Jennifer.
Nathan’s head spun as he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, his imagination filling the room around them with the sights and sounds of the BDSM club he’d never be able to go to. He saw in his mind’s eye the audience witnessing his submission to this woman who owned him heart and soul.
She tasted of mint.
He raised his hands and brushed the bottom of her corset, tangled his fingers in the soft lace. A light tug brought a gasp from her, one he swallowed up like a greedy little boy with his first piece of candy.
Mine.
It lasted only a second before she vanished from his touch.
Nathan licked his lips, waiting for his punishment.
So worth it.
Silence.
The blindfold slid off, and he squinted against the bright lights.
Jennifer stood there with her hands on her hips, frowning. Her cheeks were flushed, and he could swear she was breathing heavily. Her lips were swollen, and for a second, he thought about moving forward again to seal the deal.
He paused and lost the advantage of surprise.
Instead, he smiled, wallowing in the victory.
“Bad boy.” She reached out and smacked him across the face, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to let him know her displeasure. “Go sit down on the couch.”
He went and did so, his hands still bound.
She ignored him for ten minutes as he waited on the couch, horribly aroused and unable to do anything about it. He shifted his hands from one knee to the other, unable to let them fall naturally between his legs because it’d only heighten his desire and she’d throw a fit if he started stroking himself in front of her.
He’d pushed her enough already.
Nathan licked his lips, tasting mint.
Jen put all of the toys away before returning to stand in front of him, scowling.
It took the last of his self-control to not lunge for her, reach out with his tied hands and pull her into his lap.
She’d worn a familiar outfit for this visit, the black-and-dark-green corset matching the garters and black nylons perfectly. The high-heeled shoes were sitting beside the couch near the pink backpack.
He couldn’t stop grinning.
“Smart-ass.” She wagged her finger at him. “I should paddle your ass until you can’t sit down.”
He raised an eyebrow, silently asking why she wasn’t.
“There’s no time for it. To do it properly, I mean. I don’t want to do a half-assed job, excuse the pun.” The words came out in a jumbled mess. She sat next to him and worked the knots free from his wrists, her fingers trembling. “Don’t do that again.”
“Why not? Mistress.” Nathan remembered at the last second to add the honorific. “It’s not against the rules.”
“It’s against my rules.” Jen pulled the cord free and tossed it at her backpack. She popped open the waiting can of soda and offered it to him. “There’s not enough time. But if you were mine—”
He ignored the drink even though his throat was parched. Instead, he leaned in, far inside her personal space, and placed his hands on her bare leg, above the dark stockings.
“I am yours.”
She sucked in her breath before shaking her head. The can shook as she held it out again. “No. I’m your Domme only for as long as I’m here. When I leave, I’m my own person and a different woman.”
She unlocked the collar and placed it on the table.
Nathan released her and sat back.
He took the can and sipped the sweet drink. “Doesn’t matter how you parse it.” He eyed her. “How are you doing, Jennifer? Not sleeping well after the bomb threat?”
She froze and he knew he’d crossed the line. But he had to.
It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head, snapping her out of the scene with a sharp yank in her mind.
“Danielle.” She forced the words out. “When I’m here with you, it’s Danielle.” She tried to keep the pleading out of her voice and failed.
Damn him.
Damn me for telling him.
Nathan shook his head. “You’re always Jennifer to me now.” He locked eyes with her, and she knew she wouldn’t win the argument. He lifted a hand and touched her cheek. “Deep black circles under the eyes. You can only hide so much with makeup. You haven’t been sleeping well.”
“No,” she admitted. “But I didn’t want you to notice anything.”
The edge of Nathan’s mouth twisted up in a smirk. “I’m a cop. I can tell these things. Consider it a gift.” He cocked his head to one side. “And the bomb threat made the news. I do watch the television. Given the timing, I assumed it was your workplace.”
Busted.
He made a rolling motion with his finger.
She sighed. “The cops didn’t find anything. Colleen called Daisy and Gwen to warn them. We told them about Tanner, but I don’t think they took it too seriously. We’re all being a bit more careful now.”
She omitted the pepper spray now carefully situated under the front counter of the clinic, within easy reach of any of the staff.
Nathan nodded. “They’ll make a note, probably pass it on. I can see their reasoning. It could have been any number of people. Angry drug addicts pissed off they didn’t con you into a prescription, annoyed patients who feel they didn’t get what they wanted. Kids looking to prank you, getting a kick out of the fuss.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe a tired receptionist who wanted a night off.”
Jen scowled. “Shut up and drink.”
She couldn’t think of what else to say.
He took another swig as she picked up her phone and tapped in the code to tell Dispatch she was fine and finishing up with her client.
“They’ll do their homework, don’t worry. The important thing is that there was nothing there.” Nathan sighed as he finished off the drink, smacking his lips with a satisfied grunt. He slowly rolled both his shoulders, wincing at certain points. “Thanks for taking it light on me today. Sorry about the injuries.”
