by Cara Dee
Inching closer, I rest my cheek on his shoulder and give him a squeeze.
He kisses the side of my head. "Then I went to New York for a seminar, and a few of us went out one night. And there you were." He grows silent for a beat, absently fiddling with the buttons on his shirt I'm wearing. "Back home, I had a sub waiting for me. She never questioned a thing I said. Did everything I ordered. Pleased me. Never bothered me. We played together here and there—alone or with others." Ah. The sharing. "She was the perfect slave, exactly what I was used to—what I thought I wanted."
Thought he wanted…
"Look at me." He lifts my chin, his gaze penetrating. "You have unforgettable eyes, Chelsea. In every sense of the word. Did you know that?"
I roll them and ignore the blush rising to my cheeks. "Yeah, I know they're weird." My brother had normal eyes—an intense gray color. But I have Central Heterochromia, and in my case it means a dark violet color around the pupil that merges with the gray.
Rio shakes his head slowly and palms my cheek. "Not weird. Unique and exquisite. They kind of sucked the air out of my lungs when I first saw you." He kisses me chastely, and there's no ignoring the heat in my face now. "Even at sixteen, you looked like a goddamn sin." The man has a way with words. "That’s what shook me, too." The light dims from his eyes, and his mouth thins. "You said I reacted differently than the other motherfuckers you hit on, but I didn’t." His hand falls from my face. "I wanted you. You have no idea how close I was to bringing you to my hotel and screwing the daylights out of you."
I choke on nothing and sit up straight; however, that gives Rio the wrong idea, and more resignation shadows his features. He thinks I'm grossed out by him.
"You didn’t," I say unnecessarily.
"I wanted to," he repeats. His leans back and grasps the ends of the armrests with both hands. Distancing himself from me. "Even after you confessed your real age. Even though I could clearly see what you needed was stability and—Jesus fucking Christ." He releases a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What you needed was a home, a damn meal, and people who cared for you."
Now I'm annoyed, so I straddle him to face him fully, and I fold my arms across my chest. "You could see all that, huh?" I respond dryly. "You've got skills."
"Give me a break." He cocks a brow. "You were sixteen and dressed like a prostitute. You were stick-thin, under the influence, and your friends looked like addicts. It didn’t take a genius to figure out you came from a broken home."
I stare at him a bit longer, his words sinking in, punching me in the gut, and then I look away grudgingly. I guess it was fairly obvious.
He gets up close again, a glare fixed in place. "And I still thought with my dick." His jaw tenses. "I still wanted to take you away from all that and make you my personal property."
Wait… My eyes narrow. "Hold up. Either you wanted a quick fuck, or you wanted to make me your sub—slave, whatever. Make up your mind 'cause there's a fucking difference." Especially since he'd been in the BDSM community for close to a decade when we met. He would've known, back then, that owning a sub isn't all about blow jobs whenever you want or having your meals served with a snap of your fingers. It's about nurturing and…so many other things.
Rio shrugs with one shoulder and leans back once more. "It really doesn’t matter, Chelsea. I did want to take care of you as well, but I also wanted my cock shoved up your cunt."
I bristle at his crudeness, which I know he's laying on thick solely to come off as the disgusting bastard he seems to believe he is…or was.
I've got one hell of an argument bubbling up, but just like that, the urge to dispute him drains outta me. Once again, he's fighting us.
Is this how it's gonna be?
I don’t know how much more I can take, nor do I think I deserve it.
"Okay." I stare at him flatly. "Will that be all? Am I being released before I can start? I'd like to know."
A frown knits his brows together. "What—" And he gets it, what I'm wondering. "God no, sweetheart." He's quick to close the distance between us and press our foreheads together. I'm still irritated, but I can't deny feeling relieved, too. "If it's up to me, you're not going anywhere. I only wanted to tell you this. I don’t want you to think I'm all that noble—"
I cut him off, shaking my head minutely. "I don’t care about what you thought. What matters is what you didn’t do. You didn’t bring me to your hotel—for a quick fuck or not. If people had to be held accountable for their thoughts, we'd all be in prison. Everyone thinks some fucked-up shit at some point."
