She crossed the threshold. Joe flipped a switch, and three recessed pin lights illuminated a walled diagonal entry. Holding up her finger, she glanced at him.
“Yes. Keep going, gorgeous.”
Hunter walked around the dividing wall and froze.
“Oh…my.”
Huge floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors opened to the wondrous spectacle of Lake Eola and downtown Orlando at night.
Behind her, Joe clasped her shoulders.
“Do you like?”
She leaned against his warm, solid body, doubling the pleasure of this moment. “How could I not? This is breathtaking.”
“Is it too dark in here?” He kissed her head. “I can turn on a light.”
“Not yet, please. This is magical.”
“Let’s make it even more so.”
Releasing her shoulders, Joe moved to the doors, then slid them completely apart. A cool breeze invaded the spacious living room.
“Come to me.” He walked out onto the balcony and held up his palm to her. She rushed to his side.
“Not there.” He smiled. “Here. This is where I want you.” Joe repositioned her body. She ended with her rib cage against the iron balustrade. Her lower back pressed against his stiff cock and her shoulders against the hard planes of his chest. Joe wrapped his arms securely around her.
“Are you afraid of heights? I hope not.”
“This isn’t bad at all. Not like those tall buildings on Orange Avenue. You’re lucky.”
“In so many ways.” He ran the tip of his nose under her earlobe, sniffing lightly. “Love your scent. Soft, musky…so feminine. Where’s the clasp?” Sliding his hands under her breasts, he didn’t wait for her answer. His expert fingers knew where to go. Unerringly he twisted the plastic front closure. The bra came undone, and he took possession of her already stiff peaks.
“Tell me. I want to know how this feels.” He pinched her left nipple. “Don’t hold back.”
“Feels…good,” she whispered.
“Unacceptable.” He stopped the pressure.
No. No. No.
“I’m not used to this…expressing my feelings,” she protested.
“Then start. Try again.”
“Your… Your touch… E-excites m-me.”
“More.” He grazed her nipple with his fingernail, and she exhaled, arching a little. She loved this, the sharp pleasure-and-pain stimulus.
Tell him, you fool, her brain urged. If she didn’t speak, he’d stop again.
“It’s strange,” she sighed. “That thing you do with your fingernail… It travels. I feel it between my legs.”
“Where, Hunter?” His voice thickened. “I want to know where between your legs. Exactly.”
“Ah… Joe,” she mewled. Embarrassment and wild arousal throttled her.
He removed his hand.
“No, please. Don’t stop,” she whispered, even though a desperate exclamation hung on her lips. She didn’t want the neighbors to come out, searching for the screaming woman. Instead, she squirmed and thrust her breasts upward, encouraging his hand to move again. The teasing bastard didn’t budge.
“Okay. Okay. You make my clit throb, heat up with pleasure.”
“Anything else?” He resumed his play.
She sighed. “My muscles twitch inside me.”
“Explain.”
“It’s my mind doing it… I want your cock inside me. And my vagina is responding.”
“You want gentle? Hard?” He kissed the juncture between her neck and shoulder.
“Everything you can give me. Gentle, hard, deep, fast, slow.”
“You see? It wasn’t that difficult.” He nudged the neckline of her top out of his way as he nibbled down to her shoulder. “We’ll continue this experiment later.” He reached her round muscle and suckled her skin deep into his mouth. She would have a love mark in the morning.
He released her abruptly.
“The builder of this place must’ve had inside information.”
What the heck? Arousal came to a screeching halt.
“Wait. What?”
Joe laughed. “It’s called undisciplined stream of consciousness, or lack of mental filter. I hop around from thought to thought without meaning to. I also wanted to slow you down. It’s going to be a long night.”
Holding fast to one nipple, he removed his other hand to point into the distance.
“Check it out. The location of this building was either a genius plan or a stroke of luck. All units face out. Nothing blocks our views of the lake and downtown. Unless the city goes bonkers and decides to construct a tall eyesore on the park grounds, the views will remain as stunning as they are.”
