Strictly Yours: Hooded Pleasures, Book 3

by Sheryl Nantus

  She blinked away tears.

  What—

  The soft chime snapped her out of her introspection, signaling time was limited and she needed to slowly bring him back down.

  * * * * *

  Nathan flinched as he shifted position on the couch, his ass aching and sore. His shoulders burned, and he knew he’d see marks there for a day or two, the scarlet stripes hidden under his uniform shirt.

  He felt fantastic.

  His internal clock told him it was near the end of his session and he was coming down from his self-induced high, the endorphins slowly draining out of his system as they sat together on the sofa, both recovering.

  Except it wasn’t the same this time.

  Nathan eyed Danielle, afraid of how to approach the next topic. He’d dealt with angry drug dealers, enraged pimps and mile-high addicts. He’d stared down wild-eyed men prepared to shoot it out over a handful of dollars.

  Now he had to figure out how to ask a simple question.

  He’d never been so nervous in his entire life.

  “What is it?” Danielle tugged playfully at his hair. “You look—” She paused. “Are you okay? Is there anything wrong?”

  The concern in her voice almost stopped him. He was used to taking care of others, relieving their pain and suffering as much as he could with his badge so often that it felt odd being on the other side, being the one cared for.

  He knew she was asking if she’d done her job right, if he’d had the experience he had asked for and paid for.

  He also knew he was about to tread into the danger zone as far as their relationship went. It was supposed to be professional, the personal aspects of their lives left outside of this appointment.

  But he had to ask.

  “Just fine.” He patted her knee, relishing the feel of the sleek nylons. “I wanted to ask—” His mouth went dry as he tried to shift gears. “I want to ask—”

  She stroked his cheek. “Nathan. You should know by now you don’t need to be embarrassed about asking me anything. There’s nothing too kinky, too weird, too—”

  “I saw the way you acted upstairs, at the front door. What are you worried about?” The words tumbled out. “You looked out of sorts, you know. Like something had gotten under your skin, something you couldn’t get out.” He squeezed her thigh. “I’m a cop. You know that. If I can help you in any way…”

  “I’m fine.” Danielle rubbed her eyes. “A little tired, that’s all. Nothing I can’t deal with.” She smiled. “You’re not supposed to do cop stuff when you’re with me. Other than the role-play, and I’m the one wearing the badge.” Her finger poked him in the chest, tangling with his light chest hair. “Don’t worry about it.”

  He heard the words but knew her heart wasn’t in it.

  Pushing her wouldn’t do any good.

  Nathan took hold of her hand. “I may be your client, but I’d like to think we’re friends. I want you to know I’m always here for you if you need someone to talk to.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, he thought she was about to cry, the mental armor slipping long enough for him to see through it.

  Then Danielle was back in full force.

  She cleared her throat with a rough cough. “I have to leave soon. You need to rest. No more talking.” She patted the blanket over his shoulders. “Close your eyes and relax.”

  Nathan closed his eyes, catching the last bits of the emotional rush.

  Her words came through the haze. “But thank you.”

  Chapter Three

  She was angry and pissed off and in no mood to be driving.

  That didn’t stop her from heading along Lake Shore Boulevard in the left-hand lane, taking the fastest route home.

  The driver behind her honked his horn, probably upset she dared to go only ten miles over the speed limit.

  Jen threw up her middle finger in front of the rearview mirror, telling him exactly what she thought of his discomfort.

  He flashed by on her right with another blast and raced down the road.

  Asshole.

  Her mind flashed back to being on the couch with Nathan, his soft-spoken offer tearing down her defenses like they were wet tissue paper. It’d taken all her self-control to take control again and finish the session properly.

  You let Lucas in.

  You let the bastard into your mind, and look where it got you. Scared enough to alert Nathan something’s wrong in your life.

  It was her own damn fault.

  When she stepped out of her car at Nathan’s house, she had to be Danielle, the Domme he wanted and needed.

  Not Jennifer Lowell, worried about a possible danger coming back into her life.

  She thought she could keep the two worlds separate.

  Except Nathan had seen it in her eyes, the underlying fear digging into her heart and soul, invading everything she said and did.

  Including, obviously, her alter-ego life as a Dominatrix.

  None of her other clients had picked up on it during the past week. True, there was only Jake and Charles—she didn’t have as full a workload as some of Hooded Pleasures’ employees—but neither of them had caught on to the issues clouding her reality.

  She rubbed her hands on the black leather covering her steering wheel, the heater blasting as much hot air as she could get.

  This would not do.

  She couldn’t afford not to be at her best when dealing with her men. They deserved her devotion and dedication, not a half-assed effort. It wasn’t fair to them for her to be distracted by personal issues.

  Her mind coughed up logical arguments as it’d done for the past week.

  Tanner’s on parole.

  He wouldn’t dare try to contact you.

