by Eden Bradley
“Eh? Maybe. Not smart enough to be a good example to anyone, but smart enough to get by.”
“Who were you not a good example to?” she asked, then wished she hadn’t pressed him. “Never mind. You can tell me some other time, if you want.”
He nodded, then bent and brushed a quick kiss across her cheek. “Hey, how’re you doing?”
“From play, you mean? My thighs are sore as hell, but I’m good. Perfect.”
He smiled down at her, making her heart thump in her chest. “Yeah, you are.”
She smiled back at him, their gazes meeting, and she swore she saw sincerity in his beautifully gleaming eyes, in his face. It made her feel shy, suddenly, and she glanced away, looking instead at the tattoos that had been revealed when he’d taken his shirt off. She touched one of the seven ravens on his right shoulder, done in black silhouette.
“Tell me about these?” she asked him.
“The crows? They’re a symbol. They represent the darkness we all carry, except that mine is often worn on the outside. No, don’t try to argue it. I see it as many things, in many incarnations. The foolishness and violence of my youth. My kink. The sadness we all have somewhere in our personal history, yes? Yeah. And seven is my lucky number, so it’s sort of the battle between good and evil—mine, anyway—with a little luck on my side, if that makes any sense.”
“It does.” She ran her fingers over the tattoo, and as was sometimes the case with heavy black work, she felt where his skin was raised a bit by the ink, which was a huge turn-on for her. “And your back piece? I only glimpsed it. May I see?”
“Sure.”
He rolled onto his other side, and she gasped first at the finely cut muscles in his broad shoulders and back, then at the beauty of the tattoo, the fineness of the detail and shading. It covered most of his upper back, a Tree of Life in the most exquisite Celtic style, flanked by a pair of wolves and encircled by intricate knot work.
“It’s beautiful. May I . . . ?” But she couldn’t wait for him to answer before reaching out to touch it—and smiling when she felt his small shiver. “This is really incredible, Duff.”
“I had it done by a master artist in Edinburgh a few years ago.”
“It must have taken hours.”
“Aye, sixteen, as close as I can count it. Three sessions. The final one, when he did the shading, was a bitch.”
“So you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” she teased.
He rolled back over to face her, wrapping her in one big arm and yanking her in close. “Oh, I can take it, mouthy girl. But as soon as you’re recovered, and we’ve had a moment to renegotiate, we’ll really see what you can take. And that’s three ticks on the ledger, by the way.”
“I figured.”
She couldn’t help but grin. He just made her feel so good. Some small part of her mind wanted to run screaming, but she was too comfortable with him. Comfortable, hot for him, needing to explore all he had to offer in terms of dominance.
“Duff?”
“Yeah?”
“I think there’s no doubt that my masochistic tendencies were—are—more than tendencies.”
He laughed. “You think?”
She nodded. “And I believe this needed to happen. That I needed to explore this part of me. I still don’t have to like it. I mean, I do, but I don’t.”
“Do you think maybe you’re flying a little higher than you thought, princess? Because you’re not entirely making sense.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, then, you tell me what you need to help you come back to earth.”
She wanted to ask him to simply stay with her and hold her all night. But she couldn’t get the words out. She felt far too vulnerable already—she wasn’t about to ask him for anything like that. It was too much like the things she’d said to Adrien. Marcel. Vincent. And fucking Jimmy. Things they’d used against her, ultimately—the words, her needs and desires.
He won’t do that.
Maybe he wouldn’t. But maybe he would.
The fear was back, like some ancient drumbeat in her belly. But she refused to give in to it. Not tonight. Not when he was holding her so tight for the moment, giving her exactly what she wanted, saying all the right things.
They’re all so damn smooth.
But maybe, just maybe, this man was for real. She’d like to believe there was at least one out there who was.
“Hey.”
She blinked, trying to clear her brain of the old shadows. “Hmm?”
“You falling asleep on me?” Duff asked.
“What? No.”
“You can, you know. I’m not going anywhere, if that’s all right with you. Actually, I’m staying unless you’re really opposed. This is the first time you’ve bottomed for some time, and I’d rather be here to make sure you’re okay.” He paused, then said, “Yeah, I’d really rather stay, either way.”
Some strange combination of shock and warm pleasure went through her, and it was several seconds before she could find her voice.
“Sure. It’s more than all right.”
“Good,” he said, as if that settled everything. Drawing her in closer, he snuggled into her, burying his face in her hair and taking a deep breath. “Lord, you smell good,” he murmured.
So do you.
It was impossible to say the words out loud. She barely wanted to think them. She knew she was getting her hopes up—about what, exactly, she wasn’t certain. All she knew was this felt so right to her. And simultaneously, as if she were on the edge of disaster.
Just bottoming out a little. Just subdrop.
Tomorrow would be less confusing. Maybe.
Turning her face into his neck, she breathed him in. Oh, yes, he smelled good. He smelled right. And breathing him in, over and over, losing herself and her fears in his scent, she drifted off.
