by Sabrina York
One piece, a winter study of a denuded, snow-covered tree, spoke to her soul. She loved the lines of the branches, the harsh, desolate beauty. Tiny buds hovered on the branches, bravely awaiting the warmth of spring. The tree was a survivor. Like her.
She glanced at the price tag, winced and moved on to the next piece, dragging Jack in her wake.
She must have wandered through the exhibit for an hour, totally oblivious to the other people milling about, their quiet murmurs echoing off the high ceilings. She was aware of one thing though.
Jack’s hand, warm in hers.
He was incredibly patient, standing by her side as she oohed and ahhed and commented on this piece or that one. Oh, and she was aware of his eyes. On her. Not the art. On her.
When she reached the final photograph, she shot him a grin. “Jack, I loved that. Thank you!”
“My pleasure.”
“How did you find this place?”
He flushed. “I googled it. There’s more upstairs.”
“More?”
“It’s a gallery shared by three photographers. One does landscapes—that’s why we came. One does portraits and the other…”
“The other?”
His blush intensified. “The other does erotic photos.”
A thrill shot through her. “E-erotic photos?”
“Yes. Would you…like to go upstairs?”
Why she felt as if he were inviting her to his bedroom, she couldn’t say. She wiggled her hips impatiently. “Yes.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”
The portraits were incredible but didn’t hold Sara’s interest. What she wanted more than anything was to get Jack into a room filled with erotic art. Then maybe whisper illicit things into his ear. Seduce him. Now.
They climbed the stairs to the third floor at her urging. The top floor was quieter than the others though several couples wandered through the displays, pausing now and again to survey a photo here or there.
Sara tugged Jack into the room, anxious to see what this exhibit had to offer—
She stopped. Stalled. Nearly choked on her own breath at the first photograph.
It was exquisite. Artful. Erotic.
Merely the torso of a woman—a perfectly formed woman—wrapped in intricate knots and rope work. It was titled Shibari Isi. Her breasts were bare, pert, her nipples taut, ripe like cherries.
Sara glanced at Jack. He licked his lips. Like a guy who wanted to suck on those turgid tips but couldn’t.
“Do you like this, Jack?” she whispered.
“It’s, um, very nice.”
“Hmm.” She scanned down to his crotch. Yeah. He liked it.
They moved to the next photo. A woman with her head thrown back, her hand buried in the shadowed crux of her thighs. Her expression was one of absolute bliss.
A stab of jealousy gored her. She’d been close to that this morning. Still was in fact. Without conscious thought, she rocked her hips, enjoying the rub of cotton against her clit.
They continued through the gallery, studying the beautiful portraits—all of people in various stages of arousal or in differing poses. The offerings were varied. Some bondage, a little spanking, ménage. Jack paused—a tad too long—at one photo of a woman’s foot. Just her foot.
Sara made a mental note of that.
And again at another. A woman’s foot sheathed in a wicked shiny, patent stiletto. His throat worked as he studied it. And then they rounded the corner into an alcove where a whole new set of photos, in an entirely different vein, awaited. And Sara discovered something extraordinary.
She’d been watching Jack very closely, trying to discern what he liked and what he really liked. So she saw it. The flare of his nostrils, the way his pupils dilated, the sudden ashen color on his cheeks followed by a harsh, fast flush.
She glanced at the picture and froze.
A man. On his knees. A woman stood before him sheathed in tight latex. She wore the heels Jack had liked and held a wicked riding crop. From the blur in the photo, the Domme was in the process of slapping the crop into her palm.
The look on the man’s face was riveting. His lips were slightly parted. His eyes were glazed. Extreme bliss imbued his features.
Sara laced her fingers through Jack’s. Squeezed.
He glanced at her, his features blank. He swallowed.
“Ready to move on?” she asked.
He nodded but she noted the hesitation.
The next photo was of a woman hanging upside down from a hook in a warehouse, very much like this one, and the next was of two women tied together, breast to breast.
Jack paused at the third in the row.
Again. A man. This time, tied. His wrists were shackled to an X. Sara could only assume his ankles were as well. His cock was visible. It rose angrily on his belly, the head swollen against the ropes coiled tightly along its length.
Jack hissed a garbled word that sounded like, “Je-sus.” Sara was certain he wasn’t even aware he’d made a sound. She studied him, noted the tightness of his muscles, the small tick in his temple.
Exhilaration shot through her.
Holy crap. Jack was into Femdom.
Who could ever have predicted that?
The final photo on the wall was of a woman in full Domme regalia. She was gorgeous, from her sleek dark hair to the tips of her slinky, shiny thigh-high boots. As Jack stared at her, his breathing became shallow. His eyes glazed over. He repeatedly licked his lips.
Sara allowed him to study the picture as long as he wanted. Because this revelation was fascinating to her.
And her mind was whirling, running one scenario after another.
Because Jack was into Femdom.
And so was she.
Chapter Eight
“So, Jack.” Sara swung her purse as they headed back to his car. They’d been in the gallery for quite a while. The sky was starting to darken as dusk descended. “What do you have planned next?”
