Masks of a Tiger (13 page)

"Well, that's a
good start." Ink's deep voice made the fine hair on her neck stand to
attention. "Come here, girl."

Neeve
obeyed
immediately, her newly discovered submissive side unable to withstand the quiet
authority in that deep voice. She stood next to
Grisha
who placed a hand on her neck in a clear act of possession that should have
annoyed her. Instead, this morning, after everything they'd shared last night,
it was an oddly comforting gesture, and she leant into that hand. He tightened
his hand imperceptibly, just enough to reassure her and to calm the army of
butterflies that seemed to have taken up residence in her tummy.

"I take it you
claimed her,
Grisha
? She will not be causing any more
trouble in my club?" There was a hint of amusement in Ink's voice, and
Cherie giggled.

Neeve's
heart
constricted at the word claimed.
The rational side of her
screamed that she was no one’s property to be claimed even as the pressure on
her neck increased.

"Yes, I have. We
made a start at least.
Neeve
is my sub and my
responsibility." She couldn't help it. She had to look up at
Grisha's
words. He smiled down on her with such a heated
look of approval that any objection the old
Neeve
might have uttered flew straight out of her head. The room faded away until it
was just the two of them, locked in their little bubble of connection. Tears
pricked the back of her eyes again, and
Neeve
let
them fall, uncaring who might see her thus emotionally exposed.
Grisha
swore and pulled her into his frame. Surrounded by
the smell and feel of him she closed her eyes and simply savored the moment.

"I think you're
right, baby girl. We will have to use another dungeon to play this
morning." Ink's voice broke the moment, and she pushed against
Grisha's
chest. He released her immediately, and Cherie
placed a cup of coffee into her hands.
Neeve
inhaled
the bitter fragrance, and Cherie laughed.

"Drink it, doll.
You look as though you need it. Good night was it?"

Heat rose in
Neeve's
cheeks, much to her annoyance. She never blushed,
and she never cried, damn it. Yet, one night with
Grisha
and she'd turned into the twenty-first century equivalent of a simpering
regency heroine. What the fuck was up with that?

Cherie merely laughed,
winked at her, and followed Ink out of the dungeon. The door whooshed shut with
quiet efficiency, once again obliterating the noise of the cleaning crew in
action.

Neeve
took a
cautious sip of her coffee and groaned at the flavors exploding on her tongue.
Grisha
laughed and massaged her neck with one hand whilst
lifting his own coffee cup to his lips and taking a long swallow.
Neeve's
eyes followed the movement of his strong throat,
and
Grisha's
fingers tightened on her scalp.

"Cherie makes
amazing coffee, and if you keep looking at me like that, I'll have you tied to
that Saint Andrews Cross and fucked senseless before you can say, eat your
croissant."
Neeve
had no doubt that he would
follow through on that promise, and lord help her if the thought of being bound
and at his mercy, didn’t have her nipples pucker and her juices soak her pussy
lips.
Grisha
inhaled sharply.

"Sweet
Neeve
, you'll be the death of me. I love how responsive you
are to me, how turned on you get by the mere suggestion of being restrained. Do
you see how submissive you are, how much you need this as much as I do?"
He took the coffee cup out of her hands and then guided them down to his groin.
His cock twitched and hardened under her hands, and a heady rush of power
filled her at the thought that this man desired her as much as she did him.

"Does that feel as
though you're not what I need?"

****

Grisha
heard her
sharp intake of breath when he quoted her words back to him. Her gloriously red
hair covered her face, and as she stood so beautifully submissive the kernel of
hope last night had planted in his chest took hold and blossomed. They had
shared so much of each other last night, much more than he’d ever shared with
any other person, bar Ink.

She stroked him now
through his jeans, and
Grisha
ground his teeth as his
cock responded with predictable eagerness. He grabbed her wrist, and she
released him with a sigh. A single tear drop fell on his hand, and
Grisha's
blood turned to ice in his veins.

"I'm not what you
need, though. This has been fun, but you'll find someone else soon enough. It's
what you do." She tried to pull away, and his tiger roared its
displeasure, whilst the man grabbed her by the shoulders. He gave her a small
shake, resisting the urge to shake her like a ragdoll.

