by Skylar Kade
Now he’d think she was pining after him. Just because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him didn’t mean she missed him. Or wanted a repeat that lasted all night.
No, because that would be ridiculous. Douglas women didn’t need men. It was practically the family motto.
To keep things light, she teased him back, ignoring the way her skin heated beneath his touch. “Oooh, poor thing. That must have been such a hardship.” A smile even teased at the corner of her lips despite her efforts to remain unaffected by his presence. When was the last time she smiled at a man who wasn’t tipping her for drinks?
Keilor stared down at her. “Actually, it was.”
Oh boy. She wasn’t touching the wealth of subtleties in those words. Not going down that path.
Keilor lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Butterflies hatched in her chest, then died when he said, “You look tired.”
She scowled. “Well if that isn’t what every woman wants to hear from an attractive—” Her jaw clunked shut around the foot in her mouth.
He nipped her forefinger, zinging arousal to all her naughty bits, then stole her breath when he kissed her nose, her cheek. “Do you get a freckle every time you sass a Dom?”
An indelicate snort escaped her. “Sure. The freckles are a little-known Dominant Warning System saying ‘steer clear of the angry redhead!’” Yes, she thought, hold dear to your sarcasm. It was her current chastity belt of choice, and that was swiftly crumbling at the edges.
“Good. Less competition.” His lips drifted to her neck, where he pressed kisses to random patches of skin still exposed around the edges of the blanket.
Oh shit. She clutched the soft brown cover around her, remembering what she wore beneath—absolutely nothing aside from her short shorts. Like flipping a switch, her nipples hardened and her pussy clenched. He could so easily expose her. Not that she hadn’t been naked in the club every weekend, but it was different now, with Keilor watching her.
Dangerous.
“What…what are you doing?” His exploratory kisses had turned into sizzling nips to her collarbone.
“Counting your freckles.” He tugged at the blanket, playing momentary tug of war with her until he stopped fighting and simply went around the mountain. His hand slithered beneath her shield to scald her stomach, then higher. When the back of his hand brushed across her nipple, she moaned. “I need a baseline count. Scientific study and all of that.”
“Uh…rain check?” she squeaked, begging for and fearing his arousing touch. He’d turned her into a blubbering idiot without effort.
Though it wasn’t all bad. The knots in her shoulders, courtesy of carrying around drink trays all night, had melted away. The ever-present tangle of worry in her chest, courtesy of her mother, had also vanished. This was what she’d sought in the club. Why couldn’t she get it from a Dominant who was less…appealing? A few flogs, a little pain, a quick aftercare cuddle, and she should have been on her way to Zen living.
Instead, she was perched against a very hard body, with his very hard erection making itself known, with not even her wits as defense. No, he’d torn through her barriers like they were party streamers.
Maybe she was more desperate than she’d thought. That had to be it, because no man had even tempted her to give herself over to him. The accumulated stress had worn her down. One more night with him would do the trick.
It had to.
“No rain check.” His thumb flicked across her nipple and she surged up, begging for more contact. “You can make it up to me tonight. Let me play you again. I haven’t been with anyone since our night together, and I’m itching to let loose.” He let his hand drift lower, using it to part her legs before he stroked across her core. “And I don’t think I’m the only one.”
She was going to deny him, with her mother’s warnings about men and love echoing in her ears, but she took another close look at him and just couldn’t do it. Though he smiled, it was ragged at the edges. He looked so weary yet hopeful, holding his breath while he waited for her answer.
One night couldn’t hurt anything. She wouldn’t deny him, not when she’d benefit from it too.
“Yes.”
Before she could take a breath, she was in his arms and halfway to the bondage bar he’d used last time. It looked like a pull-up bar, but it adjusted in height and brought so much more pleasure than the gym ever could.
“Wrap your hands around the bar and don’t move. You can close your eyes though.”
He’d remembered. Warm fuzzies suffused her chest. Restraints made her claustrophobic. Out of control.
