Authors: Rachell Nichole
Tags: #BDSM; Multicultural
“Sorry, I have to…”
She turned to glare at him over her shoulder. He was reaching into his pocket for his phone. He was taking a phone call
“Stay,” he said. “Please. Look at anything you want. Help yourself. I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.” He held the phone up to his ear, mouthed,
, and said, “Damn it, Dusty, something better be on fire— Oh, shit.”
He turned and hurried from the room.
What the hell?
Liz stood there, frozen, hurt, confused. And then the vibrator roared to life in her pants, and she cried out, the orgasm overtaking her. That little shit still had the remote.
Good thing Dusty couldn’t see the smile on his face. Chase turned off the remote as Liz’s cries of pleasure rang out from the other side of the ajar door. Still smiling, he tried to listen to his business partner.
“Yeah, man. Open for business as of tonight. We have a judge who’s always wanted to become a member but didn’t think he could. He didn’t announce that to the public, lest they throw his ass out of the courtroom for his ‘debauchery.’ But he called a while ago and said he would be lifting the injunction.”
“Thank fuck. Is that all?” He was relieved, of course. Delighted. But with another flick of his finger on the switch, Liz moaned, and all he wanted was to be out of this conversation and back in that room with her.
“Babe, aren’t you like the least bit interested? This is great news.”
“It is, man, truly. But I was kind of in the middle of something.”
“Whoa. Shit. Fucking finally. Oh, God, is it Suzanna?”
“No,” Chase said curtly.
“Right. Great. Hanging up now. Details later. Love you, assface.”
“You too, dick lick.” Chase hit End on his phone and placed it on the small table in the hallway. He didn’t care if it rang again. The most important stuff was taken care of. He could trust Dusty to hold down the fort and start planning a grand reopening party for this evening. The man could work miracles, even on such short notice. The K Club would be in full swing tonight. And maybe he could bring his new little writer friend along with him.
He shut off the vibrator and slipped back inside his playroom. The one that hadn’t been used in longer than he cared to admit. Liz had wandered away from her position strapped around the bedpost and sat kneeling in front of his chest of goodies. A tremor shook her body, and he took a moment to admire the view of her backside as she reached in to get something from the bottom of the chest.
A true sub never would have left her post, but Liz was a writer who knew nothing of his world except for what she’d read in books. She wasn’t as close to the vanilla side of the…what had she called it…the Masters Kink Scale as she’d thought.
He leaned against the wall, leaving the door ajar. He wanted to watch for a second and see her reaction in addition to hearing it. He clicked the vibrator on again. She gasped, and the cheeks of her ass clenched deliciously.
“Damn it,” she muttered, shifting.
He turned up the speed, and a low moan rewarded him. With effort, he held in a chuckle. She was clearly annoyed that he’d left her and taken the remote with him. He could practically see the fury radiating from her. He’d expected that first orgasm to loosen her up a bit, but her shoulders were coiled tight with tension.
“Fucking hell,” she whispered, arching her back and panting.
He changed settings from full-on to a one-two pulse. Slow, then fast, then nothing, then slow again. This was the reason the multifunction bullet with wireless remote was one of his favorite playthings.
“Stupid, insufferable male,” she grumbled, but her voice held no heat. It wasn’t like the bullet was attached to her. If she’d wanted it to stop, she could have removed it at any time. The fact that she hadn’t told him there might be hope for her yet.
Was he honestly considering playing with her? Of course he was. He’d already started. But he’d never wanted to be someone’s first Dom, because if boundaries got pushed too far, it could leave emotional scars neither of them would want. He’d done enough damage to his last full-time sub. And he didn’t know what Liz’s background was. Now that things were a bit more on track with the club, maybe he could afford the distraction, but the idea of showing Liz what this lifestyle had to offer warred with his cautious nature, which warned not to bite off more than he could chew.
Liz sat back on her feet and clutched the edge of the chest, her head lolling to her shoulder, and he crept forward until he was right behind her. Screw it. He deserved some fun, damn it. And so did she.
He sank silently to his knees. When he clicked the bullet off, she cried out, slamming her fist down. He caught it before she connected with the hard chest and hurt herself. She yelped and jerked back against him.
