by Diana Hunter
The water shut off in the shower and she still hadn’t taken the steaks out of the fridge downstairs. Feeling very self-conscious, she padded down the stairs, glancing through the sidelights beside the front door to make sure no one could see her, then bolting through the small hall to the kitchen. Big, sliding glass doors led out to a small deck and his tiny backyard, but the drapes were pulled mostly closed and Lauren breathed a sigh of relief.
The summer heat really made clothes unnecessary, she decided. Then she opened the fridge and the blast of colder air made her shiver. Working quickly, she slid out the plastic container holding the marinating steaks and the one holding green peppers and onions that had been cut up for grilling. She set those on the counter, then, on a hunch, picked up the large tomato that sat on the shelf beside them before closing the refrigerator door.
He padded out to her, dressed again in the same slacks and white shirt. She cocked her hand on her hip and gave him a good once-over.
“So the Master gets to dress while the slave girl has to walk around naked?”
John picked up the steaks, heading for the back door. “Yep. I knew you were a smart woman.” He slid the door shut behind him.
Lauren opened and closed her mouth. Twice. There really was no rejoinder to that. She’d asked, he’d answered. Simple as that.
Of course, the more she thought about it, the more she liked it. Served as a sort of symbolism, really. Picking up a bamboo skewer, she slid the vegetables down the shaft, thinking some very naughty thoughts.
John stopped in the doorway on his way back in to get the vegetables. Lauren, completely naked and apparently comfortable with her lack of clothes, stood with her back to him, neatly spearing the peppers and onions onto their respective shafts. She looked—right. As if she’d always been there. As if this was the way life was supposed to be.
He liked the feeling of warmth that filled him, a feeling that had nothing to do with the kinky sex they’d shared all afternoon.
She hummed to herself as she worked, the volume too quiet for him to do more than catch the odd note here and there and he realized she was happy. Had he made her so? His ego would like to think so. He also knew he’d like to make her happy much more often. She deserved that after what she’d been through. Hell, he deserved it too.
Before thoughts of his own demons ruined the mood, John stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. She turned and he loved her profile as much as her rear view. Her breasts, nearly returned to their normal color, stood out in wonderful relief, the nipples gone soft with the lack of stimulation and the day’s heat. Well, he could take care of that.
“I nearly have these done. Are you ready for them?”
“Yep.” He set down the plate he’d used to carry the steaks and came up behind her, encircling her with his arms. She smelled of his soap and shampoo instead of her normal fragrances. While he missed the spices, he kind of liked her smelling like him. Running his hands along her belly and hips, he grinned as she tried to skewer the last pepper and missed.
“Am I bothering your concentration?”
He bent around so he could see her face. She’d tucked her lip between her teeth and focused intently on the kabob in her hands. With great determination, she managed to center the skewer and slide the pepper home.
John took the thin bamboo skewer from her hand and set it gently on the plate with the others. Keeping her back against him, he cupped her breasts, feeling her lean into him. She kept her hands on the counter, making no move to prevent him.
“You are being awfully compliant,” he told her.
“You are being too interesting to stop,” she murmured back.
For answer, he picked up one of the empty skewers and twirled it in his fingers. “What I like about BDSM is that everyday, common items,” being right-handed, he rested the sharp tip against her left breast, “become greater than themselves when brought into play.” Gently he pressed the point against the tender skin of her areola until she gasped. Her hands came up to rest on his, not pushing him away, just following his movements. Encouraged, he traced around her nipple with it, pleased to see it rise to his probing.
She sighed and her head fell heavily against his chest. He could do so much with her right now and forever. But the wind shifted and wafted the smell of steak through the kitchen. Abruptly he dropped his hands, slid one hand against her back to push her upright and picked up the vegetables.
“Hold that thought,” he told her as he headed out the door.
Lauren’s head reeled. How on earth had he reduced her to a quivering mass in less than a minute? She’d been sated not half an hour ago. Sated to the point where she figured she wouldn’t be playing with her toy at home for at least a week.
And a simple pull against the chest, some fondling of her boobs, that damn skewer and her pussy was gushing as if it hadn’t had a cock in years. She picked up the bamboo skewer and eyed it thoughtfully.
Shaking her head, Lauren gathered herself and set the kitchen table. Through the opening in the drapes over the sliding glass doors she could see him out on the deck, flipping one of the steaks up onto the warmer. He looked so…normal. Nothing in his demeanor to show he could melt her into butter with just a touch.
