Chapter Seven
Kyle turned the filets over on the broiler and checked the time. It was eight-thirty and still no sign of Regan. Although she had said she didn’t know when she would get there, he hoped it would be soon. He was taking a chance with the meat and the potatoes and asparagus he had roasting in the oven. If she took much longer, the food would be either cold or overdone, but he took pride in everything he did, including cooking. He felt it was beneath his dignity to serve something cold or simple for dinner for his date.
It didn’t matter anyway. If Regan was pleased with the meal, he would be pleased as well. If she weren’t, he might be punished, and he could no longer deny that the idea of it excited him. His cock, which had been neglected at his own volition for the last few days, stood at attention at the mere thought.
“Down boy,” he muttered under his breath. He was wearing his boxers as ordered, and even though being single and having cooked in only his underwear before, he still felt weird because he knew a fully-clothed Regan was going to walk in on him. He couldn’t help wondering what, if anything, she had planned for him this evening. He hoped that whatever else it involved, she’d let him finally put his dick inside her. Blowjobs were damn good, but nothing was better than seating his cock in the tight, soft warmth of a woman’s body.
As he took the tray of vegetables out of the wall oven, the intercom buzzed. His heart and cock jerked simultaneously at the sound and what it meant. He forced his breath to steady and pressed the intercom button. “Regan?”
“Yes,” came the cool reply and just the sound of the woman’s voice was enough to harden his erection even more.
“Come on in.” Undressed as he was, he pushed the button to release the inner security door. Then he opened his unit’s door and stood aside as the woman who perversely held sway over him breezed into his home.
“Hi,” she said in an easy tone. “I won’t ask if you still want to see me tonight.” She gave his cock a quick squeeze. “It’s obvious you do, and you get points for enthusiasm.”
He wanted to kiss her, just a little peck in greeting, but he didn’t. Waiting for permission was already becoming ingrained in him. “Thanks. Although I can’t take credit for my erection. That’s your doing. My own personal dose of Viagra.”
She smiled at his remark, and moving farther into the condo, she tossed a large, plastic bag on the floor. “I brought along some things for later,” she said when he scrutinized the bag, and his heart picked up speed in anticipation of what it contained. Regan sniffed toward the kitchen. “What are you fixing for dinner?”
“Steak. Shit.” He hustled back to the oven. The filets were done, and he hoped not overcooked. He pulled the broiler out and placed it on a trivet.
“Looks like you went to a lot of trouble,” Regan leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed in front of her chest.
Kyle shrugged as he plated the food. “Not really.”
“Maybe not for the women you’re used to having up here, but I’m more of a burger and pizza kind of date.”
He heard the note of insecurity in her voice, and it touched his heart. This cop and he were from very different backgrounds, and yet it mattered not one wit to him. “You’re worth the effort, Regan,” he assured her over his shoulder and was rewarded by an appreciative grin.
The expression lasted only a millisecond before it was replaced by the hard-nosed Domme he was getting used to. “I see you were a good boy about your underwear.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “Does it please you?”
“Yes. I’m hungry, though. We eat first, then we play.” The way she said the word play sent tingles up his spine in anticipation. His cock twitched.
“As you wish. I thought we’d eat at the dining table. If you’d like to be seated, I’ll bring the plates of food over.”
She nodded and did as he suggested. When he joined her moments later with the food in hand, he was pleased to see she had taken the seat at the head of the table as he intended. Her jacket was slung over another chair as was her gun holster. He put her plate down in front of her and sat in the place set to her right.
“Would you like some wine?” he asked.
He’d opened a bottle of Borolo earlier to breath. Although he wasn’t sure a woman like Regan would recognize the label or even appreciate the sophistication of its taste, it didn’t matter. He wanted to give her the best he could. It was a matter of pride, yes, but more, he felt affection for this woman. She was becoming important to him on more than a sexual level.
