by Liz Crowe
Chapter Sixteen
As we lay, piled on top of the now damp and disheveled silk coverlet on the giant bed in the strange, dark, sexy room, I had an epiphany. I’ll admit that I’d done some research into this lifestyle after Evelyn had told me about Trent’s kink. I’ll also admit that most of what I read I didn’t like. It seemed demeaning on too many levels. As if being a woman in a man’s world wasn’t hard enough, why subject yourself willingly to this kind of thing?
I’d even bought a few of the dollar romance novels in the BDSM category online, finding many of them poorly written, and some of them pretty hot. But I still had the feeling that the fantasy of having some guy tie you up and spank you a bit on the throwback side of things.
But you did this anyway, you silly hypocrite.
Yes, because I will freely admit that I was curious to figure out what about it appealed to Trent. He and I had had sex in so many fun ways already, without all this stuff, I had to know why I sensed that he was holding something back from me. Something that my friend Evelyn had even gotten to experience—not that I was jealous.
Okay, I was. Just a little. But she was neck deep with Austin Fitzgerald now, and if rumors around the brewery were to be believed, with a guy named Ross Hoffman as well, somehow.
This Hoffman was an old friend of Austin’s from their brewing institute days. He was, apparently, German, and a serious hottie, in a Viking kind of a way. The three of them had spent some quality time together out in Denver, again if one were to believe the rumors swirling around my new workplace, the weekend that Fitzgerald Brewing had won Midsized Brewery of the Year.
I rolled onto my side, about to say something until I saw that Trent was sound asleep, his arms up over his head, his gorgeous, sculpted chest covered in a light sheen of sweat. I ran my fingertips along his scalp, allowing myself a few minutes to enjoy simply looking at him. His prominent cheekbones, his aquiline nose, his full, oh-so kissable lips.
This man…my mind refused to wrap its woozy self around what we’d done. How he’d made me feel. Cherished, protected, loved and most of all safe. The small pains he’d inflicted on me, giving me time to adjust to each of the new experiences had proven to me that he wasn’t interested in demeaning me. He was interested in my pleasure, pure and simple. And he knew how to bestow it—even if it were in ways I’d never imagined would be pleasurable.
I lay my head on his chest, near his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat—steady and strong. That moment when he’d stared at me with pure anguish in his eyes and admitted that he didn’t understand what was happening to him will be something I never forget. The fun times we’d shared—mostly having sex but also watching movies, sports, going on long walks before more sex—had been intense. But once I realized that he’d freed me from the scared little girl I’d been for so long, shown me how I deserved to live as a sexually healthy woman, I knew I was way over my head in love with him.
And now, I’d seen all sides of him. He’d shown me what he liked—what he really liked—when it came to sex and I was all in. I rolled to my other side and sat up slowly, gingerly. My nipples hurt like fire and my ass was sore but I’d never felt more sated or happy. Nothing would ruin this. I had a job I loved working with my best friend and her man—both her men, I guessed—and now this? It seemed a bit decadent, like I was being handed too much at once.
But that was my grandmother’s old superstitions talking. She’d spent a lot of time with me as I’d recovered from the attack at home. She was the one who’d demanded that my mother take me to a doctor to make sure I was neither pregnant nor the recipient of any nasty diseases. I wished wholeheartedly that she were alive now, so I could tell her about my man, my new life. I glanced over my shoulder, needing to see him again, to ensure that I was not dreaming.
His eyes were open. His smile wide as he regarded me. He held out his hand. “I didn’t hurt you did I, querida?”
“Nothing I didn’t ask for, guapo.” I got up and limped to the bathroom. “I need a shower. I don’t suppose they have food in this weird place? I am starving.”
There were two showers, both with a million heads at all angles. Hot steam filled the room as the water ran. I stepped into its warm embrace, only emerging after my fingers got pruney, vaguely aware that Trent had spent a few minutes cleaning up in the other one. Wrapping myself in a huge, soft towel, I sniffed the air with a smile.
