Yield (18 page)

The skin on her wrists tingled and Kate fluffed the front of her shirt because it was really warm in there. The other painting was a combination of oil and charcoal. A forest nymph entangled in vines, holding her to a tree. Like a submissive bound to a cross. She remembered what he said that first night about how he liked seeing a submissive on a cross. Holding the neck of her shirt against her mouth, she gazed at the painting.
 

“Open your jeans, Katey.”

Her eyes closed at his voice, the tone of command sliding through her. Lowering her shaking hands, she opened her jeans as she gazed at the shadow smudges on the nymphs body. Not shadows, not dirt. Marks from a cane against willing skin. It would’ve come from the tree. She wanted to be that nymph with an aching intensity, to feel the cool vines on her skin as they held her against the tree, the rough bark on her bare skin while she waited for him to deliver another strike to her body.

“Are you wet?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Oh Lord. Wetting her lips, she slid her hand down her stomach where a different kind of nerve fluttered away. Her breathing grew louder in his room as her fingers dipped beneath her panties and over the slick, aching folds of her sex. A knot on her bracelet rolled over her clit, making her gasp audibly. Her fingers were trembling when she lifted them up, her skin glistening with arousal.

“I have damage control to do, broken ground to heal, so I’m asking, do you consent, Katey?”

She nodded.

“Use your words, girl.”

“Yes.”

“Put your back to the wall so I can see you.”

So she could see him. She did as he ordered. He was still sprawled on his bed, his upper body canted up by his bent arms. Looking at him made her heart beat faster.

“Nothing like a pretty sub with her hand down her pants. Make yourself come.”

The words were so different than what he usually told her to do, which was hold back and not orgasm. Having those dark eyes watching her was intimidating. His gaze scanned her from head to toe in a slow way that made her feel like every inch of her had just been studied. He rolled off the bed in a graceful movement and crossed to where she leaned against the wall.

Doyle braced his hand on the wall above her head. Reaching down, he drew her hand out and kissed her fingers. “You’re not ready for this, are you?”

What did that mean? Of course she was.

“There’s hesitation and uncertainty in your eyes. I broke something. Come on.” Maintaining the hold on her hand, he led the way into the spacious bathroom and filled the tub that was before a floor-to-ceiling window. He left her sitting on the tub, the rumble and rush of water filling the silence. Glancing down at her bracelet, she fiddled with the closest knot. Was she hesitating with him? Turning her attention to the window, she took in the breathtaking view of the Strait of Georgia. She was in Doyle Kole’s house on Galiano Island. Not the penthouse where he crashed and took random girls from Edge, but in his home. This was his sanctuary. She knew that. You didn’t live on an island, even if it had other residents, if you weren’t looking to get away from everything else. The door clicked shut and he came in and squirted some bubble bath into the running water.

He set the red container on the tub’s edge and came over to her. She was drawn to her feet and he pushed her jeans and panties down. In the same economical way, he stripped her naked, then he picked her up, setting her in the tub. The sweet scent of artificial strawberries came to her and she reached for the container while bubbles grew around her. He had swiped it from his daughters if she went by the cartoon character on the front.

“Sit back,” he said as he pressed his fingertips to her chest, nudging her back. Heated water wrapped around her while he sat on the floor, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He dipped his fingers in the water and adjusted the temperature a bit, watching her as the tub continued to fill.

“Why am I here?”

“Here?” He rapped his knuckles against the side of the tub, then drew a circle around them both. “Or here?”

“Both.”

Doyle turned off the water, settling back against the wall. “Because you’re unsure of me but not to the point where you won’t be naked before me. Nice, by the way. There are no worries in the bath.”

“I’m not unsure,” she said as she scooped up a handful of bubbles, avoiding his intense stare that said he knew she was full of bullshit. She sighed as she made a fist, squishing the small frothy mountain. She had promised both him and herself that she’d be honest in this. She still wasn’t sure exactly what this was, but if she was here after this morning, that had to mean something. Right? “Okay, maybe I am.”