“Dinner.” He opened the passenger door and helped her into her seat. She could think of one thing and one thing only.
“Dinner?”
“I researched restaurants in this neighborhood. There are some great ones.”
Of course he had.
Researched.
He got in and started the car and pulled onto the street.
“I’m not hungry,” she said. Not for food. She wriggled in her seat. “I’d rather go back to your place.”
“My place?” A squeak.
“Umm hmm.”
He was uncomfortable. Off balance. Good. She loved the feeling of power his reaction gave her. Her mind spun with the revelation that Jack was into Femdom. Not kind of into it. Not “sure I’ll try it if you want me to” into it. But into it.
The possibilities stampeded through her like a herd of rampaging elephants. Rampaging elephants in musth.
“Sara, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” She bit back a smile.
“Like you’re famished.”
“I am.”
“You just said you’re not hungry.”
A Cheshire-cat grin. “I’m not.”
“Sara,” he gusted. “This is our second date. We can’t.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This date is over.”
He gaped at her and nearly hit another car. “What?”
“This date is over.”
“Do you…? Are you…? Do you want me to take you home?”
“No, silly.” She leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “I want you to take me on another date.”
His knuckles went white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “O-okay.”
“Right now.”
Comprehension dawned. It rose in a red tide on his cheeks and peaked at the tip of his ears. His chin firmed with determination. He hit the gas and wove around several slow-moving cars into the fast lane.
Sara smiled and settled back in her seat, rocking into the panties again. Be
cause she was getting laid, and soon.
It took way too long to get home.
Jack stewed in his own juices as they fought the Sunday evening traffic up the 101 into the Valley. Damn it all. Why hadn’t he picked a gallery closer to home?
Aw, hell. He knew why. This one had landscapes. Sara loved landscapes. Too bad he hadn’t paid more attention to the other artists showing today. He’d nearly come in his pants when he’d seen the image of a big burly guy on his knees in front of a stern siren.
He wondered if Sara had noticed. He hoped to God she hadn’t.
It wouldn’t do for her to know how that had affected him. According to all the books she’d given him, women didn’t like wimpy, submissive men. They preferred pushy, dominant, surly men. And the harder to get the better.
It would be difficult playing that game with Sara—it had been. It was.
But he needed to hook her. Really hook her. And hard to get was apparently the way it worked.
They finally—finally—came to his exit. He breathed a sigh of relief as he coasted down the ramp and turned left up into the hills.
“Ooh. You live near Tristan and Shannon,” Sara murmured as they snaked past condos and homes and eventually mansions as they wound up the curving road. “Do they ever come over?”
Jack forced himself to focus on her voice, to respond appropriately. But it was damn hard. Everything was hard.
They were on their third date now.
Everything should be hard.
“Um, sometimes. I have a media room and Shannon likes movies.”
“You have a media room?”
“Yep.”
She glowered at him. “And we always do movie night at my place? With my miniscule TV?”
Yeah. Because he liked being at her place.
But then he realized he liked the idea of having her at his place too.
He liked it a lot.
And now he had the courage to suggest it.
Also, his place was clean.
Now.
“Next time we’ll do movie night at my house.”
“Damn straight we will.” The way she said it made him shiver.
“What kind of movies do you like? I mean, other than bad sci-fi?”
She shifted closer. Her scent surrounded him in a cloud. He nearly blacked out as all the blood in his head made a beeline for his cock. As if there was any room in there. “I like adult movies.”
His vision went a little blurry. He took his foot off the gas so he wouldn’t crash into his neighbor’s mailbox. “Ah. Oh?” Holy crap. Was that her hand on his thigh? It was. But she wasn’t grabbing for his cock—though that would have been nice—she merely drew tiny circles on his jeans. He bit back a growl and used the very last of his attention to park—crookedly—in his driveway.
He set the brake and switched off the engine and turned to her. To kiss her perhaps. To hold her. To fist his fingers in her hair and pull her head into his lap.
But she was already out of the car and standing in the driveway, staring up at his house with her mouth agape.
“You live here?”
Jack glanced at his humble abode, perched on a hill overlooking the San Fernando Valley. It appeared to be a modest rambler from the street but it was actually two stories, with the bottom floor built into the hill. The entire side of the house facing the Valley was a wall of windows. His view was spectacular.
He hopped out, locked the car and jingled his keys. “Yeah.”
“What happened to your apartment?”
“I needed more room.” He shrugged. “Would you like to come in?”
She didn’t answer but shot him a look and marched up the walkway.
He followed, enjoying the sway of her hips and the tight curve of her ass in those slacks.
He hoped to God she’d be out of them soon.
His house had been built in the sixties by a movie star and redone several times. When Jack bought it, he’d redesigned it to his own taste but it had some funky quirks—like the secret room behind a wall in the library—that he’d kept. Because, hey, secret rooms were cool. He lived on the main floor. The bottom floor was where he played.
He opened the door and ushered her in.
She stopped, stock-still, on the threshold. Gaping. “Oh my God. It’s gorgeous.”