His mouth twists into a small, rueful smile. "You may be right. But for me, it was fucked-up enough to leave my lifestyle behind. Everything about you rattled me. I've never felt less in control of myself. What I believed I wanted didn’t do it for me anymore, and the image I had of the man I was changed."
I tilt my head, curious. "You keep saying that—that you thought you knew what you wanted. Are you saying you don’t want a perfect sub?"
I'm hardly perfect, but I love high protocol and feel more at home when I can be who I am, which is completely submissive.
"I'm saying that my definition of perfect sub changed." His hands return to the armrests, though he stays a little closer now. "After I came home from New York, I tried to get back to normal. But the partners I'd once enjoyed annoyed me, and I realized they were never people for me. They were playthings without opinions and views. It got old. To each their own, of course, but I wanted less of a doormat and more of…more of the defiance and strength I saw in those eyes of yours that night." Hmm. Sure, I was defiant at sixteen, but— "Defiance might be the wrong word," he murmurs, frowning to himself. "Opinionated." Much better. "You might be submissive, baby, but that doesn’t mean you're weak. You're a strong young woman who isn't afraid to speak up. You go after what you want."
Yes. You.
More than ever.
He sees me, all of me, I'm sure of it now.
I haven't questioned that, though. It's more about whether or not he sees himself.
"All right." I look down between us. "So…instead of leaving the scene, why didn’t you just go after the new kind of sub you wanted?"
"Because—" he lets out a hollow chuckle "—I couldn’t stop seeing your face. I built up this girl who didn’t exist, and she looked like you." He sighs and twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. "It got to the point where I was sick of myself, and I ended up walking away. I went for the cookie-cutter, all-American dream. Got a vanilla girlfriend, poured myself into work, and kept my old friends at arm's length."
Well, I definitely get it now. My beautiful Master is a jaded mess because he's been punishing himself for over ten years for something he never did.
What if everyone punished themselves for the times they've wanted to do something wrong? Like lying. Like cheating. Like stealing. Like fucking killing. It all boils down to what you do, how you act, not what you sometimes wish. God, I wish I could strangle ninety percent of our country's politicians, but that doesn’t mean I'm gonna do it. I want a roll in the sack with half of Hollywood, but if they paraded into my bedroom, I'd suddenly have standards. It'd be cool to rob a bank, get away with it, and live the rest of my life in Mexico.
Fleeting thoughts and urges that are taboo don’t make a person bad, and sometimes we have fantasies that come to life in our heads. We covet them, but we draw the line at imagination.
"You're a wonderful man, Master." I kiss his lips and move my arms around his shoulders. "And the girl you cooked up in your head who happened to have my face just might be real. Gimme a shot and we'll see. Okay?"
Rio hugs me back—hard—and holds us still for several minutes.
It hits me that maybe I'm not the only one who's been looking for comfort. Having grown so cynical over the years, Master's shut out any potentials. He's kept everyone at a distance, effectively alienating himself from whatever he's wanted in his life.
Chapter 13
I press
the fancy fob to lock Rio's Lexus, and with Jase holding one of the boxes and me the other, we walk up the driveway toward my Master's house. Part time, I guess it's my home now, too. Not that I've moved a lot of stuff here, but I've been ordered to spend at least three nights a week here.
Definitely not complaining.
After Nicholas offered me a new position last week in his…what should I call it—club empire?…Rio's house is now also where I'll have a small study.
A month into my training as Rio's sub, he felt inspired to go back to work. He didn’t want a full-time gig at a hospital though, so he decided to volunteer at a free clinic. Dr. Kelly is one sexy mofo.
It was my job as a hostess at Nicholas's club The Library and Rio's hours at the clinic that prompted my Dom to call in a few favors. "With you working nights and my working days, I don’t see you enough," he'd told me before dialing Nicholas's number.
