by Maya Banks
Except that to her those pictures were personal and were meant to be shared only between her and her husband. It didn’t have to make sense to anyone but her.
Tate’s expression grew serious. He cupped her chin, rubbing his thumb gently down her jawline.
“I would never betray your trust,” he said gravely. “Those pictures are for me and only me. I showed the man—James—one of my favorite pictures of you from our vacation in the Caribbean. The one of you in that sexy sundress smiling brightly enough to outshine the sun. There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t be on his knees to have a woman like you. And that certainly includes me. You’re mine,” he said in a thoroughly satisfied voice.
She smiled then, feeling awful for having questioned him in the first place. It was baffling to her, this new turn in their relationship, where she seemed to question him with growing frequency.
She’d never questioned him in the past. She always, without fail, abided by his decisions. Accepted without reservation whatever he chose. So why now? She bit into her bottom lip, knowing exactly why she had begun to question him, even if she hadn’t openly acknowledged it until now. She couldn’t quite shake the sense of betrayal even though Tate was going above and beyond to make amends. Maybe these things just took time. They’d both already admitted that it would take more than a weekend to set to rights two years of unhappiness and the fear of their marriage dissolving.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
His look of surprise took her aback. “What are you sorry for, baby?”
“For questioning you. For not trusting you.”
His expression softened and warmth entered his eyes. He put his arms around her and rubbed up and down her back in a soothing pattern.
“I’d say you have reason for both,” he admitted. “I haven’t acted like someone you could trust or not question over the last two years. It’s me who should be apologizing to you, not the other way around.”
“You already have. More than enough times,” she said firmly. “And my apology still stands. I gave you my trust before we were even married. I gave you my love and then my submission and then my life when I married you. I’ll never regret any of those choices, Tate. I want you to know that. As far as I’m concerned the past is in the past. We’ve moved beyond that point and I have complete faith in you that you’ll keep your promise of putting me first from now on.”
“You have the most loving, generous heart,” he said in a voice thick with emotion. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness and I damn sure don’t deserve your trust after I’ve failed you at every turn.”
She put her fingers to his lips to hush him before he could continue.
“I’d much rather hear about this night of decadence you’ve promised me,” she said with a wicked grin. “Or am I not allowed to know?”
He smiled back at her, the shadows erased from his eyes. This moment felt so much like old times. Her sitting on his lap and them just talking, teasing and just . . . being. It felt utterly perfect.
“All I will tell you is that I will personally choose what you wear to The House and, just a warning, it’s going to be positively sinful. At least for the time you’re wearing it, that is,” he said in a deliciously evil tone that sent a rush of anticipation flooding through her veins.
“Except for the shoes,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I plan to find out where Kylie got her killer fuck-me shoes because I’m buying you a pair just like them so that when I fuck you the only thing you’ll be wearing are those shoes. It will give my ‘helpers’ plenty of leverage to hold you down so you’re utterly helpless to my every whim.”
Helpers? Her mind was ablaze trying to imagine such a scenario. In all of the fantasies they’d played out at The House over the years, apart from Tate and whatever man he involved to fulfill both hers and Tate’s decadence, that was where it ended. Tate and whomever he deemed deserving to put his hands on what Tate considered his property. And now he had used helper in the plural. Helpers. Meaning more than one!
“Uh, Tate, I know I just apologized for questioning or trusting you, but can you tell me a little more about this trip to The House? You mentioned helpers, meaning more than one, and you specifically singled out James as the one who’d flog and mark my skin until it’s rosy and evenly marked so that when you take me you see those marks and while you didn’t administer them yourself, they were still put there by your command. I see the satisfaction that brings you.”
Tate nodded.
“But adding more than this guy James? What exactly are you planning for me—us—that night, or is all that top secret and I find out when I get there?”
“If you’re afraid or unsure then we don’t go. Period. There is no way in hell I’d ever force something on you that you were not completely on board with, and with me, seeing me, knowing in your heart that I am the only true Dominant for you, I think you’ll be more than satisfied with the plans for the evening.”
“You’re such a tease,” she groaned. “I want to know more! I’m dying to know all the dirty details.”
He chuckled but evidently decided to give her more information. Or perhaps it would only end up being a tease fest where he whipped her up into an even more frantic state of anticipation.
The one word that had never escaped her lips, much less her mind, was fear. She was never afraid when Tate was there, even if a few feet away. He may have a desk job but the man was completely serious when it came to his workouts. She teased him all the time about being the most gorgeous, well-dressed fashion plate to go to the office and talk to clients on the phone all day.
Oh there was more to it. She was making light of his job. She knew he had many important dinners, lunches, after- work drinks, calls at all hours of the night. And in the beginning she hadn’t minded. Each accomplishment made her prouder and prouder. But somehow along the way his job—his struggle after his partner bailed—had faltered at first and so Tate had thrown all of his time and energy into making it a solid success. Endless and countless lunches, dinners, golfing. Meetings for drinks. It had become all-consuming.
