Bound to be Dirty (20 page)

“Your gran wanted to reduce those for you. You haven't touched the money in years, have you?”

“Not since I paid for my medical education.” She'd been so grateful for her grandmother's money. It had meant she didn't have to choose between the undesirable options of student loans or parental support. “I set up that trust, with the interest going to children's charities, but I haven't touched the principal.”

“Why don't you put some of it into the clinic? Hire another couple of doctors, a manager. Lighten your load.”

“A manager? Dax, I'm responsible. I can't pass that off on someone else. And I can't subsidize the Well Family Clinic. It needs to be self-sufficient.”

He paused then said quietly, “Why? Because you have to always be in control, and you're trying to impress your parents?”

Her mouth fell open. “I can't believe you said that! You know how important the clinic is to me.”

Dax studied her for a long moment. “I do know that. And I told myself I'd leave this subject alone because it's another hot button. But Lily, it's stressing you out, taking over your life. Why are you letting it do that?”

Because hiring a manager would be a confession that she couldn't handle things herself. She was
responsible
, not a control freak. Besides, she
could
handle this; she'd figure things out. The crucial thing was that patient care wasn't suffering. “It's just a tough period right now.”

“What's going to change?”

“I'll work it out.”

He sighed. “What's the part you most enjoy? Dealing with patients, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Hire a manager to do the other stuff.”

The man who'd cut his family out of his life had given her advice on dealing with her parents, and now the guy who'd admitted to avoiding admin tasks was trying to tell her how to run a medical clinic. She swallowed a knot of anger. “I don't tell you how to run your business.”

“Right.” His eyes were gray steel. “Parallel courses, all the way.”

She took a breath. If they carried on like this, those parallel courses would split wide apart and never touch again. Deliberately, she softened her tone. “Remember how I suggested that we start back at the beginning? Perhaps tackling our current issues is . . .”

“Beyond us at this point? Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Fighting will only drive us apart.” If they were going to recapture love and fix their marriage, she sensed it had to happen in slow, gentle steps.

Dax sighed. “Yeah.” He rose and tended the fire, then went through the stack of CDs.

When the music started, she cocked her head. “Who is that?”

“Tony Bennett. I thought your gran might like him.”

The gesture eased tension from her body. “I bet she danced to him more than once.”

When Dax returned to the rug, Lily lifted her glass toward him. “To Gran.”

He picked up his own glass and clicked it against hers. “To Gran.”

They both had a drink then he said, “D'you think you're doing what she wanted you to with the money?”

Hoping he wasn't going to hassle her again, she said cautiously, “I hope so. One day maybe I'll see a reason to use it.” Perhaps she'd spend some on her children, though she didn't want to spoil them.

“Wouldn't hurt you to do something frivolous every now and then.”

“Frivolous?” Now there was a word no one ever applied to her. “Frivolous?” It felt light and fluffy on her tongue, kind of fizzy and fun like the champagne they were drinking.

“You're grinning.” His eyes were warm and affectionate.

“I am? I wouldn't know how to be frivolous.”

“You'll figure it out. Those book club friends could help. After all, they got you to a rodeo.”

“You're right, I bet they could.” She studied his face, the strong angles and planes, the reflection of firelight dancing in his eyes. “How about you, Dax? Could you help?”

“Uh . . . Guess I'm not known for being all that frivolous myself.”

“No, not now. But think back. Remember borrowing a canoe at midnight and following the path of the full moon? Stealing a bunch of Mrs. B's flowers to give me, knowing she'd blame the deer? Whittling me a loon out of a piece of driftwood?” She paused. “Okay, maybe more romantic than frivolous. But fun, lighthearted things.”

“Guess I haven't felt all that lighthearted in a while.”

The words settled between them and neither spoke for a moment. Then he went on. “The past couple of years we've both spent most of our time working. Not, you know . . .”

“Stopping to smell the roses?”

“Or to steal them from someone's garden.”

“I admit, I miss your bad-boy side.”

“What? I tried so hard to grow up and be responsible. That's the kind of man you deserved.”

“And I respected you for that, and you grew into a strong, brave, amazing man. But I do miss that daredevil bad-boy edge.” She admitted, “I guess that's something I liked about the, uh, sex games.”

“I'm taking notes here,” he joked. “Bad boys tie women up, slap their butts, melt ice cubes on their bodies. What else?”

Happy that the mood had lightened, she said, “I'll leave that to your imagination, Dax. I think you're up for the challenge.”