“I like it.”
At his urging, she stepped inside, taking everything in. He saw his home through her eyes and pride swelled in his chest.
Thank God he’d tidied up.
She gushed over the flagstone foyer, loving that it was so wide—she put out her arms and twirled around to illustrate how roomy it was. Then she cooed over the great room with its high ceilings and stonework fireplace. It opened into a dining room and spacious kitchen. The bedrooms were off to the left, down the hall. He wanted to guide her there but knew he had to bide his time.
“Are you hungry?” He tossed his keys into a dish by the door.
She shot him a piquant grin. “What are you offering? Those nasty microwave sandwiches?”
“You know I don’t eat those anymore. I could grill some salmon. Make a salad?”
“That sounds good. But not yet. I want to look around. What’s out there?” She waved to the deck.
“Come on. I’ll show you. There’s a nice view.”
As they crossed the great room, Ding rocketed around the corner and twined himself between Jack’s legs.
Sara blinked. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”
Jack picked up the ball of orange fur and scratched him beneath his chin. A loud purr rumbled. “He showed up on my doorstep a couple weeks ago, all mangy and skinny. I made the mistake of feeding him. Now he won’t leave.”
“Ooh. Such a pretty baby.” Sara stuck out a finger and Ding sniffed her then rubbed his cheek against her.
“He likes you.”
“What’s his name?”
“I call him Ding, short for Schrödinger.”
She snorted a laugh. “You did not name your cat Schrödinger.”
“I did.”
“Jack, that’s the nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard. And I’ve heard a lot.”
He shrugged, biting back a smile. “What can I say? I’m a fan of quantum entanglement. Besides it was a better name than Verschränkung.”
“True.” She scratched the spot behind his ears and Ding began to drool. “Does he like boxes?”
“Indubitably.”
“How ironic.”
Jack winked. “Yeah, but it’s a delicious irony.”
She laughed. God, he loved it when she laughed.
He led the way to the deck, which curved around one side of the house, and dropped Ding down on the flagstones. The cat proceeded to clean himself furiously.
“Oh. My. God,” she gasped.
“I know.” Jack gazed at the twinkling lights spread out before them. “I told you it’s a great view.” Especially at night. Especially with Sara here.
But her attention was trained on something else.
“Holy crap, Jack. You have a hot tub.” She rounded on him. “Why did you never tell me you had a hot tub?”
He shrugged. “Not something that comes up in conversation. Do you want to take one?”
“I don’t have a suit.” She pouted.
“You have a birthday suit.” The words were out of his mouth before he thought them through. But then—hot damn—she nodded.
“Okay.”
Heat raced through his body, straight to his cock. All of a sudden, nude hot-tubbing didn’t seem like a very good idea at all. He would probably lose all control and come the first time her foot brushed his in the water. “Or you could wear a t-shirt.”
She studied him through her lashes. A hint of disappointment flashed across her features. Or maybe it was cynicism. Or determination. Tough to tell.
“I’m just…I don’t…I can’t…” He couldn’t seem to explain himself. Being naked with her in the hot tub was one of his favorite late-night finger-
date fantasies. But now the possibility was staring him in the face and it kind of scared him to death.
Even though this was their third date.
Maybe because it was their third date.
She set her hand on his arm. It was warm. He loved the way she stroked him with her thumb. “It’s all right, Jack. A t-shirt is fine.”
* * * * *
Okay.
Maybe he shouldn’t have given her a white t-shirt.
This he thought as he hunkered down in the steaming water in his terminally tented swim trunks and fixated on Sara sitting across from him in wet—see-through—cotton. God. She was magnificent.
And it was more alluring, seeing the coral discs of her nipples, the outline of her breasts through the sodden fabric—wondering—than having her bare-ass naked before him.
He set his teeth and glanced away, pretending to appreciate the view. It was a gorgeous view. He knew it was because he’d studied it many nights when he’d been in the hot tub alone.
Right now nothing was registering. Nothing but this woman.
And the pressure in his cock. Hell.
“Do you know what I was doing when you showed up this afternoon?”
Jack started. “Y-you told me already. You were thinking about me.”
“Yeah. What else was I doing?” She shifted closer.
He swallowed. “What else?” Damn. He hated it when his voice squeaked like a dude in puberty.
“Yes, Jack. What was I doing while I was thinking about you?”
“I-I don’t know.”
Her hand crept onto his thigh. He couldn’t see it but he could sure as shit feel it. “I was stroking my clit.”
Fuck!
“And I had a vibrator wedged up into my cunt. I was ready. Ready to come, Jack. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I needed you to do it for me.” She kissed his neck, nuzzled his nape. He shuddered. “But you wouldn’t. Would you, Jack?”
“Y-you should have said something.”
“I did. You missed the cue.” She made her way up the line of his chin. “Or you ignored it. I think I need to teach you to be less stubborn, Jack.” He shivered at her choice of words, at the vision they invoked. “I think I need to teach you a lesson.”
“A-a l-lesson?” He didn’t think he could take this. It was too—
