by Skylar Kade
She bit into her tempting bottom lip then complied. Her head rested against his knee and he stroked her silky red strands while he reminded himself to take things slow with her, hearing Samantha’s warning to be careful with Tovia.
Don’t scare her away. Don’t come on too strong. Don’t let her know how very much you want to keep her for your own.
Damn, he’d never been this full of doubt. What was it about this woman that did him in? As if he could hear Keilor’s every thought, Dimitri smirked then sauntered to the other end of the bar where Mike was now nursing a beer. At least he had a modicum of privacy, though not nearly as much as he’d like.
While there was no prohibited contact or scene play, so long as it was safe, sane and consensual, the things he had in mind for Tovia were acts he didn’t want anyone witnessing. His gut churned at the thought of other members—other Doms—watching Tovia come apart in his arms.
And if he had his way, she’d spend all night doing just that. He had limited time to convince her not to run from what was growing between them, and no end of pleasurable things he ached to do to her.
A little sigh huffed from her lips and her head sank against his thigh. From this angle, he could see her curves, front and back, encased in sinful black lace. No corset this week. God, she had beautiful breasts. High, soft, but not too big, balancing out the gentle curve of her hips like a 50’s pin-up. Her ass was barely contained in boyshort underwear in a dense black lace, showing just the barest glimpse of skin through the fabric. Across the room, Samantha caught his eye and gave him a knowing wink.
Fuck. Was he obvious to every damn member of the club? If the game was up, there was no use in waiting. “Come here, Tovia.”
She clambered to her feet, her eyes locking on his until they were eye to eye. He gave in, pulling her against his chest and wrapping his arms around her lithe form. He inhaled to take in the sweet, honey scent of her hair, biting back the groan building in his chest. She fit him perfectly. “We need to talk a bit before tonight begins. Would you like to do that upstairs or down here?”
Tovia retreated an inch or two, ducked her attention around the club. “Upstairs. Definitely.” The low, firm words zipped lust to his cock. Yes, she was out of her depth, but she knew what she wanted. To Keilor, there was nothing sexier.
Without another thought, Keilor swooped her up. “Wrap your legs around my waist.” Torture for him, feeling the heat of her pussy through his jeans, but so damn good, having her snugged up against his chest. She clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder as he took the stairs, ignoring the wolf whistle from Mike. Jealous bastard.
Like déjà vu, he carried Tovia to his room, but this time he was reluctant to set her down. He wanted to shove her panties aside and drive into her sweet, wet heat. Fuck the formalities and the slow introduction to his demands.
Instead, he tumbled her onto the bed, coming down after her. Before she could get a word out, he snagged her lips, inhaling her sigh as they kissed. Her fingers clawed at his back, pulling him closer. He pressed his erection against her core, rubbing in little circles while she moaned.
“Oh Sir, please…”
Her throaty cries made him crave her like a madman. Despite the temptation, he locked down his resolve. He did no more than kiss her, dipping his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth and skimming his hand up and down her side until he was dizzy with her taste and she lay taut as a bowstring beneath him.
He came up for air long minutes later. Shit, he needed to control himself better. Her lips were swollen and red, marks of his possession that only made him hotter. He wanted to cover her in love bites, delicious red welts, anything to signal to other men that they needed to back the fuck away from his woman. If only convincing her were as easy as kissing her.
When he was growing up, his father had always looked at his mother with such love, saying to him, “Son, I loved your mother the moment I saw her. We danced one dance at the town’s fall festival, and that was it. I knew she was meant for me. And she knew it too.”
That was what he’d grown up waiting for. He’d not been lucky, like his parents, to meet his other half at a young age. He had her now, though, and he’d be damned if he’d sacrifice a lifetime of happiness for one foolish night of sexual pleasure.
Keilor rolled from the bed, stalking across the room to his mini-fridge. Cool air wafted over his hand as he pulled two water bottles out and set them on top of the appliance. Behind him, the bed creaked. “Don’t move, firebird. You stay right there.”