“You are too good to me,” I said, walking out to find him with a towel around his waist, uncovering a plate. “How did you know that’s what I was craving?” He motioned for me to climb into his lap. I needed no more encouragement.
He cut the filet mignon and fed me bites in between taking his own. The rich, tender protein slid down my throat and filled me with a different kind of warmth. The potato had the perfect amount of butter and salt. The green beans were crisp, yet warm and flavorful. I sighed and snuggled into him, not even having a twinge of doubt about what all this meant.
He flopped back with a sigh of satisfaction after we’d each drunk a bottle of water. “No wine?”
“Not here. It’s against the rules.”
“You’ll have to fill me in a little more. Maybe…show me some more…sights?”
He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “Ah, a little voyeur as well as an adventurer, are we, mi amor?”
“Well…” I finger walked around his firm, lightly furred chest. “It was muy caliente, si?”
“Si, bella. Si.”
I drifted, and so did he, our bellies as full as our hearts. I woke with a jerk. I was even more sore this time, as I rose and limped to the door where I thought I’d heard something like a doorbell. Without a thought to what I might find, I opened the door. A man stood there—a very tall, very good-looking man with deep black hair and blue eyes. He was dressed in a tux. He held out a flat, square box. “Mr. Hettinger ordered this delivered.” He handed the box to me, then walked away.
I stood, staring down at it, curious and still sleepy. Trent was stretching, and the towel had slipped, revealing a part of him that I never thought I could become addicted to—but I was. I smiled and cocked my hip, holding the box like a drinks tray. “Something came for you. A muy guapo young man delivered it just now.”
His eyes narrowed. “Muy guapo, eh?” He grabbed my wrist and dragged me down to large leather chair, his lips locked on mine as he maneuvered us so I was straddling his lap. He broke the kiss, leaving me breathless. “I don’t like it when you use that word on anyone but me, bella.” He poked the tip of my nose. “Give me the box.”
I held up over my head. “Well, he was,” I said, smiling as I felt his dick harden beneath me. He growled and grabbed for it. I tossed it between my hands, loving the play of his muscles as he moved and the direct pressure his erection now put against my very sore but still eager pussy.
With an evil grin, he tugged my towel down and sucked one of my nipples, hard, making me squeal and drop the box on his head. He grabbed it, pushed me up then turned me so I was plunked down in the seat he’d just vacated. I snagged my towel, re-wrapping myself, and blew my hair off my face. He’d moved the plate and water bottles aside, and was sitting across from me, looking way too serious.
“What?” I said, irritated, but trying to stay neutral. “What is it?”
By way of answer, he lifted the lid off the box, revealing a thick, silver, ropey necklace, with a heart-shaped locket. It was nestled in a deep burgundy bed of velvet. He held it out to me, his gaze lowered. “In exchange for your trust, I ask that you wear this. To show the world what we are to each other.”
I lifted the chain. It was heavy and didn’t seem to have a clasp, like it was an endless loop of a precious metal. It slid through my fingers as I studied the odd locket. There was a single, very large diamond set in it. I hadn’t seen that as the locket had been turned over inside the box. It caught the light from the bathroom, blinding me.
My hands shook as I laid it back in its velvet nest. “Is this…a thing?�
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He smiled and took it, motioning for me to join him. I turned and sat between his legs on the ottoman, lifting my hair and feeling him settle the weight of if around my neck. It was tight, almost like a choker. He kissed the nape of my neck, then my shoulder. His hands were warm and comforting on my bare arms. “Yes, mi amor. This is a thing called a collar. But don’t get your feminista hackles up. It’s not like that. And we can call it whatever you want. As long as you understand what it means.”
I moved so I was sitting in the chair again, facing him. I took his hands and kissed his palms, then placed them on my chest, over my beating heart. “Ah guapo. Estoy desesperadamente enamorado de ti.” I felt the tears slip from my eyes. “I will wear this, if it means something to you.” I touched the locket. It lay almost exactly in the cleft between my collarbones. It was heavy around my neck. But I didn’t care.
