Writes of Submission (23 page)

Nikki sighed. There was a buzzing noise in her brain now. Must be the codeine. Dante picked up her hand and stroked it. “But I need to know, Nikki. Do you want one of us or both of us or neither of us? We can live with whatever you decide, but it’s up to you.”

Her eyes were getting really, really heavy. He was asking her who she wanted. She needed to say that she wanted them both. She
did
want them both. When they’d touched her, made love to her, she’d thought she was in heaven. She remembered the four large, strong, masculine hands on her body, their mouths, their beautiful cocks. It was too good to be true.

“Can’t last,” she heard herself murmuring.

Dante’s anxious face hovered over her. “Are you okay, Nikki? Getting sleepy?”

“I want—” Her tongue seemed to have doubled in size and she couldn’t focus on him anymore. She was only aware that she needed to know how they felt. There was no point in her wanting things that weren’t on the table. Kane was too perfect, too successful, had too much going for him to want someone like her.

“No point,” she began to say, but her eyes were closing firmly.

Chapter 19

When she woke up again, Allie was in her room. She seemed to be replacing the variety of food that Dante had brought in earlier with a plate of fresh cheese, fruit, and pita slices with some kind of dip.

“Hi,” Allie said, coming over to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I think I’ll survive.” Nikki moved a little, testing her muscles. There was some complaining, but not quite as much as earlier.

“Hungry?”

“Yeah, I think so. A little. That looks good.” Allie helped her sit up and moved the food to the edge of the desk where she could reach it easily. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” Allie took a seat and poured Nikki a glass of orange juice.

“Oh, thanks.” Nikki spread some of the odd-looking black dip on a piece of pita and took a bite. “This is wonderful. Where is Dante?”

“I finally convinced him to leave your side and go have dinner.” Allie smiled at her. “He’s been up here all day.”

Nikki took a piece of cheese but stared at it thoughtfully instead of eating. “What have I gotten myself into here?”

“I’m not sure. You tell me.” Allie nibbled at a piece of pita.

“It’s just getting so real,” Nikki said, leaning back onto her pillows. “I’ve read and fantasized about the whole BDSM thing, but now that I have the opportunity to live it I’m kind of scared. What if Kane turns out to be some kind of psychotic rapist? Can you tell something like that?”

“Well, yes and no.” Allie got up and began wandering through the room touching and straightening the little teddy bears that lined the shelves. “It’s impossible to know somebody else completely. You never know what other people are really capable of. But sexual predators aren’t as common in the community as you’d think. There are people who don’t pay as much attention to their partners’ needs and boundaries as they should, of course, and Doms who go after every new sub that walks in, but that’s not quite the same as a psychopath. You have to be careful about some things, but there’s a difference between the kind of sadist who wants their partner to enjoy what they’re doing and the kind that only gets off if they don’t. That kind doesn’t usually go to BDSM clubs, though. We joke about torture, but no Dom I know would actually do something to their partner that wasn’t completely consensual and desired.”

“Really? What if they like something that their partner doesn’t?”

“There are probably Doms who manipulate their subs into doing things they’re not comfortable with.” Allie shrugged. “Then it’s up to the submissive to speak her mind. We’re not doormats. We do this for ourselves as much as for our partners, and we deserve to have the kind of relationships we want. But most Dominants only indulge in the kinds of play that they know are enjoyable for both.”

“You do this for yourself?” Nikki stared at her. “I assumed—I mean—What does that mean?”

Allie smiled. “I get as much out of the Dominant/submissive dynamic as Karl does. Many, many people have a need to serve and everybody likes to feel needed and appreciated. When I’m kneeling in front of Sir, we’re both focused on my service to him. I’m doing something that feels really valuable to me and I know he appreciates what I do. It’s a win-win.”

“But doesn’t he take advantage of that?”

“That’s the beauty of D/s. If one person isn’t supplying what their partner needs, it’s time to renegotiate. If you’re not getting what you want, that’s your fault for not making sure it’s understood and agreed to. The main problem I have with traditional relationships is that everything is unspoken. If you’re working your ass off for your partner and they’re not appreciating it, then maybe what you’re doing isn’t what they actually need. Negotiating the relationship brings all of that into the open so it’s not a matter of guesswork or thinking that they would want the same things that you would want.”

“Ah.” Nikki thought about it. “So you’re saying that being submissive is actually a benefit?”

“Of course it is. The submissive carries most of the power in the relationship, even though it doesn’t look like it from the outside. Giving your power to someone else doesn’t mean you have none. It means you’re letting them direct it, and you trust them to put it to good use.” She looked thoughtfully at Nikki. “Have you guys done any negotiating in your relationship yet?”

Nikki shook her head and then, as the room swam again, made a mental note to stop doing that until the effects of her fall had worn off. “Not really. I have no idea what Kane or Dante want or why they’re with me, other than the writing thing.”

Allie stood up. “Well, I can guarantee you it isn’t just for the writing. You need to think about what you want and let them know. It seems to me they’re both getting a little nervous about it. Speaking of the guys, I’d better get downstairs and see how they’re doing. I left a little bell on your nightstand. Ring it if you need anything.”

* * * *

Kane went back up to his room after dinner. It had seemed like a really strange day not having Nikki turning in her writing to him so they could go over it.

Funny how it was so easy to get used to things like that. He’d never had a writing partner before, but now he couldn’t imagine any other system. She would write a scene, then he would suggest a few changes and they’d discuss what direction the story would take from there. Their discussion always surprised him, but when he sat down to write at night, he always had a clear idea of where he was going, and he knew the end product was going to be better than he would have written on his own.

