by Audra North
She hadn’t been trying to touch him so intimately. She was only trying to unbutton his jeans and pull them down his hips a bit so they wouldn’t get oil all over them when she massaged lower. But somehow, he had shifted, so his big, hard cock had ended up pushing into her hand, and then he had panicked, and that had made her panic, and everything went to hell after that.
Had she reached too far? Wanted too much? It wouldn’t be the first time she let herself get carried away by her imagination, but somehow, it felt like the worst kind of rejection.
This must have been one of the things that Mistress Michelle had been talking about when she’d said Dommes have to own their role. Something that Beatrice had tried to do tonight, and thought she’d executed pretty well up until the end. Still. Watching a few online videos and reading up on being a Domme was very different from actually doing it. Maybe she’d messed it up to the point of no repair.
She sighed. She heard the toilet flush, then the water running, and the door swung open. Warren emerged, looking haggard, and stopped short when he saw her on the bed, as though he’d forgotten where he was for a moment.
He couldn’t meet her eyes. No. Don’t pull away, she thought, and suddenly she was seventeen years old again, sitting and working on homework with a boy from school at the Latte e Miele coffee shop when Mother had walked in and found them.
Ten minutes later, she had been in the car next to her mother, driving away from the coffee shop and a boy she wasn’t supposed to be studying with.
But it had never occurred to her to stand up for what she did want—until a month later, when her parents had told her she would go to a college of their choosing or they wouldn’t pay for it at all.
A moment ago with Warren, she had liked being in control. Yes, it had felt a little uncomfortable at first, but now… How could she go back to the old Beatrice? She’d thought she’d been so brave, leaving home that first time, but that was nothing compared to this.
“Hey.” She echoed her earlier greeting, and Warren still wouldn’t look in her direction, but at least he managed not to scowl at her.
“Hey.” He wasn’t short with her, but something in that single word made her panic, thinking he was about to flee and she would never see him again, not even at Ben and Nina’s. She thought about what Mistress Michelle told her. We issue commands as though it is a foregone conclusion they will be followed.
Own your role. Own your life.
She didn’t want him to go. She wanted to practice pleasing him until she had it perfect.
Beatrice gathered up every last ounce of courage she had and unfolded her legs in front of her, straightening her spine and looking him in the eye. She rubbed the blanket on the bed, in the space between her legs. “Come sit here.”
Warren gave her a strange look, but after a moment, he walked to the bed slowly, as though he were approaching a half-starved lion while holding a bloody steak. But she didn’t break eye contact, no matter how much she wanted to, and after what felt like an eternity, he finally slid his body between her legs, angling himself sideways so he was half leaning over her.
Oh, thank God.
She wanted to cheer. Instead, she grabbed his waist and turned him away from her, putting his back to her chest, then pulled him backward like he was a marionette and not over six feet of hard-muscled man…which meant he had to be helping her.
He was helping. Compliant.
He wanted this.
The thought gave her even more confidence.
“Lean on me,” she told him, and this time she didn’t even have to bite back a please.
He did as he was ordered, that broad back pinning her to the headboard of her own bed. She lifted her knees and braced her feet on the bed beside his hips, trying to take his weight without suffocating in the process. Better. So much better.
Until he lifted his arms and rested his hands on her shins and she couldn’t breathe, anyway, from the sheer heady rush of feeling that ripped through her when he touched her. He must have felt her breathing speed up, because his back went rigid and he pulled away from her. “I forgot I’m not supposed to touch you.”
Did you also forget I just had your cock in my hand?
But she didn’t say that. It was obviously an accident, and he was obviously not going to talk about it with her. So instead, she gave a soft laugh. “It’s a minute past eight o’clock. Technically, you’re not paying me anymore. No more role-playing, I mean. Lean back.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, as if he were debating whether he should do as she told or simply get up and leave, but she must have sparked something in him that made him want to continue obeying, because after a little bit, he eased back against her.
She wrapped her arms around his chest and prayed he wouldn’t stiffen up again and try to leave. “You didn’t use the safeword, before.”
It was a statement, but he heard the question in it. She could feel the vibration of his voice through his back, sensitizing her breasts even through the leather of her bustier.
“I didn’t need to.”
Several of the things she’d read, including Mistress Michelle’s book, had said that a Domme needed to trust her sub to use the safeword when it was necessary, to know and express their own limits. Still, it felt strange. After so many years of watching her parents’ faces for any sign of displeasure and running to counter it immediately, before they even said a word, simply accepting Warren’s abrupt departure from the bed earlier felt like it took every ounce of restraint she possessed.
“But you forgot that you should not do anything unless I order you to do it.” She was trying hard to get back the role she’d slipped into at the beginning.
His back tensed. “I would have ruined your sheets.”
The confirmation he had climaxed earlier made her light-headed. Now all she could think of was that strong body in the small space of her bathroom, muscles tensing and jerking as he came. Oh dear. She had to swallow hard before she could speak again. “No, you wouldn’t have.”
