Unrestrained: Book 3 of the Unrestrained Series

by Lund, S. E.

  He shook his head. "No, it wouldn't. I'd have you so worked up that when it was finally inside, you'd come immediately."

  I smiled and turned away. "I don't know…"

  "Is this a hard limit, Ms. Bennet?"

  "When you call me Ms. Bennet, I can’t be a sub."

  "I know," he said, smiling guiltily. "Katherine. Is it a hard limit?"

  I looked at him, noting the seriousness in his expression, and finally, I shook my head.

  "Of course not. If you say I'll enjoy it, I know I will. You've always been right. I trust you completely."

  He nodded. "Good," he said, sounding pleased. "No wager, then. You packed it in the boxes we had sent here before we left?"

  "Yes."

  "Good," he said again. "Our boxes are already in storage. When I get it, I'll show you just how good it can make you feel."

  Then he kissed me and I was swept up in his passion, all thoughts of whether Big would fit or what name I'd take when I married him erased by the heat he aroused in me with his touch, and the tiny kisses he pressed against my cheek, down my neck and throat. When he reached my breasts, he moved his lips over each one, burying his face between them, his hand squeezing one, my nipple caught between his thumb and finger. My back arched when he sucked it, his lips tender, his tongue warm and wet. Jolts of lust surged through my body as he sucked and squeezed my breasts, and I groaned, pressing myself against him.

  "That's what I want to hear," he murmured against my skin as he traced a line from my nipple to my belly, circling my navel. I exhaled and writhed beneath his mouth.

  He pulled his mouth away and glanced up at me. "I'm going to have to restrain you, Katherine, if you don't lie still."

  "I can't…" I gasped when he flicked his tongue lower, my body jerking in response.

  "Hold onto the headboard," he said. "Keep your legs still."

  I complied, trying to keep still as he demanded, but I couldn't stop moving as his tongue sent stabs of pleasure through me. My body shuddered with each touch, and it didn’t take long before I lost whatever control I still had.

  "Sir, I'm going to…"

  He didn’t stop as he usually would, so he could build me up even more before he gave me my release. Instead, before I could even think, he was inside of me, shoving into me fully. He laid on top of me, resting on his elbows, his arms on either side of my head. It was almost enough to send me over, but he didn’t move. He merely lay there, fully inside me, and kissed me.

  I squeezed myself around him, needing the stimulation, but he stopped me, breaking the kiss.

  "Stop," he said, his voice deep and warm. "Lie still."

  I tried, my body vibrating with need.

  "What are you…" I started to ask, my mind spinning, confused.

  "Shh," he said and kissed me once more, his tongue finding mine, sucking mine into his mouth. We lay there for several long moments, his mouth on mine, his body covering me, filling me entirely.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist.

  "Don't move," he said again. I stopped, waiting, so in need of more stimulation.

  Anything.

  We lay there a few moments longer and I was practically panting. Finally, he began to thrust slowly, deliberately slowly, his face over mine, his eyes burning into mine.

  "Sir—" I started to say, but he covered my mouth with his, drowning out my words. He thrust hard and deep and I went over, pleasure spreading down my legs and up into my chest, my breathing erratic. My muscles clenched around him as he thrust harder and faster. Then he came as well, his body tensing, his face a grimace of pleasure.

  We lay with our limbs entwined for a few moments, both of us breathing heavily.

  Finally, he slipped out of me, leaving me empty, but he remained on top of me, my legs around his waist, arms around his neck.

  "Sir, we've become very vanilla," I said, smiling against his shoulder.

  He pulled back, one eyebrow quirked. "Not enough kink for you, Ms. Bennet? It sure felt and sounded like you enjoyed it."

  "I did," I said, biting my bottom lip. "But is it good enough for you?"

  "Being with you, any way I can be with you, is good enough for me. But I'll make a special trip to the hardware store next weekend so we can play a bit once we get our own place. I promise…" He glanced around the room. "This bed is no good for bondage, and I don't want the butler to find any spreader bars or other implements of pleasure so we'll have to make do with plain old dominance. But you have to learn to obey, Katherine, or I'll have to stop being so indulgent and smack that pretty pink ass of yours."