“It does, bella. It means a lot.” His eyes were shining. “But now, I say we head home.”
“Home?” I shot him a look. I had yet to stay at his place more than one night. I’d only been there on weekends, when Taylor was at her mother’s.
He grinned and opened a case I hadn’t noticed near the bathroom. He pulled out jeans and a T-shirt for him, and one of my favorite, lightweight summer dresses and sandals for me. I rolled my eyes. “And here I thought we had to do the walk of shame out of here in our dress-up clothes.” He tossed me the dress. “Undies?” I held out my hand.
“No need,” he said, waggling his eyebrows as he stuck his long legs in the jeans.
I pulled the dress over my head, letting it flow down my body, getting that too-perfect sensation again. Like this was all way too much wonderful for one silly Latina to enjoy. He dropped to the ottoman again and helped me do up my sandals, kissing my ankles, then my knees, then my thighs. I spread my fingers on his scalp, relishing the sensation of his bare skin against my palms. But he stuck his head out from under the dress before getting to the top of my legs, leaving me a little pouty.
“Yes, home. To my place. The spawn child is on a weekend-long sleepover, or so she claims. I checked with the other girl’s mom and it’s legit.”
I watched him pull the shirt down over his bare chest, already relishing the anticipation of a night spent in his arms, in his loft downtown instead of my tiny studio, listening to the marital discord, screaming babies and barking dogs through the paper-thin walls. I touched the locket again, pondering the next steps. I got up and found my dress, stockings, bra and garter belt from the various locations in the room where I’d left them. As I was picking up Trent’s trousers and trying to locate his shirt and tie, he put a hand on my arm.
“We don’t have to do that.”
“What are you talking about? These are expensive clothes.”
“I know. But part of the deal here is the clean-up. These things will get returned to me, dry cleaned and ready to reuse.”
“But…” He took the trousers out of my hand and dropped them on the bed, then kissed my forehead gently.
“No buts, my love. Let’s go. My bed awaits your presence.”
I stood, staring at him. He crossed his arms. “What?”
“This…” I waved my arms around. “This is just…too much.”
“Too much what? Too much awesome? Too much great?”
“Too much, I don’t know, pure fantasy. It’s ridiculous. There are people starving to death in the streets.”
He grinned, then chuckled, then pulled me into his arms. “I love you,” he said.
“What does that have to do with this present line of conversation?” But I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath of him.
“Everything.” He pulled me back, gripping my arms. “You have a lot to learn about me, bella. I’m not a spoiled rich asshole. I earned every penny I have. But when I spend it, I expect to get full use of it.”
“I didn’t say…” He put his finger to my lips.
“Humor me. Let me get the full value of the money I spent for our night here, okay?”
I nodded, grabbed his wrist and sucked his fingertip into my mouth.
He smiled. I bit down, hard. He winced, and yanked me closer, keeping his finger where it was. “Better watch yourself, angelita. I’m not done with you tonight.” He pulled his finger out and gave my ass a hard smack.
I squealed and jumped away from him, already tingly with anticipation, rubbing my smarting backside. He put on his watch and grabbed his wallet and keys then held out his arm. “Your wish,” he said, his smile lighting me up from the inside out as I tucked my hand into his elbow. “My command,” he whispered, sending a jolt down my spine.
We walked down the hallway. All the rooms we’d seen earlier had velvet curtains drawn over them. The large ballroom was chilly, but when our feet touched the dance floor, Trent pulled me around and twirled me under his arm again and again, making me dizzy. When I fell against him, he laid one of his toe-curling kisses on me, then leaned away, as if studying my response.
“Are you trying to blow my mind with this over-the-top fairy tale mamadas?”
“Did you just call the date night I arranged bullshit?” He slapped a hand over his heart.
“Si, guapo. I did.”
He sighed. “I guess I’m going to just have to try harder.”
I hip bumped him as we made our way across the large room toward the foyer and the front door. “Guess so.”
He harrumphed. I giggled. He gave me another hard ass smack on my way out the front door. His Jeep was waiting, already running in the circular drive. I sighed. “Seriously?”
