WindSwept Narrows: #22 Erika & Vianne

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  His wife.

  Those words did resound inside his mind. Laced in red and black and ribbons and satin and lace. The front had laces that criss-crossed from just below her naval to the spot between her breasts. Breasts now surrounded by tiny nets of intricately cut lace. The edges of the bustier were held in place by thin red ribbons resting at the edges of her shoulders. Her waist was nipped in and looked even smaller than normal. A bow of black ribbon decked out the miniscule red thong, at least his primitive male mind hoped to hell it was a thong.

  “Turn around,” he managed to say huskily, groaning when she slowly stood up and did as he said. Thong, his brain whimpered, the heart shaped ass bared to him. Then his eyes wandered to the two inch strip of lace holding up a pair of shimmering black stockings high on her thighs that ended in the four inch heels she had been adjusting when he came into the room.

  With a purpose. He was sure of that but he’d be damned if he could remember what it was right now.

  “You did specify red,” Vianne said slowly, turning to face him and stepping closer. “Or black, I think was one of your other requests,” she let her gaze fall from the dark eyes that had barely blinked to the definite approval thrusting against his slacks. She’d spent half an hour in the morning rereading the article she did on the dom/sub relationship several years ago and was surprised at how aroused she’d become. But inside, she knew because it was with Tanner.

  “I don’t guess I can hide my reaction to my wife…” he confessed gruffly, his hands tightening on the wood frame of the door as she walked closer. She’d added a red velvet collar to her ensemble and it only served to make him even harder.

  Vianne had never felt so aroused since meeting Tanner Clayton. His eyes were on her face and she liked the low groan when she dragged her tongue around her lips, her head tilted to the side.

  “I could relieve that problem for you…Sir,” she whispered with only a trace of apprehension. What if she was wrong? What if she hadn’t read his behavior correctly? Then she saw the fire burst and mingle with his hot arousal. And she felt her body react, hot moisture flowing like lava between her thighs.

  “Do you realize what you’re offering, Vianne?” His voice actually shook, he realized. Tanner kept his hands on the door, too aware of the thumping of his own heart right now. He felt a part of him break away, unable to explain the reaction he had to the single word at the end of her offer. Sir.

  “I felt your reaction yesterday,” she answered softly, not pretending to misunderstand his question. “I felt my own reaction, Tanner.”

  “I put that side of me away over five years ago,” he told her honestly.

  “Why?”

  “Because I believed it’s what the woman I was after wanted,” he answered, searching his memory for the reasoning he’d used at the time he walked away from that side of his personality. He easily found other ways to exert his dominance.

  “Are you afraid of that side of you?” She brought one palm up to stroke over the side of his face. “I’m not. I trust you.”

  “The only thing I fear in this world is losing you,” he said quietly, one hand leaving the door frame and taking her hand, his mouth pressed into the center and then onto the rapidly beating pulse. Eyes the color of melting chocolate sharpened when her other hand came from the side and pressed hotly down the fabric covered cock. He quickly took her wrist in his hand and spun her back to the door jamb.

  “I’m here, Sir,” she whispered without hesitation.

  Both wrists were above her head in seconds, his knee between her thighs and rising to press hotly against her pussy.

  “Are you wet, Vianne?” He wanted to know but didn’t wait for her response. He transferred her wrists to one hand and let the other caress over the pert, lace covered breasts. Groans came from them both, his hand continuing lower, flat and pressing into the front of her thong. He’d never get enough of her, long fingers stroking down the soft cleft and through the moisture.

  “I don’t understand what you do to me,” the words whispered out in between pants.

  “I do this,” his mouth moved closer to hers, drifting over her lips at the same time his fingers stroked the damp heat over her clit. His tongue speared between her lips, stroking and teasing as his fingers plunged inside her and his thumb pressed against her clit. She pushed her hips against his palm, little whimpers breaking free when he withdrew.

  “Tanner…” she stopped, staring up into his eyes.

  “We need to have dinner,” he told her softly, his fingers up and touching first his lips and then hers. He leaned down, licking her essence from his fingers and dragging his tongue around her swollen lips.

  “Dinner,” Vianne repeated slowly. He’d taken her right to the edge…just a little more, she thought with a sigh. Her eyes lifted toward where he still held her hands. “I should find something to put on…”

  “It’s warm in the condo,” he said firmly. “You can have dinner dressed just like this,” he stepped back just enough to carefully lower her arms, both hands massaging down their length. “I actually can’t think of anything right now I’d love to see you in but this, Vianne.”

  Tanner stepped back and gestured to the hall, his eyes never leaving the gentle sway of her behind as she walked. Christ, he would be insane by the time he was forty if she bought things like this on a regular basis.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Vianne had never eaten in her dining room in her underwear. When her feet slowed, a startled yelp broke from her lips when five very firm fingers gripped her ass.

  “No hesitation, Vianne,” Tanner told her with cool authority.

  “I should put something else on,” she bit her lip when the gripping fingers were replaced with a sharp slap that made her jump. Then she went stark still, his hands on her waist and mouth near her ear. “I don’t know if I can…sit there…dressed like this…”

  “I asked you if you were sure of what you were doing, Vianne,” Tanner kept his tone soft but firm. “This is the time you tell me you’ve changed your mind. I put that part of me away over five years ago and I can do it again because you’re more important to me than that ever was. Just say the words.”

