San Francisco: The Complete Trilogy

by Lila Dubois

  She finished stripping off her pants, and stood there, barefoot and bare-faced, wearing a tank top, workout bra, and a plain black thong.

  Her body language was vacillating between nervous and defiant. One second she had her arms crossed protectively over her stomach, the next they were straight at her sides, her hands balled into fists.

  He waited, but she didn’t turn around.

  There was no place for anger in this moment, yet the idea of someone else touching her made him see red. He would get the full story from her, but for now he could make an educated guess as to what had happened. She’d gone to a few public parties—he knew they existed, though he’d never been to one—and found someone to scene with. No two Doms approached a scene the same way, and if he’d been her BDSM first, then she might have had trouble adjusting to someone else’s style.

  That was what the reasonable, rational part of him was saying. The less reasonable, less rational part was insisting that she’d hated it because she was his, and therefore another Dom’s mastery would be an anathema to her.

  He waited, giving her time, but when it became clear that she was too conflicted to move on her own, he said, “Christiana, turn around.”

  Her body language calmed, and then she pivoted on the balls of her feet.

  James’s blood ran cold.

  Her ass and thighs were black and blue. She’d been beaten.

  He’d never left marks like that on a woman.

  “My God, Christiana.”

  He was surprised she was able to move, let alone sit in a car. Now the pills he’d watched her take made sense. She must be in incredible pain.

  James knelt, raised his hands, then hesitated. Her skin was mottled red and purple with patches of black and deep blue bruising. In a few places he could see semicircle shapes where the end of the slapper had hit her hard enough to break capillaries and leave blood-filled imprints.

  His jaw muscles started to ache, he was clenching his teeth together so tightly. He forced himself to open his mouth. His hands still hovered in the air, raised but not touching her. He put them down and gathered himself. He thought he was calm, but when he spoke his voice was a growl. “Who?”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Who?”

  “Who did this to you?”

  “How bad is it?” She craned her neck and canted her hips, then sucked in air. “No wonder it hurts.”

  “He beat you,” James growled.

  “I agreed to it,” she said quietly.

  “You agreed to be beaten black and blue?”

  “Well, no, but I agreed to a scene.”

  “How did you agree? You negotiated it? You had a contract?”

  “You and I didn’t do that.”

  “Because I thought you were an experienced player. It’s different.”

  Christiana turned to face him. Her fingers were curling and uncurling at her sides. “I shouldn’t have gone home with him.”

  “You were at someone’s private residence?”

  “Don’t yell at me,” she snapped.

  James surged to his feet. He wanted to rage and scream, yet at the same time he felt cold and scarily calm. “Christiana, I want you to look at me and tell me exactly what happened.”

  She shrugged and a tendril of hair escaped from her bun. “I went to a munch. This guy came up and introduced himself. I was feeling… I wasn’t in a good headspace, so I agreed to go to his place. We went in, and as soon as we did, he started acting all…” She waved one hand in a vague motion. “Dom-y. Dom-ish.”

  “How, precisely?”

  “He told me I couldn’t wear shoes.”

  Barefoot or heels was a common enough rule, and a way to easily identify submissives, but that didn’t make James feel any less angry.

  “We went up to his playroom.”

  “My God, what were you thinking?” He blurted the words out.

  “I was thinking about you!” Her lower lip trembled and she was breathing hard, those lovely breasts heaving. “I was imagining you at the thing in Luxembourg and it was killing me, so I decided to try and get over you. A rebound fling, but instead of a fling, a rebound scene.”

  “BDSM is inherently dangerous. You can’t treat it like a one-night stand.”

  “I was careful.”

  “Clearly not.”

  “I didn’t let him tie me up, I had a safe word, and he wasn’t… he wasn’t a bad guy. He was kind of a dick when he was being a Dom, but otherwise he was nice.”

  “Nice? Would you like me to take a photo of what he did to you so you can see it more clearly?”

  “No thanks. I’m good. I can feel it.”

  He couldn’t stand not touching her. He cupped the sides of her face, then leaned in so their foreheads touched. “Why did you let him keep hitting you?” he whispered. “That isn’t the result of ten, or even twenty, strikes.”

  Her arms slid around his waist, but she didn’t answer. There were fine tremors, too delicate to be a shiver, working their way up and down her body.

  It wasn’t anger that consumed him, he realized, but fear. He was terrified by what could have happened to her, and that fear was so sharp that it felt like anger.

  “I deserved it.”

  Her words were so quiet he almost didn’t hear them. “What was that?”

  “I deserved it. For what I did to you.”

  James’s heart stopped. “No,” he breathed. “No, no. Christiana, no.”

  “I did, though. I mean, that’s why you’re here, right?” She pulled back, and her cheeks were wet. “Maybe you can take a picture and send it to Lillian and tell her you all don’t have to worry about me.”

  He slashed a hand through the air. “I don’t care about that. About any of that. None of that matters now.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  It did. Nothing had changed about the situation, but now that he’d seen some other man’s brutal handiwork, what he was going to do about the situation had changed. Drastically.