  He’s got bigger problems than you. Man’s got to rebuild his life, and he’s got to be looking forward, not backward.

  Jen recited the points over and over, feeling the grip on her heart slowly lessen.

  The logic helped her stay focused on driving, but it still nagged at the back of her mind.

  What if he hasn’t moved on?

  She drove by the parking lot entrance three times, circling her block as she looked around for anything, anyone out of place.

  * * * * *

  Nathan lay in the tub, indulging in one of his favorite post-session pastimes.

  The whiskey tasted wonderful. It was an expensive vice, one he reserved for special occasions.

  Like this.

  He took a sip from the glass in his left hand, thinking about Danielle. The bath salts had removed the worst of the sting from his ass and back, the flogging and spanking a delicious treat to his system. If he did it right, he’d feel no more aches and pains than if he’d gone to the gym for a hard workout session.

  Speaking of hard—

  Usually one of her visits left him grabbing at his cock as soon as she left, seeking that release he wasn’t allowed with her present. The rules made it even more addictive, the tension of holding back until the door closed behind her and the car left the driveway pushing his need to new heights.

  But this time he hadn’t been so much aroused as concerned.

  Curious.

  Worried.

  Those emotions had quieted his need for release, his sexual desire dampened by an overriding concern for his Domme.

  In the months he’d spent with Danielle, she’d always been careful not to bring anything into the session from outside. He knew it was part of the job—she couldn’t get emotionally involved with him. Kate had made that very clear during their time together. But there was a point when she’d arrived when Danielle had clocked out mentally, and it wasn’t because she was getting too turned on.

  She was worried about something, something she wasn’t able to put away for the brief visit with him
.

  There was something horrible nipping at her heels. He doubted anyone else would have caught on. Kate, the only Domme he’d had until Danielle, had been good at hiding her emotions, as she needed to be.

  But he was a cop.

  And he knew what fear looked like.

  He took another sip and rolled the smooth liquor around his mouth as he contemplated his options.

  Ask her?

  He already had. And she’d refused to tell him.

  Investigate on my own?

  Not possible. He didn’t know anything about Danielle other than that she came to his door once a week for their sessions. Hooded Pleasures wouldn’t give him any information—standard policy. It protected both of them from themselves, as it were.

  Sit and wait?

  He shifted in the tub, sending lukewarm water sloshing over the edges and onto the bath mat. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it’d have to do for now.

  Until she decided to talk to him, take him into her confidence.

  Nathan lifted the glass in front of him and studied the amber liquid.

  Danielle was one special lady.

  He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her if he could do anything about it.

  Nathan placed the glass on the floor and settled back into the water.

  He’d go from here to bed, sleep soundly until he had to get up and go back out that evening.

  He hoped his Domme would be able to do the same.

  * * * * *

  Jen looked around as she pulled into the parking lot again, a bit more attentive to her surroundings than before. The attendant waved and gave her a thumbs-up as she walked toward the elevator.

  The doorman at the front desk nodded as she passed by to check her mailbox.

  Nothing.

  Not even a letter from her mother.

  She went upstairs and locked the apartment door behind her before settling into her regular routine. Laundry, a light meal and coffee. Then a shower and into bed to rest up before getting ready for work.

  The familiar chores helped settle her, calm her down.

  Handwashing the corset made her smile as she remembered Nathan’s response to it.

  And that little trick with your age—

  Priceless.

  She knew Nathan was thirty-two years old.

  He did not know she was twenty-seven, putting five years between them.

  He didn’t have to know anything other than she was his Domme and to obey her.

  Jen laughed as she let the water out of the sink and prepared to roll the delicate clothing in a towel to dry it.

  She loved a man with a sense of humor. Another submissive might whine about being tricked, grumble about not getting what he wanted.

  Not Nathan.

  Jen forced herself to keep thinking about Nathan, about the enjoyment she’d had and had definitely given him.

  She was not going to let Lucas Tanner take over her life.

  She’d be damned if she let him occupy a moment more of her thoughts.

  Jen put the towel on the counter and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, reliving the conversation she’d had with her submissive over her age.

  Nathan had walked right into that trap.

  She giggled as she headed for the living room.

  Man like that, he should know better.

  She doubted he’d done it on purpose—she was usually pretty good on knowing when submissives were trying to control the scene.

  Topping from the bottom wasn’t Nathan’s style.

  The sweet memory of his shocked expression sent a jolt of heat down to her core.

  Such a handsome man.

  Such a—

  It didn’t take much for her imagination to take hold, running the scenario far beyond anything she’d done with the willing policeman.

  Nathan knelt at her feet, eyes down.

  Waiting for instruction.

  Jen leaned back on the couch. She stretched out her left leg and wedged her foot between his knees, prying his knees apart.

  He grunted as he shuffled to accommodate her, hands dutifully behind his back.

