by Lynda Aicher
He took her mouth next, plundering the hot depths with a fierceness that almost scared him. She met him though, pressing into his touch, his mouth, his tongue with the same frantic urgency that was controlling him. He dug his fingers into her hair and angled her head so he could plunge deeper, take more.
Shit. He had to slow down. Not hurt her. He jerked away, panting, and held her back when she tried to follow. “Stop, Quinn.”
She froze, her eyes going wide. “What? Why?”
She didn’t get it. Not everything, and he needed her to. He saw so much love and trust in the depths of her eyes that it was almost terrifying. It would be, if it was anyone but her. “I don’t want hurt you.”
“You won’t,” she insisted. “I told you, I feel fine.”
Physically maybe, but what about emotionally? He wouldn’t take the risk. “I’ll give up my clients. I don’t need them. I have you, that’s enough.”
“No,” she cried, rearing back and smacking his chest before she vaulted off his lap and stumbled back. The glare she raked over him was filled with the frustration that had her hands clenching at her sides and lines creasing her brow.
Her sudden anger stunned him and brought on his own. “What the hell do you want then?” He was giving her everything and now she didn’t want it? What the fuck? “I don’t get it.” Will I ever? Shit.
She scowled at him before tugging her shirt back on. Standing before him, she was a little fireball of fury who was still hot as hell. She whipped her hair out from beneath the shirt and stormed away before spinning around and stomping back to him.
“Didn’t you listen to a thing I said?” She flung her hand up in an exasperated exclamation to go with the tone of her voice.
“Yes, Quinn,” he said very evenly, refusing to fight with her over this. “I won’t hurt you by being with other subs. And I know it hurt you.”
She fisted her hair before whipping her hands down. She took a measured breath then looked at him again. “You like doing public Scenes. They give you something, right? And tell me the truth.”
His jaw worked as he debated the value of doing that, but there didn’t seem to be a right answer. In the end he gave her what she asked for, the truth. “Yes.”
“I don’t,” she said, and his heart almost shattered. No, that was wrong. He’d be fine if he had her. He didn’t need the other. She stepped up and cupped his face as she settled back into his lap. “I can’t do public Scenes. It’s too risky for me. But I understand that it feeds something in you. Your clients can give you that.”
“And what about you? What do you get?”
“You.” Her smile was so pure and sincere it was hard to doubt her. “I get you.” Her eyes shimmered and she blinked a few times, swallowing. “I’m a submissive. I’m finally able to understand and accept that I’ve always been one. I’m getting stronger, thanks to you. But I don’t want to do this on my own. Yes, we need to figure out how this meshes with our lives, but just like our jobs, it’s a part of who we are. We’ll figure it out without giving it up.”
He swallowed down the rising objection and dared to trust her words. Trust her. But there were concessions he could give her. Promise her. “Public only then. With a select few.”
Her soft kiss was the binding on his pledge. “Thank you.”
“You have to be honest with me, though.” He pulled her in until she was a breath away and tried to express the importance of his words. “If your feelings change at any point, you have to tell me.”
“I will.”
“Promise me, okay?” He had to hear it.
“If you promise me the same thing.”
“I’d promise you the moon if it made you happy.”
“But I don’t want the moon.” She pressed her lips to his, the softness a counter to the fire of a moment ago. “I only want you.”
And she had him. “You own my heart, Quinn. I’m yours.” All in—there was no other way.
Epilogue
Marcus brought the cane down on the bared bottom of the submissive, the hissing snap cracking through the air an instant before the man jerked forward in his bonds. The chains clanked and the frame shook as the submissive let out a high wail before going slack against the beams of the St. Andrew’s cross. Sweat gleamed on the skin of both men, their breathing heavy and deep.
Quinn couldn’t take her eyes off them. She stood to the side, out of the way but able to see the entire Scene. Like the very first time she’d watched Marcus perform, she was in awe. The command, attention and care he gave to the sub reminded her of all the things she loved about him.
A series of bright red lines crossed the span of the man’s bottom. Six, to be exact. Six more than she had a desire to receive.
It’d taken Marcus and her a while and many discussions to get to this point. The collar hugged her neck just tight enough that she knew it was there. She wrapped the leash around her fist until the tension pulled on the loop and stretched the leather across her nape. It was her small way of reminding herself that he was hers.
Marcus stepped behind the man and smoothed his hand over the marks. The man flinched away but stilled when Marcus tightened his grip around the curve of the man’s cheek. A hiss leaked out of the sub’s lips, his muscles tensing once again.
