Luca's Lessons

by Deana Birch

  Her mouth went dry, her mind racing with the possibilities—until the Domme stepped onto the stage, circling her submissive. All rational thought fled Claire’s mind.

  The woman—Claire guessed her to be about a decade older than her—clad in a deep red see-through blouse that showcased her dark lacy bra and a tight black leather skirt that barely covered her ass, tapped a riding crop against her calf as she stalked her prey with purpose. The submissive stood still, her hands placed at the back of her head and her legs parted, wavy brunette locks tumbling around her shoulders. She wore nothing other than a dazzling silver, jewel-encrusted collar.

  “Did you know your Mistress was bringing you to the club tonight?” The redhead’s heels clicked against the floor as she walked, punctuating her clipped questions.

  “Yes, Mistress.” Her voice was soft, but confident.

  A loud crack of the riding crop against the submissive’s ass made Claire jump slightly. Or it could have been Luca’s hand wandering beneath the plunging neckline of her dress to tease her already hardened nipple. He squeezed and placed his lips against her ear. “Oh, my little sotto, do you like watching another submissive being punished?”

  Claire licked her lips and swallowed, attempting to wet her parched throat. “Yes, Sir.”

  “And did you want to embarrass your Mistress by not shaving every part of your body?” The Domme on stage continued to interrogate her sub as Luca doggedly tortured his, blowing lightly on her neck as his other hand joined in the play and he twisted both nipples at the same time, making Claire whimper.

  “No, Mistress.” Her response was met with three strikes in rapid succession.

  The Domme snapped her fingers and an older male submissive, wearing only a collar that was identical to the young woman’s on stage and a tight red thong, delivered a vibrating wand into her hand before slinking away from the scene. “But you did. You disgraced your Mistress in front of her peers.”

  She held the wand against her submissive’s glistening pussy. The sub stood on her toes at the contact and let out a short yelp.

  Luca abandoned the nipples he’d teased until they were aching and Claire moaned at the loss. Then her moan dissolved into a purr of pleasure when his hand reappeared much lower, running along the line of her panties before disappearing beneath the soaking material. “Sotto, you are always ready for your Master, aren’t you?”

  She sucked in a breath. Every part of him was magic. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Please!” The little submissive’s voice was no longer soft and demure, screaming her need instead. “Please let me come, Mistress.”

  The redhead laughed, taking the wand away. “No, don’t be ridiculous.” This time the riding crop landed twice against her ass before colliding with the apex between her shaking thighs. The submissive whimpered and Claire couldn’t help but echo the sentiment as her own Dom continued to torment her aching core.

  “Sir, please.” Her voice was hoarse, and she tried to keep her tone low to avoid being heard by the dozens circulating around them.

  He skimmed her shoulder with his lips and pumped his fingers in and out of her unhurriedly. “No, sotto, you may not come until the little sub on stage does.”

  Claire swallowed the scream of desperation wanting to escape her lungs. Luca moved his hand to her ass, rotating the plug and causing her to moan.

  Three more times the Domme pressed the vibrating toy against her sub, teasing her to the point of tears before pulling away and spanking her again. Finally, the fourth time, she ran her hand down the younger girl’s sweat-slickened face. “Yes, my sweet sub, you may come now.”

  Her screams of ecstasy just before she collapsed on the stage easily covered the shuddering grunts Claire tried to muffle as she reached her own release, falling back against Luca as her muscles spasmed. He smoothed her dress back into place before cradling her against his chest. After a few moments, he turned her within the space of his arms and pressed his lips to her temple.

  “Upstairs now, sotto.”

  When they reached his suite, he went into what Claire began calling his Luca Aftercare Mode in her mind. He gently removed the plug the washed her with a warm cloth before he collected her onto his lap on the couch. Softly he whispered the affirmations her soul had come to crave, and all was right with her world.

  Until she removed the collar before she exited his room. Despite the smile she offered, a gaping maw formed in her heart at leaving the strip of leather behind.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Luca

  No. Nein. Non. And No. Luca Bernardi was not cooking dinner for his sub in training, who he had somehow invited, yet again, into his private living space on the pretense of asking her to a social function. This was not a date to ask Claire on a date. It was not.

  It was simply him checking in with Claire, giving her the liberty to speak her mind without the confines of him in his role as Master, thinking she had to please his every whim. Yes, he reminded himself as he chopped the basil with a chef’s precision, the quick taps echoing in his modern kitchen. A mid-training meeting to test the temperature. He wouldn’t even kiss her.

  No. That would be wrong—and a true shame. He still needed to remain in control, still needed to comfort the delicate side of her that might reel from the implications of what he would ask.

  He gathered the dark green herbs, added them to the garlic and pine nuts in his mixer and checked his watch. Plenty of time.

  When the buzzer sounded her arrival, the table was set with its clean white flatware, the wine had already been opened and steam rolled off the huge pot on his cooktop.

  As soon as she stepped into his apartment, he was at a loss. Kiss her? How? He’d been clear on the phone that it would be Luca and Claire, not Master and sotto. But why? Their roles were so perfectly designed for each other. Why did he insist on this…blur?