“I will lead you into the common room by your collar.”
Her hand automatically went to her throat where the delicate jeweled collar rested.
“I’m having another specially made just for that night, and it will be ready this week. I’ll pick it up when I also go pick up what you’ll be wearing to the event. And those killer fuck-me shoes. Those are at the top of the list.
“But every man in The House that night will know you belong to me. The leash is also being fashioned, yet another thing to do on my shopping trip. Well, and there’s the lingerie I had to get my girl because just imagining you with that outfit the damn mannequin was wearing gave me a hard-on that lasted thirty fucking minutes!”
Chessy could hold back her laughter no longer. She shook against him, her giggles muffled by his shirt.
But Tate was still being serious. “I have the perfect earrings and necklace. It is my intention to drape you in jewels and nothing else. Every eye in the common room will be on you. You’ll wear your hair down. I love your curls. And you may as well just forgo makeup because I guarantee, before the night is over, there will be none left.”
He said the last with a smirk that told her he’d be getting as much pleasure from their role-playing as she would.
One of his favorite scenarios was to have another man fuck her ass while Tate fucked her mouth. And yeah, that would definitely ruin a makeup job, and if such hedonistic pleasure awaited her she was more than happy to forgo being fully made up for the evening.
Her thoughts turned dreamy again. So far she’d remembered all the pleasure Tate had received as if she were a plaything, brought out for boys’ enjoyment and then put away with no regard for her whatsoever. And it certainly wasn’t true.
Tate, even though he was a forceful Dom, was also exceedingly gentle and tender, often interpreting her body signals before she even knew what he
r body was telling her. He always seemed to know exactly what she wanted more of. Or less of. Or what made her wild with want and need. He was so in tune with her body. Hell, he was in tune with her damn thoughts most of the time. But then her friends had always told her she was as transparent as glass.
When she was happy she shone. Brought light and warmth into any room. But when she was unhappy? It was equally evident. All the light that surrounded her on a seemingly endless basis just burned out. Deep shadows had formed underneath her eyes and she was already getting lines across her brow from worrying and stressing.
“I don’t need to know any more,” she said warmly. “I do trust you, Tate. My curiosity always gets the better of me. You know that. I’m more than happy to wait. I don’t want to ruin the surprise for you since it’s obvious you’ve spent most of the day today preparing for this outing.”
“And how do you feel about going, Chess? Be straight with me. Does it make you scared or nervous?”
She immediately shook her head. “As long as you’re there with me the entire time. That the commands come from you. As long as I know you’re in complete control, then yes, absolutely. I want to go. I’m not scared or nervous. Not when I have you.”
“God I love you,” he breathed into her mouth. “And I promise that our night at The House will be a night you’ll never forget.”
FOURTEEN
CHESSY’S impending night out at The House was met with completely opposite reactions from Joss and Kylie. Kylie tried very hard to hide her confusion and the fact that she didn’t understand the lifestyle her two best friends had chosen.
And while Joss was, in reality, a newcomer to the submissive lifestyle, it had been a want, a desperate need that went years back. It was the one thing her husband hadn’t ever been able to give to her and Joss loved him too much to ever pressure him. So her need had gone unrequited. Until Dash. Her dead husband’s best friend.
Now, Joss understood completely Chessy’s excitement over a night at The House. It was a place Joss and Dash had frequented before Joss learned of her pregnancy. Dash would never do anything that could cause possible harm to their child, not that he’d ever cause Joss to come to any harm either, but he guided her with a fiercely protective dominance. Something Tate and Dash had shared in theory but not in practice over the last two years.
But Chessy and Tate were picking up the pieces and both were deeply committed to repairing their fragile relationship. It was all she could ask for. Just for Tate to reevaluate and recommit himself to her. Even her own commitment was being renewed. Stronger. More everlasting this time so that nothing would ever come between them again.
The women were enjoying a later than usual lunch the day before Chessy and Tate’s upcoming evening at The House and Chessy was brimming with hope and optimism. Not that she’d ever look to another man to somehow fill a gap in her marriage to Tate. Just the opposite. The nights at The House had occurred frequently in the first few years of their marriage. It was something they embraced—enjoyed—and it brought them even closer. For some couples such a thing would certainly drive a wedge between them. Jealousy always had the potential to overshadow all else when another person was introduced into a relationship. But she, or rather Tate, had never exhibited any signs of jealousy—but then Chessy had never had to contend with another woman in the picture. She was honest enough with herself to acknowledge she would likely be insanely jealous were another woman to touch Tate, but then Tate had never even entertained the idea, to Chessy’s knowledge. He seemed content with their current arrangement. In fact, he seemed to derive as much pleasure from the act as Chessy did herself. It was no coincidence in her mind that when they stopped exploring the darker side of their desires, the rift had begun.