“What is our one rule, Tovia?”
Before they’d played the first time, Keilor had explained safewords, asked about her limits, and made her agree to his only hard and fast requirement. “Honesty, Sir.”
“Yes. To the exclusion of everything else, even when it’s ugly, because we need to trust each other.”
Trust. She wouldn’t go that far, not yet, but she did believe he would be truthful with her.
In the mirror, she watched his tall form walk across the dim room and fetch his rolling duffel bag from the storage cabinets at the opposite corner. Leather on flesh, yelps and screams set the scene and she tried to filter it all out. Nothing but Keilor would help her shed this anxiety.
And if she was going to get through the next week, she’d need the boost this night could give her.
Keilor fiddled with the sound system until dark, sexy dubstep piped through the speakers. Then he stalked back over to her, intent plain in his face.
Her eyes snapped shut, not wanting to see the possessive way Keilor looked over her body. Or the tender smile he wore, the one that crinkled his eyes at the corners. This was strictly business. It had to be. Romantic entanglements didn’t lead anywhere good.
Thinking about her parents’ divorce was a serious mood killer. She boxed it up and packed it away, easy after a decade of practice, instead focusing on the ominous boot steps nearing her corner. She sensed Keilor, recognized his gait. A shiver worked up her spine in anticipation. Once she cut away at everything else and just focused on the scene, the sensation, she knew she’d be fine.
Chapter 3
From behind, Keilor admired Tovia’s hourglass figure. No, not admired. Worshipped. She was taller than many women he’d played with, her cheek coming to rest high on his chest. He still stood taller than her, but didn’t need to bend in half to kiss her. He bet he’d be able to fuck her up against a wall pretty easily too. The view of her half-naked body had sent blood rushing to his cock, but that thought brought him to painful hardness.
Two floggers in hand, he stalked back to her, watching goose bumps spread across her skin as the air around her shifted. He caught eyes with Samantha. He’d known the pixieish submissive for years, and would be eternally grateful she brought Tovia to Apogee last month.
The first time he’d seen her, he’d known. Like his father told him would happen, part of him reared up and staked its claim on the unknown beauty who’d been peeking around the club, fascinated and awed and a little intimidated. He’d waited until their eyes locked, searched her face for the spark of recognition that she felt it too.
Nada. Definitely wasn’t how it was supposed to work. Keilor wondered if something had gone haywire in his brain, but his identical reaction tonight disproved that theory.
While in Greece, he’d resolved to seeing if “love at second sight” would be his lucky charm. Though interested, Tovia hadn’t been bitch-slapped by love like he had. If anything, she was shying further away from it.
Branson men didn’t run from love, though. His father had taught him better. He’d have to show Tovia just what she was missing, and tonight was his second chance to do it. No fucking up now.
The kiss he pressed to Tovia’s exposed neck made her gasp. Fiery strands of her hair tumbled out of a ponytail holder and tickled his face as he pressed hot open-mouthed kiss on her nape. This time she moaned, the
uncensored sound reaching out to stroke his erection.
Warring with the instinct to claim her—too fast, too soon for his skittish firebird—he hung the floggers from the hooks against the wall, then returned to her side. The milky white of her skin almost glowed in the dim room and made his heart pound in time with the driving music. Their first night together he’d watched her hips sway to the dubstep rhythm before he’d played her. That image, and many more, had kept him warm during his long trip to Greece.
Tovia was naked except for a very brief pair of tight, black shorts. They accented the bubble of her ass and her long legs. All he wanted was to pull her off the bondage bar and take her upstairs to the private suite he kept. All of the four founders, and a handful of the elite members, had rooms at Apogee, though the others made far better use of theirs. Tovia was the first woman in a long time he wanted for more than just a scene.
