by Riley Murphy
“Puke, huh? If you do, we’ll clean it up and start all over again. And don’t bury them under your mashed potato. I’ll be checking.”
He was surprised when she laughed and even more so when she said, “That would be a waste of good potatoes. Mashed are my favorite.”
She wasn’t kidding. As she dug into her second helping it came to him. She was real. Genuine. With an outward confidence that belied her innate submissive qualities. Providing she didn’t think there was a chance of sexual interaction between them, she was relaxed and easy to read. This person sitting up at the counter and eating was a far cry from the wreck of a woman this morning. He’d have to think about this phenomenon.
Then somewhere between her telling him about her educational background and how she came to start up her business, he began to suspect she was possibly a rare breed among submissive women. An alpha submissive. If that were true, he was in for a wild ride because those types of women were not only freakishly smart, but strong and capable, which made dominating them a treasured experience.
Of course, watching her push the kale chips around her plate at the moment made that BDSM miracle a little hard to imagine.
“From now on, I’d advise you to eat the kale chips first. As in,” he took one off her plate and held it out for her, “get what you perceive to be the bad stuff off your plate so you don’t have to stress about it later on.”
She moved to take the chip and he smiled. Pulling her plate in front of him, he said, “Sorry. Another downside to leaving these to the last. I don’t trust you to eat them on your own, so you’ll take them from my hand.”
While he waited for her to do as he’d instructed, he thought about the night ahead. With her being nervous and alcohol available he hoped she exercised caution.
“This is silly.”
“I know. They’re only chips.” He gestured for her to lean in. Her catlike eyes were glassy and she licked her lips. If she raised her gaze from his hand and looked into his eyes he’d probably kiss her.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered and rocked forward for a bite.
The velvet wetness of her mouth slid against the tips of his fingers and he had to steel himself. “Another.” His voice had gone husky, gruff, as she ate one chip after another from his fingers until all seven were gone. Looking down at the empty plate he was sorry now that he hadn’t piled her dish high with them. The way she committed to the task of consuming them was inspiring.
Wiping his hands on his napkin, he asked, “That wasn’t so bad was it?”
“No.” Those exquisite eyes blinked at him and he inwardly groaned. She was back to being the scared and uneasy wreck.
“I like your polish. You did a beautiful job with it.”
“What?”
“Your nails.” He took hold of her hand and brushed his thumb back and forth over the space above her knuckles. “I was right. This color does suit you. Let me see your toes.”
When she twisted on the stool to show him, he scowled. “What are those and why are you wearing them?”
“They’re slipper moccasins. One of my readers sent me them to me for my birthday last year. She crocheted them herself. Do you like them?”
“No.”
“You don’t?” She lifted a foot and turned her ankle right and then left, critically eyeing what he could only describe as a knotted disaster. “They didn’t use to have all that pilling, but I think they’re cute. That’s a cat face on the strap by the button.”
“Let see.” He didn’t wait for her to move, instead he scooped up her foot by the heel and brought it to his lap. “I thought I told you no shoes in my house.”
She was white-knuckling the side of the counter. Her elbow braced while she scowled at him. “These aren’t shoes. They’re slippers. Homemade ones.”
Judging by the dark clouds collecting in her stormy-blue eyes she was attached to the little treasures. Best not to tell her that they looked like dead mice strapped on her. “I can see that.” He unbuttoned the offending item and let it wilt over his thigh. “I don’t want anything between your naked skin and my floor. Not shoes, stockings, socks or even homemade slippers. There’s no negotiating on this.”
Her eyes bugged out of her head as she mouthed the word okay.
Shifting, he adjusted her foot on his thigh and motioned to her. “Give me your other foot.” When she did he unbuttoned that slipper and examined her toes. “Look at these perfect feet. I love the polish. It’s much nicer, isn’t it?” He continued rubbing his hands on each of her arches and looked right at her.
“Yes.”
The clouds were gone, replaced by a brilliant, blue sparkle that shined brighter than her polish. “Do you always dress so formally when you’re at home?”
She’d been wearing the navy-blue skirt suit with that blouse since she’d arrived this morning. She hadn’t even taken off her short blazer.
“I’m not at home.”
When he heard that comment he gently pushed her feet off his lap and helped her readjust on her stool. “You are. For the balance of the ten days I want you to think of the boathouse as your home. As a place where you belong…with me.”
“Why can I drink tonight?”
He finished tossing the knitted monstrosities onto the floor as he thought about her question, taking a moment before forming his answer. “I want us to have a normal night tonight. A date, if you will. Don’t you drink when you go on a regular date? If you don’t, don’t, but remember. You’re nervous. Alcohol and nerves are a bad combination.”
Colin didn’t know what to make of his comment about a normal night. Normal? Regular? As opposed to what? “I don’t really drink much when I go on dates.” But then it wasn’t as if she went on many dates.
He shrugged and stood. “Tonight you’re free to do what you usually do on a date.”
