arriving here. Now he could have some fun. He’d bet the good doctor kept an arsenal of interesting shit.

Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he returned to the little living room. Gwyneth had splayed herself out on the back of the sofa, long legs spread wide. “I know I’m not supposed to talk, but I wanted to show you that I waxed just for you.”

He couldn’t look. “Quiet! I’ve told you to hold your tongue. We were going to start with pleasure, but now…” He shook his head in mock regret. “Well, it’s punishment for you.”

She gasped. “Will it hurt?”

“It will now.”

Liam was almost thankful for the months he’d spent as a sadist after his divorce. At the time, he’d thought that inflicting pain on subs who craved the hurt might release the resentment he felt toward Gwyneth for her betrayal. But it hadn’t, and he realized he wasn’t the kind of man who simply enjoyed doling out torture. For his ex-wife, he’d make an exception. Not that he’d hurt her physically in any lasting way. But fuck with her mind? He couldn’t wait.

“Turn around. Bend over the sofa.” When she hesitated, he sent her a warning glare. “You’re trying my patience.”

Finally, she turned, still looking at him over her shoulder, as if she didn’t quite trust his mood…or him.

“Head down.” Once she’d complied, he sidled closer and growled in her ear. “Hands at the small of your back.”

She shivered and arched, pointing her ass in the air. “As soon as I show you this.”

Gwyneth grabbed her cheeks and eased them apart. Idly, he realized she’d even waxed and bleached there. He leaned over her back so he didn’t have to see that again.

“I didn’t ask you to show me anything.” When she didn’t respond, he curled his fingers into her hair and tugged, knowing it stung her scalp just a bit. “Did I?”

“Oh, Liam… You have changed. Y-you’re so thrilling.”

“Excellent. Just think, Gwyneth. Every day will be like this for us if I come back to you. Would you like that?”

She nodded, her skin flushing.

“I’m sure you would. You’ll surrender your will to me and beg me to use you like the dirty slut you are.”

Gwyneth froze. She’d never heard him talk like this. Probably never even imagined he could.

Liam sent her a cold smile. “Won’t you?”

She peeked back at him. “I…um, yes.”

“Head down,” he warned again. Reluctantly, she turned away and focused on the couch cushions again. “Say it. Beg me to make you a dirty slut.”

She struggled for breath now. “Liam… Why are you using that terrible slur?”

Because that’s what you called Raine. “It’s a term of endearment to a Dom. Say it or give me your safe word.”

He heard her swallow. Her entire body tensed. She fought herself. Balk and risk losing him or say something that went absolutely against her grain? On the one hand, if she bailed now, he could end this farce, have a hot meal and a shower, then hold Raine in his arms. On the other hand…jerking Gwyneth around was more than a wee bit of fun.

“Make me your dirty slut, Liam,” she breathed out, sounding as excited as someone holding toxic waste.

“Who am I?” He tugged a bit harder on her hair.

“Master.”

Liam grimaced, then reached into Beck’s bag of tricks and rummaged around. Not surprisingly, he found exactly what he needed.

“Yes. I’m the Master. You’re the slut. See?” He shoved the impression paddle he clutched in Gwyneth’s face. “What will your skin say when I smack your ass with this?”

She stared at the leather implement, then blinked, looking horrified. “S-slut.”

“Isn’t that perfect?” He hissed in her ear. “While I punish you, I’ll mark you. Everyone who sees this ass for the next few days will know who and what you are.”

Bracing himself on the small of her back, he raised his arm and waited. Her body tensed. She squeezed her cheeks together. Gwyneth wasn’t submissive. Surely, she would safeword now so he could walk away from her “romantic” overtures. In twenty-four hours, when the swab in his pocket proved Kyle wasn’t his son, he’d never have to see her again.

Nearly ten seconds passed. She said nothing. He stared at her taut back as she held her breath. Did she really not intend to balk?

So be it…

He flung his arm down, snapping his wrist. The paddle met her flesh with a resounding smack. Gwyneth screamed and buried her face in the sofa cushion, muffling the god-awful sound. The word slut blossomed in a red welt across her stark white flesh. Liam smiled in satisfaction.

