by Skylar Kade
Ah, she undid him. He’d known the mental and visual bondage would aid her, but that, he did not expect. He figured she’d resist, fight the cuffs and what they represented. Not thank him. He rubbed his chest, wondering if it would hurt less for her to actually burrow in there and curl around his heart.
“No, firebird. Thank you. Your submission is a gift.”
Chapter 10
Like the words held some kind of voodoo magic, her submission bled all the poison from her body. Nothing mattered outside the walls of Apogee—Keilor stood strong between her and the world. Grounded by the collar and cuffs, by his signs of possession, she felt safe enough to let down her guard. He wouldn’t run or make her feel guilty or take advantage of her kindness.
He was everything her family wasn’t. Maybe he could love her better than them too.
The revelation dizzied her, but before she could spiral off into panic his palm cracked across her ass and echoed through the empty room. She jolted against the horse, the metal rings in her cuffs ringing against her handholds. His hand came down again and again, each time stripping off a layer of thought and worry until only the soul of her was left. Even the small air currents from his movements seared her tender skin and cauterized her mind.
She’d lost all sense of time, only knowing her arms ached from gripping the handles and she was wet, eager for him to lay final claim to her body. Not that he hadn’t fucked her before, but this night was different. Whether that conclusion was borne of sound logic or subspace distortion she couldn’t tell.
Then, blissfully, she heard the rasp of a zipper, the soft whish of clothing. A gentle tug at her collar had her standing up from the spanking horse, albeit a bit wobbly on her wedges. Keilor hauled her against his strong chest, letting her regain balance for a moment, before he led her to a gym mat laid under the skylight. A soft blue blanket covered almost the whole surface. Keilor laid her down, running his fingers up and down her body.
She writhed under his attention, arching her back in a silent plea. She needed his touch on her tight nipples, on her swollen clit, or she’d go crazy. She wouldn’t beg, wouldn’t disobey his order for silence, but did she ever plea with her body.
Then, finally, when she was as primed as a wind-up car, his mouth closed around one breast, his tongue flickering over her needy peak. He kissed down her body right to the heart of her, biting down on the soft flesh where her leg and hip joined. She jerked against him, the sharp pain a stark contrast to the dull throb of arousal. Frantic hands stripped the panties from her body. When his lips finally closed around her clit and sucked, she almost cried in relief. Her blood raced, pounding like wild horses through her veins until, when he eased two fingers inside her waiting sheath, stars danced across her vision.
“Please, Sir!” She tried to bite back her words, but it was too late. She hunched her shoulders, not wanting to see his disappointment.
Instead, he laughed—low and ominous. “You held out longer than I predicted. Good girl.” His body moved over hers, blocking out the edge of the moon that peeked through the skylight. In one sharp thrust, he entered her, filling her and stretching her tissues to the point of glorious pleasure-pain.
“Sir!” Her moan filled the whole play space and echoed off the walls. She hurtled toward orgasm, her pussy clenching around Keilor every time he hit all the good spots inside her. Her fingers tangled through her hair, needing something solid to grip. He shifted, pulling at her hands until they lay against the mat above her head. Pressing against them with one big hand, he effectively bound her down.
A moment of sheer panic swamped all rational thought, interrupted only by Keilor’s low rumble. “So beautiful, so perfect. Mine.” His hips resumed their rhythm, sharp pleasure clearing away the cobwebs of fear. She pulled against his hand and found her wrists solidly pinned to the mat.
Her womb twitched and she could feel her nipples swell. It shouldn’t turn her on, being helpless. But as he kept up his litany of praises, loving her with his body, she realized she wasn’t helpless. She had her safewords, and she knew Keilor would die before not honoring them.
Power surged through her and she crested up on it, reaching for that blissful release Keilor had been building in her all night.
“You’re not allowed to come without permission,” he breathed against her neck before nibbling at the upper swell of her breast.
No! She was so close and his biting only edged her nearer to orgasm. She panicked, mewling at her predicament.
