Abby glared at Xavier when he sat down beside her. “Why would you do that to someone?”
Not answering, he glanced around, assessing what was going on. His gaze returned to her. “That was punishment, Abby.”
“But I thought…” She would far rather be hurt and get it over with than be put on a board and left to suffer. With a sign. Humiliated. “I thought submissives were whipped or spanked. Not something like that. It was horrible.”
“That’s called riding the wooden pony. For some subs, their Doms’ disapproval is punishment enough. Some need pain. However, Harmonie enjoys being whipped. And she’s also rewarded by receiving the complete attention of a Dom.” He motioned to the hanging board. “This left her isolated and embarrassed, essentially a painful time-out.”
His logic didn’t alleviate the shaking inside Abby, the feeling she’d been wrong about him on some basic level. She felt as if she’d opened the door to a friend and found Freddy Krueger instead.
“What you occasionally see in a public place is known as funishment, and it’s a type of play. A sub acts out and gets punished, but in a way they both enjoy. It’s harmless as long as they acknowledge it’s for fun—and the Dominant likes that behavior. Most don’t. Subs usually know how far they can go and won’t cross the line from cute sassiness into true disobedience or disrespect, since the last thing a true submissive wants is to embarrass her Dom.” He drank some of her water and set the bottle back on the table. “Harmonie’s behavior wasn’t sassy or cute.”
“So you hurt her.”
“I did, and hopefully enough that she won’t repeat the offense.” His eyes were level…and shadowed. She’d started to learn to read his face. He hadn’t enjoyed inflicting pain on Harmonie.
Relief swept over Abby. A wave of fatigue followed, and she sagged in the chair.
Xavier’s eyes narrowed. “You’re exhausted. Did you drive here?”
“Taxi.” She yawned. “I need to go home.”
“Yes. You do.”
As she scrubbed her palms over her face and tried to remember where she’d left her clothes, Xavier talked with someone, then rose and scooped her out of her chair.
“Hey!”
“If you wiggle, I’ll drop you.”
She froze. The floor was a long, long way down, and despite her ample padding, a fall would really hurt.
He took a couple of steps before his lips quirked. “I don’t mind if you breathe, pet. In fact, I recommend it.”
Oh. No wonder her ears were ringing. She hauled in a breath and heard him laugh.
* * * *
Xavier glanced at Abby. After tucking her into his sports car, he’d tilted back the seat, and she’d dropped off two seconds after giving him her home address. The sight of her sleeping, as trusting as a child, squeezed something deep inside him.
Following the GPS directions, he reached a quiet residential area of Mill Valley. The neighborhood was mostly two-story clapboard houses built in the nineteen hundreds. Hers had been converted to a duplex, he realized when he helped her up the walk. Taking the key from her clumsy fingers, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. The scents of flowers, cleaning solution, and a rather pungent odor greeted him.
The light revealed a room with delicate floral wallpaper and the graceful curves of French furniture. A gilded mirror hung over a whitewashed fireplace with an eccentric array of antique candlesticks on the mantel. A worn needlepoint carpet covered part of the hardwood floor. The ambience felt oddly like a school friend’s home in the south of France.
Mouse-like squeaks came from the far corner. “What have you got in here?”
“Puppies. I foster puppies for the animal shelter. They have a better chance of survival if not exposed to the germs there, especially since they don’t get their mother’s milk.” She yawned. “I have to feed them now.”
Of all the endings to the night, this wasn’t one he could have foreseen. Huffing a laugh, he crossed the room. In a children’s plastic pool, five round balls of fur stared up at him with hopeful black eyes. They were barely the size of his fist. “Where’s their food?”
“The legendary Master Xavier is going to feed puppies?”
She really was adorable. “I have a feeling you’ll fall asleep halfway through.”
“I’m fine.” Her defiant shake of the head didn’t succeed in making her look more awake.