“Do you want another?”

“No!”

“Then stand up.”

Stiffly, she rose to her full height. She turned to him with an accusing glare, moisture welling in her eyes. Liam wondered if those were the first genuine tears she’d ever cried for him.

“You did well,” he praised softly. “Your ass will be a lovely shade of red for days.” He wended around the sofa and eased down, setting the paddle on his right and pointing to a spot on his left. “Sit here.”

Gwyneth frowned and followed with slow footsteps. Apparently, she’d already realized that sitting on leather was going to be bitterly cold and hurt even more.

Beside him now, she sank gingerly toward the sofa. The instant her ass made contact, she stood again. “I don’t think I can.”

“Breathe through the pain. It’s much easier than childbirth, and you survived that so well.”

She shot another glare in his direction.

“Or do you need to say that safe word? Like I said, I know that what I want now may be too much for you.”

Her face bunched up with determination, and she eased back down to the couch with a hiss. She wriggled, seeking a comfortable position, leaning on the unoffended cheek.

He slung an arm around her shoulder to set her flat again and nestled his lips against her ear. “Struggle for me. I like to watch you endure.”

Finally, she stilled, her whole body tense, eyes closed, shoulders halfway up her neck. “You do?”

When she squeaked the question, Liam bit the inside of his cheek. “Hmm. I’d like to see a bit more.” He reached around the side of the sofa and dragged the duffel to his feet. After a quick search inside, he found something else she was guaranteed to hate.

He unwrapped the little metal implements from their plastic packaging and handed them to her. “Put them on, slut.”

She tensed, her eyes narrowing. No doubt, she hated that word. Finally, she dragged her gaze back to the object in her palm. “What are they?”

“I thought you’d researched for me.” He sent her a disappointed scowl.

“I-I did. I just…” She shook her head. “I can’t recall. Jet lag’s got me a bit.”

“They’re Japanese clover clamps.” He sent her a raised brow. “For your nipples.”

Shock crossed Gwyneth’s face as she looked down at the molded metal. She studied the shiny pair of clamps, then turned them over in her hand with a frown.

He grabbed them and squeezed the sides. “Open them like so. Set your nipple between these rubber pads, then let go. They’ll pinch a wee bit.”

“Oh.” Her face tightened. “All right, then.”

When she took them from his hand, she looked less hesitant. That won’t last long…

He sent her a benign smile. “You’re doing fine, slut.”

She bristled again for a moment before she smoothed her expression and squeezed the sides of the clamps, trying to line them up with the hard tips of her breasts. Then she drew in a steadying breath and slowly let go.

Her eyes flew open. Her breath hitched. She looked at him as if he’d gone mad. Her high-pitched keening followed. She sounded a bit like a braying donkey.

“Help me. I can’t…” She gasped again and yanked the metal contraptions off. “Please!”

“You’re not ready for this?” He took the clamp away with a scowl, then tossed both on the coffee table. “Gwyneth, I’ve got to tell you… I don’t know if we’ll work out. I like a sub’s struggle through the pain. So far, you’ve done little but complain.”

“I’ll get better,” she vowed. “I need practice. Maybe…if we share a little pleasure first, then I’ll be able to do anything.” She reached for his zipper.

Before she could touch him, he snatched her wrist in his tight grip and scowled at her with a thunderous expression. “You don’t have permission to touch me.”

“Permission? I can’t be with you if I don’t touch you,” she wheedled. “This game is confusing, Liam.”

“Try to open your mind. Maybe we can work up to these tasks soon. For now, let’s try something that doesn’t involve pain.”

“Yes.” She latched on to his offer immediately. “I’d like that.”

He sent her an indulgent smile, knowing she’d hate what he planned next even more. “Wait right here.”

Liam rose and went into the kitchen. It took him a moment to search for a bowl, but he found one that would work well enough, then filled it with water and set it on the floor in front of the sink.

