Subspace

by Sierra Cartwright

  Jeff shrugged, taking more pasta than tuna on his fork. “Okay, I guess.”

  “You’re a wealth of information.”

  His hand stilled before he went back to eating, and Diana put her chin in her hand, wishing he’d talk to her.

  “It’s not easy, making changes.”

  “I guess,” he said, scooping in food rapidly. When he finished, he shifted restlessly in his chair. “Can I go now?”

  “Yeah.” She touched his arm as he moved past her. “Forgetting something?”

  “Clean-up. Right.”

  He picked up the plates and headed for the kitchen and she listened to the sound of water running and the dishwasher opening as he stowed things. He was rattling the dishes so hard in his haste, she hoped he didn’t break one.

  “Jeff.” She wasn’t getting anywhere with waiting for him to talk to her. She’d been waiting the two months since she’d been appointed his guardian and…nothing.

  “Yeah?” He wouldn’t look at her.

  She reached out and tousled his red curly hair, so like Marilyn’s. He looked up at her with her best friend’s green eyes and Diana’s throat tightened. She so wished Maire was here, for her, and especially for Jeff. “How are you finding the new school?”

  “Boring.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s okay. Mom said schools were just factories to turn kids into working drones.”

  Diana had to smile. “That sounds like your mom.”

  “Yeah,” Jeff said, very softly. Then he gave her a direct look. “Can I go now?”

  Giving in, Diana nodded. She watched the twelve-year-old leave the kitchen then heard the slam of his bedroom door. He was back to building fantastical cities.

  * * * *

  Sloan stepped out of his shower cubicle and snagged an old beach towel, drying off while his mind was elsewhere.

  His erection throbbed, just as hard and aching as it had been when she had lain down for him this morning.

  She. He’d thought of her as just that for so long, ever since he’d glimpsed her through her office window, her hair up with a pen through it, a frown creasing her cinnamon skin, obviously lost in her paperwork. She hadn’t looked up and seen him as he’d stared at her, feeling like he’d taken a kick to the chest. He’d guessed she was his new landlady.

  Sloan had wanted to rush in and meet her but he’d held back. His intuition told him it would be better if he made himself wait until she had the occasion to come to him. Then she’d be on his ground, on his turf.

  When that day had finally come, he’d held her hand and looked into her earnest brown eyes, catching her earthy scent—not perfume, just warm woman. And he’d known she was the woman, the submissive, he’d been waiting for.

  It had been so long since he’d been intrigued by a woman. Since Jess.

  He groaned now as he shifted his hand down to brush over his erection. He wanted to spill hot in his hand, as he had so often after glimpsing Diana, but he took a deep breath and the discipline that had made him a top contender in international kickboxing rings came to his aid. No. He wanted Diana to take care of his needs. When the time was right.

  He walked to the front window in his small living room, directly above his martial arts studio. He pushed one open and let the cool night air brush his skin.

  Diana’s condo above her own office space was opposite his apartment, across an oasis of trees and a little garden with a fountain as well as a parking lot. He leaned against the window ledge, thinking about her, remembering how she’d sounded, how she’d trembled in his arms. Despite being older than he was, she was innocent. No other lover had ever pushed her to the places he could take her. He balled his hands into fists before he made himself take a deep, soothing breath and relax.

  Tomorrow. She would come back to him then, let him give her what she needed.

  He hoped.

  * * * *

  Diana sat up, groggy. She glanced at the clock beside her bed. “Crap!” She threw off the covers and grabbed her robe, tying it before she opened her bedroom door.

  “Jeff?”

  “In here.”

  She found him in the kitchen, putting together peanut butter sandwiches and honey. They were his favourite so he resisted having anything else.

  “I should be doing that,” she said, shoving back her hair.

  She hadn’t slept well last night, lying in bed and thinking of Sloan, restless. Her body had throbbed every time she’d tried to push him from her thoughts. She was hungry to experience the hot wash of pleasure the enigmatic young man had given her.

  “You’re a lousy cook,” Jeff said, but his green eyes had lightened a little so she gave him a smile in return.

  “True.” Not that she’d ever thought she’d suddenly have a twelve-year-old boy to raise and feed on her own. “Mostly take-out.”

  “We can do that tonight.”

  “All right. Maybe Thai tonight,” she said, giving in. “You’re all set? Do you want me to walk you to school?”

  His school was two blocks away from the strip mall.

  He gave her a pained look. “Please. I’m not five.”

  “No, you’re not.” She reached out and then let her hand fall, feeling inadequate. “So I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, later…”

  He was already striding for the door, backpack over one shoulder, red hair tangled. Should she tell him to brush it? He’d probably ignore her.

  “Jeff!”

  He paused, giving her an impatient look.

  She chewed her lip. “Maybe you can bring some friends home. We still have those girl guide cookies…”

  His face closed. “Don’t have any friends.”

  And he was gone, the door slamming behind him as Diana sagged against the counter.

  “Great. That went just great,” she muttered.