She huffed, but obeyed. He took a long sip from one bottle, buying himself more time to get centered, before he turned back to her. Fuck.
Her red hair tumbled against his dark gray sheets like hot coals. Her thighs were still splayed open, and he could see faint red splotches on her hip where he’d gripped her against him. If she wasn’t the fucking sexiest sight he’d ever seen, especially with the damned lingerie setting off her milky skin.
Okay, Branson, you’ve been topping women for years. This shouldn’t be any different. It was, clearly, but that didn’t mean he could forego good scene etiquette. Not yet, not when they were still getting to know each other. Though he’d swear on his life he’d known Tovia forever.
He pulled a padded chair from the corner and set it down next to the bed so her legs splayed out on either side of him. “Come here, sweetheart.”
She sat up, eyes heavy and a sweet smile working at the corner of her lips. She was such a natural submissive. The bed dipped under her knees and he guided her to sit on the edge, her legs dangling over the edge. He reached down and slipped off her black flat-soled shoes before setting them at the corner of the bedframe, well out of the way.
“You need relief tonight.” Her body screamed to set down its burdens.
Her attention flicked around the room, landing on everything and nothing, before returning to him. Her hands clenched on the bedspread, her rounded French-tipped nails making him wish he were the one being touched. Her tongue flicked out across her bottom lip. “Yes. Sir.”
As he’d expected. “Relief from what?” He started running his hands up and down her thighs, warming her cool skin. Her green eyes went two shades darker between one slow blink and the next.
“Everything, I guess. I get through the week and it’s like my insides have been so twisted up. Like those old grandfather clocks that need to be wound up to run, but the opposite, because being wound up saps me of energy. And being here…being with you…it’s like a clean slate.”
Fuck. Her raw words scored at his heart. He could see fatigue in the slight lines around her eyes, the dip of her shoulders, even the little chips in her nail polish. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Anything you need, baby. I’m here to provide for you. Yes, I get pleasure out of this, but tonight is all about you, okay? Hell, it’s always about you.”
Her throat bobbed and her eyes sank closed. “Thank you Sir.”
Not another minute could pass with this distance between them. Keilor hauled her into his arms and settled her across his lap, her head lying against his shoulder. “Hard limits?”
“Same as before. No bondage, needles, medical. I can’t remember everything on the list I filled out the first night but—”
He squeezed her hip. “I have your list. I just wanted to hear it from you.” He paused a beat, wanting her to know what he had in store for tonight but bracing for a negative reaction. “What about sexual contact?”
Tension lined her back and her arms froze around his neck. She held her breath and he watched her eyes widen, pupils dilate, lashes flutter over her far-seeing eyes. “Oh yes,” she breathed. “I think I would like that very much.”
“Wonderful.” His lips sought out the sensitive juncture of her neck and dropped kisses on her skin. Pride blossomed in his chest when goose bumps exploded under his lips. A ragged inhale proclaimed her arousal. “Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes. Definitely, Sir.”
Chapter 7
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br /> The whole week, Tovia had ingrained in her mind that the club was a separate space from reality. She could be whoever she wanted in here, the perfect submissive, the giving lover, the tender partner. And once she left, that woman would stay behind and she could return to her safe, if boring, existence.
And that had all worked until Keilor kissed her, then she couldn’t imagine going one day, let alone one week, without tasting him again. She’d been off balance since. When he made his not-so-subtle offer of some full-body contact? Holy hotness, she was shocked her panties hadn’t melted straight to the floor. Every cell reached for him, practically laying back and screaming, “Take me now!”
Despite all those words of caution she’d heard ad nauseam since her father’s departure, Keilor’s mere presence burned away her fears, like nothing bad could ever happen in his presence. His touch had her believing in ridiculous things, futures that were not her own.
