by Deana Birch
“It is a pity, this foul habit of not being on time, making people wait.” He drew his hand back, but Claire stayed still. ”I do wonder why you would think your time is more important than mine. And now, my plans have been changed. Quite inconvenient.” He clicked his tongue.
Luca leaned down and took in her lovely light scent. In her ear, he whispered, “And I am quite disappointed. I’d been imagining for weeks the look on your face when I make you come the first time.”
She flinched, and Luca stood back up.
“Oh yes, sotto. Many weeks.” He sighed dramatically and crossed his arms. “But you decided to make me wait. You see all the power you hold?”
She stared at the ground and her chest stuttered on her inhale.
“I asked you a question. But today seems to be a day of firsts—the first lesson for you and the first time a sub has dared to be late for a first meeting with me. So, I shall commit another virgin act and repeat myself. Don’t get used to it.” He slowed his speech. “Do you see how your actions—your decisions—hold power?” He walked back in front of her.
“Yes,” she said in a meek voice.
“Eyes!”
Her blue beauties snapped up.
He corrected, “Yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said with more strength.
Better. “You may return your gaze to the floor.” Luca checked his watch. He had only intended on spending an hour in the scene then however long she needed in aftercare. It was her first day. He reminded himself to be gentle. No ropes.
“I am a strong believer that the punishment should fit the crime. So yours should, too. You shall wait.”
Luca’s dress shoes scuffed over to the end of the large four-poster bed.
“Stand.”
Claire did as she was told, keeping her eyes down. She was doing well. Very well.
“Lie down on your stomach in the middle of the bed and spread your legs. Put your arms overhead and cross your wrists.”
Again, his new sub followed his orders. He checked his watch and stood silent for three minutes.
When the needle ticked the final second, he sat down on the side of the bed.
“Close your eyes, sotto.” A rasp had taken over his stronger commanding voice and he reached to the curve at the base of her spine. He trailed his fingers along an aimless path on her soft, creamy skin.
His discovery continued, sometimes brushing over the hem of her underwear, but mostly central to the little dip in her back.
“Did you learn, in all your reading, that your orgasms now belong to me?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her faint voice matched the quiet energy of the room.
“Brava. You understand that there will be none without my express permission for the duration of our time together.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He ventured his fingers south and ran them up and down the outline of her white lace. The hint of heat between her legs called to his depths.
“This color is perfect for you, Cara. Always wear white unless I tell you otherwise.”
Claire wet her lips and said a breathy, “Yes, Sir.”
He touched her inner thigh and she whimpered. “Do you like my touch?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” Luca slipped his middle finger inside the seam to find his sub dripping in anticipation. He spread her need in a slow circle, careful not to contact the one spot she would most definitely want him to tease.
“You were six minutes late, Claire. And for that, you will not have an orgasm for six days.” His sleepy torment continued, still eluding her clit. “But every night you will come here at seven p.m. and we will repeat this act—except Friday. That has been established as a limit for you. But you will not climax until Saturday. Do you understand?”
“Yes…”
He stopped his fingers and sat up straighter.
“Yes, Sir,” she corrected herself.
He retraced the path one more time. “There is only one catch. You have to tell me when to stop.” His circle narrowed, approaching what he knew would be an aching nub.
“When you are about to explode, you must say ‘stop’.” He kept his lingering pace but added pressure.
Claire squirmed under him. Being still would require an entirely different lesson.
He found her clit and tapped it once.
“Stop! Oh my God! Stop, stop, stop.”
Luca ceased all movement and regretfully removed his hand. The spell was broken, and he already longed for more. His sub-in-training wormed away and shuddered.
“You did well, Claire. A little too much wiggling, but you did great.” He smiled as he stood up. “Get under the covers. I’ll be right back.”
Luca walked to the en suite bathroom, washed his hands, refolded the towel just right and went back to find Claire. In the minutes he’d left her alone, her energy had changed. On her side, she faced away from him and had already assumed the fetal position. The mighty high of a scene, her first, had vanished, the unfortunately reliable sub-drop too present.
He cornered around the bed and bent down so they were face-to-face.
“Look at me, Claire.”
She stared at the door.
“Claire, I need your eyes. We’re not done.”
She drew her eyebrows together but met his gaze.
“Thank you. Please tell me you read about aftercare. It’s incredibly important.”
She nodded.
“Good.” He stroked her hair and tilted his head. “You can look me in the eyes as long as you want now. You can even touch me.” He winked. “But, most importantly, you need to talk to me. What’s troubling you?”
She worked her jaw and blinked away the tears puddling in her eyes. If this had been a mistake, he would regret it. But deep down, something in her called out to him. Was it lust? Certainly. But more so, it was truth—their true natures reaching out to connect. She was new to all of this, and when one begins to uncover stones, one might find crushed flowers.
“Trust, Claire. You have to trust me.” He kissed her brow and pulled back.
She let out a long breath. “I don’t want to spend the night with you.” Her head shook back and forth. “I don’t want to sleep in the same bed with you.”
