
Make Me Shiver
When Lacey loses control of her vehicle and finds herself trapped by ice and snow, she knows there's only one person to call for help. Unfortunately, Michael may cause more turmoil than relief. She's lusted for the gorgeous Dom ever since she first laid eyes on him. Trouble is, he doesn't do vanilla and she's not a submissive...or is she?
Michael's hungered for Lacey for months, so when he notices her fleeting glimpses and blush-stained cheeks as he rescues her from an altercation with a guardrail, he decides it's time to push the sultry beauty's boundaries...only to discover Lacey's not as reserved as she thinks.
Physical attraction blossoms into something neither anticipates, taking Michael and Lacey beyond kink, dominance and submission. Their newfound connection is strong. until a flame from Michael's past returns, shatters the fragile trust he and Lacey have only just developed and threatens to destroy something neither wants to surrender.
Ellora's Cave Publishing
Make Me Shiver
ISBN 9781419936814
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Make Me Shiver Copyright © 2011 Aline Hunter
Edited by Ann Leveille
Cover design by Syneca
Photography: RomanceNovelCovers.com
Electronic book publication December 2011
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora's Cave Publishing.
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I have to give a shout out to my husband, who is not only my best friend but my rock. To my critique partners and beta readers, who keep me on the right path. To my editor, who I've permanently dubbed The Divine Miss Ann, whose support, knowledge and dedication inspire me to think harder and write better. And lastly, to the readers who support my work and encourage me to keep doing what I love.
"If I die because of you, so help me God I'll make you regret the day you were born, Scott Barker." Lacey Walsh gripped the steering wheel and leaned forward, trying to see past a windshield obscured by large flakes of falling snow. "I'm so coming back to haunt your no-good, lowdown, dick-dipping ass. Death will look like a walk in the park compared to what I have planned for you, you cheating bastard."
Thirty minutes before, she'd gotten the shock of her life when she had decided to swing by Scott's office. Now she understood why he'd always wanted her to call ahead before she came for a visit.
"Asshole."
The image of Scott on his knees---his face buried in his secretary's crotch---flashed in her mind. Karen's golden head was limp on her shoulders, her massive, silicone-enhanced breasts bared to the world. Her hands grasped the copy machine she was seated on, manicured fingernails shining in the artificial office lighting as her soft whimpers accompanied the slurps of what Lacey could only imagine came courtesy of Scott's mouth and tongue.
"Skank."
Lacey cursed when she hit a patch of ice and the wheels rolled, causing the car to slide. Easing her foot off the gas, she waited until the wheels caught and she gained control. Living in the higher elevations of Tennessee meant snowy drives were dangerous. When winter weather advisories came, it was best to raid the grocery store and prepare for what could be days being snowed in. Fortunately her job granted her the freedom to remain trapped indoors during the snow and ice. Writing children's picture books allowed her to stay at home, work at her own pace and keep to herself. It was a fantastic way to earn a living.
Until you started dating the attorney working for your publisher and decided to take a drive into town to invite him over for the weekend.
Ugh, how ironic.
Here she was, ready to give it up, while he was getting his rocks off elsewhere. At least she'd never let him past second base. Just thinking of him coming to her after fucking Karen with his face, offering up a plate of sloppy seconds as a gift, made her physically ill.
Another slippery spot of ice sent the car veering to the left. She gripped the wheel and tried to bring the vehicle back to the road. Instead it plunged farther to the left, toward the guardrail. The airbag deployed the instant the bumper made contact and consequently gave way to the metal barrier. She screamed upon impact and the inflatable cushion slapped her in the face. The car came to a slow stop, the windshield wipers going strong as the motor sputtered and died. Her heart was hammering, her rapid, panicked breaths more like pants as adrenaline rushed through her and brought everything into focus.
Jesus. She really could have died. And for what? A man who enjoyed dipping his jimmy stick into God knew how many women?
Groaning, she shoved aside the slowly deflating bag and sagged into her seat when she saw the steam from the engine through a steady fall of snow against the windshield. Fabulous. While she didn't know much about engines, she had a pretty good feeling that even if the car started she'd never be able to drive the damn thing.
Could things possibly get worse?
She reached for her purse in the passenger seat, retrieved her phone and unlatched her safety belt. There was nothing like calling a tow truck during a snowstorm. Not only would they charge her double the fee, but she'd have to stay in town until the roads cleared. There was no way they'd take her up the mountain to her home, not if it was already icing over.
Opening her cell, she grumbled, "Scott, I hope you get a massive case of dick-rot and suffer miserably," and scrolled through the phone book, searching for the number she'd wisely programmed for emergencies just like this. When she got to the number she hesitated, a hot, undeniable flush settling over her.
Talk about serendipity.
She'd chosen Mike's Wrecker Service as her tow of choice for one reason---the owner, Michael Gilchrist. He was total hotness, a glorious specimen of man, and absolutely not her type. Although she was normally drawn to the powerful men in business suits with manicured nails, pressed slacks and regular haircuts, Michael had shown her that a dirt-under-his-nails working man had the power to blow every fantasy she'd ever had out of the water.
From the moment she'd seen him two months before cruising inside the family-owned-and-operated Food Mart---dressed casually in faded and torn blue jeans, a black T-shirt and worn work boots---she'd been smitten. Unfortunately, she hadn't even known who in the hell he was besides gorgeous and unforgettable. She had been too shy and nervous to approach him and introduce herself. Instead she had lingered behind aisles of cereal and gawked at him as he made his selections and strolled over to the checkout. It was like one of the romance movies she watched, where the heroine was too afraid to grow a pair. But she couldn't help it. It wasn't in her nature to strike up a conversation with a random Adonis in the frozen food section.
After he left she'd made a casual remark to the cashier and got a knowing grin and the man of her dreams' name. Michael Gilchrist, owner of Mike's Wrecker Service, a legend in his spare time and total eye candy. For days she had cursed her shyness and fear of rejection. At twenty-four, she wasn't exactly new to the dating game. What was wrong with going up, saying hello and asking for his number? Women did it all the time. It was a sign of the times. Because of her insecurity, she'd never know what might have been.
All because she was too afraid to grasp life by the balls.
Then one night, as if it were destined to be, Michael had strolled through the door of Haddie's while she'd been on her lonesome. One too many cosmopolitans had lowered her guard and loosened her tongue, and she'd found herself not only talking to the god himself but flirting with him as well. It had been going splendidly, until she'd been ripped away from the bar by her college best friend, newspaper sleuth and resident local, Candice Bradshaw. One trip to the ladies was all Candy had needed to warn Lacey about what Michael looked for in a relationship, and it wasn't just love, monogamy and vanilla nights between the sheets.
An electric charge ran down her spine as she remembered Candy's quickly spoken words.
Whips, bondage, dominance...submission.
As Candy spilled, Lacey had listened, stunned and disbelieving. Sure, Michael exuded an aggressive and alluring alpha vibe. But a Dom?
Even more surreal had been her reaction to the revelation. She had started to sweat, her nipples had tingled and hardened into points and an all-revealing gush of wetness had soaked her panties. For a moment she had imagined what it would be like.
He was sexy as sin but giving orders, demanding submission...
Holy Hell, it made her hot. Sadly, even more than that, it scared the shit out of her.
Keyed up, yet mortified, she'd ditched her newly brassed balls, returned to the bar and thanked Michael for the drink, and left despite his offer to drive her home. It was always better to be safe than sorry when it came to things like this, especially as a new resident in an extremely small town. Once word got out about anything, everyone knew. Yet even after finding a certain relief in her decision, a nagging regret ate at her for weeks and refused to go away. In the end, it was impossible to stop obsessing over one very unforgettable, and undeniably sexy, Michael Gilchrist.
How many times had she asked herself what would have happened if she hadn't left him that night? What if she'd stayed and listened to his heavy and alluring Southern timbre? What if she had taken him up on the offer of a drink, some flirty conversation and a ride that could have become something more? How far would things have gone?
Her fingers trembled as she stared at the name on the screen.
What would it be like to let Michael tie her up? Make her a willing slave to his pleasure? Could she allow a man that level of control? Would she enjoy being dominated for their mutual enjoyment? What if he wanted to take her to the club he frequented and put her on display for the entire world to see?
Her nipples peaked at the prospect and her pussy clenched. Yep, the interest was definitively there---as it had been since she started doing Google searches and watching videos of D/s on the net. Of course, this was Michael she was fantasizing about. With his tall, muscular frame, shoulder-length blond hair and glacier blue eyes. It wasn't fair that a man looked so damn good you wanted to eat him.
Exhaling raggedly, she acknowledged that even without the kink the temptation to learn what he was like in the sack was a sinful, and in her case unobtainable, fantasy.
She pressed send and pushed aside thoughts of something that would never happen. She wasn't Michael's type. He was sure to gravitate toward women with similar interests. Women who wore leather, rode Harleys and liked being tied up in their spare time. He'd never be interested in someone like her. An average woman who watched The Price Is Right reruns, ate her ice cream straight out of the carton and preferred loose cotton skirts and sneaks to skintight jeans and platform heels.
"Mike's Wrecker, this is Jacob."
A pang of disappointment struck when Michael didn't answer. Not that Jacob Lewis was anything to smirk at. Pleasant View's resident mechanic was also a renowned bachelor who wooed the ladies but refused to settle down.
"Hi, Jacob. It's Lacey Walsh," she said, oddly deflated. "I need a tow."
"Hello, Lacey." His soft chuckle rasped into the phone. "I kind of figured that. Where are you?"
She quickly gave him directions and snapped the phone closed after she was instructed to remain in her car and wait. Settling into her seat, she palmed the cell and tugged her coat around her shoulders.
It was just as well that Michael didn't answer. Coming off the disaster that was Scott Barker, it was best she get her kicks from erotic romance novels followed by some quality time with her vibrator. There was nothing worse than getting herself worked up only to take the lonely trip back home to her computer screen, Twitter and Facebook and dream about what might have been.
Wasn't that the kicker? Things that occurred in books never happened in real life. There were no tall, dark and handsome strangers who were faithful, gainfully employed and romantic. There were only men who loved you, fucked you and left you high and dry. And when it was all over, if you were lucky, you were left with a broken heart versus a dried-up bank account, an STD or enough emotional damage to make sure you never made the same mistake again.
Nope, when it came down to it there was one universal truth shared by single women the world over: You could always depend on something that only required batteries and decent wrist action to provide adequate, if mildly disappointing, sexual satisfaction.
Who needed a man?
"Mike, are you there? Come in."
Michael snagged the microphone from the CB and lifted it to his mouth. "I'm here. What do you need?" He released the small circular button and listened, hoping like hell he didn't have to make a detour. After giving his last unfortunate client a tow to the closest tire shop, he'd hoped to finish up for the night. Too bad heavy snow meant business would be booming, and the temperature wasn't supposed to rise until the morning.
"I need a tow up on Merril Mountain."
That was heading in the opposite direction. If he took the call he wouldn't make it home for an hour or more. "Radio Pat. He was in that area last time I checked."
"You might want to take this call."
"Why is that?"
The line crackled with static when Jacob answered, "It's Lacey."
Lacey. Damn.
His heart accelerated as his cock came to life, stirring and straining against his jeans. The name alone did all kinds of things to him---things he didn't like to think about. From the first time he'd seen the newest Pleasant View resident in her billowy knee-length skirt, conservative blouse and Keds sneakers, he'd felt an instant attraction. She was a natural beauty, perhaps a decade or so younger than his thirty-five years, with beautiful waist-length mahogany hair, a heart-shaped face, full and lush lips and the most exotic pair of grass-green eyes he had ever seen.
Everyone had noticed when she moved into town. It had been impossible not to. She was well-known for writing children's stories, and it had been as if a celebrity had arrived in their midst. Sure, most of the fans were mothers with small children but it didn't take long for the rest of the community to take notice. With the way she looked, she had the single male populace standing in line for her signature at local book signings in the hopes they might also walk away with her phone number or a night in her bed.
"I'll call Pat," Jacob said, breaking apart his thoughts. "He's free at the moment."
"No," he snapped into the CB, livid at the thought of the town charmer giving Lacey a ride. Pat would try to wrangle her out of her panties the minute her perfectly rounded ass hit the passenger seat in his truck.
Striving for calm, he said evenly, "I'll take care of it."
There was laughter in Jacob's voice when he responded. "I figured you would."
Sliding the receiver back into its appropriate slot, Mike downshifted and turned the rig around. His body was on fire, amped up for what he couldn't have, and his now fully engorged dick pounded miserably. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman he'd envisioned having more than casual sex with.
Too fucking long.
Beginning a relationship was never easy, but adding BDSM into the mix made things far trickier. He'd sworn off relationships entirely after the bitter fallout with his ex that had left him emotionally drained and exhausted, unwilling to take the risk of entering into anything remotely similar. It was almost impossible to find what he was looking for in a woman. Head games were too draining, and trying to find someone who was willing to be totally open, honest and trusting was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
Inadvertently, his thoughts drifted back to Lacey. The first time they met, he'd believed she might be different. She'd been a breath of fresh air, opening up to him without any reservations.
When he'd moseyed up to her at Haddie's and offered to buy her a drink, her mannerisms and fleeting glimpses told the Dom in him that she was a born submissive. Her nature was sweet, pleasing and delightful. He'd been certain she felt the connection. She hadn't shied away from his teasing touches, her cheeks blushing beautifully as he'd casually run his finger along her jaw to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Their conversation had been relaxed and comfortable---the beginning of something extraordinary starting to take place.
Until Candice Bradshaw had arrived, whisked Lacey away to the bathroom and put a wrench in what he'd hoped might be a changing point in his life.
A white-hot wisp of anger stirred his blood. He wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel in a crushing, vise-like grip, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. One trip to the ladies' room and Lacey had reappeared, apologized for having to leave and bid him a good night. When he attempted to offer her a ride home she had declined, refusing to meet his eyes as she paid her tab and slipped away. It didn't take a genius to know what Candice had told her---not that it was a secret. Several of the regulars at Haddie's frequented the exclusive BDSM club Fantasia, in Nashville.
Including the snitch herself---not that Candice would own up to it. He'd gotten a firsthand glimpse of what the investigative reporter would do when she was down on her luck, even if it meant infiltrating a BDSM club to get the lowdown on a story.
At first he'd assumed Lacey was nervous about his dominant predisposition and had considered giving her a call to test the waters. It was natural for a woman who hadn't been introduced to the scene to be frightened by the prospect of exploring her sexual boundaries. Then he'd learned she started dating Scott Barker. It wasn't any wonder she wasn't interested and had blown him off. What did a mechanic who drove a tow truck and had a taste for kink have over an attorney who owned a Jag and was as vanilla as an ice-cream cone?
Apparently not a damn thing.
This was no fucking good. He shouldn't be traveling out of his way to save Lacey. It was going to be absolute hell and he had no one to blame but himself. Once he saw her, those longings would rise to the surface all over again. Like a dog who knew it would be kicked but just wanted to be petted, he'd smile, play nice and go home empty-handed.
Even in the heavy snow, it only took twenty minutes to arrive at the scene. No one was out and the roads were turning slushy. Her car was wedged into the railing, the tires buried in white midway to the hubcaps. As he pulled behind the older model Camry his headlights shone into the car and he saw a head dart up from the driver's seat. Just knowing it was her stirred passions that were dangerous for them both.
"Shit," he muttered, staring at the car covered in glistening ivory. It was late, they were on a dangerous and slippery stretch of road, and climbing into the snow to secure the winch to her car would be hell. This wouldn't be a simple tow. He'd have to take her into town, come back for her car and face her not once, but twice.
He pressed the emergency brake button on the dash and left the motor running as he unlatched his seat belt. After he opened the door he jumped down, turned and closed it behind him. Several deep breaths in the frigid winter air cooled him down, taking the edge off his lust and extinguishing the fire in his blood. He'd always been polite to Lacey since that night at Haddie's, and he wasn't going to start being an asshole now. Five long strides took him to her door. Her eyes flared wide when she saw his face and her lips parted ever so slightly.
Could it be? Was she happy to see him?
Of course she's happy, he berated himself. She called for a wrecker and now you're here!
She cracked the door open. "Michael?"
"Hi, darlin'." He couldn't help but smile, warmed by her voice, the use of his entire given name and the curiosity in her gaze. "I see you've managed to get yourself in a spot of trouble. Don't you know better than to drive on these roads when a storm is coming in?"
"I do now." She grinned sheepishly, cheeks turning an alluring shade of pink.
He stood back and gave her room to climb out. She was dressed in jeans, fur-lined boots that came to mid-calf and an enormous tan-colored coat that swallowed her willowy form. Once she had her massive purse in place over her shoulder she closed the door and moved closer. The moment she neared he smelled the delectable perfume she wore, a mixture of jasmine and linen. Sexual need hit him like a punch to the gut, and he took a step back.
So much for keeping his mind on work and not the woman in front of him.
She stopped, frowning slightly. "Is everything okay?"
Shaking his head, he answered in a half-truth. "We're not going to be able to tow your car out of here until the temperature rises and the sun melts off some of the snow. With the visibility getting worse, it's a dangerous spot to turn the rig to pull you out."
"Oh."
She nibbled on her bottom lip and his cock returned to life, becoming engorged once again, altering the comfort of his jeans. Shit, things could definitely get worse. So much for the cold cooling him down.
She peered up at him. "So what do we do?"
We go to my place, I strap you to my spanking bench and I warm that pretty little ass of yours until you're begging me to fuck you senseless.
"First we get you inside my truck," he said quickly, attempting to steer his mind away from the vision of her bound, naked and ass up in the air. "Come on. It's cold as hell out here."
He walked her to the passenger side of the truck, opened her door and waited until she was safely inside before he closed it behind her. Then he went to her car, flipped on the hazard flashers, removed her keys and locked the doors. When he returned to his truck and climbed in, Lacey had her hands in front of the air vents, wriggling her fingers.
He took a moment to appreciate the scene. She was not only sexy but adorable. It didn't seem fair to waste her on someone as conceited and uptight as Scott Barker. The hotshot lawyer wouldn't know the first thing about exciting her, pleasing her or appreciating her as she deserved. He probably didn't even have sex with the lights on to enjoy Lacey's body, preferring quick and fast bunny rabbit sex so she couldn't see how small his dick truly was.
Just let it go. Thinking about what you'll never have will only make this harder.
Resigned, he settled in, buckled his seat belt and accepted the fact that it just wasn't in the cards. "I'm not sure if I can get you into the city, but I can drive you into town if you'd like. The roads are salted and passable for the time being."
"The city?" She glanced at him, fingers going still.
"Did Scott move?"
At first she seemed shocked to learn he knew who she was dating. Her mouth opened, closed, and she frowned at him oddly. Just as quickly her green eyes narrowed and her plush lips thinned.
"I'm not seeing Scott anymore."
His heart faltered before it started to race and his dick hardened like a rock as blood rushed from one head to the other. She wasn't seeing the asshole. That meant Scott had either fucked it up, or Lacey wasn't into uptight businessmen who thought money made the man. Either way, it made his mood a hell of a lot lighter. He tried not to let his surprise and interest in the statement show.
"That's too bad."
"No," she replied in a level tone that told him it wasn't open to discussion, "it isn't."
The CB crackled and Jacob's voice came through the speaker. "Mike, are you there?"
Grateful for the distraction, Michael snagged the receiver and glanced at Lacey before he responded. "I'm here."
"There's a bad pileup on back four-forty. Buxom's and Twill's are already en route. Even with Pat they're going to need an extra set of hands. After you finish with Lacey can you head that way?"
As he turned to pose the question, Mike knew he didn't have to ask Lacey if the trip was all right with her. Concern was etched all over her face, her green eyes darkening into a brown shade of hazel. Damn, her face was so expressive, just as it had been the first night he walked up and introduced himself to her. He would be able to decipher so much about her from that alone.
Whether she was experiencing pleasure or pain, excitement or fear...
He ripped his eyes away from her and studied the glowing gauges in the dash. Fuck. This was not the time or place for this shit. Not with her so close he could feel the warmth radiating from her body, smell the sweetness of her perfume mingling with the floral scent of her shampoo.
Clearing his throat, he hoped he'd be able to keep his voice steady. "Do you mind tagging along? It's probably not a sight you'll want to see."
She smiled, shaking her head. "It's not like I have anywhere else I need to be."
As he informed Jacob that Lacey's car was too dangerous to tow, he wondered what Lacey would say if he told her she was completely wrong. There was one place she needed to be. It was the one place he'd been dying to see her.
On her knees, at his feet.
Lacey watched Michael as he helped clear away the last of the wreckage from the horrific four-car pileup. The ambulances had departed just as they arrived, leaving behind demolished vehicles, glass, metal and rubber. Three other trucks had been on the scene when they got there and had already started pulling the mangled wreckage onto the backs of their rigs. Mike had quickly pulled into place, gotten to work on the last one and loaded it up before clearing the icy road.
As he told the other drivers goodbye, she soaked Michael in. Even in oil-splattered jeans, a snow-drenched jacket and damp hair, he looked delectable. Her heart began to melt, as did other parts of her anatomy as she watched him walk, each step graceful and sleek, like a jungle cat. Heavens, he was sex on a stick. So damn hot he made her pussy throb and her nipples ache.
How in the world had she ever found business suits attractive when denim could hug a man's ass so perfectly?
Nodding and saying something she couldn't hear, he turned from the other men as he pulled off his work gloves and started walking toward the truck. She sat down and snapped her seat belt in place just as he opened the door and climbed up.
"Damn, it's cold," he grumbled, tossed the gloves on the seat between them, and brought his hands to his lips to blow into his clasped fingers.
Talk about an understatement. Even inside the truck with the heat at full blast she could still feel the chill seeping through the windows. "I don't know how you stand it out there."
He lowered his hands and grinned. "You get used to it."
"I don't know if I'll ever get used to it." She shivered as she touched the windshield and felt the bitter bite coming from the other side. "I'm too accustomed to the sun."
"You wouldn't know it."
Turning to him, she cocked a brow in question. "Why's that?"
"Your skin's so pale," he answered, studying her closely, his eyes piercing and shockingly bright inside the darkened cabin.
As if he were imagining her pale naked body without clothes.
She blushed and looked away, staring at the air vent. Good God. So much for being cold. She was burning up now, her pussy soaking wet, and all it took was a look, his voice and a bit of wishful thinking to make it happen. She could feel the heaviness of Michael's stare, his eyes like phantom hands that left an impression where they lingered.
After a tense moment, he grabbed the microphone from the radio and brought it to lips as she found the courage to peer in his direction.
"Jacob, are you listening? Come back."
The radio crackled. "I'm here."
"I'm bringing one in."
"Ten-four."
Michael slid the radio back into place and glanced at her. "After we drive this in I can take you to a hotel. Is that all right with you?"
She was tempted to tell him it was fine so long as he planned on joining her. Instead she nodded, smiled and tried to pretend he didn't light an inferno under her skin that only burned brighter in his presence. He put the vehicle in gear and they were back on the road. She forced herself not to glance over too often, too aware of him in the suddenly small confines of the cabin. She could smell a hint of his cologne, something that was light but woodsy, and wondered what he would smell like with her nose pressed against his chest, his skin resting just under her lips as his heartbeat sounded against her ear.
Although it was well over thirty minutes until they made it to the garage, staring at her sexy, silent driver made it seem a hell of a lot shorter. The first building was the actual garage. The large brick house situated several yards behind it was Michael's home. She'd driven by his place once on a whim, curious about where he lived and worked. It wasn't flashy but homey and welcoming, which made the way she felt about him all the more confusing.
How could he possibly want a wild woman who liked to be spanked and hog-tied but live in a house that was obviously constructed for a family?
"Lacey?" Michael's voice broke her out of her reverie. "Do you mind if I stop by the house first?"
"Sure," she answered automatically, uncaring of what he'd asked. She gave him a cheery smile and hoped like hell he wasn't aware of what she was thinking.
He returned her smile with a devilish grin, flashing a set of dimples that made her breath catch and her womb clench. "I won't take long. You can kick back, relax and grab anything you'd like from the kitchen."
Kitchen?
She struggled to keep the smile in place as he drove. Emergency lights came on as they approached the concrete circle of his driveway and stopped at the foot of the brick stairs that led to a massive porch complete with a matching pair of egg-white rocking chairs.
Michael shut off the engine, removed the keys and exited the truck. She watched, wide-eyed, as he came around and opened her door. She felt her stomach heave as the reality of the situation struck. He wasn't stopping by to pick up something or make a pit stop. He was actually inviting her inside his home.
"Coming?"
"Yes," she whispered and started to climb down.
When she stumbled he reached up to steady her, grasping her forearm. She gasped as she looked into his face, so close she could feel the delicious warmth of his breath against her mouth. Up close his eyes were the clearest aquamarine, absolutely breathtaking. She couldn't tear her gaze away, even as he moved closer, then closer. His face stopped just before his nose brushed hers, his fingers at her elbow rubbing in gentle, lazy circles against her coat.
"You have to be careful, darlin'. That first step is always tricky."
Her eyelids fluttered at the husky invitation in his voice. She wanted him to close those scant millimeters, to bring his face down, to kiss her until her toes curled. It wouldn't take more than a nudge to accomplish the goal, if she was just willing to move a bit closer.
He smells so damn good...
When he released her she almost stumbled again. She righted herself and tried to calm her nerves, her heart beating a mile a minute. What was once dampness between her legs was now a full-fledged tsunami. Her body was trembling, her knees were weak and she was so damn flustered she couldn't breathe. The heavy knots in her stomach became a gentle caress of butterfly wings, creating anticipation where none belonged.
She was grateful when he turned and walked ahead of her. Not only for the view but because it also gave her a moment to restore her composure. How many times did she have to remind herself that she wasn't his type? Michael was as likely to be as interested in her as he would be one of the elderly widows who played bingo at the community center on a Friday night. Unless, of course, she came clean about her newfound fantasies. Fantasies she still wasn't sure she was prepared to explore.
Michael opened the door and stepped inside just as she crossed the porch. Flipping a switch to the right, he flooded the dark wooden floor and ceiling with light. There was a long matching table to the right alongside a coat rack. She gawked when he removed his jacket, placed it on a peg and proceeded to pull his navy sweatshirt over his head. A wave of desire spread through her as she finally set eyes on the body she'd dreamed about. Only the reality was so much better than she ever could have envisioned.
There was no hair on his corded chest. A trail of honey blond descended just below his navel into his jeans. His stomach was defined, the six-pack abdominal muscles lean, the line of his hipbones notable and incredibly sexy. His sinewy muscles seemed the result of hard work rather than time spent in the gym, his arms and torso trim and cut rather than massive and bulky. A large tribal tattoo graced his left biceps while a serpent marked the skin from shoulder to elbow on the right. As he turned the remainder of the way to face her, he reminded her of a wayward Viking---stunning, beautiful and dangerous.
Talk about the ultimate bad boy.
Seconds seemed to pass like minutes as their eyes met and they studied each other. She knew her cheeks were flushed, her lips were parted and her chest was heaving. The strangest thing was he seemed to be enjoying her reaction, basking in it somehow. Before he spoke, he grinned, causing her insides to become liquid as her knees threatened to buckle.
"Feel free to explore the house. There's food in the fridge and wine on the counter."
Afraid her voice would reveal exactly how she felt, she nodded. Right then, if he had asked her to bend over the table, bare her ass and let him do as he wished, she would have. The thought alone created another tidal wave of moisture in her panties, causing her to squirm.
He took a step toward her, then another, then another. When he stopped he reached out, cupped her chin and forced her to meet his level stare. "If you decide to go down to the basement, make sure you leave the door open behind you. There's a security lock that activates the moment it closes and you won't be able to get out." He swept his thumb along her lower lip and a tendril of excitement created flutters in her belly. "Understand?"
"Uh-huh," she breathed, wishing like hell he'd end her suffering and allow her to learn what he tasted like by closing the distance and kissing her long and hard.
The loss of his presence was gut-wrenching. She felt her stomach fold in on itself as he let her go, turned on his heel and walked away. She stood there as his heavy footsteps indicated he was going upstairs, staring down the hallway until the rush of water through pipes overhead indicated he was taking a shower.
Dear Heavenly Father.
Right now he was naked and climbing into steamy water. She imagined she was a bar of soap, drifting over his abdomen, outlining the indentions of his six-pack, drifting into the flaxen hair below...
Snapping out of her daze, she placed her purse on the floor, removed her coat and placed it alongside his. She walked down the hallway. Directly in front of her was a large set of stairs leading to the second floor. To the right was an open door. A pool table and television were visible from where she stood. To the left was a sizeable kitchen with stainless steel appliances, a large center island and stools placed discreetly beneath. His home was immaculately clean and notably masculine, with brown and black fabrics throughout.
It figured. Scott was a total slob without a maid to pick up the shit he left tossed around. Michael, who worked long hours and did his own laundry, didn't so much as have a dirty sock or wrinkled towel in sight.
Walking into the kitchen, she peered into the formal dining room, which had an expensive dark wood table and matching chairs. The crystal bowl situated in the center of the silken runner was stocked with bananas and red apples.
Good lord. Who would have thought Michael had this kind of money?
Eventually she wandered into the entertainment room. The large pool table took up the center of the area and intricate stained-glass fixtures were situated directly above it. The large plasma television was affixed to the wall in front of a huge black leather couch. To the left of the room was an open door with stairs going down.
The entrance to the basement.
