Bound With Pearls

by Bristol, Sidney

  “I think you’re lying.” He straightened, his gaze dangerous and dark.

  “No.” She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. “No Sir.”

  His body tensed. Tilting his head toward her, he spoke slowly. “You’re telling me no?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” How had everything gone from desperate hunger to this mess? She reached for him.

  Catching her wrist, he twisted her arm around behind her back. “Now you’re saying I’m lying?”

  The venom in his voice stung worse than the pressure-pain in her shoulder. “No.” She sobbed, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. How was it she could screw up something so easily?

  Chapter Six

  “No?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “Are you?” He applied more pressure to her arm and the first pinpricks of pain stabbed her shoulder.

  “Yes, I am, Sir.” She blinked rapidly to clear moisture from her eyes.

  Daniel released her and she hunched over. She could make out only his shape through the onslaught of tears. She didn’t know why it mattered that she please him, but it did.

  Hands cupped her cheeks and thumbs swiped below her eyes.

  “Shh.” His breath was a warm puff of air against her face. He still smelled of the after-dinner mints they’d eaten instead of dessert. Lips brushed over hers, her cheek and forehead.

  She pushed her arms under his jacket and hugged him. Letting him go wasn’t an option. She wanted to explore this thing between them no matter what. She pressed her lips to his. Miraculously, he kissed her back, keeping the touch sweet but brief.

  “Christine.” The edge was gone from his voice but it was still stern. Stern she could take. Disappointment she could not. “I’m going to punish you for focusing on those people instead of me, and then I’m going to fuck your pussy.”

  She shivered and peeked up at him through her lashes. Anticipation had her creaming her panties all over again.

  He slapped her hip lightly. “Turn around.”

  Unwinding her arms, she turned in place and put her hands on the table. The metal was warm where she’d been sitting. Her shoes were starting to pinch her toes and the zipper of her dress was digging into her from the awkward way it gaped open, still hanging on her hips.

  She watched him over her shoulder. Everything else fell away. The world shrank to the two of them. It might have had something to do with the way his gaze ate her up. He loomed behind her, big and imposing. She could understand why her sister thought he was scary. If she hadn’t seen the way he smiled or the calm, controlled Dom, she might be afraid. But she wasn’t. She was turned-on. He laughed with her and pestered her about being safe. He was the most important thing in that moment.

  He leaned forward, placing his hands over hers, and bit her earlobe. “You’re going to watch those people watching us. You know why they’re staring?”

  The breath caught in her throat. She’d forgotten about their audience. Wetting her lips, she shook her head. “No Sir.”

  He cupped her breast through the strapless bra. The touch was still gentle. He hadn’t forgotten about the bruises. She hadn’t minded the bruises, would gladly take more if he decided he liked them, but his fierce, proprietary behavior about her well-being was touching. She felt precious, cared for and desired. It was a new point between them. Sure, she’d wanted the Dominant she’d met in the dungeon, but now she wanted the man as well.

  “They’re wondering who the beautiful woman I’ve brought with me is. They saw us arrive. They know my cock is hard for you.”

  Protests died on her lips when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties. The panties she’d bought to match the new bra. Hell, she’d bought a whole new outfit for today, and now all she was wearing were the heels, her bra and the necklace he hated. He removed her dress and panties, tossing them on the table in front of her.

  “Face forward.”

  Turning to the crowd, she let her eyes drift, roaming over scenes in play and the onlookers. Anytime she caught gazes directed toward her she looked somewhere else.

  The first blow to her backside took her by surprise. The force shoved her hips forward, hitting the edge of the table. Daniel didn’t stop to smooth over the hurt, though he did place a steadying hand on her hip before delivering another blow to her other cheek.

