Betting on Fate (7 page)

Chapter Seven

Will recognized what Penelope was doing, but he chose to allow it. This whole conversation had filled him with the unsettled feeling that he was walking along the edge of a cliff, and one wrong step would send him hurtling over. It was far safer to move back to sex, even with the potential loss of control threatening.

“Show me.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me, pet.”

She looked around, obviously registering that he’d chosen a table a small distance away from the rest, where he could sit with his back to the wall. Which meant no one behind Penelope could see her front. Still, it was a risk and they both knew it. He was testing her, seeing exactly how far her obedience would go. Would she risk getting escorted out of the restaurant because he demanded it of her?

Apparently the answer was yes.

She leaned forward even more, shrugging the strap of her dress off her shoulder and exposing her breast. His gaze dropped to her dark nipple, already puckering as if wanting his mouth there. The force of his desire had him gripping the table to keep from reaching for her. Dinner was supposed to be a slow seduction, one that left Penelope begging for more. Right then, she didn’t look like she was in danger of begging for anything.

No, she was grinning at him as if she knew just how close he was to dragging her to a nearby bathroom and fucking that look right off her face.

She replaced the strap just as the waiter walked up with their food. She was all bright eyes and thanks to the man, but the secret smile on her lips said she knew Will couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d seen her all but naked, but there was something about that illicit peek that just did things for him. He wanted her, and he wanted her now.

He ate with a single-minded intensity, but his entire focus was on her. She kept running her finger down the dip of her dress, adjusting here and there and giving him glimpse after glimpse of those dark nipples.
Christ
.

His fork scraped his plate and he looked down to find it empty. He couldn’t even remember what the damn food tasted like. “You have thirty seconds to finish your meal.”

“Are you feeling a bit overheated, Will?”

He met her gaze. “From this moment on, you know the proper way to address me.”

She jerked back, some of her smugness disappearing. “Yes, Sir.” No questioning. No pushing the limits of his patience. He wasn’t fool enough to believe she wouldn’t start digging in her heels as soon as she got her wits about her, but he didn’t plan on giving her the chance. He paid, tipping the man well, pushed to his feet, and held out his hand for her. She barely had time to slip her hand into his before he was towing her behind him, out of the restaurant and onto the street.

Will had every intention of hailing a cab, but he made it all of three steps before he had to give into the desire to touch her. He pulled her into his arms, his attention landing on her lips. He didn’t make a habit of kissing his submissives. It sent the wrong message and complicated something that didn’t need to be complicated.

But he might die if he didn’t taste Penelope right that instant.

So he did. He took her mouth even as he cupped her ass to line her hips up with his, showing her just what he thought of her being a little tease. She went soft in his arms, eagerly opening her mouth to take him, her tongue meeting his halfway.

He took the two steps to bring them flush against the alley wall, grinding against her until she moaned for him. There was nothing he wanted more than to yank up her dress and take her right there against that wall. It wasn’t a punishment, and it wasn’t a reward—it was something he needed more than he needed air to breathe.

A whistle brought him out of his lust haze. He lifted his head and found they’d acquired an audience at some point. Two college-aged kids stood a little way down the block, nudging each other and grinning like they’d just won the lottery. Penelope’s eyes were glazed over and she arched against him in an attempt to take back his mouth. He almost let her. Will didn’t mind an audience, but not like
this
.

He stepped back and gently guided her to the curb where he hailed a cab. It was on the tip of his tongue to rattle off his home address, but he changed his mind at the last moment and went with Serve. Things were already confused enough without taking her home with him. At the club, they would be able to retain at least the semblance that this was because of the arrangement and not because he wanted her so badly he was tempted to make a move right there in the cab.

He managed to control himself until they reached their destination. He kept a hold of her hand as they made their way to the elevator and up to the second floor. There, he paused, reality intruding.

Public sex wasn’t discouraged by any means, but it wasn’t something he indulged in. Ever. But taking one of the private rooms almost defeated the purpose of coming here in the first place. He was losing control. He hadn’t had it since their food arrived, and the fact he’d almost taken her against a damn wall was clear evidence that he needed to put on the brakes—and quickly.

So he let go of Penelope’s hand and took a step back. “Strip.”

