by Various
Rafe tossed the bag with her other clothes in the back seat, then boosted her up in the front.
"Man, shopping really works up an appetite, doesn’t it?"
She couldn’t help laughing. "Even when all you do is watch?"
"Especially then." He winked and cranked over the engine.
The restaurant turned out to be everything he promised. The dining room with had high ceilings but walls divided the large room into smaller segments. Rafe was right, tough, that the real place to be was on the veranda, overlooking the river. They sat right by the railing and she could hear the water rushing along below them. A soft breeze freshened the air and wild birds sang in the trees on the bank across from them.
The food, too, more than met expectations. Bree ate until stuffed; protesting that she’d consumed enough to keep her going for the next week. Rafe merely gave her a knowing smile.
He had none of the possessive air of a Dom about him today, yet she had the feeling he still maintained control. Always directing and manipulating. Since he did it in such a charming manner, she found it hard to be annoyed.
They spent a lazy afternoon sightseeing. Rafe stopped at a ranch owned by a friend of his, to show her the cutting horses they bred. He explained about their use on a working ranch. They visited another winery, but this time they only did the tasting, no picnic. And they hit other places of interest.
When her stomach began to growl, even after the huge brunch she’d eaten, she checked her watch and realized it was almost seven.
"I hate to put a damper on things," she said, "but I should get back to my hotel. I need to pack to leave in the morning."
"What time’s your plane?"
"Noon."
"Then we have time for dinner first. Come on. You have to taste some good old Texas chili."
The restaurant, like the shopping area, had a quaint and rustic look. Mouthwatering aromas filled the air. Bree only managed one bowl of chili while Rafe put away two. She tried to protest when he ordered fried ice cream for dessert.
"Fried?" She raised an eyebrow.
"The best kind. Got to have something to cool the heat in your mouth," he pointed out.
"But fried?"
"Wait until you taste it. We’ll share."
Which they did, dipping their spoons into the creamy homemade creation. And it didn’t disappoint. Bree savored the taste as the flavor burst on her tongue.
She had decided Rafe changed his mind about discussing the night before, when he pushed the bowl away and leaned toward her, resting his elbows on the table.
"You think before we pack it in you want to tell me what’s got you by the tail? What’s in Chicago that you aren’t all that anxious to get back to?"
Bree stared at him, muscles tensing. No, she didn’t want to tell him. Or anyone else who didn’t already know about it.
"I don’t think so. Anyway, what makes you think that’s the case?"
"Darlin’, I’d like to think it was my incredible sexual magnetism and good looks that swept you off your feet the past two nights, but we both know your shields were down or what happened never would have happened."
"It’s nothing. It’s over."
"But I’m the perfect one to chew it over with. We’ll probably never see each other again so whatever you say to me goes in one ear and into the garbage."
Never see each other again? Why did that give her such a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach?
"I thought I had a good relationship, but it ended very badly." Now why did she have to blurt that out? She needed a lock for her mouth.
"I think we’ve all been there, Bree. But this one hit you hard for some reason."
"It did." And then her story came tumbling out, like clothes jammed too tightly into a closet. "I’ve always considered myself a good Domme. Caring. Loving, even. Considerate of my subs and respectful. I know I have a controlling aspect to my personality, but that’s a major reason why I’m a Domme."
"Okay." He sat quietly, watching her.
"Chad and I were together for a very long time. He even moved into my condo with me. I thought we had the perfect relationship. He wasn’t one for a lot of D/s exposure in public and neither was I. He’s an intelligent man, successful in his own right, and I have enormous respect for that. Or I did. So we kept that aspect of our relationship behind the doors of our home."
She stopped and fiddled with her water glass.
"And then something happened." He guessed.
"It did indeed."
She described in every painful detail, walking into Perfection where she and Chad had agreed to meet that night, only to find him the center of a performance with two other women. When she spoke to the dungeon master about it, he’d simply shrugged and told her Chad had requested it himself and signed the agreement.
"But it got worse." She began idly shredding the paper napkin. "He didn’t come home that night so I went to find him at his office the next day."
A scene she’d never forget. Controlling bitch had been among the nicer things he’d said about her.
Rafe remained quiet when she finished, studying his hands. Then he looked up.
"That’s a truly destructive situation," he told her. "But I have to think the flaw is with him, not you. He gave you his commitment, his submission, everything for all that time. You weren’t a stranger to him when the two of you met. For him to flip out like that?" He shook his head. "No, I’m, guessing the flaw is in him, not you."
"How can you say that? You hardly even know me."
"I’ve had to learn how to be a good judge of character," he said. "In my business you can’t afford to guess wrong about someone. If you do, it can cost you and others a whole bunch of money. And I don’t see any of those things this Chad idiot accused you of."
"Maybe I’m just good enough to fool you," she pointed out.
He leaned in even more. "When you strip someone down to the bare essentials, Bree, you know pretty quickly exactly who and what they are. I’m not wrong." He leaned back in his chair. "But I’ll give you a couple of my observations."
"Uh, oh." She forced a smile. "Am I going to hate this?"