  But Claire, ever surprising—he should really start to assume she’d know what to do—walked straight over to him and kissed him on his cheek. The oddity made his eyelids flutter, but she passed by and dumped her bag on one barstool as she claimed the other.

  “Two things,” she said with a little bit of a slumped posture he would have corrected if he hadn’t told himself to lay off the Master to get them through the evening. Connecting with Claire was the missing link to their next step.

  She continued, “That smells wonderful, and may I please have a glass of wine?” Her fingers separated, and she brought them to her temples. The silk bow from her light blue blouse brushed the granite countertop as she massaged her head.

  Luca walked around the island, over to the dark wood table, poured the burgundy wine into the long-stemmed crystal glasses and brought them back to where Claire waited.

  “To you,” he said, and the clink resonated in the air.

  She sipped and softened.

  “I take it your day was challenging?”

  “Shitty. I had a really shitty day.”

  His disapproving eyebrow raised as he feathered the fresh pasta into the pot.

  “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like that language, but you said, ‘Claire’.” She stared him straight in the eyes then swallowed, perhaps a little less brave. “So I assume I’m not under scrutiny and won’t be subject to punishment.”

  “I never said that.”

  She smiled. The devious nature of it suited her too well. “In that case, I had a really fucking shitty day.” Her eyes flicked to the wine glass and she took a quick sip.

  Luca tried not to laugh, but her intentional defiance with its bold claim for wanting punishment was too powerful. But his grin ceased almost as soon as it had hit his face. Her outward obvious display of behavior poked a festering blemish he’d been trying to ignore.

  She wanted public discipline and he didn’t want to share her with anyone—a truth he’d known the second she’d suggested it and a notion he drank down with another sip of wine.

  With dinner served and her venting about how her banking partne
r was ready to take on a new client who she wanted to investigate more, he sat back to enjoy this Claire, the woman who had—with a husband dying at home—started a private bank. Luca knew it was no small feat. In fact, it was history-making, more impressive than raising a child. She really had been in service to all around her. And while prosperity, success and wealth were rewarding, her melting into him during their times on the floors below were answering a call inside her. A call he’d made. To her. Specifically.

  He smiled over at her. She’d eaten everything and dabbed the corners of her lips with her napkin.

  “What?” Claire asked. “Why are you looking so smug?”

  “Smug?” He chuckled. “Oh, you will pay for that.”

  She wet her lips and rubbed them together. A brat. She was turning into a full-on brat.

  “But not tonight.” He was careful not to say ‘sotto’. The wine may have loosened them up, but he would never put her welfare at risk.

  His phone rang, and with the hour of the evening, he knew he had to answer.

  “Excuse me. I need to get this.” He rose and, sure enough, his cousin’s name appeared on screen with the demand for FaceTime. With another apology to Claire and a swipe to the phone, his goddaughter’s stuttered sobs bounced off the walls of his apartment.

  Luca embarked on his calming ritual, the one he treasured because he knew he was good at it, and once he’d gotten the little princess to breathe normally, he sang her three rounds of Ninna Nanna. From the couch where he held the phone, he watched Claire silently clear the table and wipe it down.

  His reward for the song, a simple, “Ti amo, Cuca,” from the little girl with whom he shared a bond he could not explain but wouldn’t trade for anything, was worth the intimate glimpse of his life he’d shared with Claire.

  Gianna, her daughter pacified, returned to the phone, thanked him and reminded him to get a date for her event in two weeks.

  “I’m working on it,” he said before hanging up.

  Tasks finished, Claire stood with one arm wrapped around the other, kneading her shoulder.

  “My apologies. I can’t always take that call, so when I can, I do.” He placed the phone on the couch. “Will you come and sit with me?”

  With her eyes down, which brought a strange displeasure to Luca, Claire came over to the couch. The teasing brat from before had vanished and her energy read similar to an after-scene drop.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, and he detected the lie.

  But it was not the time to push her. Damn him and his ridiculous ‘Luca and Claire’ idea. And now he would have to see it to the finish, hoping they could escape his error without harm.

  “I’m sorry if tonight has been confusing for you.”

  She looked up at him and he relaxed a little. Maybe it was too much to know he had another side that wasn’t fully dedicated to her.

  “No, it’s fine. I mean, if you give me some leftovers for lunch, all will be forgiven.” Her tight smile tried to be playful and failed.

  “Is there something you need to talk about more than your day, cara?”

  “No.” She let out a breath and shook her head once. “In fact, you invited me here to talk and all you’ve done is listen. Thank you. It was nice to have a friend tonight.”

  Friend. Never in the history of amicable declarations had the label pricked more. But he supposed she was right. And, regretfully, he knew it was with a time limit. Any future Dom who claimed Claire would insist on severing all ties with Luca. And after the smarting of being labeled her friend, two more blows hit his gut. The first—the idea of their time coming to an end—was overpowered by the second— his sotto with any other Dom.

  He ran his fingers through his thick dark hair, scratched his scalp and combed his style back into place. When their eyes met again, Claire only had one open.

  “Are you okay?”

  Closer. He needed to be nearer to her. The zing of their connection would carry him through. He scooted over and took her hands.