“Just a little longer, firebird.” She strained at his hand, bucked against his body, maintained her grip on sanity through sheer force of will.
“Come with me, come for me, baby.”
She exploded.
Shockwaves of release shook her body, wiped clear all rational thought. Desperate cries worked from her throat and when she felt him swell and thrust deep inside her once more, all her walls collapsed. “I love you.”
***
The uncensored words rang through the club and Keilor froze above her, his features carefully blank.
She silently cursed a blue streak and braced for his reaction. Could she be more of a cliché? Intent on taking them back, she inhaled. “I didn’t—”
Keilor kissed her. “Shh. Wait here and I’ll be right back.” He rose, snagged his clothes, and headed for the stairs up to his private suite.
Not the reaction she’d expected. She waited for the other shoe to drop or for him to absolve her. She didn’t dare hope to hear him return the sentiment.
Silence screamed in the large, open room and Tovia curled in on herself, only moving when Keilor, fully clothed, returned with a robe for her to wear out. He tucked her under his arm as they walked across the parking lot, which only made the situation worse, like he was placating her. The night spread out in sharp focus. Every evening desert sound echoed through her ears. She was hyper-aware of the man next to her, silent and brooding.
Until they got in the car and started driving, Tovia had almost expected him to call her a cab. But that would have been against every gentlemanly bone in his body, and over the past two weeks he’d shown her just how gallant he could be. So when he drove back to his place, she didn’t quite let down her guard.
As they pulled into the apartment parking lot, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and immediately silenced the call. She did not want to talk to her mother, not now. Keilor looked at her from across the stick shift, but said nothing.
Once he parked in his spot, Keilor gave her a perfunctory kiss on the forehead and got out. She didn’t wait for him to come around and open her door, instead hopping out to meet him at the rear bumper. He shot her a funny look, then shrugged, the dim parking structure lights bringing out the scattered blonde hairs twinkling from his buzzed brown hair. She wanted to run her fingers through the stubble, loving the way it abraded her skin, but he didn’t look very welcoming at the moment. Not unwelcoming, really, but too pensive to be reassuring.
Whatever. If he wanted to hash things out in private, or write her statement off to post-orgasmic brainmelt, she was fine with that. She’d meant the words, but boy was her timing shit.
Like they’d done this a million times instead of a mere handful, they cut a diagonal across the second floor of the structure and entered the hallway connecting to his apartment floor. She got to the door first and punched in the code he’d given her the night of their first “real” date, when she’d refused to let him pick her up, instead insisting she drive. He’d humored her then, as she suspected he was doing now.
He followed her down the hall, looming over her shoulder and getting her hackles up. Why wouldn’t he just say something? For that matter, why didn’t she just leave and go home?
The thought deflated her. She probably wasn’t very welcome at home now. Maybe she’d grab a cab, snag a room at the Hellena for a night or two while she figured things out. Take advantage of her employee discount for once.
Her phone rang again, the happy jingle gratin
g on her nerves. Though tempted to chuck it down the lushly carpeted hallway, she once again sent the call to voicemail while Keilor unlocked his front door.
She wondered how much more awkward it would make things if she asked to sleep on the couch.
He set his keys down on the glass entryway table and turned to her. “Tovia…”
One hand up, she silenced him. “Please, Keilor, not tonight. Please.” She didn’t want to hear his words, selected and assembled to let her down gently. If he loved her too, he would have already said it. Whatever sense of closure he needed could wait until morning. She’d give herself the night to pretend none of this had happened and savor his presence for a few more hours.
Mouth set in a grim line, he nodded.
“I’ll sleep on the couch if that’s better, or take a cab—”
He cut her off with a searing kiss, backing her against the front door and boxing her in with his body. “You’re not going anywhere, Tovia. I’ll respect your wishes to talk about this tomorrow, but I’ll be damned if you leave tonight.”