She walked over and studied the numerical pad above the knob. Excitement and curiosity warred with nervousness and uncertainty. What would he possibly have down there that would necessitate having a lock on the door?
"You know exactly what's down there," she muttered.
The way Michael looked at her when he warned not to shut the door behind her told her all she needed to know. No doubt his playroom was down there. The place he brought women to satisfy his dominant urges. Would it be like the ones she'd seen surfing the 'net? A dark, clinical-looking place? Or would it be warm and inviting, setting up some kind of a scene?
Temptation and inquisitiveness combined, battling for control over her sense of logic. Everything was so clean and tidy upstairs; surely it was the same below. How far did he take his sexual games? Was it a casual thing he did with a consenting partner from time to time? Or was the space special to him?
Listening for the sounds of the shower, she glanced at the ceiling. She had plenty of time to rush downstairs, take a peek to satisfy her curiosity and hurry back before he noticed. If she was quick enough about it, she could come back upstairs, pour a glass of wine and pretend she'd been waiting for him in the kitchen the entire time.
He never had to know.
She quietly tiptoed down the first set of stairs and took a right onto a shorter set. The cooler temperature struck her first, shocking her slightly. As she lifted her head and gazed into the large and open room, it took her a moment to properly compute what her eyes were seeing.
The walls were painted in a soft, muted cream, while the floor was a darker stained wood. All along the left wall, dangling from hooks, were floggers, whips and straps of various lengths. On a shelf just above them were dildos and plugs in an assortment of colors. Some looked like hers, while others flared oddly at the bottom or had an extension near the base that expanded upward. A bench made of wood and what appeared to be cushioned black leather was against the far wall, next to a large four-poster bed. A giant St. Andrew's cross was bolted into the floor and ceiling on the right, the polished wrist and ankle restraints shining brightly in the space.
Directly in the center of the room was a large table with leather straps; the metal mechanical device beneath indicating it could be moved and shifted. Right above it was a huge mirror giving a full view of the table and room below.
She expected to feel shock or fear. Instead warmth spread throughout her body as she walked around the room. Starting at the left, she studied the floggers and devices on the shelves, slowly worked her way to the bed with the clean linens and matching pillows and finally made her way to the cross.
For a moment she imagined what it would be like to be naked inside the chilly room, the crisp air caressing her skin, whispering against her peaked nipples as her knees ached from the unyielding hardness of the wood flooring. She closed her eyes and pictured Michael standing above her, gloriously naked, his cock long, hard and ready. He'd tell her what he wanted, and she'd give it to him. There wouldn't be fast foreplay followed by unsatisfying sex that lasted less than five minutes. Instead she would give, Michael would take and they'd spend hours exploring and tending to each other's pleasure.
Her body hummed, going hot and tingly as images of him sliding that unrelenting velvet steel between her lips caused her to shiver. Would he order her to stay still? To keep her hands at her sides? Fuck her mouth instead of allowing her to pleasure him? Several of the stories that turned her on involved just that, and envisioning Michael doing so made her skin prickle in anticipation as her sex tightened.
As she opened her eyes, she stepped toward the table in the center of the room. She touched the red leather, the pads of her fingers skimming across the smooth and unmarred surface. It was firm enough to be uncomfortable, yet cushioned so that it could be utilized for a lengthy stretch of time. She wondered exactly how it was used, since it was long enough to rest her entire body on and high enough to be bent over. Leaning against it, she pressed her pelvis into the wood and rocked her hips.
This place was so unlike what she imagined. It wasn't dirty or raunchy but was more of a lover's haven where you could play out your wildest fantasies. The décor was tasteful, the colors creating a feeling of security.
Michael's arm wound around her waist and, although she gasped, it was due to surprise rather than shock. It had dawned on her shortly after she came down the stairs that the walls were probably soundproofed, making the noises of the shower impossible to hear. Deep down she knew a wild, shameless and uninhibited part of her wanted him to find her here, was curious as to what he would say or do.
She trembled when his lips brushed the outer shell of her ear, quivered as his breath caressed her skin. His voice was husky and deep, the sound that of sheer sexual enticement. "I have two questions, angel."
"O-Okay," she stammered, finding it challenging to breathe with him so close, his nearness effectively trapping her in place
"Why did you run that night at Haddie's?"
It was a fair question but still had the power to mortify her. She'd been foolish listening to Candice, treating Michael like some kind of sexual pervert only to discover through her own exploration and research that the notion of submitting to him captivated and excited her. Hell, it was a part of the reason she'd accepted Scott's interest in her in the first place, in a pretense of attempting to be normal.
Normal. Now that was pathetic in hindsight. Who was normal anyway?
"Candice told me about...she said that..."
"Go on." He nuzzled her neck, making it difficult to think clearly. "Tell me."
"When I found out about the BDSM stuff---" She tried to put her thoughts in order but it wasn't easy with the inescapable presence of the man behind her. "I was shocked and confused. I didn't know what to do or how to feel, so I left."
"Good girl. Now for my second question."
She nodded, knees weak, heart racing. His mouth made solid contact with her earlobe, his lips gently pressing along the surface, sending ripples of heat to her pussy. He nipped at her ear and soothed the diminutive sting with flicks of his tongue, causing her to moan.
"Do you want to run now?"
Michael waited for her answer, cock hard and balls drawn tight. From the moment Lacey entered his home, he'd decided to push her and see if she was as willing as her eyes, body and mannerisms indicated she was. He'd noticed her fleeting glances in the truck, had been fully aware of the way she'd wrung her hands each time he'd glanced over and caught her studying him with a recognizable fire in her eyes.
Picturing her while he stripped naked and washed away the filth of wreckage and snow had driven him crazy. He had so many images in his mind of the ways he'd love to play with her, bring her to climax and sate the longing he'd experienced the last few weeks. He had hoped she'd come to his playroom, had prayed that she would take a chance despite his veiled warning of what existed in the basement.
Her reactions in the foyer had told him she wanted him. Her eyes had been cloudy, her breathing shallow. He'd known she had wanted to kiss him. She'd given him plenty of time to close the distance and capture her lips in a way that would lead to something more. Despite the urge, he had left her needy and confused and rushed to the shower. He took longer than necessary once he'd been nestled inside the safety of the bathroom, wanting to give her more time to explore and consider this side of her sexuality. The fact that she hadn't bolted the moment she walked into the room told him she was interested but he wasn't certain if it was curiosity or something more that intrigued her.
"No," she finally answered, her voice low and raspy. "I don't want to run."
He felt the slight shaking of her body via the arm wrapped snugly around her waist, the weight of her breasts tempting him to strip her bare and keep her that way. He had to rein in his own impulses as he closed his eyes and imagined himself ordering her to undress as he watched. He wanted her to reveal herself slowly, removing her clothing piece by piece, and watch her fingers tremble as she tested and overcame her inhibitions.
"Do you want to play, Lacey?" he murmured thickly. "Do you want to stay and see where the night takes us?"
"I don't...I mean...I think..." She took a deep breath, as though his question was the hardest she'd ever answered. Poor thing. She was obviously twisted in knots. "Yes," she finally whispered, "I want to stay."
"Then there are a few things you need to know." He opened his eyes and pressed into her bottom, allowing her to feel the hard outline of his cock through the flannel pants he'd slipped on when he left the shower. She gasped but didn't tense, remaining soft and pliant in his arms. "If you want to stop and talk about anything we're doing, say yellow. If you don't like what we're doing, if something hurts in a way it's not intended, or you want to end everything all together, say red. Do you understand?"
He felt her chest go still, her heartbeat palpable against his arm. As much as he hated giving her the option to leave or a safe word, he knew he had to.
"You can leave right now if that's what you want. No harm, no foul. I won't hold it against you. I can take you to town and we can forget this ever happened. The decision is entirely yours."
"It's just...it's just that...I..."
He rubbed his jaw along her cheek. "I need you to be honest with me. Tell me what you're thinking. That's the beauty of this. There are always boundaries to push and limits to test but you have the final say. You understand that, don't you? Without your absolute trust and consent, there is nothing for me."
"I'm afraid." Her words were feather soft but he heard them just the same.
He stilled, worried that he might have read her wrong. "What are you afraid of? Me?"
"No, not of you." A hesitation and she confessed, "I'm afraid of feeling like this, of wanting these kinds of things."
His dick became harder at the admission. Did this wet dream of a woman have a kink of her own? Could it be possible that the submissive tendencies he knew existed were rising to the surface? Or perhaps she wasn't as green as he thought. Maybe it wasn't fear of the unknown but experience in D/s that had sent her running from Haddie's as though the devil were on her ass.
"Have you experimented in the lifestyle before?"
Inhaling deeply, she shook her head. "I only know about the things I researched online."
His cock pulsed against her ass, the aching throb in harmony with the pulsing of his heart. She'd been researching BDSM online. Was that before or after she met him?
"What kinds of things?" She went tense in his arms and he gripped her firmly, pulling her into his chest as he warned, "No, Lacey. Don't hide from me. You have the chance to explore, to learn what it is that you want, but only if you're honest with me."
He lowered his right arm and palmed her mound at the same time as he lifted the hand at her waist, cupped her breast and rolled his thumb across the nipple. The small point went hard against his fingers and the skin surrounding it pebbled.
"Things that I was raised to believe are wrong." Her voice was throatier, sexier and laced with passion.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting this. Everyone is different. There is no right or wrong when it comes to what you want and need sexually."
Sliding his hand along her jeans, he deftly opened the top button and worked the zipper down. Her breath caught when his fingers skimmed across her quivering skin and flitted over her belly. He came to the edge of her lacy panties and paused for a moment before dipping below, seeking the prize within. She was completely bare, her pussy nothing more than skin, heat and a cock-rocking slickness. As much as he loved teasing soft curls, tender skin he could easily access made things a lot more pleasurable and interesting.
"You're so wet, baby." Carefully he slid his finger along the seam, following the outline of her labia, until his finger was coated in her cream. She groaned, shifting her hips. "You feel so good and ready for me. How can that possibly be wrong?"
He slid his finger into the slick mouth of her cunt, stifling a groan of his own when her pussy surrounded his finger in a satiny grip as he advanced until he was third-knuckle deep. She was so tight and hot, positively drenched for him. If her mind was saying no, her body was screaming yes.
"Michael." She parted her legs when he rotated his wrist, searching for the sweet spot just inside her snug walls as he brought his thumb to her clit. "That feels so good."
"Good girl," he crooned, encouraging her. "Tell me what pleases you."
He rotated his thumb around the nub, careful to keep his touch light, rubbing the pads of his fingers against that most sensitive inner velvet. Right now wasn't about giving her release. It was about proving he could give her pleasure despite her reservations. He plunged into her depths gently, keeping firm pressure until he found the spot he was searching for. She rested her head on his chest, breathing loudly as he continued. He caressed her once, twice and pulled his hand away. He slowly slid his fingers from her heat and removed them from the confines of her panties.
"Why did you stop?" There was confusion, as well as hurt, in her voice.
He turned her around, bringing them chest to chest, and placed one hand on either side of her face. Her vibrant, emerald green eyes were glossed over and her lips were parted.
"I'm not a vanilla man. I've tried to maintain relationships with women who didn't understand my need but they never lasted. This is a part of who I am. If you think that's something you can handle, I'd love nothing more than to show you how wonderful it can be between us. If you can't, it'll be harder than hell but I'll let you go."
She hesitated, breaking free of her arousal. "Do you really want to tie me up and spank me?"
It was hard not to laugh at the way she said it, as if she were afraid of his response. He managed to keep a straight face. "Have you ever been tied up and spanked?"
She shook her head.
"Have you thought about it?"
She started to nod and he stopped her. "Answer me."
Her face turned a lovely shade of pink. "I've thought about it."
"Does the thought excite you?"
Her cheeks went from pink to bright cherry-red.
Gorgeous.
"Do we have to talk about this?"
"Yes, we do." Palming her cheek, he stroked the outer curve of her mouth. "I have to know what turns you on. This isn't just about me. This is about us, achieving the greatest possible pleasure and satisfaction from each other."
"Yes, it excites me."
"And it scares you too, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Another lengthy silence and her eyes lowered until her gaze appeared to be focused on his nose. "Because I'm afraid to give you control, to let go of myself. I'm afraid to..."
"Trust me?"
"Yes."
"You can always trust me. I'm not perfect but I'm always honest. No matter what happens here, you decide how far it goes. I give you my word." He grinned. "And a little bit of fear is a good thing. It adds to the excitement."
Her gaze flicked to his mouth. She focused on his lips, then her attention drifted back to his eyes. "Michael, will you do something for me?"
He grinned, unable to deny her. "Right now I'm yours to command."
"Kiss me."
It was harder than hell not to claim her lips as he wanted---harsh and demanding instead of gentle and fleeting---when he finally sampled her sweetness, offering her a few soft laps of his tongue instead of a full-blown assault. She tasted better than he'd dreamed, and her lips were softer than silk. He allowed a touch of rawness to overtake him for a brief moment, devouring her mouth as he held her face immobile in his grasp, asking her to accept this dominance from him if nothing else.
When he pulled away her eyes were closed and she was panting. Staring at her flushed face, he waited for her to look at him before he asked, "Will you let me show you, Lacey? Will you trust me to take care of you? Do you want to learn what it's like to give control to someone else and let go?"
God help her, she couldn't say no. Not now. Not when the personification of sex was so close he was burning her alive. The minute Michael's calloused thumb stroked her clit she'd known she'd do whatever he asked. The fear and anxiety was strangely arousing, causing her to ache in a manner that was entirely new and exhilarating.
"Yes."
She peered into his shimmering ice-blue eyes. She could see the approval in his stare, could feel the pleasure it gave her to please him. If happiness were a drug she'd live on a constant high if he presented that same look to her each and every time she did something he requested.
"Such a brave girl. Tell me your safe words."
For a moment her stomach bottomed out. Her upbringing told her this was a big no-no. Respectable Christian women did not engage in kinky sex with men, and they certainly didn't engage in kinky sex with men they weren't even dating. But whose rules were those, really? Who had the right to judge what she did in the privacy of her bedroom or, in this case, a playroom?
"Lacey?"
She knew he wanted an answer but she had to be certain. Was she was really going to do this? Was she ready to take the leap into uncharted waters to learn if the ocean would wrap her in its embrace? What if she hit the surface in a horrendous belly flop that would embarrass her beyond repair?
Don't think about it. Let go. Just feel.
"Yellow and red." The voice that answered didn't sound like hers. It was too deep, too shameless. No more fantasy or watching others through a screen. She was no longer the voyeur. She was now the participant.
Michael pressed a kiss to her forehead and moved away. "Take off your clothes. Leave your underwear on but remove the rest."
His voice was different too, as was his expression. There was a power there she'd never seen before, a presence that had always lingered below the surface but she'd been too frightened to engage. Clumsy fingers made untying her boot laces difficult, the thin strings slipping from her grasp like sand, but she eventually toed them off and removed her socks. Next went her jeans and sweater, although she was shy when removing them and took her time. When she finished undressing, she placed her folded clothes next to her boots and shivered as the chilled air finally made contact with her skin.
She couldn't look at Michael. Despite standing before him clothed in nothing more than her lacy pink bra and underwear, the thought of meeting his gaze felt too intimate. Exhilaration and humiliation clashed. What did he see when he looked at her? Did he notice all her flaws? Did he mind her tall, thin frame? Did he detest the lack of curves and cleavage?
"Beautiful." He strode toward her in two leisurely steps and stopped an arm's length away. "Turn around, lean over the table and spread your legs."
Tingles erupted in her belly as excitement and uneasiness merged. Was she really going to do this? Was she ready to hand total control to Michael? The answer came as she moved to do as he requested. No matter what happened, she would finally know if the fantasy excited her as much as the reality. For once she would forget about propriety and taboo and embrace her desires.
The smooth material of the bench was cool against her belly. She spread her legs shoulder's width apart, her breathing shallow, limbs quaking.
"Wider, angel. I felt how wet your pussy is. Now I want to see it."
A tremor shot through her. No man had ever spoken to her so explicitly, without shame or apology, as if he had every right to do so. Trembling, she gripped the leather and widened her stance, shocked at just how excited she was to do as he ordered, captivated by his presence and intensity.
When she felt his hand skimming along the back of her thigh she jerked and inhaled raggedly. His touch was steady and deliberate, starting at the fleshy portion just beneath her ass as he slid his calloused palm slowly down until he stopped just above the back of her knee. His touch vanished and returned on the other leg, this time starting at her knee and working back up.
"Your skin is so soft and smooth, darlin'. Like touching fresh rose petals."
His hand slid between her legs and cupped, causing her to lift onto her toes as he palmed her sex through the thin lace. He rubbed his hand back and forth, his finger gliding lightly against her clit. She moaned and pressed against his hand. She was so close to climax, so ready to reach the pinnacle that waited for her. She shook as the muscles in her pussy flexed and released, aching for something to ease the ache inside.
Michael's hand abruptly vanished and she cried out at the loss.
"You don't come unless I say so."
She'd seen this online but hadn't thought it was possible. Orgasms were something you latched on to, followed and enjoyed while you could. It was impossible to come on command.
"But---"
"Do you want to use your words, Lacey?" His voice was gruff and stern.
"N-no."
He placed his thumb and forefinger against her chin, forcing her to look over her shoulder. His face was right there, his blue eyes intent. "Then I suggest you keep quiet and do exactly what I say. You don't want to be punished this soon and I'd hate to gag that beautiful mouth of yours."
When he claimed her lips this time there was nothing tender or gentle about the kiss. His tongue plunged, ravaged and dominated. She whimpered when she felt his fingers hook the crotch of her panties and push them to the side. One finger slid into her as his thumb returned to her clit, this time using firm, deliberate strokes.
Ripping his lips away, he stared into her face, watching her expression as he worked her with his fingers. "Lesson number one. You can't come without permission. Only when I say."
"I..." The friction of his hand, his palm grinding against her, was almost too much. It was impossible to rationalize or comprehend the lesson he wanted her to learn. At that moment she wanted to come more than she ever had in her life.
He nipped the top of her ear. "You?"
"Please," she begged, finally understanding in the grips of a merciless sexual haze what he wanted, knowing that soon she'd come whether he allowed it or not. Never had she been this close to orgasm. Now she understood the videos. The women she'd seen had been hovering on the brink the entire time. It wasn't impossible to have an orgasm on command if you were constantly dangling on the edge of one. Her entire body was quaking, muscles trembling violently as her teeth started to rattle.
"Please what?"
He refused to let her look away when she tried to lower her head, forcing her to meet his unwavering stare. "Please let me come, Michael. Please."
His thumb stroked her lip just before he leaned in for another kiss. She wailed into his mouth, unable to help herself as warmth built in her stomach. By the time he pulled away, she knew she didn't have time to ask again. She was going to come. She was too excited, to needy and too damn sexed to hold back.
"Come for me, angel."
She did exactly that, shattering into a million pieces, becoming lightheaded as her body thrashed and her muscles flexed. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel and bask in the glory of the greatest climax of her life. Michael's finger was gentle but insistent on her clit, keeping the sensation going for as long as possible. She writhed in ecstasy, the suctioning walls of her pussy clamping down on his finger. The strength in her arms and legs gave out and she collapsed against the table in a heap.
"That was perfect." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "You're so damn sexy when you come. Next time I'll have you lying face up on the table so you can watch yourself and I'll use my tongue instead of my hand. How does that sound?"
The heat of his body vanished and she clung to the table, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Her stomach knotted as she imagined watching herself in the mirror as Michael buried his blond head between her legs. The mixture of anticipation, uncertainty and danger was a potent combination, eliciting all new quivering in her arms, legs and abdomen.
Something soft tickled her lower back, tiny wisps of fabric brushing her skin. She lifted her head and turned to see Michael caressing her with the tails of a flogger. The handle was black, the dangling strands a beautiful, vivid red.
"Do you know what this is?"
After licking her suddenly parched lips, she managed to murmur, "A flogger."
"That's right. This one is made of deerskin, so it's soft and gentle, which is exactly what we want the first time out of the gate." He ran the tails of the flogger up and down her ass, teasing her skin. "How does that feel?"
"Good," she sighed, placed her head on her forearms and relaxed as he continued. The tips of the leather tickled the surface of her skin, the deerskin extremely soft and velvety. This was the one concern she'd had when watching BDSM videos online. Sexual pleasure was something she was all for, not pain.
As if reading her mind, Michael said, "I'm not into excessive punishment, whips or canes. I prefer sensual to pain play." He stopped talking, the flogger tails vanished and the sharp, unexpected slap of his palm on her ass had her lurching upright.
"What was that for?"
"I don't recall giving you permission to ask a question." There was humor in his voice as pressed his hips into her, the contour of his rigid cock evident against her back. He pulled away and yanked on her panties until the material was wedged between her ass cheeks, leaving her totally at his mercy. "What are your safe words?"
"Y-yellow and r-red," she stammered, gasping for breath, suffocating once more in sexual need.
His weight vanished and the wisps of the flogger returned, so tender and light. When they vanished she braced herself for another hearty slap of his hand and was rewarded by the sharp sting of the leather against her skin. It wasn't painful. Rather the silken strands created buzzing electricity that coursed through her body from the point of contact all the way to her bones.
"How does that feel?" Michael breezed the tails of the flogger along her skin.
How did it feel? It wasn't painful or unpleasant. "It feels...okay."
"I'll take that as a go." He laughed softly. "Hold on to the table. I want to see how pretty your ass looks when it's red."
She wrapped her fingers around wooden edge when the flogger came down again---harder this time. He alternated firm strokes, bringing the strips of leather down on her left cheek before doing the same with the right. It stung slightly at first but felt incredible as the skin heated and the air seemed to cool the burn. Like a deep tissue massage that ached before the muscle settled and relaxed.
"You're doing so well." Michael didn't stop as he praised her. "Your skin turns a beautiful shade of pink when it's flogged. I imagine it looks like this following a trip to the beach, when you've worn sunblock but manage to get a sunburn."
Anything she wanted to say came out as whimpers and moans. Her tongue was too heavy in her mouth, her lips shaking too hard to form an adequate verbal response. Minutes had passed and her ass was hot. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and she had never wanted to be fucked so badly in her life. Each time the flogger landed she rocked into the strands, rubbing her sensitive nipples against her lacy bra and the leather bench beneath her, pushing her hips against the table, desperate for more.
He stopped and ran a cool hand along her warm and aching backside. "You should see how sexy your ass looks, all marked and red, and your skin is so hot and sensitive." She felt his breath against her ear as he whispered, "But your skin isn't the only thing that's hot, is it?"
It was a good thing he scooped her into his arms because she didn't think her legs would support her weight. She clung to him like a drowning woman, burying her face against his chest, inhaling deeply and breathing him in. He smelled of soap, water and man---clean, succulent and masculine.
The plush down comforter surrounded her hips, bottom and shoulders as the softness of the bed cradled her. She closed her eyes and sighed as she relaxed into the pillows. Fingers wrapped around her right arm and she opened her eyes to see Michael attaching a fur-lined cuff to her wrist.
Her eyes went wide and the hazy cloud that surrounded her began to ebb. A bit of fun on the bench with the flogger was one thing. She wasn't tied down and unable to get free. After the cuff was clasped properly, Michael looked at her, and she realized the apprehension she felt must have been obvious.
Dipping his head, he calmed her with in a tender kiss. Her lips parted in welcome, her anxiety momentarily put on the back burner, and she groaned in pleasure as his tongue dipped inside. The man was a master with his mouth. A kiss had always been just a kiss. Not something that had her pulse pounding and her blood pumping.
He pulled away and brushed his mouth across tip of her nose. "Safe, sane, consensual. If you want to stop, say the word and we will. Nothing happens without your willingness and acceptance. None of this works without trust."
She looked at her cuffed wrist. The fit was snug but the fur ensured it was comfortable. Her attention drifted to the bedpost, to the length of silken rope, which had a clasp on the end the perfect size to latch on to the metal ring on the cuff. After a moment she extended her hand and reclined back as he snapped the clasp onto the ring and removed the slack from the rope. He retrieved another cuff and repeated the process until both arms were stretched over her head, just loose enough that she could bend her elbows comfortably.
He took his time studying her body. His hands surrounded her waist before traveling the length of her rib cage. "You are such a clever girl." He grasped the front of her bra. "You've worn underwear that makes this absolutely perfect."
One flick of his fingers and the cloth fell to her sides, revealing her breasts. They weren't small but they weren't large, barely C-cup. He brought the tip of his index finger to her nipple and skimmed around the surface, his touch so light it was torture. She bowed her back for more and he pulled away, his glacierlike eyes narrowing.
He clucked his tongue. "Impatient, are we?"
The bed shifted as he stood and walked to the shelf to the right. When he returned she saw something small and silver between his fingers. Before she could ask what the objects were the bed dipped, his head descended and he captured her taut and pebbled left nipple between his lips. He used his teeth and tongue, alternating quick nips with gentle taps. The suction and the differing sensations had her writhing on the bed, a gyrating mass of bliss.
Lifting his head, he quickly placed a tweezer clamp on the wet and sensitized skin and expertly adjusted the small screw on the outside. She experienced a mixture of pain and pleasure as the device tightened around her tender nipple, absolutely intense but equally arousing. She hissed at the sensation and strained against the cuffs until he found the pressure he wanted.
"Shh." He licked her other nipple, skimming his tongue along the surface. "Relax. You'll find the pleasure in them. You'll see."
Although the clamp wasn't painful but intrusive, placing pressure on an area of her body that was prone to be extraordinarily responsive, she wasn't certain she enjoyed the sensation. She steeled herself as his lips vanished and were replaced by another clamp. He adjusted the second as deftly as he had the first, ensuring the device was equally tight against her skin, but she didn't have time to dwell on her nipple or the object clamped around it.
Not with Michael moving down the length of her body.
Grasping her panties, he slid them along her legs and eased them past her feet. "Spread those pretty thighs for me." He placed a light hand on either knee, urging her to reveal herself. "I want to know what you taste like."
His gaze was locked between her legs and she clammed up, unable to do as he asked. Even as the prospect excited her, it also created a level of self-consciousness and nervousness that had her second-guessing her decision to take things so far. Having her hair lasered when she lived in California had been purely for cosmetic purposes, as there was nothing worse than pubic hair peering out of a skimpy bikini. To complicate matters, the men she'd been involved with steered clear of that area all together. She'd once joked to Candice if she ever wanted someone to introduce her to the land down under, she'd have to plan a trip to Australia. Damn good thing she hadn't contacted a travel agent. The man steadily parting her thighs had every intention of showing her what oral was all about.
With her pussy entirely bare and smooth, when Michael got the full-on view of her hairless, exposed sex he would be able to see everything.
"Lacey," he growled. Raising his head, he met her anxious gaze. "Do I need to tie your legs as well?"
"No one has seen me there before," she blurted, cheeks flaming. Could she possibly sound sillier or more inexperienced?
He seemed amused, grinning. "Are you telling me you're a virgin?"
She looked away, wishing the bed would rise up and swallow her to avoid the embarrassment of answering. "I'm telling you no one has ever looked at me there before."
"That's a shame," the pressure against her knees forced her to part her legs slightly, allowing him to see between, "because I know you're going to have a beautiful pussy."
Oh dear God.
Up until then she'd never known it was possible to experience a sentence-induced hot flash. Leave it to Michael to teach her the flaw in her sexually deprived logic. She couldn't believe what he'd said or how he'd said it, but it didn't change the facts. This man didn't sweeten his words to get to the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Instead he rode the colorful rays at his own pace, made the sky his bitch and took everything he wanted when he was good and ready.
His mouth and tongue created a wet trail up her left thigh, then her right. He placed his hands underneath, cradling her ass as he slid his shoulders between her knees. If she was trembling before, she was shaking now, unable to remain still even if she wanted to. His breath was hot against her electrified skin, his mouth hovering just over her sex.
"I was right. Beautiful. Good enough to eat."
The first lick he bestowed was a hard flick against her clit. She gasped and tugged at the wrist restraints, watching in disbelief as he ran his tongue along his lips and met her wide-eyed stare. This wasn't a man who avoided oral sex unless he was on the receiving end. There was no mad rush to pull out his cock, get himself ready and start the race that usually resulted in her coming last at the finish line. Oh no. The look on Michael's face told her this was something he enjoyed---something he looked forward to.
Holy shit.
She felt his thumbs part her, revealing her completely.
"God, you smell incredible. And you taste so fucking good. Hot and sweet."
He began teasing her with steady laps of his tongue, circling her labia before dipping between the folds---round and round, up and down. Different from the stimulation of her vibrator---wet, deliberate and sinful---she arched her back and pressed her head into the pillows, pushing her pussy against his mouth. He lifted the hood masking her clit and sucked the small pearl between his lips, flicking the bead with fast motions of his tongue. He alternated his attention, taking his time, exploring her with his mouth, waggling his head, causing her to pant uncontrollably as he brought her close to climax only to deny her release.
A finger slid along the opening of her pussy, taunting her as she whimpered for more, before slipping inside. He pumped into her with slow and steady strokes, added another finger and timed the glides of his tongue as he took the rounded bundle of nerves at the top of her sex back into his mouth. The first few passes were incredible, burning her up from the inside but when he corkscrewed his fingers and hit her G-spot she thought she might die from the intensity.
"Michael..." She sounded desperate but she didn't care. Despite her previous orgasm, she wanted to experience another one, somehow knowing it would spin the world on its axis.