  "Am I bad sub?" I said, batting my eyelashes playfully.

  "You are very bad," he said and kissed my neck. "I’d deny you an orgasm in punishment but you're far too responsive and would come despite my best efforts."

  I sighed and squeezed him more tightly. "Do you think there are dungeon parties in Nairobi?"

  "There are dungeon parties wherever there are enough kinky people. I happen to know there are dungeon parties here because I went to one when I was here before. Do you want me to find out when the next event is scheduled?"

  "I want you to be happy, Drake. If you need more kink, more D/s, I'm game."

  "I am happy," he said and kissed me. "I have everything I could want. You're here with me. I have a teaching job and a surgical slate. I'm working with an old friend. Being able to help out here in Africa." He shook his head slowly. "You don’t have to worry about that. The only thing that would make me happier would be to know that you couldn’t be happier."

  I smiled. I felt the need to say I couldn’t be happier too, but I didn't say it. There was a lingering bit of doubt inside of me about whether I could be happy here. Not with Drake – he was everything I could imagine in a man. But being here. Being thousands of miles away from my family and familiar places. Being out of school. No job. No classes.

  Drake would be working twelve-hour days and being on call on the weekends. I would have to make my own life if I didn't want to feel lonely and neglected.

  "You make me happy," I said finally. He nodded, but there was an expression in his face that I couldn't name – something between disappointment and acceptance.

  "It's only six months," he said and kissed my chin. "Before you know it, we'll be returning to Manhattan and will start planning our wedding."

  I smiled. We hadn't even found a place to live yet and he was already thinking ahead to our wedding. That tiny seed of doubt withered a bit at that and I sighed, relaxing into his warm embrace.

  Later, after we showered together and dressed, we went to the restaurant for breakfast and as I sipped my second cup of coffee, Drake called our Real Estate Agent Jan about appointments to see houses.

  Drake slipped his cell into a pocket. "Jan has three lined up for this afternoon. I thought we might spend the day in bed, but I'd like to jump on this, get a place as soon as possible. Michael wants me to start at the hospital on Monday. Classes start the following week and I have lots of work to do to get ready."

  I sighed with contentment and watched him finish his breakfast, deciding what I'd do with myself while he was gone. In Manhattan, I had my own life to keep me busy. Here in Nairobi, I would be busy setting up our house or apartment and then thinking about my art. I knew no one except Michael and Claire but there was a local chapter of Doctors Without Borders in Nairobi that I could join. I could volunteer, do office work, work on the newsletter. I'd see what they needed. I would meet some local people that way. Claire had spoken of open studio classes at the Institute. I'd check that out as well. There'd be students my age who were busy working on their art.

  It was then I felt incredibly lucky, with so much free time and absolutely no responsibilities other than making Drake happy when we were together.

  He looked up at me from his food. "What are you thinking about?"

  I smiled. "About the open studio courses at the Institute that Claire mentioned to me. I want to check it out, see if they have space. I
have that series of paintings to finish that I started in Manhattan. Plus, they have studio space for students. "

  Drake made a face, trying to hold back a smile. "Not more nudes of me sleeping I hope."

  "No," I said with a grin. "You naked in the bath. You naked sitting on the couch. You naked standing at the window, drinking a coffee…"

  He laughed. "Can't I be wearing some boxers or something? Not everyone wants to see my parts."

  "The collection will be for me. And maybe I'll let you wear some boxer briefs. No tighty whities for you."

  "Never," he said, making a face of mock horror and holding up his fingers, crossed as if to ward off a vampire. Then he was more serious, a frown creasing his brow. "But I thought we'd find a house with space for a studio. You wouldn't have to worry about finding space anywhere or working out a schedule."

  I smiled when the waiter poured more coffee, and while I stirred in some sugar, I thought about my response. "That would be nice, but part of the reason you work at a studio is to meet other artists. Be inspired by their work."

