Still Taking Chances

by Roz Lee

  The glow of Elgin’s light wouldn’t leave her alone. Why this night, when she’d seen it nearly every night? She lay in the darkness, more troubled than she’d been in years. She could help him, she knew she could, but what would it cost her? She’d already proved she couldn’t be involved and not get attached, and Elgin wasn’t staying. His grandmother’s house was still on the market. He would leave when it sold, if not sooner, and she’d be left behind with a broken heart, and the memory of him across the street for the rest of her life. She couldn’t do it.

  The sky showed no sign of impeding dawn when Mary Beth slipped on her Crocs and headed down the driveway to pick up the morning paper. Her fingers wrapped around the damp plastic wrapper just as she heard the footsteps. Her heart raced into flight mode. She jerked upright and clutched the paper to her chest, ready to turn and run from the hulk of a man bearing down on her out of the darkness. She’d taken two steps toward the house when she stopped. There was something familiar about the man, and she was certain it was a man. The footsteps were too heavy, the outline too large to be a woman. In an instant, she knew who it was. Elgin. Her heart tripped and fell to her toes. She turned and waited the span of two rapid heartbeats for him to see her.

  “Mary Beth.” He exhaled her name and sucked in a deep breath, taking it back as softly as he’d let it out.

  “Elgin. What are you doing out at this time of morning?”

  “I went for a run.” He stated the obvious. “How about you?”

  “Uh. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get an early start on the day.”

  “You couldn’t sleep? What’s keeping you awake, Mistress?”

  “Shh!” Mary Beth hissed. Her eyes darted around the sleeping neighborhood. “Someone might hear you.”

  “No one is awake yet.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ve been down every street in this town. I’m pretty sure you and I are the only two people awake, except for the guy who threw that newspaper.”

  Mary Beth glanced at the paper she held in a tight fist against her chest. She made a conscious effort to relax. “I can make breakfast. Would you like some?”

  Elgin studied her face for so long, a retraction was on her lips. She couldn’t imagine what had prompted her to issue the invitation in the first place.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Well, then,” she stammered. “Come on.”

  He followed her to the back door like a stray puppy who’d been promised a plate of leftovers. Mary Beth mentally shook her head as she led him into her kitchen. She waved him to the small table in the corner and went to the refrigerator and began pulling out ingredients for a big breakfast. “I don’t have any bacon or sausage, but I can make omelets.”

  “That sounds good. I’ve eaten much worse, and been thankful for it.”

  Mary Beth set a pan on the stove and broke eggs into a bowl. His comment underscored how little she knew about him.

  “So, tell me why you own handcuffs.”

  “I’m a DEA agent.”

  “Well, that explains the handcuffs. What are you doing in Prairieview? I doubt there are enough drug deals going down here to warrant a DEA agent.”

  “I’m on vacation.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” She tossed onion and chopped peppers into the bowl, added some grated cheese and poured the mixture into the skillet. “If you were going to spend your vacation time in Prairieview, you would have been back to see your grandmother before now.”

  “You’re full of questions this morning.”

  Mary Beth filled two mugs with coffee from the pot she’d started before she went out to get the paper. She took the two mugs to the table and returned with the plated omelet. She cut it in half, and served herself before shoving the plate to his side of the table. “If I’m going to help you, I have to know something about you.”

  Elgin shoveled the omelet in like a shop-vac sucking up a discarded towel. Mary Beth forgot all about her half, not that she had any stomach for it. She couldn’t believe she’d told him she would help him. Not that he seemed the least bit interested. He probably didn’t even know he needed help.

  He inhaled the last scrap of omelet and pushed the plate away. She tried to hide her stunned expression by sipping her coffee.