He released her clit, gave it one final lick and removed his fingers. "This time, we come together."
The bed shifted as he rose and walked to the shelf. He opened a canister, reached inside and retrieved a condom. As he returned to the bed she noticed the large tent in his flannels. Her gaze remained glued to the visible outline of the head of his cock. Even though his sizeable erection was partially concealed, she knew he was thick and long. She imagined how it would feel to have him inside her, so deep she wouldn't be able to tell where he ended and she began.
Then it hit her.
She didn't have to imagine. She was going to have sex with Michael. She was tied to his bed, totally helpless to do anything, and he was about to have his way with her. Her ultimate wicked fantasy was actually about to happen.
He hooked his thumbs into the waist of his pants and pulled them down, revealing his fully erect cock. The skin along the shaft was a soft shade of pink, the plum-like head engorged, wide and perfect. He was far larger than the few men she'd been with, his proportions intimidating yet mouthwatering. The dark blond hair surrounding his testicles made her wish her hands were free so she could test their heavy weight and feel them resting in her palm.
"Are you sure you want this?" he asked and she ripped her eyes away from the temptation between his legs to meet his intense stare. "I know this has happened quickly and I can't pretend I didn't take advantage of your presence in my playroom."
A flicker of indecision crossed his face. It vanished, but not before she realized he continued to be affected by her rejection at Haddie's. She never would have guessed it bothered him so much. Only now his reactions after the fact made perfect sense. No wonder he was so distant when they crossed paths at Shell's Diner or bumped into each other at the gas station.
She didn't look away. "I want this." To sweeten the pot, she licked her lips and smiled. "I want you."
He reached down and stroked his glistening length, starting at the root and working his way to the tip. She paused, unable to tear her eyes away.
"Do you like to watch, Lacey?" he asked hoarsely, stroking faster.
"I..." She attempted to formulate words. "I've never seen a man touch himself before."
"Never?"
"No." She exhaled the word, short of breath. Back and forth his hand stroked, his thumb rotating along the crown.
"I can't wait to take you to the club. If you like to watch, you'll be in heaven."
He ripped the foil packet open without breaking eye contact, removed the thin latex and expertly sheathed himself. He didn't climb over her body, he prowled, muscles contorting, shoulders flexing. As he moved between her legs, his blond hair cascaded around his shoulders and his eyes darkened into a breathtaking sapphire blue.
"You're so gorgeous tied up to my bed with those rosy nipples clamped and your cunt glistening. I've dreamed about you like this, waiting to receive me. Spread-eagle, wet and ready."
Fisting himself, he slid the broad head of his cock between her slick labia, coating the crown in her arousal. Then he placed the tip against the entrance and pressed forward. She curved her back and lifted her hips. Inch by inch he filled her, possessing her, spreading her vaginal walls in a lover's whisper and pushing past resistance as he stretched her to capacity and brought their bodies together in the most intimate way possible.
"Fuck, baby, you're tight." Michael gritted his teeth. Grasping Lacey's hips, he brought her upward so he could penetrate her fully.
If he didn't know better, he would think it was her first time.
She whimpered and closed her eyes as her inner muscles contorted, squeezing him until he thought he might explode. It was torture to take her so carefully when all he wanted to do was to slam balls-deep and feel what it was like to be lodged completely inside her. She was perfect for him, so responsive and trusting, her face as expressive and open as he knew it would be.
Her hands formed into fists inside the cuffs and she wrapped her ankles around his hips as he drove steadily forward. Her cunt was perfect; snug, hot and slick with her juices. He could only imagine how tight she'd be with a plug in her ass, filling her to the limit, forcing her to feel every inch of his length as he pumped into her.
When he slid the rest of the way in the head of his cock bumped her cervix. She gasped, eyes flaring as her pussy clamped down on him and her legs tightened around his waist. There was a mixture of pain, pleasure and uncertainty in her gaze, as if she were trying to decide if she enjoyed or disliked the sensation.
Releasing her hips, he lowered his torso and placed his hands on either side of her. She welcomed him as he bent down to ravage her mouth, lips parting, tongue darting out to meet his halfway. He kissed her deeply, beginning an intricate and sensual dance of tongues. It had the desired effect. Slowly, she went soft beneath him.
He moved from her mouth to her chin, trailing kisses along the outline of her jaw to her throat. As he did he rotated his hips, ensuring the motion sent his pelvis forward to rub against her clit. She thrashed wildly and cried out when he moved to her breasts and teased her nipples with light swirls of his tongue. The swollen points were luscious berry-red from the clamps, so vivid against her pale skin. Her cunt spasmed, gripping him like a velvet fist when he gave each equal attention. From left to right he adored her breasts, making love to them as he fucked her slow and deep.
"Damn, you feel good," he groaned, knowing he didn't have long. He wanted her too badly to last and had thought of this moment too often to enjoy it as he should. He needed to come inside her, to claim her entirely, to know this moment was real and not some wet dream that had him waking up hard as hell and ready to burst.
Taking her hips in hand once again, he watched her face as he slowly withdrew. Christ, she was gorgeous. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were heavy lidded and her lips were swollen.
When he was nearly free of her pussy he began the journey back inside. He plunged into her, forcing a cry from her lips. The rotation of her hips, the wet gush that greeted his cock and her heels digging into his ass were all the invitation he needed. He repeated the motion, sliding out before thrusting back inside, starting a rhythm that was hard, steady and fast. Her breasts rocked, the small clamps puckering her nipples.
"Oh God. Michael." She fucking purred his name, meeting his thrusts, rolling her hips in a motion that was sure to have him coming sooner rather than later.
"I want you to come with me. I want to feel your pussy clamping down on my cock, squeezing me tight." Reaching between their bodies, he found her clit, pinched it between his thumb and forefinger and heard her breath catch. "That's right. Come for me. Show me how good I make you feel."
"Touch you," she murmured, timing the rise of her pelvis to meet his thrusts. "Please."
He unclasped the cuff from her left arm first, then her right. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her fingernails pierced his skin. She lifted her head, brushing her lips across the curve of his collarbone, holding on as she ground against him.
"Come for me, angel. Come for me now."
Fuck, it felt good as she did as he asked---too good.
Her pussy compressed his cock, her arms pulled him close and she held on tight. His balls went taut, drawing up against his body, and he was coming with her, jetting threads of semen into the condom and wishing like hell it was inside her instead. There was something special between them. Something he couldn't deny. Something he'd felt the instant he saw her at Haddie's.
Lacey was more than an itch he needed to scratch. The mutual attraction---and he was certain it was mutual following what they'd just shared---had lasted for weeks. Despite the amount of time it took for them to see it, experiencing the rightness of how it could be between them, how incredible the future looked if the days and nights were anything like what they'd just shared, told him he didn't want his relationship to Lacey to be something casual or short-lived.
He wanted far, far more than that.
She went still as he continued to move, accepting his thrusts, moaning as the last throes of climax left her sated and spent. He covered her body with his, resting his weight on his elbows, and carefully avoided contact with her nipples. She was breathing hard, her heartbeat visible through her pale, sweat-slicked breast. He collected a crystalline bead of moisture at the hollow of her throat and relished the saltiness on his tongue.
"That was incredible." Lacey panted, catching her breath.
"No," he corrected and kissed her tenderly. "You're incredible."
Reluctantly, he pulled free of her body, moved from the bed and walked to the wall on the right side of the room. Pressing the hidden panel, he opened the door to the small bathroom with a toilet, sink and walk-in shower. After disposing of the condom and washing his hands, he returned to the playroom, paused and studied the beautiful creature resting on his bed with her pale limbs stretched out and her eyes closed.
She'd responded in a way he was only beginning to comprehend. She'd willingly followed his commands, became turned on by them, and allowed herself to let go. It was the first crack in the ice, a first step in embracing the lifestyle. Judging by her reactions, she was turned on when she was tied up and bossed around.
Tonight, Lacey Walsh was his.
Tonight isn't tomorrow, a nagging inner voice corrected. She's yours for now.
Wasn't that the irony of the situation? He'd brought her here to see how things would progress between them only to find his balls waiting in the proverbial grinder. Lacey hadn't indicated she was interested in a relationship or a commitment. If she wanted to collect her things and say goodbye in the morning, he was fucked. Because it wasn't a one-night stand he was after. Not after he'd found a sultry female who would ruin him for every other woman he ever met.
Damn it. He might not know what Lacey hoped for after tonight, but he knew exactly what he did.
More.
After he returned to the bed, he grasped the clamp on her left nipple and warned, "This might sting a bit." He removed it and replaced the small device with his mouth, soothing the swollen nub with his tongue as she gasped. He did the same with the right, taking his time, gently suckling her satiny skin. Her soft sigh of contentment told him what he already suspected.
It was late, almost midnight. She had to be exhausted.
"Lacey?"
"Hmm?" She turned her head on the pillow to look at him, sending glorious strands of mahogany fanning across the cream-colored pillows. She truly looked like an angel at that moment with her fair skin, rosy blush and swollen lips. Her grass green eyes, though heavy lidded, were brimming with satisfaction, telling him she'd enjoyed herself as much as he had.
"I'd like you to stay here tonight." And tomorrow, and the next day...
The grin she gave him made his heart falter and his cock twitch. He could get used to having this woman in his home, in his bed, in his arms.
"You sure you don't want to get rid of me?"
He smiled instead of answering, prompted her to slip beneath the comforter and sheets so he could join her and pulled her into his arms. It was best to enjoy the afterglow while he could. He wasn't sure how she'd react if he told her the truth.
After tonight, he had no intention of letting her go.
Lacey groaned, stretched and opened her eyes as slightly sore muscles protested the movement. She glanced up, basking in the afterglow of mind-blowing sex, and smiled when she saw the note resting on the pillow next to her head. Grasping the paper between her index and middle fingers, she rolled onto her back and flipped it open.
Good Morning Angel,
I had to take a call this morning but didn't want to wake you. I'll get your car while I'm out and pick up breakfast. Make yourself at home. I'll be back soon.
Michael
Grinning like a loon, she brought the note to her lips.
The night before had been amazing, fulfilling all her naughty fantasies and then some. Michael had woken her once during the night to take her again. It hadn't been entirely vanilla since he'd instructed her to roll onto her hands and knees so he could fuck her from behind. The doggy-style position had never been one she enjoyed but with him it had been highly erotic. His heavy weight against her back, the hands gripping her shoulders to prevent her from moving away and the powerful dives into her pussy---slow, hard, then fast---reminded her who was in control.
And it wasn't her.
He'd cupped her breasts after he'd settled in and had her mewling, pinching her nipples only to ease the sting with tender caresses. When she hadn't been able to stand it any longer he'd ordered her to arch her back so her nipples swayed against the sheets with each of his masterful thrusts, allowing her to experience a similar pleasure as he used his free hands to massage her clit, teasing her mercilessly until she'd been begging him to come.
As he'd given his permission she'd gloried in a release that was more powerful than any she'd experienced before, the dizzying, electrified waves of pleasure leaving behind a permanent imprint of the man that she couldn't stop thinking about. In that moment she'd realized what had been missing in her life. She was always in control of her books, her contracts, her schedule and commitments. As liberating as that was, it could be equally draining. It felt right to relinquish control, allowing Michael to dictate when, where and how they would enjoy each other. He knew the ways to please her and she was only too eager to listen.
What was shocking was that their night together had been nothing like she'd expected it to be.
Michael hadn't subjected her to unnecessary pain or forced her to do things that made her feel what she was doing was dirty or repulsive. There was no degradation or treating her as if she was the lesser of the two of them. Instead he used the tools at his disposal to create a new brand of ecstasy she'd never imagined, worshipping her in his own way, rewarding her compliance over and over again.
A robe was resting across the foot of the bed and she slid it on as she left behind a tangle of sheets and the heady fragrance of sex. The material was thick and plush, draping low enough to the ground that she knew it belonged to Michael. As she retrieved her clothing and boots, she decided to take a shower before she explored the rest of the house. She wanted to find Michael's room, was curious to see if he had a big four-poster bed with cuffs in his private domain.
She heard the front door open and a smile spread across her face. Once she scampered up the stairs she rushed through the entertainment room, prepared to leap into Michael's arms, only to stop when a curvaceous blonde woman walked into her path.
Lacey skidded to a stop, momentarily dumbfounded and shell-shocked.
"Oh." The stranger recovered quickly. "Hello."
"Hello." Lacey felt as if she was operating on autopilot as she returned the greeting, caught off-guard by the breathtaking creature who walked through the foyer as if she was very familiar with the house.
"I'm Aly."
The woman extended her hand and Lacey clumsily shifted her bundle of clothing to one arm, shook the proffered hand and let go.
"Lacey."
Aly smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sorry for dropping in so unexpectedly. I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I usually knock when Master is entertaining but when I saw his truck was gone I used the key to allow myself inside. I apologize. I wasn't aware he had company."
Three words computed in that moment: Master. Key. Entertaining.
Lacey's stomach sank and her heart constricted, bliss swiftly changing to another emotion as comprehension struck cruelly and the lemony bitterness of shame coated the back of her throat. Dazed and hurt, she studied the beautiful, full-figured woman standing in front of her. She was dressed in skintight jeans and a form-fitting camel coat, a large black tote slung over her arm. And she was a stunner, absolutely gorgeous.
Master, Aly'd said. Master.
So Michael not only had a submissive, he also engaged in sex with other women on the side. To think she'd damned Scott for being a scuzz bucket!
What a fucking sleaze. How stupid can I possibly be?
"Would you like me to make you breakfast?" Aly asked softly, studying her with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. "Master shouldn't be long. We can get to know each other until he returns."
"Get to know each other?" Lacey echoed dumbly, disgusted at the thought. She'd heard of women who willingly shared their men, had tried to wrap her mind around it, but it wasn't her thing. Her mother had always told her she was selfish as a child and refused to share. She supposed it was something that had trickled over when it came to relationships.
Once a man was hers, he was hers. Hands off. Do not go there.
"Of course, why wouldn't we?" The smile on Aly's face waned. "If you're still here, things obviously went well. Master doesn't usually permit his guests to stay overnight."
"Guests?" Lacey croaked, on the verge of losing her cool.
How many times had Michael done things like this? Introducing women to this kind of lifestyle? Tying them up, making them beg? All of the events from the previous evening came rushing back but there was no euphoria this time. The phrase "notch in the bedpost" took on an entirely new meaning. She didn't even want to think about the pillow talk they'd engaged in before they drifted to sleep, discussing what they wanted most in the future.
Marriage, family, kids, a couple of dogs...
He'd fed her bullshit, and she'd gobbled it up like Godiva chocolate. How desperate and naïve she must have sounded. Like a blabbering fool who believed that something more could come from their experience together. Not that Michael was innocent. He'd held her in his arms as she jabbered on, pretending to be interested. He'd even shared a few dreams of his own.
Fucking pillow talk! Suddenly she felt incredibly sick.
"Oh God." She staggered, bringing her hand to her mouth.
"Are you all right?" Aly frowned and took a step forward.
"I'm fine." She sidestepped Aly's reach as her gaze darted around the room. She had to get dressed and get the fuck out. "Where's the bathroom?"
The frown marring Aly's face deepened. "There's one just inside the hallway."
Lacey didn't waste any time rushing past the busty blonde. She noticed the door now, hidden as it matched the wood perfectly. She darted inside, flipped on the light and flung off the robe. Tossing her clothing into the sink, she slid into her underwear before wriggling into her clothes.
She tried to soothe her rattled nerves, knowing she had to get her act together fast. First she'd go to the shop, see if Jacob was around and ask for a ride into town. She'd worry about the rest later. Right now she just wanted to get as far away from Michael and the memory of their night together as possible. It was embarrassing enough to face the woman he obviously fucked on a regular basis without wondering if he'd performed the same "scene", said the same things or commanded the same acquiescence in his bed.
Jesus, she'd given him all he asked for too, without question.
Forcing aside nausea and striving for calm, she smoothed out her hair with trembling fingers, splashed water on her face and avoided looking at herself in the mirror. She didn't want to see the face staring back at her.
This was what happened when you played with fire---you got burned.
There was no one to blame but herself.
\*
Michael pulled into the drive and drove past the shop. He'd been gone longer than he expected and all he could think about was the woman waiting for him at home. He wanted to speak with her, to learn more about what she loved and hated, was eager to discover everything there was to know about her.
Last night was just the beginning.
Lacey was fire and ice, velvet and steel, and she pleased him in ways he never believed possible, bringing out protective and possessive impulses unlike any he'd ever experienced for a woman. He had to convince her to give them a chance outside the bedroom, to consider taking their sexual encounter to another level. As excited as submission obviously made her, announcing it to the world was harder for some than others. He had to gain her trust, maintain it and treasure it as the ultimate gift it was.
His thoughts returned to the best way to introduce her to the BDSM lifestyle. Slow was best. If he was patient, built on their flourishing trust and allowed Lacey to know him on a personal level, they had a shot at making things work. They had similar interests and were more than compatible sexually, which was more than he could say for most couples. Not to mention he'd discovered he didn't want to spend a single minute without her---something that would have his friends snickering in glee.
Michael the pussy whipped, he mused and grinned, already hearing their friendly taunts resonating in his head. And fuck it to hell if he cared. His father always told him all a man needed was a good woman. It was time to prove the old man right.
He had time to do things right with Lacey. He just had to make sure he used it wisely.
How would she react if he invited her to the Christmas party at Fantasia? Would she decline his invitation outright? Or would she venture outside her comfort zone? Although his tastes didn't require the full measure of D/s play in public, he still enjoyed mingling with his friends at the club and considered them his second family in many ways. If there was going to be a future between him and Lacey there had to be an understanding. As attracted and drawn to her as he was, he wasn't going to let her go easily.
All good things were worth fighting for.
His broad grin and beginnings of a plan obliterated when he came around the garage and saw the car parked in front of his home. Aly's sky-blue Honda Civic was situated along the left side of the stairs, leaving plenty of room for his truck, and she wasn't inside the vehicle.
Fuck.
So much for starting things off on the right foot with Lacey.
Michael cursed as he drove into his driveway, threw the truck into park and killed the motor. Once he'd climbed down from the rig and stepped around, he rushed to the stairs and took them two at a time. The minute he opened the door his eyes went to the coatrack.
Lacey's coat was gone, as was the purse she'd left on the floor.
Shit.
Striding into the living room, he found Aly on her knees, head bowed, hands clasped behind her back. He couldn't mask the anger in his voice and didn't attempt to.
"What are you doing here?"
She kept her head bowed, although she shifted her weight as she was prone to do when she was nervous. "I wanted to speak to you, Master."
It wasn't necessary for her to elaborate. He knew why she wanted to speak with him. For weeks she'd hinted at wanting a second chance. Although their meetings in town appeared random, he was well aware they were orchestrated by Aly. Since he'd made a very clean and painful break from the relationship, he refused to give the woman what she wanted. He couldn't live with a submissive who needed to be told how to dress, what to prepare for dinner or how to react to situations. Some Dominants didn't mind that level of control. In fact, some wanted it for themselves. He wasn't one of them. It was too much responsibility and delved into an entirely different, full-time lifestyle.
Not to mention, Aly was subservient to the core. She didn't get jealous, angry or bitter and submitted entirely to the will of her Master. He'd heard rumors at the club when she got his attention, was aware that she was left in a free fall by a worthless Dom. It wasn't common but it did happen.
He hadn't realized just how deeply the scars went, however, until she revealed her needs after a few short weeks. By then she'd been all but hanging by a thread, desperate to hand the reins of her life over to someone else. He'd arrived home to find her in his playroom one afternoon, entirely naked, sobbing as if someone had died. It was then that he knew she needed far more than he could ever give her. As much as he cared for her, it wasn't enough and never would be.
"I'm not your Master," he reminded her in a firm and level tone, his heart going soft as it always did when he remembered her circumstances. "I told you from the beginning I wasn't interested in that kind of relationship or that level of commitment. I'm not a full-time Dom and I never will be."
"But..." She lifted her head and her large, doelike eyes were brimming with tears.
He didn't move closer, well aware that the waterworks, while sincere, would only make things worse. "I told you when we met that I'm not the type of Dom who wants a slave. It's not personal. You're a beautiful woman and will make some lucky bastard a very happy man, but not me. I can't be what you need. You never should have gotten involved with me knowing that. Trust and honesty are the two most important things in a D/s relationship, and you broke that when you failed to tell me what you required in a commitment."
"I thought I could make you understand. I thought that---"
"That you could make me fall in love with you before you revealed the truth?"
It was something he'd suspected, of course, after she decided to be honest with him. Aly was beautiful and sweet enough to have men the world over falling in love with her. The problem was adoration came with a price. While a man might fall in love with her, she would never reciprocate the emotion. Scars from her past prevented it. Even without the compulsion to have a full-time submissive, the cost of coveting a prize he could never hope to win was something he had no interest in.
She started to answer but stopped, nodding instead.
"You should know better than anyone that it takes more than love to cement a permanent bond in your type of situation. You have to find someone who can accept your terms as well as take on that level of responsibility." He raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't suppose you bumped into a woman when you got here?"
Aly nodded again. "She was coming upstairs from the playroom when I used the spare key to come inside."
He felt anger returning, hard and fast. "What did you say to her?"
"Nothing," she answered quickly, peering up at him in alarm. "I offered to make her breakfast while we waited for you but she only wanted to leave. I would never make a guest feel unwelcome in your home, Master."
His stomach churned and his mouth went dry. "How did you refer to me when you spoke with her?"
The blush that stained her cheeks gave him his answer.
Goddamn it. No wonder Lacey had split. He could only imagine what she thought.
"Aly, I want you to listen to me carefully." By the grace of some inner control, he was able to keep his temper in check. "You are not welcome in my home. I want you to place the spare key on my kitchen table and leave. After I sort through the shit you've caused, I'm going to contact Trevor and ask him to consider taking you on."
"No," she whispered, shaking her head, horrified eyes practically pleading. "Please, Michael. Don't."
"I warned you that if you didn't take care of yourself, I'd do it for you. You trespassed into my home and possibly ruined something very special to me in the process. While I'm sure you didn't intend to cause any harm, you've done so nonetheless."
"Trevor has Brian." She stared at the floor, a beautiful yet pitiful wreck at his feet. "I promise I won't do this again. I'll ask around the club. I'll find someone else."
"Aly." When she looked at him, he ordered, "Come here."
Her misery was apparent in the way her shoulders slumped as she rose to her feet and did as he asked. A part of him felt like an asshole for putting his foot down, but he knew if he didn't, this would continue until she did something truly foolish.
He placed his hands on her shoulders when she stopped in front of him. "I know you want a relationship like you had before. In a perfect world, you'd have it. But the BDSM lifestyle isn't a perfect one, and you don't always get what you want. You of all people should know that." Wrapping his hands around her arms, he squeezed gently. "You were treated horribly. No sub should ever have to suffer what you did. I wouldn't ask you to consider Trevor if I didn't trust him. He expressed an interest in you as soon as David left. If you'd give him the opportunity, I honestly believe he would make you happy. He and Brian are devoted, committed, and can give you what you need. I want you to trust me to take care of this for you."
"I can't."
He cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. "Have you ever considered the possibility that Trevor and Brian are in a committed relationship and have been for years? You'd never have to worry about what happened between you and David with them. There would be three of you---a triple union. You could have the family you've always wanted and no matter what, you'd never be left alone." When she tried to pull away he tightened his grip and narrowed his eyes. "It's not a request. As soon as I sort out this mess you've created, I'm calling Trevor. You will, at the very least, give yourself the opportunity to see if something's there."
A miserable sniff was the only response he received, but it was more than enough. She wasn't arguing, which meant she was going to allow it---even if she wasn't entirely happy about it.
He released her and started walking toward the kitchen. "I want you to get your things and go home. I'm not sure what you said to Lacey but I can only imagine how bad this looks."
"I swear I didn't say anything to her." From the nearness of her voice, he knew she was following him.
He stopped, pivoted, and almost bumped into her. He knew he was moments away from losing his temper. He'd found what he wanted only to have it ripped away by a woman who didn't mean any harm but caused it just the same.
"You didn't have to say anything." At Aly's questioning look he exhaled raggedly. "She's not into the lifestyle. So just by showing up here, in my home, referring to me as Master..." He drew a deep breath, striving for calm, when he saw Aly's face pale.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't know."
"I know you didn't but that doesn't make the situation any better. You need to leave. I'll call you after I've spoken to Trevor."
Drawing her lip between her teeth, Aly nodded as if pained and turned to leave. Michael promptly did the same.
First he had to figure out where in the hell Lacey was, which meant calling the shop. Hopefully she was with Jacob and he would be able to explain. If not, he'd have to do something he was never very good at---groveling.
As he pulled his cell from his pocket, his palms went clammy.
So much for romantic dreams of grandeur.
This had just become a cluster-fuck of epic proportions.
\*
Lacey pounded on Candice's door, taking out her frustrations on the cheap, unyielding wood. Getting here had been harder than she thought. Jacob had flat-out refused to take her anywhere until Michael returned, so she'd been forced to present a fake smile as she'd left the shop and started walking in the direction of town.
Thank God for eighty-year-old Mr. Turner and his high-school-sweetheart-turned-wife, Ester. Their weekly visit to the grocery store saved her from bumping into Michael along the way. Not that they had the good fortune of avoiding him entirely. When they'd hit the highway Mike had sped by with her Toyota on the back of his truck. She'd shrunk into a ball in the backseat, hoping like hell he didn't take a close look into the car. Despite how shitty the situation was, having a confrontation with Michael in front of an elderly couple who still held hands and kissed like teens would have made things much worse.
"Hang on a minute! I'm coming!" Candice yelled through the door. The metallic snick of the chain lock sliding free echoed in time with the click of the deadbolt turning over. The door cracked open and Candice peered out. "Lacey?" Candice fiddled with the lapels of her robe, her messy blonde hair and puffy eyes a clear indication she'd been sound asleep. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm not telling you anything until I have a cup of coffee."
Lacey stepped past her friend into the apartment, deposited her purse on the couch and stomped toward the kitchen. She'd stayed over after many a night spent out on the town with Candy so she was familiar with the layout of the apartment. She retrieved the canister with the coffee, pulled down a filter and walked to the machine. Candice entered the kitchen and put a hand out to stop her when she reached for the pot handle.
"What's going on?"
How could she possibly answer that question? Candice had told her this would happen. She'd said entering into a relationship with Michael Gilchrist was just asking for trouble. Damn it, her best friend had repeatedly warned her that all men were exactly the same, over and over again.
Why the hell didn't she listen?
"I did something really stupid, Candy." She placed her hands on the counter, lowering her head. "Something really damn stupid."
"You finally bumped uglies with Scott?" Candice grimaced, her lack of approval apparent. She'd never cared for Scott, finding him too conceited, arrogant and metrosexual for her taste.
Lacey shook her head, eyes downcast, knowing what was coming. "I broke it off when I found out he was boning Karen."
"Karen!" Candice snapped, placing a hand on each hip. "His secretary?"
"The very same."
"What a fucking asshole! Did you kill him? Are you here to enlist help in disposing of the body? Because I know of a place near Sevierville that's perfect for the rat bastard."
"As much as I'd have liked to, no, I didn't kill him." She closed her eyes, balled her fists and decided it was time to confess. "I slept with Michael last night."
Candice frowned, her perfectly arched, brushstroke eyebrows creasing. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that? I could have sworn you just said you slept with Michael."
Hurt and anger combined, snapping her already teetering control. She should have woken up in Michael's arms this morning, partaken in a recap of the fantastic sex they'd shared and had the opportunity to enjoy breakfast with him before they thanked each other and ended what never had the chance to start. That's how one-night stands occurred with people you knew, right? It was only with strangers that you got the hell out of Dodge as soon as you woke up and realized the party was over.
"Damn it, don't do this right now!" Lacey snagged the coffee pot and turned to the sink. "I know, okay? I get it. I fucked up. He got what he wanted and that's that. You were right and I was wrong. There. Are you happy?"
"Hold up." Candice took the pot from her and turned off the water. "Don't put words into my mouth, and don't go spouting off. As far as I knew you were dating Scott as of yesterday. Then this morning you bust into my house, demand coffee and tell me you spent the night with Michael. Since there's only one Michael I can think of who fits the bill, I have a feeling there's more going on here than a night of great sex."
The fight left Lacey's body. Screaming at Candice wasn't the way to go, and technically she didn't even have the right to be angry or upset with Michael. It had been a wonderful night but it was never meant to be more than that. He'd never lied to her or made false promises. It had been exactly what it was---two consenting adults sharing an extraordinary night together. She was just too enamored to accept it with dignity and tact, keep her mouth shut like she should have and move on.
"You're right, I'm sorry."
"Now that we have that settled," Candice placed the filter inside the machine, "tell me what's going on."
So Lacey did, starting with Scott and Karen, working her way to the car wreck and consequent tow and finally revealing all of the lusty details of her night with Michael. It was if a dam had burst wide, lancing the wound so it could begin to heal. Each sentence was expelled in a rush, coming out faster and faster.
It wasn't until Candice pulled her into a comforting hug that she realized she wasn't just gabbing about her pain and anger, hurt and betrayal, hope and loss. She was doing something she hadn't done in years.
Damn it all to hell.
She was crying.
He was going to kill Aly.
