by Qwillia Rain
Triss waited for Jynn to look at her before answering. “And I’m afraid, if I don’t do this, Jynn, I will regret it for the rest of my life.”
Her friend’s shoulders lifted and fell in long, heavy sigh. “I know. I know.”
The stirrings of unease tried to take root, but Triss wouldn’t allow it. She’d made a choice and she was going to stick to it. No matter what the consequences.
Chapter Eight
“How do you know if a woman is interested in submission or if it’s just a game to her?” The question slipped out before Vince realized he would ask it.
Across from him, Garrick choked on the swallow of beer he’d just taken and George set his bottle down on the table. Of all the men he knew, these two were the only ones who knew how involved he was in the BDSM lifestyle.
“Warn me before you go asking shit like that,” Garrick coughed as he regained the ability to breathe.
“Considering your relationship with Gina, I didn’t think it would be all that surprising,” Vince retorted.
George interrupted the blustering before it could escalate. “Does this have something to do with the paisley journal?”
No sense in lying. “Yes.”
Garrick leaned forward in his chair, “Do tell. What’s her name?”
“Triss Long.”
“You mean that gal that’s been cleaning the condos? The one who always scurries away when you get too close?”
George remarked, “The woman you call ‘Treats’.”
Vince chuckled. “Yes, yes, and yes.” He waited while both men watched him. It was a sure thing that they’d have some kind of advice for him, they always had.
“When you get around to sharing her, are you going to talk to Aaron, Elkin, or Terry? Or will you invite all three?” George asked.
Vince almost exploded out of his chair. No way in hell was he going to invite another man to taste his Treats. “Hell no. She’s mine.” The second he forced himself to calm down, he immediately understood why George had mentioned the other three men who’d been there that weekend with Gina nearly five years ago. “Bastard,” he muttered.
George only grinned. “You used to like to share.”
“Not this time. Every delectable inch belongs to me.”
“Does she know that?” Garrick asked.
“Not yet, but she’s new to everything.” Vince winced internally the second he finished his sentence. The expression in his friends’ eyes assured him they’d correctly interpreted his words.
Garrick gave a low whistle. “A virgin? Damn man, you have guts.”
Although Vince was pretty sure he could guess what the other men were thinking, he’d rather know for a fact that he wasn’t the only man who felt uneasy about being a woman’s first lover. “How’s that?”
“A very tricky thing dealing with someone who’s never had sex before,” George elaborated. “The intimacy. The physical issues. Even the emotional bits give me the heebie jeebies. I sure as hell avoided it most of my life.”
Despite the events on the weekend when he’d met George and Garrick’s wife there had always been something about her that made him think she wasn’t very experienced. “What about Gina?”
George shook his head. “Remember I once mentioned her lame-ass boyfriend before we got together. Only her ass was untouched and lord have mercy, I loved breaking her in. That particular cherry I didn’t mind taking care of when I was single.”
Vince shook his head. “Your wife would smack you one good, if she could hear you.”
Garrick smirked. “Nah, she loves us. And she knows us. Besides, George always tells her how hot it is that her ass was virgin before he got to her.”
That conjured images of Treats, her soft round bottom lifted, waiting for his attention. The low laughter from his friends brought his head up and the knowing looks in their eyes was enough to make him grimace. “Am I that obvious?”
“Only to men who’ve been there. Just make sure you take it slow. Give her a day or two to get used to a plug before you try sticking that cock of yours up her ass.” George advised him.
“And make sure she comes a few times before and after.” Garrick added.
“Climaxing is the least of my problems,” Vince admitted.
“You or her?”
Vince glowered at both men. “No comment.”
“I take it the question about the lifestyle is related to her?” George reasoned.
“Yeah. I’ve told her the rules I use and we’ve talked about the BDSM world, mainly for research for her books.”
“Books?” Garrick asked. “You mean instructional manuals?”
Vince shook his head. He took a sip of his beer, but he couldn’t fight the grin at the thought of his friends’ reactions. “No. She writes romance novels. Erotic ones. Very hot.”
George gave the impression he was chewing on an idea. He gazed off into space, his brow furrowed, and his mouth set in a firm, straight line. “Triss Long.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
After several seconds of silence George laughed. “Oh man, that’s rich.”
Garrick slugged George in the shoulder. “So let us in on the joke.”
“If she’s the same Triss Long I think she is, you have your work cut out for you,” George warned him.
Vince couldn’t hide his disbelief. George was one of the last guys he’d ever expect to read romance novels. “You’ve read her?”
“You have?” Garrick seemed equally amazed.
George nodded. “You have, too.”
Garrick started to deny it, then paused. “Not the one Gina --” When George smiled, Garrick turned to look at Vince. “I don’t know if I should congratulate you or offer condolences.”
“Go with the condolences, because figuring her out is gonna kill me.” Vince grumbled into his beer.
“You want her to play but she isn’t interested?” George ventured.
“She’s interested.”
