He sat down on the couch. He didn’t know what to say. It was one thing to find Lucy annoying, but it was another to have to live with her.
She stopped her pacing and stared at him. Her face was red and blotchy, the tear tracks glistening against her cheeks and her hair was up in a messy knot on top of her head.
“I’m sorry I forgot and I didn’t call you. I really am. I got upset and wasn’t thinking. It’s not an excuse, I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Chris.” He reached for her hand and tugged her forward until their knees bumped. “I get it, okay? I was worried something had happened to you. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He paused. Though he’d had his rocky spots with his adopted father, they’d never fought like this. He was out of his element. “Do you want me to leave you alone? I will if you want me to. I’d rather you come home with me. Or let me stay here.”
She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. The apartment still smelled faintly of the lemon-scented candles he’d burned last week. He could tell her to come with him, and he was reasonably certain she would go, but he wanted her to choose.
“I’m a mess,” she muttered after a few moments.
“There are these things called showers. I hear they’re great.”
She plucked at her shirt. “You don’t want to put up with me like this.”
He sighed. “Chris, do you want me to leave you alone?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“All right then.” He stood, bumping her body with his. Capturing her face in his hands, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You left your bag at my place. Why don’t you come home with me? Do you need anything else?”
“Yeah. Just give me a second, okay?”
He brushed tears away. “Sure. Do you want me to take a look at the necklace?”
Her jaw dropped a little. “Would you mind?”
“Chris, get the necklace.” He patted her bottom and watched her shuffle to where her purse lay discarded on the table next to the door. She pulled out a plastic bag and brought it to him.
Inside were two sections of the necklace, both laden with sizeable pearls on an aging and rotting string. It looked as if it were a true family heirloom, something that had been passed from mother to daughter for generations. He counted the pieces. Without his tools he couldn’t make a true estimate on what had been lost, but there was enough intact to recreate the necklace on new string.
“When you wore it, where did the necklace hit you?”
Christine gestured to a point just below her collarbone.
“So it was maybe fourteen, sixteen inches long?”
She clasped her hands over her mouth and watched him. “Yeah.”
He ran his fingers over a section of the necklace still on the string. “I’m just looking at these pieces here. It doesn’t look like there is much, if anything missing. Pearl necklaces have knots between each bead to keep from the string breaking and losing all of them. The cord is rotting, so it wouldn’t take much to break it. I can fix this. It’s not ruined.”
“You can fix it?” Her voice was so small and childlike.
“Yeah, you can even watch to make sure I do it right.”
Had he just said that? He could count on one hand the number of people he tolerated in his workroom, and not even half of them could be around while he was working. She brought that number up to two.
“Really?”
He sealed the bag and put it in his pocket. “I can. Let’s get your stuff together.”
“I’ll get it. Give me a few minutes?”
True to her word, she was ready to go in less than five minutes. She didn’t protest when he guided her to his car, or when he pushed her into the bathroom after they arrived.
All of his plans had to be reworked, but that was part of life. Scurrying to set up things he should have had done earlier in the day. Fate was with him because she stayed in the shower for ages. He was almost done cooking by the time a much different Christine emerged.
He had to do a double take when the door opened. Her curls were pulled back and she looked fresh and soft.
“What?” She stopped at the end of the counter and picked at her pale-pink sweater dress.
“Wow.” He stirred the concoction in the wok pan. Seeing her back to normal relieved the tension gripping his shoulders, and just like that, the moment slipped into something comfortable. Something he could see doing again.
“What are you talking about?” Her face was scrunched up. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her.
“You look hot.”
She ran a hand through her hair. “Thanks. Need a hand?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Can you grab the butter and bread and pop them in the oven?”
“Sure.”
He watched her from the corner of his eye as she read the label on the packaging. She put her hip against the counter and turned toward him.
“What’s this?” She flashed the frozen bread at him.
“Bread,” he replied, purposefully obtuse.
“Yeah, because I’m sure everyone keeps gluten-free bread in their freezer.” She opened one end and slid out a loaf with tiny ice crystals all over it.
“You said you had a gluten allergy. They make gluten-free bread. I thought it was a win-win.” He was actually rather proud of himself not only for the bread, but also finding a wide selection of other gluten-free products.
She put the bread on a tray and slid it into the oven before wrapping her arms around his waist. “Thank you.”
They finished cooking together and moved to the sofa where he presented her with three movie selections, all current, mushy romances a girl at the rental kiosk had gushed about at length.
She perched on the couch and eyed them. She didn’t appear excited about the selections as he’d hoped. Instead she stabbed some of the pasta and popped it in her mouth despite it still being hot.
She fanned her mouth. “It’s good.”
“What do you want to watch?” He pushed his food around his plate, not foolish enough to try it yet.
She took her time chewing and swallowing her food and picking at her plate. “We don’t have to watch a movie.”