When he rose to deal with the fire again, she said, “Finished eating? I should put this stuff back in the fridge.”

“Yeah, I'm good, thanks.”

Creaky after sitting for so long, Lily stretched and picked up the tray of leftovers. In the kitchen, she nudged an empty shopping bag aside to clear space for the tray. Under the bag, she found several envelopes addressed to her and Dax. “You picked up the mail?” she called.

“Yeah, I grabbed it as I was leaving.”

She shuffled through. A property tax bill, a charity looking for donations, a card-shaped envelope addressed to her and Dax from a cousin in England who she barely knew. A slightly larger envelope addressed to Dax, from CanTimber, the logging company he worked for before taking the job at the mining camp.

When he came into the kitchen with the empty champagne bottle and glasses, she said, “You got mail from CanTimber.”

“Oh?” He took it, opened it, and an envelope fell out.

She glanced over, to see that it was addressed to Dax Xavier c/o CanTimber, with “Please Forward” written on it. In the top left corner was written “Jillian Sams” and an address in Prince Rupert.

“Who's Jillian Sams?”

Twenty

J
illian Sams. The name rang a faint bell for Dax. “I'm not sure.”

He opened the envelope and pulled out a family photo card showing a man, woman, three children ranging from perhaps ten to sixteen, and an Old English Sheepdog. They were all beaming, even the dog.

Recognizing them, the picture made him smile too. So did the message written inside.

Dear Mr. Xavier,

It's because of you that my family will have a Merry Christmas. We are eternally grateful for your bravery. If there's ever anything that any of us can do for you, you only need ask.

I'm all healed now, as good as new. I look at life with a fresh perspective, and treasure every moment. It's amazing how things can change in the space of a heartbeat. I will never again take my life and my family for granted. And we'll never do something so stupid again.

I will also do my best to follow your example, and to help others in need whenever I can. Though, I'm afraid, never with the same amount of courage you showed when you rescued me.

I wish you and your loved ones all the best for the holiday season and the new year.

Forever in your debt,

Jillian Sams

Oh yeah, sometimes life was good.

“Who's it from?” Lily asked.

“A woman I helped this year.”

“May I?” She held out her hand for the card.

“It's not a big deal.” He wasn't sure why he was reluctant to pass it over.

“Then show it to me.” She took it from him and read the message. “Wow. That's amazing.”

“It's really not a big deal,” Dax repeated, putting leftovers into the fridge.

“What happened?” She touched his arm, stopping him.

He turned to her. “They were on a wilderness hiking-camping trip. Inexperienced, hadn't checked the long-range forecast. It was sunny when they set out, and they assumed it would last. Anyhow, on the second day, a storm came up, quickly. Lightning and thunder. The dog spooked and ran away and the youngest boy ran after it. The parents told the other kids to stay in the tent, and went to look for the boy and dog. They didn't stop to grab jackets, water, or cell phones. The mom slipped in the mud and fell off the edge of a cliff into a small canyon between two sets of hills. She tumbled down quite a drop, broke an arm and a leg, knocked herself out. The dad couldn't get down to her, the storm was getting worse, he still had a lost kid and dog.”

“My God. The poor guy must have been out of his mind with worry.”

“He rushed back to their camp and found that the boy and dog had returned. Fortunately, they had marginal cell service, so he called nine-one-one. The dispatcher contacted the RCMP, search and rescue, everyone who might be able to help. It would've taken quite a while to reach her from the ground, especially with the storm. No way could a small plane get in and land, but it seemed possible a helicopter could. I had my name on a list of volunteers to do aerial search and rescue, and I was close by.”

Her grip tightened on his forearm. “You flew in the middle of a storm?”

He shrugged. “She was out there unconscious; no one knew how badly she was hurt. The sat photos indicated the storm wouldn't let up for twenty-four hours or more. I've flown in worse conditions.” He gave a terse grin. “At least no one was shooting at me.”

“I wish you wouldn't take that kind of risk.” Concern creased her forehead.

In the past, he hadn't shared these kinds of stories with her, so as not to worry her. But now he realized that sometimes he had to share with her, if those parallel courses were ever going to touch. Wanting her to understand, he took her hands. “Lily, she mightn't have made it. She had a life, a husband, kids. She didn't deserve to lose that.”

She bit her lip.

“I'm not crazy.” He flashed her a grin. “I just happen to be an excellent pilot.”

“I know. That's the only reason I survived when you were deployed in Afghanistan.” She squeezed his hands. “I understand why you did it. I'm proud of you.”