Repressing his smile of evil glee, he sauntered around the corner and hovered just inside the kitchen. “Come to me.”

With a wince, she did her best to rise from the leather sofa. But her raw backside stuck to the surface. She whimpered as she peeled herself free and rounded the arm of the couch.

“Stop,” he commanded. “You misunderstand me.”

She sent him a quizzical stare. “I’m coming to the kitchen, like you asked.”

He shook his head. “On your hands and knees.”

Gwyneth blanched. “You mean…crawl?”

“Precisely, slut. And wiggle your ass for me like you did when you were wearing your little bow.”

Her eyes bulged out. She gaped at him. “That arouses you?”

“As long as you’re the one crawling to me.”

She mulled his words for a long moment, clearly trying to decide if he meant them.

“I’ve given you an order,” he told her. “You know your choices. Don’t keep me waiting or I’ll get the paddle and I’ll be forced to smack your other cheek.”

Immediately, she fell to her hands and knees. Her head dropped. Her shoulders sagged. He almost had her right where he wanted her.

She winced and hissed with each little movement over the hardwood. It seemed to take forever, but she finally reached his feet.

“Now follow me into the kitchen. I’ve got a treat for you.”

Gwyneth didn’t look like she quite believed him. Liam ignored her skeptical stare and walked her to the bowl, holding her by the hair at her nape as if it were her scruff. She gave the bowl a bewildered stare.

“Drink,” he commanded. “Show me what a sweet little bitch you are. Lap up your water, then give me a happy bark.”

“A bark? Like a dog?” She launched to her feet. “Are you mad? This is ridiculous!”

He shot her a narrow-eyed glare, chest out, fists on his hips. “That’s not your safe word.”

“I can’t… I’m not a dog.” She shuddered. “It’s too vulgar.”

“You’re not one for puppy play?” He mocked a disappointed frown. “I suppose it’s important I know your limits now. I’ll grant this has been a tough day for you. But I hope you’ll be in a better frame of mind for this tomorrow.”

She sent him a stilted smile that told him hell would freeze over first, but she didn’t say a word.

“Why don’t we try some pleasure for now?” he suggested. “You haven’t earned it precisely, but I see some effort. I’ll reward that.”

She sent him a relieved smile. “Yes, please. Kyle is in the bedroom, so I suppose we can’t go there, but we have the sofa or the table or—”

“Show me how ready you are first.” He pulled out a chair. To his delight, the seat was made of a hard, solid wood—no cushion.

Gwyneth looked at it fretfully. “Can I have a towel or a pillow?”

He shook his head sternly. “If you sit, there might be an orgasm in your future.”

At that, she perked up and eased slowly into the seat. Immediately, she regretted her decision and cringed. Liam pressed his lips together to hold in a laugh.

“Wait here.” He meandered back to the bag of tricks and took his time searching through all the goodies inside. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for but then…yes. He found the perfect toys.

Withdrawing the items he needed, Liam headed back into the kitchen, setting one on its side on the kitchen counter. This ought to finish her off…

“Spread your legs and brace your feet on either side of the chair’s legs,” he told her as he sauntered closer once more. “Nice and wide. Just like that.”

She did so quickly, as if she couldn’t wait to show him what lay between her legs. In fact, she looked proud of herself.

Yes, you were born with a vagina. Congratulations… Now you’ll find out it doesn’t always get you what you want.

Liam knelt at her feet, carefully positioning himself outside her spread thighs, then wrapped one cuff around the leg of the chair and her ankle, strapping them together and securing the Velcro. Crouching on the other side of her body, he repeated the process.

With her restrained to the chair, he rose to his full height and grabbed the other item, unwrapping it with a grin. Then he turned to her, holding it in his outstretched hand. “Suck this, slut. Get it wet. Then I want you to shove it in your cunt, nice and deep for me.”

Hesitantly, she took the dildo in her hand. Neon orange and the size of a freakishly large porn star, she stared down at the silicone, frozen. “It’s so large.”