But for one night, she’d pretend. She’d let the walls of the club replace her own. When she left, she’d leave him behind and take with her all that wonderful stress relief…somehow.
Her skin buzzed like an electrical current ran from her toes through the top of her head, amping up when Keilor’s hot, possessive gaze swept over her. He reached around her back to unclasp her bra then pulled at the straps until she was bare. Her nipples tightened from the promise in his eyes.
“Lie back, spread eagle.”
She complied, blushing when she realized just how little her panties would hide her. She was wet, eager, sure he could smell her arousal. And that only made her hotter.
“I’m not going to bind you. But if you move, I will punish you.”
Tovia about melted just from his rumbling voice and his commands. She hushed the voice that whispered she was giving over too much power. This felt too damn good to be wrong.
Then he turned away and she almost called out, not wanting him to leave her while she was splayed out on the bed. When he was near, she was safe, free. Once she saw he wasn’t going too far, she drank him in. He pulled open the doors to a cabinet tucked in the corner, then rummaged through the drawers. He had to bend down to do that, and boy did he have a nice ass. For someone whose trade was amazing gourmet food, he had a smoking body. Maybe it was all muscle from flogging submissives on the weekend.
She frowned, then quashed the ridiculous flicker of jealousy. But the little ache in her sternum wouldn’t quite fade, not until he returned with a crop in his hands. The wide, flat flap of leather at the end sucked in all the light like a black hole, ominous, luring her in. He’d used his hands on her, and what hands they were, but this was new. Would it sting more than a spanking? Be sharper than a flogging?
Her stomach muscled clenched. He’d brought her delicious pleasure-pain so far; she’d have to trust him on this. Two weeks ago, she would have been running from the room. Now she craved it. Craved him.
Relaxing into the moment, savoring the anticipation as he loomed over her, she let her eyes drift close. Thwack! She arched off the bed in surprise, the sting of his first blow trickling away from her thigh.
“Keep your eyes on me.”
She couldn’t don a poker face to save her life. Tovia shook her head and mashed her eyelids closed. Another strike, then another, more, danced over her legs. They stole her breath, made her pussy clench. A moan worked free of her clenched teeth and the blows stopped. Her eyes popped open and she stared at Master Keilor, begging him to continue.
“That’s what I want. You have beautiful eyes, firebird. You’re beautiful.”
If he told her, in that voice, that the sky was green, she couldn’t doubt him for a second. No way in hell would she look away now, not when his attention was her reward.
The crop fell upon her flesh like a stinging metronome until her breathing and heartbeat slowed to keep time with it. Master Keilor covered every inch of her body except her nipples, and now they ached from neglect.
His next stroke came down harder, the crop landing on her mound. Her hips bucked upwards, craving more contact from him, but she wouldn’t move more than that. His words had bound her more effectively than any ropes could.
She’d leave the terror of that realization for later, when it wasn’t buried under an intense desire for more, like standing on the edge of something wonderful and needing a shove to take the last step.
Master Keilor knew, though, and with a heart-stopping grin, gave it to her. He tossed aside the crop then his body blanketed hers, the rough fabric of his jeans rough and pleasurable on her tender legs. One hand dipped against her core, his fingers slipping under her panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
His voice shivered through her body and when his fingertips, rough from working in the kitchen, slid across her clit, she convulsed under him, gasping his name.
“Don’t come without permission, firebird.”
Now he told her? She groaned in frustration and anticipation. Obeying seemed possible, until he dipped his head to take one eager nipple into his mouth. His goatee rubbed across her breast, burning over her sensitive nipple. Each touch smothered her under bliss until she couldn’t tell which way was up.
With a growl, he yanked at the side of her underwear. With a tear, they gave way and he chuckled before nibbling his way up her chest to her neck. “You’re going to come for me soon, aren’t you.” His fingers, no longer constrained by her lace boyshorts, plunged into her and stroked over her g-spot.
She surged up against him. “Master Keilor, please!”
“Please what?”