Not that his books before had been bad. They just hadn’t had Nikki’s influence. He was sure their combined imaginations produced something that was bigger than the sum of its parts. They fed off each other and nourished each other’s ideas, the process escalating like a game of leapfrog. He smiled to himself at the image. How could he have ever thought that his reclusive life was satisfying? His beach house was beautiful, sure, but he was tucked away in there with his wine and his music like some hermit, emailing his manuscripts in to nameless, faceless editors and allowing his publicity people to handle the world for him.

Now he’d begun to have visions of a different kind of life. The three of them would start attending conferences together. They would meet and talk to their fans. He wanted Nikki to be public, to put herself out there and be known. There might be problems, but he and Dante would be able to keep her on track and watch her back, making sure she didn’t get overwhelmed or lose sight of who she was.

That was why poly could really work for them, but only if she was willing. She wouldn’t need to choose between him and Dante, but she would still have to choose him. Allie might be right, and Nikki might be viewing him as a Dom, but he just wasn’t sure.

He opened a bottle of wine and settled himself with his laptop. He’d spent most of the afternoon writing. It had started out slowly, but as he’d worked, the characters had begun speaking to him. The things they told him hadn’t been in his plan for where the story was going to go, but they fit the situation he found himself and Nikki in, and his own feelings had begun to spill from his fingers as he wrote. It was right and it began to flow. By the time Allie called him to dinner, he’d added several chapters and a whole new dimension to the story, one that would never have occurred to him if it hadn’t reflected what he was himself feeling.

He’d turned down Dante’s invitation to go and see a movie so that he could continue the writing spurt he’d gotten into. His writing hadn’t been so clear or focused in years. No wonder insane people made the best authors, he told himself, grinning as he reread his last few pages. It took a certain amount of derangement to fall in love, much less to be able to write about how it felt. No matter what happened with Nikki, he would always be grateful to her for kick-starting his creative energy again.

* * * *

Nikki started awake, looking around to see what had snapped her out of her sleep. She had the feeling someone had called her name, but she heard nothing, not even voices in the hallway.

It must have been a dream, she told herself, looking over for the clock. It was completely dark outside and the clock showed two a.m. She tried to settle herself back down, but her eyes refused to close. There was her bottle of pills on the desk, next to a couple of plates of fruit, crackers, and cookies and a pitcher of water.

But she wasn’t in pain now, and it didn’t seem right to take the pills just to go back to sleep. Maybe she should read or try to write. She suddenly remembered what she’d been dreaming about. The characters in their book had been there at Clifftop, and they’d been talking to her very earnestly about the story. She dragged herself to a sitting position and reached for her notebook on the nightstand. At least her body wasn’t screaming at her anymore, although she was still very sore. She wrote down everything she could remember from her dream, then got up and limped to the bathroom, testing her balance and ability to get around.

When she came back out, she was even more wide awake. Moreover, she felt horribly guilty for not getting any writing done. But she couldn’t just get her laptop and start typing, especially since she was sure Kane would be writing tonight. She couldn’t do anything until she had a chance to discuss the new ideas with him.

She sat on the bed and frowned at the window. Only two o’clock. Maybe Kane was still up. She debated going to his room to see, but then she remembered she was still mad at him, although the reason wasn’t as clear to her as it had been before. Earlier it had seemed somehow important to let him know that she blamed him for the accident. Now, even though she wasn’t sure that she’d forgiven him, she had an urge to sit down and brainstorm more of the story.

There was no way she was going back to sleep tonight. Nikki came to a decision. She would go down the hall, past Kane’s room. If it looked like he was still up, she’d go in and discuss her new ideas with him. If not, she’d go downstairs and watch television for a little while. She stood up and tentatively made her way to the door.

As she approached Kane’s room, it became obvious that he was still up and working. His door was slightly open and a sliver of bright light spilled from it across the hallway. She slowed instinctively, grateful for the carpeting that kept her approach silent. Her heart began a faster, heavy rhythm, as if she had been sent to the principal’s office to be reprimanded for something. She heard a mumbling voice and stopped a few inches from the opening, putting a hand on the wall to steady herself. She leaned in as closely as she dared, wondering what he could be up to in there.

* * * *

Kane raised the pitch of his voice to sound like a woman. He knew he didn’t do a woman’s voice well, but at least it sounded better than reading the lines as a man. That sounded wrong on lots of different levels.

“‘I know it’s not your fault, but I’m going to blame you anyway,’ she said, glowering at Travis as if she would have preferred to see him slow-roasting over a pit of glowing coals.”

His voice went deeper than its normal tone. “‘You might as well blame me,’ Travis countered, striding forward until they were face to face. ‘While you’re at it, you can be mad at me for this, too.’ Before she could react he had picked her up and slung her over his knee, pushing her skirt up and swatting her hard on her bare ass.”

There was a small sound from outside in the hallway and Kane looked up, surprised. No one was ever up and around at this time of night. He knew Dante was usually asleep by midnight so he could get up early for his incomprehensible ritual of self-torture. He rose and went quietly to the door, not knowing what to expect but being completely unprepared for the sight of Nikki standing there, disheveled and apparently trying to hide a grin.

“Hello. What are you doing lurking in the hallway at this time of night?” He opened the door wider, inviting her in and waiting to see what her reaction would be. He was more nervous than he would have expected, not knowing if she was still angry with him about the accident.

She hopped in and he put a hand on her elbow to help her to the bed.

“Do you always do that?” She did smile now, although she only met his eyes for a second before looking away.