As of yesterday, I'm one of Nicholas's assistants. 'Cause apparently the man has several.
He's opening two clubs in the Bay Area this year, so all meetings concerning his new projects go through me now. Which is daunting as fuck, because I've never been a PA before. Nor do I have the amount of faith in me Nicholas evidently has. But damned if I'll screw up, hence buying and borrowing a bunch of material for me to read up on.
I love the challenge, though. It's exciting, and that’s certainly a new feeling for me when it comes to work.
"You forgot to mention your new man owns a mansion," Jase drawls, scanning the large façade.
I chuckle nervously as I dig for the spare keys Rio's given me. Truth is, it's a bit intimidating. He keeps telling me to feel at home, but that’s gonna be a while. A part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or for Rio to start fighting us again.
That said, he hasn't done anything lately to feed that fear. Quite the opposite. I have my own room next to Rio's—although he wants me in his bed whenever I spend the night—I have access to a fucking Lexus, I have keys and a damn credit card in his name, and I practically run his household.
As part of my training, I take care of groceries, laundry, sending the cars to be washed, and I deal with the cleaning service that comes once a week. I also run by the clinic with lunch for him if I have time, and on the days I'm here, I make sure dinner's ready by the time he comes home. And when he does arrive, he finds me kneeling naked in the foyer.
It's never been this intense for me before, but I love the workload. I love all the tasks and responsibilities. Just the other night, Jase and Robby saw me writing in my sub journal, and that’s why Jase is here now. He wants to meet the man who's ordered me to reflect on every scene and write out my thoughts on all the changes in a notebook that I present to him at the end of each week.
My roommates are sweet as hell. They've sorta taken on the roles of big brothers, something I've missed since I lost my own brother years ago. But Jase, Robby, and Tristan have nothing to worry about.
"We're a bit early," I say, opening the door. I quickly shut off the alarm system and then close the door after Jase. "Rio won't be home for another hour."
When I told Rio about my roommates, he was quick to invite them over for dinner. Tristan's working though, so it's just Jase and Robby. Robby will get here later.
"Where do you want this?" Jase nods at the box in his arms.
So I lead the way down a hallway. We pass Rio's study before we reach the smaller one that is mine now.
*
Fifteen minutes later, I'm pouring Jase a glass of red and I've just put the lasagna I prepared this morning into the oven. Jase's recipe. He'd smirked and nodded in approval after inspecting it.
"The guys have appointed me the interrogator," he tells me.
I raise a brow and sit down at the kitchen island with my own glass.
He stares right back, serious. "This guy, Chelsea. We wanna know he's good for you. You've only been with him for two months, and now you're practically his live-in maid." I open my mouth to argue, but he shuts me up with a simple look. "I know you get off on serving, babe. That’s not the issue. We'd like to know if there's more. Does he take care of you? Does he want more than a servant? Does he have your best interests at heart?"
I let out a breath, torn between gratitude for their concerns and annoyance because Rio's intentions couldn’t be clearer to me. But Jase and the others don’t see Rio—how he is with me at Switch, at home, and how well he balances the strict orders with the gentlemanly sweeping me off my feet.
It's partially my fault, because maybe I've only told my roommates of the things Rio demands of me.
"He's incredibly caring," I start off by saying. "My job—he didn’t take that lightly. While he was dismayed by how little we saw each other the first couple of weeks, he didn’t want me to take just any job. He was getting ready to help me when Nicholas—"
"Your friend Kayla's fiancé, right?"
"Exactly." I nod. "He suggested the PA gig before Rio could get more involved." And I think I'm gonna really enjoy my new job. "Hmm, what else can I say to ease your mind…" I grin and tap my chin, all while Jase waits expectantly. Damn, he was serious. Okay. "Look." I reach over to put my hand on his. "I'm extremely thankful for you guys, but you don’t gotta worry. My entire relationship with Rio is about him slowly but surely taking over almost every aspect of my life. To any outsider, that will look weird."
"That’s why we're worried," he reasons. "We just want to make sure it's what you want."