Any time a marriage lost both an emotional and a physical connection it was no longer about a kink they both enjoyed. It had become a matter of survival. The survival of their love and their marriage.
As soon as the waiter delivered their entrees and they were afforded complete privacy, Chessy asked the question she was sure was also burning a hole in Joss’s brain. Chessy reached for Kylie’s hand and squeezed.
“How did your first counseling session with Jensen go?”
Kylie’s expression became shuttered and she briefly glanced away. Then, as if realizing that Joss and Chessy were her best friends and confidantes, she looked back up, vulnerability shining in her eyes.
Chessy tightened her hold on Kylie’s hand while Joss reached for Kylie’s other.
“You don’t have to tell us,” Joss said in a low voice. “The last thing we want is for you to be uncomfortable. We were both worried and we knew since it was only the first time that things may not have gone as well as you’d like. So say as much or as little as you’re okay with. Chessy and I love you. You’re our sister in our hearts. We just want you to know that you can always talk to us about anything and we’d never betray your confidence. Even to Dash or Tate.”
As Joss spoke, she glanced Chessy’s way as if gauging whether she was speaking for the both of them and if Chessy was in agreement with all Joss had to say.
Chessy nodded immediately. “Absolutely. We just want you to know we love you and we worry about you. You and Joss are my best friends in the world, and God knows you’ve both nursed me through my frequent misery and bouts of self-pity.”
Kylie gave them a watery smile, which prompted Joss to shove a table napkin into the hand Joss had only just let go. It was a well-known fact in the group that Kylie hated crying. Especially in public. It would mortify her if she knew someone saw her losing control in a room full of people.
Kylie accepted the napkin and wiped hastily at her face. “At least I didn’t wear makeup today,” she said ruefully.
“You’re too beautiful to need makeup,” Joss said firmly.
Chessy smiled her agreement.
Kylie laughed, her tears replaced by mirth. “You’re both so full of shit but I love you for it.” Then her expression sobered once more and she breathed out a sigh. “The therapy session went okay. I mean I guess as well as it could go considering that for me it was akin to bloodletting. The therapist wants to see us individually first before she sees us together. Monday is Jensen’s turn and then I suppose the therapist will compare notes on our insanity and try to put the puzzle pieces together or try to figure out how two equally fucked-up people ever belong in a relationship together.”
Chessy scowled. “That better be sarcasm or your twisted sense of humor coming out because you and Jensen are perfect for one another.”
Kylie smiled. “I may have inserted a little sarcasm.”
Joss snorted. “Ya think? Come on. Give us the real scoop. Unless of course it’s too personal and you’d rather not get into it.”
Kylie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I think we’ve established that I seem to have no personal boundaries when it comes to the two of you. Just recently, as I recall, we were shitfaced drunk in Joss’s living room and I was blurting out what a stupid-head Jensen was and then I revealed my grand seduction plan of making love to him and then tying him to the bed. If I survived telling you guys all of that I think a visit to my therapist pales in comparison.”
Chessy and Joss both dissolved into laughter.
“She does have a point,” Chessy admitted. “Even Dash was privy to that particular outburst. But it was a brilliant plan. I have to give you that.”
Kylie groaned and briefly covered her face with her hands. “Did you have to remind me that Dash was there to witness my drunken humiliation?”
“Hey, it worked, did it not?” Joss demanded. “I’d say you pulled that plan off spectacularly.”
A satisfied smile curved Kylie’s lips upward, effectively erasing all the earlier conflicting emotions that had shone in her eyes.
“Yeah, it worked,” Kylie said in a faraway tone that told both the other women she was taking an X-rated trip down memory lane.
Then she shook her head as if coming
down from the clouds, her expression growing somber once more.
“We discussed my childhood and my inability—or rather my inability until I met Jensen—to form relationships with men. And the fact that in particular I feared dominant, strong men. She made me feel . . . normal.”
The last was said in a bewildered tone as if Kylie had never until now considered herself remotely normal.
“Sweetie, of course you’re normal,” Chessy defended. “After what you endured at your father’s hands I’d say you wouldn’t be normal if that didn’t affect you well into your adult life. Think about it. The one man in a little girl’s life she’s supposed to be able to trust above all others, the one who is supposed to protect her at all costs, betrayed you horribly. He abused you horribly. No woman—I don’t care if she’s Super Woman—could escape that kind of horror unscathed.”
“Besides, you’ve merely been discerning when it comes to men,” Joss said with conviction. “That doesn’t make you abnormal. That makes you picky, and all women should be picky when it comes to choosing the man they’ll trust and give their hearts to. Can you imagine your life without Jensen now? What if you’d hooked up with some other guy? You wouldn’t have what you have now, so fuck normal.”