  She rocked forward on her toes, grunting as another blow landed on her ass. There were too many components, too many factors to focus on so she didn’t focus on any one. She allowed her mind to go blank, welcoming the warm cocoon of subspace, the wondrous place that reduced life to sensation and reaction.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head as light blows rained down above and below her ass, teasing her. Moans escaped her lips and she splayed her hands as far as her fingers would go. She knew people were watching. She could feel their gaze, the curiosity, the jealous stares and aroused watchers. She hadn’t forgotten them, but they were secondary. They didn’t matter.

  Daniel spun her around and lifted her burning ass onto the table. She hissed at the sensation of the cool metal against her hot flesh. She watched, body trembling, as he dug a condom out of his pocket and suited up. She spread her legs when he stepped closer. He gripped her knees, holding her open and leaning toward her.

  “Put my cock inside you.”

  His voice sent shivers down her spine. She didn’t hesitate. Wrapping her hand around his shaft, she took a moment to caress him, feeling the hard length swell in her grasp. Guiding him to her entrance, she passed the head through her folds, using her honey to coat him. She was soaked from the prolonged state of arousal.

  “Christine,” he growled.

  She rolled her hips forward, taking the head of his penis into her. She could feel every ridge, the way he touched all of her nerve endings. He groaned, his breath fanning her hair. His hold on her knees tightened as he thrust. They moaned together on his second thrust, which slid him deeper into her pussy.

  “Oh, fuck yes,” she muttered. Prying her eyes open, she watched him and tracked his gaze down to where their bodies were finally joined.

  “Yeah.”

  He let go of her knees, his hands skating over her skin to her hips. He gripped her ass and pulled her forward, impaling her on the last of his length. Her legs curled around him, holding him there while her inner walls spasmed. She almost climaxed from that alone. Scrabbling to hold off, she concentrated on doing dishes and cleaning the toilet, anything to wait for him.

  Daniel withdrew almost the entire length of his cock, then plunged back in. The friction against her clit had her eyes rolling in her head. She clenched her legs around him, holding him there to savor the moment. He gripped her hips and pistoned back into her body, over and over again.

  He stared at her, their gazes fastening as if they were buckles clicking into place. She found herself breathing in time with him, digging her heels into his ass to bring him back into her rougher than before.

  A vein protruded on his forehead. He slid one hand down from her hip and pressed his thumb roughly over her clit in time to his thrusts. Her will to hold out shattered.

  Coming wasn’t a question. She went over in an explosion of sensation, bursts of color behind her eyelids and curling her toes. Still Daniel didn’t stop his assault of her body. His thrusts became harder, deeper, forcing her back on her forearms as his control slipped. She could hear herself sobbing and moaning and she didn’t care.

  She pried her eyes open, her mouth frozen on another moan when his body went taut. He slapped his hands on the table on either side of her and his back bowed. She watched his face as his climax slammed through him. She could feel the twitch of his cock deep within her. The sensation of his ejaculation sent little fireworks of sensation through her pussy. As his body went slack, she reached up and pulled him down to cover her.

  Holy hell, she wanted to do that again.

  Daniel traced part of the tattoo fanning over her shoulder. She curled into him, r
esting a hand on his lower back. Her response to even his subtle cues was amazing. He didn’t know who had trained her to begin with, but someone had groomed her perfectly. Or maybe she was a natural. He hadn’t figured it out yet, but he wanted to.

  He gently untangled their limbs, pausing every few moments to kiss or caress Chris. She had the blissed-out expression of someone who’d hit subspace. He searched for her discarded clothing and helped her redress. Neither spoke, and they didn’t need to. Words would cheapen the magic happening between them.

  They strolled around the edges of the public dungeon and into the common area. Bodies writhed on the dance floor and groups clustered around tables.

  He didn’t want leave the club yet. It was a weeknight and, though he could get up whenever he felt like it, he would need to take Christine home. If he were honest with himself, he wanted to show her off. The few subs he’d entertained the idea of collaring had been play partners only. She was an entirely different creature.

  As if she felt his thoughts, she glanced at him. Her height coupled with the lift of her heels had her at eye level. Not a very submissive posture, but between them there was no doubt who was in control.

