I Spy a Naughty Game sa-2

by Jo Davis

  Blaze didn’t waste a second following that particular directive, grabbing his woman’s hand and pulling her out the door. As they walked away he saw her glance over her shoulder toward Michael’s office, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you see how he kept rubbing his left arm and his jaw? I don’t think he’s feeling well.”

  “I noticed. If you were in his shoes, would you be feeling great? Talk about pressure.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. The horrible stress he’s under will ruin his health if he’s not careful.”

  “Ain’t that the truth. All of this, on top of dealing with Maggie’s death alone for the past few weeks. Maybe I’ll call McKay and put a bug in his ear, have him come by and pester the stubborn asshole to get a checkup.”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea,” she said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re a genius.”

  He puffed up a little at the praise. Couldn’t help it. “I have my moments.”

  “So what’s next, O Wise One?”

  “Brat.” He nudged her with his elbow, and she giggled. “You got Marty lined up to take your surveillance classes while we’re gone?”

  “He’s all set.”

  “Okay, good. Let’s stop by your room and pack the stuff you think we’ll need for our gig. Then we’ll go home and play unwrap the sub. And I’m not talkin’ sandwich.”

  “And just think — we get to play on company time!”

  “Lucky us.” He liked this easygoing, flirtatious side of her. He could get used to it, real fast.

  In her room, he helped gather an assortment of clothing while she picked a few wigs and plenty of makeup. Everything went into three plastic totes, lids snapped on and ready to go. He carried two of them, Emma the last one, and they were on their way.

  “You’ve got a ton of supplies here.”

  “Never know what kind of disguise we’ll need. It’s best to have an assortment of identities that can blend into almost any situation.”

  He knew this, but it was cool to see her confident, in her element. It was a far cry from the vulnerable lady who trembled under his touch, and he loved both sides of her.

  “What sort of disguise do you envision for our role as master and sub when we infiltrate Dietz’s group of backers?”

  She eyed him in speculation. “I’ve been thinking of enhancement rather than full-out change. Like I mentioned before, I’m going to lighten your hair, give it some autumnal tints. Too bad I’ll have to disguise those amazing golden eyes with blue contacts, though. For me, colored contacts, as well, and hair extensions woven in so it appears real and won’t come off if somebody yanks my head.”

  “Simple is best, I suppose. Just don’t cut my hair.”

  “You’ve mentioned that before. I love it long, but what’s the big deal?” she asked, curious.

  “Nothing. I like it shoulder length, that’s all.” A painful memory shoved to the fore, and he beat it down again.

  “From your expression, I think there’s more.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe another time, okay?”

  Thankfully, she dropped the subject, and the trip back to his house progressed with easy conversation. As well as a heightened awareness that they’d soon begin her training in earnest. It meant so much to him that she wasn’t just doing this for the job anymore. She wanted to learn, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

  She was his.

  After stashing the boxes in his garage, they went inside, and he paused in the kitchen, pulling her into his arms and stealing a kiss. A long, slow one that tightened all the right places. “You taste good. At the risk of sounding horribly cliché, I wanna lick you like a piece of stick candy.”

  A hand slid around and squeezed his ass. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  “Mmm, tempting. Business first, however.” Darn it.

  “Party pooper.”

  “Will a beer or a glass of wine make it all better?”

  “Not all better, but it’s a start. Wine, please — a good red if you have some.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  Kissing her cheek, he let go and checked the countertop wine rack, pulling out a bottle. “A nice cabernet?” He held up the bottle for her inspection.

  “Wonderful. You know just what I need.”

  “Exactly what I’m counting on, sweet thing,” he said, giving her a grin, which she returned. They both knew he wasn’t referring to wine. He opened the bottle, poured a glass for her, and fetched a beer from the fridge for himself. “Come sit down and let’s relax while we can.”

  God knows they wouldn’t get much downtime in the next few days or weeks. His lifestyle was intense under normal circumstances. Add an undercover op to the mix and you had a recipe for exhaustion, stress, and sensory overload.

  Drawing her down onto the sofa next to him, he tucked her into his side, and they sipped their drinks companionably for a few minutes, just enjoying the closeness. He wondered how to best broach the subject most on their minds, but Emma dove in first.

  “Have you ever been in a long-term relationship before?” she asked curiously, swirling her wine in the glass.

  Some of the tension left him. This was an easy one. “Never have, not that I haven’t wanted one. Who really wants to be alone forever, right? But it’s tough to find the special person to whom you can honestly say, ‘Good Lord, where have you been, you awesome goddess? Stay with me and rock my world, and we’ll make little goddesses someday.’”

  She giggled. “You’re so full of crap. I’ll bet you’ve had a posse of women who’ve tried to bag you.”

  “You’d be wrong. They always find a fatal flaw and run screaming.”

  “I’m sorry I did that to you,” she said, sobering. “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

  “Never believe you are, baby. You’re here and they aren’t.”

  “I hurt you.” Her hand stroked his thigh, giving him shivers.

  “We both did a bang-up job on each other on that score, so let’s call it even.”

  She was silent for a few moments, and he waited, letting her take all the time she needed to form her questions. The last thing he wanted was to start spouting rules right away and scare or alienate her.