She'd said those words only a few times before, like when he graduated from college, and they carried weight. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“When you first started bush flying, you said you were flying people and supplies back and forth, transferring logs and equipment, that kind of thing. Now I've learned you fly into accident sites. What else? I want to know what's involved in your work.”

“Well, when there's a forest fire, I've dropped firefighters and evacuated people who were in danger. Picked fishermen up from a rough sea when their boat went down. Done helivac off the deck of a tanker.”

“Helivac? But there are special helicopter services that are equipped for medevac work.”

“But they're not always close enough to help.”

“I'd like to hear more stories. Though I admit, you're scaring me a little.”

“I'm careful.”

“I almost believe you.” Still, a worry wrinkle creased her forehead.

“If we spent more time together, we could share more stories. I'd like to hear about your work too. You used to talk about some of your patients, but you haven't in awhile.”

“The kind of things normal people talk about at the end of each work day.”

“I guess.” Their lives had never been like that, but it sounded appealing. If only Lily loved the bush and would consider living somewhere out in the wilds. And that was just as likely as him wanting a desk job. But that didn't mean they couldn't have more time together, and make the most of it. He looped his arms around her neck and dropped his head so his forehead touched hers. “It's late. Time for bed.”

“I won't say no.”

“You go on up. I'll finish here and bring in wood for the morning.”

When she'd gone, he put on his boots and jacket then headed out into the chill night. Before going to the woodpile, he stopped to stare up at the crystal-clear stars scattered across an indigo sky. No city lights; no haze of pollution. He breathed deeply, feeling peace sink into his soul.

His world. If only Lily wanted to share it . . .

He shook his head. Earlier, she'd said that everyone had unfulfilled dreams. He had to accept that fact, and let this dream go.

Twenty-one

I
n the unfamiliar bathroom, Lily swallowed the birth control pill that had come to symbolize so much: the future she longed for, and the problems that stood in the way.

Her heart was still bruised and wary—she wasn't ready to let herself fall in love with Dax all over again—but she felt closer to him than she had in years. The honest communication, even if sometimes painful, was essential if they had any hope of resolving their issues. Some great sex wouldn't hurt either.

After stripping, she put the butterfly top back on, her breasts clearly visible through the sheer fabric. When she climbed into bed, she piled pillows behind her back and pulled the covers to her waist, no higher. From downstairs, she heard doors open and close, thumps and thuds. Such a simple thing, lying in bed hearing Dax and knowing he'd soon join her, and very pleasant.

With her glasses perched on her nose, she resumed
Bound by Desire
where she'd left off. Neville and Cassandra had negotiated the terms of their arrangement and were going out together.

At the door to his luxury suite, Cassandra nervously clutched the front of her short trench coat, painfully aware that beneath it she wore only a red leather bra and panties, both with cutouts that left nothing to the imagination. “Where are we going?”

Neville had been about to open the door, but stopped and turned to her. He didn't say a word, but his raised eyebrows and cool expression spoke volumes.

She hated it when he looked at her with such displeasure. “I'm sorry, master.”

He brushed his fingers over the collar that circled her neck. “I am your master. What does that mean?”

“I obey without question.”

“And?”

“I must trust you to know what's best for me.”

“More than that, pet. I
own
you. I own that lovely body. It is mine to do with as I please. Do you understand?”

Everything he'd done so far had pleased her. Even the things that initially scared her, or the ones that hurt, ultimately brought her a pleasure more intense than she'd ever imagined. “I understand, master.”

“If I choose to display you to other men, I will do it.”

A thrill rippled through her. He found her lovely; he wanted other men to be envious. Having strangers lust after her—yes, that turned her on. “Yes, master.”

“If I choose to fuck you in front of them, I will.”

“Oh yes, master!” It was unbearably erotic to think of being watched as they fucked.

“If I choose to stick a ball gag in your mouth, paddle you until your ass cheeks are on fire, then fuck your ass while they watch, I will do it.”

Paddling hurt like hell but it also aroused her. Anal sex aroused her. But a ball gag? And doing all those things in front of other people? How could she speak her safe word while gagged? Still, she trusted him, and if these things pleased him, she'd do them. “Yes, master.”

“If I choose to give you to other men, to have you suck their dicks, to let them beat you and fuck your cunt and your ass, I
will
do it.”

The leash jerked again and she realized she'd been shaking her head. Yes, when they'd negotiated their arrangement, he'd given her a list of activities and she'd said she was fine with them. Now, hearing his implacable voice, she knew she wanted only Neville. She wanted him to want her, not to give her to other men.

