Open

by Elyzabeth M. VaLey

  “Don’t call me Sir.” She huffed. “What kind of Dom says that, Henry?”

  The cat glanced at her briefly, large blue eyes blinking once as if the question she’d just asked was stupid.

  “You don’t need to be so condescending, all right? I get it. A guy who wants to earn my respect and do more than just spank me is going to treat me right. I don’t know, Henry. Isn’t it enough with just us? Besides, Marcus got all Domly on me.”

  Gabi groaned.

  “Only after I baited him,” she murmured.

  Her phone chimed, and her stomach summersaulted. She reached for the device. Her chest constricted at the sight of the message.

  Good night, kitten.

  “I should just block him and pretend he didn’t exist.”

  Her fingers hovered over the screen. Did she want to? Did she want to sever a connection that had just barely started? There was attraction between them. He was good-looking with his green eyes, dirty blond hair, thick beard, and strong jaw. Not to mention the muscled body. She wondered if he had tats.

  “Probably. Fuck.”

  This situation could only go one of three ways: mild sex. Hot sex. Absolutely nothing.

  “Maybe it’s time, Gabi.”

  Her therapist would be so proud. She quickly typed the words.

  Good night.

  She sent the message and stared at it. It wasn’t complete. The word dangled on the tip of her tongue.

  Sir.

  Her heart jumped to her throat palpitating like a bird’s after fleeing from a predator. The word stared back at her. Strangely right. Appropriate. Would he reply? There really was nothing else for him to say, was there? He’d wished her a good night, and she’d responded. Where did the conversation go from here? She dug her fingers in her hair.

  Nothing except silence. Her screen became black. He probably didn’t even know how to deal with her and he’d just been all talk. The gadget chimed, and words popped up on the screen.

  You please me, kitten. Get some sleep. We’ll speak tomorrow.

  Her heart hammered, and a smile burst on her face. It’d been too long since she’d been told something like that. She’d played with several men for the past few years, but the encounters had been so impersonal, she hadn’t realized how much she missed the praise until now. Perhaps, she was getting herself into a mess, but two things were certain: if she’d escaped Antonio’s inferno she could do anything, and two, being with Marcus would definitely be fun.

  “Time for bed, Henry. Sir said so.”

  Laughing, she headed to her bedroom.

  Chapter Three

  Marcus stared at the old photograph on the computer screen. A lean man with cropped brown hair and a smug smile stood next to two women. One, young, with natural blonde hair and a million-dollar grin. She was dressed skimpily and clung to the man like a lifeline. Becky. She’d been drunk that day and wasn’t thoroughly aware of what was going on. After the raid, he’d heard she’d been sent to rehab several states away, but he wasn’t sure what had become of her. On the other side of the man, was a tall woman with a cute, reddish-gold bob. She was too thin and wore a short jean skirt and a crop top. The man held her wrist possessively. The smile on her lips was forced, and her eyes were downcast as if she were afraid to look up.

  Gabi.

  Marcus had taken the photograph himself, one month before she walked out on Antonio. By that time, he had already decided to do something to help her get out of there.

  Her appearance had changed in the last eight years. Her features had softened. She’d gained weight, become curvier, gentler. Sexier. She’d allowed her hair to grow back to its natural color, a rich brown, and her eyes were vivid, sparkling with a desire to fight he’d rarely seen back then. Her nose piercing was gone, and he’d noticed she’d modified the tattoos on her back, but Gabi’s essence hadn’t changed. She was strong, had always been, or else she wouldn’t have withstood Antonio’s abuse. All she had needed back then was a little push to rediscover how wonderful she truly was. Now, she knew it, but she lived on the surface, afraid to dig deeper. He’d change that soon enough. Taking his phone, he reread her text message.

  Good night, Sir.

  Simple, yet full of meaning. There’d been hesitation on her part, but she’d taken the plunge. She was curious to see if he could deliver what he’d promised. He would. And when he did, he’d make sure she never called another man Sir.