  “It’s part of you,” she said softly, her chest rising and falling rapidly. And the slap had somehow made her all that much more heated. “I want all of you, Tanner.”

  “Then we’ll talk about it over dinner and this is your dinner attire,” he informed her flatly, his palms caressing down her hips before he stepped back. “I’ll get the chicken. Wine, water…”

  “Wine…I think I need some wine,” she sat without thinking and jumped slightly, her eyes closing as she drew in a long breath. She had no idea her chairs were that cold.

  “It’ll warm up as you’re there longer,” he said with a chuckle, his head shaking. He handed her the bowl of chopped chicken before going to the fridge and pulling out one of the bottles he’d placed there when he moved some of his things to the condo. He’d stopped and bought a variety of his favorites and filled the cooler in the pantry.

  “I’m sure it will,” she murmured, sprinkling the chicken over the large bowl of romaine lettuce and croutons. She’d added a shredded carrot and some small tomatoes for color. Vianne shook the container of dressing, spreading it evenly before using the tongs to mix and place on their plates. She stared at him, studying and puzzled that he would give up a part of him for a woman. He must have cared a great deal, she thought, the slightest hint of jealousy and maybe envy stabbing at her.

  He seemed so very confident in everything, she thought, watching the strong hands maneuver the cork free before pouring the light red wine into the glasses he’d brought from the cabinet. Sometime while they hadn’t been together, he must have brought things into the condo because the best she ever had would have been a left over bottle of something someone gave her as a gift. Now, the wine cooler in the pantry was filled.

  Tanner carried the wine to the table, grateful his hands weren’t shak
ing. He’d seen the look in her eyes before she quickly turned her attention to her dinner.

  “Something is on your mind, Vianne. What were you just thinking about?” He took his seat, his stomach starving while clutching and twisting at this turn in their relationship. This swerve had not been in his mind’s eye. Not even remotely.

  “You gave up part of yourself for…for a woman,” she said firmly, never one to hide from what she wanted to know. She’d faced down dictators. This was a man she was coming to care about and who returned love. “Why didn’t it work out?” Her gaze lifted from the plate, the savory taste of the dressing and marinated chicken blending as she ate.

  “She had interests more important than a relationship at the time.”

  “Interests?” Vianne frowned slightly. “Another person?”

  “Her career.”

  “And she chose the career over you?” Confused anger edged her words and made him laugh.

  “I didn’t ask what her preference was,” Tanner answered honestly, taking a long drink of the cool wine and returning to his food. The fear of losing her was still pulsing inside him, but not as badly. This wasn’t a path he thought she’d take, but he could have sworn he’d glimpsed a little jealousy in her eyes.

  “I…you never gave her a choice?” Vianne’s voice had returned, her head shaking in disbelief. “Why?”

  “Because I knew her career was important to her,” he shrugged, the memories of his thought processes from five years back as clear as if it were now.

  “You didn’t give her a chance to choose,” she repeated softly.

  “Think of yourself five years ago, Vianne. Would you have given up aspects of your career if I’d come and swept into your life?”

  “I…why would my career have mattered? Couples carry on relationships in all career fields, Tanner.”

  “I’m not sure I could have handled watching you go off to places that should have been avoided by armies, let alone journalists,” he answered honestly.

  “Some spouses can’t handle their partners being police or firemen or part of the military,” she said in dawning understanding. “I don’t go to those places anymore. I had to come to the conclusion that I couldn’t handle them, either. But not out of fear of the evil there,” she offered a weak smile at the surprise on his face. “Because of the absolute sadness and despair. Assholes are everywhere, Tanner, every country, every city. But…the last two years…I blamed hormones but I honestly couldn’t take it anymore. I’d spend too much time after I returned so…sad…it all seemed to futile, so useless. Nothing was changing for them. From decade to decade; from leader to leader. I decided it was time to give it over to the younger, harder crowd to deal with.” She drew in a long, slow breath and put more of the salad on her plate.

  “So…in answer to your question…five years ago, I was just starting to be honest with myself,” she smiled at him, a little crookedly. “I suppose it would have been something to work out between us. But if it didn’t work because of me, then it had been my choice.”

  “And you don’t think I should have taken that choice away?” Tanner refilled their glasses before he put the last of the large salad onto his plate.

  “I think you should have given her a choice, after what you willingly gave up. And if you didn’t know her that well, why would you give up that part of you? How long had you been…well…” she wasn’t sure of the vocabulary for this new path.

  “It’s a lifestyle, Vianne. A choice. At least some consider it a choice. We have all kinds of terms for the personality type. An alpha, a dominant…no difference, really. And they’re all over, not necessarily involved in BDSM,” he sipped at his wine, the coil in his middle slowly loosening. There wasn’t derision or dislike in her eyes. The untitled love he felt still evident when she smiled at him.