“I own you, pet,” he said again. “I know what you need, better than you know it yourself.” His jade eyes cool and commanding, he went on. “You came to me because you wanted to find out your true nature. Tonight, it's time to stop being a coward and find the strength to accept the truth: you are a submissive.”

Was she? Neville had done things to her that she'd have thought would appall her, yet they'd aroused her intensely. He did seem to know her sexuality better than she did.

“We are going to a club,” he said. “Top and Bottom. It's a BDSM club. You will be under my total control. If you misbehave, you will embarrass me in front of other doms. If that happens, I will punish you. Severely.”

Of course she didn't want to embarrass Neville. She wanted, more than anything, to make him happy. But if he asked her to take some strange man's cock in her mouth, or let some other dom fuck her ass, with an audience watching her humiliation . . .

“You can say your safe word now, Cassandra, and go back to your own room.”

If she did that, she knew he'd give up on her. He'd given her a second chance, but there wouldn't be a third. Their relationship would be over. The incredible sex that walked the tightrope of pleasure and pain, weaving back and forth from side to side. The sense of being cherished and protected. Of having the security of rules. Of having Neville.

She gazed into his eyes. Perhaps he really did own her. Perhaps that was a good thing. She ducked her head in a submissive gesture and kept quiet.

“Very good, pet.” He stroked her face, her neck. Traced the vee at the neck of her trench coat.

She pressed against him, trembling at the approving caress.

He reached inside her coat, located one of her aroused nipples as it poked out of the heart-shaped cutout of her red leather bra. “Mine.” And he tweaked it. Hard.

She winced as pain lanced through her, but when he finally released his grip, tingly heat spread from the spot, a delicious wave of it, and moisture coated her inner thighs. “Yes, master. Yours.”

Dax stepped through the bedroom doorway. “Look at you, Lily. Those prim and proper glasses and that see-through shirt. Talk about sexy.”

She put her Kindle on the bedside table and enjoyed the view as he pulled his tee over his head. “Could you imagine giving me to another man to screw?”

“Jesus, no!” Then, warily, “You don't want that, do you?”

“God, no. What about making love in public?”

He paused in the act of unzipping his jeans and cocked his head. “How public?”

Intrigued that he hadn't given a flat-out no, she said, “You tell me.”

“Well, not at some sex club like in the book.” He shoved down his jeans and underwear, and stepped out of them. “But if we were someplace semiprivate and someone happened to see us, that could be a turn-on.”

His naked body as he moved unself-consciously around the room was a turn-on. And an inspiration. A scenario popped into her mind. “Like if we were having that picnic in a remote alpine meadow, naked in the sunshine, making love in the grass.”

“I like that picture.”

“If a hiker came past and saw us, I guess that could be kind of titillating.”

“Sounds sexy to me. Or,” he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes gleaming and his cock stirring, “if we didn't pull the blinds and someone had a telescope.”

“Dax!” She remembered the blindfold and ice cubes Sunday night. “You don't think . . .”

He winked and ran a finger along the neckline of her blouse. “Probably not.”

“I hope not,” she said firmly. “That's our home. But, hmm, maybe a hotel room . . .” The idea, and the sight of his arousal, made her pussy throb.

“Oh, yeah. We'll strip each other in front of a big hotel window.” His fingers drifted down the front of her blouse then he ran his thumb across her tightening nipple. “I'll hike you up in my arms and we'll go at it right there, never knowing if someone's watching.”

“I'm not sure I'm brave enough for that,” she admitted.

“Hey, you're supposed to do whatever your master commands,” he teased.

“Yeah, right.” Then she frowned. “Neville says he owns her. You don't think you own me, do you?”

“Jesus, no.” He dropped his hand and stared at her. “And you don't own me. We're spouses, not owner and pet.”

“Or slave. Ownership makes me think of slaves.”

A gleam lit his eyes and he tweaked her nipple. “My very own sex slave? Hmm, maybe I was too hasty . . .”

“If you get a sex slave, so do I.”

“Seems fair. Want first turn? I'm here to serve you”—he winked—“mistress.”

What did she want from her sexy husband? Maybe she was too tired, or not very imaginative, but nothing particularly kinky came to mind. What she craved was the opposite of everything Neville had proposed. Sweet and gentle, not rough and painful. Well, she was the mistress, so why shouldn't she get it? “Turn out the light, climb into bed, and spoon me from behind. As if we were ready to fall asleep.”

