by Anne Rainey
“No, definitely not.” Gracie shrugged. “I mean, with some men I suppose it could be weird or scary, but if Dean is anything like his brother, then he’ll make sure you’re enjoying it or he’ll stop.”
Catherine thought that over then said, “He did say that his pleasure comes from mine.”
“That’s pretty much the way Wade feels too. I mean, I don’t think it would be a turn-on for them if we weren’t into it too.”
“I guess when I think of it that way, what do I have to lose?” Catherine went for broke and sent another text. A few messages later, she tossed her phone back into her purse. “Done,” Catherine said, as excitement skittered through her.
When Gracie didn’t say anything, Catherine looked over at her and noticed the way she stared at the tile floor, as if working over a problem in her head.
“Gracie?” Catherine asked, curious what her sister was thinking about.
“You’re in love with him,” Gracie said as she turned her attention to her once more.
She hadn’t stated it as a question, but Catherine answered all the same. “Yes, and I have no idea how I’m going to be able to leave him.” It would break her heart if she never saw Dean again. He’d somehow very quickly become an extremely important part of her life. He’d stolen her heart, and Catherine was loath to take it back.
Gracie looked over at her, sympathy causing her bright green eyes to dim a little. “I think this is where I come up with some sort of wise advice for you, since you’re my little sister and all. Truth is, I’m not real experienced with these things. Matters of the heart always boggled me until Wade pushed his way into my life.”
“It’s okay. I guess if it’s meant to be then we’ll figure out something.”
“Does he feel the same way about you?”
Ah, the million dollar question. “He hasn’t said the words, but I know he cares. I know he doesn’t want me to go back to Georgia. And he trusts me now. Completely.”
“Finally!” Gracie said. “He’s over the whole ‘she must be a con artist’ thing then?”
“Oh, he’s definitely over it, just in time for me to head back home.” She snorted. “Thing is, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave either of you.”
Gracie’s face fell. “I’m not looking forward to you leaving either. I wish you lived here.”
Catherine reached over and took hold of Gracie’s hand. “Yeah, I’m beginning to wish that too, sis,” she said, her voice not quite steady any longer.
Gracie squeezed her hand and smiled over at her. “We’re going to figure something out, you’ll see. I’m not going to let you go, not now that we’ve finally found each other.”
Unable to speak, Catherine nodded. The rest of their salon visit was spent in quiet. Tomorrow she’d be going home. The thought made her feel hollow inside.
25
When Catherine arrived at Dean’s she knew immediately that something was different. The man in front of her seemed to be a total stranger. Gone was the sweet and gentle Dean, in his place was a man bent on possessing her in the most basic way possible. He stared at her the way she imagined a dom might stare at his sub, as if he owned her, body and soul.
Dean took her hand and brought her over to the couch. Once they were both seated next to each other, he said, “In your message you said you’re willing to submit to me. Does that still hold true?”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” she said, all at once anxious. “But I’m not terribly sure what is expected of me.”
Dean reached out and caressed her cheek. “You’re going to do as Mira did in the book,” he murmured. “I’ll be in control of how much pleasure you receive, as well as when and how you receive it. You’ll do as I say without question. Understood?”
Catherine’s libido woke right up at Dean’s explanation, but she still had concerns. “What if I can’t? I can be rather independent, Dean. And the whole calling you master thing is a bit much to expect of an independent woman.”
“Then we’ll stop.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter one way or the other to him. “I don’t want you uncomfortable, Catherine. The only thing I expect is for you to trust me to make you feel good.”
She tapped him on the nose. “And you expect me to call you master while you do it,” she reminded him.
He wagged his eyebrows. “The idea isn’t abhorrent to me, that’s for damn sure.”
Catherine grinned, but as she looked into his eyes, she sobered instantly. This was the moment. It was now or never. If she chose not to go through with it, would she regret it? That answer was obvious.