A lonely tear fell down her temple and landed on the white cotton pillowcase supporting her head. He touched her splotchy cheek with the back of his hand.
In a soft, understanding voice he said, “I don’t remember asking you to do that, cara. But I assure you it’s not a problem. What I’d really like to do is hold you, because you’ve been so brave today. I want to show you how proud of you I am.”
The words settled between them and her jaw continued its small movements.
“You didn’t get me naked. Is that, like, a thing for you? Or do you not want to see me that way?”
There she was, the spunky Claire. He smiled down, and she sniffled.
“Well, one… You are absolutely stunning like that. Better than I imagined. And, as I’ve already told you, I have an excellent imagination.”
She nuzzled into the pillow.
“And yes, I have a thing for you in white. I’m not even sure why. Probably that dress from the other night. But not getting you naked was also for you. You’re new to all of this. I’m trying to go slow.”
She reached out from under the covers and interlaced her fingers into his. Her light skin threaded into his olive counterpart and he reveled at the sight.
When he searched for her eyes again, he found her staring at him.
Just above a whisper, she said, “I liked it, Luca. I felt more right than I have in a long time.”
He squeezed his fingers around hers. “You’re a natural.”
“So, aftercare. This is where I get whatever I want to feel better? It’s like me being the Dom?”
“Ha. Not quite, sotto. But certain rules are suspended, like the looking, until I’m satisfied that you are in a good place physically and emotionally. I won’t le
t you back out into the world without having made sure you’re okay.” Luca moved from kneeling and sat on the side of the bed.
“So, if I ask if you’ll hold me, I can touch you back?”
He narrowed his eyes. She negotiated huge financial deals for a living, so maybe his guard needed to go up.
“Within reason,” he answered. “But you can ask. I can always say no. I have limits, too.”
A twisted grin pulled at her lips. “I do want you to hold me. Desperately, truth be told.”
Thank every heaven. One small brick of her wall had tumbled. The only problem was that Claire’s bricks usually came with stipulations, like the whole Friday night thing. What is that?
“But…” Luca arched an eyebrow, anticipating her next statement.
“But I want you to do it with your shirt off.” Claire bit her bottom lip.
Luca reached out and tugged it free with his thumb. “Is that all?”
“For now.”
There was a reassurance with her request. It was physical—safe, out in the open—not like the sliver of emotion in his heart that he was doing everything in his power to ignore. Because his pride for Claire went deeper than seeing someone obey and surrender.
No, that tiny thread would need to be nipped in the bud. The enormity of what she’d asked him to do—train her and introduce her to what one should expect from Doms—was not a task he took lightly.
Luca stood up from the bed and untucked his dress shirt. He unbuttoned it and straightened the sleeves. After he’d stowed it away on a hanger next to Claire’s coat, he walked back to the bed.
“Am I allowed to take my shoes off as well?” he joked.
“As you wish.”
His three favorite words. There was no way she could understand their power. Luca kicked off his shoes and met Claire in the middle of the bed. He leaned against the headboard and she moved into him as if they’d done it a million times before.
He let her squeeze into him nice and tight and he played with her ponytail while her cheek rested on his bare chest.
“It’s pretty normal to come down hard after the adrenaline of a scene, Claire. And today was small. It’s obligatory that you let me care for you after.”
“Okay.”
Luca pressed a kiss into the crown of her head.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“Mmmm. I am.”
“Good. Let’s talk about what you had for lunch.”
Chapter Twelve
Claire
Julien’s jaw dropped as Claire stormed through the front door at eight o’clock on the button—for the fourth day in a row. “My, my, my…”
She held a hand up. “Don’t start.” She bit the words out as she sailed past him and locked herself in the relative sanctuary of her office, pressing her back against the cold door. She could text Luca, call Luca or send a fucking carrier pigeon to his doorstep, begging him to see her tonight and end the torture.
Every day her desire was ramping up higher under Luca’s talented and taunting hands, literally. Showering this morning had been an exercise in futility. All she could envision were olive-colored fingers touching her, caressing her, bringing her just shy of the pinnacle she craved more than oxygen.
Shirtless. Every night this week since her admission in their first aftercare session that she liked having him shirtless, that fucking bastard had made her watch as he took his time unbuttoning his shirt, had folded it three times and laid it on the chair before beginning his exploration. The short, soft hairs on his chest would dance across her back, her stomach, her thighs as he leaned in, his body brushing lightly against hers while she lay helpless in whatever position he’d ordered her into.
She crossed the room, dropped her case and her purse on the floor beside her desk and slumped into the seat. Today could be her one of freedom and pleasure. She’d technically be allowed a release under Luca’s six-day punishment. The throbbing at her core intensified, remembering the purring orders that she was not allowed an orgasm due to her tardiness. In that moment, she was certain all Luca would need to do was to dip his chin, pin her with the look that always set her body ablaze and give permission. She would be screaming from a climax without even having his hands on her body.
Her breath stuttered on an exhale. She propped her elbows on her desk and dropped her face into her hands. But today was Friday. She couldn’t do that to Liam, no matter how much her traitorous body cried for relief.