  Catching sight of two of his favorite people, he steered her to the booth where Bianca and Clay reclined.

  “Hello, Ma’am. May we?” He gestured to the unoccupied bench.

  Bianca peered past him and straight to Christine. Her eyes lit with avid interest. “Of course.” Her gaze drifted back to him as a smile spread across her lips.

  Clay sat on the floor, his head against her knee. Bianca ran her fingers absently through his hair, which he seemed to be enjoying. A gold chain ran from his nipple clamps and coiled around Bianca’s wrist. They were already putting his gift to good use.

  “Thank you,” he replied, settling on the bench. Christine stood, her eyes focused somewhere between the floor and his knee. She never failed to surprise him. He realized if he told her to mirror Clay’s pose, she would. In that moment, he could have fucked her all over again as a thank you. Instead, he patted the cushion next to him.

  She sat, hands folded primly in her lap and her gaze cast down. Her cheeks were tinged a faint pink most might mistake for makeup, but he knew the truth. She’d pushed past a barrier when he’d insisted on public play. He was proud of her, and it might be silly but he wanted everyone to know she was here with him. The crowd might not comprehend what had happened, but the energy between them was undeniable.

  “Who is this?” Bianca asked, though the minx had a good idea.

  Still, he wasn’t above showing her off. He smoothed her wild hair behind her ear. “This is Christine. Christine, say hello to my friends, Mistress Bianca and her husband, Clay.”

  Christine lifted her chin, a slight smile curling her lips. “Hello, Mistress Bianca, Clay.”

  “She’s exquisite, Daniel.” Bianca tugged on Clay’s hair. “Are you sharing?”

  His hand, which had been stroking Christine’s hair, closed around the nape of her neck. His response was immediate, visceral. He’d break the arms of whatever person tried to touch her. His answer came out low and rough. “No.”

  Bianca’s reply of “Pity” was drowned out by his revelation that he was thinking of Christine as his. He’d begun tonight as an endeavor to see if they were compatible, and now he knew they were combustible in all the right ways. The jewelry sitting on his workbench took on a whole new importance.

  Christine studied him from the corner of her eye, and what he wouldn’t have given for a private room. He couldn’t read the nuances in her gaze, but the slight relaxation of her shoulders, the way she leaned her body against his, those were signs he could understand. They’d reached a point that transcended the casual. She might not know it yet, but he owned her, and he embraced the idea.

  “Your loss,” he agreed. He applied pressure to her neck, pulling her against his side. She kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck, turning her body toward him.

  “Are you staying for the demonstrations tonight?”

  “Demonstrations?” He shrugged. “Probably not.”

  “She’s rather well mannered.”

  Oh, Bianca was dying to ask questions, he knew how nosy she was. He hid his smile in Chris’ hair. “She is, isn’t she? Where did you learn such good manners, hm?”

  She peeked up at him, her cheeks still pink, probably a little uncomfortable as the focus of attention. “I went through discipline training with Master Brandon Halsted, Sir.”

  “Really? I’ve heard of him.” Bianca leaned forward.

  “Should I know him?” Daniel asked.

  Bianca shook her head. “He moved.”

  Chris had mentioned this Master Brandon before. He couldn’t decide if he owed the man a drink for teaching her or a fist for touching her. But hadn’t she said their relationship wasn’t a sexual one?

  It was distracting to try to carry on a coherent conversation with Bianca while Christine’s curves were so accessible. As much as he enjoyed his friend’s conversation, his heart wasn’t in it. His mind was racing a mile a minute. If he could do what he’d done with the inspiration from Christine’s tattoo, could he do that again? A concept for a new collection was solidifying in his head, adding yet another thing pulling him in a different direction.

  Christine’s supple body stiffened. Her head rose from his shoulder and she glanced at something behind them. He turned to see what had captured her attention.