A few seconds later, the front of his hard body met the curve of her back and his arm reached around to hug her to him. The press of his thick, hot penis against her butt made her sex tighten and pulse in needy response.

“Slave,” she said, “you've done a passable job of serving my needs today.”

His body shook in a silent chuckle. “Thank you, mistress.”

“So I'll take it easy on you. I require only one orgasm, but you must give it to me in this position and you must do it slowly and gently.” She raised her arms to curl around the end of her pillow.

“Your wish is my command.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder then parted her legs and slipped his erection between them. He didn't attempt to enter her, just slid back and forth against her swelling labia.

Moisture slipped from her body, coating him as he moved. Arousal tightened inside her, urging her to press harder against him, to shift so he brushed her clit. Normally, she'd have done exactly that. But she'd made Dax responsible for her pleasure, and wanted to see what he'd do.

His big hand caressed the front of her body, starting at her shoulder, brushing over her breast, fanning out over her tummy with a couple of fingers brushing her neatly trimmed pubic hair. But he didn't linger there, nor go back to her nipple. He repeated the long, slow stroke from shoulder on down, and all the time his hips pumped just enough to keep his cock sliding back and forth.

Each inch that his hand touched pricked to awareness, craving more. The same thing happened between her legs. She was desperate to feel him inside her.

Perhaps he sensed it, because he separated their bodies beneath the covering of sheet and duvet, and reached between her legs. He caressed her slick folds and separated them. The head of his penis nudged her, then he entered her so very slowly.

They both adjusted their positions to improve the angle, increase the friction, but other than that, Lily tried to hold still.

The room was almost completely dark. Only a tiny amount of light from the starlit sky seeped around the edge of the curtains. In this near-black cocoon, nothing existed in the world except the two of them.

Dax pumped, in the same slow, small movements he'd used before. He ran a finger around her taut nipple, flicked it with his thumb, squeezed it gently, then harder. Harder again, in a touch that was not yet pain but getting close, creating darts of intense pleasure that wrung whimpers from her.

Because the movements of his fingers and his penis were so small and slow, they drew her focus. Nipple and pussy, it was like her body consisted of only those two things, both of them tingling with arousal, radiating erotic heat to spread through her body. The need to come grew, making her squeeze her thighs together and push back against his thrusts.

Dax kissed her hair then released her nipple and stroked down the front of her body. His fingers drifted through her pubic hair, then lower, and his thumb brushed her clit.

“Oh yes,” she whispered. She didn't need clitoral stimulation to climax, but she sure did enjoy it, as Dax well knew.

He circled and flicked, squeezed gently. With her nipple, he'd kept up the relentless teasing, increasing the pressure, but this time his fingers drifted away before the exquisite tension could build too high and tip into climax.

She moaned in frustration. “More, please.”

“Mistress?” His warm breath brushed her ear. “Permission to speak?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“You requested slowly and gently. I've been doing my best to obey.”

“Fine, but now I want to come. Make me come, D—” She broke off before speaking his name. If he could keep up the game, so could she. “Slave, make me come now.”

His thumb rubbed her clit, his strokes increasing in force and speed. Oh yes, she was close, so close, panting with need, squeezing around him. And then her body clutched—“Yes!”—and she climaxed in delicious spasms around him.

He slowed his strokes as her body pulsed with aftershocks. Then, when she expected him to pump again, to seek his own climax, he pulled out of her.

“What?” she cried. “What are you doing? You didn't come.”

“You didn't give me permission to.”

Now that was taking the game too far. “Then I give you permission now, slave. As your reward.”

She expected him to slip back between her legs but instead he pushed himself up, thrusting the covers off their bodies. He caught her by the hip and rolled her onto her back. Her knees automatically came up, she spread her legs, and her inner thighs felt the brush of his legs when he kneeled between them. He reached under her to grasp her by the butt cheeks and lifted her lower body off the bed. She hooked her heels over his shoulders as he thrust deep inside her.

A cry of pleasure escaped her.

He held her almost immobile as he stroked into her in long, smooth, hard thrusts. There was something so primal and male about his actions. She couldn't touch him, couldn't pump her own hips. She was powerless to do anything but accept his thrusts. And respond. Fresh moisture slipped from her body, slicking his shaft, and she moaned as arousal mounted inside her again, and crested.

Dax gave a rough cry and his cock jerked, triggering her climax as hot gushes of come pulsed into her.