  The shoes were expensive, black leather bands crisscrossing her entire foot and partially up the ankle.

  The cost was worth it to see the desire in his eyes.

  Jen moved her right foot between his legs, gently pressing in.

  He stayed silent, but his flagging cock sprang to attention, struggling against the solid shoe.

  She rubbed it back and forth, reveling in the groans and gasps escaping as he tried to stay still, tried to maintain control.

  Nathan was a shoe man.

  Time to give him something to work with.

  “My feet are sore.” She retracted her right foot to wave the black straps in his face. “I need a foot rub. Get to work.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” The slow rumble reached her ears as he pulled his hands around to caress the soft skin.

  Jen sighed as he carefully undid the buckle and pulled the straps free, exposing her foot. He bent over and kissed the soft skin, his lips skimming over the surface until he sat up again.

  His strong hands massaged, caressed, fondled her bare skin until she was at the point of—

  That’s enough, her imagination warned. Enough walking on the wild side for now.

  Jen opened her eyes.

  Sometimes it was the little things that were the sexiest. Foot rubs, making dinner, picking up the laundry.

  Sometimes she didn’t like being alone so much.

  She put her coffee down and picked up the cloth wraps from the table.

  Time for some stress relief.

  It wasn’t usually part of her morning routine, but right now it seemed like the best way to relax. It was either this or grabbing the vibrator out of her bedside table and this appealed more to her at present.

  Mentally she put Nathan into a box and set him on the shelf, putting him aside for the time being.

  Love you to death, but I can’t think about you all the time.

  She changed into her workout clothing and set about working the punching bag, feeling the power in her hands every time she slapped the leather.

  Not as good as sex.

  But it’ll have to do.

  Jen grinned as she landed another right hook.

  * * * * *

  The streets were quiet tonight. Nathan would have said too quiet, but that would have tempted fate, and right now he didn’t want any bad luck.

  The world could spin on a dime, and he’d land flat on his ass the way his mind was everywhere—except on the job.

  Nathan glanced at the young man in the seat beside him sipping from a disposable cup.

  McDaniels was a quick learner, a smart man who would go far if he wanted to.

  He also didn’t mind picking up the tab for coffee every now and then, which made him a great partner.

  They were sitting in the parking lot of the same convenience store they’d visited earlier in the week.

  “This isn’t half-bad.” McDaniels looked over at Nathan. “Once you add a shit ton of sugar and creamer.”

  “And hold your nose,” Nathan added. He looked into his own thick drink. “Put hair on your chest.”

  “I’ve got enough, thank you very much.” The young man motioned at the nearby empty street corner. “It seems your idea worked.”

  “At least for now.” Nathan grimaced as he took another mouthful. “Not a perfect world, but we do what we can.”

  “I was telling Allie about this. She approved your idea,” Henry said.

  Nathan laughed. “I’m glad to hear it. Anything else we need to run by your wife?”

  Henry’s face went red. “Don’t be giving me a hard time. I talk to her about stuff like th
is.”

  “I’m not.” Nathan took another sip and grimaced. “This job gets to be hard at times, and it’s good to have someone on your side, someone you can chat to.”

  The rookie looked over. “You got no ring on. Someone special in your life?”

  “Never found the right lady. Don’t get me wrong—I’ve had quite the dance card.” Nathan chuckled. “Just not lucky enough to find the right one yet.”

  He wasn’t going to tell Henry about the near-misses, the women he’d dated who had been good in bed and wonderful to be with.

  Because, without fail, as soon as he mentioned his rather unusual wishes, they’d found a reason to cut and run. Some did so on good terms, with a smile and a wish for his good future, and others had laughed and walked out the door.

  It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy sex.

  He just liked to add stripes to the vanilla.

  Henry shrugged. “Can’t ask for more than that.”

  I can. I do.

  Nathan took another swig of coffee and thought for the umpteenth time about Danielle.

  She was worried about something, and he wanted to help her.

  Because she was his Mistress.

  Because he cared about her.

  Probably more than a client should.

  But he wasn’t going to apologize for being who he was.

  And he had the power and the ability to help.

  He couldn’t stand by and let this continue.

  He had to figure out how to get her to tell him what the hell was going on.

  Nathan glanced at Henry, engrossed in drinking his coffee.

  Protect and serve.

  It wasn’t just a motto painted on the side of his car.

  Chapter Four

  Jen hadn’t thought about Lucas for days. To be more accurate, she didn’t have the time to think about him. Between the local flu outbreak that had filled the clinic with nonstop requests for inoculations and another employee booking off sick and giving her double shifts for most of the week, she had barely been able to make her appointments with her Hooded Pleasure clients.

  Those she wouldn’t have missed for the world.

  Jake and Charles were wonderful men, excellent fellows and lovely submissives. They deserved her attention and her devotion, and she was glad to give it to them, accept their gift and return it with interest.