"I don’t know. You listen and then tell me." He paused while the waitress brought their coffee. "I see you as a strong woman with an excellent reputation in her chosen career. One who can be firm without being obnoxious about it. Oh, yeah. I checked you out myself. When Emilio told me you’d asked for an invite, it piqued my curiosity. A high-powered career woman from Chicago coming to a munch here? You bet I was curious."
"But—"
He held up a hand. "I’m not finished here. A woman who has earned the right to be confidant, but who maybe needs to lean on someone else once in a while. Just give the reins over to a person she can trust. At the munch and last night, you let a different side of you come out to play. Am I right? Did I hit the nail on the head?"
Bree didn’t know what to say. He’d forced her, with a few words and a very calm manner, to reexamine both herself and the situation with Chad. Could he be right? Did she really want the chance, in the right situation, to fall into the role of a sub, even for a little while?
Then he said, "And I’m honored that I’m the one you chose to play with."
She nibbled her lower lip while she tried to organize her thoughts. "I don’t know how to answer you. I think it might just be the circumstances here. What happened could very well be a once and done."
He dipped his head. "It might be."
She gave a nervous little laugh. "Aren’t you even going to argue with me about it?"
"What for? You could be right," he leaned forward again. "But you might not. Don’t you want to find out?"
She shrugged. "It’s a moot point. I’m going back to Chicago tomorrow and there isn’t a single person there I’d trust to put myself in that situation with. Not one." She added sweetener to her coffee and stirred it. "And what about you? Have you ever wanted to be in a reverse role? Give over control to another person
?"
"Not that I can remember. But maybe I hadn’t found the right person. Someone I’d feel comfortable enough doing it with. And I’m not saying it has to be a permanent thing. But think how great it would be for two people who have such strong feelings for each other, such a huge amount of trust, that they can both be willing to switch now and then." When she didn’t say anything, he added, "Something for you to think about."
"Well," she sighed, "in any event, as far as you and I are concerned, like I said, tomorrow I’m back to the Windy City."
"You’ll be back," he reminded her. "For client meetings. And planes fly both ways, you know."
Her eyes widened. "Are you saying you’re going to fly to Chicago? To see me?"
He lifted a shoulder. "I’m not saying anything, merely stating a fact." He lifted a hand to signal for the waitress. "Meanwhile that coffee’s ice cold by now and more bitter than a witch’s brew, and I need to get you back to your hotel. Make sure you get a good night’s sleep."
Oh yeah? I think you just made sure I wouldn’t.
*****
"Don’t forget your hat." Rafe reached into the back seat of the truck and took out the Stetson, along with her bag of yesterday’s clothes. "I’d say it fits you pretty damn well."
She grinned at him. "Is that what I should tell my boss when I wear it to work tomorrow?"
"Whatever works. He might actually get a kick out of it."
He walked her across the street, carefully watching for traffic, and into the hotel lobby. At the elevator she stopped and turned to him.
"I’d ask you up to my room, but—"
"But you’d rather just keep the memories of the past two nights and so would I." He tugged on the brim of her Stetson. "Don’t forget to keep wearing that hat."
"Okay."
"Time to get ready for Christmas," he reminded her.
"Are you kidding?" She arched an eyebrow. "I’m the Grinch this year, remember? Bah, humbug and all that. No Christmas cheer for me."
"That’s no way to get ready for the holidays. What if someone gives you a really great present, all tied up with a bow on it? Something to cheer you up?"
"It could be tied up six ways from Sunday, and it wouldn’t matter," she assured him. "I’m done with all that. If I could avoid the parties where I have to make an obligatory appearance, I’d do that, too. Believe me, I’m in no mood to drink a toast to people who have very little meaning in my life. And I’m definitely not ready to attend any of the functions at Perfection or with the people I usually hang with."
"Come on, now," he protested. "You must at least have a friend you can console yourself with. What is it women like to do? Oh, yeah. Put on old PJs and watch chick flicks while drinking wine and eating popcorn."
She threw back her head and laughed, the sound going straight to his balls. "Been spending a lot of time with weepy women, have you?"
"No, but I listen to gossip." He grinned. "Most men do."
"You’re not most men, and I don’t hang out like that."
A look of sadness crossed her face, and he wondered if it meant she had no one close to her that she could do those things with. That in itself was a sad fact. It should have jumped out at him when he Google-stalked her, that every single thing he found had been business-related. Even on the private BDSM loops in the Chicago area, he could dig up very little personal information about her, other than her profile as a Domme. There had been absolutely nothing that gave him a clue about her personally, and that should have been a clue in itself.
Maybe all of that caused that quick flash of sadness she’d quickly concealed. It made him want to fix whatever pain she felt, and that wasn’t like him at all.
"I’d ask if my makeup was smeared," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "Except I’m not wearing any."
He smiled, wanting to make her smile back in return.
"No. Taking a last look here. That’s all."
