Slater ignored his brother’s hacking. “Bianca. I’m not good at this kind of thing. Finding the right words, I mean … but I want you in my life.”
“Really?”
“Really. I even want to drink that horrible coffee you make in the morning.” I laughed. I did make horrible coffee. “I want to hear what you have to say, even if some of your ideas are a bit wacky. And it doesn’t even matter that you like the Yankees instead of our hometown White Sox. Although why that is, I’ll never understand.” Slater rubbed his thumb over the top of my hand. “I want to see you wearing one of my shirts after we make love. I want to paint every inch of your body with kisses and draw every line of your face inside my mind while I watch you sleep. I guess, what I’m saying is, I want you. No one else.”
“You guess you want me?”
Slater smirked. “I’m in love with you, Bianca Kirkland.”
I stood there. Speechless. Slater Nolan, the man who had secretly been starring in my fantasies since I was sixteen, loved me.
“I’m not going to kick you to the curb. And I never had any intention to. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
I smiled.
He stared at me. “Don’t you have an opinion on the subject of us?”
I nodded.
“Are you going to tell me?”
I nodded again.
“Go ahead, Bunny,” Jayce encouraged.
I blinked.
“Well?” Slater asked.
“I think I love you too,” I said with a quiver in my voice.
“You think, or you do?”
I reached out with my free hand and swiped my fingers through the wavy silk strands of his hair. “I do.”
“Oh, hell no. You’re not getting off the hook that easy. Pull those cards out of the deck and put them on the table.”
“Slater Nolan.”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“My work here is done,” Jayce mused, hands shooting up into the air as if he just scored a touchdown.
Slater stood to his full height. I looked up at him from under my lashes. Outlined the buttons on his blue shirt with my fingertips. Slater tugged something shiny from his front pocket. He held it up. It was a thin silver rope chain. He demonstrated what happened when he locked the two sides together. The middle charm formed a stylized S.
“My special order from the jeweler did come in today,” he said.
I reached out and stroked the charm with my index finger. “The S stands for—”
“Slater’s.” His eyes sparkled as he stared at me. “Will you accept my collar?”
I picked my hair up from my shoulders and bowed my head. He placed the chain around my neck then lifted my chin with the tips of his fingers, forcing me to look at him. Once our eyes met, Slater locked the center charm together. The S snuggled into the concave of my throat, reminding me how many times his mouth, his tongue, and his teeth had played havoc there.
When I released my hair, it tumbled around my face. Slater brushed it back from my cheek with his knuckles.
“You belong to me now, my sweet,” he said, assuredly.
“Always.”
Slater’s lips rested on my forehead. I closed my eyes. He drew me into his arms, picked me up, and kissed me until my toes curled.
The End
www.londonsaintjames.com
AMAZING MAISIE
Raven McAllan
Copyright© 2013
Chapter One
"It fucking hurts. Red, you bastard." The punch to his stomach would have been enough to bring tears to any man's eyes. Luckily, it seemed Rob had seen it coming and tensed his muscles.
Maisie winced and sucked her knuckles. "I was right, you are a bastard. Who on earth thinks this is a turn-on? Screwy. Give me Ink and a book. Yeah, I'll read it get wet, hot and horny, but have a taste? I don't think so."
Rob McRae rolled his eyes. Even dressed in nothing but unsnapped low-slung denims, he was so hot Maisie thought if she touched him she'd be scorched. He stood tall, and loomed over her. Not menacing exactly, but commanding, and all-powerful. It didn't scare her. She could smell her own excitement mixed with his male musky scent. Her pussy went into overdrive and gathered her juices, sending pulses of excitement through her, and every nerve ending tingled. She rubbed one hand with the other and forced herself not to touch her clit and grab what release she could before he either stopped her or helped her. Her nipples were another story. Even the thought of touching them hurt. Or did it…?
"Maisie, give over with the histrionics. I haven't even attached the bloody thing yet. And I'm warning you now. That's your lot. You either do as you know fine well you really want to, and sub, or we stop now. You called ‘red’ and I'll honor that. But think on, what do you want?"