  ****

  A sliver of light came through the blinds, creating patches on the grey rug. Marcus reached for his phone. It was almost seven AM. He lay on his back, wondering if he should take care of his morning wood. Fuck. He wished Gabi were here to do it. He wrapped his hand around his girth, lazily pumping. She’d suck him off and he’d bury his head between her folds, bringing her to orgasm at least twice before releasing her. He groaned. He could picture it, almost taste it. His hand flew over his dick. She’d take all of him in. Saliva would drip on his balls and she’d gag, but she wouldn’t let go. He’d penetrate her with his tongue, and she’d grind her clit on his chin. Her cries echoed in his head. Sir.

  Marcus swore, his cum filling his hand.

  “Bloody hell,” he murmured. Getting out of bed, he dashed to the bathroom to clean himself up. After taking a quick shower, he checked the time. He wasn’t sure she’d be up already, but at least it wasn’t the crack of dawn anymore.

  Good morning, kitten. Did you have sweet dreams?

  The response to his text came quicker than he expected.

  Good morning, Sir. Uneventful.

  I dreamt of you on your knees. Bound. At my mercy. Mouth open, begging me to fuck you.

  That’s your fantasy, not mine.

  Marcus laughed. Feisty kitten.

  Soon enough that’ll be your fantasy too. Drinks tonight. I’ll go pick you up at eight.

  I’d rather meet you at the bar.

  Marcus frowned. His fingertips wavered over the keyboard. He understood her reasoning, even though it didn’t please him. Still, experience had taught him to bide his time, and he wasn’t about to ruin something wonderful because he was hasty.

  Hotel Plaza. I’ll meet you at the bar at eight o’clock. Wear a dress and stockings.

  She took longer than he would have liked to respond, but when she did, he smiled.

  See you there, Sir.

  Chapter Four

  Gabi tapped her heel against the floor. She’d been tempted to wear jeans and a sweater just to see what he would do, but a bigger part of her wanted to be called a good girl again. She’d kind of lied to him. Although, she hadn’t dreamed about him, she’d entertained a full-blown fantasy—vibrator in hand—before falling asleep. It had left her even more on edge, and she’d slept terribly. The machine was great for relief, but it was no substitute for a Dom’s touch and voice.

  She crossed her legs and adjusted the hem of her dress. Perhaps, the little black thing hadn’t been the best idea. She hadn’t worn it in ages, and she’d forgotten how much it hiked up her leg. Feeling someone’s gaze on her, she looked up. The hotel bar was busy, but a man with a receding hairline and an ill-fitting suit sat at a nearby table leering at her. She shuddered and grabbed her purse to pull out her phone and check the time. She’d arrived a few minutes early, and she was surprised to see it was exactly eight o’clock. The sound of a chair scraping again the floor caught her attention. The stranger from across the room had stood up. She stiffened.

  “Don’t worry about him, kitten. I’m right here.” Marcus appeared out of seemingly nowhere. He stood in front of her, effectively blocking her view. Leaning forward, he planted a kiss on her cheek, lingering and imprinting an intimacy that had her yearning for more kisses.

  “Marcus,” she said. “Where have you come from?”

  “I’ve been here a while, kitten,” he said. “Enjoying your attempts to lower your dress until that sorry ass decided to make a move. I don’t share what’s mine,” he grumbled.

  “I’m not yours,”
she said on reflex.

  Marcus chuckled.

  “If it makes you feel better to say so.” He shrugged. “You look stunning by the way,” he said, taking the stool next to hers.

  “Thank you,” she replied, ignoring the pleasurable warmth in her stomach. “You look pretty good yourself.”

  Thanks,” he said. “How was your day?” he asked.

  “Good,” she replied. “I did some housework, watched a bit of TV, some reading, jewelry making,” she chattered.

  “Jewelry making?” His eyebrows rose.

  Gabi laughed. “It’s my hobby. I like to play with beads and metal to create unique pieces.”

  “I would love to see them.”

