by Eden Bradley
Summer laughed. “I was in too much of a hurry to get over here and talk to clean up first. Sorry, Den.”
“It’s okay. One of us should be getting some and it’s not me this week. Or this month.”
“I don’t know why the boys aren’t lining up for you.”
Dennie sat back in her chair and stretched her long legs. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I’ve worked my way through this town. Might have to start looking over in Lafayette or up to Baton Rouge.”
“Silly girl.” Summer grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. I’ll send you my bill.”
Summer grinned and waved on her way out the door.
* * *
WORK SEEMED TO go on forever on Monday, but finally Summer was done and on her way home to get pretty for Jamie. He’d called Sunday evening, but she kept the conversation short, telling him she was tired. She felt bad, but the phone felt too distancing to her somehow. She had to see him in person.
She stopped at the local produce market to buy a basket of blackberries as an offering—they were Jamie’s favorite. Once she reached her little house she showered, taking her time, preparing herself for him in a way that felt like a ritual. She’d read about this in one of the books Allie had given her—submissive women paying attention to every detail, focusing on the feel of the soap as they made sure every inch was clean and smooth. Massaging scented lotion into their skin, dabbing perfume behind their ears, between their breasts, transforming themselves into an offering for their Dominant. Was that what she was doing for Jamie?
Tonight they were going to have those negotiations, once she apologized for practically kicking him out of her bed yesterday morning. And after that, maybe they’d have their first real play.
Oh Jesus.
Her heart beat faster and her body heated. Real play with Jamie. Play and sex, the air of command in his voice, his hands on her skin. That exquisite contrast of pain and pleasure that somehow blended and became one sensation. She let out a quiet moan. Lord, what that man did to her.
By the time she slipped her sundress on, even the cotton skimming her flesh was like a sensual touch to her.
As she slid her feet into her high denim wedge sandals, Madame came strolling into the bedroom to inspect her. Or to nap in her closet.
“Just in time, Madame. What do you think?” She did a small pirouette. “If this doesn’t knock Jamie’s socks off, I’ll have to go back to charm school. Don’t wait up for me.”
She got in her Jeep as the sun was setting and drove to his place, but there was no answer at the door. Maybe he was at the gym? If not, she knew where she’d find him. She decided to check his shop first.
Being almost seven-thirty, the place was closed, but sure enough the tow truck was out front and she could see his vintage cherry-red Corvette Stingray parked inside. She found a parking spot and remembered to grab the berries before getting out. As she walked up to the front of SGR Motors she spotted Jamie inside through the big window. He was sitting at the big desk in the office, his head bent. Even the sight of his head made her pulse run hot and thready in her veins. In that insistent, needy place between her thighs. And it suddenly occurred to her that maybe no one had ever had sex on Jamie’s desk before. She smiled and stepped inside.
* * *
JAMIE LEANED IN over the keyboard, skimming through the coming week’s schedule, checking to see that all the parts they’d need had been ordered, saw the note to show one of his customers the special rim catalog tomorrow morning. Since his shop’s specialty was restoring vintage muscle cars—like his sweet Corvette—he kept drawers full of stock catalogs, as well as everything available to trick out a hot ride. If a customer wanted anything from custom chrome pipes to fuzzy dice, he knew where to find it. He turned and opened one of the file drawers next to the enormous wood desk, searching for the Wheel Vintiques catalog.
When he came up with the catalog in his hand he almost dropped it. Because there in the doorway stood the luscious Summer Grace Rae, looking like some Southern version of nearly-porn. She was wearing a short—very short—blue and white gingham-checked dress with white lace around the edges that fit her body like a second skin. The halter-style top made for some gorgeous cleavage, and he knew right away there was no bra underneath. The dress was short enough that if she bent over a bit he’d know whether or not there were any panties under there. It also bared a nice, long expanse of tanned legs—or as long as they could be on such a petite girl. She looked cute as a button and sexy as hell simultaneously. But he didn’t have time to wonder how she managed to do that before she walked over and sat on his desk, her bottom right on top of the catalog, which made him go instantly hard.
“I brought you some blackberries,” she said, all sweetness with that sultry edge she was known for. She held out a small basket of succulent-looking berries, and he took them, barely able to focus.
“Thanks. That was awfully thoughtful.”
“I’ve been thinking about a few other things,” she said, her tone lowering.
He set the berries aside and scooted his rolling office chair over to trap her with one arm on either side of her delicate and faintly perfumed body—those violets again. Oh yeah, he was definitely going hard.
“I’ve been thinking a few things myself, sugar.”
She laughed, low in her throat. “I bet you have.”
Damn, what this girl—this innocent-faced siren of a woman—did to him.
Get it together.
He cleared his throat. “As much as I’d love to throw you down and fuck you over my desk without even thinking about turning the damn lights off so anyone passing by couldn’t see—and I mean that, Summer Grace—you and I have some talking to do first.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
She batted her lashes at him and he nearly lost it, those images he’d just called up threatening to take over his mind. And his hardening cock. He wanted to get her naked and spread her out on his big desk, fuck her right there. Right now.