“I see what you mean.” She spoke over her shoulder. “The park extends to the sidewalk. There’s no room. Is that why you bought here?”
“My parents owned it first. They needed a place to stay in sleepy little Orlando,” he murmured against her hair. “Then they passed it on to me.”
“That’s fortunate.”
He didn’t elaborate after her comment, and she didn’t pursue it. Evidently, there was more to the situation with his parents. Maybe he would tell her; maybe he never would.
Leaving that uncomfortable notion behind, she focused on the velvety western sky. The last traces of color had given up the fight and gone deep black. The breeze picked up speed and grew colder. She wiggled, seeking his warmth.
“Hey, you’re shivering.”
Hunter wanted to complain when he released her breast to rub her arms, but yes, she was getting cold.
“Let’s go inside.” He squeezed her arms.
“Aww, I hate giving up this beauty.”
“You won’t.”
She wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he’d already left the balcony. He closed the sliding doors after she stepped into the living room. The temperature warmed up right away. She expected him to draw the shades. Instead, he left the sliders untouched and walked through an archway.
“You’re not hungry, right? How about something to drink?” he called out.
“Some water would be nice.”
“Would you like to take a look in here?”
On the other side of the archway, Joe’s kitchen curved around a dividing wall. He searched inside the refrigerator with a puzzled expression.
“Bubbly or flat?” he asked. “I have both.”
“I like bubbly.” Hunter peeked around him. To her surprise, his fridge was fully stocked. Green bottles lined the top shelf; condiments and several plastic containers occupied door sleeves and lower shelves.
“Wow. You do live here.”
Joe straightened, holding two bottles of water. “Do you need a glass?”
She shook her head, twisting the cap open. “This is good.”
“I’m here on weekends, and you know I enjoy cooking. So…” He took a large swig of his water.
“Your kitchen is beautiful, Joe. A cook’s dream.” Hunter caressed the glossy marble countertops.
“Thank you. I remodeled last year. Let me show you the rest of the place.” He extended his hand out to her. “Units on the eighth floor are the largest in the building.”
She held on to him for guidance as she looked in every direction. “I like the slanted roofline. Adds height and spaciousness.”
“Another benefit of being on the top floor. Lower units don’t have it.” He flipped a wall switch. Two sets of descending track lights illuminated the living room, a central fireplace, and two hallways—one on each side of the room—she hadn’t seen yet.
“Nice leather sofas. I like your taste in furniture. Do you ever use the fireplace?”
“Mmm, thank you again. It’s gas, better for effect than warmth. This way.” He led her to the hallway on the right. He opened the closed door and turned on a new set of lights, revealing a bedroom—a man’s bedroom, judging by the spartan décor.
Releasing his hand, Hunter ambled about. “Is this the master? She caressed one of
the smooth posts framing the stately bed. “Seems a bit small. I mean, it’s elegant like you, but…” She made an apologetic face.
“You have a thing for touching, don’t you? Interesting detail.” Leaning against the doorframe, Joe smiled. “I appreciate the compliment. The next room will explain better.” He reached out to her again.
“I guess there’s more,” she murmured, holding on to him.
Joe retraced his steps across the living room, then turned left on the opposite hallway. Releasing her hand, he opened the door at the end, held up his palm signaling Hunter to enter, and moved aside.
She stood at the threshold. Her breath rushed out in sensory overload. A double set of floor-to-ceiling glass doors, wrapping around the southeast corner, brought the spectacle of Orlando at night inside the room. The scent of leather and a fragrant botanical she didn’t recognize assaulted her nostrils. She could see, and yet she couldn’t find a single lamp or overhead light. She walked to the center of the room and did a complete turn, assimilating everything she saw. First, she found the source of light. A soft amber glow—imitating candlelight—washed upward from beneath the floorboards. The next item was a massive mirror set within a gilded baroque frame, leaning against one wall. A handsome armoire occupied the opposite wall. Assorted unfamiliar leather pieces were situated in a random pattern on a polished hardwood floor. One item struck her the most: a lovely and quite feminine fuchsia settee bench, upholstered in tufted velvet.