Too weary to begin deciphering his hot and cold reactions, Tovia nodded and let Keilor lead her across the expansive main room and into the bedroom, dropping her purse on the kitchen bar top as they passed. As soon as she glimpsed the warm, waiting comfort of his memory foam bed, the day exacted its revenge on her.
Eyes heavy, she somehow shucked her clothes, leaving them in a pile she vowed to fold in the morning. At this point, she didn’t care whether or not Keilor followed. She crawled under the covers and let sleep take over, only barely conscious when his strong arms surrounded her.
Chapter 11
After tossing and turning until five a.m., Keilor gave up on sleep. Tovia, once she’d drifted off, had snuggled deeper into his embrace, and he found himself studying the curve of her jaw, the fine red hair spilling across her cheek.
I love you…
Her voice echoed through his head on repeat. Why hadn’t he replied? He did love her. After seeing decades of his parents’ fairy-tale romance, it was a given that he’d have no problem offering those three words to his other half. Then Tovia let them slip while heavy into subspace and his reply choked on self-doubt. She’d gone all deer-in-the-headlights after saying the words and the last thing he wanted was to confess his feelings then have her pull away because her I love you had slipped out on a subspace endorphin rush, not truth.
Then things got awkward and he tried to play it cool even as his palms got clammy and all his “Dommy Self-Assurance,” as Samantha liked to say, slid through his fingers. Just as he feared Tovia would. What he wouldn’t give to read her mind…
Keilor slipped out of bed and headed for the balcony jutting off his kitchen. He looked over the strip, letting the city sounds wash away his racing thoughts. It was like scrubbing at a grease stain with water—useless, spreading the stain around.
Okay, Branson, get your shit together.
If Tovia said the words accidentally and he told her he loved her, she could cut and run. Though she had been spending more and more time with him, building what he would normally classify as a relationship, they’d never really talked about what their intentions were. It wasn’t something he’d thought necessary, but maybe it was. He’d seen everything through the lens of his parents’ perfect courtship.
Damnit.
And if Tovia had meant the words, and he didn’t reply, he was the worst sort of ass for not being honest when he demanded the same from her.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, Keilor set aside the brooding and decided a run would clear his head. He’d figure it out, though it was cold comfort at the moment.
Moving silently through his bedroom, he slipped into track pants and a Viva Las Vegas T-shirt his old kitchen staff had given him as a going away gift. Aside from the moment the tee slipped over his head, he couldn’t tear his gaze from Tovia, still and at peace in his bed. A little smile curved her lips.
She looked right, lying there. Her arm reached across the bed to his empty spot and under other circumstances he’d say she looked like a woman in love with her bed partner.
With a frown, he unearthed his running shoes from the pile of clothes Tovia had dropped the night before. Knowing how she hated mess, he took a moment and folded everything atop his dresser, then left.
He debated leaving her a note, but he’d only be gone an hour, and Tovia would sleep late. She’d confessed, during one of their late-night chats, that she loved working the mid shift so she could sleep in and stay up late. The Vegas life suited his woman.
Besides, given everything he needed so say, a note just wouldn’t suffice.
With a soft click, he closed the door behind him and headed for the stairs, eager for his run to begin. He needed a little clarity, and it could come none too soon.
Chapter 12
A ringing phone yanked her from a dream chock full of warm fuzzies. She fumbled for it, not wanting the noise to wake Keilor. Through bleary eyes, she checked the caller ID and saw her sister.
“’Lo?” She cleared her throat and shoved a hand through her hair to get it out of her face.
“Oh thank God!” Her melodramatic sister had an added panic to her voice this morning. If this was the result of her first breakup, maybe Amelia Douglas was right to keep her youngest daughter away from men.
“You know it’s the asscrack of dawn, right?” Not a morning person was an overly generous description of Tovia, who didn’t quite feel human until after long, hot shower and industrial-strength coffee ran through her veins. She turned over to make sure she hadn’t woken Keilor, then frowned at the empty bed.
It was only seven a.m., so he should still be asleep. They kept near the same schedule, and he didn’t have a crazy sister calling him at all hours. She thought.
