by Naomi Niles
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I do everything for you all day long – cook, clean, care for your child. Why do you want to make your slave in the bedroom? Don't you want to express your gratitude for me and offer me homage in the form of pleasure? You'd be lost without me, so why not pay tribute to me at the end of the day so I know how much you love me?"
"I can do that," he said with a grin. "So what does that make our roles here in the bedroom? If I'm not the boss and you're not my naughty nanny to punish, what should we call each other?"
"Let's take all the negativity out of our play," I said thoughtfully. "I'm the one who takes care of you all day; so why don't you call me Mistress? And you can be my good boy who showers me with love and pleasure and never gets rejected or punished for it."
Kneeling before me, Tate buried his face between my thighs, paying careful instructions to my body and verbal cues. He listened to me, moving his tongue in just the way I liked best and drawing out my pleasure until I was moaning with the throes of my orgasm.
Then he carried to the bed, laid me in the center, and made love to me for hours, letting me pick the positions, the intensity, and the power. I still liked it rough, with the toys he kept in his hidden room, but this time, I wasn't the submissive. I was in charge of dictating the pleasure he gave to me.
"Spank my ass," I gasped with pleasure as he struck me with the flogger.
"Yes, Mistress," Tate said, hitting me with soft, wide leather tails of the short whip again and again until I came.
"Now fuck with me with it," I moaned. He slid the handle of the flogger into my dripping wet slot, fucking me with it as the screams of my climax echoed off the bedroom walls.
When I was done, I collapsed onto the bed and called him up to join me. "Lay with me, my good boy. That was so incredible. I hope you loved it as much I did."
"I really did," he said, kissing my flat stomach. "Tonight has been a new way of lovemaking for me, and it was better than anything I've done before. I love you."
"I love you, too," I said and spread my thighs wide as Tate made love to me with slow sensuous kisses until we came together, powerfully, as one.
Chapter Sixty: Rachelle
My body was still tingling with pleasure the next morning as I slowly opened my eyes to the morning light. I stretched my tender limbs and focused on the welcome sight of Tate's handsome face gazing at me from his side of the bed.
"How long have you been watching me sleep?" I asked, feeling self-conscious. I wasn't used to being stared at so intently, and I suddenly felt shy about all the things we had done together. It was a new side of me he hadn't seen before, and it made our relationship feel new and different.
"Not long." Tate grinned. "I just woke up a few minutes ago, but I couldn't stop staring at you. I love your hair this way. It suits you. It's even sexier than the ponytail had been."
"Yeah, right." I ran my hands over my messy hair, trying to smooth the bed-head I knew I must be sporting.
He leaned back against his pillow and stretched his arms. "You really wore me out last night. I can't think of the last time I slept so well. How about you? Did you sleep okay?"
"I sure did, but I have to admit, I'm a little sore."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He leaned over me with a worried expression.
"It's okay. It's a good kind of sore," I said, running my hands up the bulging biceps of his arms and then over the pectorals of his chest. "The kind of sore that invigorates your muscles and stimulates your senses. The kind that lets you know you're alive."
"Well, you sure did that for me last night. No other woman has ever done to me the things that you did or made me feel the way that you do." He lowered himself on top of me, so our naked bodies were touching sensuously, and I circled my limbs around him. Kissing me tenderly, he said, "I know you're probably sick of hearing it, but I can't stop saying it. I love you, Rachelle Clare. I really, truly love you with all my heart and soul."
Staring into his eyes with his chest pressed against my breast, I could feel our hearts beating as one, and I knew he was speaking the truth. I believed him without any doubts or insecurities. There were no more secrets between us and no barriers. I'd shown him the real me, and he loved me.
Smiling brightly, I kissed him and said, "I love you, too."
He took me passionately with his mouth then, and I felt his erection digging into my thigh. Still wet from our exertions last night, I needed no further stimulation. I spread my thighs wide and welcomed him into my tight, lubricated tunnel. He sunk in deeply, all the way to the hilt, and I lifted my pelvis, drawing him in even further.