“Does that feel good?” Marcus growled into the man’s ear.
“Yes, sir.” The reply was weak but clear.
Quinn took a deep breath and pressed her free hand over her abdomen as she struggled to sooth the burn that was simmering within her. Once she’d gotten over the trust issue, she’d been able to freely acknowledge that watching Marcus top a submissive really turned her on. Especially male submissives. There was something about two men exchanging power without weakness that had her wetting her lips and shuffling her feet in an attempt to relieve the ache that was growing in her core.
Marcus reached around and released the cock and ball ring he’d put on the man at the start of the Scene. The sub’s low groan was countered by Marcus’s quick grip on his shaft and sharp, “Don’t come.”
“Yes...sir,” the sub gritted out.
Hot.
Her reaction was a surprising benefit to Marcus keeping his job as a professional Dom. Once they’d both figured that out, he’d transitioned to primarily male clients. The terms that were working for them included public only, no sex—oral or penetration—and only after she’d met the submissive.
The small, controlling side of her that was slowly emerging wanted every submissive to understand that getting Marcus was a privilege she had the ability to revoke. That was her power as his submissive that they both agreed to. She understood that not all Dom/sub relationships worked that way, but for them, it did.
Marcus released the cuffs binding the man to the cross then led him a few steps away to take a seat in an armless chair before arranging the man over his lap. He held the sub’s wrists behind his back with one hand and landed a hard smack to the man’s tender ass with the other. The man went lax, his body wrapping around Marcus’s legs with each additional hit.
It was easy for Quinn to spot the drifting, blissed-out look on the submissive’s face as one that signaled his descent into subspace. She’d had the chance to experience that pleasant zone on a frequent basis now that they were living together. The more she trusted him, the more he gave her. It was amazing.
They’d returned to Minneapolis the day after Christmas to a whirlwind of questions and congratulations and parental introductions. A month later, they were still adjusting, but things had settled down. They’d found a doctor here and thankfully, things were still okay with the baby. They were looking for a house, but for now they’d settled comfortably into the loft upstairs.
Her mother was still adapting to Quinn being gone, but she was finally accepting that the change was permanent. The last time they’d talked, she’d mentioned a job as a Child Advocate with one of the major production studios. Her mother would kick butt in that role.
The low
grunt of the sub’s release brought her back to the Scene. The sub’s head was thrown back, his throat exposed as he ejaculated onto the mat. Marcus released his hold on the man’s dick and the sub sagged into to a lifeless heap on Marcus’s lap.
Quinn caught her breath and held it for a long moment. The tenderness in Marcus’s touch and expression as he rubbed the man’s back always got to her. The look wasn’t sexual, but appreciative. It was the gratitude he gave every sub that twisted another loop of love around her heart for him.
Marcus lifted his gaze to Quinn, and there she saw the fire that was just for her. She bit her lip and gave him a wink—their small signal that she was good. It eased his worry and reassured her that he cared enough to be concerned about how she felt.
She tipped her head and motioned toward the employee exit. At his nod, she turned away and headed toward the door. He’d be a while longer with that sub, tending to the man’s aftercare. In the meantime, she was going to get ready.
Sex was always explosive between them after Marcus finished a Scene. It was another little benefit they’d discovered together. All the energy and desire he built up during a Scene came pouring out in the most delicious way when he got his hands on her. And the more he had his hands on her the better.
She was finding herself a bit more each day. Marcus was helping with that by simply being there for her. He was reminding her how to have fun. How to live without worrying that her every move was being watched and recorded.
Eventually she’d return to acting, but for now she was enjoying the freedom that came with being anonymous and the simplicity of loving Marcus.
Being just Quinn was really, really nice.
* * * * *
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About the Author
Lynda Aicher has always loved to read. It’s a simple fact that has been true since she discovered the words of Judy Blume at the age of ten. After years of weekly travel as a consultant implementing computer software for global companies, she ended her nomadic lifestyle to raise her two children.
Now, her imagination is her only limitation on where she can go and her writing lets her escape from the daily duties of being a mom, wife, chauffeur, scheduler, cook, teacher, volunteer, cleaner and mediator. If writing wasn’t a priority, it wouldn’t get done.
To learn more about Lynda, you can find her at:
www.lyndaaicher.com
www.facebook.com/lyndaaicherauthor
www.twitter.com/lyndaaicher
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ISBN: 9781426896293
Copyright © 2013 by Lynda Aicher
Edited by Rhonda Helms
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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