Crave

by Sierra Cartwright

  Her plea sliced through his defenses.

  Despite his best intentions, he faced her. Fuck. What the hell was it about her? He wanted to pretend that sexual attraction didn’t exist between them, but it was there, raw, primal, pulsing. This woman could lead him around by his dick.

  He reminded himself that she’d given him, them, no chance at success or a future. Part of him hated her for that, her cowardice, for not being the woman he’d wanted.

  “Reece… Sir…”

  “Nice manners,” he said.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “If you’re still in this room in sixty seconds, you’ll get everything you’re asking for.”

  The woman at his feet wore no makeup, hid behind no artifice. “I’m not running.”

  “This time.”

  Her head snapped back to indicate his direct hit. But then, even more forcefully, she repeated, “I’m not running.”

  “You should.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  His beautiful, stubborn former lover remained in place.

  “I don’t know whether to applaud your bravery or condemn your stupidity,” he said.

  “Perhaps both, Sir.” She attempted a smile that fell flat. “Internally I’m doing both right now.”

  He remembered hearing the same mixture of anticipation and nerves in her voice the first night he’d tied her hands to his headboard. He’d treated her as if she were the most delicate, precious thing—and to him, she had been.

  But her callousness had changed him, hardened him.

  “Scene with me, Sir?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Julien tells me you don’t have a sub right now. Surely you miss that, if nothing else?”

  He did. It had been a long time since he’d played with a submissive, and Julien knew it. “The room setup,” he said, glancing around. “You or Julien?”

  “Julien.”

  He nodded. While Reece preferred suspension, the St Andrew’s cross that Julien had provided was large and sturdy with thick leather cuffs, perfect for securing even the biggest, strongest, most recalcitrant sub.

  “I understand he had it built here by a local carpenter.”

  Were they that sure of his reaction? Or of his lunacy where she was concerned?

  “Your toy bag is over there.” She inclined her head.

  “Adding breaking and entering to your résumé, Ms Lovett?”

  “No, Sir. Julien has a key,” she reminded him.

  “Ah. The letter of the law versus the spirit of the law argument.”

  “The ends justify the means,” she said with a grin.

  His resolve wavered. He’d rarely been able to deny this woman anything. More than anyone, she knew his weaknesses. “Did you thoughtfully provide him instructions on what to include?”

  She remained silent.

  “A cane, perhaps?”

  If the way her shoulders rolled forward was any indication, bravado had momentarily fled.

  “Rattan was made for you,” he said.

  “If you say so, Sir.”

  “But I’m betting there’s not a cane in the bag.”

  “It was too big, Sir.”

  “And the crop, as well.”

  She nodded. “Much too long, Sir.”

  “As I thought. So you had Julien provide only the implements you wanted,” he said.

  Silence damned her.

  He’d barely introduced her to the cane’s sear before she’d left. He’d used a crop on her a handful of times, and she hadn’t objected too much to the taste of its flapper on her nipples. But when he’d flicked the leather across her swollen pussy, she’d screamed, then exhaled in a shuddering orgasm. The memory drained the blood from his brain.

  It was insanity to stay in the room with her. He could return to the main party area and enjoy a lap dance from one of the ‘guests’ Julien had invited for entertainment purposes.

  “You’re wondering what’s in the bag,” Sarah said.

  Now I am.

  He looked down at her. She had to be uncomfortable by now, but she hadn’t fidgeted or complained. Another new thing. “Fetch it.”

  With a grace that had escaped her years ago, she rose and crossed to the corner.

  She picked up the canvas bag and carried it to him. She stopped inches from him, close enough that he was undone by her presence. He’d been unaware of the hint of vanilla that mingled with her womanly aroma. Now it consumed him. “Tell me what’s in there,” he said, surprised that his tongue still worked and that he could form words.

  “A small whip.”

  He knew from the shape of the bag that there were a few other items. “And?” he prompted. The longer he stood in front of her, the more the conversation wound him in, the more he knew he was helpless to resist her.

  “And two of your fifty-strand floggers.”

  “Which two?”

  With a boldness he’d never seen in her, she looked up at him.

  “I asked Julien to pick the red one. In the past you told me how much you liked the way the strands matched the marks you left on my back.”

  He suddenly felt like a fish. Not just because his mouth was open, but because he knew how close he was to going for the bait she was sexily dangling in front of him.

  “I also suggested he add the looped one you’d planned to use in public with me.”

  “The same night nerves overcame you and you needed to stay home?”

  “I’m much braver now,” she said.

  “Are you?” Too bad they wouldn’t have the opportunity to test her promise.

  “There are also assorted paddles, several pairs of clamps, lube, a vibrator…” She faltered before continuing, “Ah, a hood.”

  “Which you refused to wear in the past.”

  “I told you I’m braver now.” She continued to meet his gaze. “I also included bondage tape.”

  “Quite thorough.” And designed to pique his interest. “I imagine Julien enjoyed his forage through my private things.”