  “So, how heavy are you into the whips and chains thing? Where do you draw the line?” she asked cautiously. “The truth — not some sugarcoated version you think I want to hear.”

  “Of course not.”This was a good start. “My personal taboos are the extreme fetishes — I don’t engage in blood or knife play, golden showers, scat, or bestiality. I’m sure you already knew I wouldn’t participate in any of those scenes, but I like to be perfectly clear. No fake death scenes, either, like asphyxiation. None of those are sexy, and some are downright dangerous.”

  Her jaw fell open. “People really do those things? I don’t tend to think of myself as overly naïve, but sheesh!”

  “Many Doms and subs are into the extreme stuff. It’s not urban legend. There are entire communities built around just about any flavor you want. Me, I was never into being frightened or humiliated.” God knows he’d gotten enough of both growing up, despite his uncle’s efforts to intervene.

  “But how did you avoid placing yourself in harm’s way? You told me you started out as a sub, so you didn’t have any say in what was done to you, right?” Her tone was horrified at the prospect.

  “That’s a common misconception.” Scooting around to face her, he placed a hand over hers in reassurance. “Everyone has to know their own boundaries, what they’re willing to explore in BDSM, or at least be willing to find out. From there, a sub is introduced to a master who’s believed to be compatible with those boundaries or interests. If they like each other, a contract is drawn up that stipulates exactly what will and will not happen between them. I never take on a sub without a contract in hand.”

  “But you started teaching me before I was kidnapped by Dietz.”

  “True, but you hadn’t
yet fully committed. I was giving you a taste of what being my sub would be like. The contract is the next step.”

  She nodded. “That makes sense. The contract… does it provide for one encounter at a time, or is it open-ended?”

  “Mine are open-ended. If I play with a sub again, we revisit the terms briefly to see if the sub’s needs have changed.”

  Her expression began to brighten as her concerns gradually disappeared. “So it’s not just a wild free-for-all, masters grabbing the poor subs randomly and having their way with them?”

  He laughed at the image. “That’s probably what most people think, isn’t it? No, the reality is much more civilized. The down and dirty comes later, in a safe, controlled environment designed to promote everyone’s mutual pleasure.”

  “Just because both parties sign a contract doesn’t mean a master won’t get carried away, though,” she speculated.

  “I assure you, misconduct on a master’s part is practically unheard of. I’m not saying it’s never occurred, but this is a small community that takes pride in playing safe. Masters come in very distinguishable personality types and kinks, and it’s our responsibility to know our own limits as well as the limits of our subs. We read facial expressions and body language. We use safe words and we know the difference between pushing subs past what they believe they can take and when they’re truly afraid and need to stop a scene.”

  “What type of personality are you as a master? I’m not sure I get that.”

  “There are several indentified types of masters. I’m what’s called a responsive master. I care about my subs and prefer to have a real connection with them. I like to nurture them, bring them to an emotional and sexual catharsis, and comfort them when we’re done with a scene. I use a firm hand, mixing a bit of pain with the pleasure, but without cruelty. Does this sound acceptable?”

  The sudden pucker of her nipples against her blouse, not to mention the dilating of her pupils and quickening of breath, gave him the answer he wanted. It was still gratifying, though, to hear the words.

  “It sounds exciting, and much different from the stereotype I was carrying in my head.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m still nervous, but a normal kind. I wish I’d sat down and had this talk with you before. If I had—”

  “Uh-uh.” He silenced her with a brush of his lips on hers. “We’re talking now — that’s all that really matters. What’s left is to decide how we play. What turns you on, baby? What do you want from this?”

  She chewed her lip, considering. “I’m tired of living in my rigid, black-and-white world. I want you to show me colors I’ve never seen before. I want to feel beautiful and desired. And I want to trust a lover completely for the first time in my life.”

  “I can do all those things for you, sweetheart,” he said softly, skimming one cheek with his fingers. “The trust has to come from you, but I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t. It’s me letting you down that I’m worried about. I’m not sure what I want sexually or how far I can go. I’m a little nervous, and that in itself is uncharted territory for me.”

  That was quite an admission, coming from the most self-assured woman he knew. “It’s not a problem — part of my job is to help you discover yourself.” He set his beer on the coffee table. “Why don’t I grab a copy of my standard contract and let you read it? Then we can discuss any changes you’d like to make, come to an agreement, and sign if you’re ready.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Nodding, he rose to go fetch the document, barely able to contain his excitement — though somehow he managed.

  It wouldn’t do for his new sub to see her big, tough Dom reduced to a puddle of mush.

  Emma’s hands shook as she read the contract, the implications of which were both overwhelming and terribly arousing.

  From the moment she entered a scene with Blaze, she’d be under his control in every sense of the word. Sure, concessions were made for her safety, as he’d said, but the reality was that she belonged to him. He was her master and as such would enforce a strict code of conduct in public, with consequences for breaking them.

  “Flogging?” she croaked, attention riveted to the “punishment” section of the document. “Time and place to be determined by the master?”

  “Yes. Though we can amend it to read that all punishments for breaking a rule will be rendered in private.”

