Page 60 of Going Deep

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Wave after wave of pulsing pleasure wracked her body, her hips jerking as her cunt fluttered and clenched in hard spasms. Her ass clamped down on the invading plug, intensifying the orgasm.

She let out a shuddering moan as her body sagged…and she heard the applause. Cheers, clapping. Close, so close it was like…she opened her eyes and froze, her breath freezing in her lungs. A ring of people stood around her. Watching her. Voices talking about her. Laughing. Oh God. They’d seen. Her legs were pinned back, her butt in the air, and all these people had seen…

Oh God, no.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Michael stared in shock as Ginger froze, her eyes wide and wild with panic. What the hell had just happened?

He cursed under his breath when she started to struggle, pulling so hard on the restraints that if the bench hadn’t been bolted into the floor, she might have tipped it over. He hurried to her side, stepping up and leaning over so she could see his face, hear his voice.

“Ginger, what’s wrong? Are you hurting? Talk to me, darling.”

She didn’t seem to hear him, just kept pulling and yanking on the restraints, and he winced. The cuffs were wide and wouldn’t cut into her skin, but if she kept yanking, she’d bruise her wrists. “Stop. Ginger, stop!” He laid his hands over hers to ensure she followed orders.

“Look at me, Ginger. Right now.”

He let out a sigh of relief when her eyes focused on his, but it was short-lived. The pupils were dilated, her eyes filled with fear, tears spilling over while he watched.

“Please,” she whispered, and the panic in her voice sent a shard of ice straight to his gut. “I can’t. People watching. Please. Blue, blue, blue!”

Realization hit, and he cursed under his breath. “Okay, baby, just hang on.”

He kept his hand on her wrists, kept his body positioned between her and the rest of the room as he looked around. Spotting Ben nearby, he jerked his head. “Ben, I need a blanket. Fast.”

Ben nodded his understanding and moved quickly, returning with a soft, fluffy blanket in moments. “Here you go, baby,” he told her, spreading the blanket over her. She relaxed minutely, but shudders still wracked her body, and her breathing was much too fast.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I’m going to take out the plug and undo your legs, Ginger, then your arms. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, agony ripe in the single syllable. Tears continued to streak from her eyes, soaking into the hair at her temples. “Please, hurry.”

“I’ll get her hands, Michael,” Ben murmured, and Michael nodded in grateful acceptance.

“I’ve got you, darling. Just hold on.” He slid his hand under the edge of the blanket and gently removed the plug, whispering words of reassurance when her body jerked in reaction. Ben freed her arms while he dealt with the plug, and she flung them around his neck, nearly strangling him. Gritting his teeth at the trembling that shook her body, he swiftly unclipped the straps from the side of the bench closest to him, then reached across her belly to get the other. And all the while he talked to her, murmuring words of comfort, affection, reassurance—hell, he didn’t know what he said—and she wasn’t hearing him, anyway. She’d gone away, deep inside where it felt safe.

Because she didn’t anymore.

Grim-faced, he folded the blanket around her as tightly as he could and scooped her up into his arms. She curled into him so tightly it was like she was trying to crawl inside him, and the ice in his gut spread.

He glanced at Ben, and the other man nodded. “I’ll get your bag down to the bar.”

Nodding his thanks, Michael tightened his grip and moved through the parting crowd.

The elevator was just past the staircase, the doors sliding open smoothly and silently when he punched the button. He stepped in, using his thumbprint on the scanner to direct it to the fourth floor. As the car rose, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Hang in there, sweetheart.”

She didn’t answer, and he didn’t expect her to.

The elevator doors slid open into his foyer, and he strode through to the large sectional sofa. He sat in the corner, arranging her on his lap so her back was against the thick cushions, her head on his shoulder. He snagged the thick throw from the back of the sofa and tucked it around her legs and feet, then settled back.

He stroked her back, her hair, her legs, murmuring to her. “I’ve got you, darling. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Ginger felt as though she were awakening from a long sleep. Her eyes were gritty, her mouth felt as though she’d been sucking on cotton balls. Her limbs were heavy, and more than anything she wanted to curl up and go back to sleep.

But the voice was talking to her, calling to her, and she gradually became more aware of her surroundings. The hard muscle under her cheek, the strength of the arms that held her. The scent that was uniquely Michael.

She lifted her head slightly and looked up into a hard face and hooded green eyes. “Michael?”

He smiled at her, though his eyes remained dark, and a gentle hand came up to cup her cheek. “There you are,” he murmured. “You know where you are, darling?”