“Si, my love.” He opened the passenger’s side door and bowed low. I flicked his earlobe then climbed in. “Every pain from you is worth it. So far, anyway.”
I stuck out my tongue as I fastened my seatbelt. But I had never felt so happy in my life. I tried not to feel too lucky as we drove the forty minutes back to Grand Rapids. I threaded my fingers through the ones he had on my leg. He glanced at me at one point. “You all right?”
“Never better,” I claimed, kissing his knuckles and focusing forward, willing myself not to cry.
When we were on the elevator up from the parking garage, he pressed me up against the cold metal wall and kissed me so hard I saw stars. He broke slowly from my lips when the doors opened into the hallway outside his loft. His hands cradled my face. His body was warm against mine. Our lips were mere inches apart.
“What are you thinking about right now, bella?” He traced my lips with his thumb. “Talk to me.”
“I’m thinking that I am the luckiest woman in the world.”
“Liar,” he said with a smile. “You’d never think anything so clichéd and I know it.”
I shrugged, but I honestly never wanted him to move, to never let go of me, to never stop kissing me. “You are so unbelievably beautiful.”
“Gracias. You’re not too bad yourself, guapo.”
“I want us to be together, Melody.”
“We are, silly man.” I put my fingers on the locket. But my heart was doing that weird flippity-flop thing again. Like it had done at our first date, when I’d made us lunch.
He propped his hands propped on either side of my face, but looked away from me, down at our feet. “Listen,” I said, tilting his chin up like he’d done with me, many times before. “I’m going to warn you now—I’m not always a ball of fun. I can be a little, um, bossy. Sometimes I’m moody. I have a bit of a short fuse. It’s the Mexican in me.”
He grinned and pecked the tip of my nose. “Oh, I think you’ll find us pretty well matched in the temper department. As for you being bossy, well…we can balance that out a little bit, I think. If you’re game to let me try.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. The elevator door had given up on us and had shut again. “I’m game to let you try anything.”
“All righty. That’s more like it.” He pressed the button and doors slid open once more. I’d only been in the space for a few seconds before he scooped me up
and tossed me over his shoulder. “Trent is feeling very cave man. Cave man want to fuck.” He smacked my ass all the way back to his bedroom.
I yelped and bounced when he tossed me onto his bed—a giant expanse of green and blue covered softness. I threw pillows at him as he dodged and weaved. When he leapt on me, pinning my wrists over my head, grinding his crotch against me, I growled at him. “Feisty,” he said, shoving his other hand up my dress. “I like it. Now…let’s find something you like, shall we?”
He pressed fingers inside me, keeping his thumb on my clit. I shoved my hips up, not even believing that I could want more, but wanting it nonetheless. He lowered his lips to mine, owning me, possessing me even while giving me what I wanted. I came hard, moaning into his mouth. I flopped back, gasping, my eyes closed as my body pulsed. “How do you do that?” I asked, when he put the fingers he’d had inside me to his lips.
“I’m a bit of a miracle worker. You may call me the orgasm whisperer if you like.”
“Bragger.”
He let go of my wrists and I took the opportunity to shove him over onto his back. “Now, let’s see what I might have in my magician’s hat for you.” I unzipped him and tugged his jeans down and off. His cock was ramrod hard, jutting upward, a pearl of cum glistening at the tip. I licked my lips and crouched between his knees. “Lay back, whisperer. Let me work.”
I sucked the fluid from his head, making him groan low and loud. I wrapped my fingers around the base, and slid my mouth down his length. He tugged at my hair as I took him deep, then released him, then swallowed him as much as I could. Even as I felt his balls tighten in my palm and his thrusts took on an urgency that I recognized, he pulled me up and off him, tossed me onto the bed and crawled up between my legs. “Bella, bella, mi amor,” he crooned as he angled his hips and penetrated me slowly, deliciously, filling me and making us both groan. I arched my back, as he moved faster. I reached back and grabbed the wooden headboard, tilting my hips so I could feel him all way inside me.