He started to pull back, but I gripped his round buttocks, digging in with my nails, and said, "Don't stop."
"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered. I gave his ass cheek a hard slap with my open palm.
"You won't. Now be a good boy and do as you're told."
"Yes, Mistress." His voice was a husky moan as he drove his rock-hard dick forward, drilling deeper into me than he had ever gone. He was pressing me down against the mattress, penetrating so deep, I thought I might split apart.
"More, I want more," I gasped, hardly able to breathe as I clawed at his buttocks, driving him deeper. Finally, it happened. Tate reached that spot deep inside me that no other man had ever been able to touch, and I exploded with pleasure.
My body spasmed violently as I came loudly beneath him, gasping and screaming with exquisite pleasure.
"Good boy. Now fuck me," I moaned. Tate began to thrust, penetrating his manhood as deeply into my quivering pussy as he possibly could with each drive, hitting that place deep inside my body where pleasure had created its fortress. Every time he rammed inside me, a fresh orgasm exploded within me, and I gushed a river of come over his throbbing dick.
"Harder. Fuck me harder," I cried out, coming with violent rapture so intense, I was practically delirious with pleasure.
"I'm going to come, Mistress," Tate groaned, and I pushed him back off of me.
"Not yet," I insisted, giving his nipples a hard pinch, knowing the shock of pain would help him stave off his orgasm. I flipped over on the bed and got on my hands and knees, presenting myself to him doggy-style like a gift.
Smiling back over my shoulder at him, I said with a sexy purr, "You've been such a good boy, it's your turn to dominate me."
He sidled up behind me and gripped my hips. I expected him to spank my ass and pound me from behind, but he didn't. He caressed my body lovingly, as if worshiping my flesh, and then said to me, "I don't want to be that way with you anymore. I like this new relationship we have better. I no longer need to be the boss domineering his employee or the man punishing the nanny who had once broken his heart.
“My heart now belongs to you, Rachelle, and the only power I want is the ability to make you happy. Now, let me pleasure you."
I pushed him back on the bed and mounted his waist, fucking him until we both came together before I collapsed on top of his chest in happy exhaustion.
"That was incredible," I sighed with satisfaction,
"You're incredible." Tate brushed my sweaty hair back from my face with a caress of his hand. We took a shower together, and as I was getting dressed, he started to unpack my clothes into his closet.
"What are you doing?" I asked with surprise.
"You might as well stay in here with me; that is, if you're willing to live with your boyfriend."
"You want me to live in here with you as your girlfriend?" Tears of joy sprang to my eyes.
"I've wanted that for a long time, but I was too scared to ask you. Scared of rejection, scared Missy would tell you my secrets, scared of being truly happy."
"Yes, I'd love to be your girlfriend. And, I'd love to live here with you." I kissed him happily. Then, a thought dampened my excitement, and I asked him, "Do you think Halle will mind if you and I officially become a romantic couple? After all, I was her nanny."
"Are you kidding, she loves you
. Every time we're alone together, she tells me I should make you my girlfriend. The one who won't be happy about it is Missy." We finished getting dressed and walked down the hall together hand in hand to the nursery where Halle was playing in her bed. We gave her the happy news, and Tate was right: she was overjoyed.
Afterwards, we went to the kitchen together, the three of us, and it felt like we were a real family. Emma made us breakfast and didn't give me the stink-eye even once. Afterwards, we went out to the backyard to play on Halle's enormous playset. Tate pushed her on the swing, and then he held me close, and we applauded as Halle showed off on the slide.
"Watch how high I can climb," she bragged. "Look how fast I can go down."
She went and up down tirelessly while Tate and I held hands and Emma worked nearby, pretending to wash windows when really she was keeping an eye on us all like a protective mother hen. I realized then that the reason Tate kept the cranky old housekeeper around was because she was like the mother he never had. Not some drunk who had given birth to him or some fantasy nanny having an affair with his father, but a real mother who cleaned up his messes and worried about him the way a real mother should. The way my mother did for me, and the way I wanted to for Halle.