“I’ll try,” she said, her cheeks burning as the words came out of her mouth.
Dean leaned forward and kissed her gently. “Good girl,” he growled. “There’s one other thing I wanted to tell you before we go any further.”
“Oh?”
“I love you,” he blurted out as he pressed another kiss to her mouth. “I think I’ve loved you from the moment I saw your photo.”
Tears sprang to Catherine’s eyes. “I was so afraid,” she whispered, her throat suddenly feeling strangled.
Dean quirked a brow. “Afraid?”
“That I’d be the only one saying those three little words,” she admitted as she stared at him wondering if this was truly happening. If it was a dream, then it’d be cruel to wake her.
One corner of Dean’s lips curved upward. “Uh, you haven’t actually said them yet.”
She took his face in her hands and said, “I love you too. I don’t know how it happened and I have no clue how we’re going to make this work, but I love you.”
“We will make it work though,” he said, his voice brooking no argument, “because I’m not giving you up. No matter what happens, Catherine, you belong to me.” He looked far too serious when he added, “Remember that later.”
Catherine was confused, but when Dean stood and brought her with him, she forgot about everything else. All that mattered was that she was with Dean. It was their last night together, and she wanted it to be perfect.
“In the bedroom,” he ordered as he stood back and waited for her to precede him.
Catherine took a deep breath and headed toward the other end of the house. She could feel Dean’s gaze on her, and it fueled the inferno burning inside her. When Catherine reached his room, she turned and awaited Dean’s orders. Or rather, her master’s orders, she thought as the tension in the room seemed to grow.
Without saying a word, Dean stripped out of his clothes. His movements weren’t meant to be sexy, but Catherine took in the yummy show all the same. His strong chest, ripped abs, and the heavy weight between his muscular thighs. Every inch of him was superb, and Catherine practically drooled as she stared. When he slipped on a black silk robe, Catherine wanted to protest at not having full access to his scrumptious body.
The soft material should have made him seem less forbidding, but it didn’t. The hard body was still plenty lickable, just as the look in Dean’s brown eyes was as frightening as it was stimulating. His imposing manner made Catherine feel utterly insignificant in comparison. The wicked-looking leather riding crop he picked up off the bed and held loosely at his side seemed to emphasize his wild masculinity, and sent her nerves rioting.
She was the submissive and he the master; that was the game they were to play. She’d read the chapters of the book he’d indicated, and they’d turned her on. She knew the idea. Leave Catherine Michaels, website designer and good Southern girl, at the door. In here, she was required to experience pleasure, the kind that only Dean, as her master, could bring about.
Catherine wished she’d had more time to prepare herself, but she knew that if she had, she would’ve lost her nerve. Given time to think, she never would’ve said yes to the game. When she thought of it, Catherine was grateful she hadn’t let her brain talk her out of something she knew deep down she was going to enjoy.
Amazing, Catherine thought. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d been sittin
g in her parents’ safe and cozy house, going through mail and wondering when some handsome rogue was going to ride in and take her away from it all. Well, he had, more or less, and Catherine had fallen head over heels for him. So much so that she was ready to be his sex slave for a night.
“Take off your clothes.”
Dean’s quiet demand brought her back to the present and soothed her frazzled nerves a measure.
“I don’t think so, bud,” she said, as she recalled the way the scene had played out in the book he’d given her. “What makes you think I’m willing to undress for you?”
For a second, Catherine could see the surprise in Dean’s dark eyes. He quickly recovered and said, “I never repeat the commands.”
His voice didn’t rise above a hoarse whisper. It was clear he felt in total control, of his body and hers, Catherine realized.
“That’s too bad, because I have no intention of taking off my clothes.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her nose in the air, getting into the game a little more now.
Dean stepped forward, and instinctively Catherine stepped back. He smiled as he saw her retreat, but he never wavered. Too quickly, he stood close enough that her breasts touched his chest. The contact caused a shiver to run through her. In fear or anticipation? Suddenly she didn’t know. Maybe both. Who knew Catherine Michaels had a penchant for the kinkier side of sex?