“Indeed. Does it make you hot? I can’t wait to see you take it all.”

“It won’t fit,” she argued.

He scowled at her. “Of course it will. You’ve had a baby. This is much smaller than Kyle’s head, so you should have no trouble. Now stop being a mouthy slut and do as I say.”

Her mouth gaped open, then closed, only to open again. She sighed, then lifted the big tool to her lips. She looked more like she braced herself to suck a lemon than a phallus.

No matter how wide she parted her lips, she couldn’t wrap them completely around the dildo. She licked her lips, sighed in frustration, then tried to tongue the silicone. Grimacing at its taste, she finally resorted to drawing it close to her mouth and spitting on it gently.

Liam had to bite back a laugh. She’d probably never spit in her life, likely even refused to do it for the dentist. Well, she did spit after a blow job.

He smirked. “You’re doing fine. Yes… Now put it in your cunt.”

Gwyneth looked even more hesitant. “Really, I don’t think—”

“I didn’t ask you to think. I asked you to fuck that. To please me. All you’re doing is flapping your gums. How is that submission?”

She swallowed hard as she lowered the dildo to her opening. She wasn’t nearly wet enough to even try. Of course Gwyneth wasn’t aroused. What got her hot was being adored. She enjoyed that far more than actual sex.

As the silicone phallus touched her folds, the tip of it seemed to eclipse most of her pussy. A glance told him that she’d have to defy the laws of physics to make this fit.

Wearing a look of concentration, she pushed a little. Then a bit harder, shifting in her seat and wriggling, before wincing.

“Keep going. Shove that in your wee hole. Stretch it. Make it burn for me,” he encouraged.

She dropped the dildo to her side with a frustrated sigh. “Liam, shut up. You must know it won’t fit.”

“Shut up, is it? That doesn’t sound submissive at all,” he scolded.

She glowered at him, then tried to fix her expression. “What’s so wrong with normal sex? Let’s reconnect before we try dirty and deviant. I want to touch your skin, hold you close, feel you inside me. Maybe we can make another baby.”

Liam cringed, then tried to recover. “Are you safewording out, then?”

Gwyneth huffed. “Stop with these silly games. Honestly, bark like a dog? Do you really find that arousing?”

“No.” He grinned. “I’ve never engaged in that particular kink in my life. But watching you try amused the hell out of me. How does your ass feel, by the way?”

“This was all a…game to you?” She gaped.

He just smiled. “You kept calling it one, so…”

Her face flashed red as she ground her teeth together and screeched. “You bastard! You heartless, cruel—”

“You’ve yanked my chain all day. Consider this quid pro quo.”

“I didn’t humiliate you!”

“Two years ago you did. Today, you’ve disrupted my whole life. I’m on to you.” He leaned over her chair and wrapped his hands around the back, mostly to prevent himself from strangling her, and hovered right above her face. “I don’t think Kyle is my son. I’m not even convinced he’s your son. You don’t care for him properly, and you don’t give a shit about his welfare. The DNA swab in my pocket will prove that by tomorrow.”

“You took the sample without my permission?” Her face distorted in horror.

“I had your permission. You also gave me several excuses why I should wait. I simply chose not to.”

She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, then seemed to swallow down her anger. “Never mind. Darling, you and I share a more sophisticated love than these foolish games imply. Let’s rekindle it. Carry me to the sofa, and we’ll make love like we used to. I miss—”

“Shut up and listen.” He gritted his teeth. “We don’t share a ‘sophisticated love.’ We don’t share anything at all. I don’t care what you do, where you go, who you fuck, or how you choose to live. There is no you and I, Gwyneth, and there never will be again.” He tugged on her hair and glared into her face. “And for the record, even if I’d been without sex for a century and you were the last woman on earth, I wouldn’t touch you again. Ever.”

She paled for a moment before her eyes blazed with indignation and a terrible fury. “How dare you! You can’t treat me like I’m less important than your gutter-fed whore. I am an aristocrat, damn it! Fourteen generations of Sinclairs have reigned with kings and married royalty.”