“Maybe you are. This morning you looked me dead in the eye and said red. I told you I’d always listen when you said stop. Do you want this to end? I can help you find a dom who is less of an asshole. It will piss me off, but I’ll do it.”

That made her look at him. At him, just not at the large body sitting on the floor, watching her. “Why would it piss you off?”

He rested his forearm on the tub, his fist tapping out a slow and steady rhythm. In the space between his knuckles the word BEAT was inked. For the first time, she wondered if it was for more than the drums, a secret little homage to kink. The knuckles on his right hand had tiny images of different drums. In one magazine she had read, he had once joked that they were his gangsta tattoos and were therefore his most innocuous ones. “I could spout a lot of bullshit, but the simple fact is that I’m a possessive bastard and I guard what is mine like Scrooge.”

In her chest, her heart made one hard knock in response before it began to race. “But you walked away from Claire.” His fist stopped its tapping and his thumb began to quietly drum on the tub.

“Yes.”

“I’m yours?”

His hand stilled completely. “Yes.” The force of his stare made her shift in the bath, the water lapping against the sides. She slid to the foot of the tub, putting them closer so she could look into his eyes.

“You think I’m yours.”

He leaned forward until only the wall of the tub was between them. “I
know
you’re mine.”

The bathroom that was as big as her bedroom shrank to the space of the tub. He ran his thumb over her lip; the back of his ring was warm from his skin. Reaching up, she caught his hand, lowering it so she could study his ring. “How did you know I did this?”

“Don’t move.” He left her in the tub but was back shortly. She watched as he stripped. The man needed to be naked all the time because he was a thing of beauty. His arms covered from fingers to shoulders in dark images so that barely any skin showed, hard muscles that her fingers ached to memorize and the unabashed jutting of his aroused cock made everything melt in her. He stepped into the tub and sat down on the side so she was between his spread legs. The sun that shone through the window kissed his skin as if even Mother Nature knew he was a thing of beauty that needed to glow. “Turn around.”

When she did, he drew her up so she had to shift to her knees. The press of his erection was like a hot brand between her shoulders and her nipples tightened at the sensation.

“Nice.” He wiped his hand over her left breast, teasing the swollen tip until an ache slid through her body and settled between her legs. “Take care of this.” He eased his ring off and she shook bubbles off her hand to hold it. Fingers combed through her hair and fisted hard, yanking her head back and dragging a surprised gasp from her. His face blurred briefly while a tension moved through her even as she felt her muscles melt away. “Open.” When she parted her lips, he tucked the cap of a marker between her teeth. “Don’t crack that. Why don’t you put that free hand between those pretty legs and ease the ache.”

No, Sir, and yes, Sir, please, she thought as he bent over her. The tip of the marker moved over her breast. A dampness that was warmer than the water greeted her fingers. The water shifted like an extra caress over swollen flesh.

“Don’t drop my ring.”

“No, Sir,” she mumbled around the cap. Her body jerked as he wrote over her nipple and her fingers teased her throbbing clit.

“Don’t make me fuck this up. Settle.”

Slippery fingers ventured over and around her clit and when she shifted, her knees slid on the slick tub.

“Settle, Katey.”

Being still was hard to do with him doing whatever to her breast, his stomach resting against her head and the presence of an erection that would not be ignored. When she stopped touching herself, he pinched her hard beneath her breast. “I didn’t tell you to stop. Work that clit.” The felt tip disappeared and he removed the cap from her mouth. He spun her around and with his hand still fisted in her hair, he guided her down so the thick head of his cock brushed over her lips. “Until you come, Katey girl. Don’t drop my ring.”

His hot skin was taut over the hardness and the salty pre-cum was almost cool against her tongue. Clutching his ring, she hooked her fist over the side of the tub, needing something to ground her. He maintained control, manipulating the speed in which she took him and the depth. When the teasing touches on her clit were no longer enough, she slid a finger in and he muffled her cry. He drew her off, guiding her up. Doyle’s mouth slanted over hers, kissing her as her orgasm broke. Doyle caught her under her arms and lifted her so she was on his lap, water dripping to the floor.
 

“Do you still have my ring?”