As Michael stood outside Candice's apartment, pounding on the door, he lost any sense of sympathy he'd had for the woman. How could he feel sorry for her after he'd witnessed the devastation she'd caused? All he'd gotten was a glimpse of Lacey's bloodshot eyes and blotchy, tear-stained cheeks before she'd slammed the door in his face, but it was more than adequate.
Fuck if the knowledge that he'd caused her suffering didn't kill him.
It hadn't taken him long to track Lacey down, considering Candice was her only friend in town. However, it was obvious more than enough time had passed for her to get well and truly upset. An argument was taking place just inside, Candice's huskier voice bickering with Lacey's obviously exhausted one. Candice didn't want to draw attention to her apartment and Lacey didn't want to speak to him. Not that he blamed her. Still, he wasn't leaving until they hashed this out. Wounds of any kind were always worse when left to fester.
"I'm not leaving until you open the door." He banged his fist in the center of the wood, using more force than necessary
"Damn it, Lacey." Candice's voice was muffled. "It's ten o'clock in the morning! My neighbor will call the cops. She lives for this kind of shit!"
"I can't talk to him right now," Lacey said in a rush. "Tell him I'll call him tomorrow."
"I'm not leaving, Lacey," he warned in a steely voice, loud enough for her to hear. "Like it or not, you're going to hear me out. You owe me that after last night."
"I owe you? I fucking owe you?"
More bickering took place before he heard feet stampeding toward the door. A chain rattled, the deadbolt slid free and suddenly he was face-to-face with a very livid Lacey.
"That's rich, Michael. Who in the hell do you think you are?"
He didn't answer and forced his way inside. She shrieked in outrage, pounding his shoulders with her balled fists.
"Get out, do you hear me? Get out!"
The moment the door was closed, he wrapped his arms around Lacey despite her outraged cursing and thrashing. He peered over her head and met Candice's furious glare.
"Can we have some privacy?"
Candice folded her arms over her chest. "What makes you think you deserve that?"
"I'm here to explain and apologize." He grunted when Lacey landed a hard blow to his ribs.
"You stay right where you are, Candy." Lacey panted between kicks and slaps. "He's not staying."
"I wager I'll be here as long as I like, darlin'." He tightened his hold, trapping her against his chest.
"Damn it! Let go of me, you overbearing bastard!"
"I'm not letting go. You're going to listen to what I came here to say."
"The hell I am!" She landed a hard heel to his shin and kept squirming. "You're going to walk out the door and hope it doesn't hit you in the ass on the way out!"
A loud boom from the adjoining wall was accompanied by a furious bellow. "Keep it down or I'm calling the police!"
Lacey stopped struggling and Michael said a silent thanks to the pissed-off neighbor for intervening and making things easier. "I need to talk to you. If you want me to go after I've had my say, I will."
"I don't want to hear it. I want you to leave."
"That's tough shit, because I'm not going anywhere." When she started to argue he asked, "Do you want the neighbor to call the cops?"
That seemed to get her attention. "Okay, fine," she grumbled. "Let me go and we'll talk."
The minute his arms loosened, she lunged away and scurried across the room. She didn't look at him as she slid into the large recliner next to the television, glanced at Candice and gave a curt nod.
Candice nailed him with a scathing look. "If you cross the line, you won't have to worry about my neighbor. I'll call the cops myself."
He watched Candice walk down the hall. When he heard a door close, he released the breath he'd been holding and cautiously made his way to the recliner. Lacey was curled up in a protective ball, her knees tucked to her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. Long gone was the seductive vixen he'd played with, fucked until she couldn't see straight and wrapped his body around when they drifted off to sleep. This was a woman who was defensive and on edge. The expressive face that told him so much the night before was no different now.
She might listen to what he said but her mind had already been made up.
He took a knee in front of her, desperate to touch her but unwilling to upset her further, and tried to remember what he'd planned to say.
"I can't do this, Michael." Her words were quietly spoken and even, the fight from earlier long gone. "I should have made things clear beforehand. I don't do casual sex. It's not my thing. Last night was wonderful but I'm not comfortable with your lifestyle, and after meeting your," the pain she experienced as she struggled for the proper terminology was etched all over her face, "slave this morning, I know I don't want to be."
"That's part of the problem. You don't know anything about my lifestyle," he said solemnly, inching closer. "I don't have---or want---a slave."
She narrowed her eyes. "Don't insult my intelligence. I met her. I talked to her. She offered to cook me breakfast for Christ's sake." He watched her grimace at the memory, as if it were the most reprehensible thing imaginable, and it was difficult to bite back a grin. She was not only adorable when she was angry, she was positively irresistible.
"I would never insult your intelligence, just as I would never insult you by bringing another woman into my home." He placed his hand over one of her socked feet. "It's true that I was involved with Aly, but the relationship ended long before I met you at Haddie's. It's been over for months."
The confusion and doubt that flickered across her face were immediately replaced with a steely anger. "She had a key to your house."
"No, she used the spare I keep under the flowerpot on the porch."
Lacey pulled her foot away. "She called you Master."
He sighed and gave her space. "Aly refers to all Doms as Master."
"She didn't just refer to any Dom. She referred to you as Master." She started to rise, straightening her legs. "Why are we even discussing this? It was fun, we enjoyed ourselves, and now it's over. End of discussion."
"All right, that's enough." He grasped her feet and held them firmly, ensuring she couldn't kick her way free. "You have every right to be upset, I'm not disputing that. But you've taken everything that's happened this morning entirely out of context. You are going to listen to me. It's not a request."
She didn't struggle, glaring at him. "There isn't anything you can say that's going to change my mind."
"Please." He maintained eye contact, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice even if she didn't want to place any faith in it. "Hear me out."
She studied him quietly before she rolled her eyes, exhaled as if annoyed and nodded.
"In order for you to understand what happened this morning, you have to understand the situation." He drew a deep breath, hoping like hell Lacey was the compassionate woman he believed her to be, and started from the beginning. "Aly met the man who introduced her to BDSM when she was seventeen. He was sixteen years older than her and took advantage of her inexperience and youth. By the time she graduated from high school she was living with him. He demanded a full-time, 24/7 D/s relationship. She lived with him for seven years as a full-time slave until a couple of years ago when he packed a bag, removed Aly's collar and told her he was moving. He'd already put the house on the market and purchased a condo in San Francisco. He left her with enough money to get back on her feet and start over."
The agitation in Lacey's face became replaced by sympathy. "That's horrible."
He nodded in agreement. "As someone who had been told what to do for over a quarter of her life, Aly had a hard time returning to a world in which she had to make all of her own decisions. Her family had cut her off when she left home, which meant she only had a few connections through the club. By the time I met her she'd managed to conceal just how much she needed the full-time lifestyle. We explored a relationship for a few weeks but when it became apparent that she was going to require that level of commitment I ended it and told her she needed to find someone who could give her what she needed."
"But she was at your house today, and she let herself in."
"It was bad luck. Aly's hurting and she came to me to see if I would reconsider. Your being there was nothing more than shitty fucking timing." He waited, allowing her to process the information. "Some Doms like to have more than one submissive. I'm not one of them. I don't have any interest in fucking other women or adding more to the mix. My kink doesn't extend to ménage situations, swapping up or multiples play. I don't want another woman, and as I sure as shit don't want another man touching you."
"What was last night to you?" Her tear-swollen eyes were pensive, her hair tangled around her shoulders. He heard the misery in her voice, saw how much it hurt her to ask the question. "Was I just some woman you brought home for the night?"
Moving closer, he lifted his hand and cupped her chin. "You will never be 'just some woman', Lacey. Last night was something I've never experienced before. Something special."
Tears were brimming in her eyes, the watery sheen so heavy that her misery would spill onto her cheeks and cascade down her face in salty trails.
"I don't know if I can believe that."
"Then let me prove it to you. I know this has happened fast between us---too fast in a lot of ways. Give me a chance to show you that you're the only woman I need." Rising over the couch, he leaned close, lips so near to hers he could feel the caress of her breath. "The only woman I want."
He waited, wanting her to make the decision, knowing that the choice to move forward was no longer his to make. It was agony, watching her eyes as she internalized his words, when all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she couldn't breathe.
"We're so different, Michael," she said after a lengthy pause. "Aside from great sex, we don't even know if we're compatible."
It was difficult not to demand that she remember everything they'd shared the evening before, to force her to face the fact that something was happening between them, when he realized she might not give them a second chance. Sure, there was sex, but there was also something a hell of a lot more substantial than a satisfying fuck. He'd once thought he was too proud to beg, but he was coming pretty damn close.
The thought of losing her before he ever had her...
"Don't walk away from something you might regret letting go of later. You might not want to admit it but we have a lot more in common than you think. I'm not just talking about kink. There is more than sex between us and you know it."
"I need some time to think." She shook her head, sighing. "First Scott and now you."
That brought him up short. "What about Scott and me?"
Her short laugh was a bitter. "I caught Scott in the copy room with his secretary. That was why I got stuck in the storm. He didn't expect me to show up at his office so he thought he would get away with it."
Calmness suddenly became anger. The pansy-ass attorney bastard had cheated on Lacey. The piece of shit had fucked around on her.
"I'm going to beat the hell out of him."
She blinked several times, as if she'd expected him to respond differently. "That's not necessary. He and Karen can have each other."
"You're damn right they can." He moved forward until his chest was pressed against her knees. "I'm nothing like Scott. He's a prick who has no idea what he let go."
They pulled apart at an unexpected pounding on the door, accompanied by a deep and commanding baritone. "This is the Pleasant View City Police."
Lacey eyes went wide in panic. "Oh no. Oh shit."
"Just great. Wonderful. Why don't we invite everyone over on my one day off?" Candice rushed into the living room, adjusting her robe, and she wasn't happy. "Thanks a lot, asshole," she snapped at Michael, gesturing toward the entrance to her apartment. "You wanted the cops? Call me the genie of your magic lamp. Why don't you greet our guest and make your wish?"
"Don't worry." He reassured Lacey with a wink, giving her leg a soft squeeze as he stood. "I've got it."
To Michael's relief, the voice coming from the other side of the door was one he recognized. So he wasn't shocked to see Brady Stone waiting on the other side. He was a big bastard, standing well over six feet, and though he preferred his women to give the orders, he was damn dangerous when provoked. As one of the submissives at Fantasia, Brady kept his social circles small, concerned word of his lifestyle could adversely affect his job.
Brady frowned when he saw him. "Mike? What the hell are you doing here?" He peered over Michael's shoulder and met Candice's outraged glare. When their gazes locked her expression changed, going from furious to ashen. She looked away, pulled her robe tighter around her and wrapped her arms around her waist.
"We received a call of a domestic disturbance." Brady continued staring at Candice, practically devouring her with his eyes.
"A disagreement, not a disturbance." Michael glanced at Lacey as she rose from the chair, coming into Brady's line of sight, and walked to the door. "Everything's fine now."
"Is that right?" Brady turned his attention to Lacey.
"Yes, it is." Lacey bravely walked over, although Michael noted the tentative falter in her step. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Officer," she glanced at his badge, "Stone."
Brady's lip quirked as he suppressed a smile. "Trouble in paradise, Mike?"
"Just a misunderstanding." Bending at the waist, Michael spoke quietly into Lacey's ear, "I understand that you need time to think but this isn't over. I'm not going to let you walk away. Not a second time."
God help him, she turned bright red, gnawed on her lip and nodded. Did she have any idea what that did to him? How much it turned him on? Made him want to draw her close, tear down her defenses and keep her by his side?
"Since that's settled," Candice remarked briskly, back to her usual demeanor, although she seemed damn determined not to look in Brady's direction, "do you mind getting the hell out of my apartment?"
Michael peered down at Lacey. "Can I drive you home?"
The indecision on her face was like a punch to the gut, which made the relief he experienced when she murmured, "Let me get my boots and bag," all the more profound. Candice followed behind Lacey as she went for her things, whispering something Michael couldn't decipher.
When they were out of earshot, Brady said, "It's about time you got back on the horse."
"That it is."
"Who is she? I've never seen her at the club."
"That's because she's never been to it."
"Really? A newbie?" Brady didn't attempt to mask his surprise.
Michael nodded curtly as Lacey returned, knowing exactly what Brady was thinking.
Newbies on the scene went one of two ways. They either embraced their inner kink or they shunned it. Whether in public or private, those who embraced their desires enjoyed the freedom it provided, while those who shunned it kept their less-than-vanilla sexual preferences under wraps, or lived a lie, or genuinely had zero interest in exploring the lifestyle. When it came to relationships in which one person was in the community and the other was not, there was very rarely any middle ground.
As Michael wrapped his arm around Lacey's waist, said goodbye to Brady and guided her toward the stairs, he decided that no matter what it took he would find a way to make things work.
It started with flowers.
Despite the fact that Michael drove her home, he didn't press the issue when Lacey informed him that she needed time to think things over. Instead he dropped her off without asking to come inside, told her he'd have her car brought to her the next day and said that she'd hear from him soon. She'd spent the day thinking things over but wasn't able to come to any definitive conclusions.
The very next morning as she sat down to return emails and reschedule the work she'd missed, she heard a knock on her door. Considering she was nowhere near town, she was impressed when she learned that not only had her vehicle been returned but a florist was waiting on her porch to present her with a large bouquet of roses.
The crystalline vase housing the flowers was squared, the etchings along the rim done by hand. There were a dozen roses total---six white and six red. After she closed the door and placed the arrangement on her coffee table, she examined the envelope. It was plain and white, without any adornments. Once she'd pulled open the flap and removed the card she discovered one word: Limousine.
Her breath caught and she ran her fingers along the cursive handwriting, recognizing the clear penmanship. Michael had written the note himself. She had no idea what it meant.
That was on Tuesday.
On Wednesday she received another floral arrangement, this time with a dozen yellow and pink blooms, and another plain card with Michael's handwriting that stated Seven o'clock.
She was tempted to call Michael and learn where he was going with his flowers and cryptic messages. Unfortunately her agent got wind of her request for a change in legal representation. That meant she spent a majority of her day on the phone, arguing over logistics and explaining exactly why it was she refused to remain the client of a cheating pig bastard.
On Thursday the florist arrived again, this time with a massive teddy bear. As she took the stuffed animal and accepted the envelope that came along with it, she felt her resolve crumbling. Aside from his cards, there had been no contact between them. She'd asked for space and he'd given her what she asked for. Opening the envelope, she found there was a single word scribbled across the surface of the card inside: Tomorrow.
Although she didn't know what he had in store, it wasn't difficult to put Limousine, Seven o'clock and Tomorrow together. Whatever was coming, she decided she wanted to be prepared.
Getting her hair done and legs waxed was easy, it was shopping that took more time than she would have liked. Was this a date of some kind? Or did Michael have something wickedly naughty up his sleeve? After choosing a simple black dress with gossamer sleeves and satin cuffs at the wrists, she went to the shoe store, purchased two pairs of shoes---red and black patent leather heels---and stopped by an exclusive and extremely expensive lingerie shop for a corset, panty, garter and stocking set. While she was there, she also chose a few of the same items in different colors. Considering she hadn't worn that kind of thing since college, her underwear drawer needed an update. Besides, a girl could never be too prepared.
She felt different as she stood before the dressing room mirror clothed in nothing but skimpy garments and fuck-me-silly heels. Never before had she dared to dress so provocatively. How would Michael react when he saw her like this? Or would he seize the opportunity at all?
On Friday morning she was awake and ready as a car pulled into her driveway. Only this time it wasn't a florist who greeted her---the man who knocked on her door worked for Rosie's Jewelry.
The sleek automobile stopped in front of her home and a man dressed in a suit stepped out. Whatever he was carrying was compact enough to fit inside a small bag he carried with his gloved fingers and was expensive enough that it required a signature. After she signed for the package and thanked him, the man gave her a smile, told her to have a nice day and off he went.
When she sat down on her sofa, removed the rectangular box from the bag and found a thin white gold-and-diamond-encrusted choker with the note Wear This, she knew it was time to make a phone call. If she was going to see where a relationship with Michael would take her, she needed to be armed with information that no mere Google search could provide. There was only one source who could give her the answers she needed most.
Candice seemed nervous---too nervous---when Lacey invited her to an early lunch. Fortunately, she accepted when Lacey told her it was important. Now, seated at one of the rear booths of the trendy Rolo's Café, Lacey watched and waited for her friend to arrive. Deep down she knew that Candice was holding out on her. If she was being honest, she'd known her friend was holding something back the night Candy had warned her to steer clear of Michael unless she was into kinky sex. The only reason she hadn't questioned Candy about how she knew so much was because it wasn't her business. Not to mention if it involved Candice's job, she'd be given the proper and well-deserved kiss-off. In light of recent events, however, Lacey decided to take all the information she could get---even if it meant crossing a line.
When Candice arrived she was weighed down by her usual gadgets---cell phone, laptop and camera. She was one of the best investigative reporters in the city for a damn good reason. Spotting Lacey, she hurried over and began pulling multiple straps from her torso. As she slid into the booth she placed her belongings on the floor near her feet.
"All right, spill." Candy sighed as she relaxed in her seat. "I had to ditch a kick-ass lead to meet you. This had better be good."
Taking a deep breath, Lacey recalled the speech she'd made in the mirror earlier in the morning. There was no time like the present to get the answers she wanted.
"I need you to tell me how you knew about Michael."
Candy looked up, obviously alarmed as the smile slipped from her face. She quickly recovered, hiding her shock with a faint laugh. "Knew what about Michael?"
"Don't do that. Not to me." Lacey smoothed her fingers over the expensive tablecloth, tearing her gaze away from her friend's face. "I'm not asking you to divulge personal details about your sex life or give me the inside scoop on a story. I'm asking you to tell me---a friend---how you found out about Michael and his lifestyle."
"What's with the sudden interest? What made you decide a relationship with Michael is worth exploring?" Candy continued acting as if she didn't understand---a helpful device perfected as an investigator.
"He's weakened my resolve this week with gifts." Lacey retrieved the box resting in her lap along with the simple card and extended them to Candice. "Michael sent this to me today. I think I know what it means but I could be wrong. I can't be wrong about this, Candy. I have to be certain."
Lacey could hear Candice swallow as she read the card, opened the box and glanced inside. "What makes you think I'd know anything?"
"Because you're the best at what you do, and if you were investigating or interested in the BDSM community---" Lacey stopped, worried she might go too far if she implied anything further, and searched for the right way to phrase what she needed to say. "You would have done your research. You always do."
A waitress started to walk past and Candice sat the box and card on the table and flagged her down. "Bring me a cosmo."
Lacey had never seen Candice drink during the day. Not even during college.
"Candy?"
"Not yet." She lifted a hand, shaking her head. "Not yet, Lace."
They sat in silence until her drink arrived. Candy didn't waste any time, throwing back the alcohol like a seasoned wino. When the glass was empty, she hunched over, pulled her purse from the floor and rummaged around in it until she produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
"When did you start smoking again?" Lacey gawked in disbelief when Candice put the filter between her lips, lit up and puffed through the side of her mouth like a pro. Lacey glanced around in panic and whispered in a rush, "Are you crazy? You can't smoke in here! Put that out!"
"Do you remember when I was working that case in Nashville involving the bootlegged moonshine?" Candice exhaled a large cloud of smoke.
The question caught Lacey off guard, especially since she was afraid they'd be busted and hauled off to jail at any moment for breaking the smoking laws. Nodding and waving her hand to ward off the fumes, she answered, "Vaguely."
Candy took another drag of her cigarette before she said, "It turned out to be a bust due to some family grudge that left me deep in the shit. At the time I was desperate for a story. Gerald had just gotten a big break on the drug bust in Rhea County and Archie was close to cracking the name of the gang responsible for the heist at First Franklin. When I went to scrounge for something I was offered a nice check to do an exposé piece on a super-exclusive club in Nashville---a fetish club."
"Excuse me, ma'am." A very stern voice interrupted their conversation as the manager of the restaurant walked up to the booth. "You can't smoke that in here."
"Yeah, yeah," Candy muttered, took one final puff and put the cigarette out in her glass of water. "Satisfied?" The warning look she shot the manager was enough to encourage him to leave but it left Lacey uneasy. Candice relied on her quick wit and unshakable control to do her job. Behaving like a rebellious teenager was completely out of character.
"So you met Michael at the fetish club?"
"Not exactly. I needed a cover, and the list of members I was given was slim. Mike was the easiest person to approach."
"I have a difficult time believing Michael would help you."
"He didn't want to." Reaching across the table, Candy helped herself to Lacey's untouched glass of water. "It took a little persuasion."
"What did you do?"
Candy took a large swallow before she answered. "I told him I would keep the identities of every person I came into contact with completely confidential if he got me in and let me mingle undisturbed."
"And if he didn't?"
"I'd find another source and reveal all."
"You blackmailed him?" Lacey was shocked at the fury she felt as she came to Michael's defense.
"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."
"Jesus, Candy."
"It wasn't so bad. Everyone came out clean. Mikey Boy wasn't thrilled but he knew that if he didn't agree I'd find another way in. Do you have any idea how many politicians like being ordered around and led on leashes? Those are the kinds of names you don't want spread around." Candice laughed softly. "That's why I chose Mike. There was no way the other people on the shortlist would have considered helping me out. It started out totally innocent. I mean, sure, some of it was hot---barely clad men, sex scenes performed right out in the open. You name it and I probably saw it. But it was a job, you know? I've investigated worse."
Lacey continued her questioning carefully, proceeding with caution. "So what happened?"
"On my final night, I met someone." Candice's expression screamed conflict and uncertainty. She shook her head as if shaking off the memory. "That part's not important." She met Lacey's concerned gaze. "Listen, kiddo. If you want to know if Mike's a good guy, I can only tell you that of all of the Doms I met at Fantasia, he was the one I would have trusted most. He was seeing someone at the time, and even though she didn't mind sharing if that's what he wanted, he did mind, which gives him major brownie points in my opinion. There were a few times when he played with her in public but sex was never involved. For the most part he seemed interested in being around his friends in the establishment."
"And the necklace?" Lacey motioned at the box resting on the table.
"If I were a betting woman, I'd put money down that he wants to take you to the club or maybe a very private play party. Collars vary, but anything around the neck inside Fantasia means you're spoken for and off limits. The people who host parties of their own are usually members of the club and follow the same protocol. There's no way he'd allow you to enter either without one. If I learned one thing about Mike, it's that he's possessive."
Lacey retrieved the box and opened it, staring down at the rows of sparkling stones. "I don't know what to do."
She didn't expect Candice to respond. The idiot jock who broke her heart in college had ensured she didn't have much faith in relationships or men. So she was slightly stunned when she did.
"Do you love him?"
Sighing, she closed the box. There it was. The big question. The one she'd asked herself more than once. Logic and reality told her it was too soon, but she'd never felt this way about anyone before.
"I hardly know him."
"Allow me to rephrase. Could you love him? If the kink wasn't an issue, could you see yourself with him in the long term?"
"The kink isn't the issue." Lacey was amazed at how easy it was to admit and felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders despite Candice's questioning look.
"So what's holding you back?"
"I don't ever want to feel like that again---facing some woman from his past. It wasn't like meeting an ex-girlfriend or lover. This..." She tried to construct her thoughts. "It was beyond humiliating. I get sick just thinking about it."
"Then you're going to have to decide if he's worth taking a chance on."
"Like you did with your mystery lover?"
"We're not talking about me."
Candice seemed relieved when their waitress arrived to take their orders. As the server walked away she reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone, which was buzzing madly. One glance at the screen and Candice began spewing a line of obscenities under her breath.
Lacey studied her closely. "So you've been busy this week?"
"You could say that."
"Every time I tried you at home this week you were out." She kept her tone light, hoping her friend wouldn't see where she was going with the conversation.
Candice snorted. "Thus is the life of an investigative reporter. When duty calls, thou must answer the summons."
"So you were working earlier?"
"Yes, Lacey." Candice ran her fingers across the screen of her phone. "In order to pay the bills, I have to put on my big girl panties and go to work."
"When I called you today, I had to leave a voice mail."
"Yeah, and?" Candice shrugged, staring at the screen. "I called you back."
"You're always at home when you're not working, and you never send your calls to voice mail."
"I could be turning over a new leaf in life."
"Or you could be hiding something."
Candice snorted. "I think someone is trying to play at my job."
Lacey's memory of Candice's odd behavior when the police officer arrived at her apartment surfaced. She'd been distracted by everything that had happened between her and Michael that morning, but not so much that she didn't see the look that passed between her best friend and the enormous man in uniform. And Michael obviously knew Officer Stone. Their conversation had been too casual for the men to have been mere business associates.
A dawning comprehension brought it all together.
"No, you're not hiding something." Lacey gazed at Candice with a knowing look. "You're hiding from someone."
"I told you this isn't about---"
"About you, I know." Lacey sat back. "It's about the ginormous police officer who responded to the disturbance call at your apartment."
It had been years since she'd seen Candy frazzled and off balance. In fact, Lacey could pinpoint the last time she'd witnessed the cool and collected reporter without her security blanket of control---the night she'd lost her virginity to an asshole who wooed her, gained her trust and fucked her as part of a pledge to his fraternity. After he'd revealed what he'd done he'd kicked her out of his room to do the march of shame from his dorm. That one joke had irrevocably changed a girl who had once been eager to smile at a stranger and trust the opposite sex. Overnight, a disillusioned woman took her place. A woman who didn't believe in love, relationships or the good in man.
Candice started collecting her belongings and pulled cash from her wallet. "I'm not discussing this right now. I've got a lot of shit to do."
Lacey reached out to stop her and Candice shrugged away from her touch as she rose from the table and threw two twenty-dollar bills on the table.
"I can't believe I'm about to say this." Candy adjusted the numerous straps over her shoulders, the motions of her hands jerky. "You wanted to know about Michael Gilchrist? Here you go. He's a nice guy. I worked the piece for two weeks and in that time he was never anything but a total fucking gentleman. Someone like me doesn't trust men but I know he has feelings for you. I could see it in the way he looked at you at Haddie's. I was just worried that the rosy gloss was an act, and I didn't want him to hurt you. Knowing what I do now, I never should have said a word."
Candice's cell started buzzing again. "Goddamn it!" She yanked the phone out of her pocket, pressed a couple of buttons and stared at the screen. What she saw caused her cheeks to turn red and her lips compress. "You ballsy son of a bitch."
"Who is it?"
"Nothing." Candice didn't look up from the phone.
Again, nothing like the Candy she knew. Her friend was totally avoiding her question, and she was doing it on purpose. "I didn't ask what it was, I asked who it was."
Candice looked at her. "Don't take this the wrong way, but it's none of your business."
"Ouch. Harsh much?"
"Look, I'm sorry." Candice's face reflected her apology. "I'm tired and cranky and I'm being a bitch. I'll call you later, okay? I'm working on a story and it's kicking my ass."
"Don't leave." Lacey shifted toward the end of the booth. "We don't have to talk about anything. Just sit down, enjoy your meal and relax."
"I can't. I'm sorry, Lace." Candice's voice was shaken, her hand trembling as she returned the phone to her pocket. "I'll call you when things settle down."
Lacey watched, confused, as Candice shouldered past the waitstaff in her path, walked past the bar and exited the building. Candy would never admit it but something had gotten to her recently. It might be work-related, but somehow Lacey didn't think so.
She had a decent idea of who her best friend was running from---like a G.I. Joe he came complete with muscles, a gun and a uniform---she just didn't know why.
\*
"Come in!" Michael yelled as he exited the bathroom upstairs and adjusted the bowtie at his throat. Jacob wasn't supposed to arrive with the limo for another hour.
Please don't let it be bad news.
Staying away from Lacey for an entire week had been hell. There was no way he was going to last several hours without her, much less another day.
The doorbell rang again and he rushed down the stairs, careful not to slide on the wood, slip and break his neck. As he approached the door, he knew it wasn't Jacob. The visitor, who was facing away, was too large and broad. He stifled a groan when the man turned and he saw his face. He'd expected this. From the moment he'd seen the looks exchanged between his friend and Candice Bradshaw, he'd known this was coming. But now was not the fucking time.
"Brady," he said as he opened the door.
The brick shit house didn't offer a greeting as he walked past Michael and into the house. He was out of uniform---dressed in a pair of jeans and a skintight navy polo---but Michael was well aware that the cop was armed. More than likely a gun was tucked on Brady's ankle. Ever since he'd been in a store robbery without his weapon, he never went anywhere without one. Brady turned around in the center of the living room, placed his arms over his chest and set his feet shoulder's width apart.
"Tell me about her."
Michael closed the door. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything I can't get from our records database. She's not a member of Fantasia but she was there during the Halloween Masquerade. I did some digging and found out you were her host at the event. I want to know why you invited her and why she hasn't returned."
"Can I ask why?"
Unfolding his arms, Brady shifted his weight uncomfortably. "We struck up a conversation at the bar and eventually we took it somewhere private."
Shit. Candice and Brady? It would have been laughable if the man standing before him wasn't dead serious.
"She approached me about writing a piece on the club, and I agreed to get her in if she kept the intimate details---including names---out of her article. I got her in for a couple of weeks to get a feel for the lifestyle and the people. That's it."
Brady's face fell. "She's not a Domme?"
"If she is, she didn't share it with me." He couldn't answer that question, even if he wanted to.
Candice Bradshaw exuded a dominant vibe, but so did a lot of people. During the two weekends she'd spent at Fantasia, their personal encounters and chats had been brief. He hadn't wanted to discuss his personal life and neither had she. He came and visited friends while she mingled at the club as a Domme without a sub. Since she was extremely picky and standoffish, it worked perfectly. He protected his club while she got her story.
