Smooth plastic met his fingertips and he pulled the cell phone out of the purse, checking the caller ID.
Hayden Thorne. Wes Thorne’s little sister.
“Figures,” he muttered darkly.
He swiped a thumb over the glossy surface of the phone to answer. “Ms. Thorne, I should’ve known you’d be involved.”
“Emery, where the hell is Sophie?” Hayden demanded. “You didn’t do anything to her, did you? Sophie better not be locked up in some dungeon or I’ll kick your ass!”
Emery didn’t feel the least bit threatened. Hayden was around Sophie’s age, but she wasn’t frightened of him, had never been. It was one of her few failings. But given she was concerned about Sophie, he’d forgive her.
Emery shot a glance at the woman in his bed and found he was almost smiling.
“I suppose I have you to thank for my new little submissive? She did very well last night at the club.”
Silence on the other end stretched for several moments. Then Hayden said, “She doesn’t know the rules, Emery. I didn’t think she’d actually get your attention. I told her you never take women home.”
Accusation weighted each word. Hayden had a temper, and Emery couldn’t wait to see the man who’d someday take the pleasure in disciplining her temper and turning her aggression toward passion.
“People can change, Ms. Thorne. Ask your brother.”
“Leave Wes out of this,” she snapped.
He did his best not to laugh, but she was feisty attitude always amused him. It was too much fun.
“So I shouldn’t tell Wes you recently purchased a membership at the Gilded Cuff? He was there last night with his sub Corrine.”
Hayden took the bait. “Don’t you dare tell him!”
“Are you threatening me?”
A soft inhalation on the other end of the line made him chuckle.
“Your new friend is here. Safe and sound, sleeping in my bed at this very moment. I’m not following the rulebook too closely. I know she’s innocent of the ways of a true D/s relationship. I’m just giving her a taste and taking some pleasure of my own.”
“Promise me you’ll be good to her, Emery. I like this girl. She’s different. You hurt her and I don’t care who you are; I’ll take you down. Doesn’t matter to me if you are my brother’s best friend. Got it?”
Emery was momentarily distracted by the sight of Sophie’s restless turning in bed, the covers sliding over her body beneath the sheets. His groin tightened in anticipation.
“I got you, Hayden. As long as she’s here, she’s safe. But she has agreed to be my submissive. So if you interfere, we’ll have a problem.”
Hayden sighed. “Fine, deal. And you can’t tell Wes about me joining the club.”
The line went dead before he could say a word. He was getting ready to slide it back into her purse when it rang again. He didn’t bother to look at the caller ID again, thinking it had to be Hayden. He answered it but before he could speak a woman started talking.
“Sophie, thank God. I hadn’t heard from you all night. How did the club go? Did you find Lockwood and get him to agree to the exclusive interview?”
The phone cracked in Emery’s hold as he squeezed it. He didn’t say a word.
“Hello? Sophie? I know you don’t like me calling when you’re facing deadlines, but the paper can only give you a week. I told you that when you begged me for this story. If you can’t get the Lockwood interview, it’s done. You’ll need to move on to a new subject if you want your next paycheck. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it’s got to be,” the woman said.
“Don’t worry. Ms. Ryder will get you an exclusive interview.” He didn’t care that his tone was cold enough to frost the entire island. He didn’t give the woman a chance to respond. He hung up on her, then put the phone’s ringer on silent and returned it to Sophie’s purse.
His rebellious little reporter, determined to expose him. And he, the fool, was so hungry for her that he’d bargained his story for her surrender. Like a wolf lured by a hint of a crimson cloaked girl in the woods, he was desperate to devour her innocence. So he’d bargained for her. His story, her surrender. Only, she wasn’t just surrendering her body; she was giving him something else, something softer yet stronger. Intangible. He could almost feel it curling around his cold heart, trying to warm him. Every survival instinct he had warned him to stay away. Even if she dared to fall for him, he’d not suffer the same mistake. He could and would remain distant. He would take his pleasure, slake his lust, and teach her to open herself up to the realm of passion she’d denied herself, but he would not go further.