"It is." I sit up straighter and smile. "I mean, there are things about my vanill—everyday life that won't change, but a lot of things will."
He tilts his head. "What kinds of things won't change?"
Oh, that’s an easy one. "I'll never be a housewife, for one," I chuckle. "I don’t feel the need to contribute financially, but I want to. I also need to have that small part of me remain independent." And Rio wouldn’t change that. He's already told me he ultimately wants to provide for me, but he also encourages me to have my own life. "I still have the same dreams most people have, settling down, getting married…" Having a child. But it's too soon to voice that dream, and frankly, the topic makes me nervous to bring up.
My Master isn't a damn flight risk, so maybe I'm not being fair, but I can't help it, dammit. Baby steps.
Jase gives me a knowing look. "Uh-huh. And what about his brother? Have you guys talked about his reaction to that other sub—what she did? Have you told Rio about the Facebook thing? Have you opened up to him about the fact that involving others in your relationship makes you uncomfortable?"
I chew on my thumbnail.
Honestly, the Facebook issue isn't even an issue anymore. The more I get to know Rio, the more certain I become he'd only get a good laugh from hearing about my stalking. But the rest Jase mentioned? Ugh.
"Talk to him, rope girl," he tells me gently. "I get that this is new, but those are some fairly major concerns. You're halfway in love with the man already; you don’t want to set yourself up for heartbreak."
I sorta wanna stab his hand with a fork.
*
Robby shows up some twenty minutes before Rio's due, and Jase and I are putting together a salad and setting the kitchen table.
I'd go with the dining room, but I figured this was more relaxed.
"How did the pitch go?" Jase asks Robby, and I see how they nearly lean in to kiss but catch themselves and back off.
I shake my head.
"The chick had some interesting ideas, but I dunno." Robby shrugs and scratches his nose. "Nothing original about a game where you hunt werewolves. I doubt it's a project they'll continue with, much less hire me to develop."
Leaning my hip against the counter, I face them both and ask, "Video games—good times—but when are you two gonna stop sneaking around?" I sure as hell have their attention now. "You do a piss-poor job of it, too. Both Tristan and I know you guys are together."
A flush creeps forward on Robby's cheeks, and he runs a hand through his h
air and looks away.
Jase coughs and tries to focus on the salad a bit too intently.
I snort and roll my eyes then take four plates over to the table.
"I thought we were being subtle," Robby whispers to Jase.
"You weren't," I say frankly. "Apparently you can't whisper very well, either." I blow him a kiss.
At that point, I see Rio's Jeep rolling up the driveway, and I swear I get butterflies.
Hell, I might be more than halfway in love with him. Because unlike what my roommates are aware of so far, it's so much more than D/s between Rio and me. For a Dom with sadistic tendencies, he's incredibly sweet and romantic.
Walking out into the foyer, I straighten my pencil skirt and snug button-down, then open the door for him just as he reaches for it.
His eyes roam my body from head to toe, then up again, a smile lighting up his handsome face.
"My little walking felon." He drops his briefcase inside the door and pulls me close. "If this is how you'll dress when working for Nick, I think we'll have to play out a few librarian and schoolgirl fantasies." I shiver and grin as he engulfs me in a hard squeeze, his five-o'clock shadow rasping tantalizingly along my neck. "God, I missed you today, love."
There it is.
"Me too, Master." I sigh contentedly and drop a kiss where he's loosened his tie. "Let me take your jacket."
He hums and straightens, watching me as I remove his suit jacket. "You're singing tomorrow night too, yes?"
I nod and hang up his jacket in the closet. "Yes, Sir. Master Cooper will be there with Brayden and Evangeline, too. Date night and all."
He grins as he rolls up the sleeves of his gray button-down. "Good place for it. I'll be there, of course." Thing is, it has turned into an "of course" too because he hasn't missed a single gig. He'll be there tonight, as well. "I'm having dinner with Gabe and his fiancé before, so we'll drive over to the bar afterward."