"I'm hungry," the little girl said after a while, breaking into my thoughts.
"You just had breakfast." Tate lifted her into his muscular arms with a laugh.
"Actually, it is nearly noon," I pointed out.
"The morning flew by faster than I realized," he said.
"I'll take Halle to the kitchen to prepare lunch," Emma volunteered.
"It's okay. I'll make lunch," I offered. "The vegetables in the garden are ripe enough to pick, and I want to make a special recipe my mother taught me."
"Can I help?" Halle asked.
"Why don't I take you upstairs to the nursery to change you out of those dirty clothes?" Emma suggested.
Halle frowned, but I said, "That's a great idea. By the time you come down, I'll have a special garden lunch for you."
"Okay," Halle acquiesced, and she let Emma lead her by the hand up the stairs.
Once we alone, Tate whispered low to me, "I'd better go check on Missy and tell her she has to move out soon. She can't keep living here now that we're a couple. Especially after the way she reacted to me saying that I love you last night."
"Do you want me to come with you?" I asked, trying to be supportive, but I was relieved when he shook his head no.
"I think it will be better if I talk to her alone. With the way she was acting last night, I wouldn't be surprised if she's hung over this morning. It's her typical routine. She gets sober for a while and then just when you think she's doing great, she flips out over something and uses it as an excuse to get drunk and loaded. A few days later, she disappears, at least until the money runs out. Then the cycle starts all over again. I've seen it a dozen times already, and Halle's not even four years old yet."
"In that case, I'll make my mother's special chocolate cream pie with lunch as a treat. It sounds like you'll need one when you're done."
"This is why I love you," Tate said. I marveled at how wonderful it was to hear him say those words. Despite his teasing, I knew I'd never get sick of hearing it.
I went to the garden and selected some ripe tomatoes from the plant Halle and I had grown. "That should be enough," I said to myself when my hands were full.
Then I saw something that made my blood turn cold: footprints in the soil of the garden, but they weren't mine, Halle's, Emma's, or even Tate's. They left a distinctive tread that I recognized too well, and I froze in place. Stuart Haynes had been walking in this garden – and he might still be there.
What should I do? Run? Scream? Pretend like nothing is wrong?
I decided on the latter and turned casually towards the house, pretending like I was still getting ready to make a salad. My acting must have not have been good enough because he jumped out from behind the shrubs with a large hunting knife in his hand and tackled me to the ground.
The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, and I couldn't call out. Within seconds, he had me pinned to the ground with the knife pressed to my throat so hard I felt a trickle of blood. Oh, God, this is it. He is going to kill me.
"Don't move and don't make a sound, bitch," Stuart growled low in my ear.
I froze in place, too scared to struggle least he slit my throat. The thought of Halle and Tate finding my dead body in a pool of blood was too awful to even consider. For the sake of the people I loved, I couldn't let Stuart kill me. I had to do whatever it took to stay alive.
Chapter Sixty-One: Rachelle
"Don't make a sound or I'll cut your throat," Stuart whispered low in my ear.
His body was crushing down on me, pushing me into the soil of the garden, and his breath stunk. He grabbed a fistful of my short blonde hair and yanked my head back, exposing my throat as he continued to press the blade of his hunting knife against my tender flesh. My heart was pounding so hard in my ears, I could barely hear him, but his threat was unnecessary. I was paralyzed by terror.
"I'll do anything you want," I promised, holding my trembling hands in a position of surrender. "Please, just don't hurt me."
"Oh, you're not the one I want to hurt," he said, and my heart froze in my chest. I had to protect Halle and Tate. It was better for him to kill me than them.
"Everyone else is gone. I'm the only one here," I lied.
Emma had taken Halle upstairs to change from her dirty play clothes into something clean for lunch. I knew from experience it could take a long time, especially if the child refused to cooperate. Tate had gone to Missy's room to tell her she had to move out now that he and I were officially a couple. That, too, could be lengthy conversation.
