Bound to be Dirty (3 page)

Turning away from the cityscape, he started to read Lily's book. Normally, he chose outdoor stories or thrillers, either real life or fiction.
Bound by Desire
didn't exactly hook him. A woman who was tired after a stressful business trip checked into a ritzy hotel, went to the bar for a drink, and flirted with a stranger, then accepted his invitation for dinner. She found him commanding and charismatic. Dax thought he was a bit of an asshole.

The building-door buzzer sounded and Dax took delivery of his dinner, put the takeout containers on the table, and found a fork. For a few minutes, he just ate, enjoying the taste of savory spices. Then he turned back to the book.

The couple ate dinner and put away two bottles of wine, flirting all the time. For dessert, he ordered a rich chocolate cake, and they shared it.

The cake was sinfully delicious, yet after only two bites, Cassandra found herself sliding the plate over to Neville. “You finish it.”

Watching the pleasure on his face as he ate it was even more enjoyable than tasting it herself. But after only a few more bites, he shoved it aside. “Come to my room.”

She gazed into his piercing black eyes. Truly, he was the most compelling, sexy, utterly masculine man she'd ever met. Decisive, powerful, charismatic. She'd always been drawn to strong men who weren't threatened by a confident, successful woman. But never had she been as attracted as she was to the man seated across from her. Her body craved him so badly her panties were soaked. And her judgment, which almost always proved reliable, told her she could trust him. “I might be persuaded,” she responded, hoping her coy comment might win one of his dazzling smiles.

Instead, his black brows rose. “Persuaded? That's not my strong point.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Cassandra, I'm a dom.”

“A what? You mean, uh, sexually? Like with BDSM?” She'd never been with a dom. The idea—okay, it titillated her, especially with a man as sexy as Neville—but it also horrified her.

“Exactly. And you're a submissive.”

She jerked back in her seat. “I certainly am not!” At work she was known as a ball-breaker; no way would she ever submit to a man.

“You're in denial.” He nodded. “Yes, I thought so. It will make tonight even more interesting.”

Glaring, she said, “If you think I'm going to let you, uh, let you . . .” What did doms do? Tie women up? Beat them?

“Let me? No, you'll beg me to.”

Damn. So much for having great sex tonight. “You're wasting your time. I'm not into that kind of thing.”

A slight smile edged his lips. “You say one thing but I can read you, Cassandra. You don't enjoy vanilla sex.”

“Well, no. I mean, it's nice, but . . .” Though she'd had sex with a dozen men in the past year, each experience had been too damned bla
nd.

“Something's missing, that you want very badly. There's no spice, no fire, no passion. You feel like you're standing outside your body, watching. You never truly connect intimately with your own body or with your partner. There's no intensity. You climax, but it's like a sneeze, a ripple. It doesn't wrench you apart and make you scream.”

She squeezed her legs together, barely able to stop herself from squirming with arousal. Yes, that was what she wanted. Intensity. “All right.” Her voice sounded husky. “I wouldn't mind spicing up my sex life. Playing a few kinky games. I thought you might be into that.”

“Playing games. That's really not my thing.” He leaned forward, and she was unable to look away from his dark gaze. “Being a dom is not a game, it's who I am. My true nature. As, I believe, being a submissive is your true nature.”

“No.” It was perverted, that kind of sex. She was a liberated woman.

“Let me show you.”

That deep voice, his compelling gaze . . . She found herself shifting her weight, as if to rise and go with him. He drew her, the way no one else ever had; something about him made her want to obey him, to please him. Struggling against an almost overwhelming urge, she said, “I can't. It's not me.”

“Then we're done here.” He took the napkin from his lap and tossed it on the table. “A pity. We'd be good together. Imagining it has kept me hard since we first sat down.”

Hard. His cock would be as strong, as powerful as the rest of him. God, how she wanted him inside her. She wanted amazing orgasms—for him as well as herself. But he was rejecting her. How could she let him walk away? “You said you would show me. I don't think that will happen. But maybe we could, uh, try one or two things? Nothing too, uh . . .”