"If she's not a Domme, why was she pretending to be one?"
"She asked to get into the club for an exclusive story. That meant she had to blend in. We both know how it can be for a submissive. It was best, in her case, that she portrayed herself as a dominant."
"What the fuck?" Brady sent an angry glare in his direction as he put the pieces together. "She was the one who wrote the article on Fantastia in Pleasant View Living, wasn't she? Why would you expose the club like that?"
"Because the snitch would have gotten in if I hadn't and possibly revealed names. The deal was she would keep the identities of the members secret and I would help her get a story."
"So you don't know anything about her?"
"I knew her when she was just a kid, before she left for college. We didn't talk much when she returned, aside from saying hello when we crossed paths. I was actually shocked when she approached me about Fantasia."
"Did you discuss anything when you took her to the club?"
"Afraid not. Since I wasn't comfortable with the idea of getting her in, and she wasn't exactly social, we parted ways at the door."
"Shit." Brady combed his fingers through his hair. "No wonder she's been avoiding me."
"You've tried talking to her?"
Brady nodded. "I approached her after you left the apartment but she acted like she didn't know who in the hell I was, thanked me for my time and closed the door in my face. I managed to get her phone numbers, but I haven't been able to get in touch with her. She won't return my messages and she's not been to her apartment all week. That's why I decided to come here."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Blackmail."
"Excuse me?" Michael asked.
"I'm resorting to blackmail. When she refused to return my calls, I used the only thing I had to get her attention."
"I've got to hear this."
For the first time, Brady cracked a smile. "She invited me to play in a private room. I found it odd, since most Dommes who don't know a sub won't consider doing anything with them in private or without a Dungeon Master. Now I'm thinking she did it so that the encounter would be completely private."
"How do you plan to use that as blackmail?"
"She chose the first empty room we came to that had a bed and a lock on the door." Brady's smile turned to a grin. "The video room."
Michael returned Brady's grin despite himself. That's what you got when you fucked with karma. The video room was used by exhibitionists who were also voyeurs and liked to watch themselves as they played. The moment the lock was engaged, it triggered the camera hidden in the mirror across from the bed. Every single minute of their encounter would have been digitally stored in the computer upstairs.
"She knows you have the video?"
"I texted a screenshot to her earlier today with the message that I'd be at her apartment tomorrow night. She hasn't responded yet, but I still plan on showing up. She owes me an explanation at the least."
"Somehow I don't think she'll take kindly to you pushing the issue."
"I didn't take kindly to being left tied to a bed until a DM came along and found me with my pants down."
Michael couldn't help but chuckle at the visual. An enormous man left helpless on a bed by a woman who was lucky to be an inch or two over five feet. "Seriously?"
"I shit you not."
"I suppose I can't feel too sorry for her then."
"I didn't know anything about her. When she split, there was nothing to go on. I tried frequenting the club but she never showed again. I'd almost given up until I saw her last weekend." Brady finally seemed to notice the dress slacks, shirt and tie. "Going somewhere?"
Michael tugged at the bowtie, recalling all too well why it was that he never frequented the upper-class restaurants in the city. "To dinner and a private party if things go well."
"The same newbie I met at Candice's?"
"She's Candice's best friend."
"What party are you taking her to?"
"Trevor and Brian are having an informal play party. I figured I'd let her watch. If she's game for more I'll set something up at Fantasia."
"And if she isn't?"
Michael tried to ignore that heavy weight inside his chest. It was a question he'd asked himself a thousand times as he'd carefully planned out his seduction, searching for the proper way to introduce her to his world and earn her trust. But trust only went so far. The desire to engage in what he wanted and needed had to be something she reciprocated. If not, they'd be living a lie, and eventually it would all fall apart.
Meeting Brady's expectant gaze, he repeated the same thing he'd told himself in the mirror each time the devil on his shoulder reared its ugly head.
"I'll have to do the right thing."
"Which is?"
"The same thing you will if things don't pan out with Candice." Michael turned away and started back up the stairs. "I'll have to let her go."
It felt as if her nerves were shot, her sexual frustration at an all-time high. Michael had arrived in the limo at seven o'clock as promised, dressed to the nines in a spiffy suit, bowtie and shiny dress shoes. His face was cleanly shaven and his hair was neat and pulled back at the nape with a leather tie. He appeared so different from the man who'd bent her over the spanking apparatus in his home, stirring a fire in her blood.
Even worse, his touches were fleeting, his mannerisms those of a man taking a date to dinner for the first time. From time to time his eyes betrayed him, those ice blue irises flaring when turned in her direction. Unfortunately those long, tanned fingers stayed exactly where they belonged and he kept enough space between them that she could feel the heat of his body but was unable to bask in it.
He took her to the posh Le Mer restaurant in Nashville. She was nervous from the moment she exited the vehicle, unable to relax until she took her seat at a table situated in the far end of the room. From her seat she could see everything, although the curved wall surrounding them practically obscured her and Michael from view.
Michael chose the wine and they gave the server their orders. With a curt nod, the waiter walked away and left them alone at the table. She tried to initiate a conversation with the eye candy across from her but the words wouldn't come out. Whereas Michael was clearly in his zone, looking good enough to eat, she felt uncertain and awkward.
"I was worried you wouldn't join me tonight," Michael said, breaking the silence.
The tension at the back of her neck diminished. A safe conversation. Not a bad way to start the evening. "After all the gifts you sent, how could I possibly say no?"
"So that's what it takes to get on your good side." His seductive gaze made her insides puddle.
"Bribery never hurts."
"Are you still angry with me?" He didn't look away and she knew he was intentionally gazing into her eyes, forcing her to answer honestly. "Have you had enough time to sort things out?"
"I'm not angry." She told herself to be truthful, even if it was difficult. "I'm just confused."
"About?"
"The fantastic evening we shared that was destroyed by a former lover who showed up at your doorstep."
"A former lover who had no business being there in the first place," he reminded her. "I was just as angry as you were."
"I somehow doubt that."
"Why?"
She wanted to tell him because she was the one who'd had to face Aly when he was nowhere in sight. Humiliation took on a whole other meaning when she got a slice of humble pie.
"I felt betrayed."
"Now we're getting somewhere." Placing his elbows on the table, he continued, "Betrayal is an interesting thing, because the emotion can exist even if there isn't a solid foundation for it. That's why most marriages fail, you know. The lack of communication and trust creates a roadblock. It's important to always tell me how you feel, even if it makes you uncomfortable."
"You can tell I'm uncomfortable?"
"Extremely."
"I don't want it to happen again." Shit. She'd come right out and said it.
"I can't promise unexpected people won't show up on my doorstep, but since I removed my spare key I can assure you no one will enter my home again unless we extend an invitation."
"We?"
"Did you honestly think I'd send you gifts and bring you here if I didn't intend to have you at my home as often as possible?"
If the chair she was seated in hadn't been holding her ass in place, she was fairly certain she would have swooned and tottered to the floor. He smiled and reclined in his chair as the server returned with their wine, filled their glasses and left again.
"Tell me about you, Lacey."
The request was so surreal. He'd seen her posed in the most intimate ways, yet she had only told him bits and pieces about her life. "What do you want to know?"
"Start at the beginning."
"The beginning?" She laughed and reached for her glass. "I was born, I grew and here I am."
"What about your parents?"
"What about them?" She took a sip of the wine and rolled the bittersweet liquid in her mouth.
He took her teasing good-naturedly. "How do they feel about their daughter moving miles from home to live in a rural town?"
"They didn't mind. I was away at college for several years and they'd already retired and started traveling the world. They drop postcards in the mail and call once a week."
"You went to Berkeley, right?"
She was impressed. Michael had obviously done his homework. "Yes. It's where I met Candy."
"It's hard to imagine you two becoming friends." When she frowned he explained, "You're nothing alike."
She jumped to her friend's defense, feeling her temper come to life. "Candy isn't the same woman she was in college."
"None of us are."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Invisible scars." Michael's deadpan statement agitated her. "Easy to spot if you're looking."
"What would you know about it?"
"Enough." He placed his forearm on the table. "I knew Candice when she was just a teenager, before she decided to hold a grudge against the world."
"That's not fair."
"I'm not insulting her, Lacey," Michael clarified, and she realized he was taking cues from her body language---namely the fisted fingers wrapped around the stem of her glass.
She allowed her fingers to go limp and took a deep breath. "It doesn't sound that way."
"Listen," Michael sat up, his expression no longer matter-of-fact but tender, "I was merely stating a fact. I never would have thought the two of you were friends."
She attempted steer the conversation to a safe place. "How about you? Did you go to college?"
"I got my associate degree in business before I decided I wanted to work for my father. It didn't take long for me to figure out I was more comfortable in jeans and grease than I was sitting behind a desk."
She brought the glass to her lips and asked, "So your father started the company?"
He nodded. "He opened Mike's Wrecker shortly after I was born. He must have known or hoped I'd take over, since he started the business while I was only in diapers."
"What about your mom?"
"She was an RN."
"Was? What does she do now?"
Michael's eyes darkened, becoming reflective. "She passed away several years ago."
"I'm sorry." She returned her glass to the table before he could see her hand shaking.
Open mouth, insert foot.
"It's okay." He lifted his glass. "Both of my parents are deceased, actually. I've had time to come to grips with it."
"Both of them?"
"My mother had an aneurysm. It was unexpected and devastating. My father had a difficult time letting her go, so he started drinking. One night he had one too many and he lost control of his car. He crashed down a ravine not far from home and died on impact."
"Oh God, Michael." She ached to reach over the unbearable distance created by the table and smooth the lines around his mouth.
"They always said they couldn't exist without each other. I learned the hard way that they weren't lying." He shrugged and put down his drink. "It was a long time ago."
"Is that what you want?" Her heart lodged in her throat and she wanted to slap herself as the question flew from her mouth. She felt the telling heat of embarrassment staining her cheeks as a loud roar engulfed her ears. He was talking about his dead parents and she wasn't filtering anything she said. "To find a commitment like that, I mean." She rushed to clarify. "Not dying after the loss of another person."
"My parents were the ultimate example of what I wanted for myself. I've never seen two people more devoted to each other. Even as they got older, they behaved like teenagers, sneaking kisses when they thought I wouldn't see or rushing upstairs for time alone when I was visiting. If I didn't know any better I'd say that each time I drove over for Sunday dinner they used it as an excuse to turn back the clock and pretend they were newlyweds who had to sneak moments together since they had a rambunctious toddler underfoot."
Unsure of how to respond, Lacey was grateful when the server arrived with the entrees. She was too wired to eat, so after forcing a few bites down she shuffled the food around her plate. When she glanced across the table, she noticed Michael was doing the same. The silenced stretched, becoming miserable, until he placed his fork on his plate and gave her his undivided attention.
"My parents taught me a lot about who and what I am. My father was a Dom and my mother was a submissive." When her eyes went wide and her lips parted in shock, he laughed. "I suppose that's where it comes from. I wasn't fully aware of their kink until I was a teenager and started to notice certain things and decided to break into what I was always told was my parents' private office."
"A playroom?" She was grateful her voice didn't crack.
He smiled and gave a humored nod. "My mother doted on my father and he treated her like a queen. If I was given the choice of what I wanted in a partnership, it would be to have what they did." He didn't look away when he went quiet, studying her. Then he said softly, "It's something I want to share with you, Lacey."
"How is that even possible?" She struggled with the questions in her mind. "Can you have a family and that kind of a relationship?"
"I asked Dad about it when I graduated high school and discovered I had a lot more fun holding girls down than I did chasing them around. He was a straight shooter about everything and didn't try to hide or keep anything from me. It is tricky, especially when children are involved, which is why I believe they decided I was more than enough. Finding sitters so they could have time wasn't easy, especially when they worked and their schedules kept them apart."
"You want children?" The question hovered in the air, as did the sexual tension that had crept upon them.
"Yes." His deep and husky voice caused her panties to become drenched. She'd forgotten how potent one word could be when it came from Michael.
"So all of the things you said," she gulped, struggling to control the erratic beating of her heart, "all of the talk of marriage, kids, the white picket fence, a dog...it was all true?"
"What did you think it was, angel?" His eyes darkened, becoming liquid sapphire as he bestowed the endearment.
"I didn't know. Everything was so confusing when Aly showed up. Everything you said, everything I believed." Shaking her head, she glanced at her plate, incapable of finding the right words. When she gazed up at him, she attempted to convey what she felt through her eyes. "What do you want from me?"
"Everything," he responded, waiting until the significance of what he said soaked in before he continued. "This moment, right now, is our second chance." He took the napkin from the table and tossed it over his half-eaten plate. "I can't change what happened. I regret it, even though it wasn't my fault. You have to know by now that it wasn't something I wanted to happen. You're going to have to make a decision. Leave the past behind---here and now---or I'll take you home and we can end things before someone gets hurt."
"How long do I have to decide?"
"You've had your time. If you don't know what you want by now, you're never going to." His lips curved wryly. "You don't strike me as a woman who is indecisive, and since you're wearing the necklace I have a pretty good idea on where we stand."
"So it is more than a gift." A flush swept from her head to her toes, hardening her nipples into aching points and venturing lower to heat and moisten the apex of her thighs.
"Much more." His sexy grin put her temperature to a hot simmer. "Have I told you how much I love that color? When you blush, I imagine pink blossoming all over your body."
"You're trying to embarrass me." She ducked her head because she felt her face growing warmer.
"Can't have that, can we?" She glanced up and he leaned over his plate, closing the distance between them. "I have an invitation to a party tonight. It's a private gathering, which means that you don't have to worry about indiscretion. All you have to do is a little something for me, so that I know you want this as much as I do."
"What do you want me to do?" Her chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe. She recognized the look in his eye and her body started to tremble when he sat back and his expression changed.
"Take off your panties and give them to me."
"Do what?" She muffled the question, whispering as loudly as she dared and glanced around the restaurant. Everyone seemed oblivious to the conversation taking place between her and Michael. Fortunate, since she was as unnerved as she was keyed up. There was sternness in Michael's gaze when she stopped looking around and gawked at him.
"If you want this, I want your panties---now." The change in his voice told her that he was no longer asking.
She opened her mouth and closed it, like a guppy that jumped to freedom from the tank only to find the world outside wasn't as it seemed. Her morality battled her sexuality. Even as she told herself it was wrong another, wilder portion of herself urged her to place her hands under her dress, tug the panties slowly past her ass and remove them so she could do as he desired.
Bless me, Father, for I'm about to sin.
After a brief hesitation, she gave in to the louder voice that appealed to her darker, more sensual nature. Kicking off her heels, she brought her hands to her dress and lifted it. Removing the clasps attached to her corset and stockings was easy. The hard part was pulling the panties down without shifting too much and drawing the attention of the server or someone in the restaurant. Michael watched her the entire time, his eyes never losing focus. When she finally had the skimpy underwear around her ankles she bent to the side, lifted her feet to slide them off and wadded the lace in her fist.
"Hand them to me." He extended his hand directly over the table and she froze, mortified that someone might see her passing such an intimate article of clothing to her date in public. If Michael was angry it didn't show, though he warned, "I'm not going to ask again."
She watched, horrified, as she did as he told her. He took the black lace into his hand and promptly brought the cloth to his nose. The visual obliterated her fear and she was suddenly aware of just how cold the air felt against her bare pussy. A pulse of wet warmth coated her cleft and she blushed as she imagined a stain on her dress, allowing God and everyone in the restaurant to know just how turned-on she was.
"I love the way you smell, Lacey." He lowered his hand and tucked the panties into the inner pocket of his jacket. His grin was enough to make her insides wilt. "It makes me want to bend you over this table and fuck you until you can't breathe."
He rose from his chair, walked to her and assisted her from the seat. She frowned as he took her directly to the coat check, retrieved their jackets and didn't bother paying for their meal.
"What about the bill?" she asked as he helped her into her coat.
"Already taken care of." He turned her toward him and pulled her close. "The same man who owns Le Mer also owns Fantasia. All of the people seated near us are avid players." As she gazed into his eyes, becoming lost in their blue depths, he murmured, "I would never embarrass or hurt you. That first act was one of trust. No one seated near us would ever dare say a word because it's not something they'd even bat an eyelash at."
"So they knew?"
"Not everything, but since I've never brought a woman here before, I'm sure they appreciated the importance---and significance---of the evening."
Her gaze lowered to his mouth and a molten heat built in her belly. It had been over a week since she'd felt the pressure of his lips on hers, since she'd tasted that salty, sweet taste that was all Michael.
As if he read her thoughts, he pulled back. "Not yet."
"Why?" She fought the wisps of fire spreading through her stomach, causing her to become wetter, priming her for whatever it was he wanted.
"Building anticipation can make the consummation so much more powerful. Trust me. When we get to the party, you'll understand."
"What if I don't want to wait until the party?" she snapped, sexually frustrated and hot as hell after a week of dreaming of her date turned tormentor.
His voice was stern but there was humor in his expression. "I'd say that you'd best remember that I'm the one who calls the shots. Keep complaining and not only will I tan your beautiful ass, I'll put a pocket rocket in that needy pussy of yours and leave you aching for hours before I let you come."
"You wouldn't."
He guided her toward the doors and lowered his head. "Are you sure enough about that to take the risk?"
Deciding she certainly wasn't, she kept her complaints to herself.
He opened the door and the winter air soared up her skirt, frigid and almost painful against her unprotected, overly warm and sensitized flesh. As the breeze cooled her off, she said a silent prayer of thanks to Mother Nature for managing to prevent at least one forest fire.
Michael opened the door, training his face to remain blank as Lacey slid into the seat and scooted to make room for him. Instead of the space he'd insisted on before, he kept zero distance between them, pulling her snug against his side, and placed his hand on her knee before guiding his palm up until it rested between her thighs.
He could feel the heat radiating from her cunt, and he remembered how delicious her panties smelled. She wanted this, even if she was a nervous and inexperienced player. While a part of him worried she might balk when faced with naked submissives at the feet of their masters, attentive to them and only them, he had a good idea that she would find some eroticism in the act. Of course the other area, in which those with a taste for exhibitionism would be, was the one place he wanted to take her most. He still recalled how her lids drooped and her eyes clouded when he'd stroked his cock, as if she were mesmerized by the act of him pleasuring himself.
In fact...
"Lacey," he purred into her ear, aware that she shivered at the contact of his lips against her delicate skin. "Do you still want to come?" She nodded, gasping for breath, and he smiled. "Then touch yourself."
Her eyes flickered to the black partition between the driver and the occupants before she looked at him. Although the fiber optic lighting in the back was set to dim, he could clearly see her face. Her green irises were barely visible, little more than small rings containing her dilated pupils.
"I can't do that."
He removed his hand from her thigh, collected her own which was resting on the seat, and brought it back to the area where the skirt was hiked due to his touch. "No one will see and no one will know. Trust me."
Her fingers were trembling as he released her hand and she slowly parted her legs. He lifted her skirt, revealing the loose clasps of her luscious black garters, until her mound was visible. Before she made contact, her fingertips skimming over her upper thighs, she stiffened and shook her head.
"I can't."
He caved to her nervousness, wanting to give her pleasure and ease her anxiety while exploring something new. "Let me help you."
Grasping her fingers, he used his free hand to spread her legs wider as he brought her fingers to the lips of her sex. He could already see the glistening wet beads of her arousal, tempting him to take a knee in front of her, bury his head in the paradise he longed for and eat her pussy until she was panting for more. The first brush of her fingers against her labia caused her to moan and she widened her legs even farther without encouragement.
"Focus on your clit," he ordered in a hoarse, throaty growl.
As she moved her fingers to the button at the top, he placed two fingers together and slid them easily within her satiny depths. The heat that wrapped around his digits was pure fire, liquid and blistering. When her softness pressed against his knuckles, he turned his fingers and began brushing them along her vaginal walls, searching for and quickly finding that sensitive spot within. She arched into his fingers and began rubbing frantically at her clit, her shallow intakes of air sporadic.
"That's it, angel. I want you to come on my fingers. I want to feel you spasm all around them. And when you do, I want you to imagine it's my cock inside you, thick and hard. It is, you know. I've been hard as a fucking diamond ever since I picked you up. It's been torture keeping my hands to myself. Make it worth my while. Show me that you're worth waiting for."
She groaned and he moved, aligning their bodies until their mouths met. He kissed her deeply, taking total control until she was left with no choice but to accept what he wanted. His tongue met hers, brushed against it, and she abruptly pulled away, her desperate emerald eyes practically pleading.
"Please..." The request was a whimper, brought about when he rubbed his fingers just inside her. He wanted to take his time and bask in her surrender. Instead he rewarded her for remembering to ask for permission, for submitting to him without restraint.
"Come for me."
Her back arched and she cried out as her pussy contracted around his fingers, going tight and loose only to start all over again. He was powerless to turn away as he watched her climax. The light captured her parted lips, blush-stained cheeks and the heavy fringe of her eyelashes as they fluttered closed. As the final shudders passed, her fingers stilled at her clit, slid down and became languid over his hand.
"You're so fucking gorgeous."
He pulled his fingers free and took the opportunity to taste the honey he'd denied himself. This was to take the edge off, to make sure that when she arrived at the party she wasn't so wired she'd jump the gun and do whatever he wanted just to alleviate the ache. He reattached the clasps on her garters, skimming his fingers over her stockings, and pulled her skirt down. She turned to him, placing her head in the crook of his neck.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me."
When she lifted her head and frowned, he grinned. It was wrong to show her so much so soon, but he couldn't prevent the rate at which things were progressing. He wanted her completely. If things went as he hoped, this was the start of the journey.
"I expect to be compensated. I won't tell you how or when but I'll expect you to do whatever I ask, whenever I ask." She blushed again and uncertainty returned to her gaze. "Do you remember what I said about trust?" he asked. "You have to trust me or none of this will work."
After a moment she nodded and rested her head against him.
"That's my brave, brave girl," he whispered into her hair and settled back, getting comfortable for the trip to Trevor's lush estate nestled on the outskirts of town.
The euphoric feeling left over from the orgasm, which had almost put her to sleep in Michael's arms, vanished the instant he nudged her slightly and pointed in the direction of oncoming lights. It hadn't been an extremely long trip, but once they'd left the city Michael had adjusted a knob along their seat and it had become dark in the limo. Now a flood of soft white glow hit the window on her side, the tinted glass struggling to keep out the light.
Lacey sat straight and moved closer, gaping at the sight. The light came from the brick housing for a wrought iron fence. Even from the distance she could see the home the fence protected was extravagant and expensive. The gate opened and they passed through. A row of cars was parked inside the looping circle that created the driveway. A large marble fountain was directly in the center, complete with spouting water.
"Don't worry," Michael said, as if he could sense her anxiousness. "The house isn't entirely an indication of the owners. Trevor likes nice things but he comes from a white-collar family. His partner, Brian, is a computer programmer who designed software that netted him several million. Aside from their kink, they're far more average than you might think."
When the car stopped, she began smoothing her skirt and wished like hell that she'd had the foresight to wear something longer. The length wasn't indecent, hanging just an inch or two above the knee, but without panties it felt as if she was wearing a mini and flashing the world.
"When we go inside don't talk to anyone unless you're directly spoken to. Although this is a relaxed party, it is still a play party and there are rules. You'll address all Dominants as Sir and Mistress. Keep your eyes down unless told otherwise and follow my instructions. What are your safe words, Lacey?"
"Yellow and red." She hated how insecure she felt and she sounded.
"Yellow and red what?"
"Sir," she whispered, becoming hot using the term.
Michael cupped her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "Trust me, angel. That's what tonight is about, remember?"
Gathering her courage, she nodded, determined to take the plunge and learn more about her deviant appetites once and for all. The door to the limo opened and Lacey gasped when she saw Jacob. Since Michael had exited the vehicle to knock on her door like a gentleman, as well as assisted her in and out of the car, she hadn't been aware who the driver was. He was dressed similarly, in a nice suit with a silk tie.
"Hiya, Lacey." He stepped back and held the door open.
Keeping her hands on her dress and her knees locked firmly together, she managed to squirm off the seat without showing any unnecessary skin. Michael exited behind her.
"I'm going to park around the back." Jacob looked at Michael and waited for his nod before he took off, leaving them alone. She lifted her head, peering into Michael's face. Her stomach rolled as she realized she'd already broken one of the rules---eye contact---and quickly looked down.
"Good girl." He sounded pleased. "You're learning."
Instead of becoming angry at what might have been construed as an insult, she felt tingles in her stomach. Michael placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the house. The noise coming from inside was muted but the windows revealed the shadows of people. The door swung open before they had the chance to ring a doorbell or knock.
"Well, well, well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?" The voice was deep and slightly accented with a hint of what appeared to be a Scottish or Irish dialect.
"Shouldn't Trevor have you on a leash somewhere?" Michael asked good-naturedly.
"He wouldn't dare. I might be his bitch but not to that extent, and never in public."
"Lacey, this is Brian." Michael gently nudged her forward and uncertainty overwhelmed her. Did she extend her hand and say hello? Or did she just stand there like a mindless twit?
"You already have her tied up in knots. That's not nice at all." She felt fingers surround her chin and she lifted her gaze and peered into the most exquisite pair of gray eyes she had ever seen. He wasn't as tall as Michael but he was broader, and his coloring and notable brogue told her that she'd been correct in her first guess of his ancestry.
"What a pretty little thing you are." Brian smiled, his full lips parting to reveal a perfect smile. He ran his finger along her jaw and brushed his thumb across her lower lip, eliciting a startled intake of air. He grinned and glanced at Michael. "You're a lucky bastard. Do you know that?"
"Yes, I do." Lacey found herself out of Brian's hold and in Michael's arms in the same second. "Keep your hands to yourself."
"Still not sharing?"
"Hell no."
"It's a shame, greedy sod." Brian sighed and moved aside. "Come in. The night's not getting any younger."
Even though her gaze was lowered, Lacey was still able to see the submissive men and women seated at the feet of their masters and mistresses in the living room. Most were entirely naked with the exception of collars and cuffs, although a couple of the women did have sheer outfits that resembled something that would be suited for a harem. A few of the subs sent sidelong glances in her direction, but it was only obvious because she was studying them as well.
"We've sectioned off the entertainment room on the second floor for open play, which I'm sure you'll want to avoid this evening. Vaughn is in the kitchen doing a lesson on temperature and fire cupping, if you want to step in to take a look." Brian walked ahead, as if giving a tour. "The basement is set up with several play areas, if you'd like to watch and observe or play yourself. There are stations, including a few booths."
It was impossible to block out the moans from above as they exited the living room and passed under the archway of a double staircase. As they walked past an ornate dining room, Lacey glanced to the right and saw several people crowding the door to the kitchen. Muted whimpers came from the area. She blushed and kept moving. A woman or a man could be tethered to the kitchen table, naked as the day they were born, while all kinds of wicked things were performed on them in there.
After what seemed like an eternity Brian stopped and stepped aside, leaving them beside an enormous staircase that led down. "Before you leave tonight," Brian said, becoming serious, "you need to speak to Trevor. He's downstairs."
"It can't wait?" The hand at her back became firm and Michael's tone shifted from relaxed to guarded.
Despite Michael's earlier instructions, Lacey looked up to witness the exchange. Brian's friendly smile was gone, and when she looked at Michael he appeared angry. Brian peered over at her and shook his head before he took off in the opposite direction. Turning until they were facing each other, she placed a hand on Michael's chest. He glanced at her, and she could tell he was torn about something.
"Tell me what's wrong." She moved closer, until they were pressed against each other.
He didn't meet her gaze, focusing on their interlocked hands. "The day Aly showed up at my place, I told her that I was going to speak to Trevor about taking her on as a full-time submissive. She wasn't very receptive to the idea but she didn't argue. I assumed that meant she was going to do as I asked but now I'm not so sure. If Trevor wants to speak with me then something had to have gone wrong. Doms don't usually meddle in the affairs of submissives and their former partners. If they want answers they go directly to the source."
The mention of Aly's name revived anger and jealousy she'd almost forgotten. When she saw just how conflicted Michael was, she bit back the evil green monster.
"Should you talk to him now?"
"Probably." He lifted his head. "Trevor wouldn't have asked otherwise."
She felt her cheeks heat as she pictured Brian and Trevor intimately. She'd met plenty of gay couples in California but none of them had been so masculine. Usually she could tell when men were into other men.
"What is the deal with them? Are they a couple? Like a real couple?" Although she'd yet to meet Trevor, Brian had made it clear at the door that the other man was in charge.
"Are you asking who's the top and who's the bottom?"
"Brian doesn't seem like much of a submissive." She pictured the heat in Brian's stare when he'd touched her earlier. There was definitely a Dom vibe.
"That's because he isn't---not technically. He's a submissive, but only when it comes to Trevor, and they never play that way in public."
"How would something like that work?"
Michael's sexy grin made the warm champagne fizzle in her abdomen return. "They invite thirds into the mix when they're at the club, with both of them dominating."
"Oh." The flush that had started in her belly crept all over her skin, covering every single inch of her body.
"That's why I thought Aly would work for them. They don't have a permanent third but they've been searching for one for a long time."
"Two men at the same time?" She tried to wrap her head around two men telling her what to do and how to do it. As exciting as it was, it was also terrifying. With Michael it felt right. With someone else?
She shuddered.
"I'm glad to see that thought doesn't turn you on. As much as I want to fulfill all your fantasies, I don't share." His eyes slitted, going ice blue. "Ever."