  “He said he did, Sir.” She grinned. “He thoughtfully included an entire box of condoms. Assorted colors and flavors. Ribbed and smooth. I told him that was fine, as long as he bought you the giant-sized ones.”

  Suddenly he wondered at the conversations the two had shared.

  “I assured him I would take all the blame.”

  “I’m happy to give it all to you.”

  Goosebumps chased up her bare arms.

  “Fear?” he asked.

  “A little,” she confessed.

  “Good.”

  “I won’t change my mind. I’m nervous, not scared. There’s a difference.”

  “Put down the bag.”

  She set it at his feet.

  He noticed her hesitation then. He helped her out. “Kneel.” When she did, he added, “Choose three items from it.”

  Time and silence merged and dragged until the sound of her shuddered sigh broke the quiet.

  “You can leave any time,” he said, needing to say something that reminded them both that he was in charge.

  In answer, she unzipped the bag. The first thing she selected was a pair of soft handcuffs.

  He accepted them, telling himself that he didn’t notice the gentle drag of her nails on his palm and that nerve endings hadn’t sparked in response.

  She then selected the red flogger.

  He accepted it, as well. “And finally?”

  She rooted through the contents and pulled out a silk scarf.

  “Excellent choices.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” she said, smiling up at him.

  “Now put them back.”

  Her smile faded. “Sir?”

  “You’ve got one more chance.”

  She shuddered.

  “All this is your choice,” he reminded her. “From the elaborate ruse, to the well-equipped play space. So if you want the beating you say you crave, entice me.”

  Reece wanted to scare her. He wanted
her to have second, third, fourth thoughts about moving forward. He wanted her to run for the door so that he could prove they weren’t right for each other.

  For less than a heartbeat, she hesitated. Then she took each item from him and dropped them into the bag. Her lack of care with his belongings told him that he’d made her nervous.

  This time, the first thing she pulled out was a pair of nipple clamps.

  He nodded and accepted them.

  Then she gave him a blindfold.

  “Very good,” he said. “And what will you select next?”

  Both of her hands were inside the bag, and she was looking in its depths. With a deep sigh, she removed his favorite flogger. The strands were looped, giving it an entirely different feel from the red one. It was beefier and had more oomph. “Well done, Sarah.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He realized how important his approval really was to her, and how much deeper he was getting pulled in with each moment. “Now put on the nipple clamps.”

  “I… I don’t understand.”

  Of course she didn’t. On the few times she’d been adorned with them, he’d affixed them, after a lot of play and a certain amount of distraction. And she was still dressed.

  “You’ll need to loosen my corset,” she said.

  “I’ll find someone else to do it.”

  “What? Are you out of your mind?”

  “Or we can call it a night, go and have a drink at the bar. Catch up on the last couple of years.”

  “Fine. Go ahead and find someone else to loosen it.”

  He placed her selections on a banquet table before heading into the hallway. A young couple were walking toward him. From the way they were leaning on each other and the way she was giggling at something he’d said, it appeared that they were already having a great time. “Do you mind giving me a hand with my lady’s corset?”

  The couple looked at each other. “Why not?” the woman said with a shrug. “They can be tricky.”

  “How do you know that, luvie?” the gentleman asked.

  “I have one or two.”

  “All kinds of secrets you’re keeping, Magenta.”

  “You’ll never know,” she replied with a cheeky flip of her hair.

  “I’m intrigued.” To Reece he added, “Ten years together and she can still surprise me.”

  The woman walked to where Sarah stood.

  “Men are helpless at these things,” Magenta said.

  “Indeed we are,” Reece agreed.

  Sarah glared at him. “Only when it suits you.”

  “Indeed.” He’d cinched her into one and slowly released her at least a dozen times in the past. “You’re welcome to put a stop to it at any time.”

  In answer, she turned her back to them.

  “Quite the kinky setup you’ve got here,” Magenta’s companion said. “Ah… Terribly rude of me.” He extended a hand. “Name’s North Star.”

  “A pseudonym, I take it,” Reece said.

  “Left the real world behind on the mainland,” he answered.

  They shook hands. “Reece McRae.”

  “I’ve heard of you.”

  “God,” Sarah choked out. “Seriously?”

  “Mind if we have a go after you’re finished in here?” the man asked.

  “Wait a minute,” Magenta said. “You’re not getting me up on that thing.”

  “No, love,” North Star agreed. “I was more thinking that I’d let you tie me up to it and have your wicked way with me.”

  “In that case, I’m very interested.”

  While Magenta loosened the laces, Reece exchanged telephone numbers with North Star.

  “You’ll text me as soon as you’re finished?”

  “It’s a private room that Julien set up. You’re welcome to use it, but don’t broadcast its existence.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “All done,” Magenta announced. “We’ll give you some privacy now.”

  As the two exited, Sarah turned back to face him, holding the corset in place. The door closed, and the sudden silence seemed to ricochet. “Lower it,” he instructed.

  Slowly, she did.