“Of course you are.” With a snort of amusement, Xavier pushed her toward the high-arched opening to a dining area, then into the kitchen. Creamy yellow cupboards, stuccoed walls on three sides with a faux stone wall behind the oven. Dark granite counters and shuttered windows. Painted tile backdrops. Woven baskets and bright ceramics. “That was France. This is Italy.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And I’m betting your private school was in Europe.”
“Clever girl.” She kept surprising him. One moment she was filled with confidence, sharp as a new-forged blade, and then she’d change…like now.
“Um.” She looked at him uncertainly. “Would you like some wine?”
“Thank you, pet, but no. I don’t drink.” His mother’s people were Native American, but it was his pompous French father— “My father was an alcoholic.”
“Oh.” Her look of sympathy wasn’t unexpected, but the compassionate pat on his hand was. “It’s hard when parents aren’t up to the job.” Moving sluggishly, she mixed a tiny amount of thin gruel. “Can you give them this while I get the bottles ready?”
“Certainly.” In the living room, he set the dish in the wading pool, then moved it when a puppy tried to walk into it. “Drink it,” he advised.
The pup planted its butt, stared up, and whined in an obvious give me a bottle demand. Scooping up the ball of fur, Xavier studied the serious expression. Dark eyes, silky, curling hair, folded-over ears. “What breed?”
“We think they’re mostly spaniel and poodle. Someone left them in a box outside the shelter a week or so ago.” Abby knelt down, surrounding herself with small bottles of milk.
When he took one, she gave him a startled look as if she still didn’t believe he’d help.
She couldn’t have stopped him. After settling the pup on his knee, he offered it the nipple, then grinned. The little beast definitely knew how to suck.
Abby picked up a black fuzz ball and gave it a quick kiss before starting the feeding.
Xavier smiled as one puppy stuck its nose in the bowl, realized the mush was edible, but couldn’t figure out how to proceed. Its first endeavor resulted in a sneezing fit. “Still on the bottle, I see.”
“I offer a little to get their stomachs ready, but it’ll be another week or more before they’re really weaned.” She smiled. “My life will quiet down.”
Xavier’s puppy was sucking strongly, the tiny stomach rounding out. The waiting three bounced around, filled with energy. In contrast Abby was fading fast. She’d slump, then jerk upright as she fought off sleep, obviously determined to see her charges fed.
Someone had a big heart.
His puppy finished at the same time as hers. Xavier set them both in the pen and took Abby’s bottle from unresisting fingers. “To bed with you. I’ll finish the rest.”
He pulled her to her feet, led her up the stairs and into her bedroom. Not a European decorating scheme this time. The lighting came from sconces on the wall. Richly textured fabric in a dark red draped the high, arched windows. The decor was both exotic and intriguing. Oriental carpets covered the hardwood floors. Her bed was a masterpiece of Moroccan carving, giving him tantalizing ideas of silk bondage.
Xavier glanced at the woman beside him, delightfully fair in the dark sultriness of the room. “You have harem-girl fantasies?”
“Mmm. Kidnapped. Carried off. Desert tent.”
How nice. He did enjoy abduction games—and she probably wouldn’t even remember she’d spoken.
She hardly noticed when he stripped her down, set her glasses on the bedside table, and tucked her into the bed. He ruffle
d her silky hair and went downstairs to finish feeding the fur balls.
Chapter Nine
Abby woke and yawned. Dawn lit her curtains, shadowing her bedroom. The sheets had created a cozy nest around her naked body. Naked? How had that happened?
Xavier had driven her home. Then… I fed the puppies. No, she’d only fed one. She frowned as she inhaled the fragrance of sandalwood from the trunk at the foot of the bed, a hint of shampoo from the bathroom, and…Xavier’s exotic, musky aftershave. He must have undressed her and tucked her in.
She bit her lip, remembering the previous night at the club. Take your underwear off. Tell me this. Lie back. She’d let him tell her what to do as if she couldn’t think for herself. He’d touched her how he wanted, made her climax. What kind of a weak person was he turning her into?
This isn’t me… Or maybe it was. Each night it had been easier to trust him and let him take the reins. And when he did, it gave her the feeling of being lodged solidly in her own body—a body she liked.
