by Madeleine Oh
After much thought he’d come up with the idea of the fake personal ad. This way it would give her a sense of security by letting her make the first move and create the illusion that she was the one in charge. Creating a custom version of The Rose and the Thorn personals had been a snap on his computer, convincing his best friend’s sister had been a different story.
He stroked one slender foot.
When he’d approached Con about arranging an introduction with Gia, she’d baldly stated he wasn’t her type. It had taken quite a bit of fast-talking to get her to admit that Gia was heavily into bondage games.
A slow heat ignited in his gut.
Little did Con know about his sexual proclivities…
He’d been celibate for the better part of the last six months and he was itching to get back into the game. Just the thought of Gia, nude, tied to his bed, her buttocks pink from his hand or a soft leather paddle, and his cock hardened. If she was as submissive as Con had hinted, Gia was definitely the woman for him.
He dropped his hand.
And who knew? Maybe Gia would decide he was just the man for her, permanently.
Chapter Three
Loaded down with shopping bags, Gia breathed a sigh of relief when her apartment door shut behind her. The cool, silence of her sanctuary soothed her weary soul and the mixed scents of lemon oil and lavender caused her to smile. How she was looking forward to taking a hot bath, donning her pajamas and curling up in bed with a good book.
“Manuela?” She dropped her packages on a chair near the library door. “Are you still here?”
“Sí. In the living room, Señorita Gia.” Her housekeeper’s familiar accent broke the stillness.
The scent of roses struck her hard and she recoiled, her stomach churning. Le bastardo had sent roses with every message he’d left and now, even after more than two years of peace, she still associated the scent with fear. Her gaze sought the source of the odor and she spied a clutch of pink roses in a vase near the stairs. Her mouth went dry.
There’s no reason to believe he sent them…you’re safe here in New York.
Her gaze danced around the familiar confines of the foyer. She lived in a secured building with twenty-four-hour security guards and cameras in the hallways and lobby. No one could gain access to her apartment unless she left their name with the guard and he’d ring her before granting them entrance. A small keypad near the front door was her direct link to the guard station and all she had to do was push three buttons and armed help would arrive in less than two minutes.
Pushing aside her fears, she rubbed a shaky hand over her stomach. Her housekeeper must’ve picked up the flowers, forgetting that she hated roses. It wasn’t unusual for Manuela to stop and buy a bouquet on her way into work in the morning.
Walking into the living room she found her housekeeper loading her cleaning supplies into a small carrying caddy. The round, friendly-faced woman was dressed in her usual black polyester dress and comfortable shoes and her dark hair was arranged in its familiar braid.
“How was your day, Manuela?” Gia perched on the arm of the couch. Her ankle was aching from all the walking she’d done when she and Connie had hit the shops after the spa.
“Fine, fine, Señorita. I picked up your dry cleaning and put them away for you.” She gave the coffee table one last swipe with her dust cloth before tucking it into the caddy. “I also took some phone messages and they’re on your desk along with the mail.”
“Excellent. Did a package arrive from my mother? She mentioned she was sending some old photographs and I can’t wait to see them.” Gia stretched her ankle and tried to ignore the ache that had set in. She’d have to take a pain pill or she’d never get any sleep tonight.
“Sí, there are several packages for you.” Manuela picked up the caddy. “You did not leave instructions for dinner so I made a grilled chicken salad for you, okay?”
“Fine, Manuela, thank you.”
Both women walked into the hall and the housekeeper turned toward the kitchen. “If you don’t need me, I’ll put away my supplies and head home, Señorita Gia.”
Gia headed for the library. “Thank you for everything, Manuela. I hope you have a good evening.”
“Thank you, Señorita.”
The scent of leather and lavender engulfed her when she walked into the library. Her desk was situated before a wide window and her mail and phone messages were arranged in two neat piles. Ignoring the phone messages and the envelopes, she picked up two slim packages from the bottom of the stack. Glancing at the return addresses, she noted that one was indeed from her mother while the other was blank. She frowned. The post office stamp indicated it had been mailed only a day ago from a Manhattan zip code.
She sighed and tore the tab on the back. No doubt it was from her agent pushing her to sign the endorsement deal with a leading leotard manufacturer. He just couldn’t understand that she didn’t think it was necessary to put her face on a hangtag just to sell clothing. It wasn’t as if she needed the money. She’d banked much of her dance earnings and had received a substantial inheritance from her maternal grandfather when she’d turned twenty-five. No, selling clothing was not her style but teaching was. For the past few months in the back of her mind, the idea of opening her own dance studio was slowly taking shape.
She reached inside the envelope and withdrew a folded piece of paper. Her breath caught when she saw the familiar handwriting.
Miss me?
With shaky hands, she dumped the remaining contents of the envelope onto the desk. Several photographs fell out and her blood ran cold when she saw they were all of her. She picked them up and flipped through them, her heart beating faster with each one. All of them had been taken within the past week or so. One was of her walking into her doctor’s office on Fifth Avenue and another was of her and Connie at a bistro in the Village.