“Sure.” She took a sip after he poured some in her glass. “It’s very nice. As I’m sure you can imagine, wine is not my thing, either, but I like the taste.”
“That’s all that matters with wine,” he assured her.
He watched as she tucked into her meal and was delighted by how much she was obviously enjoying it. He allowed himself time to savor some of his own meal before trying for conversation. If their relationship was to be founded on more than bed games, they needed to get to know each other better.
“How was your week? I mean after you left me the other day?” he clarified teasingly.
Regan swallowed her mouthful. “Not as productive as I would have liked.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. The club’s not panning out for you?”
She hesitated, as if pondering how much to tell him, then shook her head. “Not really.”
“You must at least enjoy playing Mistress Regan,” he teased again.
She rolled her eyes at him. “No, I don’t. It’s boring and hard work, and the men are less than appealing for the most part. They’re not like you.” She scraped her forefinger up his thigh.
His breath burst out as if he’d been punched in the gut, and he had to take a gulp of wine to ease his suddenly dry mouth. “Christ, I never would have thought I’d get off on this kind of thing.”
“What kind of thing?” she baited him.
“Letting a woman dominate me, humiliate me, hurt me, as you well know. It’s like a drug, one hit and I’m hooked.”
Regan looked at him thoughtfully over the rim of her wine glass. “You’ve really never done this before with another woman?”
“Never,” he confirmed. “I’ve always been the one to take charge in bed. My ex-wife expected it.”
“Is that what led to the divorce?”
“No, I was raised to be a take charge kind of guy, professionally and in my personal relationships.” He gave her a wry smile. “I went into my marriage knowing it was my responsibility to protect and provide for my family. As the man of the house, it was my duty to shoulder all the burden so my wife wouldn’t have to worry about anything, including when and how we would make love. I was comfortable with the role in all its aspects. At least, I thought I was up until now.”
He took another bite of food and considered how quickly his expectations in a personal relationship had shifted dramatically. “Anyway, Julie wanted out of the marriage, because she said I worked too much and was never home. Funny thing was she never complained about the money I brought home for her to spend.”
He shook his head and toyed with his own glass. “She also said she felt neglected, and yet she didn’t seem too interested in my attention. I can’t imagine what I would have done if she had greeted me at the door one day with a whip in hand, barking orders.”
“You wouldn’t have accepted her authority, because she wouldn’t have been strong enough for you,” Regan observed.
“You may be right,” he agreed. “I can’t say the divorce was a bad thing. Even my relationship with my daughters is better, because I get them every other weekend and make sure my schedule is clear to spend time with them. When I was living at home, I rarely saw them. It took the divorce to make me see how much I was missing.”
He took another bite of his steak, although he wasn’t really hungry anymore, at least not for food. He wanted Regan. His erection still strained at the fabric of his underwear. But it wasn’t his call as to
when they began to play, and Regan was still eating. “How about you? You seem rather good at all this for being a novice.”
“I’m a quick learner. Besides, I haven’t had much time with any one man to do anything really interesting.”
“Married to your job?”
“Something like that, and I take care of my father.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“A perp pushed him down a flight of stairs and put him in a wheelchair.” She said the words with little rancor, just reciting the facts.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You take care of him?”
“He takes care of himself, mostly, but my mother died a few years after that from an aneurism, and well, I’m it. I don’t mind, although with us sharing a duplex, it does put a crimp in my style.”
“Well, we can always meet here, and the walls are thick,” he added meaningfully.
Regan drained her glass. “Good.” Standing up, she said, “I’m done, and I want you.”
Kyle stood, too. He loved her direct manner, the fact that she seemed to be devoid of coyness. It was so much the way he, himself, was, and she was right about his needing to submit to someone he could respect for her strength. He stared hard into her eyes, letting her see how much he wanted her, how much his blood churned with the need to be touched by her.
