“But I’m ready now.”
“You don’t know what I’m gonna tell you. It might change your mind.” Duke stood, dislodging her. He braced a hand in front of his crotch.
“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.” She got to her feet then crossed her arms over her chest.
“Why don’t we call it a day?”
“We didn’t even train long.” She wasn’t ready to be away from him yet.
“My willpower is gone. We’ll have to cut this short.” He pushed a hand through his dark hair.
“You could take me home?”
“Your thighs against mine, your breasts pressed into my back? That’s a bad idea.”
“But—’’
“No arguments.” Duke loped out of the room.
Rose sighed. So much for anticipation.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Rose drove to Duke’s place in the pickup, barely able to contain her excitement. Voo had tried to entice her to eat more than a biscuit this morning, but she’d only been able to swallow a couple of bites—too many butterflies in her stomach.
Rose felt like a kid on Christmas Eve—only instead of sugar plums, erotic fantasies danced in her head, each sexier than the last.
However, the reality wasn’t so sexy.
She found Duke, dressed in his training clothes, riding a stationary bike in the gym. His hair was tousled, and he had dark circles under his eyes. She wondered if he’d gotten any sleep the night before. Rose doubted the insomnia had come from delicious anticipation.
She wondered if he intended to back out, if he no longer wanted to pursue a sexual relationship with her.
“Have a seat, Firecracker.”
Rose perched on the seat of the stationary bike beside his.
“Are you still interested?” His face was impassive.
“Yes.”
Duke dragged a hand down his cheek. “I’m not a normal man.”
“Okay. Explain.” In her very short life, she’d seen a lot of abnormal—it could mean anything.
“I like to be in control in the bedroom. I’m the boss.”
Rose nodded. “Uh, yeah, you’re very bossy, but I love it.” His alpha male nature was kind of hot. “I’ve heard rumors you like kinky sex.”
She thought about telling him what the hellion said but decided against it. If she did, he’d end up getting pissed off. Talk about a mood killer.
“Fuck. I wanted to be the one to tell you. The rumor mill is a pain in the ass.”
When Kent had been in control of her, it’d been terrifying, sickening. Duke’s admission didn’t scare her because trusted him.
“I’m used to not being in charge in bed, so it isn’t a big deal.”
Duke paced. “I could see from the toys in his fucking torture chamber, he was into BDSM—but he was a fucking wannabe. No real man would ever force a woman to play out his fantasies.” He stopped, standing in front of her. “There should be limits, rules—it’s why I got into the lifestyle in the first place.”
“Because you were raped.”
He flinched, uncomfortable with the term. Rose understood. What big, strong man wanted to admit he’d been raped? Men were supposed to be the sexual aggressors.
“Yeah, that’s why I like it. Control, I mean, but it should be safe and sane, and completely consensual. What happened to both of us wasn’t any of those things.”
“I know.” She tilted her head to look up at him.
“I don’t want to stir up horrible memories for you or talk you into something you don’t want to do.”
Why didn’t he stop talking and touch her?
“Gotcha.” She placed a hand on his arm. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips.
“Okay, then. Do you want to come downstairs with me?”
Rose licked her lips. “What’s downstairs?”
Duke smiled slowly, sensually, and a bolt of delicious anticipation ran through her.
“I call it The Vault. Wanna see?”
And, yes, from the way he said it, the name should be capitalized.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
***
The Vault was large and had been converted from a basement into an adult playground. The walls were cement, giving the space an industrial feel, but the cold vibe had been softened by rugs and furnishings. The floors were finished–a dark hardwood set in a diamond pattern, giving it a rippling optical illusion. A row of windows lined the outside wall, but they were near the ceiling so the space remained private.
Duke crossed to a large stone fireplace on the far wall and stoked up a fire before he lit sticks of incense in large iron burners. The incense gave off a deep, dark scent–musky like sandalwood. On the mantel were several amber-colored candles, as thick as her wrist, in a long glass candelabra. In front of the fireplace, near a small pile of logs, were dozens of smaller candles, tiny tea lights in glass holders.
He lit all of them, giving the room a romantic glow. A long, black leather sofa sat a few feet from the fireplace, and she imagined herself curled up on it, enjoying the firelight. Rose felt right at home with Duke.
Duke said nothing—just let her soak in the atmosphere.
Along the right wall, a king-sized wooden bed hung suspended in the air by four heavy chains threaded through each of the four bedposts, all of which were securely bolted to the ceiling. The bedding was black and white with a fleur de lis pattern. On the wall was a control panel, near the headboard, which must raise and lower the bed. Near the foot of the bed stood an antique steamer trunk.
Duke had kinky furniture too—a large wrought iron St. Andrew’s cross with black padding on the steel frame, a couple of stockades, and a big padded bench.
“What do you think?” Duke asked minutes later.
Unlike Kent’s sex dungeon, The Vault felt carnal and vaguely exotic—a room dedicated to pleasure. Not pain.
“I like it.” Her knees wobbled as she imagined all sorts of seductive scenarios.