“Oh, Joe. I’ve never seen anything like this room before.”
Arms crossed, he watched her roam about, his demeanor serious, intent. Her tummy filled with anxious butterflies.
“It’s beautiful.” She hoped her compliment would get a response from him. His sudden silence unnerved her.
He nodded. “The exploration of all human pleasures, mind, soul, and flesh must occur in beauty and tranquility. If any element is missing, the search fails. This is my haven.”
“So you sacrificed sleeping space in favor of inspiration.” She slowly approached him.
“I’m glad you understand.” He manacled her wrist. “That’s it. I’ve shown you. We’re done here.” He tugged and turned.
Hunter resisted the pull, risking his irritation. She wasn’t ready to leave. The room charmed her in some mysterious way, and she wanted to see more, to touch, feel, sip a glass of wine on the settee. “Done? I don’t understand.”
Joe paused midstep. “What you see in here, all these pieces”—he waved his hand, indicating the full expanse of the room—“were chosen or built with great care and for very specific reasons. The majority are functional. Others enhance the ambiance and view. I’ll invite you back after we discuss matters and you’re in agreement. If you’re not…” He shrugged. “We’ll still have a nice weekend.”
As she listened, she envisioned all possible functions of the strange items she’d seen. Her lack of exposure limited her imagination. Still, she had a creative mind, and right now, it was a team of galloping horses.
“When…?” She crushed her eyes closed. Impatience and curiosity were getting the best of her.
He chuckled. “Someone’s ready to explore.”
“You’ve no idea.” She blushed.
“So what did it?” He laughed harder. “Something spoke to you in there.”
“Three somethings.” She grinned. “The mirror, the armoire, and that amazingly decadent settee bench. For a brief moment, I was a French courtesan in her boudoir.”
“Excellent. I can make that happen.”
When? she almost yelled out.
Amazing how the changes in her left her reeling. She’d gone from a twisted, sex-hating hermit to a brazen, uninhibited hussy. Whatever Joe gave her, she’d happily devour.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JOE CLOSED THE door of his playroom, feeling Hunter’s eyes on his back. He didn’t have to read minds to know she had a million questions—she was a newbie in the life. Taking the lead to the living room, he let her stew on those thoughts until their pending discussion began.
He’d gone out on a limb, showing her his specialized benches and equipment outright. Her response could have been rejection or acceptance. Her positive reaction had pleased him more than he’d anticipated. And that comment about a French courtesan…? Damn.
“Make yourself comfortable, gorgeous. How’s the water? Want something else?”
“I’m good. Got plenty still.” Hunter waved her bottle. She plopped down mid-sofa, directly in front of the fireplace. In the style he now recognized as typically hers, she rubbed—more like caressed—the leather with her palm. “So soft.”
Struggling with a sudden storm of thoughts, Joe walked to the console table where he’d left her overnight tote. After taking the brownies out, he lifted her bag. “I can take this to my bedroom, or to the guest bedroom. Your choice.”
“I don’t understand.” She stopped drinking. “The guest bedroom?”
“Yeah, I haven’t shown you that one yet. It’s through the bathroom. Nothing too impressive.”
“But, why would you…?”
Joe inhaled and sat on the corner of the sofa. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he played with the tote’s handles between his fingers. He couldn’t delay this any longer.
He was a nervous wreck. Where had that come from? This anxiety, so unlike him, was ill-timed and disconcerting.
The conversation should be simple and easy. He’d put the agreement together when he joined the lifestyle and learned the right way of doing things. With slight variations, he’d repeated the speech to his previous subs. Most had accepted all his terms, some only half, and a scant few not a one.
