As soon as they arrived at her building Stephanie went ahead to change and start dinner while he collected Jake. Mr. McTavish met him at the door, looking anxious. Jake paced on his toes, conveying a clear message that all was not well. Dace pinned the landlord with a stare. “What’s going on?”
“A lady who said she’s Stephanie’s sister came by. She looks just like her, so I let her in to wait. Then I wondered if I should have because Jake didn’t like her. And she was kind of hoity toity.”
Fuck. Dace nearly ran through the door, Jake at his heels. He took the stairs two at a time and thundered down the hall, pulling up to a sedate walk a door away from Stephanie’s apartment, composing himself. He pulled the key she’d given him out of his pocket and opened the lock. Two nearly identical faces turned his way, but that was where the similarity ended.
Sophie was poured into designer jeans and a low-cut linen top, her purchased cleavage swelling to draw the eye. Her makeup didn’t really cover the ravages of fast living. She struck a model pose, one hand on her hip, her head tilted as she looked him up and down, very obviously working to hide surprise and anxiety. Stephanie looked diminished somehow, fragile, still in her conservative suit, still clutching her purse, looking ethereal in her beauty. He could only imagine the shock she’d have felt, finding her sister in her apartment, knowing he was on his way. Dace immediately moved to her, wrapping an arm around her waist, tucking her into his side.
Sophie went straight into attack mode. “You’re with Dace? You’re fucking my ex-boyfriend? Oh, Stephanie. Some things never change.”
Stephanie trembled and shrank against him. Dace struggled not to slap her sister into next week. “Shut your lying mouth, Sophie.” His voice lashed through the space between them, and Jake’s hackles rose, the rumbling in his chest audible as he fixed his cold, clear eyes on Sophie.
She cast a cautious glance at both of them, her eyes widening when she took in Jake’s stance. Her voice, when it emerged, whinier than ever. “I came to see my sister, Dace. Dad said she’d been asking about me. She’s bait, huh? Bait with fringe benefits. Sweet Stephanie. So much for family loyalty.”
“Stephanie didn’t sell you out, bitch. She possesses more class in her little finger than—”
Sophie cut him off, the drama obviously making her forget about Jake, who paced closer. Dace snapped his fingers, and the dog subsided.
Sophie nearly snarled at him, clearly desperate now. “Bullshit. Well, what’s it going to be? If you want your money back, get in line. If you want your pound of flesh, good luck. You wouldn’t risk a courtroom. Your friends and colleagues would find out how I fucked you over, Dace. And Stephanie here would get dragged through the muck right alongside me.”
Dace shrugged. “I’m not interested in anything other than seeing your ass sway right out the door.”
Sophie gaped at him. “That’s hardly what you said to me when I had my mouth on your cock, or you were fucking me in that limo you’re so attached to! Are you saying my sister does you better than me?”
Stephanie was face-to-face with her sister before Dace could react, tearing herself from his grasp. “You do what you have to do, Sophie. I really don’t care. You have no clue about what Dace and I have, and it makes me feel sorry for you. Pity, sister. And you’d do well to remember who the keeper of all the family secrets is and consider the number of people who would dearly love to make your acquaintance again.”
Jake growled, and Sophie backed away from Stephanie, her face twisting with anguish, swiftly replaced by malice. Dace let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, preparing to intervene before things escalated into a cat fight. Sophie produced another venomous glance to encompass them both, picked up her purse and jacket, and sailed through the door. Stephanie eased it shut behind her and locked it, then slid down the panels to the floor, bowing her head to her knees.
Jake licked her face before Dace could reach her. Coaxing the dog aside, he scooped Stephanie up and carried her into the bedroom, depositing her on the bed before lying down beside her. She cried into his suit jacket for an eternity before her sobs hiccupped into silence. He wiped her face with a wad of tissues and offered her another handful to blow her nose. Her eyes were swollen and red, like her nose, her makeup washed away. He loved her beyond words.