  “I didn’t ask for any help.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Everything about him screamed “help me” if you looked closely. Elgin was wound as tightly as a rope, but the edges had begun to fray from the years of pulling it tighter and tighter. She’d bet her whole box of toys that he’d come home to try and stop the fraying before the rope came completely apart. “ But you need it or you wouldn’t be here, hiding out in an empty house.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  God, he was hurting. Mary Beth ignored his denial and chided herself for caring. “Elgin is an unusual name. Is it a family name?”

  “I said, I don’t need your help.” Elgin stood and glared down at her. Muscles flexed in his forearms, and his hands clenched into fists. Holding on to the ends of the rope. She was pretty sure his intimidating stare and booming voice left plenty of people shaking in their boots, and he expected her to be no different.

  “Sit down and finish your coffee, Elgin. If you don’t want my help, then you won’t get it.” His glare was hot enough to reheat the cooling coffee in her cup. She refused to look away until he resumed his seat. Then, she got up, brought the coffee carafe to the table, and refilled their cups.

  “You aren’t afraid of me.” He stated it as if it surprised him.

  “No, I’m not afraid of you. You won’t hurt me. You won’t touch me unless I give you permission to.”

  “And you know this, how?” he asked.

  Mary Beth shrugged. “You won’t, will you, Elgin?”

  “No, Mistress, I won’t.”

  The depth of the pain she saw in his eyes made her heart weep. He was doing his best to hold himself together, to keep the ends of the rope from fraying out of control. She had no idea what secrets he held so tightly bottled up inside, but she knew how to get them out in the open, but she couldn’t do it unless he trusted her. She’d have to push him hard, and if he was too stubborn, she’d push him away. It was a risk she knew she had to take, no matter the risk she would be taking with her own heart.

  “I can help you, but not without your cooperation. Do you want me, Elgin? Don’t lie, I can see it in your eyes.”

  Elgin slid his chair out and headed for the door. “I told you, I don’t want your help.”

  Mary Beth stood and closed the distance between them. She was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body and smell his unique scent, heady now from his run. She hadn’t bothered to change from the tank top and shorts she slept in. She drew the tank over her head and dropped it to the floor. “I can help you,” she repeated and stepped closer. She slipped her hand under the hem of his T-shirt and found the elastic waistband of his running shorts. Her fingers slid inside the band and down the hard plane of his stomach. He sucked in a ragged breath as she closed her fist around his erection and stroked him. She tunneled lower, and gripped his balls in her fist and squeezed. “Go home, Elgin. If you change your mind about needing my help, I’ll be in my studio in the garage.”

  Mary Beth pulled her hand from his shorts and opened the kitchen door for him. She wasn’t sure how he ran with the erection he had, but he was made of steel. In more ways than one, she thought. She cleaned the kitchen, pulled on a pair of cut-offs before dragging the heavy box out of the closet. Elgin would come, and she would be ready for him. Somehow, she’d have to find a way to make sure to keep her heart barricaded.

  * * * * *

  Hud showered and dressed in his usual black jeans and T-shirt. He paced the house, unable to stop thinking about Mary Beth Winters. She wasn’t like any fem-dom he knew. She looked like an angel in the choir, and dressed like the girl next door. Where was her leather and latex? Where were the spiked
heels and dark makeup? Hell, even her name could freeze your balls off. Weren’t fem-doms supposed to have names like Desiree or Sade?

  He couldn’t stop thinking about the scene in her kitchen. He’d thought he would go off like a rocket when she wrapped her fingers around his cock. Then she’d squeezed his balls until he thought he might be singing soprano for the rest of his life. Damn. He wanted her. He wanted her more than he could remember ever wanting a woman in his life.

  He couldn’t have her. It was as simple as that. The other fem-doms he’d known hadn’t really required anything other than his body, but Mary Beth Winters wasn’t anything like the others. She’d require his soul before he could touch her. That was a price he wasn’t willing to pay for sex. Not now. Not ever.