  “Oh, I can show you.” She pulled out her phone and found the folder with some of her latest creations. Marcus scooted closer, his head almost touching hers, his masculine fragrance wafting up her nose and creating a primal hunger, which at the same time contrasted sharply with the sensation of ease permeating their conversation. Speaking with Marcus was like chatting with a longtime friend. He commented on her designs, choice of colors, and asked questions, showing a genuine interest in what she did in her free time.

  “Do you sell them?”

  “I have the occasional buyer online.” She shrugged. “It’s some nice extra cash, but nothing I can live on.”

  “So what’s your day job?”

  “I’m a medical receptionist at a center for abused women.”

  “Wow. That must be tough.”

  “Some days are,” she admitted. “What about you?” she asked, unwilling to go into depth about her job.

  “I own a gym. I worked in security when I was younger and did some wrestling as well, but finally settled here a few years ago after, um, a bad breakup. I decided to throw myself into the deep end and start my own business.”

  “I apologize for the wait. What would you like to drink?” The waiter, a slender man with inquisitive dark eyes and an eagle nose, gazed at them from behind the bar. Marcus placed his order and glanced at her.

  “No alcohol,” he said sternly.

  A surge of excitement washed over her. How was it possible for them to be speaking about opals and amethysts one second and the next have her pussy clenching with desire?

  “Iced tea, please.”

  They remained in silence while the server brought their drinks.

  “Are we going to play?” she asked as soon as he was out of earshot.

  Marcus shook his head.

  “Not today. Not the way you think.”

  “I thought you wanted to play.” Disappointed, she crossed her arms across her chest. “Why else did you ask me to dress in this way if not?”

  “I asked you to dress like this because it pleases me. Kitten, I don’t intend to give you a quick spanking and then send you home to masturbate on your own. This is a process, and I promise you that by the time we’re done, you’re going to beg me to fuck you.”

  She rolled her eyes. His hand landed hard on her thigh, and she jumped. His fingers squeezed her flesh. Fresh darts of arousal careened to her already wet pussy.

  “Tell me, kitten, what are you into?”

  “Everything,” she sighed, enjoying the pressure of his digits and wishing he’d move further up.

  “Be more specific, kitten.” He pinched the inside of her thigh, and she squealed. Marcus soothed the spot by caressing it with the pad of his thumb.

  “Impact play: spankings, floggings, caning, paddling, you name it.”

  “All right. How about bondage?” he asked.

  Her nose wrinkled.

  Marcus smiled. “So we’re not into ‘everything’ after all.”

  Gabi rolled her eyes. “I guess not. I don’t like being constrained, unless there’s impact play like you saw with the Saint Andrew’s cross. It’s bondage for the sake of a bigger purpose.”

  “I see. How about mentally constrained?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Marcus leaned in, his eyes bore into hers, conveying a thousand messages that only served for her to want more.

  “If I told you not to move, would you stay in place?” he asked softly. “If I ran my fingertips across your back and grabbed your ass, all while telling you to be very still, would you be able to do it? Would you be able to control the impulse to buck your hips if I asked you to?”

  Marcus’s index finger grazed her sex, and she jerked. Liquid arousal dampened her panties further. She licked her lips.

  “I suppose,” she finally said. “I could try.”

  “I couldn’t ask for more,” he said. Marcus took a sip of his drink and glanced at her. “How about humiliation?”

  Gabi stiffened. Humiliation. Antonio had enjoyed humiliating her. For a while, she’d enjoyed it as well, but one day the boundaries blurred and disappeared. She was no longer his naughty submissive or his slutty girl during the height of passion. She became a slut, a bitch, a whore. All the time. She tried to explain to him it hurt her feelings, but he didn’t care. Antonio had stepped all over her, and she’d almost lost her identity. He hadn’t cherished her or cared for her at all. She became an object, devoid of emotions. It took her years to break from that toxic world and realize there was nothing wrong with wanting to be verbally humiliated as long as there was consent and trust between her and her partner.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Physical?”