Three taps brought her head up. Julien stood in the doorway with a handful of papers and one eyebrow—more perfectly shaped than Claire’s—arched in question. “Has Medusa tamed her snakes or should I come back another time?”
Claire narrowed her gaze. “What do you want, Julien?”
He closed the door behind him and took a seat in the cubed chair across the desk from her. “You have three contracts to review, two conference calls and correspondence to answer.” He set the papers in front of her. “But first you need to tell me why your face is more pinched than the old lady who lives beneath me and why the bitchy side of Claire that is normally reserved for brokering the big deals has come out to play.”
Claire leaned back in her chair. Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth for a moment before she popped it free. Even when Luca wasn’t here, she couldn’t allow herself to fall into the habits she was working to break. He would be disappointed if he caught her.
She tilted her head and regarded her assistant, her friend—the closest thing to real family she had left in this world. But as much as she loved and trusted him, could she possibly disclose… this? “It’s been a long week.”
Julien snorted and crossed his legs. “Tell me about it. In the past five days I have gone from dealing with a confused Claire to an angry Claire to a bitchier-than-I-ever-thought-possible Claire.” He held a hand out in front of him, inspecting his nails. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone needed to get laid.” He grinned around his fingers. “But I believe a certain Italian stud has that all handled.”
No. No, he most certainly did not. Claire squirmed in her seat and thinned her lips. Each day seemed worse than before and today was the most tortuous of all. Knowing that a simple acquiescence, less than a one-minute phone call, would put an end to the ache… A thrill shot through her as she envisioned Luca’s body on top of hers, undoubtedly creating a new and very welcome ache as he thrust into her…
Fingers snapped in front of her face, making her jump. “Is the sex so good you’ve gone braindead?”
She swallowed and forced the heat to leave her face as she composed her expression into something much more appropriate. For better or worse, Julien was all she had and had proven himself reliable and trustworthy time and again. If she needed anything in this moment, other than Luca Bernardi naked, it was his advice.
“We haven’t had sex.”
Julien resumed his seat, jaw slackened. He stared at her in silence for several moments. “Claire, sweetie, I know losing Liam…” He shook his head. “I remember…every minute. From the very first second he was diagnosed you were a pillar of strength. You never failed to stay on top of the latest and greatest treatment and pushed so hard to get him entered into clinical trials. You never made a single decision without weighing all the options and researching the hell out of it. You were his champion.”
Moisture collected in the corners of her eyes remembering those hellacious days. Seeing the love of her life fade away and his light-filled eyes, the cornflower blue orbs that had carried her through each day, grow dim and weary had changed her. She’d had to find an inner reserve of strength to be the wife and partner Liam needed. And when all medical intervention had proved fruitless and she’d had to say goodbye, only Julien had seen her fall apart.
His soft voice pulled her back to the present. “But, sweetie, this is for you, for your happiness. And you and I both know damn well that Liam wanted nothing more in this world than to see you happy.” He scooted to the edge of the
chair, stretched his arm across her desk and laid one hand on top of hers. “If he can’t be here to give that to you, there is nothing wrong with finding it with Luca.” He tapped his fingers against her knuckles three times before he pulled away and settled back in his seat again. “And let that man rock your world.”
Her lips turned down. “It’s not that, Julien.” She rolled her eyes and ran her hands down her face. “Well, it will always be that. I will always miss Liam and he will always be the only man I’ll ever love.” She shook her head. “But this… This isn’t me. It’s him. Luca. I-I was late. Six fucking minutes late. So, this is my punishment. Teasing, playing, touching but no…finishing.” She folded her arms across her desk and dropped her forehead onto them. “For six days—one for each minute I was late.”
She barely registered Julien’s sharp indrawn breath, lost in a mixture of perpetual sexual frustration and embarrassment. She did not, however, miss the quiet giggles that soon erupted into cackling laughter. She looked up and glared across her desk. “What exactly is so funny, you pretentious little queen?”
After several minutes, he swiped a tear from his eye and offered a few lingering chuckles. “Oh, Claire, sweetie, trust me. It’s worth it. So very, very worth it.”
She groaned, letting her head fall to her arms again. His reassurances meant nothing when the very idea of Luca Bernardi running his fingers across her hot flesh raced through her mind and amplified the need coursing through her body.
This is going to be a very long night.
* * * *
The brisk fall air was decidedly more cold tonight and Claire burst through the door of her house, grateful to feel the warmth against her icy skin. She cursed herself the entire walk home for not wearing something heavier than the white cardigan sweater she was gripping tightly. Her gaze landed on the fireplace as she passed by the living room, heading toward the kitchen, desperate for a hot cup of tea.
Liam would have built her a fire and taunted her perpetually cold state. He’d kiss her nose and rub her hands between his before wrapping her in a blanket and cradling her in front of the roaring blaze. She set the kettle on the burner with more force than necessary. Why hadn’t she ever paid attention and learned how to build one herself?
