His mother would love for him to finally bring a girlfriend home. Besides his senior prom date, he’d never so much as talked about girls with his parents except to state that he was straight, and that had become a necessary conversation when his mother had been approached by a friend’s mother about setting them up. A male friend. Even with being raised to be open-minded, that conversation had stretched his limits.
“Do you know what you want to order?”
She nodded. Her thumb rubbed small circles on the back of his hand. “Yeah, their vegetarian menu looks really good.”
“Good. So you’re twenty-nine, you work in marketing and have a preference for spanking. What else do I know about you?”
Her cheeks flushed an alluring shade of pink and her gaze lowered to their clasped hands. Clearing her throat, she leaned forward over their table.
“Well, you know I have a sister. My mother passed away and my father is still alive. He owns a little hardware store now with an old friend. You know I clean when I’m nervous, and I drive my dad’s old Jeep.” She flashed him a charming smile. “What about you? I don’t know anything about you.”
“I drive an Audi. I forget to pay attention to red lights. I’m thirty-four. And I can’t lose at cards when I try.”
They both chuckled.
The waiter returned to take their orders, breaking into the moment.
“So what do you do?” she asked when they were again alone, or as alone as they could be in a dining room full of people.
He pushed his chair a quarter of the way around the circular table and threaded their fingers together.
“I create wearable art.” Her confused expression was typical. Maybe someday he could be recognized as an artist. Until then he’d have to be satisfied with the title of jeweler. “Necklaces, bracelets, earrings.”
Her eyebrows lifted and her chin tipped up. “So that’s why you don’t like my necklace. You’re a jewelry snob.” Her eyes twinkled under the dim light.
“You could call me that.” He chuckled and nodded, not above poking fun at himself. He knew he had particular tastes when it came to jewelry. “I prefer to think of myself as an artist.”
Her lips curled up at the corners. He was used to the skeptical looks. The truth was he didn’t just create pretty pendants or a nice ring. The things he crafted told stories, made statements. There was much more to it than a necklace a woman threw on to wear with her latest gown.
“Could I go somewhere and buy something you’ve made?”
“Soon. That’s what I’ve been doing this last year. Up until now, I made everything myself in my workshop. I’m in the process of building a brand and I have a small team of craftsmen who are helping me reproduce the originals to sell to a wider audience.”
“Wow, how do you even get into something like that?”
“I was flunking out of college, mostly because I was bored. I did an internship for a major jewelry chain at a corporate office and caught a glimpse of what went into creating jewelry and that was the end of my college days. I took an intensive jewelry-making course and apprenticed to a few different people before starting to work for a small, upscale designer. I cut my teeth in New York, living off ramen and tuna.”
“That’s amazing. I got a marketing degree because it was safe. People are always going to want to sell stuff. Sometimes I wish I’d gone for something else.”
“Do you enjoy your job?”
“Sure. It’s creative and complicated, but nothing like what you do.”
“It’s not that glamorous. Starting out was tough.”
“Yeah?”
He shrugged. “It took me away from my family, which was really hard. I was too busy between my day job and designing my stuff on the side to stay as connected with them as I should have. Spent some time living out of my car because I was too proud to tell Mom and Dad.”
“Why didn’t you tell them?” Her brow creased and a frown marred the delicate beauty of her face.
He wasn’t ready to explain his family dynamic to her. That was too personal, too messy for a first date. But he could tell her part of the truth. “My parents really supported me in the early years. They paid for my school, my first apartment and supplemented my income until I could pay for it on my own. I did all right for about a year, year and a half, but I got screwed over by the guy I was working for and lost pretty much everything. They’d given me so much, I didn’t want to ask them for anything else, you know?”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“What about you?”
“Me? I had a scholarship to Georgia State, went there until Mom got sick and moved back home, finished doing distance and online courses. Not nearly as exciting.”
What kind of strength did it take for a young woman to give up her life to take care of her family?
“Can I ask what happened to your mom?”
“Cancer. Mom always made sure we went to the doctor once a year, but never went herself until it was too late.”
Her gaze dropped to the tea light in the middle of the table. When he didn’t reply, she continued.
“It was mid-spring semester and Mom asked if I’d come home on the weekend. I didn’t really want to. I’d started seeing a guy I was really into and he had tickets for some group we were both crazy about then. Can’t even remember who now. She told Lucy and me that weekend. She and Dad had known since before Christmas. They even started selling off things we wouldn’t notice to pay for stuff. It was crazy. One minute she was there, the next she was gone.”
Shit. He hadn’t wanted to make her cry. He grasped her elbow with his free hand and squeezed. She glanced up at him through her lashes.
“Sorry, that’s kind of depressing.”
“No, it’s part of who you are.” Shit, and he hadn’t wanted to talk about his family because it was too personal? He was an ass.
“Anyways.” She wiped at her eyes with the linen napkin. “So why did you move to Atlanta? Isn’t New York where everyone goes for stuff like that? Or L.A.?”
He cleared his throat. “Exactly. The market in New York and L.A. is glutted with too much product. Atlanta is a strong up-and-coming area with a lot to offer.”