  “Only verbal and nothing too extreme.” She hesitated. “Can I ask you something?” she said tentatively.

  “Of course,” Marcus said, eyes glimmering. “We’re both part of this relationship, kitten. I call the shots but not without your consent. You’ve heard of RACK?”

  “Risk Aware Consensual Kink,” she stated.

  “Exactly. I’m not sure how you worked with your other partners, but with me, things will be different.”

  “I can see that.”

  Marcus’s lips quirked. “What did you want to ask me?”

  She furrowed her brow and took a sip of her drink. She’d wanted to ask him what he knew about BDSM, but him bringing up RACK was enough for her. She didn’t remember the last time she’d gone on a date and much less asked a Dom anything. The men she played with at the club didn’t want to know more about her and vice-versa. It was too complicated. She didn’t want complex. She wanted something quick and fun, and there was only one way to ensure that.

  “What kind of play did you have in mind?” she purred, squeezing his forearm.

  Marcus’s gaze dropped to her hand, then rose to her face. His grin became predatory.

  “The kind that will have you wetter and hornier, kitten.”

  Her pulse skipped. Her pussy spasmed, and her body tingled with awareness. Leaning forward, she pressed her mouth against his ear.

  “What would you like me to do, Sir?”

  Chapter Five

  Marcus’s cock twitched. Sir. Her sultry eyes filled with lust. He knew her game. She was aiming to top from the bottom, take control of their date and get away with what she wanted: something quick and impersonal. She was in for a surprise.

  “Go to the bathroom and take off your panties.”

  Her eyes widened. “Excuse me.”

  “You heard me, kitten.”

  “What’s the purpose of that?”

  Marcus leaned forward, splaying his palms against the bar.

  “Are you going to question everything I ask you to do?” he asked darkly.

  Gabi wrung her hands.

  “Maybe,” she admitted.

  Marcus bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t get mad when she was being honest.

  “First, because it pleases me,” he explained. “Second, to see if you’re able to follow a simple command. Third, to make you hornier than you already are. Satisfied?” he growled.

  “Yes, Sir.” Gabi stood. Picking up her purse, she veered to face him. “Thank you.” Her cheeks reddened, and she hurried away, leaving him with the desire to crush her against his body a
nd kiss her senseless.

  Marcus ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted Gabi more than anything he’d ever desired in life. If he could go back in time, he would return to eight years ago and whisk her away from Antonio without a second thought. He sighed and sipped at his drink. Such a thing was impossible. All he had left was the possibility of today and the future. He wouldn’t disappoint. He mentally reviewed Gabi’s answers. No to bondage, yes to impact play and light humiliation. When she’d admitted to still enjoying the verbal play, he thought his heart would jump out of his chest. It must not have been easy for her to confess such a thing.

  The clap of her shoes alerted him of her presence. His heart constricted, and he couldn’t help the surge of emotion which washed over him. His. Gabi was his girl. She might not know it yet, but she would soon.

  “Done,” she said, sitting back down.

  “Give it to me,” he said.

  “What?”

  “The underwear.”

  “It’s in my purse.”

  He extended his arm, and she promptly handed him the bag. Fishing inside it, he pulled out the black lace thong. Rubbing it with his thumb and forefinger, he found what he was looking for. His dick hardened almost to the point of pain.

  “You’re wet,” he said. Like a deer caught in headlights. “Don’t deny it, kitten. Those panties were soaked.”

  “Well, yes, I’m wet, Sir. Hard not to be around you,” she said with a cheeky smile.

  “If I were any other man I’d be salivating right now and offering to take you upstairs to fuck. Lucky for you, I know the game you’re playing, and it’s not going to work.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, lowering her gaze.

  Marcus laughed. He pressed three of his fingertips across her knee. She glanced at him expectantly. He eased the pressure. “Not giving into your demands to have sex and get over it, is what has you dripping, kitten. Tell me, what would you do if I reached between your legs right now?” His fingers tiptoed across her flesh.