When he bent to retrieve their plates she extended an arm. “No. I’m cleaning. You cooked.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” Quickly she stacked their plates and brought them to the sink. “After tonight we don’t date?”
“No.”
The sharp way he answered made her nearly lose her hold of the dishes. Putting them down gingerly in the sink she asked, “What do we do together?”
“How specific do you want me to be?”
With her heart beating like an African drum during a ritual she rinsed one dish then the other. “Well, we’ll be together, right?”
“Yes, we will.”
She turned off the water and opened the dishwasher. “And we’ll be getting to know one another, so how is that different from dating?”
She felt his hands on her shoulders when she straightened from loading their plates and cutlery into the machine and turned around.
“Tonight you’re on your own. Making your own decisions. Drink or don’t drink. It’s up to you. I’ll give you that even playing field you think you want. I’m telling you ahead of time so you can make the most of it, because tomorrow the game changes and we explore the depths of your submissive needs.”
His big body, woodsy scent and captivating eyes made it hard for her to concentrate. “I-I don’t have needs, Ethan. At least I don’t think I do. It’s more like a curiosity. That’s all.”
“Trust me. What you’re feeling are needs. Do you want me to explain them to you? If you do I will.”
There was that question again and for some reason all she could think of were those stupid kale chips. She hadn’t wanted to eat them, any more than she wanted him to explain about her needs. But just like having to buckle down and eat the chips, she’d eventually have to hear what he had to say. To quote Ethan, she needed to get what she perceived to be the bad stuff off her plate so she didn’t have to stress about it later on. “Yes. I want you to explain it to me.”
If he was surprised by her agreement he didn’t show it. “Come into the family room.” He took her by the hand and led her around the counter.
“But
I haven’t finished cleaning the kitchen.”
“You can do it after.”
She sat on the edge of the couch cushion and waited while he settled himself on the thick wood coffee table in front of her. “I want you to forget about being embarrassed. I want you to listen without making judgments and I want honest answers from you.”
She nodded, thinking now she’d done it.
“Before you met me were you having extreme fantasies of powerful men taking control over you sexually?”
She’d done it all right. She wanted to bury her face in her hands. Normal people didn’t go around talking or divulging their fantasies to complete strangers. She stared at his chest, his melt-worthy chest and sighed. He wasn’t a complete stranger. He was her freaking fantasy. The steady rise and fall as he breathed gave her courage. “Yes.”
“And after you met me?”
“What?” She looked up at him and her heart skipped a beat. Because just then he pushed a hand through his hair and eyed her in the most intimate way imaginable. She could tell he was waiting for her to say something more so she asked, “After I met you what?”
“I became the man in your fantasies.”
She wanted to shake her head no. Say the word. Scream it, but she wasn’t going to lie.
And he knew it. Bending forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. The position made them almost the same height. He was close. Too close. His breath fanned her face and he said, “Have you had fantasies of me tearing off your clothes?”
She wanted to die.
“Despite your seeming aversion to the reality, I’m sure you’ve had fantasies about me putting you over my knee and spanking you with the flat of my hand or some other object.”
If there was a God, someone would break in right now and put her out of her misery.
“Maybe you see yourself being tortured and teased by me while you’re tied up spread-eagle fashion on my bed.”
His voice went low and husky while his eyes remained fixed. Imprisoning her. “Maybe you fantasize about me locking a collar around your gorgeous throat before ordering you to kneel at my feet.”
She gulped. Where was the hemlock when you needed it? How could he know all this about her? It was as if he knew her every secret. And why was she responding? Getting aroused? Physically reacting to his words?
“You have needs, Colin. Desires. Wants that I can fill for you if you let me.”
“I never fantasized about the collar,” she whispered. That much was true, but now that he brought it up she probably would.
“I have. It’s a dark one. It was my inspiration for that color of nail polish I bought for you.”
“I’m…” She was at a loss for words. Turned-on, tuned in and ready to panic. This all would be so much easier if he just took control and didn’t make her have to understand, agree and admit to everything.
He took hold of her hands and gave them an encouraging squeeze. “I think you’re ready to explore this aspect of yourself. I want to help you do that. Safely. Sanely. And I want you to know you have a say. We don’t do anything you can’t handle. What’s your safe word?”
“Hos-hostage. Are you sure I’m ready to do… I don’t even know what we’re talking about doing.” She looked away. Convinced her face was two different shades of red.
“I’m going to fulfill your every fantasy.”
She snapped back and stared.
“I’m certain we’ll find some new ones together.”
Breathless didn’t describe how she was feeling. If he only knew all the other nasty fantasi—
“I know there is nothing you want to do that I don’t want to do more.”
He couldn’t mean that.
“Come tomorrow you’re going to have to trust me on this. Tonight?” He let go of her hands and leaned back. “Tonight, I want to get to know you better. As friends. That’s all. Gain a little insight into what makes you tick and maybe you can do the same with me.”
She liked the sound of that. “All right.”
“Good. How about I finish the kitchen and you go get changed? Do you have something other than a skirt suit to wear?”
She nodded. She’d brought a number of different outfits, not sure what to expect. “Sure. Casual?”