Still, as she took in the fact she was alone with a man much more experienced at bedroom games, Catherine wondered if maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew. Maybe she should’ve told him no when he’d asked her to read the book. But if she had, then she would never know if she would like being at his mercy. Knowing beat not knowing every time.
The dark, rough stubble on Dean’s chin looked sexy as hell. His hair, a rich shade of espresso, swirled over his brow and just barely reached the collar of the black robe. His nose was a little crooked, she noticed, as if it’d been broken at some point, but somehow it only added to his appeal. His eyes . . . oh, wow. His eyes were devastatingly dark, and they were devouring her at the moment. No, Dean’s face and body wouldn’t win any GQ awards, he was too hard and rough for that, but she would bet her bottom dollar that women flocked to him in droves. He could have his pick. The predatory sort of alpha male no woman would ever want to tie herself to permanently but wouldn’t mind tumbling around with in the heat of the night. At least once. Had he played these games with them? Catherine swiftly scrubbed the thought from her mind, unwilling to go down that murky road.
His touch to her cheek stopped the crazy train of her thoughts, and she widened her gaze. Would he hurt her? Of course not. She felt bad for even thinking it. This is Dean, the man you’ve fallen in love with in five days flat.
“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmured. She wasn’t given a chance to respond as he took his large, callused hand on a journey down the length of her neck. He popped the first button on her blouse free, and Catherine’s body all but purred. She let him pop another before she remembered her role and promptly smacked his hand away. He merely stared at her, with those too intense eyes of his, and seemed to enjoy watching her squirm, if the wicked smile that quickly crossed his face was any clue.
“If you don’t do it, I will,” he growled. “And it can be gentle or . . . not so gentle. The choice is yours, always.”
He seemed to be attempting to tell her something in that moment, but Catherine couldn’t be sure. Without a second thought, she cursed at him, using a few words she’d never said before. Catherine felt her cheeks heat, and she covered her mouth when she realized what she’d said. Had she crossed a line?
His face hardened and his mouth thinned. Before she could blink, Dean grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Dean!” she yelled, forgetting the game a moment.
“No, you’re to call me master, remember?” He strode to the side of the bed, then put her back on her feet.
“What are you—” Catherine didn’t get a chance to finish the question as Dean turned her around to face the mattress. He bent her over, then moved to stand behind her. “I guess you want the not-so-gentle approach, huh?”
She didn’t know quite what he meant, until she felt her skirt being lifted. When Dean tore at her blue silk panties, Catherine froze. “No.”
Dean lowered over her and whispered into her ear, “Is that truly what you want? We’ll stop now and we’ll never have to open this door again. Your choice, Catherine. It’s always your choice.”
Did she want to stop before they’d even had a chance to start? Dean wouldn’t hurt her, not really. He wanted to bring her pleasure, he’d said. And she trusted him to keep his word. “No,” she decided. “I don’t want to stop.”
“Mmm, that’s my girl,” he said as he lifted off her. She heard Dean groan when he ripped the rest of her panties and they fell away from her body, revealing her bottom and the damp curls covering her mound. She felt his large hand again, only instead of caressing her face, it stroked her intimate flesh. As if he had the right. As if he owned her.
He smoothed his fingers up and then down, all the while holding her in place with his other hand. Not that she was struggling to break free. Wild horses couldn’t get her to move away from Dean’s caresses.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” he said, “not until you desire it. Not until you ask me nicely.”
Despite his promise, Catherine knew she was helpless to him. She’d never felt so powerless. “I won’t beg,” she said, unsure if she spoke the truth.
He tsked. “You need to learn obedience, little slave.”
It wasn’t what she had expected from him, but then his hand moved away and she stiffened. She didn’t have to wait long to feel the first sting of the riding crop. Catherine yelped, more out of shock than actual pain. Her head dropped to the bed as tears stung her eyes.