Damn it. Focus.
“We need to handle negotiations,” he said, calling on his years as a Dominant to get his libido under control. “I imagine you’ve done that at least once with Maîtresse Renee?”
She nodded. “Yes, but Allie was there with me, and I’d had some coaching before.”
That sense of hyper-responsibility kicked in hard. “Do you feel you should have a mentor here to help you negotiate with me? It’s okay to say you do.”
“Not with you, Jamie.”
“Is that just need talking? Have you heard of sub frenzy?” He didn’t want it to be that, but he had to ask.
“Yes, in one of the classes I went to with Allie and Rosie. Do you know Rosie? She did my tattoo.”
“Yeah, I know who Rosie is. She’s Finn’s girl, although I knew her before they met. Real nice woman and talented. Know about her kink, too. Now tell me what you know about sub frenzy, sweetheart.”
Summer Grace nodded. “It’s that hunger for play that drives a new submissive or bottom to do things that are maybe beyond their limits. But, Jamie, I’ve wanted you for an awfully long time. I’m not giving away any womanly secret here—I’ve never hidden that from you, or from anyone. And yes, kink is fairly new to me, at this level, anyway, and I understand my personal desire may intensify the play for me. But I’ve been very clear on what I want for . . . too long. So yes, I know what it is, and while I want . . . it’s not a frenzy. It’s simply what it’s always been when it comes to you, but magnified by the kink factor. Does that make sense?”
Jesus, she was perfect. “It does. Are you ready to begin the negotiations?”
“You’re the boss, Jamie.”
“Not yet, I’m not. Not until we go through this process and you’re still saying yes—if you are. Do you have safewords?”
“I use the most
common ones—green if things are good when you check in with me, yellow if I need you to switch toys, to lighten up or if I need a drink of water or something. Red if the scene needs to stop completely. But for the record I am definitely saying yes. It will always be yes with you,” she added quietly, something hard and shining behind her pretty blue eyes.
It will always be yes with you.
He forced himself to focus. “Let’s start with some of the easy stuff—things we’ve addressed casually, or that I saw you do at The Bastille. But I’m not going to assume you will do everything with me you’ve done with someone else. No, don’t say anything—that fact is a given until if and when long experience together proves otherwise. I want you to say yes, no or maybe to each of the kinks or toys or activities I throw out there. If there’s an explanation or some related detail you think I should know, speak up. Honest communication is the key here. It’s the only way we can play and I can keep you safe—physically, mentally, emotionally. If there’s an emotional trigger attached to anything, I need to know about that. Okay? Tell me you understand what I’m asking of you.”
“I understand. Allie and Rosie have had a thorough talking-to with me. More than once before they’d let me play.”
“Good. Now start by telling me about any health issues or physical limitations.”
“I’m healthy top to bottom. And I don’t know of any physical limitations. I know I like pain, especially when it’s mixed with pleasure. I have no idea how far I can go. It’s too new. And I already have a sense that it can be different depending on who I’m playing with—that some of how my body will react is mental connection and chemistry. Is that right?”
“That’s exactly right.” And Lord, the chemistry they had was off the charts. He had a sadistic side, so he’d have to be careful not to overplay her until they found out what she could really take. God, the things he wanted to do to her. “Tell me how you feel about bondage.”
“I’m not into the rope thing in the way Allie is with Mick. I’d rather be cuffed.”
“Chains?” He had to ask about one of his favorite fetishes. His hands balled into fists while he waited for her to answer.
“Oh yes,” she said with a soft catch in her voice, making him remember how hard he was. “I love how heavy-duty they are. There’s something a little dangerous about them, if that makes sense. Exciting. I haven’t tried them yet, but I really like the idea. Can a person be bound in chains? I mean wrapped all around your body like you can with rope?”
He stifled a groan. “Oh yeah. And you have no idea how happy you just made me, sugar.” She smiled, her face lighting up. Lighting him up. Making him hard again. He shifted in his chair before continuing. “What about spanking? Yes or no? Or maybe?”
“A definite yes.”
“How about a paddle? Leather? Wood?”
“Leather, yes. Wood . . . I’m not sure. I’d have to try it.”
“Caning?”
He saw a small shiver go through her. “I’d like to try.”
“But it scares you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “A little, yes.”
He leaned in and said quietly, “You don’t have to play the tough girl with me. This isn’t the time for that. I already know how tough you are, sweetheart. You have nothing to prove with me.”
She looked into his eyes, hers gleaming in the harsh lighting of his office, the pupils enormous. She said in almost a whisper, “Don’t I, Jamie?”
He took her hands in his. “Why do you think that?”
“Because of our history—I don’t want you to change your mind before we play. And maybe because you haven’t even kissed me since I got here.”
His hand went into her hair and he drew her face to his. “That was a huge mistake on my part, sugar girl. You had me distracted—you in your tight little dress and your berries. I won’t make that mistake again. Come here,” he said before pulling her close and pressing his lips to hers.