Her eyes flashed with understanding, and she tossed him a bone, a small one, but it tested the limits of his self-control. Leaning over the corner of the table, she clasped the back of his head and dug her nails into his scalp. He winced in pain but didn’t resist when she tugged him to her. She devoured his mouth with her luscious lips that tasted of the rich wine. He gripped the edge of the table to stop his hands from grabbing her and pulling her close. Instead, he was content to let his tongue chase hers and wrestle with it.
She allowed him this bit of liberty until they were both so breathless they parted with a gasp. “Leave the dishes and get into your bedroom,” she ordered in a husky tone. She might not be as obvious as he, but she was definitely aroused. The knowledge satisfied some primitive part of him.
“Yes, Mistress Regan,” he agreed smugly. With a fast-beating heart, though, he started toward his bedroom, making the effort to keep his gait slow and steady. This was it, what he had asked for, if not begged for. The question was, was he ready? Was he worthy of her? Could he stand up to whatever she had planned for him?
He’d find out soon enough.
Regan willed her breathing to steady as Kyle did as she had commanded. He was actually doing it. He was going to his bedroom to wait for her, his tight ass marching enticingly away. She wondered where she got the guts to order him around like that and realized she got it from him, of course. She was in control because he allowed her to be, and he allowed it because he trusted her to be forceful enough to take command of him. It was humbling.
When he was out of sight, she went to retrieve her bag of goodies, hoping she had made the right choices and that they would both enjoy the effect of them. She picked up the sack and, with a last deep breath for courage, followed him into the bedroom. He was standing to the side of a large sleigh bed, waiting for her to tell him what to do, she supposed. The bed would prove a challenge because she had hoped for a four-poster to tie him to easily, but she had also anticipated this possibility.
“Lie face down,” she told him and again marveled at her own audacity. The look of excitement in Kyle’s eyes before he complied told her she was doing the right thing.
When he was down, she dropped her bag and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. These were not like her official ones. They were covered in padded silk so as not to bruise the wearer. Still, she knew how to use them well, and seconds later, Kyle’s hands were secured behind his back.
The legs, however, were going to prove more troublesome. She wanted them bound, and the only way to do that was to encase the ankles in shackles, which she did quickly. She hooked a bungee cord to one shackle, tossed the other end under the bed, and hauled it up on the other side. When she pulled on the cord, Kyle had to stretch his leg toward the edge, and after she attached a second cord’s end to the other shackle, his legs were spread-eagle.
He was now pretty helpless, and there was only one more thing to do to keep him that way. Reaching into her bag of tricks, Regan extracted a ball gag. She had deliberately picked this type over the kind with a plug so as not to be reminded of the serial killer. She held the gag up for her lover to see. He was watching her with sharp eyes.
She made sure to keep the gag in his line of sight as she approached the bed and sat beside him. “Everything all right so far? I mean I assume it is, because I haven’t heard the safeword.”
“You won’t.” His voice was thick with passion, and the sound sent her juices flowing.
“I certainly won’t if I use this thing. Perhaps it’s too early in our relationship to use it given how it will keep you from telling me if I go too far.” This was an important issue to resolve before they got started. Although the idea of gagging Kyle, making him completely helpless, caused her insides to quiver with excitement, she didn’t want to scare him.
“I trust you, Regan,” was the man’s simple reply.
He did. She could see the trust in his eyes, and part of her wanted to run from the sight. It was scary to have another human being put his life in your hands. She wanted to prove to them both that he wasn’t making a mistake, so she stuck the gag against his mouth. “Open up.” When he did, she wedged the ball between his teeth and left the strap hanging down.
“I’m not going to secure the gag. If you need to safeword, you’ll be able to spit the ball out.”
Sliding off the bed, she stood and took in the length of him. His hard body was spread out for her pleasure, the muscles twitching with his confinement, his sides expanding rapidly with quick breaths that told her he was as excited and stimulated as she. Well, he was about to become more so, at least she hoped he was.