  “I have something to ask you. At first, I thought nothing of it. Then, as I began to weigh the implications for you, I realized it might be too much. I don’t want you to do this to please me. This is not a test. There is no reward, no punishment. No right, no wrong.”

  “Okay…” Her gaze darted between his hands and face.

  “That’s why I asked you here as Claire, not my sotto.”

  Her simple nod told him to continue.

  “My family has a charity event in two weeks. I’d like for you to go with me.”

  “Oh,” she said and looked away.

  “It would be the first time you would be in public with another man. And we can insist we are friends, but people will talk.”

  “Right.”

  “If it’s too much, you should say no. As Claire, as sotto, either way. As I said, there is no wrong answer.”

  She turned back to him and stared. The energy they were meant to ride like a wave through the conversation stagnated.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why are you asking me?”

  A thousand reasons leaped from his chest. Her poise, status, wit? The fact that she was hands down the most intelligent woman he’d ever known and that made him proud that he could even touch her? The fact that she’d trusted him blindly? Flattered him with choosing him to guide her on her journey of discovery? Not to mention her astounding beauty.

  He stroked her cheek and her eyes closed as she pushed into his palm.

  In a whisper, one he hoped would cut the thick air, he said, “Because it’s you.”

  Then the lines he was sure he’d already crossed scribbled together and made child’s play of his boundaries.

  Luca leaned in and brushed his lips against Claire’s. Without a rejection, he kissed her again then paused. He tempted fate and did it again. A faded whimper encouraged him and lit the desire beneath his skin.

  He claimed her mouth and tugged her hair until her back was against the leather couch. Unleashed, he kissed deeper. She returned the kiss, and he rubbed his erection into the crook of her leg and hip.

  Luca nipped down her jaw, swirled her ear once with his tongue and begged, “Tell me to stop.”

  She moved her head so his mouth covered hers again. He twisted his fingers into hers, and his grind intensified.

  It was wrong. It was all wrong. His couch, the lack of control, so foreign. The rush and confusion of his helpless state had him drunk and adrift. She must stop him. She had the power.

  She arched below him, pushing her breasts into his chest.

  He moved his mouth again to her ear, clenched his jaw and pleaded, “Please… Claire… Tell me to stop.”

  Was it the brat in her or did she share the need? He hoped it was the latter. Either way, she remained mute and his purgatorial torture continued.

  With his left hand, he secured her wrists against the side of the couch and he made quick business of unbuttoning her gray fitted pants with the other. When he found dark lace below, more lines crossed, as if she’d worn the color on purpose or he was never supposed to find them.

  The question was quickly forgotten and replaced by the urge to watch her climax. He wasted no time, again out of character and out of body, and went straight for her clit.

  “Fuuuuck.” Her curse, another beautiful transgression to be remembered at a different time.

  “Come for me, cara.” The throaty command shocked him back to the moment.

  The glorious pinch of her forehead and the stiffening of her muscles was all he needed.

  With her body in tremors, he slid back to the present and his own need crashed aside.

  What have I done?

  He flowered her neck and chin with gentle kisses and released her arms from over her head. He lifted his traitorous hand from her underwear and hung his head over her shoulder.

  They stayed like that until her breath had completely settled.

  He berated himself for losing control. It was everything
he hated. His only saving grace was that he hadn’t taken it farther. God forbid he’d taken her to his bed.

  After a few more sweet kisses in the crux of her neck, he said. “I’m sorry. You should have stopped me.”

  She giggled.

  Giggled?

  “There was no chance of me stopping you,” she said. “That was basically a free orgasm. No way I was going to pass that up.”

  Brat.

  She was an official brat. He would never let her call him Luca again. Master needed to get back from his vacation and spank the giddy little blonde beneath him.

  “Besides”—Claire pushed Luca off her chest. He offered her his hand and pulled her up to eye level—“I knew you would stop yourself.”

  Her adorable confidence came with a wry grin.

  “Oh really? How can you be so sure?” he challenged with lifted eyebrows.

  She climbed into his lap and he didn’t know which end was up. Were they in her aftercare? On a date? Or maybe just generally confused?

  Her eyelids fell, and she traced his beard with her soft fingers.

  “I can be sure”—she licked her lips—“because it’s you.”

  With that, her head met his chest and the weight of her words penetrated his skin and sank into his heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Claire

  Claire arched a single eyebrow at the gray-haired man seated across from her. Thoughts of Luca evoking the exact same expression made her lips twitch with a repressed grin and briefly clouded her mind with confusion. Too often thoughts of Luca were seeping into her daily life and it was…disconcerting. Sex. This was simply sex and exploration.

  She cleared her throat and folded her hands on her desk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hauser. Your credentials are unverifiable at best, your references are vague and your history has some large holes in it.”

  His face turned a mottled shade of red that bordered on purple. “Are you calling me a liar, Ms. Favre?”

  “I don’t believe I said that word.” She inclined her head to her partner, seated beside him, choosing to not acknowledge the flushed cheeks that damned David for not being as thorough as he should have been. “I understand my partner is excited at the prospect of your business, but Steinmetz and Favre is my…baby. I need to do my due diligence to protect it.”