  “I’d prefer that, yes.” She frowned. “Wait a sec — I thought you said I could use a safe word!”

  “Except during punishment,” he said gently. “Consequences are doled out for a reason and are not fun for the sub.”

  “But that’s not fair!”

  His reply was patient. “It’s not fair to be punished when you break a rule you agreed in writing not to violate? Present a good argument, and I’ll strike the whole section.”

  She swallowed hard, mind scrambling. After a few moments of struggling to come up with a valid reason, her protest deflated. “I can’t, and you know it.”

  “I’d never truly hurt you, Emma. That’s part of the trust you want to develop with me.”

  “I know. This is all going to take quite a bit of adjustment for me.”

  “Anything worthwhile isn’t all roses and sunshine.”

  She glanced up, and an encouraging smile took the harshness from his words. “True.” Straightening, she laid the papers on the coffee table, took the pen, and heaved a deep breath. “Well, this all seems to be pretty straightforward. Don’t make me sorry.”

  “Don’t make me sorry, sir.”

  “Don’t push it, buddy. I haven’t signed yet, and even if I had, we’re not in a scene.”

  “You’re a fast learner. Excellent.” His impish grin kick-started her pulse.

  “Humph.” She shot him a disdainful look simply to remind him she was no pushover, which only made him laugh. Annoying, sexy man.

  “Speaking of the safe word, you need to choose one. Something you wouldn’t be likely to say in ordinary circumstances that I couldn’t possibly mistake for anything but ‘stop the scene.’”

  She thought a moment. “How about… peppermint?”

  “That’ll work. Fill it in the blank on page one, amend the punishment to be rendered in private, then sign if you agree to all the terms.”

  Once the deed was done, she presented the papers with a flourish. He took them, a glint of heat in his golden eyes.

  “I’ll put these away and then give you a tour of the playroom.”

  “Okay.”

  Recalling her last foray to the basement, and how badly his revelation had gone over, she couldn’t help but feel a little sad. But they were moving on now. Right?

  Blaze returned and took her hand, leading her down the stairs and flipping on a dim light as he went. The cavernous space was just as she remembered it — well, what little she’d seen before they’d had it out and she’d fled like a rabbit being chased by a pack of hungry hounds.

  Leather harnesses, whips, clamps, handcuffs, and a wide assortment of glittery, eye-popping gear were neatly arranged on black-painted walls for maximum effect. Designed, she suspected, to immediately put a sub into the proper headspace.

  Nothing could possibly say “this is my domain and I’m the master here” more than this room.

  “Come here.”

  Her gaze snapped to his at the tone she’d never heard him use before, meeting an expression on his handsome face she’d never seen, and the change was mesmerizing. She was about to be treated to this man in all his powerful Dom glory, and suddenly her entire body was spring-loaded. A live wire ready to be tripped and sizzled.

  With a start, she realized she’d hesitated, and she quickly obeyed, walking over to stand in front of him. The musky, manly aroma of him teased her senses, and the sight of him in his tight faded jeans and blue T-shirt, dark hair brushing his broad shoulders, made her pussy tingle.

  “Undress,” he said.

  “Completely?”

&nb
sp; A raised brow was her only answer. Okay, stupid question.

  She stripped and stood before him, refusing to look away, though it wasn’t easy. They’d been lovers before, but this was a level of sensuality she’d never experienced.

  For the very first time, she understood that the word naked meant far more than simply wearing no clothing.

  Reaching out, he touched her cheek and sent her a half smile, telegraphing warmth and reassurance. “I’m going to start you out with something easy,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “Raise your arms over your head and cross your wrists. Reach as high as you can.”

  Face flushed, she did as she was told, wondering what was so easy about feeling exposed and vulnerable. Stretching, she was surprised to touch something dangling above her head. Her heart galloped as he reached to her wrists and she realized what he planned to do. A protest formed on her lips but didn’t find a voice.

  Working swiftly, he bound her wrists with what felt like strips of leather. As he stepped aside to survey his handiwork, she tilted her head back to do the same and gasped at the sight, not to mention the idea of the picture she must make in his eyes.

  The leather was secured around her crossed wrists and tied to a silver horizontal bar suspended from the ceiling by chains. The setup wasn’t complicated yet was no less impressive, filling her with fear and anticipation.

  He moved away for a few seconds, then returned to kneel by her feet. “Spread your legs, feet a bit wider than your shoulders. Easy, baby.”

  A metal circle clamped around each ankle, and her attempt to sound demanding came out a pathetic squeak. “What are you doing?”

  “This is called a spreader bar, and its job is to restrict your movement. It won’t hurt you. Nothing I do will cause you anything but the good kind of pain. Deep breaths and relax. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  “Wait! Don’t leave me here,” she begged, hating that she sounded like such a wuss.

  “I’m not really leaving you, so stay calm. Five minutes, no more.”

  She could do nothing but listen to his footsteps ascend the stairs and disappear. Had he done this on purpose as part of the trust building? The man never did anything by chance, so she figured he had. Leaving her trussed like a Christmas goose was all part of his grand plan, and the only thing missing was the stuffing.