He nuzzled the side of her neck and wrapped both of her arms securely around her abdomen and held her tight. Her hips undulated forward, searching for the friction she needed to find release. He kissed and nibbled along her neck, restraining her, and flicked the switch.
“Ah. Oh, God.” She tried to arch her back, bucking against his hold, but he tightened his arms just enough to keep her still as her body spasmed out of control. She screamed and shook in his arms as he continued to bite and suck the tender flesh of her neck. “Enough! God, please.”
He turned the vibrator off and loosened his grip. He pressed a gentle kiss on her neck and sat back, bringing her with him in the cradle of his legs and arms.
She shook from head to toe, and her body slumped against his. She turned her face up to him and tried to unbend her legs. He lifted her slight body easily and settled her on his lap. Those bewildered eyes bore the distinct shine of tears, and he slipped a hand inside her unbuttoned pants to remove the bullet. She flinched away from his touch. He set the toy aside and locked gazes with her, willing her not to cry and knowing all he could do was hold her if she did.
He’d pushed her too far. Sought his own pleasure in her self-discovery instead of guiding her to it tenderly. And then he’d taken a fucking phone call in the middle of it. What the hell was wrong with him?
“I-I…” She couldn’t seem to find the words she needed. He’d expected her to curl up in a sated ball on his lap, maybe snooze for a bit. He was fast realizing that she was never going to do what he expected. But he could feel how weak she was, even if she refused to admit it or let him see it. Her body needed hydration and rest.
“Do you want me to let you go?”
She nodded, then stopped, shrugged.
“I didn’t mean I was going to drop you like a sack on the carpet and walk away, despite the fact that I kind of left you hanging a few minutes ago. That was a real jerk move, by the way. And I’m really,
sorry. If you’d actually been tied up, I wouldn’t have left you alone, not even if the Pope himself was on the other end of that line.”
Her small smirk made him relax somewhat. Maybe he hadn’t ruined the beginnings of a play relationship completely after all. Could he possibly salvage the afternoon? The sounds, feel, and sight of her orgasm had certainly revved him up. But that bewildered, kind of scared, and somewhat hurt expression on her face had quickly quelled his desires. So much for fun. But he’d pursued her, and he wasn’t going to jump ship and abandon her now.
“Up we go, okay?”
“Mm,” she said.
Taking that as a yes, he set her on the white carpet. He gained his feet, and when she held up her hand to be helped up, he leaned over and lifted her. She rolled her eyes, and he grinned. He carried her to the bed and placed her on the mattress, then sat beside her and set to undoing the straps. When her wrists were free, he rubbed her pinkened skin and then massaged her hands.
She gave him a strange look.
“Oh, right. Novice. This is pretty standard postplay practice. Rub down and work out any sore spots, apply lotion or salve to any places that need it. It’s called aftercare.” He tried to be clinical in his description, but the feel of her soft skin and the unsure expression on her face made it hard. He opened the bottom door of his small fridge next to the bed and grabbed a bottle of water for her.
She scooted into a sitting position and took the bottle, then downed half of it in one swoop. “Thanks,” she said, looking anywhere but at him. Her gaze traveled around the room, but he wasn’t sure if she really saw anything. She seemed to have pulled in on herself, her expression smoothing into indifference, her bent knees and stiff shoulders practically daring him to breach her defenses.
But he’d done enough damage for one day.
So he opened his own bottle of water, sat beside her, and waited. The door was still ajar, the brighter light from the hall slipping into the dim room. It was up to her what happened next, and he had to tamp down every domineering or protective instinct he had to take over and see to her needs, whether or not she was going to admit them to herself or him. He bit his lip to keep from saying anything else, giving her time to process what they’d just done.
Something told him she wasn’t the kind of woman who had sex, of any kind, with a man she’d just met, let alone one with whom she was barely civil. It was killing him not to wrap her up in his arms and tell her this was okay. She had to figure that out on her own. And he had to let her, damn it.
“So…what the heck just happened?” she finally asked into the silence.