Garrick spoke next. “How long have you been seeing each other? Are you easing her into it?”
“If you mean dating, we haven’t. Other than sexy phone calls for the past six months, last night was the first time she’s allowed me into her apartment. And there wasn’t much conversation after we closed the door.” Vince dropped back against his seat. “You used to say Gina submits without thinking about it. Treats submits without thinking about it, too. Up to a point. Once the fog clears, she pokers up like a steel rod’s been stapled to her spine.
“One minute to the next, I don’t know what the hell to expect from her. With the others who’ve been in the life, I know to predict reactions. Treats, her natural inclination is to submit to my directions, but she doesn’t like it once she realizes what she’s done.”
Garrick betrayed his concern. “Does she get bitchy and go off on you about it?”
Vince shook his head.
“She goes quiet and stiff.” George predicted.
“Yeah. It’s like she hates herself for finding pleasure that way.”
“But she doesn’t blame you.”
“No.” He hesitated to say more, but George seemed to know what he was thinking.
“You don’t like how she directs the anger at herself.”
“Exactly.”
Garrick chuckled. “Are you sure what she’s doing is natural? Having seen you in action, I know when you go all big dawg, the ladies eat it up and play along.”
Vince had wondered that himself. Ego aside, he was proud of his reputation as a strong dominant. After re-reading a few of the scenes Treats had scribbled in the journal he’d found, he was more than sure her reaction was based on natural behaviors than falling into a role to please him. “No, I don’t think she’s indulging me.”
“About all you can do is show her what she feels and how she reacts isn’t something to hate or be embarrassed about,” Garrick suggested.
“I agree with Gare. Get her to see that it doesn’t reduce her strength or indepen
dence.”
“How?”
“I’d be inclined to say talk to her about it,” George started.
Garrick rolled his eyes. “Women love that shit. Sharing your feelings. Blah. Blah. Blah.”
“But talking isn’t going to do it.” George continued. “She’ll probably need to see and feel the difference between vanilla and kink. How what she had before didn’t work for her.”
Vince snorted. “Did you forget the part about her being a virgin?”
George sipped his beer. “Nope, but you seemed to have missed that fact. Unless she’s got one eyebrow, a mustache, a hunched back and a face that would send children screaming out of the room --”
“The woman is hot. Shy, but stacked. And soft,” Vince jumped to her defense.
“Then your Treats has had ample opportunity to bed down with some guy long before you showed up.”
He thought of any guy with Triss made him grip his beer bottle a bit tighter. The idea that one of them would dare touch her… nuh uh, not going there. He tried to argue against George’s logic. “Not necessarily. Could mean she has discriminating taste.”
“If you went from ‘hi’ to multiple orgasms in less than a day, then I’d say your approach rather than your good looks and conversation got her attention.” George finished his beer and eased out of the booth. “Read her journal. Figure out what makes her tick and use it for all it’s worth. Show her why she chose you. Then make her admit it to herself.”
Garrick followed George, then paused after the older man headed to the bar to pay the tab. “When Gina was thinking about leaving us, you told me to get my head out of my ass and face what I feared.”
He remembered that conversation. Vince nodded and waited for Garrick to continue.
“She’s got to do that. Face what scares her. Be prepared for her to refuse.”
The varied scenarios swam through his mind. “And if she does? Do I force her? Push the subject?”
“Is she important to you or just another lay?”
Vince bristled at the implication, then relaxed when he realized the purpose of the question. “She’s important.”
“Do you think she feels the same about you?”
Instinct said she did, but he’d need to spend more time with her to confirm it. Vince shrugged, “I think so after last night.”
Garrick nodded, seeming to understand. “Then be willing to walk away. Take away the one thing she cares about most if she balks.”
Vince watched Garrick join George and leave the bar. The place was beginning to fill up. The quiet background noise of the jukebox increased in volume as more people came through the door.
He finished his beer and set it on the table. A wave from the bartender told him George had settled the full tab. He dropped some money on the table for the barmaid and headed out. A quick glance at his watch reminded him Treats would expect him at her apartment in two hours. Between now and then he had some thinking to do.
A window display in one of the shops nearby caught his attention. A plan began to form. Despite the advice from his friends about taking things slow, something inside warned him that slow would only keep Triss from admitting to who she really was.
Worse, the longer he took, the more invested he’d become in the relationship. If Triss chose not to accept the submissive within her, there was a definite likelihood Vince could get burned. He hated the thought of not having Triss wearing his collar, submitting to him, sharing his bed and this only after one night with her. How hard would it be on him if she waited weeks before walking away?
No, he’d have to push and move fast, otherwise Triss would dig in her heels and never face the truth about her submissive nature.
On the sidewalk outside the shop, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed.
Triss sounded breathless. “Hello.”
“Did I catch you at a bad time, Treats?”
The rustling of plastic and thud of heavy items being set down came through the phone. “No. Not a bad time. I just got in as it began to rain, so I was hurrying to get upstairs.”