Nodding without really tracking, she opened her fist. He plucked it up and held it between his thumb and index finger, the black wood on the left side. With the curve of the ring it made the letter D. “Doyle.” He rolled it one hundred and eighty degrees. Sun shone through the two angled lines. “Kole.” He shifted the ring right side up. Two thin lines were gently etched into the wood from the tip. “Mann.”

He ran a finger over her breast. She looked down to see what he had drawn. There was a large autograph on her breast. Of a sorts. It was an upside down D with two lines angling out from the center for the K and to make it look like devil horns, two small lines came down from halfway between the lines. Doyle Kole. Unless you knew just a bit more in that in his birth name was Kolemann.

“That doesn’t explain how you…”

He flipped the ring around and there as gently etched into the ebony as the fine lines in the ring was KJ. How had he even noticed it? It was so tiny she had to use two magnifying glasses to engrave her mark. She had practiced it for days. She had left off the note because it simply hadn’t fit at that size.“Katey Jay. Now tell me you’re not mine.”

He slid his ring back on.

“How did you spot that?”

“I’m observant. What amazes me is that it’s a perfect fit.”

She ran her own thumb over the ring. “I’m observant,” she said as she ran her thumbnail in one groove.

“You’re talented. You on the pill?”

She nodded. Before she could process the question, he grabbed her hips and slid her forward. Clutching the back of his neck, she looked into his eyes as he eased into her. His eyes were so dark there was only a slight variation between his pupils and the iris. This close, she could see the inky black of his pupils dilate while his nostrils flared. “Oh yeah, you’re fucking mine.” He fisted his hand in her hair and kissed her as he took them both into the tub while he moved inside her.

Wrapping her legs around his hips, she rose up and sank down, feeling every inch of him inside her. “You said bare was a hard no.”

“I want me inside and outside you.” He cupped the breast he had autographed. Doyle brought her mouth to his again, kissing her deeply as he moved inside her. “Mine. You’re mine, Katey.”

Finally, she thought as his other hand gripped her ass, guiding her over him.
Finally she was someone’s.

****

With her feet tucked onto the seat of the chair under the blanket Doyle had tucked around her earlier, she watched him with his daughters. Apparently gathering around the fire pit was a common thing, even if it was a school night. The girls had given her cautious looks and she couldn’t blame them. She had seen way too many women revolve through Jace’s doors.
 

Doyle sat in the chair beside her and a guitar was balanced against him while he and Willow played and sang. His eldest had an amazing voice. It was crisp and clear with a touch of sweetness and a dash of smoke. Danielle was perched on the arm of his chair, leaning into him. Even though she wasn’t playing or singing, she seemed a part of the moment.

Witnessing it made the back of Kate’s eyes burn while her throat kept shrinking until it hurt to breathe. He so clearly adored his daughters, his love wrapped around them. Envy squeezed her heart until she feared it would be pulverized.

Did they have any idea how lucky they were? To not just know they were loved but to feel safe in it? They were a part of his life. An important part. She felt like her nose was pressed up against an icy window that fogged with every exhale. Even his ex-wife and Oz were a part of his life. This was a family.

Seeing it, sitting among them, made her feel like that moment in the trailer when Jace and Carl had come in and she had hidden, too afraid to make her presence known. So afraid of the unknown and wanting what was beyond her hidden panel so badly she could taste it in her mouth.

Doyle reached up and ruffled Danielle’s hair without seeming to miss a beat and Kate had to look away. All she had ever wanted was to feel that safe, that cherished. She pressed her nose into the blanket that smelled of wood smoke, pine and salt. Staring at the flames that licked over logs and sparked into the night sky, Kate tried really hard not to cry. Her cheeks hurt and her jaw ached from all that was boiling up inside. Her eyes closed as the voices of father and daughter in song wrapped around her, rubbing at old wounds she feared would never heal.

She was jealous of two little girls.

It was ridiculous, but true. She had never had this, never experienced it despite wanting it so bad. Now here she was, neck deep in it and yet again it wasn’t for her.
Don’t cry, don’t cry.
She breathed through her mouth into the blanket, afraid if it was through her nose she’d sniffle.