She blinked. “What?” When he waited, she shook her head as if stepping out of a daze. “Ah, right. Yes, Sir.” She put an ironic edge on the last word, as if she knew exactly what he was doing.

It unsettled him, even as he told himself that it was fully within his right to guide things to his satisfaction. He folded his arms over his chest and watched her slip out of her dress. Once again, she wore nothing underneath. If the public nudity bothered her, she gave no sign, and he battled down the strange urge to cover her up. It didn’t make the least bit of sense, especially considering he’d never had a problem with other submissives being stripped in the main play rooms before. “Your collar?”

She pulled it out of her purse, and warmth kindled in his chest at the knowledge that she carried it with her. It was par for the course, but it still pleased a deep, secret part of him. The same part that wanted his marks across her skin and to fuck her until her entire world narrowed to him and only him. Irrational. Insane. Definitely dangerous. But he couldn’t kill those urges any more than he could end this arrangement before the seven days were up.

He stepped around her and buckled the wide collar around her throat, a part of him instantly settling at the sight of it there. This collar marked her as his, at least as far as the patrons of Serve were concerned. No one else would touch her without his permission.

One of the three St. Andrew’s Crosses was empty, and that’s where he led her. “Stay here.” Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and headed for the lockers down the hall. He always kept a bag of toys there, and tonight he was going to need most of them to get himself under control.

He did his best to ignore the small voice whispering that it wouldn’t be enough.

…

Penelope kept her gaze on the floor, half-worried that she’d mistakenly make eye contact with someone and have to find a hole in the ground to crawl into. They wouldn’t approach, though—the collar around her neck assured of that. The fact didn’t help the embarrassment climbing up her chest and neck at being left without a stitch of clothing between her and the rest of the room.

Where was Will? Surely he wouldn’t make her stand here for hours? She’d seen it done before—there were as many different ways to play BDSM power games as there were people to play them.

She was so busy resigning herself to spending most of the night waiting for him that she jumped half out of her skin when he appeared at her shoulder. “God, sugar, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” The hard look on his face nearly sent her to her knees, and she had to fight not trip all over herself to apologize.

“Spread your legs.”

It took her a few seconds to obey, because she was still trying to process the change in him. Dinner may have been a little awkward, but that kiss afterward had set her afire. To go from that back to Ice King was extremely jarring.

A little sliver of betrayal cut through her, but she did her best to banish it. The evening they’d just passed was the exception, not the rule.
This
was Will, from the hard set of his mouth to the non-expression in his eyes. The man she’d just ate with and enjoyed teasing was the phantom. She simply had to remember that and keep her guard up until their time was done. Really, she should thank him for not lulling her into a false sense of security after dinner.

Easier said than done.

He knelt before her, and her traitorous body perked up in anticipation. She could still feel his tongue between her legs, driving her to orgasm. But apparently that wasn’t on the books tonight.

Penelope stared as he pulled a dildo out of his bag.
What in God’s name is he planning?
He didn’t look up at her as he smeared a dollop of lube onto it, taking her obedience as a matter of course. She bit her lip, trying to decide if she should protest. “Will?”

He still didn’t look up. “Do you want to use your safe word?”

No, but she’d like a little reassurance. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she closed her eyes. Somewhere in the course of the evening, she’d started expecting him to treat her as if she really mattered to him. Stupid. Whatever little slice of peace they’d carved out earlier, there was a line in the sand that they still stood on opposite sides of. And they always would. She had to remember that, no matter what else she gave him, she couldn’t give him her heart.

He’d crush it without a second thought.

She took a deep breath. “No, Sir.”

“Good.” He slid the dildo into her in one smooth move, filling her nearly as completely as his cock did. She shifted, but went still when he shot her a look. “Hold still.” Next came the straps, sliding up her legs and hooking around her waist, holding it inside her. Ignoring his look, she rolled her hips, trying to get comfortable. That’s when the buzzing started.
A vibrator?

Will stood and turned her around to face the St. Andrew’s cross. She hesitated, but then raised her wrists to press against the upper arms. The wood was rough against her bare skin, a direct contrast to the delicious sparks already starting to spread through her body because of the vibrator. That conflicted feeling only got more pronounced as he cuffed her wrists in place and then did the same with her ankles, leaving her splayed for anyone to see.