Stunned, Gia dropped the envelope. He was back. The man who’d caused her accident had tracked her to New York.
* * * * *
Sitting on her couch wrapped in an afghan, Gia was numb. Several police detectives were speaking in hushed tones as they gathered evidence in her library. Manuela hovered over her, wringing her hands and muttering colorful Spanish curses.
A rookie police officer was stationed in the entry near the front door, though why she wasn’t sure. Did the detectives think le bastardo would try and break in? Or better yet, maybe that she’d try to make a fast getaway? It wouldn’t surprise her if they believed she was a liar as their skepticism was evident as she’d made her report.
Weary, she rubbed her forehead trying to will away a burgeoning headache.
“Miss Conti?”
Gia dropped her hand into her lap as the taller detective, Gannon maybe, walked toward her with a black notebook in his hands.
“Yes?”
He stopped a few feet away, his pen poised to make notes. “What makes you think this is the same man who’d threatened your life in California?”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see from the bland look on his face that he still didn’t believe her.
“I recognized his handwriting.” Her voice was faint.
“And you believe he’s coming after you again?”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. When she’d moved here her agent had urged her to notify the police of her background and the ongoing investigation in Los Angeles. Up until now her life had been quiet and there’d never been any need to call them to her home. No doubt he thought she was just some nervous Nelly or a fading celebrity in search of some tabloid coverage.
“Isn’t that what it looks like to you? I receive an envelope of photographs of myself with a note asking if I’d missed him. This is not a common occurrence in my life.”
“It would appear to me that you have an admirer who is handy with a camera or a practical joker trying to scare you.” He shrugged. “While it is a little creepy, you are a celebrity and there’s no law against taking photos of someone on
a public street.”
“You need to contact Sergeant Diaz at the Hollywood Hills police department. This man stalked me in Los Angeles and is a possible suspect in my accident several years ago.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “I left LA because of this creep and I’ve gone to extremes to keep my new home private.”
“Yeah, well.” He flipped his notebook closed. “If this is the same man then I would say someone sold you out or you didn’t do a good enough job in covering your tracks.”
“Great,” she muttered. “So now what do I do?”
“Well, you’ve done a good job of keeping your home safe. This building is secure, the guards are top-notch and I’d recommend that you don’t go out alone at night. If this guy is for real, who knows what he might do.”
Agitated, Gia rose from the couch, still clutching the afghan. “I know exactly what he’ll do, he’ll try to kill me.”
“Miss Conti, let’s not be hasty.” He held up his hands as if that would calm her down. “We don’t know for sure that this is the same man. What I would do if I were you is go away for a few days, relax, have some fun. My partner and I will work on this, dust the evidence for prints and see what we come up with.”
“Nothing, probably.” She sighed. She’d heard that refrain many times in Los Angeles. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but I was just beginning to feel safe here and now,” she waved her hand toward the library. “This is pretty disturbing.”
He gave her an even smile. “No problem, Miss Conti. We’ll get this back to the lab and I’ll call you when we find something.” He headed for the door, leaving her to follow. “In the meantime, if anything else does happen call the number on the card I gave you.”
Yeah, and by the time you get the message I could be dead.
She forced a cool smile. “Thank you, Detective, gentleman. Have a good evening.”
She locked the door behind them taking care to arm the security system. Manuela stood in the living room doorway with a worried expression as she continued to wring her hands.
“Madre de Dios,” she muttered. “What will you do? Will you go away this weekend?”
Gia shrugged. “I don’t know where I would go.”
“Madre de Dios!”
“It will be okay, Manuela.” Sticking her hand in her pocket, she frowned when she felt something unfamiliar. Pulling it out, she saw it was the personal ad Connie had read to her at the spa.
That brat…
* * * * *
A tense twenty-four hours later, Gia spread out the ad on the coffee table and read it for the hundredth time. No doubt Connie had secreted the personals page in her pocket while she’d been showering at the spa. Her gaze moved over the text and the most titillating phrases caught her eye.
Spanking.
Bondage.
Fantasy Games.
Multiple Orgasms.
She groaned and fell back on the couch. For her it wasn’t about orgasms as much as it was about simple human contact. She could masturbate herself to release in minutes—that had never been a challenge. What she longed for was the sensation of hot, male skin against hers, the feel of sweat and arousal as his cock plunged into her hungry body.
But this man would be a complete stranger…
It wasn’t as if she’d never had a one-night stand before. She was twenty-nine years old and had spent over twenty years of her life on the road. Other than two steady boyfriends, all of her sexual encounters had been of the casual variety. What choice did a woman have when she moved between towns every week? It was hard to strike up a relationship when she knew she’d leave in a few days.
Exhausted, Gia rose and headed into her bedroom. Besides, she was tired of feeling trapped in her apartment waiting for le bastardo to make another move. Maybe calling this man who’d placed the ad would divert her from her current predicament and give her a much-needed mental and physical break.
The bedroom was filled with a golden glow from the burning candles. The scent of melted wax and vanilla beans teased her senses. Her bed was made up with cream sheets and the dark wine comforter pulled back, ready for her to climb in.