“Why did you come, Gwyneth? Why did you go to the trouble of borrowing a baby and flying halfway around the world? Why do you want me back? It must be pretty damn important.”

Her face closed up. “I’ve told you. You’ve chosen not to believe me.”

Liam would have liked a real answer to his question, but it wasn’t worth spending more time in her company to find out. “I never will.”

Then he left, not looking back.

* * *

Raine parked in a visitor’s spot in the parking lot at Beck’s condo complex and cut off her little sedan’s engine. She glanced at her phone and grimaced. The line at the post office had been stupidly long and slow. The dry cleaners had taken twenty minutes just finding Liam’s and Hammer’s things. And she’d dithered too long over lingerie for tonight.

She’d been texting Hammer off and on all afternoon. He’d grumbled that they didn’t have his favorite sandwich fixings for lunch, so she’d also grabbed fresh subs for the men. He and Liam, who had missed breakfast, must both be hungry. She’d have to scratch groceries off her list for today or she’d be late for dinner. Just this last stop and then she’d be with them for a hopefully peaceful evening.

Raine unbuckled the big fruit bouquet from the front seat, then darted out of the car and around to the other side. As she lifted it from the passenger’s side, she balanced the basket, her phone, and her car keys, then headed into the lobby of Beck’s building. She hoped he enjoyed the goodies, but what else did a sub get another Dom as a thank-you-for-helping-me-with-my-submission gift?

The doorman greeted her warmly, obviously remembering her from her stay here last week, when she’d been hiding out after running away from Hammer and Liam.

Shoving the ugly memories aside, she smiled back. “Would it be possible to leave this in Dr. Beckman’s refrigerator?”

The uniformed man flipped through the papers on his clipboard and nodded. “Sure. He added you to his list so you can come by anytime.”

“I don’t have a key.”

“I’ll get you in. Or his current houseguest can help you out, too.”

Houseguest?Raine shrugged. Maybe he’d had someone visit him unexpectedly or was letting another doctor crash at his place. If that was the case, she’d have to be quiet.

“Thank you.”

“This way.” He led her through the secure double doors, across the lobby, to a bank of elevators and pressed the button. “You getting ready for the holidays, Miss?”

She smiled, optimistic that Christmas would be much better than her disastrous Thanksgiving, which had started with her migraine and ended with Hammer and Liam at one another’s throats. “I’ll be starting my preparations tomorrow.”

They exchanged small talk until the door to the elevator on her right opened. As she entered and watched the doorman press the button for the penthouse, Raine inspected the fruit bouquet to make certain it was no worse for the wear after the car ride.

She almost missed the ding of the other elevator and the blur of the familiar man in the gray suit storming by. He shoved out the lobby’s secure double door, and it closed behind him before she realized she’d just seen Liam, looking somewhere between determined and smug. A prickle of alarm skittered down her spine.

Raine frowned. What the heck was he doing at Beck’s? Why would he visit when the doctor was in the middle of surgery? And had a houseguest?

The elevator door in front of her began to close. Raine stuck her leg out to stop it.

Hopping to keep her balance, she thrust the fruit basket in the doorman’s hand. “Can you hold this? That was my boyfriend. Something is clearly wrong. One minute…”

She didn’t give the doorman an opportunity to object, just darted out of the lift and ran down the hall. “Liam!”

He didn’t hear her. He’d already pushed his way out the second set of doors into the parking lot and now pressed the phone to his ear. He paused, a deeply satisfied smile adding dimension to his sharp profile. What the hell was going on with him?

“Miss?”

Raine turned. The elevator began to beep. The doorman, wearing a slightly impatient glower, held the fruit bouquet.

When she looked back at the parking lot, Liam sauntered toward his car, still chatting on his cell. She frowned at his retreating back. The elevator’s beep became an insistent buzz. With a little curse, Raine turned away. She’d see Liam in less than an hour. She’d ask him for an explanation then.

“Sorry.” She turned back to the elevator and took the silent ride up twenty-something floors, ignoring the doorman’s questioning gaze.