He drew her into his arms as his mouth covered hers. His hand moved to her dress, delved beneath and raised the thin material until she felt the tepid air on her ass just before his palm covered it. He squeezed the bare skin as his tongue slid past her lips and stroked, the forceful plunges strong and deep. When he pulled away she dimly noticed her fists were clenching his jacket and her legs were almost as liquid as water. He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead before he playfully slapped her ass, removed his hand, readjusted her dress and took her hand.
"Come on."
He guided her down the stairs, keeping his grip snug around her fingers. There were actually two sets of stairs, but these were three times as wide as the ones at Michael's home. As they came down the final set, Lacey heard a soft moan followed by a sharp gasp. There was also the distinctive crack of a whip. It wasn't until they came into full view of the enormous room that she grasped the magnitude of what she was witnessing.
If Michael's basement was a playroom, this was a full-fledged dungeon.
The room was at least one hundred feet wide and possibly just as long. There were several areas being used, ranging from a spanking bench to a St. Andrew's Cross to a table where two men were engaged with one woman. One had his cock buried in her pussy. The other was driving his entire length deep into her mouth. Their leather pants were pulled down to their thighs and they were moving in tandem with each other, clearly demonstrating this was nothing new to them. Just as one withdrew from her lips the other rammed into her sex. The woman didn't seem to mind, bent over and utterly willing, eyes closed and tied hands forming limp fists at her back.
Michael's chuckle brought her out of her trance. "I knew you liked to watch."
He guided her past a girl bound in rope. Her eyes were closed and she was panting against the red ball gag in her mouth. Her Dom stood over her as he spoke to another man, their tones hushed. Lacey couldn't help but gape at the sight.
"Does the thought of being in her place excite you?"
She ripped her gaze away from the couple. "Uh..." She glanced at the woman and tried to imagine herself in her place. Naked, bound, gagged. No, it definitely didn't excite her.
"I see that it doesn't."
"I just... I don't know if..."
"Cat got your tongue?" He laughed and guided her forward. "Some people like to watch. Some people like to be watched. It doesn't always go hand in hand."
"It doesn't make you angry?"
"Not at all." He slid his hand to her ass and squeezed, using enough force she hissed. "I don't like to share, remember?"
Each scene was sectioned off so that every area was exclusive for the couple inhabiting the space. When they came to the far end of the room there was a man standing with his back to them. His long, shoulder-length auburn hair was beautiful against his black dress shirt, his shoulders sinewy but defined.
"Trevor," Michael said and the man turned.
Whereas Brian was in his late twenties or early thirties and was stout and sturdy, Trevor was tall, lean and nearing his forties. He had a thin beard, neatly trimmed, and his irises were a beautiful aquatic shade of blue. Those eyes seemed tumultuous until they landed on Michael and the lines around the edges smoothed, making the man appear several years younger. After a moment Trevor gazed at her, and his smile was equally as mesmerizing as his counterpart's.
"It's wonderful to see you here. Welcome to my home." He reached for Lacey's hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips were warm and gentle against her knuckles, his touch deliberate.
"You're as bad as Brian," Michael grumbled.
"We both admire and appreciate the same things." Trevor released her hand and stepped back. The fatigue returned his face, aging him once more. "I was hoping you'd come. We need to talk." He motioned to a plush leather couch against the wall, away from the scenes taking place.
Michael led her over and removed her coat. She waited, uncertain if he'd instruct her to sit at his feet as he shrugged out of his jacket. She barely contained a yelp when he pivoted around, swung her into his arms and sat on the couch with her in his lap. Trevor took a seat at the opposite end, leaving plenty of room, and reclined with one arm draped across the back.
Lacey melted at the brush of Michael's mouth against her ear just before he whispered in a low, alluring timbre, "While we talk, I want you to watch. I want you to learn what excites you and store it away for later. I'm going to give you a quiz and the lecture starts now. What do you say?"
"Yes Sir." Her body buzzed at the implication hidden within the words, the promise of something more to come. She gazed around the room as he ordered, trying to ignore the increasing dampness and pulsating thrum between her legs. It was a smorgasbord of sexual enticement, so much more than she'd ever seen through a grainy video online.
While she tried to tune out the conversation taking place between Michael and Trevor, it was impossible not to catch pieces here and there. Aly had apparently refused to cooperate. She and Trevor met to discuss a potential test arrangement. After a casual encounter at an agreed-upon coffeehouse, he'd given her some kind of questionnaire to gauge her needs and share his own. A few seconds of glancing over the questions was all she'd needed. She'd handed the folder back to Trevor, told him she wasn't interested and refused to talk to him when he asked for a reason.
"You knew that was a possibility," Michael said.
"I did," Trevor agreed. "Unfortunately I didn't know she'd feel so threatened by my proposal that she'd accept a public playdate with another Dom to solidify her decision."
Lacey's eyes drifted to a sub who was bound by what appeared to be pink plastic wrap as they continued speaking. Her arms were captured behind her back, forcing her full breasts forward. The nipples were pierced and a thin silver chain ran between the hoops adorning the pointed buds. Her Master was tracing a feather over her skin, causing her to writhe and squirm as a machine with an enormous plastic dildo fucked her from underneath.
She felt her cheeks grow hot. As sexy as it was, she could never do something like that in front of people. It was too intimate, too embarrassing. Watching it, however, made her excited in a way she'd never been before.
"Really?" Michael asked. "Who?"
"Conner." The menace in Trevor's voice ripped her eyes from the sex all around them. When in control, Trevor appeared refined and decisive. When angry, he was absolutely frightening. His upper lip was pulled into a sneer and his brows were furrowed.
Michael tensed beneath her, the hand that had been creating soothing circles along her thigh going still. "Aly isn't a pain slut. She wouldn't agree to sub for Conner."
"I got a call an hour ago that says otherwise. She entered the club with him and he took her to a private room. I told Anthony to contact me when they leave to make sure she made it out all right."
"What the fuck is she thinking?" Michael snapped, fury radiating from him. "Conner is a sadist. She knows that."
The anger in Trevor's expression receded, becoming a reluctant acceptance. "I don't know. I just felt I should tell you. Everyone is aware that you tried to do right by her, so you don't have to worry about that. It's just..." Trevor seemed to stare into a place far away, one they couldn't see. "I just wanted to tell you myself, before you heard it from someone else."
The air felt as though it thickened. The tension between the two men remained invisible but ever present. Lacey rested her fingers over Michael's and reclined against his chest, trying to extend comfort in the only manner she could. He flipped his hand over, grasped hers and placed their entwined fingers on her stomach. In that moment there was no sex taking place all around them. There were no Dominants, submissives or conflicts to resolve. There was only her and Michael, cuddling each other like any normal couple.
In that moment, she accepted what her mind refused to believe. The feeling that was overwhelming her was unfamiliar and new but she recognized it. Deep down, in the instinctive way all men and women grasped the emotion, she realized this was it. It was too soon to love Michael but the time frame no longer mattered.
Because she'd already fallen.
"When I've finished talking with Trevor we'll do a walk around the room," Michael whispered in a manner that indicated the words were intended for her alone. "Would you enjoy that?"
She blushed at the question, envisioning Michael doing just that.
"Answer me."
"Yes Sir."
"I love that color on you." He brought his free hand up and caressed her cheek.
A commotion from the back of the room gained Michael's and Trevor's attention. Brian rushed past the scenes taking place as he made his way to them. He stopped in front of Trevor and dropped to his knees, staring the other man in the eye.
"Anthony called. You need to get to Fantasia---now."
"What happened?"
The men stood at the same time, revealing Trevor was a couple inches taller.
"It's Aly."
"What about Aly?" Michael released Lacey's hand and leaned forward.
Brian glanced at Michael and quickly turned back to Trevor. "Conner used the cane. She didn't safe word."
"For fuck's sake!" Michael stood, lifting her easily and placed her on her feet. "What the hell is wrong with her?"
"We need to go." Brian ignored Michael's outburst, his gaze pinned on Trevor. "When the scene was over Aly went into the bathroom, locked the door and refused to let anyone inside."
"She won't talk to me." Trevor's livid gaze fixed on Michael, his implication clear.
"I can't be sure she'd talk to me either." Michael rubbed the back of his neck. "The last time we spoke we weren't on the best of terms."
A shrill ring came from Brian's pocket and he quickly removed a phone from his black leather pants. Opening it swiftly, he brought it to his ear. "What news do you have?" He closed his eyes and it was easy to sense his rage. After taking a long, deep breath he said, "We'll be there as soon as we can."
He closed the phone, placed it in his pants and sent a nervous glance to Trevor. "Shiloh managed to get into the bathroom. It's not good."
"Clear out the house. The party's over," Trevor snarled and strode past them without looking back.
"So you'll have the final proofs to us by the end of the week? We can't afford another delay. I'm already feeling the heat and I can't hold off the publisher much longer."
Lacey's agent's hidden warning set her teeth on edge. She was well aware that she was a week past deadline. The last twenty-four hours had made it virtually impossible to achieve anything that required something as draining as creativity.
"I'll have it in the mail no later than Friday."
"Is everything all right? You seem..."
Angry, frustrated, lonely, confused? "I'm fine. I've just had a lot going on."
"Listen, about Scott... He's not worth it."
Lacey would have laughed at the irony of crying over Scott if she wasn't so miserable over someone else. "Scott isn't an issue. It's over and done."
"Okay, well, call me if you need anything. I'll be in the office most of the week."
"Will do. Take care."
Lacey ended the call without waiting for a response and felt even worse at her short and callous treatment of someone who'd gotten her into the business. Helen didn't deserve it. It was just too damn hard to pretend that everything was fine when Michael had dropped her off at her home and had called only once to say he was sorry and that he'd make it up to her. She'd waited half the morning for another call, a visit---something. Instead she found herself coming in second place.
Again.
That persistent ache in her chest returned when she realized that a relationship with Michael---no matter how much she wanted it, no matter how much she wanted him---might not be possible. For all his talk, he had thus far proven himself to be a bag of hot air and empty promises. It hurt, being cast aside for a woman he claimed he didn't want. Even though Trevor and Brian had asked him to come, she felt betrayed, set aside.
Forgotten.
A knock at the door had her leaping from her couch. Only one person would be knocking on her door on a Saturday. She tried to count to ten, determined to keep her temper in check. Before she jumped to conclusions she was determined to listen to whatever excuse Michael planned to give her. Every suspect had the right to defend themselves before the fires of hell came rushing to greet them. She grasped the knob, opened the door and unexpectedly came face-to-face with a very unkempt Candice.
"Candice? What in the---"
Candice didn't give her the opportunity to finish, forcing Lacey aside and quickly stepping into the house. She shrugged off the large bags across each shoulder and tossed them onto the kitchen table before she hooked a left and started for the kitchen. Lacey closed the door and followed, watching in disbelief as her best friend made a beeline for the liquor cabinet.
"Candy!" Rushing into the kitchen, she stopped the door from opening fully, preventing her friend from gaining access to whiskey, rum or vodka. "What is going on?"
"Not now."
"Yes." Lacey pressed the palm of her hand against the cabinet, putting her weight into her shoulder. "Right now."
"Shit."
Candice spun around and left the kitchen as quickly as she'd entered it. She retrieved one of her bags and headed for the bathroom. Before she could get inside the hallway, Lacey jumped ahead of her and blocked her path.
"What's wrong?"
Candice stared at her chest, refusing to make eye contact. "I just need a few minutes to pull myself together. I'm going to start with a shower."
"You're not doing anything until you tell me what the hell is going on." Studying Candice's bowed head, she added, "For the record, you're really freaking me out."
"Please."
Candice's broken plea was one that turned Lacey's blood to ice, sending cold chills down her spine. She remembered hearing that same tone on a brisk autumn night and had sworn it was something she never wanted to hear again. She stepped aside without another word and watched Candice walk into the bathroom down the hall and close the door. Within seconds, the sounds of the shower shrilled through the house.
The phone rang and yanked her back to the present. She shook off the unwanted memories, walked to the coffee table and retrieved the phone. She recognized the number and almost let the call go to her answering machine. For hours, she'd waited. Now, when the shit was staining her walls, Michael had decided it was time to give her a call.
"Yes?" she answered in the same manner she felt, exasperated and off kilter.
"Lacey? Is that you?" Michael sounded like he'd been put through the wringer.
"Why don't you answer that question? You dialed the number." He didn't reply, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to knee him in the balls or kick herself in the ass. "Yes." She confirmed her identity despite her short fuse. "It's Lacey."
"What's wrong?" Concern overcame the fatigue in his voice. "Has something happened?"
"You could say that." After glancing down the hall, she walked into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.
"Are you going to tell me what?"
She could just picture the annoyed expression on his face. "It's not looking good for you at the moment."
"You're angry."
"How'd you guess?"
"You told me it was okay to go."
"I would have seemed like a raging bitch if I said anything else. Besides, I didn't think it would be so long until I heard from you."
He sighed into the phone. "I wanted to be alone when we talked, and believe it or not, I haven't been in a room or a vehicle by myself since I dropped you off."
She pulled down a filter and the coffee and told herself to count to ten. "So start talking."
"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"
"Why should I? This is the second time the same woman has come between us."
"It's not like that," he snapped.
Nice. Now he was angry too.
"Really?" She snagged the coffee pot, thrust it under the faucet and flipped the handle. "Then what is it like?"
"I called to let you know that I'm wrapping a few things up and then I'm coming over. I'll explain when I get there."
The shower shut off at the exact same moment she finished filling the coffee pot, and Lacey's decision was made. Michael had left her without a word, as if she would simply wait until he beckoned and come to heel like a good little puppy. While she didn't mind kink in the bedroom, becoming his doormat was another thing entirely. Since she wasn't sure what was wrong with Candice---a friend who had never let her down---she was going to take the time to find out.
Until then, the men could take care of themselves.
"Sorry," she said as she finished pouring the water into the top of the machine and placed the thin glass container in the proper location. "You'll have to visit some other time. I've already got plans."
"What do you mean you have plans?"
Oh yeah, he was good and pissed. Too bad she didn't give a shit.
"If you need a translation, I suggest you go ask Aly. I'm sure she can clarify."
Lacey hung up the phone without another word, waited until the line was disconnected and took it off the hook.
\*
"Son of a bitch!" Michael closed his cell and sagged in the lounge chair on Trevor's back deck.
Hours had bled, one into the next, becoming an incoherent mash-up of events that he couldn't piece together. From the moment he'd hit Fantasia he'd been forced to become a mediator, a referee and a voice of reason. Since Conner refused to leave Aly, Trevor had wanted to tear the asshole apart along with Brian. That meant he had to keep the peace.
It hadn't been easy.
"You should crash in one of the guest rooms and get some sleep." Shiloh's soft voice startled him, and he realized he had started to drift off again. "Doc gave Aly something, so she's out like a light. There isn't more you can do."
"I'd still like to know what the hell she was thinking." He rubbed his eyes, shaking off the tempting arms of sleep.
"She wasn't. That's the problem. She had so much pent-up emotional pain that she decided to transfer it to something physical she could control."
"Conner---"
"Had no idea, just like you had no idea that Aly was into pain when she needed emotional release."
Michael slumped in the chair. "I saw the scars on her thighs. When I asked about them she said they were from her stepfather. Another lie, I suppose."
"No, that part wasn't a lie. The scars just made it easier for her to hide what she did to herself when she couldn't cope. Cutting is more common than you think."
Michael glanced up when he saw Trevor walk past the glass doors. Brian wasn't with him, which meant the other man had remained behind with their new houseguest. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair was tangled. Once they'd gotten Aly out of the bathroom Trevor had taken total control of the situation. That meant Michael'd had to babysit Brian and Conner, which hadn't been enjoyable. The men had exchanged unpleasant barbs and taunts until Michael had forced them to opposite sides of the club. It was a right good thing Vaughn had arrived when he had. As the owner of Fantasia, he didn't take any shit. Once he'd assessed the situation, he'd called in the club's private doctor and moved things upstairs.
That was more than fourteen hours ago.
No wonder Lacey was pissed.
Unfortunately, her anger made his all the worse. He'd told her what he was doing and he hadn't done anything to tarnish the fragile trust developing between them. Still, she continued shutting him down, using something that had transpired without his control against him.
Again.
Determined to go to her despite her warning that she had plans, he was startled when he stumbled as he rose from the chair. Shiloh rushed forward to balance him.
"You need some sleep."
Shaking his head clear, he said, "I just need a strong cup of coffee. I'll be fine."
Shiloh's soft hands cradled his cheeks, forcing him to look down and into her face. "You're not going to do your lady friend any favors showing up like this. Go upstairs, get some sleep and drive over when you can think clearly."
Michael glanced at his reflection in the glass doors. He looked like death warmed over. His hair was messy and his dress shirt was speckled with brown bloodstains. His nose was also swollen, his nostrils were caked with flecks of red and the crack in his lip still smarted whenever he attempted to grimace. Glancing down, he flexed his fingers. The knuckles on his right hand were beginning to scab over. As much as he hated to use force, when Brian had lunged at Conner he'd had no choice but to knock some sense into the man with a hefty blow to his jaw. That had led to a nasty tussle, one that left each of them with swollen noses and a few scrapes and bruises.
"I need a shower."
Shiloh stepped back and wrapped an arm around his waist to assist him to the doors. "Sleep first, Romeo. You can worry about that pretty face of yours later."
"Sorry, no can do." He moved away from her as soon as he stepped inside and followed the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
Shiloh exhaled in exasperation but didn't argue as she rolled her eyes and took off in the direction of the living room. The very vanilla bartender of Fantasia didn't mince words or try to sway any of them when their minds were made up. It was the primary reason Vaughn kept her on at the club despite the way he felt about her. Shiloh was a woman Vaughn could only admire from afar as she didn't share his desires or sexual tendencies, but he suffered in silence to keep her around, to dream of what he could never have. Michael had once thought it was a romantic and rather stupid notion on Vaughn's part.
Oh the fucking irony.
"You should listen to her," Trevor said as Michael strolled into the kitchen. "You look like shit."
Michael accepted the coffee Trevor handed him and took a cautious sip. "That's why I plan to use your shower before I leave."
"You sure you're safe to drive?"
"I've pulled my share of forty-eight-hour shifts when we've been short a driver. I'll be fine."
"Why don't you let me call Lacey to come get you?"
Michael considered lying but decided against it. Trevor had an uncanny ability to tell when someone wasn't being honest with him. "She's pissed at me."
Trevor cocked a brow. "What have you done now?"
"I've ditched her twice for another woman. She's not taking that well."
"Jealous much?"
The haughty tone was unusual for Trevor but it pissed Michael off just the same. "Do you know when Conner will be dropping by?"
Trevor's smirk vanished. "I told him he could stop by later this evening after Aly has had an opportunity to rest."
"It's not entirely his fault, you know. He's never been irresponsible. He would have asked about hard limits and set boundaries."
"None of that matters. Not anymore." Trevor turned to the counter to retrieve a fresh mug. "Aly's here now, and this is where she's going to stay."
"That might be easier said than done."
"No, it isn't." Trevor abandoned his own caffeine fix and looked Michael in the eye. "If she doesn't stay she'll lose access to the club. I've already spoken with Vaughn."
Michael placed his mug on the center island. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? You'll take away the only thing she has to turn to."
"Which is why she'll accept my offer to stay here, recover and give Brian and me the opportunity to show her that she belongs with us."
"That's your plan?"
"Can you think of a better one?"
After contemplating things in the eerie quiet of the kitchen, Michael shook his head. Aly was a live wire, unbalanced and a danger to herself. With Trevor and Brian she would have the stability and security she so obviously needed. Swiping the mug off the table one last time, he drained the last of his coffee, walked to the counter and placed the cup in the sink.
"You're sure you're okay to drive?" Trevor didn't sound convinced.
"As soon as I get a shower I'll be good for another hour or so."
Michael exited the kitchen without saying another word, ready to get cleaned up and on his way to see what he anticipated would be a scorned woman. It was a shame too, because he was equally pissed. Lacey's reaction had confirmed what he'd suspected, even though he'd managed to delude himself into believing he had to be wrong. She still hadn't given him what he needed most. The one thing he would demand if they were going to have a chance at any future together.
How he loved and hated the elusive phantom known as faith.
In a way, it was better that he learned the truth now, before he was too invested, while his heart---he hoped---would still be able to mend.
As he climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom, he wondered how in the hell things had gone from pristine crystal to a steaming pile of shit.
Lacey had just placed all the trimmings for a salad on the table when Candice emerged from the bathroom dressed in baggy flannel pants and a camisole. Her hair was loose and her face was free of makeup but otherwise she appeared fine. Although she wasn't as put together as Lacey was used to, she seemed far more composed and in control, which was a step in the right direction.
"Feel better?"
"Loads."
They sat at the same time and started piling their plates with lettuce, tomatoes, cheese and dressing. As they ate in silence, Lacey combed her brain for a way to pry for answers without pushing her friend too far. Just when she cleared her throat to start, Candice beat her to it.
"Do you remember when we were in college and I started taking a class across town?"
"The one for investigative reporting?" When Candice nodded, Lacey answered, "I remember. You were gone every weekend for six months. I was afraid you'd run off to join a reporter cult or something."
"Or something."
Lacey placed her fork on the table and studied the woman, who was obviously at the end of her rope. Candice was picking at her salad, shifting the lettuce from side to side, shaking her head.
"Talk to me."
Candice took a deep breath and placed her own utensil on the plate. "I lied to you."
She didn't say anything, giving her friend time to come clean on her own. Candice reached for her glass of sweet tea, took a long swallow and sat it on the table before she started again.
"A couple of months after all that shit happened with Jason, I was approached by a student in the library. She didn't say much. She just walked up to my table, placed a card in front of me and said that she'd heard about what happened. I was still resentful, so of course I told her to mind her own fucking business. She didn't seem fazed. Instead she remained completely calm and told me if I wanted to make sure I was never a victim again, I would call the number she'd given me. Then she walked away."
"What was on the card?"
Candice shrugged. "A phone number. I mulled over it for about a week before I caved in and called. I was too curious not to. The person who answered was also vague and told me to take down an address. Before she ended the call she invited me to visit the address and warned me it was a one-time deal."
"Did you go?"
"Yes."
"Let me make sure I understand you correctly. You went to an unknown address, to meet people you didn't know, and you had no idea what they wanted."
Candice nodded and took another sip of her tea. "Looking back, it was a stupid thing to do. But I'm glad I did it, because it allowed me to take back my life."
"I don't understand," Lacey said slowly.
"When I arrived, I discovered the address was nothing more than an abandoned warehouse. Parked right in front was a limousine, and standing beside the rear door was the girl from the library. She told me the person I wanted to talk to was inside the car so I walked over, slid inside and came face-to-face with a woman. She was in her thirties, well-dressed, and would have been stunning if it hadn't been for the scar from her temple to her lip. She told me she knew what occurred on campus and offered me an opportunity to reclaim what I'd lost. When I told her that was impossible she assured me that not only was it possible, but if I was willing to listen and observe I could learn something that could change my life."
"What did you do?"
"I agreed."
"You agreed?"
Candice sighed and placed her glass on the table. "You have to understand something. After everything that happened I was a total wreck. There was no adequate way to describe what I was feeling. I couldn't talk to anyone about it, not entirely." She looked up and met Lacey's confused stare. "Not even you."
The honesty hurt, preventing Lacey from responding. Ever since she and Candice had met, at the first student assembly, they'd shared everything with each other.
Or so she'd thought.
"It's not about you, if that's what you're thinking. It's about something you couldn't understand, and it's something I wouldn't want you to understand."
She managed to keep her voice neutral. "Then try explaining it to me."
"I was introduced to other women who had been used, hurt or taken advantage of by men. They shared their stories, asked about mine and allowed me to realize that I never had to be placed in that position again."
"So it was a support group?"
Candice seemed extremely nervous and uncomfortable. "Not exactly."
"Then what was it?"
Candice looked Lacey in the eye again, as if steeling herself not to look away when she answered. "They were all Dommes. Female dominants."
"Say what?"
"You heard me."
Yes, she had, but her mind didn't want to accept it. Female dominants. Dommes.
Holy shit.
She gazed from side to side, unable to come up with anything to say. Her best friend, a woman she had known for years, was involved with Dommes.
Unbelievable.
Reading her as she was so prone to, Candice said, "Say something."
"I'm thinking."
"Think harder."
Lacey laughed. "I'm drawing a blank."
"That's obvious."
"So you're a Domme?"
"Does that surprise you?"
Hell yes, it surprised her. But when Lacey really thought about it, the revelation made sense. Candice was always in control---always. With her job, she was the boss. She decided what stories she would or wouldn't take, and she didn't like to be told what to do.
"It's unexpected but not shocking." Lacey recalled how knowledgeable Candice was when it came to Michael's sexual activities. "I suppose I should have seen it before now."
"I didn't want you to." Candice gave a weak smile when she saw Lacey's hurt expression. "What I do behind closed doors isn't anyone's business, no offense."
"You could have trusted me. I would have understood."
"Is that so? Because I'm not all that sure. You understand now because you're in a relationship with a Dom. Before Mike, I don't know if you would have approached it in the same way."
She wanted to argue but didn't dare. Candice could be right or wrong. Lacey had always considered herself an open-minded person but then again, she'd also run from Michael like he was an incarnation of the devil the minute she learned about his sexual preferences. It had taken time for her to grasp the implications of D/s play, both in and out of the bedroom, and it was something she was still attempting to fully comprehend.
"So..." Lacey couldn't believe she was about to have this kind of conversation with Candice. Talk about growing up and expanding your horizons. Once they'd gushed over John Hughes films. It figured their innocent lusts would blossom to Doms, Dommes and all things fetish. "Do you go to clubs?"
"Look at you, blushing and excited," Candice snickered. "No wonder Mike was a goner." She reached for her glass. "I go to a club in Atlanta when the mood strikes. That's why I needed an invitation to Fantasia. I never mix my personal life with pleasure, so it's necessary to travel to a location where no one knows me or asks questions. Besides, most of the time I'm too busy working to find time to play."
"That's all it is for you? Work and play?"
"I don't want a serious relationship, Lace." Candice wasn't smiling anymore. "After college I made the decision to keep all of my romantic involvements strictly sexual. I have a job I enjoy, a home I'm proud of and I don't feel the need to add anything else to it."
"Doesn't that get, you know...lonely?"
"I'm sure it might be to some people. It works just fine for me."
"So the cop who came to your apartment," Lacey noticed now it was Candice who appeared uncomfortable, "was he strictly a sexual partner? Because he didn't look like he was into casual."
"He was something that never should have happened."
"Why not?"
Candice planted her glass on the table, causing tea to slosh over the top. "I was on the job. I never should have let anyone or anything distract me. He just happened to rescue me from a needy sub who was drawing unwanted attention, and I took advantage of the situation. In retrospect, it was sloppy and foolish on my part."
"What are you going to do?"
"About?"
"Tall, dark and handsome officer."
"He knows I'm not interested."
"You told him?"
"I did." Candice rose from the table and collected her plate. "He wasn't happy about it but he'll adjust."
It was probably stupid to ask but it was obvious Candy wasn't telling her everything. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Will you adjust?"
Candice turned. The sadness in her eyes was almost as heartbreaking as her resolve. "I adjusted a long time ago, Lace. This is who I am."
Lacey remained seated as her friend walked into the kitchen. It had been years since she'd seen Candy express any interest in a man, much less lose her cool over one, and Candice Bradshaw was definitely not her usual self when it came to Brady Stone.
No matter how much she might deny it.
Lacey had opened her door to walk Candice outside when she saw the strange car in her driveway. Michael was passed out behind the wheel, his head resting against the seat.
"It seems like I'm leaving just in time." Candice chuckled and gave her a hug.
Hugging back, she muttered, "He knows he's in the doghouse."
"Don't be too hard on him." Candice pulled away and looked at the car. "It looks like he's had a rough night."
Jealousy reared its ugly head again. She could only imagine how rough his night with Aly had been. "I'm sure he has."
As Candice walked to her car, Lacey strode over to Michael. When she got closer, and got a decent look at his face, her insecurities and anger faded. It looked like he'd gotten the shit beaten out of him. His nose was swollen and bruised and his lower lip was cracked right down the middle.
"Michael?" She knocked softly on the window and he opened his eyes.
He blinked several times and gazed at her. The moment recognition struck he opened the door. He seemed primed to go another round, gazing in the direction of the unknown vehicle in the driveway until he saw her visitor was Candice. The tension around his eyes softened. He waved at Candice, gazed away from her friend and gave her his undivided attention.
She reached out before she could stop herself and touched his lip. "What happened?"
"I had to break up a fight and managed to get caught in the middle of it."
She stepped back as he climbed from the car. "You didn't say anything about fighting. I thought you were going to the club."
"Brian and Conner had issues to sort through."
"So they used you as a punching bag?"
His chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. "Not exactly."
"Are you okay?"
"I am now."
She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his chest. He'd recently showered. She could detect the lingering fragrance of Dial soap. Gazing up, she noticed the bristle forming along his jaw. The dark shadow added to the bruises and cuts on his face, giving him the appearance of a street brawler.
"So how's Aly?" She wanted to cringe at the cattiness in her voice.
"You'd have to ask Brian and Trevor. I was there for moral support, not for Aly."
"That's not how it seemed last night."
Michael's face hardened. "I'm not going to apologize for helping my friends." He glanced at Candice's car as it vanished from the driveway. "Would you say no to yours?"