“Good. Sit down and we’ll have the talk.” He took her hand and drew her to the couch.
“Another talk?” Rose groaned.
Duke laughed. “Safe, sane, and consensual.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She’d expected him to pounce on her as soon as they were in the room. She was both intrigued and irritated he hadn’t. Kent had always been so impatient, dragging her beneath him at every opportunity, but Duke kept himself on a tight leash.
Rose decided to stop comparing the two. Kent had already used up months of her life. She refused to rent him the space in her head anymore.
Duke draped his arm over the back of the couch, leaving her positioned between the furniture arm and his body.
“Before you and I play, we’ll discuss the ground rules.”
“Are you going to have me sign a slave contract? Kent forced me to sign one, giving all of my rights to him.”
Duke placed a hand over hers. “A lot of people in the lifestyle believe in contracts, but it doesn’t work for me—I like things looser. You decide when and if you want to play with me. Anytime you want to call it quits, you can—no harm, no foul.”
Rose sighed. “Good.”
He traced little circles on the back of her hand—soft caresses—they created shockwaves throughout her body.
“I told you I’m kinky, and I get off on being in charge, but I only control what you choose to let me. A lot of people think subs have no power, but they hold all the important cards, and that’s the way it should be. You’ll choose to submit to me.”
That was a new concept—Rose having power of her own.
“Remember those traffic lights?”
She nodded.
“They apply in The Vault too. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good, because we need to get used to each other. Any relationship has to be flexible, especially a D/s one because we’ll both be learnin’ along the way, but I wouldn’t call myself a master.”
&nb
sp; “What do you want me to call you?”
Kent had insisted she call him master or sir, or sometimes daddy, which was a creepy mixture of paternal and sexual. It’d be fine if she had agreed to those roles, but being forced to bow, scrape, and obey him made everything sordid.
“Call me Duke—and I’ll call you by your first name as well.” His smile was cocky. “It’ll get your attention, and it's easier for you to remember, especially when I get you all hot and bothered.”
Rose sagged against the sofa.
“Like now?”
Sitting here discussing sex was erotic. Rose was wet for him, and her nipples had hardened into two tight points. God, she wanted this man.
His lips parted.
Rose felt light-headed, dizzy.
“Oh, fuck me. Behave yourself or I’ll never get through this.” He gathered himself together after a few silent moments. “Okay. Let’s do hard limits.”
“You first.”
With effort, she turned her attention back to the task at hand.
She’d googled the term, along with other BDSM vocabulary once she’d gained her freedom. Mostly in an attempt to understand what the hell had happened to her. From her research, hard limits meant activities which were completely ‘off the menu.'
Duke ticked off the list on his fingers.
“I’m not interested in breath play, fire play, or electroshock. The only fluids I share are saliva, the sweetness between your thighs,” he said salaciously, “and my come. Nothin’ else.”
“I agree.”
Kent forced the issue of trying watersports, but she’d been rescued before he’d had a chance to pee on her.
Thank God.
“Good. What about birth control?”
“I use the hormonal kind, an implant.” Rose tapped her right arm, where the drug had been slid beneath her skin. “It’s good for three years. I had it implanted when I started college. My adoptive mom wanted me to have it. She was convinced I’d start sleeping around.”
“What a peach.” Duke inclined his head. “I don’t have any STDs. I got tested a few weeks ago, and I tested my, er, partner at the time—which reminds me, I’m not sleepin’ with anyone else. I had a fling, but it ended.”
His hellion had already broken the news, but it was good to hear it from Duke too.
“Good. It’s just you and me then.”
Duke smiled. “And call it a medical hang-up, but I regularly get tested. I’m clean, and I tested you, so you’re good to go. How about we nix the protection? We’ll be monogamous, and you’re already on birth control. Bareback sex is… raw.”
Rose brushed the pad of her thumb over her lower lip. She could almost feel Duke inside her now.
“Uh, I think we should.”
“What else? Anything you don’t enjoy?”
Rose forced herself out the sensual haze. “I don’t want to be fisted.”
Kent had mentioned placing his hand inside her before, and it sounded painful. Rose had escaped before he’d had the opportunity to make her into a human sock puppet.
“It’s an acquired taste, but it’s off limits if you don’t like it. What else?”
Rose thought about being hung by chains from the ceiling again and flinched.
“I don’t like being suspended—I have a fear of heights, and being lifted off the ground scares me.”
“Check. No suspension.”
Duke hadn’t attempted to persuade or pressure her into anything. Rose knew she was making a good decision. Duke and Kent had zero in common.
“What about pain?” she asked.
Kent lived for inflicting it—he’d called her a ‘pain slut’—implying she’d gotten off on her own anguish. Rose could see the pleasure, the excitement in his eyes when she’d screamed. She worried he’d take it too far and inadvertently kill her one night because he was so aroused by hurting her.
“I only do pleasurable pain, like a spanking or nipple clamps. It boosts desire, and I love exploring the sweet spot between the two, but I’m not a sadist. I don’t get off on hurting women—control is my drug.”