• • •
SHE WOKE WITH a stiff neck and a stupid grin on her face. She was already starting to stretch before she remembered why—why the stiff neck, and why the grin. Her head was pillowed on Duff’s massive chest, her body still shimmering with the lovely soreness from being played and the aftereffects of repeated orgasms.
Thank you, universe.
Her grin widened. She slapped a hand over her mouth, feeling like an idiot.
Despite the bad angle of her neck, she was far too cozy in the arms of the big man. And damn it—her eyes had been open all of twenty seconds and her body was already burning with need, her sex going slick in response to his warm skin beneath her cheek, the tight line of abs under her right hand. And the way the man smelled was pure sin. She’d never been so turned on by a man’s natural scent in her life. And Jesus God, she could drink that in all day long, swallow it down and hold it in her lungs.
Dangerous . . .
Oh, yes, this man was dangerous, and it had little to do with his dominance or even the wicked sadist in him. No, it was more about the way her body responded to him, the way she trusted him, the way he made her smile. The way she wanted to stay right there with her head on his chest, sore neck and all, the entire day.
Damn it.
Better to create a little distance, get her head on straight. Sliding her hand from his stomach with some reluctance, she sat upright on the sofa, pushed the throw blanket off her legs and started to get to her feet when Duff’s hand shot out and grabbed her. He pulled her down on top of him with a growl, and the heat in her body ramped up.
“Where are you going, lovely?”
She let out a short laugh. “What, are you gonna get all stalker-y on me now? Can’t a lady go to the bathroom?”
His features shifted and he released his grip on her immediately. “Of course. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What? No, you didn’t. Just . . . really full bladder.”
“Of course.”
She got up, all too aware that she was still naked as she made her way through her bedroom to the bathroom. There she ran the water in the old pedestal sink, searching her gaze in the oval mirror. She still looked the same, other than the small bruises around her nipples. Running her fingertips over them, she winced a little, but they went hard with pleasure all the same. She shook her head at her reflection, then took care of her urgent bladder and washed her hands. Taking her hair pick from the wooden shelf on the wall, she tried to get her hair in order.
“You are fine. Just fine,” she told herself quietly. “Just because this man is the hottest human being ever born, just because he plays you the way no man ever has, doesn’t mean anything. Lust, maybe. You can deal with lust.”
She pulled her short garnet-colored silk robe from the hook on the door, slipped it around her and cinched the belt tight, then stepped back and lifted the hem of the robe to check out her marks in the mirror. Her thighs were crisscrossed with narrow red welts from the makeshift bamboo cane he’d used on her. She didn’t want to, but she gloried in her marks. Hers. Because Duff had put them there. She allowed herself to gaze at them for another three seconds before dropping the hem of the robe.
“You are one sorry girl,” she muttered to herself, pulling open the bathroom door.
When she stepped back into the living room, Duff had propped himself up on a few of the throw pillows, looking like a lazy sultan against the rich jewel tones.
“Come ’ere, lovely,” he commanded.
She wanted to—she really did. But she couldn’t do it. Not yet.
“How about some coffee first?” she suggested.
“Tea? Say yes and I’ll leave the mark off the ledger for disobeying me, princess.”
“I have tea,” she said over her shoulder, already turning toward the kitchen.
There she busied herself with starting the coffeemaker and the kettle. She poured some milk into her coffee before carrying both mugs back into the living room. How was she going to handle the morning? Her need to run? Her need to climb into his lap, which was just as strong, and infinitely more terrifying? Setting her cup on the coffee table, she handed him his tea, taking a long, steady breath.
“Come sit with me,” he said.
She did, keeping as much distance as she could from his big body, which amounted to a few inches. Picking up her coffee, she held it in both hands as if it could protect her from . . . what? From what she felt for him?
He put his mug down on the side table. “Layla, is there something we need to discuss? Are you crashing?”
“What? No. I never . . . Fuck. I don’t know. Maybe that’s what this is.”
He narrowed his gaze. “What what is?”
“I thought it was just . . .” She paused, biting her lip. “You know, I really was not going to discuss this with you.”
“Bad idea. You know how this works. I need you to check in with me. Are you having some subdrop?”
She nodded, her mind fumbling for what to say. “I woke up this morning a little freaked out.”
“Because we played, or because I was still here when you woke up?”
“A little of both, maybe?”
He was quiet a few moments, watching her, his brows drawn. Then he said, his tone soft, “I get it. I do. You’ve been on your own for a long while. There must be a reason for it, you being the beautiful, enticing woman you are. I’m certain that wouldn’t be the case if you had any desire not to be. So, I won’t intrude, but I’ll assume I’m right.”
She nodded slowly.
“And,” he continued, “waking up with a strange man can be a bit of a shock.”
“I think what was more shocking was how not strange it is,” she murmured, glancing away. But she couldn’t help turning back to him to see what his reaction to her words might be.
He was rubbing a hand over his shaved head. “Yeah. Me, too. Weird, eh?”
For some reason, him admitting to the same feeling allowed her to laugh, allowed her tight shoulders to drop. “Yeah, really weird.”