“Yes.” He helped her up. “We should head out within the hour. Cross the lake while there’s still light. I’ll have a driver pick us up later tonight and one of the guys will bring the boat back in the morning.”
She’d already decided what she’d wear and as there was little she could do with her hair, she stepped around him and said, “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”
She was nearly across the room when he called.
“Colin?”
“Yes?” She stopped and wheeled around.
“Tonight there are no rules, but tomorrow…”
There’d be plenty, she mentally finished for him as she made her way to her room. She was determined to let tonight unfold before she had to worry about tomorrow.
Chapter Nine
Colin was enjoying herself, having decided she would do as Ethan suggested. She’d relax and have some fun tonight. Truthfully, she’d had the most interesting day with him. And now? Well, there were tons of friendly people in the crowd at the Lionsgate. The music was loud. The place was jumping and the rules for tomorrow seemed a lifetime away.
She’d asked him to order her a Bud Lite and shot of peppermint schnapps yet wound up with the beer and a shot of peach schnapps because they didn’t have peppermint. The first round went down so good, that even though he gave her the stink eye when she indicated she wanted another shot, she chose to ignore it. And by the time the second one arrived, she was looking forward to it. She was eager to have something to distract her from his watchful eyes. The shot of peach deliciousness did the trick. She turned her back on him and clapped her hands to the music while she paid attention to the people on the dance floor. It wasn’t until she heard a woman call out to him that she swiveled.
The voice belonged to a brunette who had the biggest breasts Colin had ever seen. She was tall and her features were offset by heavy makeup, which was perfectly applied. By the time she came to their table, Colin couldn’t help staring at her. She’d never seen someone up close who wore false eyelashes. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but these had jewels on the end of them. The effect was really cool.
“Ethan, I never thought I’d run into you here.” She leaned across their high-top table and nearly knocked over the empty shot glasses with her ample bosom as she air-kissed him on either side of his cheeks.
Ethan’s expression didn’t change. His eyes gleamed dark and frosty, and when there was a break in the music, he said, “Rachel, this is Colin, Colin, Rachel.”
“Hi, Rachel, pleasure to meet you.”
The woman nodded, but didn’t say anything. At least not to her. She was solely focused on Ethan as she stepped right in front of Colin. “How long are you in town? Are you hosting a party tonight on your island? I didn’t see the lights on at the house.”
Colin was shocked. Ethan owned one of the lake islands? She leaned around the rude woman and nearly fell off her stool. Scrunching up her nose she shouted, “You own one of the islands?”
She was glad to see his lip twitch. Was he going to smile? “Yes, a small one.”
“It’s the biggest one,” Rachel corrected. Although, who she directed this to beat the heck out of Colin. The woman’s eyes were glued to Ethan. Surely he didn’t need to be informed about the size of his property.
For the next five minutes, Rachel carried on quite a conversation with herself. It was really bizarre. She’d begin a sentence with a question and finish it with her own answer.
“You’ll never guess who I ran into in Antibes. David Hollan. I know, I couldn’t believe it. He and Vicki were there. She had some work done, although she says she didn’t and…”
Ethan sat there, nodding occasionally and Colin wondered if he was actually listening to this
drivel. Not her. She’d seen enough of the back of Rachel’s head for one night. The woman’s inane chatter shouted over the music was mega-annoying. Especially when the group of people Colin had spoken with earlier got up to dance. They looked as if they were having a lot of fun. She watched for a few minutes and when a Lenny Kravitz song came on and one of the girls waved to her, she returned the gesture and stood.
“I’ll be back.” She purposely deepened her voice so she sounded like Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator. Rachel didn’t get it, but Ethan did. He leaned around the yammering woman and smiled.
“Where are you going?”
“To dance.”
“Dance?” Geeeeez, by his deep frown you would’ve thought she’d said to kill someone. “With whom?”
“Them.” She hiked a thumb over her shoulder. “It will give you two a chance to catch up.”
Ethan would have made a grab for her if he could, but Rachel was in the way so he was stuck watching her leave as she cut her way through the crowd to the dance floor. Examining her at this distance, he recalled how disappointed he’d been earlier when she’d come out of her room with her hair still tightly confined. Thankfully it wasn’t in a bun, but watching that ponytail swing now, he shook his head because she’d used a series of elastics down the tail length to hold it firmly in place.
He’d quickly gotten over his disappointment on that front, though, when he’d spied her outfit. The snug-fitting jeans and equally snug t-shirt she’d changed into left little doubt that she had a wicked body. A curvy form with generously rounded breasts. The kind of breasts that would sport awesome cleavage and fill his large hands to perfection. There’d be no toss-up about what attribute of hers he’d unwrap first, however, because he’d already planned on setting her hair free pronto. He was trying to imagine what it would look like when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Shifting, he realized Rachel had said something and was waiting for an answer. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted to dance.”
“With you? I mean, no thanks.” That wasn’t very well done of him. He sighed. “Did you come here by yourself, Rach?”