Her airway became tight. Talk about feeling lower than the low.
She hadn't really thought about it like that.
"No, I wouldn't." She rested her hands on his arms. "It's just been a rough night."
"I second that." He kissed her lightly, brushing his lips over hers. "I should tan your little ass for hanging up on me earlier."
"Consider it payback for leaving me high and dry."
"Payback, huh?" He pulled away, and the heat in his eyes made her instantly wet.
"You had it coming." Was that her voice? Jesus, she sounded like a cigarette-smoking phone sex operator.
"That's where you're wrong. I haven't come all night." He cupped her face and ran his thumb along her cheek. "Are you ready to learn how I punish a naughty sub who hangs up on her concerned Dom?"
"Yes." She looked down, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. He wouldn't allow it, lifting her chin with his fingers.
"Yes what?"
"Yes Sir." Her body was already trembling in anticipation. Being angry flew out the window. In the presence of this man, she couldn't think about anything else.
"Good, because I've had hours to think of the things I'm going to do to you. You weren't the only one who was robbed last night. So was I."
He lowered his arms and started walking to her home, leaving her to follow behind him. Her heart hammered inside her chest, the pulsing drum of blood pounding in her ears. She had no idea how long he'd been waiting outside but if what he said was true, she could only imagine what to expect.
He opened her door, waited until she came inside, closed it and turned the lock.
"Strip."
The sweet man with the battered face was gone, replaced by pure Dom. She started removing her clothes and he addressed her in the same tone. "I'm going to have you get on your knees and suck my cock. Would you prefer a condom? Or do you trust me when I tell you I'm clean?"
Holy Mother.
Her shaking fingers made it difficult to undo her bra. "I trust you, Sir."
"That makes me a happy man, darlin'." He unzipped his fly and pulled his fully erect length free. "I didn't want latex to prevent me from feeling every inch of your sweet little mouth when I fuck it. Come here."
She walked to him on wobbly legs and went to her knees when he put his hands on her shoulders and applied pressure, bringing her face to his cock. There was no way in hell she could take the entire length into her mouth. He was too long and wide. She reached out to grasp him at the base when he stopped her.
"No hands, just your mouth."
Unsure of how to start, she ran her tongue along the mushroom-shaped tip and tasted him for the first time. He was a mixture of musk and soap, the semen at the tip slightly salty and bitter. Opening her mouth, she took the head of his cock inside. He was so wide he stretched her lips.
"Rub your tongue on the underside." She did and he groaned. "That's right. Just like that. Now suck me. Hollow your cheeks and take me as far as you can."
She only made it a quarter of the way down his length before her gag reflex kicked in. She pulled away before she choked, afraid of embarrassing herself. The next pass was easier but she wasn't able to do much more than suck and rub her tongue along the head.
"Relax your throat and breathe through your nose."
Taking a deep breath, she tried to do as he instructed. Each nudge of his cock against the back of her mouth had her worried she'd gag. Fortunately, as he eased into a rhythm, she discovered he was right. While she couldn't take all of him, she was able to go a lot farther down his shaft than before.
"Look at me." She lifted her gaze and he was staring down at her. "You have such a sweet mouth." He wrapped his hands in her hair and warned, "I'm about to fuck those luscious lips of yours. Keep your throat relaxed and don't forget to breathe. I'll take care of the rest."
Then he was moving, going deeper and deeper. Her saliva combined with his pre-come-coated his cock, allowing him to glide in and out of her mouth smoothly. She focused on inhaling and exhaling through her nose as she sucked, forcing the muscles in her throat to relax.
"That's it." He continued rocking his hips. "Just." He thrust deeper into her mouth. "Like." He slammed home another time. "That."
She moaned, so wet she could feel the moisture seeping from her cleft. He hissed and placed his fingers in her hair, forming a fist. The tugs against her scalp were painful but they turned her on. Michael might think he was in charge, but with his cock in her mouth she felt in control.
"This excites you, doesn't it?" She moaned again and was rewarded with another, harder yank on her hair. "I bet if I put my hand between your legs my fingers would come away soaking wet."
Bobbing her head, she continued hollowing her cheeks, sucking until her jaws started to ache. She'd only given a couple of blowjobs in her life, and they had never gotten her this hot. She wondered what it would be like when Michael came. Would he pull out? Fist his cock and come on her face or breasts? Or would he come in her mouth and make her swallow all of him down?
She found out the answer when he growled, "Get ready, baby, I'm coming."
He pistoned his hips, moving faster, pumping into her mouth until it was impossible to catch her breath. The fingers in her hair went still as a hot splash hit the back of her throat. She swallowed, trying to breathe as he pulsed in her mouth. His semen was hot and thick, making her struggle to swallow while he continued thrusting. When he finished he stared down at her, his ragged pants and her soft exhalation the only sounds in the house.
She didn't have time to take pride in the dazed look on his face. With a swift motion, he snagged her arms and yanked her to her feet. "Where's the bedroom?"
She guided him down the hallway to her private escape from the world. It was modestly decorated in white, the bedding and furniture a perfect match. If he was impressed, or even noticed, he didn't give any indication. He simply walked her to the bed and motioned for her to climb up.
"Where do you keep your vibrator?"
Damn. Was there anything he didn't know?
"In the bedside table."
He turned from her, rummaged around the drawer and produced it. "Spread your legs."
She didn't hesitate, parting her thighs. He came to her, ran the dildo up and down her slit and turned it on low. Her muscles were already going tight in anticipation. The device slid into her pussy with ease, and he didn't stop until it was buried deep. She bit her lip, trying not to moan or move. She was already so close. The vibrator felt wonderful but it didn't hit her G-spot. All she needed was a little stimulation to her clit to send her skyrocketing.
Ready to get hot and heavy, she frowned when Michael waved his hand, motioned for her to move over and climbed onto the bed. She was practically panting when he turned her on her side and spooned her from behind. He yawned into her hair and pulled her back against him.
"Michael?"
"How are you supposed to address me?"
"S-sir." She was so edgy she could hardly keep still. When she tried to move, his arm kept her firmly in place.
"I suggest you lie down and try to relax. Right now you just have to last out my nap. Any more questions and I'll keep the vibrator in your pussy on full blast for the rest of the day. Next time you'll think twice before you hang up on me."
It couldn't be.
This was how he was going to punish her?
Her nipples were harder than rocks, her pussy was on fire and she had never wanted to come so badly. She fumed in silence, pissed-off and horny. He'd ramped up her libido only to keep it at a full idle. By the time she came up with something witty to say---something that included "sir" in the proper context---it was too late.
Michael's deep and even breaths indicated he had already fallen asleep.
\*
Michael woke with a tense woman in his arms. He glanced past her head to the clock. She'd endured two hours of being stimulated without relief. He considered discussing what he'd come to her home to say---forgoing any sexual play---but couldn't help himself. That was the problem with Lacey---his baser urges caused him to think with the wrong head when he was around her.
Stretching, he kept his arm around her waist. "I feel so much better. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night." He pressed his face into her nape. "How about you, angel?"
She didn't respond immediately, and he knew she had to be angry and wound up as hell. It was a good thing he knew how to remedy that.
"What do you think?" He was about to caution her about her attitude when she grumbled, "Sir."
"I think you'd better change your tone or I won't show you how I like to end my punishments." Bringing his hand to her cleft, he found she was as wet and sensitive as he'd expected she'd be. She pressed into his hand and he warned, "Don't you dare move. You'll come when I say, not before."
He let her go and flipped her onto her back. Her green eyes were dark and her lips were parted. She trembled as he skimmed his finger between her breasts, ventured down and ran his fingers along the outline of her navel. The hand at the apex of her thighs was covered in hot feminine wetness.
"I'm about to go down on you, angel. I'm going to bury my face between your legs and show you what it's like to be devoured." She gasped and closed her eyes. "You'll come at my command. Do you understand?"
"Yes Sir."
"That's my good girl."
Pressing kisses along the way, he moved down her body. She squirmed when he took his hand from her pussy, felt for the bottom of the vibrator and turned it up a couple levels.
"Stay still," he reminded her. "You'll take what I have to give you, no matter what it is."
Her whimpers were as soft as the drenched skin he eagerly caressed with his lips. He wanted to dive right in with rough licks and nips against her labia. Instead he rubbed his mouth against her hot and silken flesh, breathing her in. Her pussy lips were swollen and her clit was visible. She was so aroused it would be impossible for her to keep from coming once he got started, which was what he wanted. Punishments were so much sweeter when they led to something like this, and he couldn't wait to punish the sweet woman resting so trustingly before him.
She stiffened slightly when he parted her ass cheeks, revealing the small pink pucker between, and rubbed his finger along the rosette. "Have you ever done any anal play?"
"No Sir."
"Good. That means this ass is all mine." He peered into her cloudy eyes and grinned. "It's too bad I didn't bring any toys with me. I can't wait to start breaking you in so you'll be ready to take me here."
Lowering his gaze, he continued rubbing his finger against her anus and blew against her clit. She hissed and fisted her fingers into the sheets. He brought his index finger to his mouth, got it good and wet and began teasing the small passage. Then he returned to her cunt. One lap had her thighs quivering, the second had her arching her hips. He continued tormenting her, staying away from the nub at the top of her sex as he brushed his finger against her ass and slowly pressed past the first ring of muscle.
When she tensed, he murmured, "Easy, angel. Relax. Let me in."
She took a deep breath and he eased his finger inside her. He could feel the pulses of the vibrator, making her all the tighter. He knew exactly what plug he'd use first to build Lacey's confidence. He'd start out small and move up in size until she was ready to accept his cock. He couldn't wait to take her as no man had. The possessive part of him was elated that he would be the only lover to show her the pleasures of anal sex.
"How does that feel?" He corkscrewed his finger and gently moved it in and out.
After a pause, she groaned, "Different."
"You'll love it when I fuck you here. I'll put a dildo in your pussy and take you nice and slow. You'll come harder than you ever have in your life."
"I'm close right now." There was a twinge of annoyance in her tone.
"I know. But I haven't told you to come, have I?"
Her sphincter muscles clenched his finger. Close was an understatement. His little submissive wanted to come so badly she wouldn't be able to help herself if he touched her in the right way, even if he didn't give her permission to do so.
She gasped as he licked a line from the finger in her ass to the top of her cunt, stopping shy of her clit. He brought his tongue to the folds just below and flicked the tip against the soft tissue. The tremor that swept through her body told him all he needed to know. She'd come, he'd punish her for it, and then he'd tell her about his plans for the evening.
He sucked the swollen bead at the top of her pussy into his mouth and tapped his tongue against the bundle of nerves. She screamed, wrapped her hands into his hair and writhed beneath him. The pulses against his finger told him she'd found release, an orgasm that was so intense it lasted for several seconds. He didn't release her clit until she was sighing and the muscles against his finger relaxed.
"Stay here. Don't move."
He removed his hand, slid from the bed and walked to the adjoining bathroom. It was neat and tidy, done in the same white motif as the bedroom. Simple, refined, elegant---just like the woman waiting for him in the bedroom.
Talk to her, he told himself. Tell her why she can't let her insecurities come between you.
His still-hard cock pulsed in his jeans and he felt like a total bastard. He planned to talk to Lacey after he punished her properly for coming without permission, but he couldn't erase the memory of her orgasm from his mind, the way she'd looked as she surrendered to him and let herself go. If this was it, if she turned him away and they parted ways, would it be so wrong to love her one last time? Would he regret not caving in to the temptation she presented before he let her go? Could he honestly tan her ass as he'd promised without doing anything more?
Fuck no, he couldn't. He might walk away after today, pretending his emotions were locked in an impenetrable box, but he'd leave an important piece of himself behind. Even if she never knew it, Lacey would continue to hold his heart in her hands.
To hell with it.
He quickly washed his hands, stripped off his pants and removed a condom from his back pocket. After he'd sheathed himself and threw the foil into the trash, he strode into the bedroom.
"Roll onto your stomach. I want you on your hands and knees."
She flipped languidly onto her belly and did as he ordered. After he walked to the bed and climbed onto the mattress, he got in position behind her. Her head was bowed and he could tell she was totally relaxed.
It was time to change that.
He brought his hand back, put some force behind his swing and landed a heavy swat to her ass. A pained yelp, a muffled curse and she was once again at full attention. He speared his cock into her cunt, gliding into her from tip to base. Rolling his hips, he brought his arm up again. This time the blow was light but firm.
"You came without permission. That means you're due for another punishment."
He alternated smacks against her ass with thrusts of his cock, leaving red imprints on each of her cheeks. Her cunt was hot and sleek around him, cradling his length. He moved in and out, steady and hard.
"Michael, please..." She started pressing back to meet his thrusts, moaning despite the swats.
"I don't think so, baby. This time it's all for me."
He bent over her body, nuzzled her nape and bit her shoulder, marking her with his teeth. Grasping her waist in his hands, he began hammering into her, using enough force that she was sent forward with each stroke. His sac tightened, a tingle started at the base of his spine and he slid into her one last time, holding himself still as he came.
Their combined breathing was the only sound in the room as he came down from the high of orgasm. He kissed the area he'd bitten and removed his slowly softening cock from the haven that continued to hug him.
"I'll be right back."
She dropped onto the mattress as he moved from the bed, tied off the condom and disposed of it in the bathroom. He turned on the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
It was time to take the next step. Nothing he'd done had occurred according to plan. Every single time he started to take his relationship with Lacey to the next level, shit got in the way. Then, with her surly behavior this morning, he'd known it was time to have an important discussion with the woman he wanted so much he couldn't keep his head on straight.
No more dramatics. No more games. No more uncertainty.
Repeating the mantra and telling himself this had to be done, he resigned himself to what he was about to do and walked back into the bedroom.
Lacey had never felt so wonderful, sated or used in her life.
And she loved it.
A part of her was stunned at how good it felt to give Michael control, to allow him to take charge of her completely. She had never allowed anyone---including her parents---that much power over her. With him, it felt right. As if a missing puzzle piece had suddenly been found, everything connected and the mysteries of the world were revealed. There was no right or wrong. No hesitation or doubt.
So when he strode from the bathroom and started pulling on his pants, she sat up and frowned. Things had been going so well---perfectly, in fact---so why was he acting as though he was ready to leave?
"Michael?"
He zipped his pants, walked over to the bed and sat beside her. Her heart started pounding painfully inside her chest. There was a look in his eyes that she couldn't place, one she'd not seen from him before. She couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.
He reached out and cupped her chin in his palm. "I'm going to be totally honest with you. I want you. More than any woman I have ever known." He brushed his thumb along her lower lip, smiling thinly. "But I'm impatient and selfish. Instead of giving us time and taking this slowly, I want to take you home, tie you to my bed and keep you there. You get under my skin in a way I can't describe, and I know I won't be happy until I know this is exactly what you want."
"I don't understand." After what they'd just shared, she couldn't comprehend why he had any questions about her feelings.
"I want more than a casual relationship with you. I want it all." He sighed and dropped his hand. "I want to share my life with you. I've never told anyone that before. I've heard of men who've met a woman, knew she was the one and that was that. I thought it was bullshit." He looked at her, blue eyes conflicted. "Now I know it's not."
"I thought I made myself clear," she said slowly, cautiously. "After the first night we spent together, and then the restaurant and the party, not to mention today..." She ached to touch him but didn't. He wanted something but she wasn't sure what it was. "You have to know I feel the same way."
"I know how you feel about sex. As for the rest, it's open for debate."
"Are you serious?" She couldn't believe she was hearing this from Michael. "You're going to lecture me about sex?"
"Believe it or not, this has nothing to do with sex."
"Care to explain?"
"I just did. I don't know if you feel the same way for me that I do for you."
"I told you I do."
"Actions speak louder than words."
Oh this kept getting better and better. "Excuse me?"
"No, not this time, darlin'."
She started to slide from the bed and he spoke quietly, his voice an ominous warning. "Keep your ass right where it is. I'm not finished."
"Then start making sense. Everything you've said so far is Greek to me."
"I'm going to ask you to do something, something that will require your absolute trust. It will make or break things between us." She arched a brow and he said, "I've alluded to it before. You've just refused to listen. Your responses tell me you're a submissive but there has to be more to make a relationship work---a solid commitment. If we're going to do this, it has to be completely. Halfway doesn't work. Halfway only means we'll both end up hurt."
Halfway? The morning had been nothing more than halfway to him?
Anger made her voice tremble. "I'm not a mind reader. If you want something more than what I've given you, you're going to have to tell me what it is."
"I told you. I want it all." He stood and started pacing. "I want to take you to the club. I want to show you exactly what I'll expect of you. I want to know that you'll trust me no matter what I do."
"So this is about the club?" She knew she sounded resentful, like a bitchy woman who'd been scorned, but it was impossible to hold back. "You're unsure about being with me because of your public taste for kink?"
He stopped, and his furious stare was enough to shut her up. "I'm worried about your public taste for kink. Not mine. The people you were so angry with this morning are my friends. They are the people I associate with on my own time. I've known most of them for years, and I'm not willing to sever our ties because I'm with a woman who can't handle what my life is like because of insecurity."
The words hurt, slamming into her like a direct bull's-eye shot.
"That's not fair."
She questioned herself even as she said it. He hadn't done anything remotely questionable since they'd entered into a sexual relationship. Yes he'd been called away by work or friends but he'd never lied to her or blown her off. She'd been angry when he'd left her behind because he could cheat on her, not because he had.
If that wasn't insecurity, what was?
Michael's harsh grin made her wish she could take her words back. "Isn't it?"
"You left me for another woman."
"No, I left you to help out friends who needed me."
"Oh excuse me." She flashed him a livid stare, feeling the threads of her temper stretch and snap. "Friends who were going to help the woman you left me for."
"And you didn't trust me," he yelled, his beautiful blue eyes narrowed, his face a mask of anger. The sound was so loud, so unexpected, that she jumped. He pressed his lips together and grimaced, taking deep breaths as he balled his hands into fists.
"You didn't trust me," he repeated, lowering his voice, "despite knowing the circumstances. I've told you that trust is the most important thing in any relationship but you didn't give me that. You automatically assumed I'd gone with Brian and Trevor because of Aly, not because they're close friends who needed my help." She opened her mouth to speak but he held up a hand. "Don't interrupt. Let me finish."
She bit her tongue and he continued. "I tried to tell you about my night but you didn't want to hear it. You'd already made up your mind about what happened. I came here to talk this morning. I swear I didn't intend to so much as touch you until we had a chance to discuss what I had to say. But I couldn't help myself. When I saw you the last thing I wanted to do was talk. That's the problem. You test my control. I forget what's important. If I keep allowing that to happen, we will both regret it. It's my responsibility to make sure we are on the same page. I have to know I can do whatever I need to do and you'll trust me regardless. This goes beyond kink. It's as essential to a relationship as breathing. Either you have total faith in the person you're with, or you don't. It's that simple."
He rubbed his hand against his neck and sighed. "The one thing I've asked for is the one thing you haven't given me. I won't settle for anything less. You shouldn't settle for anything less."
"So if I ever had to unexpectedly to help out a former flame, you'd be fine with that?"
He didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"You wouldn't even question it? As possessive as you are?"
"I'm not you, Lacey." The way he said it told her it was as painful for him to say aloud as it was for her to hear. "And I'm not Scott. If you told me you needed to help a friend I wouldn't care if the person were a man or a woman. I trust you to be faithful. You've never given me a reason not to."
She wanted to be angry. She wanted to yell and scream and tell him that he was wrong.
But she couldn't.
Just thinking of him with another woman had her so jealous she immediately jumped to conclusions. Michael was right, he was not Scott. From the start he'd been open and honest. All he wanted was her trust. He'd told her he was a monogamous man. He'd been nothing but truthful when it came to Aly. While she felt justified in her reaction, his arrival at her doorstep, beaten and bruised, told her she'd been way off the mark.
"This is about more than Aly, isn't it?"
"Yes." He met her gaze without blinking.
"You want me to prove something to you."
"I do."
She took a deep breath for courage and went for broke. "Tell me."
It was apparent he'd already decided how she could prove she trusted him. Perhaps that had been his intention all along. God help her, she should have spoken to him instead of losing her composure when he'd showed up. Honestly, she was no better when it came to control. Everything about him excited her, called to her and lured her in. Unfortunately it also turned her into a bitch she hardly recognized.
"I want you to prepare yourself for me tonight. Take a long bath, pamper that beautiful body of yours and put on lingerie you're fully comfortable being seen in. The only things you should wear aside from that are the necklace I gave you and a sexy pair of heels. When I come to get you, we'll see if this is what you truly want. There won't be any questions or answers. You'll do what I say, when I say it."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Is this a test?" She stared across the bedroom, feeling the distance was far greater than the few feet that separated them.
"You can call it that." He shrugged. "I like to think of it as a possible beginning for both of us. After tonight, there will be no question if you do or don't trust me, or if you're ready to enter into a committed relationship."
She wanted to ask more questions but he didn't allow her to. Instead he walked out her bedroom door, presenting her with his departing back. She listened in silence as his footsteps traveled down her hallway and creaked across her living room.
Then she heard her front door open and close.
Don't turn back. You did what you had to do. The ball's in her court now.
Michael made it to the car he'd borrowed, opened the door and climbed inside. Once his back hit the cushioned seat, he allowed himself to relax for the first time since he'd walked out of Lacey's door. He'd known it wouldn't be an easy conversation. He just hadn't anticipated how angry he'd become, or how close he'd come to losing his temper.
He grabbed his cell from the passenger seat before he cranked the engine and turned the vehicle around. It was sheer torture not to take a glimpse in the rearview and see if Lacey was watching him. One part of him wanted to see if she'd make the effort. Another part of him worried she'd already decided to wipe her hands clean.
Shaking off his doubts, he called Fantasia's back line. If Vaughn wasn't overseeing the daily clean-up by now, he'd be in his office. The phone rang twice before he heard his friend's voice.
"Who am I speaking to and what do you want?"
"I need a favor."
"First Brady, then Brian and Trevor, and now you. This seems to be a recurring theme."
"Do you remember the morning I got up at three a.m. to haul Shiloh out of a ditch? If I recall correctly, you said you owed me. I'm collecting."
"That was over a year ago. Isn't there a statute of limitation for favors?"
"Sure," he replied. "Since we're cleaning the slate I can finally tell Shiloh who wanted to pick her up that night. And when I say pick her up, I don't mean give her a lift."
"What's the favor?"
"I want the exhibitionist's room tonight."
"Really?" Vaughn chuckled. "That's not your usual cuppa."
"I didn't ask for your opinion. I asked for the room."
"I'll reserve it for you."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
He'd started to hang up when Vaughn stopped him. "Was Shiloh at Trevor's when you left?"
"Yes, she said she was staying until Aly was set. Why do you ask?"
"Someone called here looking for her. When I tried her cell she didn't answer."
"Did you call the house?"
"No." Vaughn sounded annoyed. "I figured they had enough problems without me adding to them."
"I left a few hours ago. If she's not there, she probably went home. She didn't get any sleep last night."
"She didn't say anything about seeing someone, did she?"
The reason behind the owner of Fantasia's bad mood was now glaringly apparent. It appeared everyone was having issues with women---including Vaughn.
"Not to me."
Vaughn grumbled something before he said, "I'll try her later. The room is reserved. I've booked it for the entire night. Anything else you need while your wish is my command?"
"Just luck," he said, ended the call, and started the long, lonely drive home.
Michael arrived at her doorstep at eight sharp. Lacey had done exactly as he asked. She was in the red corset and garter set she'd purchased when she made the trip into town. The black stockings she'd donned contrasted nicely with the blood-red satin and lace, although Michael hadn't stipulated she could wear those. She'd finally decided stockings were underwear, especially when they were paired with four-inch red high heels.
Deciding how to do her hair and makeup took hours. In the end she went for simple and refined. She left her hair long and straight, allowing the strands to flow down her back. She decided against fake lashes, obnoxious blush or darkly kohled lids, choosing instead to bring attention to her green eyes with brown shadow, liquid liner and good old-fashioned mascara.
The cold wind caused her nipples to pebble through the lace as she opened the door. She quickly stepped aside and Michael walked in.
Sweet Mother of God.
He had on leather pants, a pressed white dress shirt, a black trench coat and a pair of boots that showed no signs of wear. With his shoulder-length hair and slightly battered face, he looked like a damn pirate straight out of a romance novel, only better.
He didn't say a word as he wrapped his arm under her elbow and escorted her to the bathroom. It was almost surreal, remaining silent when there was so much she wanted to say. He guided her inside, flicked on the light and looked at her through the mirror.
"Tonight you'll address me as Master. You won't speak unless spoken to or asked a question, and you'll be wearing this." He pulled a blindfold from his pocket. "At any time, if you realize this isn't what you want, you can remove this," he shook the black object in his hand, "or say red. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master." She was as aroused as she was terrified. Tonight she'd literally be going in blind.
"Before we can go any further, you'll need to sign this." He produced a folded document from his coat along with a pen. "You can't enter the club without knowing and consenting to the rules."
As she accepted the papers with trembling hands, she read over the legalities of entering Fantasia. There were so many things she had considered, but some of the items gave her a small amount of comfort. Everything was safe, sane and consensual. No one was allowed to do anything without the express consent of the person in their care. Rules were laid out in black and white. The penalties for breaking them were harsh.
Michael stood just behind her the entire time, remaining silent, allowing her to make the decision on her own. After reading over everything, she held out her hand for the pen. The signature she'd normally create with a flourish was uneven and sloppy when she finally mustered up the courage to sign and date the last page.
"Put your hands on the counter and close your eyes."
She did as he asked and he put the blindfold on, taking his time as he adjusted the fit. There was a shuffling sound behind her and she felt his hand on her lower back, urging her upper body toward the sink.
"I'm going to pull your panties down and insert a plug in your ass." A tremor shot through her and he ran his fingers down her spine. "I won't hurt you, angel. Just lean forward and relax."
The sink was cold as she rested her abdomen against it. She felt him unbuckle the clasps attached to her stockings just before he pulled her panties down. He stopped when the material was beneath her knees.
"Spread your legs as far as you can."
She broadened her stance until the underwear prevented any further movement. He pressed against her back until she went flush against the counter, her breasts flat against the surface. A click echoed in the room and she waited as he did something she could only visualize. She imagined him gliding his lubricated fingers up and down the toy, making sure it would slide easily into her ass. In a way, she was grateful she couldn't see. If she saw whatever it was he planned to place in her rectum, she was sure she'd balk---or at least say yellow.
She gasped when she felt his finger slide between her cheeks. He rotated the tip against the sensitive area before he slipped his finger inside. It didn't hurt but felt odd, especially when he removed his finger only to return again with more of the slippery substance.
"Here we go. Take a deep breath and bear down. This plug is small, so you can get used to being stretched. If all goes well we'll keep replacing them until you can take me without any discomfort."
Something cold and hard prodded against her anus and slowly eased inside. It wasn't bad at first, but as he kept going, she was tempted to ask him if he was certain it was the smallest size. Despite the lubrication it burned and was far from comfortable. She wasn't sure anal sex was something she was interested in after all. He stopped and caressed her lower back.
"All done."
He pulled up her panties, fixed her garters and moved her aside to wash his hands. She tried not to squirm but the thing deeply inside her ass was impossible to ignore. It wasn't painful but definitely noticeable, creating fullness in a place she wasn't accustomed to.
When she felt his hand at her elbow, she followed and tried to place one foot in front of the other without stumbling. It was more difficult to walk in the dark than she'd thought it would be. Thankfully, Michael steered her perfectly. They stopped, he released her arm and she heard clothes shuffling.
"Stay still, angel. I'm going to wrap you in my coat." He slid a garment around her shoulders. "You'll wear this when we're outside but once we enter Fantasia it comes off."
Panic arose, suffocating her. How in the world could she face a room full of people in nothing more than a corset, panties, garters, stockings and heels?
She struggled to remember the party at Brian and Trevor's home. The submissives had been almost completely naked. Michael had allowed her to choose what she was comfortable in, which left her partially clothed but covered for the most part. He'd also said he wouldn't do anything she didn't want.
"Are you having second thoughts? If you are, now's the time to say so."
"No, Master."
He closed the coat, slowly brushing his fingers against her skin as he slid each button into its proper slot. She could feel his breath against her face, so much closer with the heels that made her come past his chest. When he finished, she waited until she heard the door open and he wrapped an arm around her waist to walk into the cold winter air. The car he arrived in was directly in front of her house. She heard the door open and was seated in seconds. As he slid in next to her, keeping her close at his side, she realized she was in a limousine again. The door closed, the car started moving and an unexpected tingling in her ass caused her to gasp and jerk.
Holy shit.
"Relax," Michael murmured into her ear. He pulled the coat aside and placed his hand on her thigh. "We've got a long ride ahead of us."
Relax? Was he insane?
If Michael had asked her minutes ago how she felt about a vibrating plug, her answer would have been less than enthusiastic. Now, when she was stuck in the back of a car with Michael who was dressed to kill and smelled so good she wanted to straddle him and take him for a test drive? The humming in her backside was doing something she would have never thought possible.
The evil, torturous device was turning her on.
\*
Michael's hard-on had finally subsided by the time they arrived at Fantasia. The entire trip he'd watched Lacey writhe in the seat as he played with the controller that stimulated the untouched nerve endings in her beautiful round bottom. Each time he'd upped the vibration she'd bitten her lip in an effort to remain quiet. He'd teased and tormented her until they were about ten minutes away before he shut the plug off and slipped the remote into his pocket.
