by Chloe Cox
Her eyes got even wider, if that were possible.
“You wouldn’t,” she said.
Luke grinned.
“Believe me,” he said. “I would.”
Now her eyes softened, shining in the low, warm light, and he found he couldn’t look away. She smiled, and with that same gesture she’d used before, she reached up and touched his cheek.
“I don’t think I’ve ever believed in anyone the way I believe in you,” she said.
Regret flickered in his heart and he wished, for a moment, that he deserved that kind of faith. But he didn’t, and he couldn’t do anything about that. But Charlene deserved the best, and he was going to make damn sure he gave it to her.
They were alone now, outside in the night air, under the slatted roof he’d built for her gazebo. The lights were on in the house where trainees would be scrubbing her kitchen until it shone, but no one would bother them.
She was all his.
Luke withdrew his hand from between her legs and she sighed a little mournfully, but he only smiled. He wanted to get a good look at her first. He wanted to remember this.
“Lean back,” he said, and held her in his left arm while his right was free to roam.
He raised that right hand to cup her face as she looked up at him, eyes dark and liquid. Slowly Charlene began to lean back, her eyes still on him, until she was lying open across him, every part of her offered up to him. Luke stared at her, his cock throbbing against his leg, his heart thundering in his chest. Just the sight of this woman could make him move. Could make him need.
He brushed his thumb across her lips, then ran his hand from her cheek to her neck, his fingers dancing over her collarbone, his palm squeezing her breast as she arched into him. Fuck. Everything in him ached to take her right then, right there, but he needed more than that. He needed his sub far into subspace, far beyond fear, for what he wanted to give her.
“Get up,” he said. “And bend over the table.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Charlene was so dizzy with desire, need thrumming through her body with every single touch, that the only thing that cut through the sensation was Luke’s own words:
Bend.
Over.
Those words already had her core tightening, her skin buzzing. Did he remember the fantasy she’d stared with him? Would he…
She looked up at her Dom’s expectant face and jumped up with a little thrill. He chuckled softly as she scrambled out of his lap and cleared the plates and silverware with a sweep of her arm, making a place for herself on the table that he’d built for her with his own two hands.
She could feel him behind her. Watching.
She took a deep breath and slowly hinged at the waist, her open palms finding the smooth linen of the tablecloth as it made contact with her lower belly, her nipples, her cheek. She took one final breath, pressed her palms into the table next to her head, and raised her ass in the air as high as it would go.
She was breathing erratically, rapidly, each ragged breath pushing her sensitive breasts into the hard table. Each passing moment pushing her a little bit higher.
Finally, she heard him get up.
Felt the rough texture of his jeans against the backs of her bare legs as he pulled her dress up, over her hips.
Saw his giant hand encircle her one wrist, then the other, as he brought her hands to the small of her own back and held them there.
He did remember. Charlene closed her eyes against the intensity of the moment, the disorientation, and turned inward, like her whole being concentrated in her glowing core, a tiny ball of light begging to burn hotter, brighter, wetter. Her whole being conscious of just the parts that were bare to him.
He dragged a hand up her leg, over her ass, and cupped her again, letting a single finger dip briefly inside her. She was so close that just that little touch made her bear down and cry out, and she heard him chuckle again.
“Not yet,” he said.
Definitely an order.
He pulled away, and she sighed with frustration, just as his hand came down on her bare cheek with enough force to jolt her forward. She groaned as the sharp sting faded into a wave of pleasure that rolled through her body. He didn’t lift his hand, but gripped her flesh instead, before sliding his hand between her legs for one more delirious stroke through her folds. Charlene moaned again, and the hand was gone, only to come crashing into her ass again, hard this time, faster. Again he caressed her on the down stroke, her own wetness leaving a mark on her, and again he spanked her, the rhythm picking up, pain, pleasure, pain pleasure, painpleasure, until she was on the brink, each breath bringing new oxygen to her core and making the flame glow even hotter.
Just as she felt herself begin to float away in a sea of sensation, ready to ride whatever he would give her, he let go of her hands and pulled her up from the table. He turned her around, her dress still bunched up, and quickly unzipped her. In just a few seconds her dress had fallen to her feet and Luke had taken hold her hand, helping her to step out of it and into the warm candlelight, completely naked.
She was more than naked in front of Luke. It was as though he could see through her skin to that burning, yearning core.
He turned her in his hands so that he could see each part of her body in the warm glow of flame. His fingers drew lines along the shadows, leaving shadows in their wake and making her knees tremble. She knew she soon wouldn’t be able to stand—and that her Dom would catch her when she buckled.
Silently he led her to the center of the gazebo, under the raised part of the slatted roof, where they could look up at the stars. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of it. She felt exposed in the open air.
But she always felt exposed around him.
And she definitely knew what that shape was, behind him. The support beams for the gazebo weren’t just supports.