"I want you, I do. I wan… Argh…"
Maisie Morrison hit the floor with a bump, her bedding tangled around her, her pussy wet and her nipples throbbing as if the man of her dreams had attached the clamps and left them there.
How many nights now had she woken up like this? Wet and so tied up in her sheets they were better than any handcuffs or shackles. Having the dream and never getting past the time where she stopped him. What she couldn't understand was why she stopped him in her dream. The one time they had played, she hadn't safe worded. Instead she'd enjoyed every last tingle, shiver, pain, and climax.
So why was she dreaming like this? She'd waited so long, and lusted so hard for him, so why now with the negative, scared nighttime worries? Maisie unwound the sheet, opened her bedside table and then shut it again. No Bill the Bullet until she'd sorted her dreams out and spoken to Rob.
If he'll let me.
Now why did she think that? Had he ever ignored her? Once she'd come down from her high, he'd cuddled her and then drawn her a bath. The care evident in the way he'd soaped her body, lifted her out and dried her had made Maisie feel cherished. Then he'd dropped his bombshell. He'd wrapped the towel tight round her still-damp body and sat her on his lap with his arms around her. Maisie had rested her head on his chest, knowing she didn't want to move.
Rob lifted her chin so she stared him in the eyes. The tiny golden flecks that scattered across his irises seemed more prominent and his gaze was clear and intent.
"This was only a taste of what I am, pet. I'm a Dom, and I want you as my sub." Her body jerked as a frisson of excitement bombarded her and he chuckled. "Now, before you think whips and chains, that's not me. But it is more than me demanding you bend over and let me spank you. Much more. I love Shibari and wax play, and have a great selection of floggers that would be perfect to decorate your ass. In context, I will demand obedience and punish you, if you won’t do as I command. If we play, I'm the one who…" He hesitated. "The one who calls the shots, even though in effect, you as my sub would be in charge.”
He must have seen her puzzlement. "You can safe word out at any time and I'm honor bound to stop. However, you need to understand and be very, very sure, Maisie. This is me … this is my life, and I won't compromise. I can't compromise. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. Think carefully while I'm away. I want you. I know you're submissive, every action, every word shows me that, but will you own up to it, admit it and live it with me?" Rob had been silent for a second, and hugged her tightly. "Can you accept that?"
The serious look on his face made Maisie bite back her initial thoughts of 'well duh'. All of a sudden, she realized there would be more to his needs than a quick spanking and a few drops of wax on her boobs. She tried to formulate how she felt, and it wasn't easy. So how much harder must it be for him to explain his needs?
"I don't know." Maisie touched his wrist, needing the contact. His arm was roughened and warm under her fingers, and she felt his pulse hitch and then speed up. It helped to realize he was no less affected than she was. "I'll need to understand everything, won't I? Let's face it, Rob, I'm not into that nicey-nicey, tie your shoelaces for you and wipe your nose crap. I could no more do that than f
ly, and I get vertigo if I stand on a stepladder. If you tried to shove me in one of those harnesses it'd be a toss-up if I fisted up, brought my knees up, or threw up. None of which would do your Dom-cred or whatever you call it much good. And I'm not much of one for following orders. I like to be in charge."
The long considering look in his eyes gave her goose bumps. Maisie wasn't sure if they were sensual, shivery goose pimples or scared ones.
"I didn't see much of that earlier." Rob smiled. It sent her pussy into spasms and she was sure if she’d worn a thong it would be almost wring-out wet by now. "Maisie, I want a sub in a scene, not a slave in my life. Only when we chose to would I want my pretty little sub. Only then. Apart from that, hell, I know you couldn't kowtow any more than I could say I'll eat gluten." Rob was coeliac. "I have enough people to watch out and direct in my everyday life." He ran his hands through his hair. "Shit, I'm knackered and that came out wrong. What I mean is, I love your strength and determination. The way you manage your life. But I also love the way you look at me when I demand your obedience in the bedroom, for the want of a better word. How your pupils dilate and your eyes go cloudy when I take charge. Your skin flushes the color I want to make your ass, and you make the most beautiful tiny mewls and sighs as I take you to the edge and demand you stay there until I say come."