“You didn’t do it on purpose.” She put the phone aside and pulled him into a gentle hug, grateful they were talking about something other than the text message. “You’ve got to be careful. Lots of tough guys out there who don’t mind taking on the cops.”
“Part of the job.” Nathan relaxed in her arms and let out a weary groan. “That was intense.”
She knew he wasn’t talking about the bar fight.
They sat in silence.
Jen finally spoke. “I’d planned this scene for a while. I knew you’d never want to go to the club, so—”
Nathan sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But as a police officer, I can’t risk the exposure, excuse the pun.” He reached out and ran a finger along the leather collar coiled on the table. “It’d be bad enough if I were a Dominant. Being a submissive would make it worse. The guys—” He shook his head. “It’d never work out.”
She put her hand on his leg, feeling the hard muscles tense under her touch. “I understand. It’s what Hooded Pleasures was created for. Wendy and Evan realized the clubs weren’t going to work for everyone for some reason or another. Some professional, some personal. This works out for everyone.” She closed her eyes and relaxed, savoring his body heat. “I’m glad you let me stay after Kate left.”
He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back against the cushions as the emotional high began to wear off. “Love my Domme.” The sleepy response reached her ears as Jen drifted in her own lethargic haze.
She should be forcing herself up and out of his house at this point, ending the session and leaving. She should be asking him for his bank card and receiving payment for the visit.
Problem was, she didn’t want to move. She was physically and emotionally toasted.
&nbs
p; The session with Nathan had capped off a bad week of sleepless nights. She’d tossed and turned in bed last night, unable to go to sleep more out of curiosity than fear, unlike the previous few days.
Could the bomb threat be unrelated, some dumb kid doing it for kicks?
Was she making things worse with this paranoia, this fear underlying her every decision?
She’d changed her world, her relationship with Nathan because of Lucas Tanner getting out of jail.
But was it really all Tanner’s doing?
Or had it been the final straw, the raison d’être for a well-needed and wanted change?
The questions spun around in her head as she tried to make sense of her thoughts, the exhaustion sending them skittering across her mind like a deer across a frozen pond.
The slow buzz from a good session with Nathan twisted into a light sleep as she dozed off despite her inner alarm telling her she needed to pack up and go home.
Jen felt warm and loved and secure, something that had evaded her for a good long while.
“I’ll keep you safe.” The words came to her down a long dark tunnel.
She knew it was true.
She rolled into the darkness with a contented sigh.
Chapter Eight
Nathan let out a slow sigh and watched Jen sleep in his arms. She curled closer, nuzzling into the side of his neck.
He didn’t need a psychology degree to figure out what was going on here. Worrying about Tanner, rightly or wrongly, had shredded her to the point that she had fallen asleep on his couch with him, the security and safety he offered enough to push her into doing what she shouldn’t do. Another time and place would have her headed for the door, shouldering the pink backpack with a mischievous grin and wink.
But she was here.
With him.
He shifted his hips, his arousal from the session slowly waning and twisting into a slow burn. Usually he’d have raced to his bathroom within minutes of the door closing behind her but this…this was a totally different type of experience.
It was refreshing. It was—
Wonderful.
Her lips parted, and she exhaled, the light minty breeze drifting over his senses.
When he’d been married, he’d never felt this good.
This right.
This contented.
Problem was, he didn’t know what to do.
Wake her up from a much-needed sleep to help her out the door, or let her rest.
The cop side of his mind kicked in, pointing out it’d be unsafe to let her drive in such a dozy state. It would be wrong and dangerous.
The submissive part of his mind agreed and upped the ante, noting it was his job to keep her safe and letting her get some much-needed rest was obviously the right choice.
His entire mind knew he’d regret this, but it was well worth any punishment she’d deliver down the line.
* * * * *
She woke in near darkness, her head spinning. Her fingers clutched at the ground under her and found it soft and giving, bunching up in her grip.
A quilt.
I’m in a bed.
She drew a sharp breath and tried to remember driving home. A brief surge of panic threatened to overwhelm her, twisting her stomach into knots as she wondered if she’d suffered either some sort of accident or worse—had blanked out the entire trip home.
The last few minutes of consciousness rushed in on her, filling in the details.
Nathan.
This is not my bed.
This is Nathan’s bed.
The truth didn’t help her feel any better.
Jen cursed as she sat up too quickly and then lay down again, head spinning with the mild disorientation. While her head and stomach settled, she looked around. The dim light from the wrought iron lamps helped her adjust and see what was around her.
It was neat and tidy at first glance. A gray track suit lay neatly folded at the bottom of the king-sized bed, obviously intended for her.
The wooden headboard was deep rosewood. She reached up and stroked it, enjoying the smoothness. It matched the side tables and the dresser, the entire set giving the room an earthy feel.
She felt the comforter under her. Thick plushy goodness.
With her mind and body more settled, Jen sat up.