She rolled her hips again, and she could have sworn she heard Will curse. Maybe he wasn’t as unaffected as he acted? Testing him, she did it again. Oh, yes, he was definitely affected.

He stepped closer, pressing himself against her back much the same way he’d done in her office. “I’m feeling generous, pet. I’m willing to allow you to choose the instrument.”

A little shiver worked its way through her. She hated that shiver. She didn’t want to be so influenced by him when he stood there behind his mask. So she reached for the attitude to give her some necessary distance. “This is what you call generous?”

“The crop, the paddle, or the flogger?”

He gave her nothing. It made her want to curse and holler until he gave some kind of reaction. “Why not all three?” She regretted her words the second they were out of her mouth.

“Very well.”

Oh shit.

He lifted her hair and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, his tongue playing along the sensitive skin until her knees buckled. “Trust me, pet.”

Easier said than done. She’d been around the block enough times to know that it was the Dom’s job to push boundaries, and she’d delighted in doing exactly that with the subs she played with. She didn’t imagine Will was any different. But she wasn’t a true masochist—or as experienced as the subs he seemed to play with regularly. He knew that. Surely he wouldn’t take things too far?

“Breathe, Penelope.”

The shock of hearing her name out of his mouth steadied her a little. She had her safe word, though she’d never heard of a sub using one with him. He asked for her trust and she’d do her best to give it. She let out a shuddering exhale.

“There.” He ran a hand down her spine. “Keep breathing. Tell me your safe word.”

“Dracula.” It was barely more than a whisper, but he heard her.

“Good girl.” He checked her cuffs one last time and stepped back. “We’ll start with the flogger.”

Chapter Eight

Will swung the flogger, warming up his wrist, watching Penelope tense at the whistle of the flails through the air. It wasn’t as pleasing a sound as the cane, but it was still one of his favorite toys. He’d purposefully picked a lighter variety, since he’d never used one on her before. Typically he played with the harsher end of the pain spectrum. Canes were his favorite, but…

Not tonight. Perhaps not ever with her. Canes went well beyond the medium pain scale that she’d said she was comfortable with. It was something that he’d be willing to explore with a long-term sub—helping them find out where their limits really stood—but seven days wasn’t nearly enough time to go there.

And seven days was all he had.

Damn it. He was supposed to be getting them back onto solid ground—not thinking about what something past a week would look like. Will swung the flogger again, watching the way her back tensed. She didn’t know where the blow would hit, only that it would fall, but she wasn’t panicking or showing any true signs of distress.

Good.

He flicked the flogger out, giving it a little snap. She jerked as it hit her shoulder, but no sound escaped. Not that he expected anything else. The woman was nothing if not strong. Will kept the blows raining down on her, starting on her right shoulder and moving to her left, working down her back. Halfway through she started begging, begging him to stop, to keep going, to never touch her again.

It was only when she sagged into her bonds that he set the flogger aside and picked up the paddle. He was careful with the first swat, because she might still be tender from the other night. On the third smack, the breath sobbed from her chest, and her entire body shook
. Will frowned. She should be out of her mind with pleasure. Had he misjudged her? He stepped closer. “Penelope?”

“Dracula.” The word was so faint, he had half a second to think he’d misheard. Horror replaced desire, and he rushed to get her out of her bonds.
I took it too far
. “I’m sorry, pet. Fuck, I’m so sorry.” How had he missed the signs? She’d been fine. He could have sworn she was right there with him.
Goddamn it
. It was his job to keep the scene from dancing too close to the edge, and he’d botched it.

He supported her as he unbuckled the strap around her waist and dropped the vibrator to the floor. Will swept her into his arms. She whimpered a little, and he felt like the worst kind of monster. He slipped into an empty private room and nudged the door shut with his foot.

This one was set up nearly identical to the one they’d used the other day, so he moved to the couch and pulled a blanket from the chest in front of it. Penelope’s shivers stopped a few moments after he wrapped the blanket around her, but she kept her face pressed against his chest and clung to him. He set his chin on the top of her head and waited, letting the fact sink in that it was over and she was safe. It had been a long time since he’d made such a misstep, and the fact he did it with
her
made things that much worse.

Because he knew exactly why it had happened.

He’d been so caught up in pushing them both away from what he considered dangerous ground that he’d swung them too far in the other direction. She’d trusted him and he’d abused that trust, intentionally or not. “I’m sorry.”