“Sweetheart?”
“You really let her go.”
“No question, Stephanie. She’s not important.”
“No, she’s not. She’s out of my life, and yours. High time. I’m so relieved.”
“She’s still family,” Dace suggested, although he secretly hoped his minx would disown her sister.
“You can’t choose your family, Dace, that’s true. But you can choose to live your life separate, and I do. Sophie doesn’t care about anyone but herself and doesn’t deserve my loyalty. I’ve wasted too many years on misplaced family ties, but they were all I had. Now I have you.”
Once again, Dace was humbled before her trust and honesty, and accepted the welcome burden.
“Douglas is tainted, too, and I don’t want him anywhere around your business or anyone else’s that we know. He’s an absent father, and, well, we’ll see.”
Dace kissed her red little nose before pressing another on her lips. She kissed him back then rolled away. She pulled off her work clothes and hung them up before slipping into her robe.
“I’m starved. All these epiphanies and emotional outbursts made me work up an appetite. Come and peel the potatoes while I prepare the chops and make a salad. Maybe feed Jake before he fades away to nothing.”
Dace followed her into the kitchen and followed her culinary orders, marvelling at the resilience of his woman. Any remaining weight he might have carried in regard to Sophie magically dissipated, and he was fiercely glad they had confronted her together, although Stephanie could clearly hold her own. And all that crying had been the result of heartfelt relief. Even if the bitch crawled to the surface again and invaded their lives, he figured they’d cope. Revenge wasn’t even in his vocabulary anymore, but he’d protect Stephanie to the death.
As for his family, he’d cross the first bridge with Chad next week and move forward from there. A few hours in Stephanie’s presence would convince even the most sceptical, except maybe his sister, who’d been threatened on both fronts. She’d seen her beloved brother gutted by a beautiful face and treacherous body, then witnessed the femme fatale make a play for her husband. Dace knew about Clay trying it on subtly with Stephanie, even if he accepted his brother-in-law had used the only test at his disposal. He didn’t like it, but Stephanie effectively dealt with Clay. He would need to remind her that she would absolutely tell him if any man came onto her no matter if she addressed it herself.
Dace put the potatoes on to boil, then surreptitiously felt in his suit pockets for the four lengths of velvet rope he stashed there when they left the limo. The contrast to the domesticity didn’t escape him, and he chuckled.
* * * *
Stephanie’s eyes had taken on the golden hue of arousal some time earlier. They enjoyed their dinner and didn’t speak of Sophie again. Dace made certain to send her speaking glances and touch her at every opportunity, quick, barely there touches, winding her up. After cleaning up and taking Jake for his final walk of the day, stopping to reassure Mr. M along the way, Dace once again shut the dog out of the bedroom. He planned to make his wench scream over the next while, and Jake might not differentiate between pain and pleasure, although Stephanie might think the two were intermingled in a good way before he was done.
He stripped her of her robe and underthings without comment, motioning her into the bathroom where she used the toilet, brushed her teeth, and washed her face. Dace undressed to his boxers and took his shoes and socks off, getting comfortable. The state of his cock belied any level of real comfort, and he palmed it to assuage the need for instant gratification. He was so proud of his woman on top of everything else he felt for her, and proud of himself, too.
> Stephanie emerged from the bathroom, all five foot two of her, round breasts bobbing on her narrow rib cage, the pink nipples taut. She was all pale, flawless skin, curves, and graceful lines, her brilliant hair streaming over her shoulders. He drank in the way her hips flowed into her willowy thighs, her shaven mound soft and sweet between them. Her calves swelled then tapered into slender ankles and narrow feet. He could see the arousal glinting on her pussy lips and wanted a taste immediately if not sooner, but restrained himself.
“On the bed, sweetheart, face up, in the middle.”