“The relationship between a dominant and his submissive begins with a negotiation.”

That was encouraging. Sort of. At least he believed in negotiating, rather than just dictating terms. “But I'm not your submissive. Can't we negotiate something else? Some non-vanilla sex, for tonight?”

He studied her, face impassive and eyes glinting with some emotion she couldn't read. Was it annoyance? Humor? Desire? “You want to dip your toe in the deep waters of my world.”

“I guess I do. Without being in danger.”

“A sub never faces danger. Safe, sane, and consensual is the fundamental rule. And the sub has a safe word. If she speaks it, the dom stops immediately, without question.”

“Hmm. That's reassuring, but it's still way too much for me. Can't we just have some kinky sex?”

After long, silent moments of staring at her, he finally said, “What is it about you, Cassandra?”

“How do you mean?”

“With any other woman, I would have walked away. But in you, I see so much. I see things you don't let yourself acknowledge and I want to help you find your true self, your deepest pleasure. I'm drawn to you.”

Did he really mean it? “I'm drawn to you, too.” In ways she understood, for his charismatic personality and pure male sexiness, and in ways she didn't understand, like a desire to please him and win his smile.

And now that smile flashed, so dazzling that it made her catch her breath. “Then you will come to my room and dip your toe, perhaps your entire foot. And once you've done that, I believe you will want to dive from the highest diving board.”

His meal finished, Dax rinsed the takeout containers and put them in the recycling. Noticing that the kitchen faucet had a persistent drip, he got the tool kit from the back of the hall closet and replaced the washer. Then, with another beer in hand, he took Lily's Kindle to the living room and flicked on the gas fire.

His wife was a strong, independent woman like Cassandra. Had she too met a man who made her want to dip her toe in a taboo world of dominant-submissive sex? Or was it the connectedness and intensity that appealed to her? How had he and Lily lost that?

He settled in the recliner and began to read again.

When Cassandra stepped out of the bathroom, she was dressed as Neville had instructed, wearing only her thigh-high black stockings and four-inch-heel shoes. Proud of her toned, voluptuous body, the idea of flaunting it in front of him sent tingles of heat racing through her, as did the idea of a night of kinky sex games with this man.

He stood beside the king-sized bed in the bedroom of his luxurious hotel suite, watching her with a gleam in his dark eyes. He'd taken off his tie and suit jacket, undone a few buttons at the neck of his white dress shirt, and rolled the cuffs up his forearms. His powerful body was supremely masculine, his style casually elegant. His voice, when he said, “Come here, Cassandra,” was anything but casual, though. It was deep and commanding.

That tone of command sent quivers of arousal racing through her blo
od.

Just slowly enough to make a point, she strolled toward him.

He frowned. “I'm not sure you really want this. Perhaps you should go.”

After stripping off her clothes for him? Not likely. She wanted sex, kink, orgasms. “I do want it. Honestly, Neville.”

He shook his head. “Here, you call me master.”

“M-Master?” Her voice squeaked in disbelief.

“I agreed that tonight we only play games. But we'll play them by my rules.”

How badly did she want a night's walk on the wild side, sex that made her cry out with the intensity of her release? If he could give her that, she'd call him whatever he wanted. Besides, she still felt that inexplicable desire to please him and win his approval. “I'm sorry, master.”

“That's better. Now my pet, I have jewelry for you. Let's see how you like it.”

From a black case, he took a wide collar, black leather studded with what had to be rhinestones. It was sleek, sexy. Oddly, though, it had a ring in the center. “It's lovely, but what's the ring for?”

He studied her, his lips pressed together, then said, “There are a few things we need to get clear, and—”

“I'm sorry,” she said, tongue in cheek. “I forgot to call you master.”

“Cassandra.” He said it icily. “If you want to dip your toe in my world, you will respect me.”