He picked his watch up from the nightstand and checked the time. Nine a.m. He had two hours before the Board of Lockwood Industries arrived. They had their primary offices in Manhattan, but Emery rarely visited them and worked almost entirely from his home office at the house in Weston. He grabbed his own cell and called Hans.
“Yes sir?”
“Schedule my jet to pick up the LI board from and fly them out here by eleven. Order our usual catering service to prepare a light brunch and have it delivered in time for the meeting. I need you to run an errand in town for me, too. Sophie needs some clothes. I’ll text you her measurements and the shop I want you to visit. Oh, and wake Cody up. I want to see him in my office at ten to eleven with two tennis rackets.”
Hans’s laugh echoed over the phone. “Let me guess: he’s going to keep Ms. Ryder occupied while you handle the board?”
“Something like that.” Emery couldn’t believe he was smiling again. In the past few hours he’d smiled more, laughed more than he had in years. He’d also worried more. It was one thing to have anxiety over yourself when you’d been kidnapped before. But Sophie? The thought of anyone getting their hands on her…taking her away. His lungs exploded with pain, and he gasped for a quick breath. It would be fine. He’d protect her. She was safe. Safe. And she would be even safer in his bed. His worries vanished as thoughts of Sophie—warm, wet and waiting for him—took over. Emery’s cock was suddenly hard enough that if he’d had her body under him at that moment he would have pounded her until the bed broke beneath them.
“I’ll schedule the flight for the board.” Hans hung up.
Emery set his phone on the nightstand and opened the drawer. It was time to start showing Sophie how to be submissive. The first lesson was about understanding who she belonged to. Inside the drawer a pair of delicate gilded cuff bracelets, perfect for Sophie’s wrists, lay nestled on a black velvet cloth. He’d had the cuffs for a couple of years, hoping someday to have a woman to give them to. Yet, not a single woman he’d met before now had seemed…worthy of them.
He didn’t really delve much into the D/s lifestyle. He didn’t spend hours lecturing his subs on proper postures, or punish them for small things. For him, the true allure was control of a woman in bed. He never wanted to see Sophie bow her head to him when they were outside of it. He wanted her fiery, rebellious, completely free, save for those gold cuffs. Those had to be around her wrists. Proof to the world of his possession.
As though somehow aware of his thoughts, Sophie stretched, murmured something, and nuzzled her pillow. She didn’t wake up even as he knelt next to her on the bed, brushed the hair back from her face, and peeled back the covers. He positioned one gold collar around her right wrist and clicked the clasp shut. Longing and hunger grasped hold of him. He clicked the second cuff around her left wrist. Fire licked at his veins, and an ache tore through his chest. The sight of the gold around her skin, marking her as his, was too much.
He put his knees on either side of her hips, keeping her pinned beneath the sheets. Sophie woke just as he grasped her wrists and moved them up by her ears.
“Emery, what—”
He took her mouth hard. She gasped against his lips, wriggling, but she couldn’t move much. Her arm muscles tensed beneath his hands as she pushed, and then went limp. Sophie sighed into him, kissing him back. Her momentary struggle and
surrender made him tense with the prolonged desire to claim her. She’d released her death grip on her mistrust and given him the submission he craved. The soft silk of her hair spilled out over the pillow, strands tickling the backs of his palms like condensed sunlight. Her plump, satin lips were perfect for kissing. So damned perfect.
Emery ground his hips into hers, trying to soothe his cock, which was so stiff it was ready to punch through his pants. He slid his hands up to her wrists then connected his palms to hers. She responded, lacing her fingers through his, squeezing gently. His throat tightened and his eyes burned.
The simple connection—so sweet, so innocent—bound him to her, like a shimmering web spun between them, unbreakable and inescapable. He lifted his head a few inches, needing to see her eyes.
They were luminous, her lashes at half-mast. He was lost. A world of unimaginable beauty existed in the crescent silver of her dreamy gaze. He felt like a man from the ancient world, gazing north at the distant star Polaris, finding his way home by the loyal light that shone there. She saw him, every part of her, her light penetrating the shadows stretching out from his soul. He was open, laid bare before her, a man prostrate before a goddess.