“Heck?” Her word choice wasn’t what he should focus on right now, but it gave him something concrete to say, instead of trying to answer such a sticky question.
“I don’t swear. You got a problem with that?” The anger in her voice was refreshing. At least she wasn’t completely closed off to him.
“I beg to differ. I’m pretty sure I heard the words
come out of your mouth a few minutes ago.” He glanced at her as he said this, in time to see her cheeks turn scarlet.
“You heard that, then?”
“Sweetheart, I think they heard you in Kentucky.” He smiled.
She punched him on the arm. Hard.
“Ow.” He rubbed his bicep. “What the hell was that for?”
She smiled. “Everything, I think.”
“Not for nothing, but you didn’t seem to mind it much until about two minutes ago. In fact, you let me buckle those straps to you, tie you to the bed, and slip a vibrator down your pants. One you could have removed at any time.” Shit. Shit. Shit.
what he’d wanted to say. And definitely not what he should have said.
Her dark eyes narrowed, and he knew lesser men would have shrunk in the presence of that glare. But he owed it to her not to cower. If she wanted to explore this side of herself, she would need someone strong to lead her, and as much as he knew it was a stupid idea, he’d clearly already decided to be that someone, at least for the time being. If she’d allow it.
“I was only stating the facts, and you know it. You might write fiction for a living, but can you really ignore the truth that’s staring you in the face?”
“And what truth is that, exactly?” She cocked her head to the side, and he slammed his mouth closed against his curse. Lost in the moment, he’d marked her as if she were his. As if she wanted to be. It was a stupid rookie move, and he had no excuse for it. If she fought this hard to refuse that she’d enjoyed the past half hour, no doubt she’d be furious when she saw it.
He cleared his throat. “This went a lot further than I’d intended. Honestly. I did not bring you up here with the idea to ravish you.” At her scowl, he continued, “Okay, well, maybe with the idea, but I wasn’t planning on acting on it. I figured I could give you a few things to explore, answer some more questions, maybe let you experience some of what this kind of world has to offer. But then you didn’t ask any questions, and…” He stopped talking. What else could he say? That he’d been powerless in the face of her half-tempted, half-terrified expression? That he’d wanted to show her something of herself that he’d seen a glimpse of that day in the K Club?
“And I just let you do whatever you wanted to me. No, that’s not true. I didn’t
it happen. I consented. You made me say it. I practically threw myself at you like some whore, actually.” She glanced away, her shoulders slumping forward, and hung her head.
He touched her then. He couldn’t help it. Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her closer, trying to shield her body from something he had no hope of fighting. This woman was suffering from some serious denial of her sexual desires and needs. She’d called herself a
, for fuck’s sake.
“Hey.” He placed his index finger under her chin and exerted just enough pressure so she’d raise her head and look at him. “There isn’t a single fucking thing wrong with what we did. Except maybe the fact that we didn’t talk about it enough first. We’re two consenting adults who were having fun together. At least I thought we were.”
She bit her bottom lip, and instantly, he was hard again. Damn it. So not the time. He took a deep breath, trying to squash the rising tide of his desire.
“I think it’s time for me to go.”
Her words were an immediate soft-on. Worse than a kick to the balls. She was doing exactly what he’d feared she would—running. And this was reason number one why he didn’t train new subs. Or play with innocent novices.
“If that’s what you really want.” He didn’t want her to go. Didn’t want her to be alone to sort through the emotional fallout, but what could he do? The idea of securing her to the bed until she was ready to let him help her flashed briefly through his mind, but he knew he wouldn’t ever do that. Not to someone who wasn’t his.
“Why don’t you take a few to decompress? I’ll wait for you in the kitchen,” he suggested. Yes, that sounded like a more reasonable idea.
He sighed and slid from the bed. With a knot in his gut, he walked out of the room, abandoning her.
LIZ SLUMPED BACK against the soft pillows as Chase left her alone in this crazy room filled with terrifyingly erotic instruments. She hadn’t learned anything that would help her with her book, except for maybe the fact that she was being a fool. She’d admitted to herself sometime in the past week that something about this lifestyle turned her on, in the pages of a book or in the images of a screen.