“I do. And I respect that you're a dom. But this is hard for me to relate to, because I'm not a submissive.”

“Forget the labels, and forget your fears. Put yourself in my hands. I and only I know your deepest needs and desires, and will fulfill them. Put your pleasure in my hands.” His deep voice caressed the word “pleasure” in a lingering way that made her skin quiver with need.

“I can do that.” There was something about Neville that made her suspect he knew how to bring a woman to screaming climax.

“Realize, though, that in order to achieve the deepest, purest pleasure, you will also experience pain. You can handle it, can't you, my pet?”

Another thrill of excitement rippled through her. Spanking? Maybe nipple clamps? Tonight, she wanted to push the bounds a little. “Yes, master.” Somehow, the term came more easily each time she said it.

“Good. Now here are two simple rules. You will not question me, or even speak unless I give you permission. And you will obey my commands. Disobedience will bring punishment.”

“Punishment?” The word flew out of her mouth, and she quickly said, “I'm sorry, master. I shouldn't have spoken.”

“Indeed.” He reached into his bag and drew out a black leather object with a handle and a flat, heart-shaped head. Perhaps he read the question in her eyes because he said, “This, pet, is a paddle. One that will set the sweet cheeks of your fine ass on fire.”

She'd anticipated spanking, but with his bare hand. Flesh on flesh seemed sexy, but leather . . . Not that he'd use the paddle on her, if she never disobeyed him. All the same, the sight of that heart-shaped leather head sent a tingle across her skin, a forbidden thrill racing through her blood. Maybe just the tiniest hint of disobedience, to get a taste of what the slap of leather might feel like on her tender flesh . . . One quick flick would hurt, but surely not too much. Just enough to break her through to a new level of sensual awareness and excitement.

“Now,” he said. “One final thing. Choose your safe word.”

“Uh . . .” She glanced around the room for inspiration. A cream-colored orchid plant sat on the dresser. “Orchid.”

“So be it.” His face lightened and he smiled at her, the same sexy, charismatic smile that had compelled her when he first spoke to her downstairs. “Now, pet, let us begin.”

She nodded, body quivering with anticipation, then lowered her head to let him slip the collar around her neck. His fingers caressed her flesh as he lifted her hair out of the way and fastened the clasp. The cool, smooth leather settled against her skin, feeling oddly right there.

From the black case, he next took a coiled strip of black leather. A belt? Did he plan to hit her with a belt?

“This,” he said, “is your leash, my lovely pet. Down on your hands and knees, so I can attach it to your collar.”

Her mouth fell open. He was going to treat her like a dog? That sounded more humiliating than arousing. And yet, some instinct made her want to obey, to please him. After all, he had promised her pleasure beyond what she'd ever experienced before . . .

Dax broke off, shaking his head. Putting a woman on a leash like a dog? Sounded sick to him, and he'd had enough of this book for now. Shouldn't Lily be home by now?

He reset her Kindle to the beginning of the book so she couldn't tell he'd been reading, and returned the device to where he'd found it. Then, back in the living room, he turned out the light and paced restlessly, his path lit only by the subdued flicker of artificial flames. What did it say about his wife that she read this stuff?

She'd been a virgin when he met her, shy but eager to learn. He'd taught her a lot but didn't figure she'd be into the really raunchy stuff. Yet she'd chosen a book about BDSM, after reading other erotic novels. An idea occurred to him. Fiction could be insightful and make you think, but it could also let you explore fantasy worlds. Maybe Lily wasn't unfaithful, but bored with the sex that used to excite her. Cassandra wanted to kick her sex life up a notch; perhaps Lily craved that, too. His body, which hadn't responded to
Bound by Desire
, tightened at that thought.

When they were teens, she, like lots of other girls, had been attracted to his bad-boy persona. He'd done his best to grow up, to deserve her. But maybe she missed his rougher side. He couldn't imagine her wanting to be collared and leashed, but did she want him to be more macho with her?