Completely and totally vulnerable.
A tremble racked his shoulders, his muscles clenching and tensing. Then pleasure swept through him. He was in control of this luscious, precious woman. He could take her, give her such ecstasy she’d never recover.
Sophie licked her lips, her breath slightly uneven.
“You have to stop doing that,” she whispered in all seriousness, her nose wrinkling just a little.
He cocked a brow. “Doing what?”
“Kissing me like that.”
“You don’t like the way I kiss?” Her body told him otherwise as he shifted above her, the movement pressing his groin into hers. She raised her hips, seeking him, but the sheet and their clothes kept them worlds apart.
“I like it too much. That’s the problem.”
He rolled his hips again, reveling in the little hiss of frustration she made.
“What else do you like too much?” He dropped his head to her neck and nibbled on the underside of her throat. She shook slightly, her pulse leaping beneath his tongue. She was incredibly responsive and her inexperience made her reactions raw and pure. It was perfect. She was perfect.
“That. That’s definitely too good.” Her response was barely more than a breathless rush of words.
“Good. My sub has pleased me with her honest responses. You’ve earned a reward.” He eased off her and lay down beside her on the bed.
Sophie’s hands fluttered to her wrists, making contact with the gold cuffs.
“What are these?”
“Cuffs.”
Sophie’s lips twitched, even as she narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, I can see that. Why’d you put them on me?”
He propped himself up on one elbow and drew a finger along the sensitive skin of her inner right wrist by the cuff.
“It’s part of our bargain. The cuffs remind you that you are mine.”
“Okay, so what’s my reward for allowing this?”
“You didn’t allow it, Sophie. You surrendered to it. Never think being a submissive is about allowing your dom to do something. You surrender. You give me your power.” Emery cupped her face and held her gaze, forcing her to confront his domination and accept it.
Her eyes—still wild, still free—darkened like a waning moon. “I surrender.”
His smile was instant and overpowering. He couldn’t have stopped it from happening. The promise of pleasure was there, in her gaze and his body. Sophie returned his smile.
“Now, your reward is to play tennis with Cody while I have a business meeting. I want you to get good and tired for later. Tired subs are less rebellious.”
The look she gave him would have melted metal. “Oh yeah? Good to know.” Sophie slipped free of him and caught sight of her luggage. A little squeal of joy escaped her lips as she darted over to it and began pulling items out. His eyes locked on the sight of her bottom as she bent over to dig through her suitcase.
Emery swallowed hard as desire struck a vibrant cord in him—pure, hard and ravenous to lay his hand to her bottom, to get her off on the faintest edge of pain.
“I can’t wait to take a shower.” She padded over to his bathroom. He should have let her clean up, but the desire to get his hands on her bottom was a siren call impossible to resist.
“Stop.”
She froze, one bare foot on the marble bathroom floor, the other in the thick bedroom carpet.
He rose and crossed his arms, enjoying this far too much.
“Come here. Now.” He pointed to the edge of his bed and tapped one foot.
She crept over, looking suspicious, and rightly so. He had every intention of spanking her.
“Bend over the bed.” He pointed a finger at the spot he wished her to be.
Protest and outrage flashed in her lovely eyes, but she did as he commanded.
“Hands flat on the bed by your head. Good girl. Now, when you wish to ask me something and we’re alone, you first acknowledge our relationship by addressing me as ‘Sir’. For example, ‘may I use your shower, Sir?’ To which I reply, ‘yes you may.’ Because you are new to this, only five pats. Count them for me or I will start over. When I’m done, you will thank me for your punishment.”
A heartbeat of silence, then, “Yes, Sir.”
He was tempted to pull her boxers down, to feel satiny skin beneath his palm, but she wasn’t ready for that. He put his hand on her, and she tensed. Then he swung his hand down on her bottom. He didn’t strike hard at all, just gave her a little sting. He caressed each spot he struck, letting her count the gentle blows with trembling pants. When he reached five he smoothed his hand over her, delighted to feel her heated skin through the thin cotton of the boxers.