  Jeff was hurting. She could feel his pain and loneliness. But so far she could only ache for him from the outside.

  * * * *

  She got caught up all morning in closing the lease with Sian Thompson, another new tenant. She wasn’t sure she fully understood what the art studio and café fusion was going to evolve into, but it was certainly an interesting concept and Sian’s paintings were a plus. The large white canvas with abstract bits of blues and greens had called to Diana. Maybe it would be nice in her living room? Maybe Jeff would take an interest if she consulted him for his opinion. Did he like art?

  She stored the paperwork and then sat back at her desk, looking nervously at her clock. One-thirty. She’d been aware of time passing all morning. If she was going to visit Sloan it would have to be soon, since Jeff would be finished for the day at three-thirty.

  She pulled the pen she’d used as a makeshift barrette from her hair. What would Sloan do with her if she showed up? Alone with him, she gave him control. That was part of what she craved, though the realisation brought a flush of embarrassment.

  She got up, pacing her small office.

  She was wearing a short, pink leather skirt and a pink silk blouse today. Her pendant was a favourite, a cameo of a map of Italy with a little bronze camera. She worried it, the thud of her heart the only sound in her office.

  She was wet, throbbing. She ran a hand ran over her skirt, aware of her secret excitement.

  She had work to do. She had a young kid to figure out. She was a responsible woman. A woman who was too old for the young, sleek warrior three storefronts down.

  She wouldn’t go to him again.

  * * * *

  She hesitated outside Soul Kickin’, hoping she wouldn’t meet up with Nath again. But when she looked inside, she spotted only Sloan, sitting on the floor in full lotus position. His eyes were closed, his expression utterly serene.

  He was a contrast to Diana.

  With a shaking hand, she jerked open the glass door, her high heels clicking loudly against the hardwood.

  Sloan’s amber-brown eyes snapped open and he stared at her c
almly.

  Heart galloping, Diana licked her dry lips. When Sloan didn’t speak, her nervousness increased so she almost wanted to run from him.

  “I don’t want to be here!” The words spilled out. She clenched her hands and stood her ground as he studied her.

  “Then why are you?” he asked in that silken voice that had ensnared her the day before, making her do things she’d never imagined she’d do for a stranger.

  “I don’t know.” She sounded young and defiant, not like a composed business woman.

  “Yes, you do,” he countered, coming gracefully to his feet.

  He came towards her where she stood rigid and circled her, giving her the feeling he was some predatory animal.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ve never…” She swallowed and went on. “I’ve never felt what I did with you.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

  “I know.”

  His voice had gentled, so she opened her eyes, saw a kind of empathy in his.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You do what I tell you.” He folded his arms and waited.

  “Will you make me feel the way I did yesterday?” She was dying to know, dying to feel that way again.

  “Sometimes.” He didn’t elaborate but continued to wait on her.

  Perspiration broke out at her hairline. “Only sometimes?” She couldn’t help it that her voice sounded plaintive.

  His expression remained tranquil, as if he was still meditating instead of talking about her surrender. “Sometimes I’ll bring you right to the edge and you’ll be dying to come but I won’t let you,” he told her softly.

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her need for steadying, cool oxygen. Why did his words only increase her excitement? He was telling her he wouldn’t give her the searing relief he’d offered the first time, that he alone would decide when she came.

  “What are you going to…” She had to clear her husky voice. “Do to me this time?”

  Triumph heated his dark eyes, but then his eyelashes fell and she wasn’t sure she’d seen it. His expression remained cool, as if they were negotiating another contract.

  “That’s for me to know and you to discover,” he said. “If you don’t like anything I do, you’re free just to leave.”

  Outrageous! She couldn’t give in to his demands. But her body yearned for him. She could smell the slight musky aroma that had come from his workout, and he wasn’t immune to her any more than she was to him. His satiny shorts cupped an intimidating erection.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “First…” He ran his hands over her arms, smoothing up and down, over and over again until she closed her eyes and her body relaxed. “Good,” he said. “Do you have at least three hours to be here? I doubt we’ll need all that time.”

  “Three?” Surely they wouldn’t need that much time. Last time it had only been a little over an hour that she’d spent with him. “I guess.”

  “Good.” He stepped back and then pointed towards the back where the shadows would hide them both.

  Gulping in a deep breath, Diana walked over there, feeling again as if she were entering another world.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  She jumped. He was behind her, right behind her, and she hadn’t heard him, but he moved unbelievably quietly on bare feet.

  After a long moment that passed in an agony of indecision, Diana moved her hands to her blouse and she began to unbutton it.

  Chapter Four

  Sloane’s warm breath stirred her hair as her fingers moved quickly down her front. She squeezed her eyes shut and let the blouse fall off.

  He touched her shoulders, rubbing the rounded softness with a gentle but firm massage that helped her relax despite her tension.

  She opened her eyes and looked at his pale hands against her darker skin, finding their differences erotic on a primal level.

  “I think it’s sexy too,” he murmured, and she realised he’d guessed at her thoughts.

  “Now the rest.”