She took a breath and looked up, but he didn’t let her speak yet. Will placed a single finger against her lips. “Don’t say it’s okay, because it’s not yet. It will be, but you’re still in a place you shouldn’t be because I screwed up. So know I’m sorry, and that I’ll make it right.”

“You always were a know-it-all.” Her smile wasn’t as bright or sharp as normal.

“It’s a sickness.”

She laid her head back against his shoulder. “Look at you, making jokes again.”

“It’s one of my best kept secrets.” Though he could count on one hand how many people thought he had a sense of humor and still have fingers left over.

“Obviously.” She sighed and sat up. “I’m okay. More or less. I don’t know what happened.”

“I pushed too hard.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t read your distress until it was too late.”

“I…”

He needed to know exactly where things went wrong so he’d never make the same mistake again. He
refused
to make the same mistake again. “I knew you were mouthing off when you said you wanted all three, but from our previous conversations, I’d thought we were well within your boundaries.”

She ducked so he couldn’t see her face. “I did, too. It was just… I was fine and then…”

He held her close, as much for his comfort as for hers. “I won’t let it happen again.”

She lifted her head and rolled her eyes, some of the spunk he liked so much reappearing. “You mean the godlike Will Reaver actually makes mistakes? The world must be ending!” He wasn’t sure what his face showed, but she laughed. The sound wasn’t as carefree as he’d have liked, but it was a move in the right direction. “Surely this isn’t the first time you’ve messed up, sugar?”

“You’d be surprised.”

…

Penelope frowned, the last niggling fear slipping away. “You can’t be serious. Everyone makes mistakes.” Even she had botched a scene once or twice with a new sub.

“I don’t.” He kept touching her, as if to reassure himself that he hadn’t done permanent damage. She could have told him he hadn’t. Yes, she’d been frightened to the point where the strength of her reaction surprised even her, but she wasn’t hurt. Not really. It was as much her fault as his that they were in this place. She should have warned him that she was dancing close to the edge of her comfort level and beyond, but she’d gritted her teeth and been determined to ride it out. Idiot.

But then, she wasn’t laboring under the impression that she never made a misstep, either. “That’s impossible.”

“Not when I’m firmly in control.” He looked away. “I’ve had…issues…this week.”

Issues maintaining control? It appeared they were more in the same boat than she could have dreamed. She licked her lips, debating. She could come clean now and tell him that she was on an edge just as rickety as his. Or she could let him twist in the wind.

It wouldn’t make much difference in the long run, though—she and Will had an expiration date no matter which way she looked at things. But at least in telling him, she wouldn’t feel so vulnerable.

Or maybe she was just fooling herself.

Even knowing that, she couldn’t let this stand without some sort of reaching out. It would hurt him to do so. The thought should make her happy, but it only left her cold. She twisted the edge of the blanket. “I didn’t expect the level of my reactions.”

This was it. This was the moment when he’d take her confession and use it against her. Maybe it would be a sharp comment designed to make her shrink in upon herself. Or maybe he’d simply torment her for the next four days with the knowledge that she loved what he did to her.

It doesn’t matter. I can get through it.

“I didn’t, either,” he said. “It’s not a comfortable feeling.” He stroked a hand down her back, so lightly she barely felt it. “I value my control above all else. I
can’t
let go of it.”

She shifted, trying to get a better view of his face. “Everyone loses control sometimes.” Just like everyone made mistakes. She seemed to be doing both more and more often these days. She wanted to do whatever it took to wipe that tortured look off his face, and that desire was dangerous in ways she couldn’t begin to contemplate. Fall for Will? Only if she wanted a broken heart and Carson & Associates hurt in the fallout.

But she didn’t get up and walk away, even though she knew she should reverse the shrinking emotional distance between them. “I know we haven’t exactly been best friends up to this point but…you can talk to me.”

He leaned back, taking her with him, and tucked her against his chest so she couldn’t see his face. “It is imperative to maintain control in all things. If you don’t…” He exhaled harshly. “I watched what can happen to a man when the world around him falls apart because he didn’t hold onto things tightly enough, because he gave up control in every way that counts. I refuse to allow that to happen to me.”