  "You mean like the three stooges at the studio in Chelsea?"

  "They weren't stooges!" I said, remembering my brief time at the studio. "Well, maybe Jules…"

  "I must confess I really didn't feel comfortable with you being alone with three men," Drake said, his voice a bit hesitant.

  "Drake," I said, a tiny bit of amusement at his jealousy building in me. "I have to have a life for myself, like you have. Maybe I should be jealous of you with all those pretty young OR nurses, not to mention young aspiring female brain surgeons…"

  "Ha!" He shook his head. "Skilled OR nurses are hard to find. They tend to be very bossy. They run the OR, in case you didn't realize it. We surgeons come in when they're all ready and do our bit and then leave. As to the surgical residents, most of the time they're far too exhausted to have affairs. Don't let the television shows fool you." He took my hand. "You have no reason to be jealous."

  I smiled at his descriptions. "Neither do you. I doubt there are many gorgeous brilliant talented and sexually dominant artists who could hope to hold a candle to you, Dr. Delish. You don't have to worry, either."

  "Well," he said. "If you really want to explore the local artist hangouts, if you really want studio time somewhere, I won't stop you. But I reserve the right to be jealous if your fellow artists are too attractive."

  "I reserve the right if the OR nurses and residents are sexy young things."

  "Agreed."

  He said it and I could see him trying to force a smile. I hoped he wouldn't be jealous. Couldn't he understand that I had absolutely no interest in other men at all? It was like they were neutral, not even fantasy material. Drake was everything to me. He was warm and strong, sexually experienced and skilled, intelligent and caring. He was all I needed or wanted. He had no reason to be jealous at all.

  Then I realized that maybe, just maybe, that’s the way he felt about me.

  After we finished, we took a stroll on the grounds, checking out the local environment. The weather was warm, the sky clear except for a light haze and a few high wispy clouds. We could be in Atlanta or San Francisco. There was nothing to indicate we were in Africa and so while I felt comfortable, and not out of my element, I did want to experience Kenya and especially go on safari.

  For the rest of the morning, what was left of it, we sat in our room and read the papers, a few-days-old New York Times, the London Times and a local Nairobi newspaper. I checked my email and found one from my father. He was extremely busy with his campaign, and although I had only been away from Manhattan for four days, I felt a momentary pang of regret that I wouldn't see him or Elaine for almost six months. When I did return at the end of July, he would be in full swing for the election in November. He had to win the nomination for the congressional district and was waiting on a key endorsement from a powerhouse in the Republican Party but it was pretty much assured he'd win. As a respected Justice of the Supreme Court of New York State, he had weight and was touted to easily defeat any rival who might also seek the seat.

  My father was in pretty good shape for his age, but he had a serious belly on him and I worried about the stress of the campaign. I'd be there for the run-up to the election and would help him out if I could at any campaign functions, despite our political differences. He was a good man.

  Drake's cell rang and he answered. It was either Michael or the real estate agent and I listened to see who it was.

  "We'll meet you in the lobby in fifteen."

  Drake ended the call and turned to me. "Jan will be here in fifteen to take us to our first appointment. A place in Kihingo Village."

  "Where's that?"

  "North and west of Nairobi's city center in Kitusuru. Gated, walled and really upscale. He has five houses available there, but we'll only see three today."

  I nodded, wondering what it would be like to live in a gated community. Besides my own tiny apartment in Harlem, I'd lived in the same apartment in Manhattan since I was born and was free to go anywhere in the city I wanted using Manhattan's wonderful transit system. Nairobi wasn't safe, depending on where you were, and so it would take some getting used to.

  Jan, our real estate agent, had moved to Kenya from Denmark a decade earlier. He had a thick Danish accent, and was very relaxed as he spoke about the community with rich expat Americans working at the University, area hospitals, or for one of the corporations located in Nairobi. We took his late-model BMW and he skillfully maneuvered the roads in Nairobi, taking us north to the Kitusuru Estates in the Kihingo Village where the first house was located. A guardhouse with a gate marked the entrance to the estate. Beyond the gate, the estate was lush and green, with mature trees and fields.