"Is that really
what you think? That I could just discard you like a used shoe? That the things
we shared mean nothing to me?" She flinched at his harsh words and swiped
another tear off her face with an angry move. She stamped her foot and yanked
her shoulders out of his grasp.

"No, that's not
what I think, because I'm not any man's doormat, and I will not let you treat
me like that." She raised her face to stare up at him, and the fire in her
eyes thawed the ice in his veins. She wouldn't be this angry if she didn't care
about him, at least a little, and his little human tigress was so furious she
trembled. Hands balled into fists, her delicate skin flushed red,
she
looked stunningly beautiful.

"So, I'm walking.
It's
me
saying, thanks for the ride. Just let me get my fucking dress,
and call me a taxi."

He crossed his arms to
stop himself from crushing her to him and just stood watching her. She tried to
get past him, but he stopped her with one simple word.

"Mine."

"What?"

"I should put you
back over my knee, for that insolence,
sub."
He growled the words,
pitching his voice deliberately as low as he could, and
Neeve
closed her eyes. She shook her head, but this time when he grasped her elbow
and pulled her up against him, she came willingly.

He cupped her chin, and
her eyes fluttered open at his whispered, "Look at me, my love."

The vulnerability and
desperate hope he saw in her expressive orbs made his voice husky. "Sweet
Neeve
, I have no intention to ever let you go. From the
minute you trusted me with your body and your mind, you were mine, and you
always will be." She gasped at his words, and when she would have spoken
he put one finger on her lips to silence her. "No, let me finish,
sweetheart. I love the way you challenge me at every turn. I love your
independent streak, your refusal to be anyone's property, because it makes your
submission to me so much sweeter. You will have heard this before, I know, but
it is the submissive
who
holds all the power in a Dom/sub
relationship, and every relationship is different. We define ours.
You and me, together.
It's my job, as your Dom, to push and
stretch you, to protect you from yourself." He paused and tapped her wrist
to emphasize his point, and all the fight went out of her.

"I'm here to help
you,
Neeve
. This has always been about your
needs."

She frowned, and he
could almost see the wheels turning in her head. When she finally spoke the
last chunks of ice dissipated in the frantic beating of his heart.

"But,
what about you?
You must get something out of this, Sir?"

"I get your
submission. You have no idea how beautiful you are when you give me your trust.
To witness your responsiveness, your eagerness to please, it is the greatest
gift you can give me. To hear you come screaming my name, begging for your
release, that fulfills my needs. To know that you're mine and mine alone."

She leant closer into
him while he spoke and wrapped her arms around his middle. With her ear pressed
against his chest she would not be able to miss his frantic heartbeat.

"I won't ever wear
any fucking collar, just so we're clear …
Sir
."

Grisha
suppressed a
smile at the renewed defiance in her voice.

"I suspected as
much, my sweet
Neeve
. I will just have to try extra
hard to convince you." She grumbled something under her breath and tried
to kick his shin, but
Grisha
blocked the move easily.
He spun her around and marched her over to the imposing Saint
Andrew’s Cross
. Her eyes grew wide, and her breath hitched
when he kicked her legs apart and raised her arms above her head. He secured
her arms in the padded wrist straps and leant down to kiss her. She sighed into
the kiss and melted into him. He whipped the towel off her and secured her legs,
too.

His heart burst with
pride when she raised her head up to look at him. Spread wide for him to
admire, her skin still showing the faint marks of his possession, she was his
to do with as he pleased. But it was the trust and love he saw in her
expressive eyes that had his tiger roll over in submission.

"You can try,
Sir."

He smiled and stepped up
to her to claim her mouth in a bruising kiss. She whimpered into his mouth and
kissed him back. He framed her head with his large hands, the need to say the
words he never thought he would, bursting from him.

"I love you,
sub."
 
She gasped, and a tremble went through
her as he repeated the words in between kisses. He tasted her tears under his
tongue, and his soul soared when she whispered her reply.

"I love you,
Sir!
"

The End

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