That didn’t surprise Rose—Duke had a soft side she suspected not many people got to see.
“And discipline?”
He smirked. “I’ll spank you until your cheeks turn pink. If you like it rougher, I’ll make them glow red.”
“Pink sounds good.” The idea of Duke turning her over his knee and spanking her was hot. She fantasized about him smacking her, then rubbing his fingers between her legs—fueling the wetness, the need.
“Stop it.”
“Whatever do you mean?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, all innocent and wide-eyed.
“Stop fantasizin’.”
“You can’t see inside my head.”
Duke leaned forward. “It’s written all over your face, Firecracker. You need a spanking right now.”
“Whatever you say, Duke.” She lowered her head submissively.
He groaned. “You’re such a tease. Have a little mercy on me—we have to get through this.”
She wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself.
“What about bondage?” he asked.
“I don’t like cages or metal restraints. It’s a hard limit.” Just the feel of metal against her skin made her queasy—she associated the cold sensation with being tortured.
“I don’t do metal. I like soft restraints like leather or silk cords, and I don’t own a fucking cage so it’s not an issue. I do have a thing for rope bondage—have you ever tried it?”
Rose mulled it over. “A little. He preferred metal, but I’ll try more. When will we play?”
“After our training sessions. When we finish sparring, we’ll get down and dirty all over again before you head home. From time to time, you might stay over but not always.” He gestured to the space around them. “I don’t sleep in this room so you’ll have privacy.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Rose was relieved. Kent made her sleep in his bed sometimes like she was his girlfriend. While she wanted to sleep with Duke, she needed boundaries, some distance. Kent had overwhelmed her, taken over her whole life, and it made her leery of letting anyone else get too close. Having sex with Duke was a huge step in itself. Rose wasn’t ready for either the benefits or burdens of a relationship.
“And I need to be very clear. I don’t want any misunderstandings or fallout between us, Rose. I care about you, more than I wanted to—but I’m fucked up. I can’t be your boyfriend.”
Duke needn’t have bothered with the disclaimer.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m screwed up too. I can’t be your girlfriend.” She sighed. “I might never be able to have a normal relationship.” Assuming she wanted one in the first place.
“If you ask me, they’re overrated.” Duke’s mask slipped a bit, and he appeared wolfish, hungry. “It’s time. You ready?”
She could feel the excitement building, thrumming through her body.
“Oh, yes.”
“Stand up,” Duke ordered.
Rose complied.
Duke circled her. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re fuckin’ beautiful, and I’m dyin’ to see more of you. Will you let me undress you?”
“Of course.”
He grasped the bottom of her t-shirt and slowly lifted it over her head, which left her in a sports bra and a pair of yoga pants. Duke hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her pants and tugged them down her thighs, holding them so she could step out of the legs.
Afterward, Duke tossed the material aside. Then he pulled the bra over her head and pitched it on top of the pile with the other clothes, leaving her in the cotton panties. She wished she’d worn something prettier, but she didn’t own anything sexy.
Judging by his heated stare, Duke didn’t seem to mind. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was a mixture of affection and passion.
“Fuck, I need to be inside you, but I want to go slow.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes.” But she felt oddly elated—Rose had the sense she was on the precipice of something incredible.
“I want you to take the lead this time.”
Rose hadn’t counted on that. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been used, but what about your pleasure? What you want?”
Kent played her body like a musical instrument. After he’d make her have an orgasm, he’d tell her it was proof positive she wanted him, wanted to participate in his twisted games. And she’d always felt sick inside, wondering what was wrong with her, why she responded to him the way she did—what it meant.
“Duke, I’m not as much of a victim as you think. With Kent… sometimes… sometimes I came.” It was so shameful.
He kissed the top of her head. “That’s normal.”
She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “What?”
Duke pulled her in close so her head rested on his chest and she felt his heartbeat. Rose stood nearly naked and vulnerable in the circle of his arms, but she felt warm and welcome.
“I did some research when I was a med student. Rape survivors sometimes have orgasms, but it doesn’t mean you wanted it or even enjoyed it. Your body responds, and you can’t control it.”
Rose thought about it a minute.
“I mean, it makes sense, right? Fear and desire got a lot in common. You breathe faster, your pulse picks up.” Duke tipped her chin so she met his eyes. “Kent tried to mind-fuck you with it, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Every time Kent had made her come, she’d been guilt-ridden. Like she’d secretly wanted it somehow—and now she associated sexual pleasure with shame.
“It’s a typical reaction.” He cupped her face. “So don’t carry the guilt around anymore. That’s I want you in charge this time—and only this time. Do what turns you on—I want you to please yourself. Sex should be fun. It should make you feel fantastic, and it’s never been that way for you, has it?”
She shook her head. It’d always been about pleasing someone else, obeying commands—satisfying someone else’s urges—no matter how depraved.
“Well, Firecracker, I’m all yours.”
“Seriously?”
“Of course.” Duke winked. “How’d you think I learned to be dominant?”
Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3) Page 26
