by Various
He’d known a lot of women who were self-sufficient and made their way in the world. But in Bree Donovan he sensed an inner strength that made her a unique individual, even while she might submit to him—subject herself to his domination. He’d heard enough people say that when you met the right person for you, it didn’t take long to know it. Could he even acknowledge that it might be happening here for him? A lot would depend on how today and tomorrow went.
He had planned a leisurely driving tour of the area, showing her some of the bigger ranches, the historical sights, places of interest. She showed excitement about everything, asking a lot of questions and taking pictures with her cell phone. He got such a kick out of her enjoyment. She helped him see everything old through new eyes. The nice thing about it, she didn’t pretend. She was really having fun, and in her excitement, asked a lot of intelligent questions.
She was definitely the whole package. If he could figure out how to get her to submit…and enjoy it.
Well, he’d worry about that later.
About the time his stomach rumbled and he assumed Bree had to be getting hungry, too. He stopped at a specialty foods store he used for client baskets and picked up a special order.
"What’s in there?" she asked when he carried it to the back seat. He’d had the owner completely wrap it in bags so nothing could be seen.
"Patience." He grinned. "All will soon be revealed."
She gasped when he drove through the stone gateposts of Double Bluff Winery. He’d chosen this one over others in the area, partially because of the magnificent view and partially because the winery had a lawn, picnic space as well as tables.
"Oh, Rafe, this place is gorgeous." She leaned forward, closer to the windshield, as if it could somehow enhance her view.
"Wait until you see the rest of it." He chuckled. "This is one of my favorite places." He pulled into a parking space, climbed out and came around to help her down. "Come on. Let’s go inside first. Then I’ve got something special planned."
Like a kid at a party, she touched everything, admired the cool interior of the tasting room, the stone walls and floor, the array of gifts, the décor of the tasting bar. The young girl behind the bar greeted them with an enthusiastic smile and started her pitch.
Rafe held up a hand. "Save it, darlin’. I’m already sold. We’ll do your full tasting and then get a bottle or two of whatever the lady likes."
Bree had obviously done this before. Of course. They had wine shops in Chicago, right? She savored the tiny bit of each wine, inhaling the fragrance before letting the liquid roll around on her tongue. Chewing thoughtfully on one of the small crackers between each taste to cleanse her palate. Rafe enjoyed watching her as much as he did doing his own tasting. Maybe more.
He grinned when she chose the muscat canelli, his own personal favorite.
"I knew we had a lot in common." To the girl he said, "Give us two bottles."
Capturing Bree’s hand he tugged her along as he walked back to the truck, then gave her the wine sack.
"You’ll need to hold this so I can get the rest of our stuff."
She watched him, a look of amusement on her face, while he fetched the food basket and a folded quilt from the back seat of the cab.
"This way," he told her, and led her past the building, past the picnic tables both under cover and in the open, to the large grassy area that overlooked the vineyards. Setting the basket down, he spread out the quilt, then put the basket on one corner. He turned to take the wine from Bree and found her staring openmouthed at the view.
"My god, Rafe. This is beyond breathtaking."
"That it is." He went to stand beside her. "I love it because the buildings themselves are up here on this level, where you drive in. But then you walk out to the edge of the lawn and it’s a bluff overlooking the vineyard itself."
He casually slid an arm around her as they looked down at the rows ands rows of vines, the leaves gleaming in the afternoon sun.
"Is this how the place got its name?" she asked. "Because of the bluff?"
"That’s what their literature says. But the real story is the guy they bought it from years ago, won it in a poker game in a double bluff."
She laughed, the sound like the soft tinkling of bells in a wind and again he thought what a sexy laugh she had.
"That is so Texas."
"It’s what makes us unique," he agreed. "Come on. I have goodies."
They’d filled the basket--as he’d ordered, with bites of cheese and salami, fresh grapes and strawberries. And for dessert an assortment of cookies. Bree’s unrestrained delight had him wondering what she did for fun back in Chicago. Or if she did anything.