  Who did she think she was, wanting to know about his name, touching him like that? She wasn’t his Mistress, no matter that he’d given her the title himself. He knew better than to use that title lightly. In so doing, he’d granted her permission to do as she pleased. He’d given her permission to ask the questions she had. So what if no other fem-dom had ever cared enough to want to know anything about him. Submitting his body had always been enough before. He could make her feel good, if she’d give him a chance, but she wasn’t going to let him touch her until she’d extracted not only her pound of flesh, but his soul as well. Not now. Not ever.

  Chapter Four

  Hud looked at the door, unsure what to do now. He’d gone for a walk and found himself outside her studio door, frozen to the spot. His heart pounded in his chest. He recognized the symptoms of the fight or flight response. Elevated heart rate, shallow breathing and heightened sensory perception. He couldn’t have mustered an erection if his life depended on it. His body was primed to do battle. He’d never run from a challenge in his life, and he wasn’t going to start with a pint-sized woman who thought she was a fem-dom. He remembered how she’d run practically screaming from his house when she’d seen his handcuffs. What real fem-dom would do that?

  No, he had nothing to fear from Ms. Frost Your Balls Winters. He’d go in there, tell her what was what, and have her naked under him in minutes. Maybe he’d let her spank him a little first so she’d feel like a real fem-dom. He smiled. Yeah, she’d like that, and he would too. He knocked on the door. When she called out as if she’d been expecting him, he opened the door and stepped inside.

  She sat with her back to the door and didn’t bother to turn and greet him. He took in her skimpy summer outfit, her bare feet with pink-tipped toes, her fire red hair pulled into a high ponytail and almost sighed with relief. No, this was no fem-dom, just a woman who was a little too brave for her own good. He mentally stripped her before he even got the door closed.

  “Go relieve yourself,” she pointed to a door in the corner, “the bathroom is over there.”

  What? He couldn’t believe his ears. She still hadn’t moved or so much as looked at him. He glanced over her shoulder to see what she was working on. Her attention was focused on a clay sculpture in front of her. He moved so he could see it better. The sculpture was about a foot high, and even to his untrained eye, he could tell it was exquisite. She was putting what looked like the finishing touches on a miniature cowboy carrying his saddle. Lines on his face conveyed his weariness, the lines of his body shouted his fatigue. Hud had never seen anything like it. At the sound of her voice, Hud snapped his gaze from the statue, to the artist.

  “What part of that did you not understand?” she asked without moving her eyes from her work.

  “I’m supposed to relieve myself? Is that what you said, Mistress?”

  “Yes. Now. When you’re finished, stand over there.”

  Why not? It wasn’t such a big price to pay for having a go at her delectable body. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he allowed a woman to play out her fantasy. Hud followed her orders and took up his position in the spot she’d indicated. She continued to ignore him until he’d just about had enough, and then she looked up from her work.

  Her eyes raked over him, and he had the impression she was mentally undressing him as thoroughly as he’d undressed her in his mind. Something about her perusal made him want to squirm, but he held still. “Do you always wear black?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Yeah, he could play this game. She jumped off the high stool she’d been sitting on and walked around the worktable. He followed her with his eyes, admiring the curve of her legs and the fine bones in her feet and ankles. She stopped and dug around in a large pink canvas bag that sat on the end of the flower-print covered sofa along the long wall opposite the door. His heart almost stopped beating when she pulled out a serious looking set of leather handcuffs and a length of chain. Whoa there! Where the hell did she get those? All the fight went out of him and all he could think about was getting the hell out of there, but she was such a little thing. How much harm could she do anyway? He willed his body to relax and his feet to stay put.

  “Hold out your hands.”

  Hud allowed her to fasten the cuffs around his wrists. She hooked them together with a short length of chain that looked like it came from a hardware store. If he twisted his hands around, he’d be able to unfasten the cuffs, he reasoned, as panic threatened to set in. He was momentarily distracted by the sweet curves of her ass as she walked away from him. She picked up a step stool and dropped it next to his feet. “Take your shoes off.”