She'd gasped, but couldn't deny his words. Rob had demanded, commanded, and received her obedience, and she loved it.
But do I want it like that every time? Am I ready to do as he tells me every time? Now she knew why he'd told her to think about it.
Then he'd dropped the bombshell. "I'll be away for three months, so you'll have time to think. Any questions, you can email me. I'll answer as soon as I can."
Maisie knew whatever he did wasn't talked about, so she didn't ask.
"Good girl."
Chapter Two
"So, have you heard from your brother?" Maisie kept her voice casual, as she checked no helpful—or mischievous—person had filed 'Shibari for Beginners' in the crafts and hobbies section, under knots and knotting, instead of the lifestyle choice, erotica and BDSM section.
"Rob?" Rissa looked up from the coffee machine behind the tiny counter, and shook her head. "Nope, why? You know once he's away we hear hardly anything. I've moaned about it often enough." She skirted the cake stand and the coffee tables and walked across to Maisie, who flapped a feather duster around the bookcases.
"We really need to give Gloria a pressie. She's a great asset. These shelves are spotless."
"Stop changing the subject. Why all of a sudden do you want to know about Rob? Hold on." Rissa stared at the shelves behind Maisie, and then looked her in the eyes. "You have, haven't you?"
"What?' Maisie glanced around their bookshop and coffee bar with satisfaction and ignored Rissa's question, and face. "God, I so love this place. We're so bloody lucky."
"Yes we are, and stop changing the subject." Rissa took her chin and made Maisie look at her. "Have you and my brother finally got it on?"
"What a disgusting expression." Maisie played for time. "I thought your command of the English language was way better than that. You know, first-class degree and all." She should have known Rissa wouldn't buy it.
"Okay, had it off, screwed, fucked and played?" Rissa waggled her finger. "'Fess up. This is me––remember? We don't have secrets. Well, I don't want to know how big his c––"
"Rissa McRae." Maisie was sure her face must be the color of the scarlet settee over by one wall. "For goodness sake."
"Exactly. Now tell me, are you two an item at last?"
"Hell, Rissa, I don't know how to answer that." Maisie nibbled her lip before she remembered Rob had told her not to. "I mean, we spent a few nights together, and then he left." And one was at the cinema, one eating out, one oh so vanilla but enjoyable, and one so explosive and amazing I can't think about it and not get hot, wet and horny.
Rissa looked at the clock and made two coffees. "Ten minutes before we need to open the doors to the coffee-wanting, book-loving hoards. Do you mean spent as in played, or spent as in passed the time?" She handed Maisie a coffee, and casually ran her hand under the neck of her blouse. The top two buttons loosened and Maisie stared at her.
"Thanks, and when did you get that?" The gold and silver choker with its tiny diamond padlock winked at her as the facets caught the light. "It's beautiful, and … oh my god, Derek collared you?" Maisie didn't partially own an alternative bookshop for nothing. She did a lot of reading on her self-inflicted solo nights.
Rissa blushed and giggled. "Last night. I was so chuffed. I wondered how you'd take it. I thought you'd be okay, but well, you never know. Then you've been digging about Rob, so…"
"Yeah, so?" Maisie shrugged. "We had a few casual dates, and one night playing, and it was amazing. Then he had to leave. He told me to think what I wanted whilst he was away. We've emailed a lot, but all that’s done is make me want to try stuff for real."
Rissa nodded. "Like?"
"Wax, and er, well. Oh damn, this is embarrassing. We had a long email chat about floggers last week. This is your brother I'm talking about." If she couldn't imagine Rob in her mind saying, 'Chin up, pet, and be proud of what you are', Maisie would have buried her head in her hands.
"Yeah, I know. And he's a Dom, so it's what he does. He's recognized as a master of wax play, and he wields a mean flogger. He taught Derek."