Her frown deepened. They hadn’t really talked about family. She’d always steered away from that conversation, not wanting to explain…any of it, not more than she had during The Great TearFest.
“…Mom’s in the hospital!” Her sister’s dog-whistle exclamation retracted Tovia’s attention from her missing…lover? Partner? Dom? In a chill rush, last night’s events flooded her, superseded only by her sister’s last statement.
The hospital? “Rachel, calm down. Amelia checked herself in just a couple weeks ago for nothing.” If this was another bid for attention, then Tovia didn’t have one ounce of guilt over their conversation yesterday.
Silence. Dread pooled in her stomach. Rachel was never silent. One sniffle, then another, came through the line. “She had a heart attack.”
Rachel’s statement was so soft, so unbelievable, that Tovia did a mental double take. As the avalanche of panic started falling on her, Tovia partitioned, walling herself off from everything—her sister’s panic, her mother’s health, Keilor—except the facts. “Rachel, where are you now?”
Another sob. “Spring Valley Hospital.”
What the fuck? “Why are you here and not in Boston? Don’t you have exams coming up?”
“They called me last night and I caught a red-eye. They said they couldn’t get hold of you.”
Guilt crashed through her triage walls. “When is your next final?” Tovia put her cell on speakerphone and searched the room for the clothes she’d balled up on the floor, supremely confused when she found them folded on the dresser.
“My econ professor is letting me take the final tomorrow. But I don’t know if I can make it and I haven’t finished studying and they won’t tell me when Mom’s getting out and I had no idea where you were and—”
“Rachel!” Tovia let her eyes sink closed. Her sister’s panic sank teeth into her neck, which was already prickling from the state of her clothes. Her neatly folded outfit, the empty bed, the silent apartment, all implied a polite get out. Whether she was reading into it or not, she needed to leave, now. Glancing around the room, then poking her head out to look over the main room, Tovia hoped she’d see a note from him. She wanted certainty. Closure, maybe.
/> He’d left nothing and she wouldn’t wait around for Keilor to return. She’d put him before her mother once already, and that had blown up in her face.
Fuck. Tears built behind her eyes. “Rachel, I am on my way.” It would take ten, maybe twenty minutes to get over there. Cabs were dime a dozen on Keilor’s street, and at this hour, traffic should be light. “Book your flight home, I don’t care how much it costs, just put it on my credit card.” She winced at the added cost to her balance, but prioritized. Tovia had made Rachel an authorized user for emergencies, and this certainly counted. She’d simply need to eat a few more home-cooked dinners for the next, oh, four months.
“Oh…okay. I put my plane ticket here on it too.”
Okay, eight months. She pushed back at her anger. Yes, Rachel had a job on campus but she’d needed to fly out here in the first place because of Tovia’s irresponsibility. That felt better—guilt was so much more appropriate than anger.
She grabbed her purse and flew from the apartment, taking the stairs down to ground level. She ruthlessly ignored the hurt that Keilor had left before he talked to her. She could be disappointed in him—and in her shitty loose-lipped relationship faux pas—later.
While she hailed a cab and instructed Rachel to head back to their mother’s room once she had her flight information, Tovia pulled her wallet from her back pocket and snagged a twenty, not wanting a single thing slowing her from reaching the hospital.
A yellow taxi pulled up to the curb as she hung up with Rachel. Tovia hopped in the backseat. “Spring Valley Hospital. And please, for the love of God, avoid the Strip.”
As the cab wove through the side streets, she stared out the window and tried to ignore the too-cheerful video that played on a backseat screen. Hotelier Irving Carraway welcomed tourists to his fair city, enumerating the amenities at his various hotels. When he mentioned “celebrity chef Keilor Branson,” her heart stopped.
For the rest of the ride, she did her best to clear her head, employing all the deep breathing and meditation tricks she’d tried to learn. Nothing worked like she needed and after seeing what Master Keilor could do for her, she doubted anything else would ever be enough relief.