Once the doors parted, she made her way to the corner unit. The guard pulled out a set of keys.

“Go ahead and knock. If the houseguest doesn’t answer, I’ll let you in.”

Tapping on Beck’s door and hoping a stranger answered was awkward, but she supposed he couldn’t just barge in on someone staying with the doctor.

Raine lightly rapped her knuckles on the solid wood and took the fruit basket back in hand. “Thank you.”

Suddenly, the door flung open. “So you’re back, Liam? What is the—” The blonde standing there fixed her scowl on Raine. “Who are you?”

Raine couldn’t breathe. Statuesque, sexy, and lean, the British bombshell looked as if she’d stepped off the pages of a lingerie catalog, especially wearing daring red peekaboo lace undergarments. Despite the woman’s mussed hair, crimson lips, and gentle flush, the most terrifying thing of all was her familiarity.

Weeks ago, she’d Googled Liam’s ex-wife. Now she wished she hadn’t. She looked even more gorgeous in person.

The woman shifted her attention to the doorman, who gaped beside Raine, and gave him a haughty glare. “You may leave.”

The doorman blushed profusely, then backed away, disappearing into the elevator.

“Gwyneth.” The shell-shocked whisper fell from Raine’s lips. She almost couldn’t keep the heavy basket from slipping through her numb fingers.

“Who the devil are you? Oh, you must be the maid. You’re impertinent. Call me Ms. Sinclair. Come back in twenty minutes. I’ll need clean sheets and towels, and you’ll—”

The sound of a baby wailing from inside the condo stunned Raine. Why would Liam’s ex-wife be in Beck’s condo with a baby?

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” The woman rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Might as well come in now and get started.”

She flung the door open wide and whirled around toward the bedroom. Her pert backside looked red and freshly branded. The word slut had been imprinted temporarily onto her cheek with some sort of impression paddle.

As if suddenly self-conscious, Gwyneth grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and began picking up all the implements of BDSM play scattered around the room. A dildo. Restraints with Velcro cuffs.

Stunned mute, Raine blinked and shuffled in. The sight only grew more disturbing. Clover clamps lay on the coffee table. The slut paddle sat on the nearby sofa. Gwyneth scooped those up, too, as the baby howled in the background.

Beck was a sadist, and this was his place. Gwyneth was his houseguest…except he was in surgery. The woman looked freshly flushed, and Liam had just exited the building, looking quite satisfied. Beck hadn’t known the woman long enough to have fathered a baby with her. But Liam had.

Oh, god. She was going to be sick.

Gwyneth disappeared into the bedroom. Raine barely managed to unload the fruit bouquet on the countertop dividing the living room and kitchen. The other woman had since belted a robe around her scantily clad figure and picked up the baby. Dark curls and dark eyes. Raine could so easily see them as having come from Liam.

Had he decided to return to his ex-wife, the mother of his child? Had his lovemaking earlier today been a bittersweet good-bye? Did he and Hammer intend to sit her down tonight over dinner and tell her that Liam had a son and intended to take up with this bitch again?

“Why are you just standing there?” Gwyneth huffed. “You can start in the bedroom.”

No way could Raine go back there. She desperately wanted to know if she’d find any more evidence of her passion with Liam. On the other hand, hadn’t she gotten enough of an eyeful already? Seeing firsthand that he’d scened with her was bad enough, but to find out he’d taken the woman to bed and thrust inside her—

Raine swallowed the thought—and the resulting bile—as the day’s events rushed back at her. Liam had been eager to leave the lodge this morning. To rush back to Gwyneth? Well, of course. Why wouldn’t he want a woman who’d given birth to his child and still looked like a supermodel? He’d refused to touch her in the car. Maybe she’d mistaken his anger for indifference. Liam hadn’t explained his mood. Obviously, Hammer had lied that the issue revolved around his business because he’d been temporarily covering for his old friend. Liam had fucked her as a kiss-off, and Hammer had been pissed about that. They’d spoken afterward, once Macen had told her to start the shower. Raine hadn’t heard more than a hum of their conversation, but they’d exchanged fast, furious dialogue. Then Liam had disappeared.

