To Sir (22 page)

“Hey, my man, what’s up?”

“Two things. I think I found a sub…maybe. And—”

“Fuck the other thing. Please, God, tell me it’s the writer.”

Chase laughed his head off. He couldn’t help it. The surety mixed with hope in Dusty’s voice was too much. He sank into his car and leaned back into the leather. “Yeah, it’s the writer.”

“Hot damn, boy. I never thought you’d do it!”

“Oh, we did it. And then some. A couple of times.”

Dusty’s giggle resounded in his car as his phone connected to the Bluetooth.

“Kick-ass. Well, man, I’m of course delighted for you. That rocks my socks. I knew I saw that sparkle in her eyes the first time she stepped into the club. Rumor had it you brought someone in with you the other night. We’ve been so wrapped up in the drama I didn’t think it was good to bring it up since you’ve been…”

“Say it, D.”

“Moody as a teen girl on the rag.”

“Ugh. Gross.” Chase shook his head to clear it of that particularly gruesome image as he navigated the car through the neighborhood and to the local grocery store.

Dusty laughed. “Hey, you asked.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Chase grew quiet. The silence on the other end of the line was classic Dusty behavior. Letting things rest until Chase was ready to own up and talk. The number of times Dusty’s silent treatment hadn’t worked could be counted on one hand, with fingers left over.

“She’s got some heavy limits. And we’ve just begun negotiations.”

“Okay, like what?”

“Well, for starters, she’d always kind of considered herself vanilla.” Chase grinned. Vanilla she was not.

“Yikes. You’ve agreed to be her first Dom?”

He didn’t respond for a second. He was getting too close to the grocery store. This was not a conversation he could have in public. So he turned the opposite way and drove down a street. He wasn’t sure where it led, but he could always use GPS to get back to the store when he was done talking.

“Not exactly. That’s one of the limits. Well, the only one we’ve really discussed so far. She wants to be dominated in the bedroom, and that’s it.”

“Like the literal bedroom or…”

“No, sexually.” It should be weird talking to D about this kind of stuff, but it wasn’t.

“Damn. Like…no collar, no
Sir
, no orders on daily tasks, what she’s wearing? Nothing?”

“I think so.”

“Is that even possible?”

“You know there are a lot of different kinds of kink.” Chase couldn’t keep the edge from his voice. That was his new sub Dusty was talking about. And if this was what she wanted, there wasn’t a damned thing wrong with it.

“Whoa there, big papa. I didn’t mean as in,
Wow, how could somebody want that?
I literally meant for you—like is that a possibility for you? You’re one of the most dominant Doms I know, Chase.”

He wasn’t saying anything Chase hadn’t already thought. But what if he was right? What if Chase couldn’t give her what she needed? That had always been his problem as a full-time Dom—not being able to fulfill his subs’ needs. He didn’t know if he could go through that again. Feeling inadequate sucked. Big-time. He’d asked Liz to take a huge leap of faith and trust him to guide her in learning about this side of herself. What if he failed miserably? Again.

“Truthfully, I don’t know. But I know I have to try. It’s on the hard-limit list for her. And I sort of had straight sex with her the other night. As in totally vanilla. With her on top to boot.”

“Damn, babe. You got it
bad
for this girl.”

He did. There was no use denying it. He hadn’t felt this alive or this whole in longer than he could remember. But shit, he had to be careful. If this didn’t work out, he would have nothing left. This would be it; he wouldn’t pursue any more long-term relationships. The third better be the charm, or he was SOL.

“Yeah. I think I do. I, um, persuaded her to give it a shot. On a trial basis.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So this is doable, right? I’m not completely out of my mind?”

“I don’t think you are. The fact that you’re even entertaining the idea means that it might actually work, crazy as it is.”

“So what I needed to hear.”

“Good. Now what was the second thing?”

Chase turned around, backtracking to the grocery store and trying to wrap his mind around the other thing he’d wanted to talk to his partner about. He’d honestly forgotten in the midst of discussing Liz. He had it bad indeed.

“Oh, yeah. Any breakthroughs on our business crisis?” He pulled into the grocery store’s lot.

“Unfortunately not. But could that be tomorrow’s problem?”