  We drove through the gated entrance of the community with huge houses and expansive lots filled with grass and trees and green spaces. There was even a man-made lake and picturesque bridges crossing streams. It looked like a very expensive suburb outside of any American city. Drake was right when he said we wouldn't even know we were in Africa.

  The streets were wide and paved. A few children rode on bicycles, or played soccer on a pitch near the lake. It was quaint and I knew it would be quiet. We drove past a small shopping center with a large parking lot where dozens of cars were parked, shoppers walking to and fro with bags and carts filled with their purchases.

  The houses were so much larger compared to what was typical in Manhattan. It was anything but what I was used to, having lived in Manhattan all my life. I couldn't imagine Drake and me living in a house so large. It looked more like something from Housewives of Beverly Hills. I didn't know how I'd fit in.

  We stopped in front of a huge red brick house, the exterior elegant, and it seemed to be recently landscaped. It looked brand new.

  "This one has four bedrooms and four bathrooms, a huge lot with a swimming pool, and there's a community tennis court, a track and shopping all within the compound."

  I turned to Drake, who was eager to get out of the car and explore. "Do we really need a place so big?"

  He took my hand. "No, but we can invite people to come and stay with us. Plus, you can use a room as a studio. I'll have an office and we could have a guest room."

  I nodded, and took in a deep breath as we entered the house. Its huge entry was cavernous, with a chandelier in the circular foyer. The flooring was white marble tile and dark wood, the walls white, the appointments in burnished silver. I stopped in the entry and tried to imagine entering and not being impressed.

  We walked through the house, and I barely heard Jan as he described the amenities. The rooms were large with high ceilings, the great room vaulted with floor to ceiling windows looking out over the back yard, which was three times as big as the house itself. The bathroom off the master bedroom was a work of art, all marble and gilded faucets, mirrors and tile. Besides a huge bathtub, there was a two-person shower, all glass and tile, with several showerheads of varying purposes. The vanity was dark wood and had dou
ble sinks.

  Double doors lead to a patio off the master that adjoined the patio off the great room. Beyond the patio was the swimming pool. I could imagine sitting on the patio in the morning after a swim, reading the papers and drinking my morning coffee.

  Jan showed us the other rooms, and Drake claimed the smallest one as his office and the third was allocated as the guest room. Finally, we entered a room almost as large as the master bedroom.

  "This could be your studio," Drake said, smiling indulgently at me. The room was filled with light and would be perfect for a studio. I already imagined where I'd set up my easel and table for my paints and supplies. The small powder room off the bedroom would be a great place to wash up after a painting session. A set of patio doors looked out over the lawn. There was a central green space separating the other huge houses, which were far enough away and shielded by trees and brush so that no one could look directly into the house or yard.

  Drake stood and watched me as I walked around. Jan remained back in the kitchen, speaking on his phone to check on our next appointment.

  "It's amazing," I said, standing in the center of the room.

  "It is, isn't it?" Drake said, excitement in his eyes. "So much better than the studio in Chelsea and that tiny room you had."

  I nodded. "I'd still want to get some studio space in the city," I said as I examined the closet. "Otherwise, I'll get really lonely with you gone all day."

  "Of course," he said, but I heard hesitation in his voice.

  I went to him and slid my arms around his waist. "You don't sound very certain."

  He shook his head and put his arms around my shoulders. He smiled lightly. "Of course I am. I can't keep you hidden away like some priceless jewel, now, can I? What kind of future-husband would I be? Typical masculine jealousy creeping in. Ignore it."

  He bent down to me, his kiss warm. Then he pulled me into an even tighter embrace, lifting me off my feet.

  "I can't wait for us to make one of these places our home. Buying groceries, cooking meals together, swimming in the pool, walking the streets, sleeping in late on the weekends. Using these rain shower stalls. I can think of a thousand things to do once we're moved in and all alone."