Luke caught her jaw in his hand, forcing her to look at him. She could lose herself in those gold-flecked blue depths. That was why her heart pounded. She knew what the supports were, and now she was drowning. “Do you trust me?”
Once again, all she could do was speak the truth.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. Because it was true. It was freaking true.
The gold of his eyes caught fire and he spread a blaze of needy heat along Charlene’s cheek, trailing it down to her hip and ass. Every inch of her body responded to his touch with her own fire, her own need. Her toes curled against the floor. Her spine arched to bring her ribcage nearer to his hand. Her thighs quivered.
His kiss crashed over her, swift and savage. It melted her. She was boneless.
Luke turned her to face the center of the gazebo. His hands gently shackled her wrists, lifting them toward the supports. She had been so wrapped up in Luke that she’d forgotten, until that moment, that the gazebo’s supports served multiple purposes. There were cuffs on the upper diagonal pieces.
It was a St. Andrew’s Cross, and he was binding her to it.
Holy mother of God, but she was beautiful. His sub—his Charlene—was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Not just because of what she looked like, though her image was branded on his brain for the rest of his life.
Because of the way she looked at him. At life. At the St. Andrew’s Cross that he knew scared her.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said in a quiet, firm voice. “This St. Andrew’s cross belongs to you now, Charlene. It belongs to the two of us in this moment. Do you understand?”
She was beyond words. She swallowed hard and nodded.
“You’re going to maintain eye contact with me while we use this,” he said.
Another nod.
His lips dropped to her ear, and he inhaled her scent before he spoke again.
He said, “Every time you think of a St. Andrew’s Cross from now on, this is what you’re going to think about.”
He raked his fingertips down her body, clawing a path of faint red lines from collarbone t
o navel.
And then he dipped his fingers between her legs again.
She was soaking. Still wet from the table.
The pad of his finger rolled over her clit. With her eyes still locked on his, he could see exactly where it felt good, and the exact point where it was too intense. He swirled his finger along all the right lines. Her eyes began to roll back.
“Look at me,” he said.
She tried to focus. “Luke…” She had the glassy-eyed look of a woman wracked with fever.
Her mouth opened in a silent cry.
Luke didn’t break eye contact, even as she came on his hand, thighs clutching his wrist.
He didn’t lose focus.
His hand continued to roll, watching her for cues. Seeing what felt best. Making sure that the only thoughts in her mind were good ones.
When she smelled pine chips in the decorative wedding vases, she would think of the pine St. Andrew’s Cross. When she saw sweat beading along Luke’s brow on a summer day, she’d remember their mingled fluids, the friction between them. When she felt the kiss of a cool night, she would remember the orgasms he brought to her, over and over again, right on that St. Andrew’s Cross.
It was the only one permitted to remain within her mind.
Luke lost track of himself in Charlene’s eyes. The way that she looked at him was soft, almost like…
“Please,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.
He sank to his knees in front of her, hands trailing from her hips to her ankles. The locks fell open in his hands. He sank his teeth gently into her calf, and Charlene gasped and jerked.
When he stood, he was harder than he’d even been in his life.
His belt jingled as he opened it. “Keep looking at me.”
Luke punctuated that statement by lifting her from the legs, hiking her knees up and pressing his erection against her hot core. The way that his cock strained inside his jeans was agonizing. The only thing that could relieve his pain would be burying himself inside of her. He needed to make her feel as good as she made him feel.
She coiled her legs over his elbows. Just the feeling of her smooth thighs against his biceps, combined with the neediness in her eyes, brought him to the brink of climax.
Luke could have lived off the sounds she was making deep in her throat. He’d be dreaming about her twitching hips for weeks to come. She was grinding against him, reacting to his rock-hard shaft unconsciously.
He released his cock, his eyes never leaving hers. He could see the hunger there, the need for him. But she didn’t waver. And the look in her eyes wasn’t just lust, it was…
It wasn’t enough. He needed more.
Their gazes remained joined as he pushed himself between her slick lips. He hesitated at the brink, trailing his thumb along the line of her bottom lip. “Charlene,” he rasped.
“Please,” she said.
He hoisted her higher, just as he had the first time. She dangled in his arms. He pressed them together in almost an embrace—he couldn’t get Charlene close enough. He could have kissed every inch of her bare skin and it would never have been enough, without this.
And then their eyes locked again and the connection surged through him, and he was done. He couldn’t wait any more. He lifted her just an inch higher and then let her sink down as he drove into her, and as soon as he was buried inside her he was lost.
No more control. No more words. Just Charlene.
Luke plunged into Charlene. Their bodies met. He clutched her face in one hand and her hip in the other, trying to ground himself when giddy sensation had carried him beyond reality. They moved together and he tasted salt on his lips.
They never stopped looking at each other. They made new memories woven from their jittering heartbeats, the press of wood, and the firm embrace of leather straps.