“All right. So, this is what we do about it: we go along with it, yes? We just let things happen and don’t stop to worry over it.”
“I think I can do that,” she told him, hoping it was true. She wanted it to be true. Wanted not to worry or overanalyze. Maybe if they had an agreement about it, she could manage it.
Maybe.
“Good. Good girl. Now put that coffee down.”
She did as he asked without thinking about it, and he pulled her over his lap while she squealed.
“What are you doing, Duff?”
“Sealing it with a spanking.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be sealed with a kiss?”
“Nah. We’re kinky folk. It’s always a spanking. Prepare yourself.”
She tried to cover her bottom with her hands, but he pulled them behind her back and held them there.
“Duff, wait!”
“Wait? Really, princess? Why should I do that?”
Her brain scrambled for an answer against the crazy push and pull. Don’t do it. Please do it. “Because we have some more negotiating to do, and you know we can’t negotiate once you’ve spanked me.”
“Ah.” He ran a palm over her ass.
“Hey,” she prompted.
“I’m thinking about it.”
She shook her head. “You really are hopeless.”
“Another mark on the ledger. But you’re right.” He released her and let her up. “Negotiate away.”
“Why do you have to make this so hard on me? No, never mind. I know the answer to that. So . . . we need to talk about sex.”
“My favorite subject.”
“And one of mine, as we agreed last night.”
“All right, lovely, let’s hash it out. I want to do it—you want to do it. I’d say we’re done, but I’m too damn responsible a Dom to end it there. Do you still want to?”
That question, the mere suggestion of sex, went through her like a heated touch between her thighs, and suddenly she was soaking wet. She looked into his shining hazel eyes and nodded very slowly.
“Ah, don’t look at me like that, Layla,” he said, gravel in his tone.
“Like what?”
“With that naked wanting in your beautiful eyes.” He wrapped a hand behind her neck, burying his fingers in her hair. “Like you could eat me alive. I know you could. One of the things I like most about you. About this. Being with a woman who is as unabashedly sensual—as sexual—as I am. Oh, yeah. Knowing it’s harnessed under my hands. Too. Fucking. Hot.”
“Duff?”
“Yeah?”
She slipped the robe from her shoulders. “Please?”
CHAPTER
Six
HIS GAZE WENT wide; then his lush lips came down hard on hers as he threw her onto her back. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He pulled them off and pinned her thighs with his knees, making her body surge with new desire. His tongue opened her mouth up, slipped inside, explored, commanded, drank her in.
She could barely breathe between his demanding mouth and the weight of him on her, but she loved it. His hips ground against her, and she felt the solid ridge of his cock through his jeans. Then, tearing his mouth from hers, he swore, backed off her long enough to unzip and kick his jeans off. She would almost have been sorry not to see what she was certain was his gorgeous cock, except that it was pressed against her mound, just above her aching clitoris. Oh, how she wanted him.
“Duff,” she panted. “It hurts.”
Somehow it wasn’t necessary to explain what she meant.
“Yeah, it does, lovely. Hurts me, too. But not for long, now. Finally.”
Kicking her thighs apart, he used his hands to spread her wider and knelt between her legs. She felt his hot breath on her sex for one s
eemingly endless moment—and gasped as he flicked his tongue at her needy flesh.
“Ah!”
When he did it again, over and over, she reached over her head to grab onto the arm of the couch and held on tight as he went to work with his clever tongue. He lapped at her clit, pressing his fingers into her, opening her up. She was so damn wet she took his fingers easily, and would have spread her thighs wider to welcome his every touch if he hadn’t already done it for her. And oh, God, he was pumping into her, three fingers, four—filling her, rubbing at her G-spot while his tongue worked her clit just as hard. The aching need really did begin to hurt, and her mind was a blur of searing sensation and drifting thoughts. Was she allowed to come? Could she stop herself?
And then her body went into fifth gear and she was falling, falling, her climax shattering her system, blinding her, and she was screaming and twisting beneath him. It went on and on, until finally the pleasure rolled back and out to sea, leaving her shivering and twitching.
“Christ, princess. You really do know how to come.”
“You have no idea,” she murmured, half out of her head.
“Don’t I, now? Well, then I shall have to make it my mission to find out.” Raising himself over her, he reached behind him for his jeans and pulled a condom from a pocket.
“Oh, thank God.”
He grinned, an animal hunger in his glittering gaze, in the loose softness of his mouth as he tore the packet with his sharp white teeth and rolled it onto his heavy erection. “You can thank me later,” he growled, positioning his thick cock at the entrance to her body, making her sex clench. “After I fuck you senseless. Or maybe I’ll be the senseless one. Luckily, it doesn’t really matter, does it, lovely?”
“Not at all. I mean, yes, please. I mean . . . I don’t know, Duff. Just do it.”
Reaching down between them, he pinched her pussy lips between hard, hurting fingers, but it only made her need spiral higher. He used the same fingers to spread her open, and pushed the swollen tip of his cock into her.
“Oh! God . . .”