He held his breath for a moment when he ordered her to lie back and let him feed her. Would she do it, or had he misread the soft signals? Did he need to ask her or could she possibly be willing to test out the touches of submission? She hesitated for the briefest second and as he decided to casually brush it off, she gave him a peculiar look, stretched out on the quilt, arms behind her head, and winked at him.
"All right. As you wish. Do what you will."
She had no idea what a double-edged sword those words were. If they weren’t out here, in a public place, he’d do what he wanted all right. He’d make her take off her clothes and present her body to him for all his wicked desires. But one step at a time.
The afternoon turned out to be one of the most pleasant he’d spent in a very long time. Also one of the most erotic. He fed her each bite of food slowly, holding her head up to give her tiny sips of wine in between. By the time they finished the first bottle of wine, Bree had relaxed enough that he chanced stealing tiny kisses along her cheek and her neck. When she didn’t protest, he nibbled the lobe of her ear and traced the shell with his tongue. He didn’t miss the shiver that raced over her, or the way she squeezed her legs together. Well into the second bottle, he licked the hollow at the base of her throat and ran his tongue over the pulse beating there.
Beneath the soft fabric of her blouse and whatever material her bra was made of, he could see her nipples harden and peak. If they hadn’t been out in the open he’d have closed his mouth over each of them, material and all, and sucked hard. From the heat in her eyes, he had a feeling Bree wouldn’t have objected too much, either.
At one point he slid his hand around to where her arms were crossed behind her head and wrapped his fingers around her wrists. One of his legs draped lazily over hers, effectively trapping her in place. If she objected to his taking control that way, she didn’t say a word. Only heat flared in her eyes, a flash of something he couldn’t quite name, but made his shaft even harder.
By the time they got to the cookies he changed methods, taking one in his mouth, holding the edge with his teeth and leaning down so she could bite from the other end. When their mouths met in the middle of the cookie he licked the crumbs from her lips. He swallowed a smile when he saw the tempo of her pulse increase at the hollow of her throat.
He had fed subs before, seen others order their subs to feed them, but he couldn’t ever remember anything quite this sexy. He didn’t know any more who was taking charge here.
By late afternoon they were sated on food and pleasantly buzzed on the wine. Rafe changed position and stretched out beside Bree, leaning on his elbow, his head braced on his hand. He had watched with pleasure as she relaxed more with the passing of each hour, giving herself up to him little by little. Her body didn’t look quite so tense, as if expecting trouble. She forgot to be as tightly on guard. Smiled more frequently. Laughed often. And showed pure pleasure in everything they did.
He’d been right last night. The tightly wound Domme secretly wanted a little domination. She might not want to admit it, but all the signs were there. The signals. The possibilities made him so hard, his balls ached. Thankfully, he didn’t have to get up and walk yet.
"So tell me, Bree Donovan," he began. "Didn’t you ever wonder what it might be like if you reversed roles? If you let
someone else take charge? Arouse you with punishment, restrain you for his pleasure and yours?"
Heat flashed in her eyes and they deepened to a dark mossy green. She swallowed then drew her tongue along her lower lip. Rafe’s dick begged for freedom and his body burned with frustration.
"Well?" he prompted.
"I, uh, well, maybe." She looked away from him. "I mean, sure. Sometimes. Just as an idle thought. You know."
"Yeah, I do." He ran his thumb along her jaw line. "I have a big house with a great big bed in it. Fleece-lined cuffs that have your name on them."
She laughed. "They do? My name? Now how did they even know I’d be in the area?"
"They’re very smart handcuffs. Oh, and there’s a brand new paddle that hasn’t kissed an inch of anyone’s skin yet. I think it’s been waiting for you, too. First contact, you know?"
"That’s quite a line you’ve got there, Morales. Anyone ever tell you that?"