  She remembered he’d wanted to see her breasts the first time but somehow he’d restrained himself, as if to stretch out the anticipation.

  She was wearing a black silk camisole, and he ran his finger over one strap, making her catch her breath. Her nipples were pointing through the fabric, and she was conscious of them, of her rapidly rising and falling chest as she pulled the underwear off, leaving just her full-figured bra. Her lush curves were fully displayed, and for a moment she felt shy since she would never be one of those women who could go bra-less and probably worked out in his studio.

  But then Sloan’s lean hands cupped her breasts and she saw his strained expression in the mirror. He was as caught up as she was. He panted against her neck as he squeezed and held her, as if lost in her ripe female shape. They couldn’t be more different, him so wiry and muscular, with the body of a young, hardened warrior, while she had always had, what a friend had told her was, the perfect ‘earth mother’ body. Not that she’d been particularly fond of it, until he touched her.

  He slid his hands slid under the bra, pushing it up and off her so her bare breasts spilled into his hold. He held her gaze. She looked over her shoulder, his hands still cupping and squeezing as if this was all he would do on this occasion.

  But she soon wanted more, thrusting herself shamelessly into his hands so that he gave a little husky laugh.

  “Impatient today.”

  “Yes!” Now that she had come to him, had crossed this bridge, she wanted more of the pleasure he alone could give her. His liking for her full curves felt wonderful, liberating. “I mean…I came here.”

  “You did. And you think you deserve a reward for that, little one?” he asked, amusement warming that silky voice.

  Little one? No one had ever called her that, but she found she loved it. And she was small compared to him. He was taller than she was, so she had to look up at him, and his warrior strength made her feel almost delicate.

  He helped her remove her bra and her barred flesh felt good, especially when he continued to stroke and touch her and she could feel how hard and excited he was.

  “Now the skirt,” he said and watched as she sat up so she could unzip the back. His warm, rough hands covered hers, not helping her, but imparting his confidence through contact.

  She undid the fastening and then tugged it and her half-slip down, leaving only her black underwear. Here she was again a little unsure of herself because her hips were so full and rounded. When she hesitated, he sat back and watched her, and she knew he was leaving the decision to go any further up to her.

  Somehow, it made it more erotic, as if she were choosing to perform for him. She shoved aside the skirt and slip and then quickly, before she could chicken out, her underwear, so she was completely nude.

  She was conscious of how he was still clothed when he shifted close again and she felt his workout pants against her bare skin.

  “Beautiful,” he praised, caressing her hips the way he had her breasts. “Spread your legs.”

  Heart thudding, she licked her lips and obeyed him, her body tingling, coming alive with painful excitement now they were alone again. All night she’d thought of this, reliving his touch, wondering how she had fallen under his spell so quickly and mysteriously, but now she was with him again he pushed her so she stopped thinking and was just with him, living for his commands.

  “I’m going to spank you.”

  She stiffened, finding the idea alien.

  “Has no one ever done that for you before, put you over his knee and spanked that round ass?” he asked.

  “No.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “And I’m not sure how I feel about letting someone so much younger than I am do it.”

  Instead of being insulted by her challenge, he laughed again. “Your choice, but I can make you feel good.”

  She chewed her lip, a little intrigued. She’d never really indulged her kinky side. She’d been more kinky with Sloan
than in all the years before their encounter.

  He patted his knee in an exaggerated gesture, and she couldn’t help laughing herself. He made it playful as well as sexy.

  She walked to him on her knees and then cocked her head, trying to figure out how to lie over his lap gracefully. Again, she was conscious of how he was fully clothed to her nudity, silently dominant.

  She finally plunked herself down, feeling the hard warmth of his legs, shifting until she was a little more comfortable. When she checked out her posture in the mirror, she stiffened.

  The position opened her body so she could see her dark pink folds. Sloan ran a finger down the open seam of her sex, teasing her. She moaned immediately, closing her eyes as she remembered what they’d done before and how good he’d made her feel.

  “I’d love to train you,” he said in an absent tone as he explored her.

  She wasn’t embarrassed now at how exposed she was, instead she craved more strokes, firmer, and right where she was throbbing.

  He didn’t offer that to her…yet.

  “Train?” she asked in a drowsy voice, her attention fixed on the reflection in the studio mirror of him stroking her.

  “As my submissive.”

  “Your?” She shook her head, knowing she must sound like an idiot, repeating his words. She turned her head and met his gaze, seeing that it was almost sombre in the shadows.

  “You can Google it when you’re alone,” he said. “I want you to.”

  She frowned. “Tell me a little about it now.”

  “You’re a submissive woman,” he said.

  Diana thought about it. In the business world, she’d taught herself to be assertive so she could run the strip mall. She barely had any contact with her father, who had divorced her mother when Diana was very young, but he’d gifted her the businesses even though it had been clear he thought she would fail. But she had not, and she was proud of that.

  Yet in her private life she’d always preferred a man to take the lead sexually. She’d thought it was just another way she was hopelessly old-fashioned and out of date.