  “Do you have ice?” he asked.

  “Some frozen peas.”

  He raised a brow.

  “I use frozen peas as ice packs. And a dishtowel.”

  He’d buy her a proper ice pack, the kind that came with insulating sleeves and elastic bands to hold them in place.

  He went into the kitchen, opening her freezer. There were some frozen meals, some dessert-like items, and a very large bag of frozen peas. He took it out, examining it. The thin plastic wouldn’t be good on her skin. He looked around, then snagged a small decorative towel off the handle of the rather dingy-looking oven. He wrapped the towel around the peas.

  “You need some ice on your bruises.” He was about to order her to lie face down on the couch, but forced himself not to. “If you lie down, I’ll put the ice on for you.”

  Christiana was watching him with an odd expression on her face. Rather than replying in words, she walked to the couch and lay down, with crossed ankles and propped on one arm. Narrow bands of light coming in the window made stripes of gold on her body.

  The bruises looked even worse now, and the peas clacked and crunched as he squeezed the bag. James lay the cold parcel lengthwise, covering her right ass cheek and upper thigh.

  “Cold,” she whispered.

  “It should help,” he said. “Did you ice it at all last night?”

  “I took a cold bath.”

  James took a seat on the coffee table, then leaned forward, brushing the lock of hair that had escaped her bun away from her face. “If I had known it was your first time, I would have done it differently.”

  “Then I’m glad you didn’t know, because it was perfect.”

  He kept stroking her hair, checking his watch periodically. When five minutes had passed, he moved the ice pack from one leg to the other, turning it over to make sure it was cold enough to help.

  He looked at her abused backside. It looked worse, but he knew that was because the cold made skin pink, so the few parts of her that mi
ght have been unmarked were now also flushed.

  “Is this something you want?” he asked.

  “This? Well, no, I don’t think I will do this again.” She spoke in that wry tone that was unique to her.

  “Not the barbarity you experienced last night, but submission. Do you want to submit? To have a Dom?”

  “I thought so.”

  “But what happened to you last night changed your mind.”

  “What happened last night made me realize that what I want is what you and I had.”

  He’d been looking pensively at her bruises, but now focused on her face.

  Her eyes widened and then she lowered her lids. “I mean the way you did it. I… I don’t know enough to know how to explain.” There was a pause, and then she spoke slowly, the slight hesitation between each word telling him that she was probably considering each one carefully. “When I submitted with you, it felt good. Even the things that hurt. Even the things that were scary. When you told me to do something, I never hesitated.”

  She’d hesitated, but it was interesting to hear that in her mind she thought she hadn’t.

  “When I was with Dino and he ordered me to do something, I… I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself.”

  Dino. The man’s name was Dino. Stupid name.

  “Being a Dominant is about more than just giving orders.”

  Christiana raised her lashes, looking at him again.

  “And being a submissive should be very safe, because there are certain rules that most people who practice adhere to. I’m not one for too many rules, but if you want to scene, as a sub, you should know the rules and demand they be followed.”

  “I made sure he knew my safe word, and I wouldn’t get naked.” She seemed defensive.

  The idea of Christiana naked for someone like this Dino had his back teeth aching once more.

  She was his. He’d claimed her the last time he was in this city, and her …circumstances… didn’t change that. This whole thing would be simpler if she was a member of the Orchid Club, but that wasn’t the case. Still, that didn’t mean he had to walk away.

  “I’d like to train you.”

  Christiana’s brows drew together. “Train me?”

  “Yes. If you want to be a submissive, you should be trained. I’ll teach you the rules so you can protect yourself, and so you’ll know what you want when it comes time to negotiate with others.”

  “You’ll train me… so I know how to be with other men.”

  No, damn it, he wanted her all to himself, but that wasn’t fair to her. He’d had an intuitive feeling that Christiana would be the sort of submissive who needed a collar and commitment—after all, that’s why he’d had the collar waiting in Luxembourg. Given the revelations of the past forty-eight hours he knew that he shouldn’t give her that. Any offer he made, even a “permanent” collar, would have an expiration date. Christiana would want, and deserve, better. Still, he’d asked her for honesty, and he’d give her the same.

  “What I said before still stands.” He stroked her hair. “I hate the idea of another man touching you, now more than ever. But I will train you, so you can keep yourself safe.”

  “You’ll have sex with me for my own good?” The joke was a bit forced, and he smiled quickly to show he understood she’d been teasing.

  “I’m a humanitarian.”

  “Billionaire humanitarian. Of course.”

  “Prince,” he said seriously. “Billionaire humanitarian prince.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t a prince!”

  “Technically, I’m not, but you’re fun when you’re outraged.”

  “Humph.” She pressed her lips together as if holding something in and then started to smile.

  It was an enchanting expression, and James couldn’t help but smile in return. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Not at all, your highness.”