  He toed his shoes off and kicked them to the side. When he looked up from his task, Mary Beth was on the step stool, a head above him. In one hand, she held an S hook attached to a chain and pulley, the other she reached down to him. “Give me your hands.”

  Hud swallowed hard and lifted his shackled hands. For the first time, he thought he might have underestimated Mary Beth Winters. She looped the chain at his wrists through the hook, and with a hand on the pulley chain, she jumped off the stool. Hud watched in dawning horror as she pulled the chain tight enough to make his shoulders burn and secured the pulley chain to a hook on the wall, well out of his reach, even if he had his hands free. He cursed under his breath. How had he missed the chain pulley overhead? If he’d been on a mission, a mistake like that would mean he’d be dead.

  “Spread your feet apart.” She kicked his instep, and he slid his foot out. His shoulders screamed at the added stretch. “I’m going to ask you a question, Elgin, and I want an answer. You’ll stay here, just like this, until I get one. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “I should have asked this one first. Do you have a safe word?”

  “Uncle, Mistress.”

  “Okay. If you say Uncle, I’ll release you, and this will be over. We, will be over. Do you understand, Elgin?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Good. Now, I asked you this morning and you refused to answer, so I’m going to ask again. Where did the name Elgin come from?”

  He’d be damned if he was going to tell her. As far as he knew, everyone who knew was dead, except him, and it was a story he fully planned to take to the grave with him. He held his tongue.

  “Do you think I’m playing games here, Elgin? I assure you, I’m not. You will tell me.” Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in a breath as she flicked the top button open and pulled the zipper down. “Tighty-whities, Elgin? From now on you will come to me commando, no underwear. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mistress. I understand.”

  A moment later, she shoved the underwear down just enough to free his limp penis and balls. She tucked the cotton briefs beneath his package and refastened the top button of his jeans. He looked past her bent head to see his penis hanging from his open zipper. The teeth of the zipper dug into his skin. He gritted his teeth and mentally called himself a stupid fucker in several languages. She didn’t look like a Lorena Bobbitt, but then again, Lorena Bobbitt didn’t look like the kind of woman who’d lop off a guy’s pecker either. He mentally went over the tools he’d seen on her workbench. Did sculptors use kniv
es? He’d seen plenty of other tools there that could inflict serious damage, and that was enough to scare the bejesus out of him.

  He closed his eyes and fought down the panic threatening to take him under. He’d never underestimated an opponent the way he’d underestimated Mary Beth Winters. He just hoped she wasn’t some kind of crazy serial killer. She took his penis in her soft little hand and toyed with it. He idly wondered if he’d ever have an erection again.

  As if she’d read his mind, she said, “Don’t worry, Elgin. I’m not going to hurt you.” He felt the air stir around him as she moved away. He counted to one hundred before he opened his eyes. She’d removed the cowboy sculpture from her workbench and replaced it with a lump of clay covered with what looked like a wet towel. He watched as she removed the towel and began to work the clay with her hands.

  She acted as if he wasn’t in the room. His shoulders burned, and his fingers grew numb from lack of blood flow. His legs and back hurt from trying to maintain his posture to relieve the pressure on his shoulders. If he relaxed even the slightest bit, his shoulders and arms protested. The one time he’d moved his feet a fraction of an inch, Mary Beth had looked up from her work and reminded him all he had to do was answer her question, and she’d let him go. Then she’d hopped off her throne, that’s what he was beginning to call her stool in his head, and kicked his feet further apart. “Don’t move them again,” was all she said before she returned to her work.

  It seemed like hours he hung there. He wondered how long his arms and fingers could go without blood flow. Mary Beth ignored him. Time passed slowly. He focused on her hands, hoping to distract himself from his discomfort. Her hands were skilled at what she did. It didn’t take him long to come to that conclusion. The lump of clay was taking shape. He couldn’t make out exactly what she was doing, but somehow, he knew it would be exquisite when she was done.

  “Why do you want to know about my name?”