She nodded. “Yeah, the marketing firm I used to work for was always keeping tabs on smaller businesses, waiting for them to get big enough to use us.”
He leaned forward, surprised by the parallels between their jobs. “In a way it’s being the big fish in the small bowl, but it’s steadily growing, despite the recession.”
“That’s still really awesome. So where do you want to sell your stuff?” She appeared to have shaken off the sad memories.
“Right now it’s mostly boutiques and other designers. I’m hoping that with this winter collection I will be able to get space in a bigger, name-brand store. Some might turn their noses up at it, but you have to be in a place where people will see you so they can buy your product.”
She nodded as he spoke. “That makes perfect sense.”
He tilted his head to the side. He’d wanted to see the other layers that made up Christine and liked what he saw. They slipped into a comfortable feeling, as if they’d spent ages together instead of just hours. This was what he had been looking for. She wasn’t just a well-trained, sexy submissive, she was damn smart as well.
Christine was glad the portions on the multi-course meal were petite. The dress fit her like a second skin, not uncomfortable but overeating would be. Besides, her nerves were taut and she could only manage to eat half of each course. They still had dessert to go.
Her attention drifted to the rest of the patrons. There were many glamorous-looking people at the restaurant. She’d never dined at a place this extravagant. The glimpses she got of the kitchen made her think of the cooking competition shows with the chefs who had a penchant for yelling. She’d been focused on Daniel and not dropping food on herself for most of the meal, so she hadn’t paid much attention to their surroundings, which was a pity because the place was beau
tiful.
Heat blossomed on the tender underside of her wrist. She tried to jerk away from it, but Daniel held her in place. Whipping her head around, she sucked in a breath and stared at him. He pressed the back of her hand flat against the table. In his other hand he held the burned-out tea light from the centerpiece over her arm. The wick was gone, but there was still hot wax in the silver dish.
She glanced down at her arm and the tiny circle of drying wax. The skin around the white dot was pink and tingled.
His eyes were bright but his face was drawn into the emotionless façade that was the Dom.
“Too hot?”
She shook her head. She was surprised but it didn’t hurt. Not after the initial shock. His gaze dropped to her arm. He slowly dripped more wax, pouring a line down the sensitive skin. It was warm and a little uncomfortable. Her attention centered on where the wax would fall next. By the time the last bit had fallen, she was squirming in her seat. How heat on her arm could have her creaming her panties was a mystery.
He discarded the silver saucer and bent over her arm. Holding her gaze, he gently blew on the wax. She shivered and wished they were someplace private.
“Do you like the wax?” His eyes were heavy-lidded and sexy.
Sexual hunger blossomed between them. Her voice morphed into a sultry, breathless purr. “I’ve never played with it before. But I’d be interested.”
His fingers traced the top of the still-soft wax. He stared into her eyes as if he were reading her soul. “Did you get yourself off last night?”
Heat gripped her cheeks. She couldn’t help glancing around them. Could other people hear them?
He squeezed her hand. “You’re here with me. Pay attention to me.”
Squirming, she took her time sliding her gaze back to him. She’d had relationships that included kink before, but there had always been clear-cut boundaries between the bedroom and public.
Wetting her lips, she looked up at him through her lashes. Their relationship was based on trust. Testing was natural, but not something she’d thought would happen so soon.
She cleared her throat and tried to reply as calmly as possible. “Daniel, I’m uncomfortable talking about this in public.”
“We aren’t doing anything.” His thumb traced the wax on her arm. “What’s making you uncomfortable?”
Though she didn’t think the people at the nearest table could hear them, she still glanced their way. “People might be listening.”
He frowned and his fingers stilled against her skin. “There are talk radio shows and websites where people discuss their sex lives. I asked one question. Did you use a vibrator? Or your hands?”
“No,” she hissed, trying to tug her hand from his but he didn’t let her go.
“No?”
He lifted one damn eyebrow and she stilled. She couldn’t meet his gaze so she ducked her head and stared at the tablecloth. She knew she was blushing furiously and she hated it.
“No.”
“No, what?”
Lifting her gaze, she met his, forcing herself to not squirm. “No, I didn’t use a vibrator or my…my hands.”
He peeled back the first circle of wax. The skin underneath was hypersensitive to the cool brush of air. He lifted her arm and kissed the spot. She could feel each ridge of flesh, the slight scrape of his stubble. He peeled back the rest, kissing his way up her arm. The restaurant faded away. He could have pulled her up onto the table, fucked her right there and she wouldn’t have cared.
She didn’t know how far he would have taken it if the waiter hadn’t delivered their desserts. He didn’t seem to care about people watching or listening.
She looked down at her tropical-colored dessert, trying to wrap her brain around eating when all she wanted was the man across from her.
He leaned forward and pitched his voice low. “I want to fuck you. I’ve had a hard-on since Friday. Go to the club with me?”
Her breath caught in her throat. Her body pulsed with need.
“Yes Sir. I’d like that.”