“Will you take your clothes off on your own, or do you require more encouragement?”
“No,” Catherine growled. Crap, why had she said that? She didn’t really want him to spank her . . . did she?
There was another smack from the soft leather against her bottom, this one not quite as hard as the first. She groaned and bit down hard onto her lower lip. Catherine had taken her clothes off for Dean more than once already, but for some insane reason she’d wanted to feel that delicious sting against her flesh.
“Will you do as you’re told?”
Catherine nodded, giving in for the first time since they’d began the naughty game.
Dean cursed, then tossed the riding crop to the other side of the room. It hit the blinds and fell to the floor.
All sane thought fled as Catherine felt his hard cock against her upturned bottom. It was such a brief touch that she thought maybe she’d imagined it. Slowly, he stepped away and let her stand up.
“The clothes,” he softly demanded.
Catherine looked down her body and started undoing the pearl buttons littering the front of her blouse. After she released the last one and the material hung open, Dean pushed it off her shoulders. It pooled into a silk heap on the floor, and she dared to look up at him. The feral look in his eyes was something to behold. He was severely aroused and staring at her white, lace-covered breasts as if she were a feast.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “You may go into the bathroom and change. When you’re finished, come into the kitchen.”
Catherine couldn’t believe Dean was going to let her walk off and change clothes. She’d been all prepared to be ravished. She had envisioned stripping out of the rest of her clothes, then Dean would take her down onto the bed and they’d make love. When she remembered the chapters she’d read, Catherine recalled how Mira’s master had instructed her to dress in a specific outfit. To wear her hair a certain way. It’d turned Catherine on something fierce when she’d read how excited Mira had gotten when her master had seen her and known she’d followed his instructions to the letter. Mira had received a very special reward f
or such good behavior. Catherine knew that if she were going to follow the game, then she would need to go all the way. No half measures.
As she started across the room, Catherine looked back at Dean. His eyes were fixated on her bottom, which probably bore red marks from the crop. The heat in his gaze scorched Catherine to her marrow.
Inside the bathroom, Catherine slowly took off her bra. She took her time and shored up her nerve, but when she felt moisture trickling down her thighs, she knew the truth. Dean could ask her nearly anything and she’d most likely say yes. She was that far gone over the man. Oh, she might’ve been somewhat scandalized when Dean had swatted her, but deep down in some secret part of her, Catherine had felt electrified at the first strike from the leather. Heck, it nearly made her come just thinking about it.
Catherine couldn’t afford to lose her composure though. She needed to remember the game. He was the master and she was the submissive. In the story, Mira had had almost more control over the game than her master, simply because if she weren’t so wiling, then the game would come to an end. Simple as that. Knowing that helped Catherine take off her skirt. When she recalled the feel of Dean’s hand as he’d touched her bottom, her clit swelled. Dean had been hugely aroused and ready to take her, she was sure of it.
Catherine forced erotic images of Dean’s rugged body out of her head and looked around the room. She saw a long, black nightgown hanging over the shower rod. She picked it up and looked it over. It was made of a stretchy mesh material, and it had clever patches of lace across the bosom and crotch area. She slipped it off the hanger and shimmied into it. The rich material slid over her body like a second skin. She looked into the freestanding cherrywood mirror in one corner of the room and was shocked by the sensual picture she presented.
“I cannot believe I’m going through with this,” she said to her reflection. She sighed and walked to the door. “Here goes nothing.”
When she entered the kitchen, Catherine immediately saw Dean seated at the table. His black robe had drifted open in the front, and she could see the curls littering his powerful chest, but the table hindered her view of the rest of him. God, she wanted him. A part of her ached to scrap the game in favor of making love. But as she looked into his eyes, she could see the gentle understanding in his gaze. He was all but waiting for her to back out. That single thought had her crossing the room.