  Lucy and her boyfriend were at a larger table, with a crowd. She stood on top of the table in a skimpy outfit, wiggling her ass as if that were how she made her money.

  He pitched his voice low. “She’s not supposed to be here, is she?”

  Her lips were compressed into a tight line. She shook her head. “No.”

  “What’s wrong?” Bianca asked, never one to be left out.

  He couldn’t say he was surprised by Lucy’s deception. Christine had mentioned her sister’s trip over dinner. He was disappointed for her sake. She shrugged and laid her head back on his shoulder, curling tightly to his side. She wrapped her arm around his waist, gripping his belt. Putting a hand over hers, he squeezed.

  “Lucy and Nathan are supposedly out of town,” he said, keeping his voice even.

  Bianca’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

  Lucy’s voice had a distinct, high-pitched quality. It cut through the din of club noise. He forced his grip on Christine’s hand to loosen. He’d like to have a conversation with Nathan, illuminate the finer points of maturity the man seemed to lack, but in this situation it wasn’t his place. He wasn’t Christine’s Dom. Yet. It wasn’t his right to interfere in her deal, but he wanted to. It was a tricky situation. Since she’d made the agreement with her sister before he was in the picture he didn’t want to intrude. If he were her Dom, if she wore his collar, this mess would not have happened.

  Lowering his voice, he asked, “Do you want to leave?”

  “I don’t want to make you leave,” she mumbled.

  Patting her hand, he glanced up at Bianca. “If you’ll excuse us, I think it’s time we went home.”

  “Of course,” Bianca said, rising as they stood.

  He ducked his head, pressing a kiss to the shorter woman’s cheek. He knew she was dying to ask him questions but was too polite to ask him here.

  “I’ll call you,” he said by way of an apology. He’d want to consult someone else about his growing infatuation before he did anything rash.

  “Christine,” Bianca said, turning to take one of her hands. “It was lovely to meet you. Don’t be a stranger.”

  Aware every moment they spent around Lucy and Nathan was one more chance for an unwanted confrontation, he steered Christine toward the door. This time he nodded to those he recognized but declined the unspoken invitations. He was not unaware of the interested stares, but he didn’t share, and he wasn’t about to let her go yet.

  The temperature outside was much colder. She wrapped her wool coat around
her and hunched her shoulders. Every few steps she glanced at him.

  “We didn’t have to leave because of Lucy.”

  He turned her back to the car and gently pushed her against it. Her hands flattened against his chest under the lapels of his jacket.

  “It wasn’t worth putting up with your sister’s shit or making a scene, was it?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Get in the car.”

  He helped her in and circled the car. It didn’t take a genius to know she was upset. There were some problems in the world a man couldn’t fix, and he was smart enough to know this situation needed more than a Band-Aid. The problems between Christine and Lucy ran deep.

  Glancing at her as he drove, he realized at some point he’d forgotten the relationship between the sisters. Lucy had faded from his memory. While he didn’t think they were anything alike, reminding himself of it helped to cool some of his caveman urges. Before he bought into this one, he needed to be sure she wasn’t hiding something from him. As much as he hated to deny himself this most intriguing woman, he needed to try her out a bit longer. Assure himself she wasn’t hiding an inner Lucy.

  He dropped her off without anything more than a long kiss and went home alone. Not that he wanted to. Everything told him to go back and claim her as his, but he erred on the side of caution. This time.

  Chapter Seven

  Christine was ready to get out of the office. She was glad it was Friday, but even more so that the bruises on her ass were fading. Sitting at her desk for extended periods of time was somewhat uncomfortable. But that was the price she paid for spending time with Daniel. The thought of him had her reaching for her phone to check the latest text. As a rule, she never looked at the messages when they came in. Instead, she waited a few minutes, savoring the anticipation before relieving her curiosity and replying.

  Daniel was the bright spot of her week. She felt like a kid again, fluttery stomach and all. Even a stern conversation with Ginny hadn’t grounded her wayward hormones. She was quite frankly twitter-pated.