Stephanie smiled at him and did his bidding, moving with confidence and grace. She stretched out on the bed exactly in the middle, and he watched her brow furrow as she noted the thick towel placed right where her luscious ass lay, but she said nothing. He crossed to her and picked up the restraints from where they curled on the night table. Stephanie’s breath stuttered, and her eyes widened. He could scent the flow of her cream. He tied first one wrist, then the other to the brass headboard, testing his knots, ensuring she was secured but that the ropes weren’t too tight to interfere with her circulation. He’d brought longer lengths to restrain her ankles and tied them off, too, leaving enough play to easily insert the pillow beneath her to elevate her hips. The light from the little lamp on the night table wasn’t enough, so he flicked the overhead on.
Stephanie blinked and then blushed. He watched the rosy shade blossom at her aureoles and climb up over her throat to paint her cheeks. His sex kitten still had a modicum of shyness, but she wasn’t hiding anything from him tonight. Once he heated her up, it would probably be a good time to tell her he’d paid off her student loans. The sex would mitigate her response, and the restraints save him from some physical harm. Dace shrugged inwardly. He’d see to it that she forgave him for that, too.
“I guess we’ll see if foot rubs actually rate right up there with orgasms, minx. You ready for the comparison?”
“I am indeed, professor.”
“How soundproof are these apartments?” Dace asked casually, hiding his amusement at her little dig. She would indeed be his student, and he’d offer her a whole new curriculum.
“The bedroom’s on the outer wall, so there’s no one to hear us in the next suite, and I never hear either my upstairs or downstairs neighbors. Why?”
“Because I suspect you might be quite vocal tonight, Stephanie, and I wouldn’t want anyone to misinterpret.”
He ran a finger between her legs. Dripping. How had he gotten so lucky? Dace would always remind himself of that luck. Stephanie was perfect.
Crossing to the dresser he stood, transfixed, for a long moment, studying her completed painting. The sun had broken through, shafts of light pushing back the darkness and gloom, bathing the countryside below with the promise of beauty and hope. Perhaps it had been a prophecy, Stephanie nearly frantically applying the heavy oils just a few nights earlier to his delight and admiration of her talent. Only the realization that she awaited his pleasure enabled him to pull his attention away from how that landscape spoke to him, a portent of their future.
Picking up the bowl, draped with a dishtowel, perhaps the very one Stephanie had attempted to cover herself with on that interesting day not so long ago, he turned back to her. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, as she tracked his every movement. He smiled at her, as evilly as he knew how and marvelled at her response. Those juicy nipples pointed like tiny arrows, and she squirmed against her binds, trying to rub her thighs together. He bet the need was building to uncomfortable proportions in her pussy. His cock was in such a state of torment he was giddy.
Fishing an ice cube out of the container, he casually lowered it to just below her right collar bone, the cooling sensation causing Stephanie to catch her breath. He slid the little square down to her breast, moving in concentric circles, gradually shrinking the diameter until the ice coasted over her taut bud. She had managed her verbal response until that point with gasps and little bites on her lower lip. But a tiny shriek passed her attempt at control, and he did some biting of his own to keep his face impassive.
“It’s too cold, Dace! Take it away, please. Please.”
He obliged, slowly, working the diminishing cube across the valley of her breasts to make a direct course to her other nipple, treating it to the same experience as the first. Stephanie shrieked again, and her head lifted a fraction from the pillow before falling back in surrender.
“Good girl.” Dace popped the sliver of ice into his mouth and bent to suckle her, alternating breasts quickly, using the dual sensations to drive her higher.
“Oh God. No more. It’s too much.”
“Sweetheart, we’ve just begun.” He soaked up the way she stared up at him, aghast yet anticipatory. Dace dropped a kiss on her lips before moving to kneel between her widespread legs, dropping his feet off the mattress to give himself the stability he would require when her real sensual torment began. He propped the bowl beside Stephanie’s hip, and she peered down at it before tearing her eyes away to meet his.