It wasn’t that she desired a one-night stand, that wasn’t the case at all. It was simply that most men wanted their women at home, not dancing for hours and hours on different stages every night. Gia made a face and reached for her toy drawer. Of course her circumstances had changed and now she could stay home if she chose to do so.
She withdrew her favorite toy, a purple dildo, and couldn’t help but grin. After picking up a bottle of lube, she shed her silk dressing gown and climbed into bed. Pulling the ribbon from her hair, she shook the long locks free until they tumbled over her shoulders. Settling back against a mountain of pillows, she placed her toy on the bed. Situated near the footboard was a large dressing mirror, which afforded her an excellent view of the bed.
Spreading her legs, she stroked her fingers though the narrow stripe of dark hair that covered her mound. She loved waxing her pussy. The silky soft flesh covered only by that small patch of hair made her feel beautiful, sensual. Parting her pussy, she gave herself over to the sensations her fingers aroused. Her flesh grew puffy and wet as she stroked her clit then toyed with the lips of her vagina.
She loved this, the slow ascent, the erotic burn that came from careful arousal. Slowing only long enough to oil her hands and her soon-to-be latex lover, she continued stroking her clit with slippery fingers. Cupping one breast, she toyed with the nipples. They were pierced with tiny gold rings, one in each nipple. Giving one of the rings a tug, a sigh hissed through her clenched teeth. It was that mix of pleasure and pain that drove her.
Becoming a sub had never been a conscious decision on her part. Her first serious boyfriend, Eric, had taught her the line between pleasure and pain was very thin in the human psyche. He’d been the first to tie her up, the first to spank her and the first to show her the immense physical and psychological pleasure she was capable of experiencing. Gia had embraced the life of a submissive and from that moment on, she’d never looked back.
Picking up her dildo, she moved it against her vagina, flirting with the sensitive lips. Bracing her feet, she pushed it forward. Her breath came in a slow gasp as the purple latex stretched her delicate muscles and gave her that delicious full feeling. Leaning back, she withdrew only to push inside again. Settling into an even rhythm, she gradually increased the pace as her arousal grew.
Her back arched and she hammered away with the dildo, her body taking and yet wanting more. With a flick of a finger she turned on a vibrator inside the dildo and the sensations only increased her arousal. The pace was brutal as she fucked herself toward the edge of release. Sweat broke out on her skin as soft cries escaped her mouth. With her free hand she pulled hard at her nipple rings, the sensation just enough to toss her over the edge.
With a low moan she drove the dildo in deep. Her head snapped back and her cries echoed off the walls of her bedroom yet still it wasn’t enough. Even though she’d reached her release, she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Releasing her nipple ring, she began masturbating her clit as she worked the dildo in and out of her still-needy flesh. Swiftly she ascended the peak to a second orgasm and she howled as she came.
Panting, Gia went limp against the pillows, her dildo clutched in her hands. Flicking the off switch, her lover went silent and she rolled onto her side and curled up in a ball.
Why did she feel so empty?
Tucking her hand against her cheek, she inhaled the scent of her own release. Maybe, just maybe she’d call the number in the personal ad in the morning. Gia yawned. Who knew? At the other end just might be the Dom of her dreams.
* * * * *
Drake’s attention was focused on his potter’s wheel when the intercom buzzed. He cursed under his breath when the vase, for the second time, collapsed beneath his hands. Several times he’d thought about killing his assistant but the problem was he worked cheap and he was a cousin. His Aunt Clare would not be
happy if he strung Jim up by the balls.
He rose and stalked toward to the intercom. Mindless of the wet clay on his hands, he hit the TALK button.
“What now?” he barked.
“Someone named Gia Conti called on that special phone line you installed,” Jim’s nasally voice sounded over the speaker.
His pulse quickened. “Yes, and?”
“I did as you asked and got her pertinent information and set up a telephone interview with her this evening at 8:00 p.m.”
He held his breath as a rush of pleasure spread through his body to center in his groin. He glanced at the clock. In only nine hours he’d be speaking to Gia Conti, the object of his most erotic fantasies for the past few months.
“Excellent,” he could hardly keep from shouting.
“I have her information out here on my desk.”
“Great.”
“She was very…perky.”
“Perky?”
“Mouthy, quick on the uptake. She talked rings around me.”
Drake grinned. In reality it wasn’t hard to do where Jim was concerned. He wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in Aunt Clare’s family but he usually meant well.
“Okay, thanks for the information.”
“Is there anything else you want? I have an appointment with my allergist and after that I have to see my psychologist—”
“No, Jim. You can leave. Just make sure you lock the door behind you. I don’t want any more unexpected visitors.”
“Oh, okay. Bye.”
The intercom clicked again when his assistant disconnected. For a moment Drake stood there with his hands covered in clay as he savored his small victory. While he was a long way from getting Gia into his bed, he was finally on his way. He looked down at his dirty hands. First he had to get cleaned up as he had a great deal to do before calling her this evening.
Chapter Four