Chessy’s and Kylie’s mouths both dropped open in unison. Then Chessy burst into laughter until tears streaked down her cheeks. She coughed and wheezed into her napkin while Joss gave them both looks of bewilderment.
“Well, that’s one way to put it,” Kylie said ruefully. “And it mirrors what Jensen himself has said. I believe his exact words were ‘fuck normal.’”
“I always knew he was a smart man,” Joss said in a smug tone that matched her expression.
“It’s just so funny to hear you dropping F-bombs,” Chessy said, still laughing. “Not that you haven’t before. It’s just not your normal MO.”
Joss rolled her eyes. “I swear you two seem to think I’m some Miss Goody Two Shoes.”
“Oh no, we became well aware that you’re the closet bad girl of this group,” Kylie said dryly. “I might have considered you Little Miss Sunshine at one time, but that was before you told us at lunch that you were going to The House and wanted to hook up with a dominant man. I think it’s safe to say that we certainly reevaluated any assumptions we’d made about you in the past.”
Joss’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink and Kylie and Chessy both burst into laughter.
“Busted!” Chessy crowed.
Kylie turned her gaze in Chessy’s direction in a swift change in topic, once more putting the focus on Chessy, and likely relieved to have it off herself. But that was just Kylie. She’d certainly come a long way but it didn’t mean she liked being thrust into the spotlight. Even by her best friends.
“So, uhm, you’ve sort of said in the past what it is you and Tate do at The House, but I’ll be honest, I mostly tuned you out. I know that sounds horrible, but my virgin ears could only take so much!”
“Oh for the love of God,” Joss muttered. “So says a woman who tied her boyfriend to her bed. The only difference here is that our husbands tie us to the bed.”
Chessy smothered her laughter with her hand. “Busted again, sweetie. No response to that one, huh.”
“So are you going to spill or not?” Kylie persisted, purposely ignoring their needling. “I guess today is a day for morbid curiosity because I confess, I can’t wrap my brain around Tate actually sharing you with another man. No matter what your past difficulties may have been, he is and always has been forbiddingly possessive of you.”
Chessy was determined not to show any self-consciousness in this discussion. No, it wasn’t a conversation she’d have with just anyone, but Kylie and Joss weren’t just anyone. They were her best friends. Her sisters, as Joss had so eloquently put it. And she wasn’t in the least ashamed of her and Tate’s sexual preferences.
“It sounds more complicated than it is,” Chessy said ruefully. “Basically Tate chooses a man to dominate me but who is dominated by Tate.”
Even Joss blinked over that explanation and then Chessy realized how it had come across. She groaned. “Okay, that is not what I meant.”
“This I gotta hear,” Kylie said in a dry tone.
“Tate chooses a man who would ordinarily act as a Dominant and not take instruction, especially from another Dominant. The man’s task is to . . . please . . . me. Tate tells him what to do and how to do it. Tate watches from the sidelines. That’s a figurative expression, by the way. Tate is always right there overseeing every aspect of what goes on. But he directs the action.”
Kylie’s expression grew thoughtful but she didn’t interrupt Chessy’s explanation.
“The other man takes me through the paces.”
Chessy glanced around uneasily to ensure no one was sitting close enough to their booth to potentially overhear and lowered her voice for the remainder of her explanation.
“The man undresses me, slowly, at Tate’s command. From there, it’s whatever Tate wishes to see or experience.”
Kylie frowned. “And not about what you want?”
“Oh yes,” Chessy said with a radiant smile. “Tate is very aware of what I like, what gives me pleasure. But he likes to surprise me. He never tells me beforehand what to expect. Me not knowing heightens the anticipation. Sometimes the man will bind me to cross bars, arms and legs spread wide. He’ll flog me or use leather. Other times he’ll secure me over a spanking bench and after the man has ‘sufficiently prepared’ me, Tate will take over and fuck me while my skin is still heated from the kiss of the whip.” She could feel the blush working its way up her neck at the blunt way she’d described the scene.
Kylie sent a suspicious glance Joss’s way. “You don’t seem the least bit shocked or appalled. Just what have you and Dash been up to anyway?”
“Oh, much the same,” Joss said cheerfully. “Only without the other guy, and well, not since we learned I was pregnant.”
Kylie shook her head. “Clearly I’m the boring one in this group.”
Chessy smiled mischievously. “Oh, I don’t know. Tying a guy to your bed can’t exactly be considered boring.”
“Y’all are never going to let go of that, are you?” Kylie asked with an exasperated sigh.
“Nope!” Joss said, a huge grin on her face.
“I think y’all are the ones who need therapy,” Kylie grumbled. “I’m looking more ‘normal’ all the time.”
Joss checked her watch and then glanced up at the others in chagrin. “Sorry to eat and run but I have to leave if I’m going to make my OB appointment.”