“No—”
“Yes. You’ll take it, Stephanie. For me.”
She blinked twice, then once again relaxed and waited.
He spread her dripping folds wide with his thumbs, the swollen tissues engorged with her arousal, and held them apart, looking his fill. Stephanie was initially reticent about him looking at her there, but had come to accept how beautiful he saw her as being. Dace slowly released her, and the outer lips stayed open, the inner ones quivering, shining with her juices. He watched as the spade-shaped opening of her sheath clenched, begging to be filled. Choosing a larger chunk of ice, Dace gently traced her folds, the heat of her sex causing a quick melt, drops of water running down her cleft to mingle with her cream.
Her head began to thrash on the pillow, her breath puffing in and out of her nose as she struggled to process his actions. The ice was just the right size, and he pressed it against her opening, using the fingers of his other hand to hold her now-closing labia wide.
Stephanie screamed and fought hard against the ropes as he pushed the ice cube up inside of her. “Oh my God! It’s…I can’t…Dace, please…”
He grabbed the last piece of ice and pressed it to her clit with no warning. She screamed and told him to stop, told him no, and he ignored her plea, recognizing it for the involuntary reaction it was. When he was certain the little knot of nerves was numb, he pulled the ice away and replaced it with his mouth, sucking and laving her clit with abandon as he stealthily pushed the remainder of the ice into her channel.
* * * *
Stephanie’s vision blurred, and every ounce of her being centred right beneath Dace’s lips. Her core was an aching, cold counterpoint to the heat of his clever tongue, and her clit awoke and burst into a sparkling, fizzing cacophony of sensitivity. The orgasm rolled over her from some primal place she hadn’t visited before, and her screams and guttural cries reverberated in her head as well as her bedroom. She was powerless to stop the sounds of release, powerless against the second wave of sensation Dace coaxed from her. Her back arched as much as her restraints would allow, and she fought to stay present, screwing her eyes shut.
He surged up her body, cocooning her with his amazing warmth, and notched his cock at her gate. It felt enormous and on fire against her cold sheath, the freezing water dripping down to cool her buttocks. He pushed in to fill her in one thrust, and she felt him at her womb, the iron velvet of him heating her, beginning to free her from all that amazing cold. Her eyes popped open and met Dace’s. His, too, were wide, those familiar blue orbs full of awe as her frozen sheath engulfed him.
He worked above her, his cock stretching and dragging on her awakening tissues. He prodded her G-spot, and she began to climb again, relentlessly.
“I can’t again. Dace. I can’t.”
“You can, sweetheart.” He gritted the words out, his throat cording with effort, never taking his eyes from hers.
It became a gentle, shivery ascent to meet him,
and when Dace stilled against her and shuddered through a deep groan, Stephanie’s sheath fluttered and she felt it clasp him in a long, slow, rippling kiss, mirroring the one he pressed on her mouth.
“Like the tutorial?” His tired, amused tone vaguely pierced her languor.
“Uh, huh,” she managed.
Dace pulled out, and their combined fluids flooded her thighs. The ropes were untied and her wrists then her ankles rubbed and massaged, another kiss placed on each extremity. Dace used the towel beneath her to tenderly wipe her dry before setting it and the bowl containing those instruments of her erotic torture on the floor. She lay, splayed like a starfish, boneless and replete, unable to move and unwilling to, while he turned out the lights and let Jake inside the bedroom.
He then climbed in beside her, his long, hard length pressing against her shoulder, her hip, her calf. His hand crept up to find hers, and he laced their fingers together.
“Best decision I ever made, sweetheart.”
Stephanie dug deep to have the last word. “Which one? The one to fuck me or the one to make me wait?”
Dace chuckled and eased her arm down, reaching to turn her on her side and tuck her into his chest. His reply was muffled in her hair, but she heard him. “When I decided you were the one. My happily ever after.”
THE END
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The Decision (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 14