Chase could relate. “Very soon we’re going to run out of tomorrows,” he warned. It was a reminder not just for his friend, but also for himself. If he got too caught up in seducing Liz into being his for longer than four weeks, he might destroy the one thing he’d fought for his entire adult life—financial security and a place to call his own, where he could be himself.

* * * *

“Time for dinner, sweetheart.”

Liz blinked and glanced up at Chase in the dim light filtering in from the hall. She swallowed a few times and stretched, her body protesting the movement. Oh, she was sore. And not necessarily in a bad way. He leaned down and brushed strands of hair from her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. Then he kissed her. It was a searing, passionate kiss that had her toes curling within seconds.

She moaned, pulling his head closer and sitting up so she could reach more of him. It seemed she was insatiable where he was concerned.

“Uh-uh. Not so fast.” He pulled back, and she pouted. He ran his thumb along her bottom lip roughly. “You are a little brat, aren’t you?”

She nipped at his finger. He hissed, and his eyes turned dark, dominant. She shuddered under that gaze.

“You’re going to have to pay for that.”

Uh-oh. She didn’t know if she liked the sound of that. When he produced a blindfold from behind his back, she decided she most definitely did not. He sat on the bed beside her. She bit her bottom lip.

“I thought it was time for dinner,” she whispered lamely, trying to worm her way out of putting that thing on.

“Oh, it’s absolutely time for dinner. And this is the beginning of your four weeks of training. Negotiations start now. I want you to wear this at dinner.” He hung the eye cover from one finger. “And nothing else.”

She opened and closed her mouth, inspecting the blindfold. It was the kind people wore to keep out the sunlight when they slept. It looked soft. Silky, even. “And if I refuse?”

He grinned. “Then I’ll tell you to wear it.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I’ll put you over my knee,” he said simply. As if that was the only answer to their discussion. No compromises, no middle ground. Either she wore it, or she got spanked. A thrill shot through her. Damn, just the negotiation was getting her all hot and bothered.

“Is this how all negotiations will go?”

He smiled and took her hand. “No. Of course not. But I’ll push. And keep pushing until we hit a limit. But you
have
to communicate with me. You have to tell me, well, everything. When you like something, when you’re not sure if it’s quite right, when you’re starting to get overwhelmed, when you think you can’t take it any longer. Anything crosses that line, all you have to do is say the word.”

“Like a safe word?”

He squeezed her hand. “Someone’s been doing her research. I think
no
will be fine as an all stop. We can stick to plain old English for now.”

“So if something’s freaking me out, or too much, or hell, not enough, that’s what I should say?”

He nodded.

“I-I think I can do that.” She’d never been the quiet type, but could she communicate what she was thinking and feeling as it happened? She didn’t know if she could be that honest and open with herself, let alone someone else. It would take a lot of trust.

“Good.” He offered the blindfold again. She took it from him and ran her hands over the supple fabric and the elastic band. “Let’s pull your hair back.” It sounded like a suggestion, but she knew it was a command.

She laid the blindfold on the bed between them and finger-combed her hair, then pulled it back into a braid at the base of her neck. Used to braiding, her fingers worked fast. Chase watched her every movement, and for a second she felt self-conscious, but when her gaze met the heat in his, all she could do was bathe in the warmth.

“Are you ready?”

No.
She nodded.

He lifted the blindfold and slid it over her eyes. What light had been shining in from the hall quickly vanished, and she gasped. A finger whispered down her cheek, across her neck, and down between her breasts. She inhaled sharply.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Chase’s voice grounded her. She turned toward the sound and waited. A soft swish of fabric later and her body was exposed to the chill in the air. She shivered. Then Chase was tugging her off the bed, and she wobbled to her feet. He steadied her, still holding tightly to both her hands. Like this, she could hear every movement he made. And she could smell this delicious cologne he wore. It was dark and woodsy. Spicy. The perfect scent for a man like Chase.

She took small steps to follow him out of the bedroom and down the hall. How were they not tripping over her clutter of boxes, junk, and garbage? Oh, right. Chase had cleaned. She tried to picture where they were in the house with every step, but she couldn’t really. He turned her body, releasing her hand and placing his on her shoulder. “The chair is directly behind you. Sit.” His hot whisper shot right to her core, making her inner muscles clench.