Joe had sent the last group of ladies on their merry way with a Nice knowing you.
Tonight felt different, important.
So much was riding on this moment.
Like what?
Happiness.
Seriously?
Hunter’s attention was riveted on him. She waited for him to go on, her emerald gaze clear and steady, her luscious lips partly open.
What a jerk. Who’s the newbie?
Bottom line, he wanted to entice her, not scare her away. He desired her enthusiastic participation. If she rejected his terms… A burning hole opened in his gut. Acid filled his mouth.
Get your shit together. Such idiotic nonsense. You have a purpose here.
“So.” He eyed her from his hunched position. “In St. Cloud, we talked about my chosen lifestyle. I’m a sexual dominant, and I’m certain you’re a submissive. We played. You had a little taste. We also talked about STDs.”
Hunter nodded. “Got a clean bill of health.”
“Thank you. Would you like to see mine?”
She shook her head. “It’s not necessary. I believe you. You started this, after all.”
“Good. We’re free to proceed without barriers between us.”
She took a sip of her water and remained silent.
“We have an unbreakable rule in the life. You could say it’s sacred. And that’s consent. Everything, I mean every damned thing we do, must be consensual. No consent, no play.”
“You did mention that. I remember.” Hunter shifted her position. She wiggled her sandal off and crossed her ankle under her thigh so that she faced him instead of the fireplace. A gleaming auburn tress fell over her shoulder. She played with the ends absently. Joe breathed easier. Hunter had no idea how telling that position shift was for him.
“I could enumerate for you a list of activities to check as acceptable, or cross out as being hard limits.” He dropped her tote at the edge of the sofa. He kicked his shoes off, getting comfortable. Leaning back, he slipped his arm over the backrest, facing her as well.
“The thing is, you’re new at this. If I mention water sports or fire play, it’s quite possible you won’t know what the hell I’m talking about. Am I right?”
Her eyes grew larger as he explained. Strangely enough, he didn’t pick up apprehension or fear from her. He n
oticed curiosity instead—more good news.
“Yes,” she murmured.
“It would be unfair to ask you about said practices. However, sensual pain excites you. It’s obvious to me, and you’ve expressed it verbally. The intensity is another matter. I’ll test and push your tolerance, using several implements. I will restrain, blindfold, and possibly muzzle you, or other methods along that line. I will fuck you in creative ways. I’ll use toys, and you will come when I allow you. My orders. My rules. Are you okay with this?”
She raised her thumb.
“Uh.” He scratched his cropped beard, trying not to laugh. “Let’s talk safewords. What taste turns you off the most?”
“Mmm…bitter. Yes.” She nodded. “Anything bitter.”
“Excellent. And sweets? Your adored brownies are a favorite.”
“Yum. Of course.” She grinned.
“Okay.” He grasped her fingers. “Whenever we engage in play, I’ll ask how you’re feeling from beginning to end. Hunter, this is important: you will answer me with your safewords, and you will be truthful. Bitter stops everything, yellow means slow down, sweet means continue. Is that clear?” He eyed her, waiting for her response.
She blinked. Her lips moved, but not a sound came out.
He frowned. “Hunter, this is a bad start. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Sweet, Sir. That is…bitter stops what we’re doing, yellow is hold a second, and sweet means we’re having fun.”
He laughed, standing up. “Follow me. Showing works better than telling.”
Hunter applauded and jumped to her feet. “Are we going back to your pretty room?”
“We are.”
Her happy tone warmed his heart and soothed his tension. The acid in his gut receded. She might be the enthusiastic partner he’d hoped for.
“Go ahead,” he murmured at the door. “Feel your way. Explore.”
She walked slowly around the equipment, stopped next to a spanking bench, touched it and pushed down lightly, examining the leatherette padding, then moved on to the next.
“You can ask me anything. But it must be in dominant-submissive mode.”
Deception Page 20