  “Now we get into a discussion of nature as opposed to nurture,” Vianne said with a shrug. “I believe it’s a combination and a choice. You might have the underlying drive to be a corporate take-charge raider, but without the self-confidence, you remain in the bookstore clerking.”

  “Mine was a choice,” he said firmly. “A girl…told me once I was sweet and nice and if I wasn’t careful, the corporate world would swallow me up and spit me out because I wanted to change how things were done for those less fortunate. I decided to take charge and the first step was to find out if I really did have it or not.”

  Vianne stared at him, her wine glass at her lips and lowered. “You learned how to be a Dom because of a girl?”

  “I learned how to unlock the alpha inside me and how to control it and those around me,” he corrected easily.

  “Did you date the girl?”

  “No. She turned me down. But now I’m figuring out it wasn’t because of me as much as it was things happening in her own life that I didn’t know about,” he answered honestly, insight and pieces about his wife slowly reforming inside his busy brain. “When you’re a teenager, you have this odd belief that the world goes screwy because of you, and tend to forget there are others involved in it.”

  Tanner relaxed and watched her clear the table. She’d left the killer shoes beneath the table and seemed to have forgotten she wasn’t wearing much clothing. And the sight of her ass as she carried things into the kitchen made his cock amazingly happy. And walking toward him…he couldn’t remember ever seeing a more delectable pair of red encased breasts in his life.

  “Would you have told me about this part of your life?”

  “If you’d asked,” he shrugged.

  “You do know that the part of you that…that is dominant…isn’t hidden very well,” she said as tactfully as she could, loading the dishwasher and turning to find him staring at her ass. “I’d almost forgotten I was half naked,” she sighed, studying the palm he held out to her.

  “Allow me to help refresh your memory,” he volunteered, leading her to the sofa and sitting back. He pulled her over him, guiding one knee on either side of his thighs.

  “Have you been to any of the local clubs?” Vianne settled her hands on his shoulders while his fingers traced very soft lines along the tops of her stockings.

  “No. I know the owners of one of the clubs just north of here,” he answered vaguely, his eyes rising to meet hers. “Put your hands behind your back, Vianne.”

  She listened to the natural authority in his voice, her hands moving almost before she realized she was doing as she was told. The movement straightened her back, sent her shoulders up and her breasts thrust forward. Her breath caught in her chest when he used one finger to rearrange the red netting around each breast, setting it free for his touch. He did the same to the other breast and sighed.

  “Would you go to the club? Would you take me there?” Vianne asked, her breathing stopped when his eyes darkened.

  “Vianne, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “I’m not a child, Tanner.”

  “No…no, you’re not. Tell me what you learned in the piece you did on the lifestyle,” he instructed, relaxing and just letting his fingers play with the tiny pink nipples, coaxing each one into a sweet crinkled peak.

  Talk, she ordered herself. Ignore the handsome man playing with your body parts like he owned them. Oh, wait, you were essentially telling him he does own them.

  “It was a ten part piece on the variations in human sexuality,” she managed in her best journalist voice. That she was proud of only quivered a little and she didn’t even groan. At least not yet.

  “Did you do all the segments?”

  “No. I chose this segment. I was…curious…maybe a little fascinated…”

  “A little frightened?” He tempted lightly.

  “A little…at some of the things I saw…some of the things I felt.”

  “Did you believe yourself a submissive when you did the piece?”

  “I…the Domme I interviewed said answering that question depends on the Dom and his or her particular style. I didn’t…didn’t take a test or anythin
g,” she said, trying to recall what she’d re-read that morning. “I think the stronger the female, the more difficult it would be to acknowledge and accept. It goes against everything we’re fed through feminist training and belief in self.”

  “A true observation,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down the center of her bustier, over the ties creating the crisscrossed pattern over her skin. He held her gaze as firmly as if it were in his palm. “What do you know about the protocols and rituals?”

  “I…I don’t know the language,” Vianne drew her tongue around her lips.

  “You knew enough to use the word Sir.”

  “Oh…alright…Sir or Master for a male; ma’am or Mistress for the Domme’s,” she frantically searched her memory. “I know it ranges from heavy, pain filled scenes to more erotic and sensual. I saw most of the equipment in the club but they called it a dungeon, I think for atmosphere.”

  “The earliest clubs in London were actual dungeons converted for what they considered the pervert pleasures of the upper class,” Tanner put his hands on her ass and pulled her closer, his mouth grazing over her breast. Occasionally he’d allow his tongue to flick over her nipple, but confined his play to the small rounded tear drop before him. “Protocol is as different as the history of the toys involved, Vianne. Protocol is generally how the Dom wants things to proceed in the play as far as their relationship is concerned. I’m not a man in need of a slave.”

  “But you do take control in the bedroom,” Vianne said with a husky little gasp, his teeth grazing her nipple and pulling a low, soft moan from her.

  “Never quite as natural as when I’m with you,” he answered, an almost unconscious disbelief sound in his voice. He sat back and drank in the sweet beauty he finally had for himself. He brought his finger to one of her breasts, trailing a teasing circle around her nipple. He liked seeing her eyes widen and her breathing hitch. And he knew she could easily feel how hard he was. “I didn’t believe I could possibly be any luckier than I was when we were married.”