A small sigh escaped her lips, and he breathed it in as he parted them, exploring, delving with his tongue. And sweet Jesus, her mouth alone, the hunger in her kiss, was enough to nearly bring him to his knees. His cock, his entire body, pulsed with the hard beat of desire. When he pulled back, they were both a little breathless.
“That, my sugar girl, is why I didn’t kiss you right off. I wasn’t sure I could responsibly carry on negotiations after I had your sweet mouth under mine.”
“And now?” she asked. Her cheeks were flushed pink. He ran his thumbs over the baby-soft skin there.
“And now it’s maybe a good thing we at least got started. That we had a chance to set down the ground rules. But I’m going to sit back and take my hands off your lovely body or things are going to get real dirty real fast and we may never get the negotiating part done. Which means none of the kinky stuff for you, young lady.” He grinned, giving her nose a small tap, and was surprised to see her blush.
She was already falling into subspace and he knew it was his own fault. Time to cool down. He pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’m getting a Coke. Want one?”
“Yes, sure.”
He went to the mini-fridge on the other side of the room, grabbed two cans of soda and handed her one, careful not to get close enough to breathe in that violet scent that always made his dick hard.
Down, boy.
He sat in his chair once more, careful not to touch her even though his hands itched for the satin of her skin. He flexed his fingers. “Okay. Let’s move on. Do you like some rough body play? Really more manhandling in my case, I guess. Do you know what that is?”
“There seems to be different levels of it from what I’ve learned. But what I think of as manhandling I think I’ll like a lot. You sort of did some of that with me already.”
“And?”
Her tone lowered. “Come on, Jamie. You saw how I responded.”
“Yes, I did, but I need you to tell me.”
“Then you saw how much I liked it. The way you used your body to overpower me. Oh yeah, I am definitely into it.”
Her eyes were glossy with desire, her voice low and sultry. She meant every damn word she said. She wasn’t one of those girls who would say only what they thought he wanted to hear. If Summer Grace said she loved it, then she did. He loved that intensity about her. Her frank sexuality. He’d been an idiot to have held her off all these years—once she was legal, anyway. But what mattered now was that she was sitting there on his desk, all that simmering heat aimed at him. This was one time when he was more than happy to be the target. She’d already hit him dead center.
Do your job.
“Is there anything else you want to try?” he asked, buying himself a moment to get his head back together. “Anything I haven’t brought up?”
“I don’t know. There’s so much variety. It seems endless.”
“That’s true. I think the best way is to start off fairly simply, look around and see what else piques your interest. If you find anything you think you’d like to try, talk to me about it. Your limits can always be renegotiated later.” She nodded. “Okay, hard limits and triggers? Do you understand what that means?”
“Hard limits are things that are just a ‘no’ for me—that aren’t even up for discussion. And triggers are anything that will set off some sort of unpleasant emotional response. Right?”
He nodded.
“Well, my hard limits are the squicky stuff I filled out on my form at The Bastille—the usual stuff, from what I’m told. No scat, animals, blood. No age play. And right now, until I get to know myself better, no electrical play, no whips, no knives, no needles, and I never even thought of this until Allie brought it up, but for God’s sake, no damn clowns!”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, sugar, no clowns for me, either. But let me ask you this: breath play?”
Her breath caught, as if he already had
her in his grip. “That takes a lot of trust. But with you? Yes. And Jamie? You can take it a little further than you did at my house.”
He had to suppress a shiver as an image of his hand around her lovely throat crossed his mind. He gave himself an internal shake, cleared his throat. “Anal sex?”
One corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Yes. Definitely.”
“Are you basing that answer purely on theory?”
“No, I am not,” she answered, her blue eyes twinkling.
“What about mind-fuck?”
Her lips quirked. “Like you can avoid doing that? But, yes. Please. I think it helps me . . . get out of my head. Which is good because to be honest . . . Well, sometimes I sort of think I’m too smart for everyone else. It’s actually comforting to be taken down a few notches. I think too much in general and it’s good to be forced out of that pattern. It also means I’m not . . . responsible for everything.”
He saw her swallow hard. Scooting the chair closer, he tucked a silvery strand of hair behind her ear. He asked gently, “What do you think you’re responsible for, sweetheart?”
She swallowed again, and her glance darted away for a few moments, then back to him before she answered. “For everything. For . . . keeping my family together after Brandon died.”
“Aw, sugar, that was never your job.”
She shook her head, and he saw how hard she was hanging on to that well of emotion. It didn’t matter that the conversation had shifted from kinky sex to something so deep, so profound. No—it did matter, because it was them. And maybe no one else in the world could know the inside of this thing—Brandon’s death and what it had done to the Rae family. He knew it because he’d become their second son before they lost their own. And because he knew what the loss of his brother Ian had done to his own family. It tore a hole that could never be repaired, only patched in some haphazard fashion.
“Summer Grace, look at me, baby.” He took her face between his hands, cradling it in his palms. Her eyes were enormous. “This is me. And I’ve been doing this for a long time. While you’re with me, I promise you can let it go. Turn it all over to me. Into my hands. Do you feel how strong they’ll hold you?”