  “I’m not really a prince,” he whispered, as if it were a secret. “My mother is a cousin to the prince, not sibling.”

  “Of course not, your excellency.”

  “I think that’s for an emperor.”

  “My apologies, your grace. Wait, that’s for a duke. What is the proper address for the son of the cousin of a prince?” Her smile lit up her whole face.

  Silence settled over them, and it was a more relaxed silence than they’d had before. He checked his watch, then lifted the ice, returning the package of peas to the freezer. When he came back, Christiana was sitting up, reclined on one hip, the heel of her hand braced on the couch cushion beside her.

  James resumed his seat on the coffee table so he was across from her. “I realize you might think that you have to agree to this, due to the situation around your presence at the San Francisco event, but that’s not the case. I’ll take care of that, either way, including having one of my lawyers present to help walk you through whatever you may have to sign.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m not going to refuse, since I know signing something I don’t understand is a terrible idea.”

  “It is. We’ll consider that point closed.”

  “On to the next agenda item?”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry, this is too much for you. Based on what you’ve said, you’ve had a long day and—”

  “Please don’t leave.”

  James had started to rise, but sank back down. There was something soft and vulnerable in her posture, but her gaze was unwavering. This was how she’d looked at him that first night—wary but interested.

  “What would training mean?”

  “You joked about sex, but there wouldn’t be any sex.”

  “No sex?”

  “No, many D/s relationships don’t have a sexual element.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’re disappointed.”

  “Yes. I’m not sure… I’m not sure I like submitting without the sex part.”

  He inclined his head. “Understandable, and it is that way for some people, but I’d like to clarify. I didn’t say no orgasms, no touching, no pleasure. Just no penetrative sex, beyond oral.”

  “Oh.”

  “It would be like what we did at the club.”

  He worked hard to make sure he didn’t show how very disagreeable he found this bargain. He’d been looking forward to sliding inside her, but it wouldn’t be fair to her to include that level of intimacy in her training.

  “When?” she asked.

  “We’d start now. I’d like to spend two weeks training.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean, two weeks?”

  “A fortnight, fourteen consecutive days, roughly half a month…”

  “Ha. Ha.” She rolled her eyes, but was smiling. “I have to work.”

  “Just reschedule your meetings.”

  “That’s… that’s not how jobs work. You show up, they pay you.”

  Oh. She was serious. “Could you take vacation?”

  “Maybe, but not two straight weeks with no notice.”

  James thought for a moment, considering his options. “Could you work half days?”

  “Partial vacation? I could probably do that for the first week, then take full vacation the week after.”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’m not sure… I’ll have to talk to my boss.”

  “Call him right now.”

  “I don’t have his number.”

  “What’s your boss’s name? I’ll get the number.”

  “What? How?”

  “The same way I found you.”

  “Yeah, we might need to talk about that…”

  “And we will.” Now that an agreement had been reached, he was itching to start. James pushed to his feet. “Are you able to handle another car ride?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To a hotel.”

  “Oh, right, you’re not staying here.”

  Had he just insulted her? “I’m sorry, I assumed you’d prefer a hotel, but if you’d feel more comfortable here�
�”

  “No, a hotel would be better. Let me pack.” She started to slide off the couch, and he reached out to help her rise.

  They were squeezed together, in the space between the couch and coffee table. James rested his hands on her waist. “I need you to say it,” he told her softly. “I need to hear you say you want this.”

  Want me.

  She licked her lips, then wrapped one arm around his neck, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. He let her do it—he wasn’t training her right now. She tasted sweet and bitter, like the best chocolate.

  She ended the kiss, just as she’d started it. “Please,” she whispered, “train me to submit to you.”

  After the rollercoaster of emotions of the past month and, in particular, the last twenty-four hours, Christiana had expected to feel conflicted about leaving with James, but she didn’t. She was calm, almost content. He held the gym bag she’d packed as she locked her apartment door. He offered her his arm, and she took it. They didn’t talk, but that didn’t feel strange or uncomfortable. It was an easy silence.

  There was a black town car waiting at the curb. The driver took her bag and put it in the trunk while James opened the door for her. She slid in, not bothering to hide her wince. She’d changed into a long maxi dress that was her go-to summer outfit for those times she needed to look cute, but given the cool Bay Area temperatures, she’d layered a long black cardigan on top of the red-and-white floral-print dress. She was well aware that her outfit looked cheap in comparison to James’s shirt and slacks, but strangely, she didn’t care. Now that James knew the truth about her, she didn’t have to worry about looking like something she wasn’t.

  James climbed in the driver’s side rear door, his attention on her. “Sitting like that must be painful.”

  “It’s not too bad.”

  “I’m sorry they didn’t have a limo on short notice.”

  “I’m sure they are, too—I heard how much you offered them over the phone.”

  One brow went up. “Does that bother you?”

  “No.”

  “Honesty, please, Christiana.”

  “It doesn’t bother me. More like it… puzzles me.”

  “What part of it puzzles you?”