On the other hand, when she’d worn that vibrator, her whole world had seemed to shatter, leaving her alone and lost. She shivered.
“You’re awake.” Slow, deep voice.
With a gasp she sat straight up. Xavier was stretched out on top of the covers. “Malum! What are you doing here?”
“It’s not a bad thing, pet.” Making a grumbling sound, he propped his head on his hand. “You were barely conscious, and I was worried.” Although his hair was loose, he still wore his clothing. A night’s growth of beard shadowed his jaw, and the dim light turned his face dark and forbidding. Yet when he curled his fingers around her wrist, the warmth of his palm and the careful power were disconcertingly reassuring. “What we did at the club shouldn’t have affected you so much.”
He had stayed. “My problem was just a lack of sleep. I had a younger friend who needed a shoulder to cry on the night before, and the puppies wake up early.” Speaking of waking, she vaguely remembered him shaking her and asking her questions during the night, making sure she was all right. Was that part of his appeal? That his sense of responsibility and caring equaled the darker aspects of control and command? “Anyway, thank you.” I think. She’d never dreamed she would end up with Master Xavier in her bed.
As if he’d heard her worries, his grin flashed in his shadowy face. “Relax, fluff. I won’t jump you.”
Or tie me up and do horrible—interesting—things to me? She swallowed against a dry mouth. “Well, that’s reassuring.”
His eyes narrowed, and he pulled her down beside him. Propped up on one elbow, he studied her as he traced his fingers along her jaw. His touch was assessing. “Then again, I could stay.”
Let him decide.
“Do you want me to stay, Abby?”
“Why do you always ask me these questions? I thought you were supposed to be in charge and everything.”
A smile lifted his lips. “In the beginning, until a Dom learns to interpret a submissive’s body language, it’s safer to ask. In addition, you need to learn to read your own desires, so you can express them openly to both of us.”
I hate reasonable answers. Especially when she felt as if he wanted her to open a vein and bleed emotions. His gaze stayed on her, level and patient, and she…really wanted what he could give her. The body has spoken. “Please, stay.”
“Good girl.” His approval washed over her, patching up the holes in her defenses. “In that case, I’ll be happy to take complete control.” The molten heat in his eyes sent a shiver along her nerve endings. “You may say, ‘yes, sir,’ now,” he prompted.
Complete control. The words came out shaky. “Yes, sir.”
“Little fluff, I’m not going to hurt you”—he leaned forward and kissed her, possessing her lips, her mouth, then drew back an inch to finish—“much.”
Anxiety and anticipation sizzled through her.
Rising over her, he stripped her covers away and straddled her. As his groin pressed against her, she realized with a twinge of concern that she was naked and he wasn’t.
“I—” She tried to cover herself, but he caught her wrists.
“You were without a top at the club, pet.”
“That was different.” He hadn’t looked at her this way, with a man’s desire in his eyes. Warmth flowed over her body as if she were wrapped in a heating pad.
After a moment he released her. Unable to help herself, she flattened her hands over her breasts.
When he laid his hands over hers, she had a second of confusion. Then he used his fingers to bend hers, guiding her to pinch her nipples.
No. No way. She tried to yank her hands away.
He was obviously trying to keep a straight face. “If you cover up what is mine to play with, you’ll do the playing for me.” He paused. “Would you rather I do the work?”
She nodded frantically.
After allowing her to snatch her hands away, he ran his wide palms over her, easily cupping her large breasts. His low hum of appreciation stroked her ego as wonderfully as his fingers did her nipples.
He closed his lips over hers again. His hands didn’t stop, and her breasts swelled until the skin felt tight. He released her lips and nipped her jaw.
His black hair spilled over the rippling muscles of his shoulders, tempting her unbearably. She reached for him. Hesitated. “Um. Can I touch you?”
“Good girl. I’m pleased you thought to ask.” He wrapped her fingers around the headboard carvings. “Keep them here. If you obey, I’ll permit your touch in a bit.” His tone dropped to a menacing warning, his slight accent stronger. “Don’t let go, Abigail. No matter what I do.”