She was nervous, he could tell. When she wasn't wringing her fingers she was fiddling with the buttons on his coat. He had to give her credit. From the moment he'd entered her home, she'd done exactly as he'd instructed. Even though he'd sensed her hesitation when he warned her about what she could expect at the club, she'd accepted what he said without question. That alone told him she wanted this to work, which was a step in the right direction.
He almost didn't want the ride to end. Once they crossed the threshold to the establishment he'd see how far her resolve went. Tonight he'd push her as far as he thought she would go, testing her limits. If she could trust him enough to take care of her, she'd see the risk was worth the reward.
If she couldn't...
He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
If Lacey removed the blindfold and walked out the door, he'd have no choice but to watch her go. He couldn't change who he was to keep her. They either shared the same interests or they didn't. His parents had always had a level of trust he envied. If his father told his mother to do something, she never hesitated. The same went for his old man. Their loyalty and dedication were unshakable, even in death.
That was the kind of future he wanted for himself and the woman he shared his life with. The kink didn't mean shit in the larger scheme of things. It was about the ability to place everything you were---heart and soul---in the hands of someone else and know they would never do anything to betray you, hurt you or use it against you.
The car stopped and he waited for Jacob to open the door before he urged Lacey to step out. Jacob assisted her and moved back when Michael wrapped his arm around her and guided her toward the steps. He could feel her shaking but he wasn't sure if it was the cold or fear that caused the reaction. And there wasn't any sense in trying to interpret which. As soon as they stepped inside, he'd know for certain.
"We're going up stairs. I'll count them off for you."
He started counting as they climbed---one, two, three, four, five and six---and righted her when they reached the entrance. The building was understated. There were no lights or signs to indicate you were at a BDSM establishment. The location and purpose were a closely hidden secret. You only got into Fantasia with a direct invite, and those who were fortunate enough to become members were extremely picky about who they trusted with the address.
The moment they stepped inside, he waited for Lacey to reach for the blindfold or indicate she was having second thoughts. Aside from taking a deep breath, she didn't imply in any way that she wasn't ready to go through with what he had planned for her.
"Hello, Mike." Anthony---the large Dom situated behind the desk---nodded at him. "It's busy inside but Vaughn reserved a table for you. It's the back booth next to the bar."
"Thanks." Michael walked to the desk and handed Anthony the consent form. "Have a good night."
Anthony glanced at the papers, grinned and looked at Lacey. "You too."
Michael walked Lacey to the door that would take them to a narrow hallway to the club. He opened it with his free hand, led her inside and stepped into place beside her. They walked in silence until they reached the final door, and he held his breath.
This was it. The moment of truth.
As they entered the club multiple voices, a few soft cries and the normal sounds from the bar rushed to greet them. There were four floors. The first was the basement, which had been remodeled into a dungeon where various scenes took place. The second was the floor connected to the main entrance, which had a bar, seating area and a couple places for open play. The third contained an assortment of rooms, some of which were themed and available for multiples play or private sessions. The fourth and final level---off limits to most visitors---was Vaughn's private floor.
Only a handful of people had been invited the owner of Fantasia's private abode. Although Vaughn owned a large cabin near the river, he worked so often he practically lived inside the club. His space was personal and off-limits.
"There's a dressing room, but since you can't see, I think we'll make do with the coatrack tonight."
He started unbuttoning his coat, gauging Lacey's reaction, studying her face. Her chin was quivering slightly but there were no frown lines on her forehead or anything else to indicate she was ready to put an end to the evening. As he pulled the clothing from her shoulders, he continued watching her. He almost expected her to try to cover herself but she didn't. She remained still, waiting for his next instruction as he placed the coat on a hook in the wall.
"The heels you wore are sexy as hell, but since you can't see I think it might be better if I carry them for you." He grasped her wrists and brought her hands to his shoulders. "Hold on to me. I don't want you to fall."
He took the right shoe off first and caressed the length of her leg before he did the same with the left. She kept her hands on his shoulders when he straightened, despite the fact that she was staring directly at his chest.
"Lift your chin." She did, but not enough. "Higher."
When he could reach her mouth, he skimmed his lips across hers. A chaste kiss, considering where they were, but it was more than enough. The muscles in his torso went tight as his cock began to swell. He pulled away, wrapped his hand around her arm and walked toward the floor.
Several people nodded in welcome or offered a polite greeting. That was the good thing about being a regular at Fantasia---everyone around him knew he was selective and he was possessive. Since he'd never come to the club with someone they didn't recognize, Lacey's presence was bound to cause attention.
He made it to the booth Vaughn had reserved for him and waited until Lacey's feet touched the large cushion on the floor used by submissives. "On your knees, right here."
She didn't comply immediately and he thought she might resist until he saw she was trying to get her bearings. He held her arm as she lowered herself to the cushion.
"Make sure you're comfortable." He waited until she adjusted her position before he stroked her head and praised, "That's my good girl."
"I see you finally made it." Vaughn approached the booth from the floor of the club. He was a big son of a bitch, a former football player who ended his career his senior year in college due to a knee injury. He glanced at Lacey and smiled. "This must be the sub Trevor told me about."
Michael noted the way Lacey's shoulders tightened and her jaw clenched. He wanted to take Lacey upstairs then and there. Yes, it would test her in ways this didn't compare to. It would force her to realize just how far he'd go to respect her wishes. But looking at Vaughn, who had that fucking know-it-all gleam in his eye, caused Michael to question his decision.
"She's been instructed not to speak."
"Punishment?"
"Conditioning."
Vaughn sat in the booth and arched a brow. "Without a gag?"
"That's your cuppa," Michael said, throwing Vaughn's earlier remark back at him. "Not mine."
"Only when necessary. A mouth is so much better when it's accessible."
It was impossible not to notice Lacey wringing her hands. Michael leaned over and ran his fingers over the back of her head, keeping each glide slow and smooth, until her fingers stilled and she took a deep breath.
"I can see why you're taken with her." Vaughn studied Lacey and smiled. "She's not only beautiful but she calms at the slightest touch."
He didn't stop stroking Lacey's hair. "Did you ever get in touch with Shiloh?"
Vaughn's smile vanished. "She's off tonight."
One of the submissives who worked as a server to pay her annual fees approached the table and Michael shook his head when she asked if he wanted anything. Vaughn did the same. Alcohol was served but the amount was limited. Two drink maximum. If Lacey hauled ass and told him to fuck off, Michael had a pretty good feeling he'd need both of those drinks and then some.
"Have you spoken with Brian or Trevor?" Vaughn inquired casually.
"Not since I left."
"They wanted Conner's membership revoked. I told them no."
"I'd say that's fair."
Vaughn glanced at him. "They don't think so."
"You have to look at it from their point of view." Michael sat back and put his hands on the table, keeping his eyes on Lacey. "A woman they both want was hurt, and they're angry about it. When some time passes they'll be able to see things with clearer heads."
"Or they'll stop coming here and remove their financial interests in Fantasia."
"Is that what they told you?"
"Not in so many words."
Talk about a threat. Vaughn might own Fantasia but Brian and Trevor backed the D/s workshops held twice a year, as well as the fundraiser in the summer that went toward abused women and children.
"Give them a few days. Brian is hotheaded and when Trevor is distracted he usually allows that mentality to influence his decisions."
"Topping from the bottom?"
"You said that. Not me."
"Vaughn!" someone shouted from the bar. "Phone call."
"That means my time is up." Vaughn slid from the booth and moved to the front of the small circular table. He stopped just inches from Lacey and bent at the waist. "Enjoy your evening, little sub." She didn't make a peep, although she did lean away from his voice. Vaughn laughed and looked at Michael. "You don't like to share, and it appears she fully endorses the sentiment."
"Good night." Michael ran his knuckles down Lacey's arm and smiled at the man with the smug grin standing across from him. "Say hi to Shiloh for me."
As he expected, the grin became a scowl and Vaughn muttered, "Smartass," as he vanished into the crowd.
The night was picking up and more people were entering the building. Michael had thought he'd remain in the public area for at least an hour, giving him time to mentally prepare for what he was about to do. In retrospect, when faced with the prospect of numerous conversations about Brian, Trevor, Aly and Conner, he wanted to get as far away from the regulars as possible.
"Lacey." He bent until his mouth was against her ear. "We're about to go upstairs. Since it's a steep incline, I'm going to carry you."
She nodded and he gave her one final out before there was no going back.
"If you don't want to do this, you can remove your blindfold and say red. I won't hold it against you. I'll take you back to the limo and you can go home."
When she shook her head and lifted her arms, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. He held her longer than he meant to, rocking from side to side, creating a mental snapshot of how perfectly she fit against him. Sadly the moment---no matter how fondly he looked back on it---couldn't last forever.
He nuzzled the top of her head as he carried her from the club, hoping like hell that it wouldn't be the final time, and walked toward the stairs.
This is it, Michael had said. Whatever it was, she was ready.
She'd already paraded around perfect strangers in her underwear. Even with the blindfold, she'd felt the weight of their stares. It was unnerving but Michael had remained beside her the entire time, comforting her with his touch, calming her fears.
The volume in the club had increased, telling her more people had entered the establishment. She was grateful when Michael lifted her into his arms, walked for a bit and started carrying her up the stairs he'd told her about. The sounds changed, going from casual conversations to groans and passionate cries. He continued walking for several paces, stopped and shifted her slightly as she heard a door open.
To her surprise, it sounded as if they'd returned to the area they'd just left. Several conversations were taking place, as if they were seated at a normal bar on a Saturday night instead of a BDSM club.
"I'm going to put you down. Feel for the floor."
She did as he said and placed her feet flat on the ground. She felt him move in beside her and it sounded like he took a seat.
"Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to put on your heels, remove everything but your stockings and bend you over the bar we're in front of."
All night she'd tried to maintain her composure---even with the damn plug up her ass that she felt every time she moved. Sure, it hadn't been easy, but walking around in a corset that covered most of her body made things a little easier to accept. But this? The mere mention of him stripping her naked for the entire world to see petrified her.
"You're hesitating. Do you want to call it a night and remove the blindfold?"
Damn, damn, damn!
This wasn't fair. She'd made it so far, only to turn and run now? She'd told Michael she wasn't interested in getting kinky in front of others but she wasn't quitting. Who cared if people saw her imperfections? Browsing the web showed her that submissives came in all shapes and sizes. Hell, Dominants did too. It was no different than the nudist beach in San Diego she'd been brave enough to go to on a dare from Candice. If she could face all of those people in her birthday suit, she could do the same here.
"No, Master."
He turned her toward him and started working the snaps of the corset free. Her heart was racing, she was trembling from head to toe but she refused to back down. When cool air hit her breasts, she felt her nipples go hard.
Michael unlatched the clasps from her stockings and started pulling down her panties. As embarrassed as she was, she was also soaking wet, her underwear nothing more than a barrier to collect her juices. He took her hands, placed them on the bar and moved into place behind her. Then he lifted her feet one at a time to slide her heels on.
"What can I get you?"
The unexpected voice had her lunging backward and into Michael. He wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her close.
"Water, please." Michael's voice was a husky rasp against her head.
Oh dear god.
There was a bartender right in front of them, watching the entire time.
She felt a flush spread all over her body. How many other people were directly beside them or watching from tables? She couldn't hear any close conversations but that didn't mean anything. A crowd could be directly beside her and she wouldn't know it.
"You can still take off your blindfold, angel," Michael said. "You can end this here and now."
She shook her head.
"If you want to continue, I need to hear you say it."
Michael lifted his hands and cupped her breasts. He pinched her nipples between his fingers and tugged at the stiff beads.
"No, M-Master." Warmth spread from her belly to her pussy. Somewhere in her family line there had to be a total harlot. Because right here, right now, she wanted his hands all over her body. She didn't care who might see. All she could focus on was the large man pressed against her back. "Don't stop."
He removed his hands, leaving her quaking in her heels. "Lean across the bar."
The counter was so cold against her breasts it made her nipples ache. She held back a wince, determined to remain quiet as people continued talking all around them. Michael's weight settled on top of her and she felt the whisper of his breath against her face.
"I'm going to fuck you, Lacey. I'm going to take you hard and fast against the bar. When I do, I'm going to turn on the vibrator in your ass and you're going to come for me---just for me. I'm going to make you shiver. I'm going to make you melt. I'm going to show you what you've needed in a man has been in front of you this whole time but you've been too blind to see it. By the time I'm finished you'll be so consumed by the two of us that this entire room will disappear."
And then she knew what he wanted, what he planned.
He was going to have sex with her in front of God and everyone.
What was wrong with her? She knew she should say no, scream for mercy and rip off the blindfold. No self-respecting person would do such a thing. Even as the voice cautioned she was about to do something she could never take back, another voice reminded her that Michael had promised he would never do anything to embarrass her.
Which was right and which was wrong? She didn't know, and she didn't have time to decide.
"Do you want to take off the blindfold now? Have you had enough?"
Had she had enough? Almost. What he was about to do wasn't something she fantasized about, forcing her to step over an invisible line she didn't want to cross. Yet there was something in Michael's voice, as if he expected her to remove the blindfold shielding her view of the room. She wouldn't do it, no matter how guilty or remorseful she might feel after the fact.
"No, Master." She didn't stammer, her decision made. If she wanted Michael, she had to give him what he asked for.
No more doubt.
No more insecurity.
Only trust.
She heard the distinct rip of a zipper being undone, followed by the crisp sounds of a foil wrapper being opened. If she was going to remove her blindfold and cry uncle, the time was now. Instead she wrapped her hands around the edge of the counter, waited as the head of Michael's cock slid against her pussy and moaned when he began filling her inch by slow inch. The plug in her ass made the fit all the tighter, allowing her to feel his entire width pressing against her vaginal walls.
When he was fully sheathed, he ran his hand along her back, giving her time to become accustomed to the sensation. Then he retreated and returned. Slow and steady. His rhythm unhurried and intentional. She bit her lip to keep from crying out his name, arching her back. Her breasts slid against the bar top, sending tendrils of electricity from her nipples to her core.
"You're so beautiful," Michael whispered and nipped her shoulder. "And now you're mine." He thrust into her hard. "All." He withdrew and drove into her again. "Fucking." He repeated the motion, so determined that she felt a slight give in her cervix. "Mine."
A low click was the only warning she got before the plug in her rectum started vibrating. It was too much stimulus, too much overload as Michael continued pounding into her. She lifted her head, pushed back into his thrusts and screamed as she shattered.
"Michael!"
He was everywhere but nowhere. She could feel him but she couldn't see him. Her pussy clenched and released his cock, spasming as the intensity of her orgasm had dots swimming before her eyes.
"I'm here, darlin'." His arm looped around her waist and he wrapped a hand around her shoulder. "I've got you."
He continued moving, faster and faster. His hands protected her from the wood as he rolled his hips, plunging into her so violently that her breasts swayed back and forth. She wrapped her hand around his wrist, digging her fingernails into his skin. That only seemed to fuel him further.
"I want you to come one more time, angel. Come with me."
She whimpered when his fingers stroked her clit, rubbing in a fast, frantic motion. He didn't stop thrusting, keeping up the pace until she was right there with him. Her muscles coiled, her skin started to grow warm and she felt the steady building in her belly. Like before, there was no warning. A climax seared her like an open flame, tingling and spreading through her torso before moving outward. Michael was right behind her, groaning in her ear as her pussy milked him, continuing to move even as his cock pulsed inside her and went still.
The arm holding her was the only reason she didn't flop across the counter. She was panting, struggling to breathe. Nothing had ever been like this, and nothing ever would again. Her reserved nature tried to claw to life but she suffocated it quickly. Later she might regret being so brazen. Tonight she did what Michael asked of her.
It wasn't until she was breathing normally that she realized all the conversations had stopped. She froze, going utterly still beneath the man who had her trapped against the counter.
Was everyone watching? Was there going to be a round of applause?
She got her answer when the blindfold slid down her face and fell on the counter, allowing her to see for the first time in hours. They were resting against a bar. Mirrors lined the wall, allowing her to see Michael's bare ass and her very naked body. Booths and tables were scattered around with cushions on the floor next to them.
She paused in amazement, struggling to believe what she was seeing.
The only thing watching them was the lifelike dummy bartender standing a few feet in front of her. There were speakers mounted into each corner of the room and a tiny circular button just in front of her.
She pressed the small nodule and heard the same voice that startled her earlier. "What can I get you?"
What the hell?
"I told you'd I'd never do anything to embarrass or hurt you," Michael said, exhaling against her back. "I would never do anything you didn't want."
"What is this place?" She couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Where are we?"
"This is a room for people who want to explore exhibitionism. If a Dom has a submissive who is excited by the prospect of playing in public he can bring her here, invite experienced couples to watch and control the environment."
It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. There had been people here when Michael stripped her clothing away and fucked her silly. If they'd been alone, some inner part of her would have recognized it. She would have known that it was only the two of them.
Wouldn't she?
"No one else was ever here?"
"No." His hair caressed the area between her shoulders and she felt his lips brushing the middle of her spine.
It had all been a trick. From the moment they'd entered this room it had only been her and Michael, no one else. She should have felt duped. The knowledge that none of it had been real should have made her as angry as hell.
So why didn't it?
Because he asked you to give him your trust and he proved he wouldn't break it.
Michael never said he would take her against the bar while people watched. He never insinuated he would fuck her in front of God and everyone. Those were her own insecurities, her own doubts. Each time she'd hesitated, he'd offered her the easy way out. There was nothing but total honesty on his part.
The truth wasn't easy to take but it was necessary. The point Michael so desperately wanted to make was far more important than the D/s trust and honesty code. From the moment they'd entered into a relationship he'd always been open with her. When the cards were down and he needed her support, she'd taken that honesty and crushed it, treating him as if he didn't deserve any kind of credit. She questioned him time and again, despite the numerous things he had done to prove his loyalty.
It was so obvious now. So clear. She knew how far he'd go for her. He just needed to know how far she was willing to go for him.
"It was just a test?" she whispered, stunned by the realization.
"I'd say it was more than that."
"Did I pass?"
He pulled free of her body, turned her around and pulled her into his arms. "We both did."
Then he kissed her, and she knew he'd been asking for her trust because he'd never take advantage of something so important to him. Michael was the man she'd always wanted, standing right before her, but it took her being blind to the world to finally see.
Sagging against him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and knew this time she would never let go. He made her shiver. He made her melt. And as promised, when he finished, everything but the two of them disappeared.
Candice parked her car in front of Lacey's house and took a deep breath. She didn't want to go inside and have dinner with her best friend and her brand-spanking-new fiancée, but if she wanted to remain a part of Lacey's life she was going to have to make some adjustments.
She looked at herself in the rearview mirror, smoothing her hair. "This entire situation is fucked up."
All right, maybe that was taking it too far. She was happy for Lacey. She'd managed to find a man who treated her right and had her best interests at heart. Mike doted on her friend in a way that made her as jealous as it did nauseous. The courtship had been fast---too fast to most in their small town---but their affection and love appeared genuine. They were like newlyweds already, sharing secret whispers, exchanging knowing looks.
Not to mention they couldn't keep their hands off each other.
The trouble was, watching the two of them together made her yearn for something she didn't understand. She didn't want a relationship. She wasn't interested in putting her heart on the line in order to establish one. It was best to keep things on a strictly sexual level when it came to men. She enjoyed what they offered, she gave them what they needed in turn and both parties walked away happy.
So why did that suddenly sound so callous to her? As if she were mistreating the men she made arrangements with who were eager to accept her nostrings-attached policy?
"You can lie to the world but don't lie to yourself," she told her reflection, studying her face. "You know exactly why it bothers you so much."
Brady fucking Stone.
Either God was trying to send her a message or she had shitty timing, because everywhere she went she bumped into the man. She'd seen him at the grocery store, when she was staking out the local pet store to do a story on a puppy mill and then again when she'd met with Brian Laing and Trevor Carmack at Rolo's Café to discuss the whereabouts of a woman who'd left their home weeks ago and never returned.
She righted the mirror and sighed. That last visit had turned out to be far more than she anticipated. When she explained she needed assistance from the Plainview Police Department, which would have information she couldn't gather on her own, they told her it was no problem and Brady showed up. Brian and Trevor were quick to point out how useful Candice and Brady could be to each other. She could question the people who phoned in with anonymous tips while Brady could screen the information against what he had in the database at work. It was a match made in heaven that totally wasn't.
Faced with paying her rent or saying no, she'd decided to take the job and investigate the whereabouts of one Alyssa McIntyre. Unfortunately, that meant she could no longer avoid Brady's calls or tell him to leave her alone. This was business, after all, and she was a professional.
"Keep lying to yourself," she murmured and reached for her purse. "Maybe you'll start to believe it."
She climbed from her car, adjusted her shirt and tugged her purse over her shoulder. Lacey's windows were open, so she could see inside. Michael had Lacey pressed against a wall, kissing her hard, and his hand was between her legs. They didn't seem to notice or care she was coming up the walkway.
Candice's libido kicked into gear and she realized soon she'd have to make a trip to Atlanta and release some pent-up tension. That had to be the problem. The last time she'd had sex was when she'd tied Brady's beautiful body to the bed, teased him mercilessly and ridden him so hard she'd thought the headboard might break. The entire time she'd used his arms as leverage, keeping her hands balanced on his bulging biceps. As he'd strained his prominent muscles, she'd thought the rope, the clasp on the cuff or the latch on the wall was going to splinter and fall apart.
Heat spread from her tummy to her pussy. Not only was Brady tall and broad, so was his cock. It had only taken minutes for her to come, screaming, which didn't happen very often. It was probably the loudest and most vocal she'd allowed herself to be with a submissive.
How did she know that for certain?
She had the damn disc he gave her after he visited her house weeks ago, a video of her fucking him like a common street tramp on the night they spent together. He was definitely worth the ride, although now it seemed to be turning into more of an extended trip.
"Stop it, would you?" She shook her shoulders loose and started walking. "Get your head out of the gutter."
When she knocked on the door, she heard Lacey yelp and Michael's muted laughter.
"I'm coming!" Lacey yelled.
"Not yet, you're not," Mike said and Candice heard a hearty slap, one she was sure was delivered directly to Lacey's backside.
The door swung open and Lacey appeared. She was breathing fast and her cheeks were red. Mike joined her, wrapping his arm around Lacey's waist.
"Hi, Candy." Lacey rolled her eyes and took a step back, forcing Mike to do the same.
"You two are so sweet I think I might go into sugar shock." Candice stepped inside and placed her purse on the floor.
"It's all her." Mike kissed the side of Lacey's neck.
"You crazy kids." Candice shook her head and walked to the table. The wine for dinner was already open and waiting. She was to going to need it if she was going to last the evening.
"Go ahead and take a seat," Lacey said when Mike finally let her go. "I'll get the lasagna out of the oven."
Candice slid into her chair and Mike walked to a seat across the table. "How's work?"
Poor bastard. He still didn't know how to interact with her, which was mostly her fault. She'd kept him at a safe distance, just like she did every man aside from her father.
"Same ol', same ol'." She smiled and tried to keep the mood light.
He took the wine from the metal chiller and started filling his and Lacey's glasses. "Any news about Aly?"
She shook her head. Brian and Trevor had contacted all the clubs in the southern portion of the United States but there was no guarantee Aly hadn't traveled outside of their scope.
"Her parents weren't any help?"
Candice wanted to cringe. "Have you met those people?"
"No. Aly said she hadn't had contact with them in years."
"Good for her. I wouldn't have contact with them either." The information Brady had shared wasn't pleasant. Aly had an alcoholic father who used violence to sort out his issues and a passive mother who let her husband do whatever he wanted. Being anywhere near the McIntyre household wouldn't be good.
"That bad?"
"Worse," she answered and took a drink of her wine.
He didn't say anything else when Lacey walked from the kitchen with dinner in her hands and sat the dish in the center of the table.
"I heard the two of you, you know." She ran her hand along Mike's shoulder as she sat in the chair between him and Candice. "If you want to discuss Aly, feel free. I've started to become concerned about her myself."
Michael took Lacey's hand, brought it to his mouth and ran his lips along the back of her knuckles. Trying not to notice the tender gesture, Candice decided to do as Lacey requested.
"Since she withdrew her savings and closed her account, we still can't find a paper trail. There were a few leads but unless she slips up and uses her real name somewhere, it's going to be impossible to track her down."
"She'll slip up." Mike didn't sound happy. "It's only a matter of time."
"If she's anything like I've heard, I'm sure she will."
Full-time submissives didn't do well on their own. From the information Candice had gathered about Aly, the woman had to be hurting. First she was abandoned by her family for her lifestyle choice, which, all things considered, was probably a good thing. Then her stability with the Dom she'd trusted was broken when he decided he wanted change and a new life. Two strikes, back to back, had certainly hit their mark.
"How's Brady?" Lacey smiled as she asked.
If she and her friend had been alone, Candice would have given Lacey an ear full. Damn her for bringing the sexy police officer into the conversation when she couldn't fight back.
"I don't know. You'd have to ask him."
"I thought you were working together?"
"We're sharing information, not working together." Candice started piling food onto her plate so she could eat and avoid answering more questions.
"That's odd." Lacey turned to Mike. He gave her a warning look but it was too late. "You said he was working on a lead."
"Hold up." Candice didn't bother reaching for her fork. "What lead?"
"Nothing." Lacey shrugged. "I'm sure he'll tell you if he finds anything."
Son of a bitch. Brady was supposed to run checks on the leads she acquired, not investigate. If he got information she needed and gave it to Brian and Trevor before she did, they might take that as an indication that she wasn't doing what she was being paid for.
"What lead?" She glared at Lacey. "Don't backtrack now. It's too late."
"He's driving to Memphis to talk to a woman who saw the fliers Brian and Trevor passed around," Mike answered and looked at his submissive in a way that promised she was going to pay for her interference. "The description the caller provided was on the money. He wanted to hurry to the club in case Aly might be there."
"Which club? When's he leaving?"
"The Den, and he left about an hour ago."
Hell no. Brady was not going to talk to his source alone. The Den was in a seedy part of Memphis, so he probably did it because he wanted to protect her.
How many times did she have to tell him she was fully capable of taking care of herself?
Candice rose from the table. "I'm going to have to cut dinner short. I'll take a rain check."
"Brady's a big boy, you know." Mike grasped Lacey's arm when she started to rise from her seat. "He can take care of himself."
"Let's hope so, because when I catch up to him I'm going to tear him a new asshole," Candice snapped, ready to rumble.
She promptly retrieved her purse and hit the door. Brady Stone was about to have her size seven boot shoved up his ass. By the time she arrived at The Den, she hoped her temper had decreased a few notches. If not, she just might take her frustrations out on his body and remind him why she was not a person to fuck with.
Not unless she commanded it.
\*
"You're going to pay for that." Michael kept his grip on Lacey's forearm as he turned in his seat and faced her. She was grinning, not the least bit afraid of what was coming. He tugged her from her seat and pulled her into his lap. She went soft against him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"If she can't get her head out of her ass, the least I can do is try to help."
Ballsy little woman. It was one of many reasons he loved her so much. "What have I told you about playing matchmaker?"
"I don't know." She wriggled her ass, reminding him of what they'd started but hadn't had a chance to finish. "Why don't you remind me?"
He brushed his cheek against hers and cupped her breast. "What about dinner?"
"When has that ever stopped us?"
"Good point. Hang on." He lifted her, held her close and started walking toward the bedroom. "When Brady calls he's going to be pissed. How do you suppose I explain what happened?"
"I'm sure you'll think of something."
"Oh I'm going to do more than that." He carried her inside the room, strode to the bed and lowered her to the mattress. "I'm going to make sure I can tell him I've punished you before he calls. I can't have him thinking you've made me grow soft."
"So you're not going to go easy on me?" She batted her eyelashes and parted her legs so he could settle between them.
Go easy? When he could have her writhing beneath him and telling she loved him over and over? Those three words were the reason she was the most important person in his life, why he couldn't wait to make things official between them. This was the beginning of their life together, the start of a future that was as open as the sky.
Given the opportunity, he wanted to hear her scream "I love you" as often as possible.
He bent over her, ready to watch her fall apart in his arms. She lifted her head to kiss him, making his heart thump wildly inside his chest. He'd finally found what he'd longed for. The one person to complete him. He'd never give that up, no matter the price.
"Not a chance, angel." She whimpered as he started the dance, teasing her with light brushes of his fingertips, starting with her breasts.
"I love you," she whispered, revving him up for this particular round of play. "God, I love you so much."
Fuck if he'd ever get tired of hearing her say that.
"I love you too."
Looking up at him with a teasing smile, she asked, "But you won't go easy on me?"
"No way in hell, darlin'."
He brought a nipple between his fingers and pinched, watching as Lacey arched her back and gasped, her face turning a glorious shade of pink. Damn straight he wasn't going easy on her. Not when he could have this.
No way in hell.
The End
About the Author
Aline Hunter is the alias of multi-published author J.A. Saare, who has written stories featured in horror magazines, zombie romance anthologies and flash fiction contests. Her work has a notable dark undertone, which she credits to her love of old eighties horror films, tastes in music and choices in reading, and has been described as "full of sensual promise," "gritty and sexy" and "a breath of fresh air."
Currently she is penning multiple projects within the urban fantasy, erotic and contemporary, and paranormal romance categories.
Aline welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Aline Hunter
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