In the mirror, he could see her eyes scrunched closed, her teeth biting into her full, pale lips. He’d gotten such a brief taste of her during their one time together and he’d craved more since then, like an addict going cold turkey after a lifetime of fixes. All the things he wanted to do to her…and he’d set them all aside for that very reason. He prided himself on his control, as a man and a Dominant, and he would not budge on this. Not when his resistance would lead to a greater high for both of them.
Anticipation and all of that.
His waiting sub shifted on her bare feet, causing her ample breasts to ripple with the movement. Her hard nipples pressed against the empty air, begging for his mouth on them.
He moved behind her, aligning their hips and wrapping his left arm around her waist to lock her against his body. She canted her hips against him in the barest movement, but he felt the shift, the subconscious plea for more. His left hand splayed across her flat stomach, Keilor gently scored the nails of his right hand up her body, from her thigh to her stomach to the side of her breast.
At her sharp inhale, he flicked his thumb across one of her nipples.
“Keilor,” she gasped.
Oh, if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound…almost. “Keilor who?” he said before nibbling her ear.
Her eyes popped open in the mirror, glazed with desire. “What?”
He let his left hand shift lower, his pinky and ring finger dipping an inch below her waistband. A promise for more. “You called me Keilor, firebird. That’s not my name here.”
A shiver worked through her body. “Master Keilor.” Her voice pitched low and rough, just like he imagined she’d sound during sex.
“That’s my girl.” His palm rubbed over her nipple, abrading the tight peak. His mouth watered for the taste of her skin. Later, he promised himself. “Tell me your safeword.”
During their first scene, they’d talked about safewords, and Tovia had established her own word rather than using the yellow-red-blue house system. Said she liked the idea of having an off switch.
“Library.”
He had no idea why she chose the word, but whatever made her feel safe, he supported. Especially since he had every intention of pushing at the thick, high walls she’d built around herself. “Good. Are you ready?”
She nodded. He cleared his throat and waited. It took her a moment to understand his pause, then she scrambled for a reply. “Yes, Master Keilor.”
Though he wasn’t eager to step away from her, he did. Discipline. Patience. He repeated the words until his fingers unclenched from around her body.
He grabbed the floggers and did a quick warm-up in the air, falling into the Florentine pattern with ease. He’d been heavy into the BDSM community for more than a decade and had long ago decided he required of himself expertise in any implement he used on a submissive. He’d been lucky enough to receive mentoring from some of the finest Dominants around the country, first in San Francisco then in New York City. The floggers whished through the air in a one-two-three-four pattern that mimicked his heartbeat.
When his muscles hit their stride, he stopped to stash the second flogger on its hook. He wanted Tovia to get a good warm-up. He needed to test her reactions, especially after what Mike had told him about her recent visits to the club—no subspace, no concentration, and serious frustration with the whole thing. Not with him the first time, and not tonight. He wouldn’t allow it. She’d been a different woman in subspace, open and honest. Not the shuttered girl keeping others at a distance with her words.
Tovia’s shoulder muscles were taut, tense. He hung up the other flogger and returned to her side to massage her shoulders. “Tense?”
She shrugged. “Not more than usual.”
“Do you want to stop now?”
“No!” She swallowed and he saw her fingers clench around the bar. “No, Sir.”
The needy words cut at him. Everything about her tonight screamed stress. He would get to the bottom of her problems soon, but for now, he could recognize her need for release. Like lancing a wound, he’d help her siphon off tension.
Then they’d talk.
When her muscles started to unclench, he picked up his flogger once more and started up a slow, light rhythm across her back. Her skin blushed beneath the strokes. Even the soft deerskin flails of his custom flogger were enough for her sensitive flesh. Her ass would show a handprint so perfectly…
He maintained the steady beat against her back until she sagged bonelessly and her face had relaxed. No more clenched eyes, nibbled lips. She looked calmer already. He paused and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Doing okay?”
She nodded.
“More?”
“Please.” She swallowed, let her eyes flutter closed. “Master Keilor, I need more.”