Her insides were turning into a lake of lava. “Yes, sir.” But what was he going to do?
He teased his tongue along the rim of her ear and kissed the hollow below it. Goose bumps ran down her arms.
Sitting back, he studied her, his gaze sensuous as it lingered on her face, her breasts, her groin. “You’re a beautiful woman, Abby.”
Sure she was.
He chuckled. “Such a cynical look.” When he lightly pinched one nipple, heat arrowed straight to her clit. “It’s not wise to disagree with the person topping you.”
“No, sir.”
He was laughing at her, as if he knew how badly she was starting to ache. And that pinch… Her nipples were peaked, begging for his touch.
He bent and licked over one before puffing a breath over it. Hot. Cold. He did the same to the other, alternating back and forth, until they throbbed.
“Hmm.” To her dismay, he moved up to kiss her again, and her arms shook with the need to push him back. Move him down. Her hips squirmed under his.
“No, pet. Stay still.” His hand gripped her hair, holding her and restraining her as his kiss turned rougher, and he took what he wanted, deep and wet. The feeling of being held that way was…so erotic. His teeth closed on her chin, trapping her with the not quite painful pressure as he pinched her nipples.
A bite to her neck, a harder one on the long muscle of her shoulder. The pain of it flared, then simmered like spice added to a soup. His hair brushed over her skin, a cool touch in contrast to the burning inside her. He slid his tongue along her left collarbone as he moved down. Each nip created a tiny pain, and he was driving her mad with an urgent hunger. Her breasts ached as he inched lower.
“I like your almond lotion,” he murmured. “You smell edible.” His teeth pinched the outside of her left breast before the pull of his mouth on the nipple made her moan. He released her to lightly bite the outside again, slightly farther down, then returned to the distended tip.
Back and forth, he circled her breast, alternating a stinging nip with sucking on the peak, creating a circumference of tiny pains with a center that ached more with each second.
When he’d finished the circle, he lifted his head. She tensed, anticipating the next bite on the outside, but his lips paused over her areola…paused… Then his teeth lightly closed right on the peak.
She felt a quick pain before searing pleasure blasted through her, and she half screamed, half moaned.
He moved to her other breast.
Not again. She couldn’t bear it. She grabbed his shoulders.
He closed powerful fingers over her wrists, pinning her arms to the bed over her head. “Where did I tell you to put your hands?”
“Xavier.” She whimpered, half floating in a fog of sexual need.
“Abigail.” The sharpness of his icy voice cut like a whip.
“My liege. Please, I…” Begging wouldn’t work. He was in charge. “I’m sorry.”
When he opened his grip, she closed her fingers around the carvings on the headboard. The wood felt cool and satiny under her fingertips.
He waited for a moment before nodding approval. “You’d have an easier time if I tied you, pet, but we haven’t reached that level of trust yet. Not when you’re at home with no one else around. You’ll have to restrain yourself.” He stroked her lips with a calloused fingertip. “Remember our discussion of funishment?”
She nodded.
“If you let go, you’ll discover how it works. And at least one of us will think it’s fun.”
Oh no, not going to happen. When her fingers tightened on the spools, amusement lit his eyes.
He nipped the outside of her right breast. Her left nipple still stung from his teeth, and he pinched it lightly with his fingers, prolonging the throbbing. His lips closed and pulled over the right peak. And he slowly circled her right breast as he had the left, alternating light bites with sucking.
With each repetition, her body grew stiffer in anticipation.
He completed the circle and lifted his head. Paused.
Oh sweet heavens. Her breathing stopped.
His teeth closed on her right nipple and tightened slowly, like breast clamps. Pain streaked through her, but the aching tip blossomed with pleasure as well. His tongue swirled, adding a wet heat, and he bit again. Harder.
“Ow— Ooooh, God, wait.” The pain erupted into a shocking pleasure that filled her body. Her hands opened, releasing the spools. She arched toward him, needing more. Less.
My Liege of Dark Haven Page 10