Who? She sat there, thinking. The pieces clicked together with a snap—the fact he refused to talk about his mother. She’d wondered if his mother had died, and maybe that was exactly what had happened. As someone with similar issues, she could see how someone would crave control to battle those types of demons. Wasn’t her father’s way of dealing with her mother—by almost letting Carson & Associates tank—enough to scare her into promising herself she’d never let that happen to
her?
“When did she die?”

His body was so tense, it was a wonder it didn’t break apart into a million pieces. “She’s still among the living for all I know. I haven’t seen or heard from the woman in nearly ten years.”

Not dead, then
. Penelope closed her eyes and wrapped her arms more firmly around him. “What happened?”

For a long moment, she didn’t think he’d tell her. “To this day, I’m not exactly sure. It was as if our life was good one day and everyone was happy, and the next she said she wasn’t happy—hadn’t been for a while. And then she was gone.” A shudder worked its way through his body. “It destroyed my father, turned him into a stranger. He let her get close, and when she left, she took part of him with her.”

Left. She let that truth settle over her. What kind of woman walked away from her children and never looked back? Penelope might have issues with her mother—a huge understatement—but she’d never doubted that she was loved. Understand her? Not in the least. But she cared in her own way. She couldn’t imagine what her life would have been like if her mother just washed her hands of the whole thing as soon as her marriage to Dad was over. Or, worse,
before
it was.

Anger rose, slow and steady with each beat of her heart. How dare that woman hurt her children like this? Some things were supposed to be sacred in this world, and
that
was one of them. Will had spent the last ten years trying to control every aspect of his life because of what happened with his mother. It made her want to kick something.

Instead, she shifted to straddle him and rose until they were eye level. God, he looked wrecked, his Ice King mask long gone, his blue eyes holding a decade’s worth of sorrow. Had he ever let it out? Even as she thought the question, she knew the answer. Of course not. She’d bet that he’d woken up the morning after his mother left and decided that he was going to keep control of himself and his emotions to avoid ending up hurt like his father—and then he never stopped.

She might not be a doctor of any nature, but even she knew that a soul wound could fester the same as a physical wound. Penelope cupped his face with her hands. When he didn’t tell her to stop, she stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to listen to me. Are you listening?”

His mouth quirked up. “I’m not one of your subs.”

Maybe not, but it wasn’t her dominant streak demanding its due now. No, it was a fierce protectiveness rising up inside her, making her want to obliterate this one memory that had been driving him for so long. It wasn’t possible, even if he was willing. But maybe she could help. “Your mother was a damn fool. When something is broken, you fix it. You don’t up and declare yourself unhappy and then walk away.” Even if her mother had done something similar, though to a lesser degree. They weren’t talking about her issues right now. “Only a coward runs when they should fight, and that’s exactly what she is. You deserved better than that.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were feeling protective of me.” His hands coasted up from her knees to her hips. “You don’t have to. I’m not that teenager anymore. I’m past it.”

No, he wasn’t, but you had to deal with things in order to get past them. “Some things you can’t just shake off through sheer force of will.”

“Then you don’t know me very well, pet.” He continued his upward movement, pushing the blanket off her shoulders. She considered arguing further, but she wouldn’t get any more out of him tonight. The fact that he’d admitted anything at all was victory enough.

Penelope rocked back a little, her thoughts tangled and racing. When had she decided that she wanted to get beneath his exteriors? Just a few hours ago, she’d been sure that she wanted to keep as much distance between them as possible—keep things sexual only. But she couldn’t fight the need to smooth that look off his face any more than she could fight the desire to run her fingers along his jaw.

She tried to maintain her reason as he palmed her breasts, and studied his face. She was still a sub to him—one with an expiration date. Which was a good thing. No matter what a mess her emotions had become when it came to this man, she couldn’t afford anything longer than this week. He was too dominant, too distracting, just
too much
.

Tonight, she could do.

And tonight was about doing what she could to help him. She couldn’t let him walk out of this room still dealing with this old hurt. He might never talk about it again.

But how to do it?

Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew. The greatest gift she could give him was submitting completely without a battle. She’d fought long and hard to keep part of herself out of his reach, and that might be the very thing she needed to comfort him in the only way he’d accept.

She framed his face in her hands, her heart aching at the pain naked on his face. “Command me, Sir. Take me any way you want me.”