Damn. This woman undid him. He’d give her anything she asked and more, if only she’d give him the chance. But he was determined. He would just have to whittle away at that fortress she kept herself in until he could free her from it. “Whatever you need, firebird.”
Forcing himself to be gentle when he wanted to lay siege to her defenses, he nipped at her neck then picked up both floggers, falling into the Florentine pattern for long minutes. When Tovia’s back arched into his blow, he picked up speed. Each stroke hit with more force until the thick slap-slap-slap-slap fought with the baseline of the music.
Her mouth fell open and her knees wobbled, then steadied. When her back was almost a solid red patch, he stopped.
A keening, “No,” tore from her throat before she bit off the plea.
Needing to touch her, he dragged his nails up and down her back. She danced beneath his hands, pressing herself into his touch. When she got too greedy, he smacked her ass. “Hold still.”
She froze, her muscles quivering while he imagined the handprint that would have marked like an indelible mark of his possession, had she not been wearing those damned shorts. His cock throbbed, wanting to lay claim to her whole body.
“What do you need, Tovia? Tell me.”
Her pink tongue flicked over her lips. He watched every movement of her face in the mirror as she haltingly answered. “I need…I need to let go.”
Yes, her defenses were definitely down. As much as he wanted to charge ahead, he knew that could only push her away in the long run. Tovia had safeworded their first time together, and he—and Samantha—suspected it was because their chemistry had been good enough to scare her away.
“I promise I will give you what you need.” She sighed in relief, her body sinking against him. “But you have to do one thing for me.”
Before she could stiffen and pull away, he swooped his arms around her, locking her in place. “No running this time, firebird. Not if you want release.”
She struggled for a moment and he waited to hear her safeword, but she didn’t speak. Her head fell forward. “Okay.”
“Promise to play with me next week. And me alone.”
She straightened, her ass pressing against his cock. “That’s it?”
He murmured his assent against her throat as he kissed her.
>
Her throat contracted as she swallowed. “And you’ll help me?”
Damn right he would. He’d help her right into his arms. Just like approaching a wild animal, he’d move in increments.
He’d seen the change in her before and after their first scene, like all the stresses of the week had been flogged off her skin. Samantha had taken him aside later, thanking him for whatever he did. She’d also admitted she was worried for her best friend, and that Tovia would never speak aloud how much she’d needed release.
“Yes, love, I’ll help you.”
“I agree.” She paused, then tilted her head back against his shoulder. “Master Keilor.”
Fuck control. He pulled her off the bar and spun her around. He caught a flash of surprise in her chive-green eyes before he kissed her, swallowing down her moan.
He didn’t know how long they stood there, making out like teenagers, and he didn’t rightly care. She’d agreed to spend more time with him, which was a huge success in his book. “Good. We’ll finish this in private, then.”
She opened her mouth to protest, and he pressed his thumb over her lips. “You’re the submissive, Tovia. That means you have all the power. Here in the main room, and when we are alone. You’ve got me at your command.” If only she knew how true his statement was.
Some of the wariness slipped from her face and she nodded. Good.
From a small nearby table, Keilor snagged a fresh blanket and tossed it around Tovia’s shoulders. Before she could object, he swept her into his arms, flicked his chin up at Mike and Samantha, who paused their heated conversation to watch him leave. Mike gave a wink and Samantha flashed a subtle thumbs-up. Though nothing would have changed his mind at that point, short of Tovia’s objection, their support reassured him.
Now he just needed Tovia on his side…on their side.
Chapter 4
The good angel on her shoulder was telling her to safeword and get out. The little troublemaker had a voice eerily similar to her mother’s as she preached about the troubles men and relationships brought, and how she’d be better off, stronger, with only her friends and family. The devil on her other shoulder knocked out her counterpart before her poison words could get too far. Tovia knew this night was probably not her best idea in a long time, but damn did she need a little release. And no one but Master Keilor could do it for her.