  “Gorgeous,” he said. He remembered her being beautiful, but he hadn’t remembered just what kind of impact she had on him.

  He reached out and took the leather from her. “Now the skirt.”

  “I should have expected that.”

  “Yes. You should have.”

  She lowered the zipper then shimmied from the material, letting it fall to the floor.

  “You’re sexy as ever, Sarah.”

  “I—”

  “You’re perfect.”

  She’d put on a couple of pounds since he’d seen her last, and it suited her, filled her out, made her all the more soft and feminine. One night? It would never be enough.

  “You make me feel that way,” she said.

  “You are. Now the panties. And whatever made you think it would be okay to wear them?”

  She blushed then, reminding him of the innocent she’d once been.

  “That was remiss.”

  “Do you remember what the penalty used to be?”

  “Penalty?”

  “Don’t be coy.”

  “Ten stripes with whatever implement you chose.”

  “And your favorite was?”

  “Your hand, Sir.”

  Careful, his common sense warned. This Sarah, innocent, charming, would be his undoing. “Take them off.”

  “You used to cut them off me.”

  “Not tonight. Leave the shoes on.” They made her legs impossibly long and showed off her calves. And he was, after all, only a man.

  If she had been performing a striptease, she couldn’t have taken more time. She wriggled as she drew the silk scrap of material over her hips, exposing her nicely trimmed patch of hair. She still wore it exactly as he’d once instructed. Either that, or she’d intentionally done it, just for him. Regardless, it tantalized and melted another part of his cold resolve.

  Her gaze on him, she slid her panties down her thighs.

  She reached for his forearm to steady herself as she worked them off over her heels.

  “Good,” he told her when she stood up straight. He removed her hand. “Now the clamps.” He crossed to the table near the door, grateful for the momentary distance. If he’d hoped that time would have diminished her hold on him, he’d been wrong. He snatched up the metal chain and carried the set to her.

  Softly, she said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d do it for me.”

  A hundred times, yes. “No.”

  “Is this some sort of test?”

  “It is.”

  “You want to scare me off, make me go away so you can absolve yourself of any responsibility.”

  “Maybe.” He dangled the chain over his forefinger. “Put them on or not.”

  She pinched each nipple in turn. Then, in that intentionally sensual way, she brushed her fingers over his. He squared his shoulders and remained stoic.

  “This is more difficult than it looks,” she said.

  “I’m sure it is.”

  She placed the clamps with two small hisses. After exhaling, she shook out her hair and pulled back her shoulders.

  “Been a long time?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He glanced away to hide his quick, triumphant grin. The knowledge that she hadn’t been playing with others, at least not recently, pleased him. Before he lost his brain entirely, he looked at her and asked, “What’s your safe word?”

  “I haven’t changed it. It’s the same as it’s always been.”

  “Remind me.”

  She shivered, as if his response had shocked and chilled her. “Cream pie.”

  He had never forgotten. More than three years ago, at an annual presentation to shareholders, a pissed-off former employee had busted through the meeting room doors and thrown a pie at him. Reece had removed his jacket, used it to wipe off his face, then had turned
back his cuffs and continued the meeting while security had subdued the man.

  When the assailant had gone to court, Reece had testified on the man’s behalf. Reece had persuaded the judge to allow the man to perform community service rather than go to jail. Later, as they’d showered together at home, Sarah had confessed to being impressed by his reaction. If he could be so restrained when it came to someone he didn’t like, he was unlikely to overreact when it came to dealing with her.

  “I know you remember.”

  He closed his hand around the chain of her clamps.

  In a low, quiet, soft voice, she added, “I trust you, Reece.”

  “Until you walked out, I would have said that was a smart decision.”

  “Now you’re not as sure?”

  No one had ever inflamed such a combustible mixture of emotional angst inside him. “You’d be smart to change your mind.”

  “I won’t.”

  He nodded. “Cream pie it is.” He tugged on the chain.

  She remained in place and closed her eyes against the pain. He pulled her toward him. She swayed.

  “How do you like it?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Then open your eyes and tell me.”

  “I like it fine, Sir. Thank you.”

  “And now?” He tightened his grip.

  “Even better.”

  “Little liar.” He uncurled his fist. “If I can’t trust you to be honest, we’re done.”

  “You misunderstand.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t dishonest in the least. I’ve missed this. Want it.”

  He welcomed this new, more expressive side of her personality. “You may walk to the cross any time you wish,” he said as he dropped the metal.

  Under normal circumstances, he’d run his fingers over her skin, tip back her head, offer a kiss or words of encouragement. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest.

  Honestly, part of him wished she’d give in to a case of the nerves and flee from the room. “Any time you’re ready,” he said, indicating the cross.

  She drew a breath. “I am.”

  The sound of her heels was all but silent on the carpet. The sight of her walking, the sway of her hips, the flex of her calf muscles, the expanse of her back all caused an earthquake of emotion in him.

  As she spread her arms and her legs, he went to the table and palmed the blindfold. Then he attached the cowhide flogger to his belt loop.