Was she ready for more? He moved his hand down between her legs and cupped her mound, pressing the heel of his palm against the soft fabric. Wetness seared him through the thin cloth. Sophie whimpered and jolted when he found her swollen clit and circled it with his index finger. The hardened bud of her arousal called to him, lured him, promising sweet release inside her body. But he couldn’t take her yet; she wasn’t ready for his type of sex—for the raw, savage need that blazed inside him like a wildfire devouring a dry forest.
“Take your pleasure. Push back, ride my hand.” His voice scraped over his throat, almost guttural as he tried to rein in his own hunger.
She needed little urging to circle her hips, rubbing against his hand. She found a rhythm and when she came, it was with a strangled gasp as she buried her face in the comforter on the bed.
“Th-thank you, Sir.” It was so quiet and muffled by the bed that he thought he might have imagined it. As though she was startled by the fact that she’d climaxed.
Emery’s hand tingled as he stroked her soothingly. “There will be times, Sophie, when I punish you. I won’t ever mark you, or hurt you. A slight taste of pain can heighten pleasure. Never think I mean to harm you. Do you understand? Sometimes a spanking isn’t about punishment, but about pleasure.”
It was crucial that she understood. He didn’t indulge enough in the lifestyle to have many rules or expectations. He didn’t want her cowering, head bowed. But he did want her to give up herself to him, for the pleasure they could share. If she could understand that, they would get along well.
“Yes, I understand.” Sophie shifted, her bottom rolling restlessly beneath his touch.
He removed his hand and stepped back, focusing on breathing through his nose. He was so hard he could barely walk, but he had to see to her first. Helping her to stand on shaking legs, he led her to his shower. He gave her everything she needed to bathe and with a quick, rough kiss, left her alone.
The second he shut his bedroom door he leaned back against it, drawing in slow, deep breaths. His hands were shaking, his body tense and aching to finish what he’d started. Neve
r before had a woman’s body been so alluring, so irresistible, as Sophie’s had. Her passion had unfurled like petals seeking the sun, all at the right pats and strokes from his hands, as though she were made for him.
Emery attempted to focus on the LI board as he dressed and left his room, on what he’d need to talk to them about, and how he’d handle Brant if his cousin decided to make trouble with the press release issue. But his thoughts continued to stray back to the woman he’d left behind. He wished thoughts of business would kill his sexual hunger for Sophie. But they didn’t. She was on his mind, her scent on his skin, her cries of release still ringing in his ears. He wanted nothing more than to walk back into his room, drag Sophie into his arms and topple them both onto the bed. And that need, that ache to be with her and forget the rest of the world was the worst thing he could give in to.
The last person he’d dared to be close to had been his twin.
Fenn.
And he was gone. Everyone he cared about had left him. His parents had abandoned their family estate after Emery escaped and came home. They’d left the last place his brother and he had been together. Their leaving was a betrayal, one that cut soul deep. He’d been too young to argue when they’d made him go with them to their new home, but after college he’d moved back to the house by himself. It was so easy to hide away from the world, but it was lonely, so damn lonely. But better to stay here, protected and alone, than out there in the world losing everyone he cared about.
He shouldn’t have given in to his need to bring Sophie here.
Emery couldn’t allow himself to be so foolish with Sophie. She’d leave, and he’d be alone again, too afraid to go out into the world to be with her. Doomed always to be alone.
My penance, Fenn’s sacrifice. His life for mine. Always.
Chapter 8
MIRANDA AND ELLIOT LOCKWOOD HAVE OFFERED A $50,000 REWARD FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT WILL LEAD TO THE RETURN OF THEIR GOLDEN-HAIRED SONS. PICTURES OF THE MISSING CHILDREN HAVE BEEN INCLUDED WITH THIS ARTICLE IN HOPES THAT SOME READER WILL HAVE SEEN THE TWINS AND THAT SUCH INFORMATION WILL LEAD TO THEIR SAFE AND SPEEDY RECOVERY.
The Gilded Cuff Page 11