That brought Maisie up short. What was he doing bothering with her? Their emails had been interesting and instructive, but she was sure he must think her a right idiot with some of her questions.
Here I am, allegedly literate and articulate, of supposedly above-average intelligence, asking questions that anyone can get the answers to in a book. However, Maisie wanted Rob's answers, not anyone else's. So far he'd been very patient with her.
"Earth to Maisie, come back to me. We need to open the doors and let the punters in."
****
The next few hours were too busy to think. Their shop wasn't large, but it had a regular clientele both for books and beverages, and it wasn't until Maisie got home and kicked her shoes into a corner she was able to draw breath. She ran through what she wanted from her evening: A shower, a glass of wine, and her laptop. Along with the two packages Rissa had shoved into her hands as they left. One was obviously a book, because she could feel the spine and the edge of the pages through the brown padded bag. The other was bubble wrapped and covered and apart from the fact it was heavy, there was no clue to its identity.
"I was asked to give you these," Rissa said. "And it's not an eBook, but a genuine, hold in your hands and underline the passages, book." She'd handed a fluorescent marker, a bookmark and the two sealed packages to Maisie. "Or so I've been told. You're not to open them until you're sitting down at home, with wine."
Maisie put the smaller package into her bag and turned the larger one over in her hands. She gave a self-conscious smile at her actions. Obviously it was a book, but a brown padded bag didn't give much else away. So she'd nodded, put it in her bag, and waited until now.
Her heart was vying with the loud noise from the grandmother clock on the sideboard. What if it was a Dear Maisie, goodbye Maisie, Dear John type letter?
It's a book. You don't do a Dear John book. Just open the darned thing. However, her hands shook, and it took four goes to find the edge of the tape that sealed the bag.
When she finally drew the contents out, Maisie didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
A leather back jotter, tied together with a scarlet plaited rope and a gold fountain pen attached in a holder, slid out into Maisie's hand. She ran her fingers over the smooth as butter cover and bent her head to sniff the distinctive smell of expensive hide. With the utmost care, Maisie opened the cover. Inside, in elegant cursive script, were a few words.
'Pet, if you're serious, I need you to start writing down your thoughts for me as each day goes by. Reread our emails and write down your thoughts on them now. Highligh
t what means most to you. I'm thinking of you.'
The other package was a soft leather flogger. The note with that was even shorter:
To remind you.
Maisie gave a juddering sigh and ran the strands of the flogger over her cheek. The caress was as soft as a whisper, but she was under no illusions. With Rob's expertise he would be a master of sensations. Her clit sent messages, like 'yes please', and 'I wish it was now', as it reacted to the sensual pleasures in her mind. She let herself have one last daydream of how it might feel if Rob wielded her present on her skin, let her juices gather and felt her skin tingle. Then she put it and the book down on the coffee table, before she lifted her laptop up.
Rob was methodical and numbered his emails, and Maisie had pasted them into a document saved on her hard drive as 'Messages from my love'. She couldn't count the number of times she'd pulled it up and read the emails, and she almost knew them off by heart.
Okay, I can do this. Maisie took a deep breath, and opened the document before she smoothed the first page of her journal flat. In all honesty it would be a joy to write in such a beautiful book, and with a fountain pen that had a famous logo on the side of the barrel.
One. 'Good morning, Pet. Do I call you that? Are you thinking about it, Maisie? About letting me be your Sir. Submitting to me, and exploring what you want—what we want. I think there is so much about you that you don't know. Now's your chance to discover those facets … do you want to?
Shall I start to show you how we can explore and find out what Maisie my sub would like?
Think about it. Waiting for me, naked and on your knees with your head bowed. Is your breathing fast? Is that seductive little pulse in your neck bouncing up and down erratically? How's your cunt? Wet, throbbing and full of cream? Oh, and your nipples? I bet if you touched them they would be hard and tingling and ready for more.
If I'm right, you don't do anything about it, pet. Not if you want to explore our partnership. You do not make yourself come.
The Crimson Rope Page 4