He pressed the slightest bit on her shoulder, and she sat down into the chair. “Oh,” she exclaimed. The cold wood on her bare bottom was foreign yet soothing to the ache in her muscles. A swirl of scents surrounded her, and she held the rim of the chair to stay grounded. Chase’s pants whooshed as he walked away from her. What had he cooked?

Anticipation unfurled inside her, coiling her nerves tighter with each second.

“Open,” he demanded from somewhere in front and to the left of her. She parted her lips. A metal spoon slipped inside her mouth, and she closed her lips around it. Savory tastes assaulted her tongue as the liquid dripped off the spoon. Soup of some kind, but she wasn’t sure what. She moaned at the taste, and Chase pulled the spoon free.

“You like?” he asked, his voice deep and husky.

“Mm-hmm,” she whispered. She was perched on the edge of the chair now, waiting for the next bite.

“Open,” he commanded.

She did, and something cool and sweet pressed between her lips.

“Bite.”

She bit down, and the juicy, chocolate-covered strawberry exploded in her mouth. With each command, her body wound tighter, her nipples hardened, and her head started buzzing. Was this the subspace he’d been talking about? Living on this tightrope of wondering what was coming next and trusting Chase to take her somewhere magical? She chewed slowly, savoring every nuanced taste. Nothing had ever been so sweet on her tongue. She’d read a scene like this once in a book and scoffed. Being blindfolded couldn’t possibly make taste buds come alive, or so she’d thought. Now she knew the truth.

Juice dripped down her chin, and she lifted a shaky hand.

“Leave it.”

Her hand froze in midair as she swallowed the mixture of chocolate and fruit. Lowering her hand, she waited, her mind whirring. Desire raced through her, her heart thrumming double time. Sedately, she lowered her hand to once again grip the seat. She still couldn’t believe she was sitting naked in one of her dining room chairs.

Then Chase’s hot tongue was licking along her lips, and all thought left in a rush. She tightened her muscles to keep herself upright when dizziness overwhelmed her. He nibbled his way down her chin, removing the sticky sweetness with his lips, tongue, and teeth. And the next thing she knew, he was kissing her in truth, demanding with his mouth that she open hers to him. She obeyed without a thought of protest, letting him delve deep with his tongue and tease her lips with his teeth.

Liz delighted in the taste of strawberry still on his tongue—and hers. It mixed deliciously with the taste of Chase. When she was breathless, he pulled back. She leaned so far forward she almost toppled off the chair. A light hand on her shoulder steadied her.

“Maybe I should have tied you to the chair,” he said, chuckling.

She quavered. Maybe he should have. The idea sent a thrill through her, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream. Bound
and
blindfolded.

He cupped her cheek in his big palm. “Damn if that look on your face doesn’t say you’d enjoy that.”

She remained silent. It wasn’t exactly a question, and something told her she shouldn’t respond quite yet. At least not verbally. According to the research she’d done, submissives didn’t generally volunteer information, only responded when asked direct questions, and usually they ended their phrases with
Sir
or
Master
, depending on the relationship.

“Would you like that? For me to tie your arms behind your back and secure them to the chair?”

Saying no would be a lie, but she didn’t know if she could let him go that far yet. “Yes.” The word slipped out in a whisper before she could overthink it and back down.

“Yes, what, Elizabeth?”

Her abdomen tensed, her stomach dropping. He wanted her to say it. Could she? She bit her bottom lip hard. Then she lowered her head. “Yes, Sir.” She’d done it. And she hadn’t hated it. She couldn’t call him Master. Even though, after a second, when she thought about the wordplay there, a small smile curved her lips.

But calling him Sir didn’t make her feel cheap or used or oppressed the way she’d thought it would. If anything, it seemed to fit. It was like role-playing to the nth degree. She was still her, but somehow not. It didn’t make her less or more. It just was. Pleasure skittered down her spine.

He wound her braid around his hand and tugged down, pulling her head back, elongating her neck and making her lips open in a pant. His grip stung, and her muscles stretched almost painfully.