She’d meant it would have been worth the mess to watch him in the throes of an orgasm, but he laughed. “I don’t think even you could have commanded me to hold that one off.”
Even you? Did he really see her as that powerful? She’d felt it, but it had been fleeting, that sense of mastery. But if he’d thought she’d done it well enough…
She must have been silent for too long, because he spoke again, this time completely changing the subject.
“Have you ever been to Italy?” Warren’s hands were rubbing up and down her legs now, almost unconsciously, but the measured strokes were still making heat gather between her legs. It felt so good to be touched like that. She forced herself, though, to concentrate on what he’d asked.
“No. I’ve always wanted to go, though. I learned Italian in college because one of my jobs was in an Italian restaurant and the waitstaff was made up primarily of twenty-something boys from Italy. They taught me all the dirty words first, of course, but eventually I picked up other stuff too.” She didn’t add that her other job had been as the assistant in a photography studio, but she’d had to quit because the owner was the first man she’d ever slept with, and it hadn’t turned out well.
Instead, she’d found a position at the help desk on campus and managed to scrape by. Her parents had stayed true to their word not to pay for her to go to a college of her choice, but they’d called from time to time, and they even came to her graduation. It wasn’t like they hated her, even if sometimes it felt that way. It was more that they didn’t understand. And they definitely didn’t approve. Now, they called a couple of times a year, made stilted small talk and avoided any questions that might yield answers they wouldn’t like.
But Warren didn’t need to know any of that. There was nothing worse than watching someone’s face change from interest to pity in the blink of an eye.
> He shifted on the mattress. “I always wanted to go to Italy. My mom is Italian. Well, Italian blood, anyway.” He sighed.
There was a lot behind that sigh.
“Why haven’t you ever gone?” she asked, unable to stop herself from running her hands up and down his muscled arms.
“Obligations,” was all he said, and she was trying to figure out how to respond to that when he spoke again.
“It’s not just Italy. I’ve always wanted to go all over the place. Even when I was ten years old, I remember wanting to get the hell out of Greenbriar and see the world. But we didn’t have a lot of money, and I knew the only way I was going to go anywhere was if I enlisted in the Army. I figured I’d become a military policeman, since my dad was a cop and his dad was a cop and, well, you get the picture. All the way back to the first Warren Davis, we’ve been cops. But I wanted something at least a little different. Something bigger, I guess.”
She nodded. She definitely understood that feeling.
He took a deep breath. “But then, my senior year of high school, Kelly got pregnant, and that was it. No Italy, no Army.” He shrugged, and his back muscles flexed against her breasts. “Things are better now for her and Nate’s a great kid, but last week Kelly started classes for a college degree that I’m helping to pay for. I’ve also got to be at home for Nate when Kelly has to study and stuff, so Italy will have to wait for another few years, at least.”
So much responsibility. He did everything Michelle had described when she talked about the expectations placed on men. Doling out advice and justice, having to hide their softer feelings, paying the bills and feeding a family. Everything her family had expected her to look for in a husband and do none of herself. Beatrice couldn’t resist smoothing a hand over his chest, and she heard him suck in a sharp breath.
The feeling of wiry hair under her fingers made her wonder whether it would tickle her lips if she kissed him there. She got so lost in the fantasy his next words surprised her more for the damper they put on her arousal than for the question itself.
“Why do you need this money?”
There was no judgment in his voice, but she could imagine what he must think. A girl who didn’t even ask what a deal like this would involve before she’d so recklessly offered herself, and who dressed up in revealing clothes for a man in exchange for money?
She’d grown up more or less middle-class, with a few tighter years here and there, but it had been a step up from the way Mother had grown up. Mother’s mother—Nana—lived in the same, run-down home where her mother had grown up. Nana wasn’t like Mother at all. Nana had been a single mom, and from everything Nana had told Beatrice, Mother had rebelled against that by marrying a very conservative man and cleaving to beliefs that were old-fashioned and stifling.
Mother talked to Nana about as often as Mother talked to Beatrice.
Usually, Beatrice didn’t share that information with anyone. It was too humiliating to be disliked by one’s own parents.
But with Warren, it was different. She wanted him to know her.
“My grandmother was diagnosed with nerve sheath tumors a few years ago. They did radiation and chemo and it worked—she’s in remission. But it weakened her legs to the point where she had to start using a wheelchair and couldn’t work anymore. Last year, her doctor told her she needed another PET scan, but she’d been in remission for so long that insurance deemed it unnecessary and slapped her with a seven-thousand-dollar bill. I’ve been helping her to pay it down, but the last thousand dollars has taken longer than I expected.”
She held her breath, waiting for him to ask the next question, wanting to know why her parents weren’t helping out. Being the kind of man who had sacrificed so much for his own family, he was probably wondering why Beatrice’s could be so selfish.