"Maybe. Only I’ve never used quite this exact line on anyone before." He leaned over and brushed his mouth lightly over hers.
"People are watching," she murmured against his mouth.
He turned his head slightly. "Nah, they’re all too busy with their own activities. Besides, we have our back to everyone. They can’t see me stealing kisses."
She giggled. "I think that qualified as one kiss. And we probably should stop."
"Spoilsport." He lifted his head. "So what do you say? Want to come up and see my restraints?"
"No etchings, huh?"
"I do, but they aren’t nearly as interesting." He leaned his head close to hers again. "Come on, Bree. Kick over the traces for one night. Aren’t you curious to try things from the other side of the coin? For one night?"
"I had a very good Master who trained me," she told him. "He put me through all the paces. I know what it’s like being a sub."
He leaned over, his fingers wrapped around her wrists, holding her hands over her head. "But I’ll bet you still looked at it as a Domme, not from the mindset of a sub. Right? Why not try it? You never know. You might enjoy it."
He held his breath as she searched his eyes, as if seeking some specific answer.
"All right," she said at last. "What can I lose, right?"
He let all that breath out slowly. "Nothing. If I’m right, nothing at all."
"You have to promise me no Christmas music or decorations, though."
"You’re in luck. I haven’t taken the time to decorate. No reason to. And I’m all out of Christmas music. But be warned. I’m going to find a way to keep you from being a Grinch."
"You’re welcome to try."
"And I will," he told her in a voice so soft only he could hear it.
Chapter Four
Rafe’s house sat on considerable acreage outside the city of Austin, a rambling piece of land dotted with oak, mesquite and mountain cedar. Enough land so his neighbors were a good distance away.
"Close enough for business, far enough away for privacy," he told her.
The house, a long, low rambling ranch-style made of limestone and adobe, had big picture windows that reflected back the late afternoon sun while ancient oaks shaded the house from excessive heat. The shrubbery, Bree noticed, was kept to a minimum but totally appropriate for the rustic environment.
"Oh, stop, Rafe! Look!"
He slammed on the brakes in the driveway and shoved the gearshift into Park. "What’s wrong?"
"Nothing. Just look." She sat up straighter in the cab and lowered her window. "Over there. Deer." She pointed to the right where a small group of deer nibbled at the leaves on a low-hanging branch.
"Be real quiet. They spook easily."
"They’re so beautiful," she whispered. "I’ve never seen any except in the movies."
"There are herds of white tail deer around here. All over the Hill Country, as a matter of fact."
"And look! Holy crap! Are those real roadrunners?" Two birds that looked exactly like the cartoons, with the crest on their heads and the long tail feathers, scurried across the ground.
"Lots of wildlife around here. Sometimes I like to sit quietly on the back porch in the morning with my coffee and take it all in."
"I envy you." And surprisingly, she did. Until today—or maybe until Chad—she’d been sure that her high rise condo, her club memberships, her exclusive groups of friends, the perks of her job were all she’d ever need in life to keep her happy.
"You know, you’re really a stone bitch."
Out of nowhere Chad’s voice from the day he’d come to get his things blasted into her brain. "You’re all about control for pleasure, but you don’t give two fucks about anyone’s pleasure but your own. You’re a user, Bree. And I’m not letting you use me anymore."
Shock still gripped her every time she thought about that confrontation, the last thing she expected. They had been together three years. After two he’d moved into her condo with her. Most of the time they played at home, but every so often they decided on a night out at Perfection. She discovered Chad’s latent exhibitionism when he begged her for a performance opportunity, and she’d been glad to grant it. To show him off to everyone.
How had she misread him so badly after such a long time?
"I’d give a penny for those thoughts," Rafe interrupted, "but it doesn’t look like they’re worth that much."
She gave herself a mental shake. "They aren’t, believe me." Digging deep, she pulled out a smile and forced herself to relax. "Well, are we going to sit in the driveway all night? Where’s this big huge bed you bragged about?"