The pile of dirty clothing in the far corner of the room made her smile, the familiar track pants atop the stack announcing the owner.
Nathan.
She rubbed her eyes, feeling better and worse at the same time.
She was in his house.
In his bed.
But she couldn’t fault the results.
Jen stretched out her arms and yawned. It’d been a good sleep, a healing sleep, and she felt like she could take on the world.
The aroma of spaghetti sauce drifted in under the closed door, and her stomach growled with anticipation.
She stood and walked to the edge of the bed where the track suit lay.
Jen measured it against herself, finding it only slightly oversized. The soft material reminded her she’d fallen asleep in clothing definitely not intended to be slept in.
She pulled at the ends of her corset, wincing as she spotting the pink lines on her abdomen where the straps had cut into her skin. They’d fade with time, but she made a mental note never to fall asleep in her gear ever again.
It took a few minutes to strip off the corset and garters and to put them into the waiting pink backpack, a few more to pull on the large sweatshirt and matching pants. A quick tug at the string tightened the waistband to the point where she could walk without fear of them falling down.
Jen rubbed her arms, the soft fabric soothing her even as she berated herself.
You fell asleep.
In a client’s house.
Smooth move, idiot.
She straightened out the quilt and placed her backpack at the edge of the bed. Her cell phone lay on the side table within reach.
She picked the phone up and noted it’d been six hours since the end of their session.
Six hours?
Damn it.
The sad thing was she felt great. The deep sleep had replenished her lagging energy levels, her mind finally clear and quiet.
The realization didn’t make her feel much better.
Her stomach growled again, and she gave in to its demands.
Jen walked out of the room and headed down the hall. She passed the bathroom on the way to the stairs and looked in, noting the old-fashioned bathtub against the wall and the more modern shower stall beside it.
She followed the delicious smell down the stairs to the kitchen, where Nathan was finishing setting two places on the marble island taking up most of the kitchen. A small breakfast nook sat off to one side, unused. Freshly showered and dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, he hummed a jaunty tune as he turned to her.
“Hey. I was about to come up and get you.” He smiled. “Lasagna is almost ready. Just putting out the salad.” He paused. “You do eat salad, right?”
“I eat everything.” Jen rubbed her face. “Thanks for—” She gestured at the loose-fitting track suit.
“I figured you’d like to be comfortable eating dinner. It’s just a guess, but I can’t see that outfit being something you’d wear around the house all the time.” He gave her a sly wink. “If it is, please correct me, and I’ll add it to my dream inventory.”
Jen laughed as she slid onto one of the waiting stools. “Nice try. No, I don’t wear it when I’m not working. Too hard to keep clean.” She frowned. “And those nylons are always tearing.”
“You’re spoiling my fantasies.” Nathan opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of salad. He placed it on the table next to the smaller bowls. “I’ve only got balsamic dressing. Hope that’s okay.�
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She nodded, taken aback by the sudden domesticity. She didn’t assume he was the typical bachelor-cop slob, but this was refreshingly normal.
“I know I shouldn’t have taken you upstairs, but you were starting to snore.” Nathan grinned as he plucked a pitcher of cold water from the counter and filled the two water glasses. “And I was beginning to cramp up.”
Jen brushed her hand through her hair, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I’m sorry. It just—”
“No, no.” He waved her off with a chuckle. “You needed it. Obviously.” Nathan turned to the oven and opened the door to peer at the contents. “I get exactly what you felt. I get that way at times after a rough shift or a stressful situation. Can’t sleep for days, and then it overwhelms you. I’ve lain down on the couch and passed out for almost all of my day off. It’s your system’s way of dealing with stuff and you don’t get a choice.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Given the stress you’ve been under, it was bound to happen.”
Nathan held up a hand as he reached for the oven mitt on the counter. “And I already called in to HP and paid. Told them we’d totally forgotten about it in the emotion of the moment and all. Not sure if she believed me, but she sent an email, and that’s all taken care of.” He reached into the oven. “Didn’t want them coming after you or I thinking something was off.” He let out a low laugh. “I forgot to mention you were asleep upstairs. Figure that was no one’s business but ours.”
Jen took a sip of water and watched him retrieve the bubbling tray of pasta.
Into the fire.
Nathan placed the lasagna on the counter. He deftly sliced two fat squares out and laid each on the waiting plates.
Jen forced herself to stop twirling the fork between her fingers, her mouth filling with saliva in anticipation.
The man can cook.
Nathan put the loaded plate in front of her. “I usually put the rest of the tray in the fridge for meals during the week. But it doesn’t mean you can’t have seconds if you like it.” He filled both salad bowls with the mixed greens.
She stared at the car-sized portion. “You’re kidding, right? I’ll be lucky if I get halfway through this.” Her hunger turned from a howling wolf to a purring kitten as she assessed the task in front of her. “I assume you allow takeout.”
Strictly Yours: Hooded Pleasures, Book 3 Page 9