Years of her mother’s warnings never to beg a man for anything warred with her desperate need to come. When his teeth nibbled at her earlobe and his thumb skimmed across her clit, the scales tipped. “God, Sir, please let me come. Touch me, please, I need you—”
Her words were silenced by his fierce kiss. She drowned in his taste and the lemon scent of his skin and his complete possession of her body. She whimpered, almost moved her arms to claw at his back and hold him close but she froze in place.
“Good girl,” he rasped against her lips. “You’re so fucking perfect, Tovia. Come for me baby, come now.” He added a third finger, stretching her around him and flicking across her clit with his thumbnail. Almost there…he moved downward and his teeth sank into the upper curve of her breast, the pain hurtling her into orgasm.
She screamed his name and shook beneath his hard body, letting him wring every ounce of pleasure from her until she sprawled, limp, across his bed. She floated, taking stock of her tender skin, the delicious ache between her legs, the throbbing teeth marks gracing her breast, and the man, lying next to her with his eyes taking in her every breath, who made it all happen.
Tears, from nowhere, choked her. She tried to swallow them down, but that only made her eyes water.
Master Keilor cursed and pulled her into his arms. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. Let it out.” He surrounded her with warmth, rubbing a big hand up and down her back. His legs twined with hers and he tucked her against his chest. When he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and rested his cheek against her hair, she could no longer hold back.
Tovia bawled like a baby, still not sure why she was crying but feeling cleaner, lighter, with every tear. And not once did he try to retreat or hide from her wild overreaction. She recalled, as a child, her mother sneaking into her room to cry, not wanting Tovia’s father to see her. It was safer for her mother. Tovia had absorbed the habit, like so many others that hadn’t faded from the behavioral repertoire of the Douglas women.
Sure Keilor had had enough, and beyond embarrassed, she started to pull away. His rumbling laugh vibrated through her chest and his arms tightened around her. “Not yet, firebird.”
Uncomfortable in the situation now that she’d come back to her senses, she hunched in on herself and waited for the other shoe to drop. After a couple minutes, Master Keilor sighed and sat up from the bed. She flinched.
“What’s wrong, Tovia?” He sounded…hurt.
&nb
sp; By degrees she opened her eyes. He was propped up on one arm. His other hand combed through the short stubble on his scalp as he stared at her like she’d grown a second head.
Great. Crying all over him was bad enough—yeah, there was a big wet patch on his T-shirt from her tears—but now she’d held up a neon BAGGAGE HERE sign, like some demented Lloyd Dobler.
Maybe he could read her discomfort, or maybe he’d had enough. Keilor scooted off the bed and sat in the chair he’d occupied earlier.
She rose, intent on dressing and getting the hell out. Keilor’s hand shot out to splay across her stomach. “No.” Her heart sank. It would be easier to just leave.
Weary, she tried to move his hand from her body, but he shook his head. “You only have two options here, Tovia. Safeword and leave, or stay and talk. You agreed to honesty between us. It’s the foundation of any BDSM relationship, no matter how brief.”
Library was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say it. Keilor leaned forward, one elbow on his knee and a tight dark gray T-shirt stretched across his chest. She searched his face for any sign of anger. Saw nothing but concern and a hint of hurt. Even now, she wanted to reach out and soothe him, brush a kiss across his mouth and wrap herself around him until the worry eased from his face.
Damnit, she wasn’t ready to leave him behind yet, which left just one option. In all likelihood, he’d show her the door himself once she explained.
Not willing to watch his reaction, she closed her eyes and fisted the comforter to ground herself. “Crying is not something I’m…comfortable with.”
The chair creaked and then Keilor’s warm body was behind hers, making her feel warm and safe. She’d expected that single statement would have been enough of a red flag to him and she’d need to say nothing further.
Like he could read her doubts in the lines of her body, Keilor nestled her under his chin. “Let it out, love. There’s nothing you can say that will drive me away.”