Apparently to spend some “quality” time with his ex-wife.

The hurt cleaved Raine’s chest, devastating her. Pain overwhelmed her until she couldn’t breathe. Every second seemed to last a thousand years as she watched Gwyneth pat the baby and stare at her impatiently.

It wasn’t this woman’s fault that Liam wanted her more. But after Gwyneth had cheated on him, Raine would have thought Liam would steer clear.

Looking at the stunning vixen, Raine knew why he hadn’t.

“Get moving,” Gwyneth demanded.

“I’m not the maid,” she muttered finally.

“Who the devil are you, then?” Gwyneth cocked her head to the side and sidled closer, seeming to examine her with sharp green eyes. “Raine?”

She lifted her head and glared back. So Liam had mentioned her. Raine didn’t know if she was happy that she’d been worth his acknowledgment or pissed off that the man she thought she loved had spoken about his last lover to his once-ex-and-again-current squeeze.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Raine breathed.

“You must. You came to see me.” The woman narrowed her eyes, shooting her another scrutinizing stare. “Did you see Liam as you arrived? What did he tell you about us?”

Us?Raine’s stomach rolled again.

“Nothing.” He hadn’t even stopped to look at her. Raine had imagined that he simply hadn’t heard her…but maybe he just hadn’t wanted to bother.

Finally, a smile curled Gwyneth’s lips. “He must have been in a hurry. He’s so excited to begin our lives together again, this time with his son. This is Kyle.”

Gwyneth grasped the baby’s wrist and moved it to simulate the baby waving.

Hearing the woman confirm all her worst fears had Raine backing up a step.

Pity crossed the other woman’s face. “Really, Raine. What did you think was going to happen? You’re cute, and I’m sure you have a great personality, but Liam needs more than you can give him. Did you imagine that he preferred you over me, especially when that meant taking Hammer’s sloppy seconds?”

“He loves me.” She tried to convince herself as much as Gwyneth.

The pity deepened. “Did he tell you that? Oh, poor girl. He is a silver-tongued devil. Of course he’d tell you what you want to hear so he could get you into bed, but now he and I are quite reconciled and—”

“You cheated on him.” Raine frowned. The kind but firm man who’d told her about the painful dissolution of his marriage couldn’t be this heartbreaking barracuda Gwyneth described.

“To get his attention.” She waved Raine’s concern away. “I thought he had a plaything on the side and… Well, the misunderstanding is all quite resolved now. And so happily.”

Acute pain slashed through Raine. She staggered back another step. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. Liam had never seemed like a liar, cheat, or player.

But how else could she possibly interpret Gwyneth’s attire, all the implements of pain and impact play she’d seen…and, of course, the baby?

“Poor thing. You’re crushed.” Gwyneth managed to look contrite. “In your shoes, I’d be utterly humiliated. I’m not sure I’d speak to the bastard again. Liam is a man with dark tastes. He enjoys the hunt, the game. I’m afraid you haven’t been much sport. From woman to woman, let me give you some advice: Wash your hands of him this minute, and he’ll never have the power to hurt you again. I’ll make certain he doesn’t bother you anymore.”

Gwyneth gave Raine what she supposed passed as a kind smile. It looked more like a shark flashing its teeth. Or maybe she just felt that way because this gorgeous woman trumped her every day and twice on Sunday. Raine knew she was never getting Liam back.

Did she really want to be his pity fuck or “pet” project anyway?

Betrayal washed a chill through her. Raine didn’t want to believe Gwyneth, but with so much proof, how could she think otherwise?

A sob rose from the depths of her chest. Her whole body jerked. Her face crumbled. No way would she let this beautiful bitch see her cry.

Raine turned and ran from the condo and the building, tears blurring her vision as she climbed into her car. The old her would have run far and fast and never looked back. She wasn’t even sure what this Raine would do as she drove away.