With any luck, the ones I loved wouldn't come looking for me for long enough that Stuart would be gone. I just had to find a way to trick him into leaving.
"Don't lie to me, bitch," he seethed, and I felt the knife press deeper. Hot blood trickled down my skin, and I knew this was it. He was going to kill me, right here in the garden.
Stuart bent his face down low, so our lips were practically touching, and said "I've been watching you all. I know he's just inside. I know everything you do and everywhere you go. I tried to warn you away from him, but you wouldn't listen. I tried to warn Rose, too; and now she's dead. He killed her, so I'm going to kill you."
"Tate didn't kill Rose. You did," I dared to say, and then immediately berated myself for being so stupid.
"He killed her. It's his fault she's gone. Yes, I was the one who was there when she hit her head and died, but it only happened because of him.
“Once Tate Holland started fucking my beautiful Rose, he corrupted her. She wasn't the sweet and innocent woman I loved. I was forced to try and win her back. That's the only reason I took her to that secret sex room in his bedroom and started fucking her in that sex swing. She wanted me to choke her while I did it, just like he used to do.
“That sick asshole; my sweet Rose was never like that before. He used her and made her into someone else – someone she wasn't. That's why she stopped loving me; he ruined her.
“I was trying to win her back, and it would have worked, but then she fell from the swing and hit her head. It was his fault. His fault she hit her head and died because I never would have been fucking her in that swing if he hadn't stolen her away from me. Rose Landon is dead because Tate Holland caused her death. He killed her, not me."
Specks of spittle flew from Stuart's mouth as he ranted. His face was purple with rage, but at least he wasn't pressing down on me, making it hard for me to breathe, and he had pulled the knife from my throat as his hands gesticulated wildly with the passion of his words.
As his words trailed off, however, he regained his focus and stared down at me intently. Whispering low in my ear again, Stuart said coldly, "Tate Holland killed the woman I loved, and I'm going to make him pay for it.
“I want you to give that piec
e of shit a message for me. Tell him I'm coming for him, and when I get my hands on that murderous asshole, I won't just leave a little scratch; I'm taking back all the blood Rose lost. I'll make him watch while I kill all the ones he loves, including you and the little girl. Then, I'll kill him, too."
Stuart took the knife and wiped the side of it in the blood that was trickling down my neck before he disappeared into the shrubbery.
"Rachelle, I'm all clean. Can I help make lunch now?" Halle's sweet young voice called out from the door leading from the dining room to the garden.
Shit. I couldn't let her see me like this. Even worse, Stuart could still be hiding in the bushes, ready to pounce out with his knife and kill the innocent girl. Paralyzed by shock and fear, I didn't know what to do and so I just lay there on the ground, shaking and bleeding.
"Get back inside before you get all dirty again," I heard Emma's voice as she came outside to find Halle standing there.
"I can't find Rachelle," Halle said plaintively. "She's not in the kitchen, and she's not out here."
"That's odd." I could almost see Emma scowl.
"Hey, what's everyone doing out here?" The wonderful sound of Tate's deep voice joined the conversation. Normally, it was a great comfort to me, but now I was even more afraid than before. Stuart had vowed to hurt Tate. What if I was the bait?
Emma explained to him that she and Halle were trying to find me, and Tate replied to her, "Why don't you take Halle inside?"
"What's wrong? Why do you have that look on your face?" Halle asked her daddy.
"Everything will be okay. I just thought I saw something. Go with Emma." This time she must have obeyed because I heard the door to the house close. A moment later, Tate was at my side.
"My God! What happened?" He knelt down in the dirt and held me, checking for injuries. As I clung to him, I was overwhelmed with relief. I'd been so scared Stuart would kill me, and I'd never see him again. Thinking about it, I realized we were both still in great danger from him. I needed to warn Tate, but my throat was swollen from the assault, and I was going into shock from the trauma. All I could get out was one word.