He was learning to read her. When she lowered her eyes and wouldn’t look at his face, she was hiding something. He weighed his choices. On one hand he wanted to have an enjoyable evening, especially after what she’d been through, but on the other, their relationship required trust.
“Chris, what’s on your mind?”
“What?” She looked at him then, a wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights stare. “Nothing.”
“Christine—”
Her fork clanked loudly against the plate. “I’m overthinking things, okay?”
He put his plate on the coffee table and relaxed into the couch, stretching an arm across the back toward her.
“So talk to me.”
“Let’s just watch a movie.”
He watched her pick one of the movies at random and pop off the couch. She put her plate on the coffee table and busied herself inserting in the movie. He grabbed the remote, powered off the player and set it on his knee.
She turned to look at him, her face pinched and confused.
“Talk to me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why can’t you be a normal guy? One who doesn’t want to talk?” she groused without feeling. She returned to the couch and sat with her legs curled under her.
He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair, marveling at the softness. He tucked her curls behind her ear and tugged her closer. “You wouldn’t like me as much.”
“You’re right.” She sighed, resting her hand on his thigh and leaning into him. “I’m being crazy.”
She paused but he didn’t respond.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
Again he didn’t reply.
She pulled away and turned to face him. She had her lip pinched between her teeth again. “What are we, Daniel? Are we dating? Frien
ds with benefits? Play partners? I like you. I’m not good at hiding things like that, or playing it cool.” Once the words started pouring from her lips she spoke with more confidence. “I need to know what we are, because it’s not fair to you or me if I get emotionally attached and you don’t.”
Oh god. She’d said it. She’d said it and he sat there and looked at her with the same infuriatingly impassive face she couldn’t read. Her hands fisted the material over her thighs. She was nervous but she was steadier than she’d anticipated.
Daniel rubbed his jaw and sighed. It was a disappointed noise, as if she had seriously put him out. Her heart dropped. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything. It was too soon to be this needy.
“I was going to do this after we’d eaten.” He dug into his pocket and frowned. He muttered a curse under his breath and in the next moment gave her a boyish grin. “Go into the bedroom and wait for me. I’ll be right back.”
He left her sitting on the couch and jogged up the stairs to his workshop. She should dig her heels in and demanded a real answer. Instead, she watched him disappear behind the doors and, when he didn’t immediately reappear, she gathered their dishes and delivered them to the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder and pursed her lips. If she weren’t emotionally exhausted, his avoiding her question would irritate her more. Still, she entered the bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed.
The blankets had been stripped off and man-folded into a wad on the floor. The red ropes they’d used before were already tied to the posts. She ran her fingers along the nearest rope. She wanted him to use those on her, but she was a creature that thrived on relationship. She couldn’t keep being near him and not want more.
From across the loft she could hear the door snick shut and the thump-thump, thump-thump of Daniel’s steps descending the stairs. There was a noticeable spring to his stride as he crossed the hardwood floor. She felt the caress of his gaze the moment he entered the bedroom. His body heat seared her skin through the dress.
“Maybe I should have been clearer, but I wanted you on the bed.”
The words were spoken so close to her skin that she felt the ghost of their touch. She shuddered and sidestepped him. “What if that’s not what I want?”
Lines creased his forehead and around his mouth. “Then safe-word out.”
“You never gave me a safe word.”
“Fine. Pick one.”
“Pearls.”
He shook his head. “No. Pick another.”
She buried her face in her hands. “Why are we talking about this now?”
“Christine, I want you to take off your dress and lie on the bed. Think about a safe word. When you’re where I want you, we will discuss your questions, but we will do this my way. Do you understand?”
Invisible fingers ran up her spine. When he used that tone of voice all coherent thought vanished. Her switch flipped. She grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up over her head. Daniel grabbed it before she let it go and laid it across the bench at the foot of the bed. She didn’t look at him as she crawled onto the mattress and lay where he directed her.
“Well?” He stood at the side of the bed, arms crossed and expression shuttered.
“Kumquat.”
Daniel’s brows shot up and he sputtered, “What?”
She folded her arms under her head. “My safe word is kumquat. You can’t say it and not laugh. I’m sorry I’m being moody.”
He leaned over the bed and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “I get it. Trust me a little though?”
She cupped the back of his head. “I do trust you.”
“Good. Take your underwear off.” He straightened but didn’t move from his position next to the bed.
Submission was a choice. Daniel’s confidence, his commanding presence and the way he used his voice snapped her into the right mindset, but she still had to want to do what he asked of her.
She pushed her panties down around her thighs and shimmied out of them. Daniel held out his hand and she obeyed the silent request and handed him the pink thong she’d picked out when they first decided on spending Valentine’s together. Her bra was made from a matching pink lace with an easy-access front closure. She delivered that article into his hands and lay back on the pillows.