Christine gripped the side of the door. She dug her heels into the floorboard, allowing her some traction to move her hips.
“Oh god,” she muttered as her eyes rolled back into her head.
Daniel’s hand was between her thighs again but he wasn’t fooling around. Well, he was fooling around but it was purposeful. His touch through the fabric of her panties was firm but not enough. She needed more friction, harder and faster. She’d been sexually frustrated since Friday, and she was finally going to get some relief, if only he would fuck her now.
She stifled a complaint when he pulled his hands away. The car accelerated, the force pushing her back against the leather, vibrating with the roar of the engine. Grinding her pussy against the seat, she grasped the overhead handle and moaned. She’d take a cargasm if he’d hit the gas hard enough.
The drive wasn’t a long one but for her it took forever. Her world had narrowed to the strumming of her clit. She could hear his voice but it was background to what was going on between her legs. Or had been going on until he’d needed to shift gears.
The momentum threw her against the car door. Grunting, she opened her eyes, disoriented by the dark, urban surroundings. The car made a hard stop under a carport, throwing her forward into the seat belt.
They were at the club.
Oh thank god, finally.
“Out,” he barked as his door slammed shut.
She fumbled with the door handle, forgetting the seat belt until it snapped her back against the seat. Daniel leaned over her and popped the release. He grinned at her, momentarily letting the Dom façade slip. They laughed and he took her hands, pulling her out of the low car.
He pushed the door shut behind her with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist. She went willingly, pressing herself against him from knee to lips. She loved that he kissed her as enthusiastically as she kissed him. He hauled her forward and they hustled into the nondescript building, which, unbeknown to the neighbors, hosted a naughty clientele.
Though it was Tuesday, the club was busy. She heard people call out to Daniel but he didn’t stop. His hand on her lower back propelled her from the foyer, where they left their coats, down the hall into the public dungeon.
Her heart beat in double time. Rooms would have been booked by now. Leaving only the public areas available. She hadn’t considered the logistics before agreeing to his suggestion.
“Daniel, Sir.”
He turned to her, pushing her up against a table on the fringes of the room and bracketing her with his body. Gone was the easygoing, quick-to-laugh man from dinner, this was the Dom side. Adrenaline pumped through her, amped up by the sounds of flesh slapping, moans of pleasure and pain and the unmistakable scent of sex. It was background noise, subtext to the unspoken conversation flying back and forth between them.
“Do you trust me?” he growled, inches from her face.
Her response flew off her lips without hesitation. “Of course.”
“Good.”
“I-I’m just…” Her gaze flicked over his shoulder to the blur of people.
He grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. His voice was soft though his hold was not. “You’re shy?”
“I’m not my sister,” she whispered.
The hold on her chin tightened. “I don’t care what you aren’t. Do you not trust me?”
She clung to his arm. “I do.”
He pulled out of her grasp and she almost launched herself at him. People staring at her, the idea of being stripped bare for everyone to see unsettled her. But losing Daniel over her anxiety was the worst. She needed him more. Any man could get her off, but she needed him. Their connection, the chemistry wasn’t something easily found.
He gripped her hips and pushed her on top of a metal table. Her ass slid across the surface thanks to the silky material of her dress. Her hands flattened against the table on instinct. Her heart raced. She didn’t want to disappoint him.
His hands covered hers. Leaning forward, he took her mouth in a dominating kiss. She melted for him, opening her mouth, putting up no defense against his conquest.
“Unbutton my pants.”
Her voice was a breathy whisper to his command. “Yes Sir.”
Since he was dressed to the nines, she had to fumble with the slim buckle on his belt and the obnoxious fancy button on his slacks. Her breathing was erratic, pounding out a counter rhythm to the pulsing tones being pumped out through the speakers. Though he hadn’t told her to, she tugged his boxer briefs down to expose his cock, easing his clothing out of the way until his balls were free.
“Go ahead,” he dared.
She didn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping her hand around his cock, she pumped him slowly, caressing the head with her thumb. Lest his balls be forgotten, she cupped them with her other hand. His skin was darker than hers, a warm olive tone to her lily white.
He grasped her wrists and pulled her off the table.
She tripped over her heels but he held her up, maneuvering her around the table until she faced a wall and he the crowd. She almost laughed at his concession to her inhibition but he was already tugging the side zipper on her dress down. Nerves had her frozen, arms around his neck and her gaze latched on his lips as the dress slid down her body to hang at her hips. She wasn’t naked, but she might as well have been.
Goose bumps broke out across her flesh and she could feel a hole being bored into her back from the people staring at her. She’d never been one for the limelight, exhibitionism wasn’t something she liked. Public play made her nervous.
“Chris.” He tugged painfully on her hair, forcing her face up to meet his gaze.
“Sir?”
“Who are you supposed to be focused on?” His rough voice made her shudder.
“You, Sir.” She bit her lip, knowing what was coming.
“Who are you thinking about?”
She wanted to look away from him. She didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. “The people staring. Sir.”
“So those people are more important than my cock?”
“No Sir.”
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