Until she mentioned it, Vince hadn’t noticed the light drizzle falling. “Have you had dinner?”
“No. I was going to make something for us.”
“Don’t. I’ll pick something up. That way, if we get distracted, we can nuke it later.” He smiled at the thought of the blush warming her cheeks. He had every intention of distracting her, several times when he arrived at her apartment.
“Oh. Um. Okay.”
Damn, even the touch of embarrassed excitement in her voice made him hard. “Chinese, Japanese, Thai, or Italian?” He named the types of restaurants between where he stood and her apartment.
“Thai. I’ve been dying for some fresh spring rolls and coconut-pineapple rice for days.”
“Shrimp or vegetable?”
“For the spring rolls, both. For the rice, chicken or pork. No shrimp.”
“Anything else?”
The sound of a cabinet door closing came over the line. “No, that’s enough.”
He gazed through the door of the lingerie shop. “Do you have any stockings? The type that come up to your thighs?”
There was a long pause. “Yes.” Her breath came a bit faster. He could hear it.
“Black?”
“Yes.”
“After your shower, put them on for me, pet. No panties, no bra. Only a shirt. One of the big ones you used to wear to bed.”
A soft moan whispered over the phone before she replied. “Oh-- okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, Master.”
“Very good, Treats. Remember, no coming without permission. And don’t put the shirt on until I knock on your door.”
“Yes, Master.”
“I’ll call you when I leave the restaurant. When I do, I want you to use an ice cube on your nipples. Get them nice and hard, then put the clips we used last night on them.” The image of her naked, waiting for him, the silver clips on her nipples sent heat through his groin, stirring his dick to life.
The moan was a little louder. “Yes, Master.”
“And, pet.” He dropped his tone, kept it soft so only she could hear it over the phone. “When your pussy gets so hot and wet your cream smears your thighs, don’t wipe it off.”
The catch of her breath, that soft gasp, brought a smile to his lips. “Save it for me, Treats. Understood?”
“Understood, Master.”
“I’ll be there in an hour. Ninety minutes at the most.”
“Yes, Master. I’ll be waiting.”
Vince hung up and stepped into the shop. There were a few things he needed to get for his woman before he stopped for dinner.
Chapter Nine
Logic argued that she was allowing him to objectify her. Turn her into a plaything for his amusement. That the situation went against everything she’d worked so hard to achieve. Independence. Self-sufficiency. Respect. All the things society issued as requirements for equality between the sexes. Allowing Vince to direct her, to pull her strings like a puppet master with a marionette was tantamount to betraying who society said she was and what she should stand for as a modern woman. Not to mention how horrified her mama would be if she knew the wicked things her only daughter was thinking of doing.
Instinct sent a particularly nasty hand gesture toward logic. If there was one thing she’d done all her life, it was listen to logic. And where had it gotten her? Frustrated and alone. Bored so much by the men she dated that she’d worn out three battery-operated boyfriends. Besides, there was something freeing about letting Vince take control.
The conversation with Jynn filtered to the surface of her thoughts. There was no denying that what she felt for Vince could easily escalate into more than infatuation. With the way he knew how to touch her, make her body respond, she already wanted more. Where was the harm in that?
Yes, it would be foolish if she spent too much time with the man and found herself wanting it all. T
he whole hearts and flowers, rings and vows. Everything. Especially considering the number of women she’d seen flit in and out of his life. She seriously doubted commitment was high on his list of priorities. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t benefit from the next few weeks exploring what he could teach her about BDSM.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she snapped, tugging her tee shirt over her head and stepping into the bathroom. Fed up with the mental gyrations, she grumbled, “It’s just sex. Fun, kinky sex. I should stop over analyzing it and simply enjoy the ride while it lasts.”
Determined to maintain that mindset, Triss turned on the shower and moved under the spray. She refused to acknowledge the sad little sigh deep inside at the thought of Vince’s walking away. Forever wasn’t going to happen. Not between a man as driven and dominant at Vince and a woman as independent as she.
Two hours later, all thoughts of logic and reason deserted her. Desperate to climax, she writhed on her sheets, body aching, hot, and wet. “Please. Master. I -- ahhh -- I have to come.”
Vince lifted his head, his mouth and chin coated in her cream, the blue of his eyes like brilliant lasers searing her belly and breasts. He shook his head and returned his attention to her pussy. “Not yet,” he growled.
The vibrations of his voice over her clit pushed her higher, the coil of heat and need had passed unbearable minutes after he walked into her apartment. Nearly an hour of him eating her, fucking his fingers and tongue into her, kept her teetering on the edge. She’d never felt this aroused, this desperate. And she couldn’t even touch him. The stockings he’d ordered her to wear bound her arms to the bedposts above her head. The shirt and stilettos she’d worn to greet him at the door were on the hall floor, tangled in the mess of his hastily discarded suit, shoes, and underclothes. The sacks holding dinner cooled on the kitchen table, the nipple clamps he’d removed after stripping off her shirt, tossed next to the bags.