And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he took her in his arms and gave her a kiss that would keep him warm in a lonely bed tonight. His hands were firm where they gripped her shoulders, pulling her tight against him so she could feel the hardness and thickness of his shaft. His tongue danced over the plump surface of her lips and he sucked hard at her warm, moist mouth that tasted of seductive sweetness. He ate at it and drank from her like a man who’d never get food or water again.
When he let her go it turned out to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
She walked into the elevator and turned so she could look at him. As the doors slid closed, she lifted a hand and blew him a kiss.
Gone.
He walked slowly back to his truck, for once in no hurry to return to his empty house.
The November night was typically Texas cool, but Rafe lowered the windows so he could catch a breeze as he drove. Maybe the wind would blow the cobwebs out of his mind and help him think clearly. Because the thoughts currently running around in his brain didn’t line up with his usual thinking at all.
Friday night at the munch, the allure of Bree Donovan had been almost purely sexual. Almost, because he sensed she kept a shield around herself. And she had been in the company of virtual strangers, trying to be on her best behavior. He didn’t miss the unspoken sexual chemistry that blazed between them from the moment he greeted her at the edge of the patio. He saw in her eyes at once that she felt it as much as he did.
He almost lost her when he thought she wouldn’t stay for the performance. But then she did, and he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t keep from touching her. Whispering in her ear. Rubbing her cunt through her jeans until a small orgasm ripped through her. For some reason she hadn’t stopped him, and a connection forged, whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not.
He wasn’t the only one who had enjoyed the past two days. Or every minute of last night. He’d pushed her boundaries because he’d sensed that latent, well-hidden need in her to turn the tables sexually, even for one night. It had been worth every minute, not just for him, but for her also. It astonished him that at his age and with all of his experience, the orgasm he’d had with her had been more intense than anything he could remember in a long time.
God, simply remembering the feel of that hot, tight pussy gripping him like a wet fist made him hard again. Holding back until the last possible moment had tested his self control to its limits. But the orgasm, when he came with her, nearly blew off the top of his head. It had taken several long moments for him to gather himself enough to get off the bed, dispose of the condom and prepare to give her the aftercare she so richly deserved.
Even now, as he drove out of the city to the quieter area of the outskirts, aware she’d leave in the morning, he wanted her as fiercely as he had before. It took all his self control not to turn around and head back to the hotel. Bang on her door to let him in. Strip off her clothes and spank that beautiful ass until it turned redder than Santa’s suit. Handcuff her to the bed so she was completely helpless and then fuck her blind.
Jesus!
He reached between his thighs and pressed his palm against his swelling cock and aching balls. If he didn’t stop this he’d be a mess by the time he got home.
Not that he hadn’t been strongly attracted to other women or had long term relationships. Of course he had. But long term was a relative description. Bree had been with this Chad idiot for years, not months, the way he measured time in his relationships. But even as he’d settled into a routine with a sub, he had never seen it as anything permanent. He liked his space. His privacy. The freedom to do as he pleased. And he always made that very clear. There would be both a beginning and an end. Eventually, he’d move on.
Yet with Bree, if they ever got together like that, while he could clearly see a beginning, there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. He saw infinite possibilities. All the elements that would comprise their relationship, jumped into his mind. He easily imagined waking up in bed with her every morning and going to sleep with her at night. Spending
lazy weekends doing absolutely nothing, and intense nights with her restrained and punished in every conceivable way.
He had studied Shibari under one of the Doms in their group, although he’d used it rarely. Still, in his mind he saw Bree in one of her professional outfits, going to work, meeting with clients, her boss, friends. And beneath that clothing an intricately wound Shibari pattern with a knot tightly pressed against her clit. When she walked it would rub against the sensitive bundle of tissue, and when she sat it would press against it just enough to keep her constantly wet and aroused.
He wanted her to wear a butt plug as she went about her business, the fullness of it stretching her so when he took her at night he could easily plunge his cock into her ass. Or maybe he’d slide a vibrator into that sweet pussy on a day they were out doing errands together. Whenever the spirit moved him he could press a remote he’d have hidden in his pocket and he’d see a violent shiver race over her as she tried to control her response.
Stop it, you asshole. Don’t do this to yourself or you’ll be like some horny teenager jacking off in your truck. And how would that look if someone happened to see you?
Besides, tomorrow she’d be gone. To her home and her life hundreds of miles and an entire culture away. Call him when she came back to town again? By then she probably wouldn’t even remember his name or the incredible weekend they’d spent together. Maybe. Or maybe not.
And when it came down to it, she was still a Domme. Always would be. A Mistress, just as he would always be a Master. But she had enjoyed switching roles with him. Could it even be possible for him to do the same thing with her? How could it ever work with two such strong personalities always battling for control?
Although, he supposed if a person wanted something badly enough, they could always find a solution. Still….
He thought back over all the relationships he’d had, both the ones that were purely for playtime and those that had extended for weeks and months. He realized now something had always been missing. That took nothing away from the subs. They excited him, appealed to him and suited their role perfectly. But he always lost interest, with some more quickly than others. Did all those relationships have a missing element, the one he hadn’t realized he’d needed?