Daniel placed her underwear with her dress. He grabbed the ankle nearest him and pulled her several inches down the bed until she was positioned exactly where he wanted her.
“Sir?”
He tied the rope around her ankle, this time tight enough she could not escape. “Did I say you could speak?”
“No Sir.”
“Do I need to gag you?”
His sharp tone had her shrinking back into the pillows. “No Sir.”
He continued to tie her other leg to the bedpost, spreading her legs to the point of being uncomfortable. He circled to the other side of the bed and held out his hand for her right arm. She studied his face while he tied her wrist. He maintained his silence while he secured her other arm and retrieved his bag she recognized from the club.
A nylon bag shouldn’t have the ability to be ominous, but it was. She’d glimpsed some of the things in that bag and not everything was made for pleasure. He rummaged around and pulled out one of his pouches. He crawled up between her legs without removing the object from the bag.
He caressed her slit and ran his fingers between her labia. “Hm, not nearly wet enough.”
He held up the bag, no doubt so she could see exactly what he was doing, and plucked the strings. He pulled a nonthreatening lifelike dildo out and held it up. By visual estimates, it wasn’t as big as he was, but size wasn’t everything. She had no doubt Daniel had some creative torture in store for her.
“Relax.” He spread her nether lips open and pressed the head of the dildo into her.
She inhaled and rolled her hips a little. The dildo’s faux veins and ridges slid in and out. The cool cyberskin felt strange after Daniel’s cock.
“Look at me.”
Christine hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes somewhere along the line. Her gaze latched on his. She gripped the ropes binding her to the bed. He pumped the dildo in and out. The imitation sac bumped her ass. He pushed it in and clicked a button and the whole thing began to vibrate. She shivered and clamped down around it.
“Keep that there. Don’t let it come out.”
“Yes Sir.” Her voice was breathy. She needed more friction or stimulus to her clit. The dildo alone wasn’t enough to make her come.
Daniel reached into his back pocket and produced something she remembered very well, the nipple clamps he’d used on her their first night together. Her nipples beaded under his gaze, remembering the pleasure of his mouth and the pressure of the clamps.
He crawled up to straddle her waist and laid the clamps and beads between her breasts. Instead of sucking her nipples, he pinched both peaks and pulled them. She whimpered and arched her back, but Daniel pulled harder.
“It hurts.”
“That’s the point.” He took one of the clamps and attached it to her breast.
The pinch of pain mixed with the pulsing lust between her legs. Daniel attached the other clamp and sat back with his hands on his thighs. Her eyes drifted closed and she tried to shift her hips under his weight. The dildo had slipped out just a little. She clamped her muscles tight and bit her lip.
Daniel plucked the string of beads from where they’d pooled on her sternum and pulled. Pain blossomed in each breast. Her eyes snapped open and she cried out.
“I told you to keep them open.”
“Yes Sir. Sorry, Sir.”
“Better.” He scooted back between her legs and pushed the dildo farther in. She moaned at the sensation of the little bumps and veins sliding over her flesh.
“Sir?” She moaned, asking him for something she couldn’t name.
“I’m here.” He slid the dildo out, studying her face every second.
She wanted him. He knew it, and he knew what
she desired from him. She’d handed him all the cards, and he laid her bare.
He withdrew the dildo until just the tip held her open, then pushed it back in as slowly as he’d withdrawn. No human could move that slow. Least no red-blooded man she’d been with had ever demonstrated that kind of aching restraint.
“Sir, please?” She moved her hips as much as she could, trying to find something to rub against. Her lids drifted mostly shut.
He paused with the dildo half in. “I didn’t ask you to beg.”
Was she begging? Did she care?
“I want you. Sir.”
He pushed the dildo in hard enough she gasped at the delicious sensation ricocheting from her pussy to her nipples. She tilted her head back and met Daniel’s gaze. He watched her every reaction as he repeated the slow withdrawal and thrust of the dildo.
“What if I wanted to humiliate you? Put a leash on you and make you crawl after me? Or call you names like slut and bitch?”
The words sounded foreign and wrong rolling off his lips. That wasn’t Daniel. What did he want from her?
“What if I want to fuck you in public?”
“You, Sir?”
“Me. Just me.”
He was so commanding, the whole world faded away when he bent her to his will. She nodded. “Okay.”
“What if I want you to call me when you leave the office? Every fucking day.”
What was he talking about? “I can take care of myself.”
He yanked on the beads so hard the clamp popped off her right breast. She screamed as pain stabbed the tender flesh. “That’s not the point,” he growled and bent forward.
He laved the abused nipple with his mouth and tongue. Moisture gathered under her lids, not enough to be called tears, but damn, that had hurt. She struggled to rouse her sluggish mind. Would talking to him every day be such a hardship? “I can call you.”
“What about role-play?”
“Yes, I’ll be whoever you want me to be, just fuck me.”
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