Maybe they might have helped, if they’d known. But Nana was too proud and still too hurt by Mother’s rejection to tell her.
But Warren surprised her. Instead of criticizing her fractured family, he ran his hands down to her ankles and squeezed gently. “I know how that goes.”
Yes, she thought. Of course. He did know what it was like, but he wasn’t vocal about it. At all. He’d never said a negative word about his family, at least not publicly enough that she would have heard about it. He might not be the friendliest guy, but he was respectful. That was one of the reasons why she had come to respect him so much over the past year. Even if he never did anything except scowl at her.
Except for tonight. Tonight, his face had softened. He’d looked at her with appreciation and desire, even if he had also shown confusion and a little shock.
It made her want to tell him more. About her dream of someday being an artist, of having her work displayed on its own, with no accompanying reporter’s byline, or facing a full-page ad for a Labor Day sale at the department store. She wanted to tell him how she was worried she’d never reach that dream.
But she stayed silent. That wasn’t why he was there.
A moment later, he took a deep breath and pulled away, throwing his legs off the bed and standing up before he turned to say, “I’d better get going.” He strode over to the couch, scooped up his shirt and pulled it on, then stepped into his shoes.
She slid off the bed and followed him to the door. He opened it and was about to walk out when, on impulse, she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Next week.” He smiled, and her knees buckled a little. God, he was handsome. And now that she’d actually talked to him, held him…for the first time, she wondered whether these five weeks wouldn’t end up costing her more than he was paying her.
Chapter Seven
On Thursday evening, Warren pulled his cruiser into the driveway at home after a long day of too many difficult arrests and a mound of paperwork. A routine traffic stop half an hour before his shift was over had turned into a full search, which meant he was late getting home and Mom had already left for her night shift at the hospital. He would be the one to field Nate’s and Dad’s needs until bedtime, even though right now, all he could think about was getting out of his uniform and into something comfortable. Comforting.
Like Beatrice.
Last night had been so good he’d had to fight the urge to call her up this afternoon—after Horowitz had called him over to help pin down that raging, bug-eyed meth head so they could get his prints—and beg her to let him come over again tonight.
Wouldn’t that be humiliating.
Not that he would have actually done it. He had other responsibilities that kept him from considering it too seriously. But he wasn’t sure whether he should be grateful or resentful that he’d promised Kelly he’d fix the loose drawer on her dresser this evening while she was in class.
He could have said no. He should have said no. Half the time he didn’t have to say yes, in fact, and that would certainly make his life a lot easier. But it was hard to turn down a request for help from his own family. They were all he had. The only ones he could count on if he was ever down. His shitty experience with Jen had proven that.
He’d fix the damned drawer.
But when he walked into the house, Kelly was there, standing at the kitchen island, chopping carrots, while Dad and Nathan were sitting at the table. He stopped for a second, confused. Why wasn’t she at her class? It had already started half an hour ago.
“Welcome home, son,” Dad called out, and Warren returned the greeting with a nod.
“Where were you last night?” Kelly asked.
“Hello to you too, Kel,” he grumbled. He could already feel that all-too-familiar tension rising in his body.
She puffed out an exasperated breath. “Cut me some slack, okay? I’ve had a rough day.”
Fine. He didn’t doubt for a second that she’d had a hard day too. At only twenty-nine years old, his little sister had been dealt her f
air share of hard knocks from life. He could see it in the lines around her eyes, the gray strands already appearing in her dark hair and the sag to her shoulders. Being on her feet all day in her waitressing job was exhausting, and a single mom on top of that…it wasn’t easy, he knew.
But was it really so much to ask for a little care for himself?
Warren scowled. He immediately hated himself for thinking such a thing, for whining about the life he’d dealt with for years already without complaint. One night with Beatrice and he’d turned into a needy baby.
And yet he wouldn’t trade last night for anything. Not even a trip to Italy.
“I found guns in the trunk of a guy’s car after he ran a stop sign and he confessed that he was selling them to middle school kids. Why aren’t you at class?”
Kelly paused in her work and blinked at him. Fuck. He hadn’t wanted to be an asshole…
No, no excuses. He shouldn’t have been, even if she was pissing him off. But before he could apologize, she looked down at the cutting board and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Dropped out.”
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
How much had he shelled out for that course? And she’d dropped out?
But before he could follow up on that comment, Nate piped up. “Hey, Uncle Quinn!”
Shit. He’d already forgotten about the kid. Getting on Kelly’s case would have to wait. No way would Warren criticize his sister in front of her own son.
He walked over to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Hey, tough guy. What are you working on?”
“Fractions.”
He looked over Nathan’s shoulder. Good God, the kid was terrible at math. Kelly hadn’t stayed in school long enough to learn much more than Nathan. It had taken her a while to finally get her GED and apply for the adult degree program…and now she’d dropped out again.
Which meant it was up to him. “Looks like you have a couple of answers that might need some fixing up. Why don’t I change and then come check your work?”