He flashed a grin, pushed the button for the garage door opener and rolled into the attached garage.
"I’m so glad you’re anxious to see it."
But what caused the butterfly tap dance in her stomach--expectation or anxiety? She was about to dip her toe into strange waters. Her pulse pounded in anticipation and her crotch certainly felt damp. Did she do this to prove Chad Sullivan wrong, that she wasn’t a controlling bitch? Or as an adventure, once and done? Or because she had a latent hunger to submit to this man.
She didn’t even know if she wanted the answer. But she did know she wanted to find out before she changed her mind.
Rafe’s house was big like everything else about him. The rooms were spacious with high ceilings, the furniture meant for comfort. Everything had an old world look and feel to it, except the huge flat screen television on the wall opposite the extra long couch. Seeing it made her laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep inside her.
"You mock my television?" One corner of his mouth crooked up in a sexy smile.
"I always think the size of a man’s television screen is in direct inverse proportion to the size of his penis."
Oops! Where did that come from?
"Is that right?" he moved in front of her at once, crowding her space. "I’m going to give you a chance to find out. Probably eat your words. In more ways than one."
"Is that so?" He was so close to her she could hardly breathe. Every muscle in her bod tightened, every nerve snapped.
"Uh huh. But first I’m gonna do this."
His kiss this time, power, control, no mere whispery touch or gentle caress, but a full out assault on her mouth. His tongue licked every inch of her lips before forcing its way inside. He explored every interior surface, even the edges of her teeth, coaxing her to thrust and parry.
He gripped her shoulders as he plundered, devoured, sucked and took. Bree could hardly breathe, every bit of air trapped in her lungs, her blood so hot it burned in her veins. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever really kissed anyone. Or had been kissed.
Something she didn’t want to think about or have intrude on this very erotic moment. Instead she simply lost herself in the pleasure of his kiss and the hard grip of Rafe’s hands holding her in place.
When he lifted his head she was dazed, staring at him and trying to focus.
"Uh," she managed.
"My thoughts exactly. Jesus, lady,
you pack an unbelievable punch." He lifted her in his arms. "We need to take this out of the living room."
Every bit as large as he’d led her to believe, his bedroom could hold two rooms within it. The massive bed had to have been specially made. The headboard, carved to look like an antique, had a row of intricate spindles, the woodwork matched by the short posts at the foot of the bed.
Rafe placed her on the edge of the mattress and lifted her feet one at a time, sliding off her boots and standing them to the side. Then he lifted her to her feet and stared at her for a long moment.
"Take off your clothes." The softness left his voice. He’d shifted into his role as Dom, exerting his authority.
A ribbon of excitement wriggled through her. Normally she gave the orders, but being on the receiving end sent a thrill of excitement through her more intense than she could have imagined.
She focused on his face and slowly undid the buttons on her blouse, tugged the tails from her waistband and slid the fabric from her shoulders. Unsure what to do with it, she folded it and placed it on a corner of the bed. Bra next? Jeans? Did he have a specific order he wanted the clothing removed?
Rafe leaned against the long dresser, arms folded across his chest, legs crossed at the ankles. "I want to see your nipples."
Okay. The bra.
She reached behind to unhook the clasp, pushed the straps down her arms and set the garment on top of her blouse.
"Hold your tits out for me," he ordered. "Rub your thumbs over your nipples. Do it, Bree."
Hands shaking slightly, she did as he asked, cupping her breasts and brushing her thumbs over the sensitized buds. She had certainly touched herself before. She did it often in the shower or the bath, replaying a scene in her head and using her own touch to stimulate and satisfy herself. But Rafe ordering her to do it gave it a newer intensity. A more electric thrill. The exhibitionism aroused her more than she could have imagined. She certainly knew how it affected her when one of her subs did it, but did it stimulate them the same way? Did displaying her body this way excite her or did following orders, knowing someone else held the reins, ramp things up?