He kept eye contact as he drove into her, again and again, his cock aching as she squeezed around him, as their bodies melded together in seamless liquid heat the ground was no longer steady under Luke’s feet. The world had shifted around him and Charlene, and now he was on unfamiliar slopes. He was teetering on the brink of a very long fall.
He thrust into her with greater desperation and as felt her start to contract around him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold off, that his own release was upon him.
And he knew, in that moment, that the St. Andrew’s Cross would never be the same for him, either.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Charlene woke up slowly, deliciously, and then—all at once.
She was sleeping on Luke, her head nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her hand on his chest. In her bed. And she had been all night.
He had held her, all night.
And he still held her—from his breathing, she could tell he was awake, but his arms cradled her tenderly, and every once in a while his lips brushed against the top of her head.
Charlene sighed. It was like they’d been sleeping together for years. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept this well.
The only thing that kept her from moving and breaking the spell was a dull awareness, somewhere in the back of her brain, that something had changed.
Last night had definitely been different. She didn’t even know what it was, exactly—it was just a scene, from the outside, like any other D/s scene. Except that he’d built her that cross because he knew what it could mean for her. Because without anyone telling him, he saw her, more than she even saw herself.
And after they’d finally come together, he’d stayed buried inside her while they shuddered together, a sheen of sweat covering them both while aftershocks swept through them, like he was unable to let go. They’d stayed like that, with him supporting her weight, with Charlene looking up at the stars, for what seemed like hours. And before he’d released her bonds, Luke had kissed her neck, so softly she wasn’t sure she was supposed to notice.
And then he’d carried her through her nice, clean house all the way up to her bed, and he’d held her the whole night.
Basically a kinky fairytale, right there.
And Charlene did not believe in fairytales. Especially not fairytales where the prince had been really clear on not wanting romantic relationships of any kind, and Cinderella had said she was fine with that.
Did she?
She let her eyes flicker up towards his face, just at the edge of her vision, and what she saw there gave her pause. While he held her so tenderly, Luke looked away in the distance, his brow furrowed.
His expression troubled.
Then he looked down.
“You’re up.” The words rumbled in his muscled chest, and Charlene couldn’t suppress a smile at the sound.
She also couldn’t keep herself from playfully dragging her nails across that chest.
Luke growled, and fisted his hand in her hair, holding her head back for a deep, claiming kiss.
“My sub needs better manners,” he said
Charlene’s breath hitched. First thing in the morning, and he could make her instantly wet. Even if she was a little bit sore.
She looked down as he released her head to see his massive erection tenting up the sheet like a promise. Her eyes widened a bit. She honestly didn’t know if she could take it this morning, but she was more than willing to find out.
Only Luke wasn’t.
He slid his shoulder out from under her and swung his legs out over the side of the bed as he got up, grabbing a towel as he walked towards her bathroom. For just a second, he paused.
“You better believe I’m gonna teach you those manners later,” he said with just a hint of a grin.
She couldn’t help it. Even when she was a little disappointed, she couldn’t look at him with anything other than…
Oh shit.
Time slowed down. Charlene’s eyes widened as she watched Luke pad toward her bathroom, as he shook his leg out mid-stride. Just a little gesture. But such a human gesture.
Such a stupid, little thing, but it was everything.
He wasn’t just her Dom anymore. He was her man. A man she wanted to know, for better or for worse. A man she wanted to care for. A man…
Oh God. I’m in love with him.
The one thing she couldn’t do. The one thing she knew she had to protect herself from.
And she’d gone ahead and done it anyway.
She watched him disappear behind the closing bathroom door and then dived into her mass of pillows to scream just a little bit. What an epic disaster. What a total and utter catastrophe. What a mess.
How did I let this happen?
And why can’t I stop smiling?
She tried to list the reasons why it was totally insane while her heart pounded in her chest so loudly she was half afraid he would hear it from the freaking bathroom. True, they had an understanding that this was definitely not a romantic relationship—but she’d been there last night; she’d seen the way he looked at her. It was the same way she’d been looking at him.
She knew he felt it.
But he was still so…closed off.
Charlene didn’t know much about his past except what she’d been able to piece together. But she knew it was full of pain. His father, at least, had really done a number on him.
But maybe he’d just been respecting the limits of the arrangement, protecting her from all of that. He didn’t know that Charlene wanted to know about all of it. She wanted to know all the things that scared him, that drove him, as much as she wanted to know about the things that he loved.
She wanted all of him now. Not just the Dom.
And that alone was a freaking miracle. Just a few months ago she never would have trusted herself to make a choice like this, let alone trusted anyone else to make her feel the way Luke made her feel. And she had him to thank for all of it.
She was so delirious she didn’t notice that his phone was buzzing until it had buzzed itself right off the bedside table and onto the floor with a loud thump.
What happened next totally wasn’t her fault.
She reached down to get his phone, just out of reflex, and then she saw the lock screen, also out of reflex. That wasn’t her fault. And she read the text message notification the same way: one hundred percent reflex.