“I picked up a little something of my own to wear,” she informed him in a low voice. She didn’t make a big show of taking off her clothes because she felt self-conscious trying to be sexy and seductive. Instead, she rid herself of her outer layers as if she were getting lazily ready for bed.
Kyle’s gaze never left her body, and his eyes went wide when he saw what she was wearing under her ordinary shirt. It was a simple silk camisole of deep purple trimmed in black lace. In Veronica’s store, she had liked the contrast of the delicate material and her hard, muscled arms. The slippery softness of the silk clung erotically to her breasts, making her nipples peak to hard buds. She bet Kyle was thinking of fastening his lips to them right then, and he wasn’t going to have too long to wait.
When she slipped off her pants, however, his eyes wandered down and away from her breasts. An explosion of air and noise came past his gag, and Regan gave him a knowing grin. She was wearing panties that matched the camisole, and they were crotchless. It had been weird to wear only her pants against her pussy, especially when she was so wet, but the effect the sight was having on Kyle was well worth it. His body strained against his bonds.
“Like what you see?” she purred.
It was so unlike her to be kittenish and teasing in the bedroom, but she couldn’t help it. The outfit alone made her feel unbelievably sexy and feminine. She sauntered back to the head of the bed and stood near his face to give him a close look at her pussy. She waxed regularly, not out of vanity, but because she liked the clean look and feel of having only a thin line of pubic hair. The curly strands, a shade of red darker than her hair, peeked out provocatively from between the silk, and Kyle’s nostrils flared as his eyes feasted on her cunt.
Regan spread her legs and braced them apart. “Like what you smell, Kyle? That’s me wanting you.” He made that grunting sound around the confines of his gag again, and she knew she was driving him wild. “Soon, I’ll let you have a taste. Right now, I want to play with your body.”
She left him and moved to her bag
of toys. She pulled out a peacock feather and a riding crop. Soft and hard, they were contrasting weapons to use on a man. “What do you think?” She held them up for Kyle to see. Then, on impulse, she dragged the length of the feather through the folds between her legs to see what it felt like and to tease him. It tickled and caused her to give a little shiver. Kyle, however, jerked hard against his restraints, as if he were trying to free himself to get to her.
“Uh, uh,” she admonished, delighted with his response. She was dying, too, to try out the toys on him directly. Kneeling on the bed, she sat on her haunches and ran her palm down his back. His skin was smoothness stretched over hard muscles. His ass was a perfectly shaped bubble that bunched under her touch as she dragged his boxers off it as much as she could. Damn, she should have made him strip before tying him.
In contrast to his movements, she squeezed and kneaded and finally sank her short fingernails into his flesh. He hissed in response.
“Does that hurt?” she asked. “How about something soothing?” With the feather, she caressed the place she had just dug and watched him react to the gentle touch. He was passive to the sensation, which disappointed her, so she made the feather more threatening by dragging it between his cheeks. That made him move. There was a grunt of protest, and he twisted his body to avoid her.
“Don’t move!” She delivered a sharp slap across the rump in emphasis. “You’re mine. I can touch you any way I want, and you will accept it, unless you safeword.”
She waited for him to say something. When he remained silent, she drew the feather again between the cheeks. She moved it back and forth slowly. “I know how sensitive straight men can be about this, Kyle, but the idea of pegging you turns me on. If we continue our relationship, we’ll discuss whether you can agree to that kind of play.”
She meant it, too, even though she hadn’t thought about it at all until this moment. The idea of fucking a man had crossed her fantasies from time to time. She hadn’t thought she’d ever be in a position to act on it. Now, she realized the possibility was real. Not tonight, but soon if they kept up this relationship. And she had a feeling they would. Kyle was doing an excellent job of tamping down his aversion to this kind of play. His buttocks clenched off and on, yet he wasn’t trying to avoid her anymore.
Cuffed & Collared Page 10