She watched for several minutes, enjoying the way he moved, how he shifted his weight from one side to the other, his back always military-straight, even when relaxed. You could spot a soldier by just the way he stood. Something about posture the boys learned early and carried with them into manhood set them apart and made them special.
Being sure to keep the drapes between her and any neighbors who might be looking this way, Lauren slipped open the door for John as he brought dinner in.
“Smells wonderful. Did you want something to drink?” she asked him.
“In the fridge are some sodas. Regular for me.” He set the plate on the table as Lauren went to the refrigerator and took out two cans of soda. “Regular for the man of the house,” she announced as she set the can beside the glass at his place setting, “and diet for me.”
He held out her chair and, feeling a bit strange sitting down for dinner entirely naked, Lauren took her seat. She hadn’t been able to find any paper napkins, only the cloth ones in the drawer. Glad for the extra-large size, she draped the deep-blue material over her lap, very aware of her nudity.
John, however, didn’t even seem to notice. He held the plate for her as she took the smaller steak on top along with one of the skewers of vegetables. Helping himself, he set the plate down before reaching over and taking her hand.
“This is what it would be like if you ever should choose to take up a totally BDSM lifestyle. Different couples have different protocols, everyone works out what works for them.”
He spoke with complete seriousness. Lauren felt a lump form in her throat and swallowed hard to get rid of it.
“I’m not saying, should we continue, that we’d ever go twenty-four/seven with the Master and slave idea, but I wanted you to get a feel for what it would mean. Do you understand?”
Lauren shook her head. “Not entirely. The whole you-clothed-me-naked thing doesn’t feel extreme. It feels…sexy.”
“Why?”
“Because…” The words weren’t quite there to express the contentment she felt in this middle-class house with its middle-class yard and middle-class kitchen, all of which hid something wild and strange and wonderful. She could be happy here. Saying all that, however, meant taking a step toward a commitment she didn’t want to force John into.
Finally she just shrugged. “It feels sexy probably because it’s different. Something new. Novel.”
Something in his eyes changed, became more reserved. He pulled his hand away and picked up his knife and fork. Had she missed a moment here?
For a while the conversation remained a little strained, or at least, Lauren felt it did. He told tales from the classroom and how he’d always wanted to teach. For her part, Lauren mostly listened, trying to figure out exactly what made John
McAllen tick. Each story gave her clues, but his intentions toward her remained a mystery.
Then, the meal eaten, John leaned back in his chair, swirling the last pieces of ice around in the bottom of his glass. Very little soda remained and he tossed it off as neatly as if it were a shot of whiskey. She decided to ask the question that had been in the back of her mind since before dinner.
“John, you said something before that’s really making me think differently about this.”
He raised an eyebrow and waited.
“What you said about everyday objects having hidden uses.”
John nodded. “And?”
“It’s everywhere, isn’t it? This house, a normal house in a normal neighborhood looking pretty much like every other house on the block. And yet there are whips and chains and wonderful leather cuffs upstairs in the bedroom. And not just for decoration. What we did this afternoon…”
“Wasn’t normal?” he supplied when she fell silent.
“But it was, wasn’t it? Normal. For some people, BDSM stuff is normal.” Lauren shook her head. This wasn’t coming out right.
“Let me try again. Because BDSM isn’t considered normal by the general populace, this house hides a secret. Just like the bamboo kabob skewer holds a secret. Just like I hold a secret.”
He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his hand close enough to touch her. And yet it didn’t. “What is your secret, Lauren?”
“I think all this secrecy…is incredibly sexy.” She blushed and lowered her voice to make the admission out loud. As a result, she missed the fleeting smile that dimpled his cheek before he caught himself.
“So, keeping our sex life private is a turn-on for you?”
Lauren started to nod, then stopped. “Not totally private. Beth and Sarah know.”
“As do two friends of mine.”
She grinned at that. “I feel like I’ve been let into a wonderful secret club. One that I always knew existed, but didn’t know how to go about entering.”
“Remind me later and I’ll teach you the secret handshake.”
“There’s a secret handshake?” Lauren looked surprised and when John laughed she realized she’d been gulled.
“Okay, wise guy. For that, you can wash dishes.” Standing, she collected the plates as he pushed his chair back.
“I thought I was the one to give the orders around her.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll dry and put away. You, however, can get your fingers all wrinkly.”
She set the dishes beside the sink. His arms went around on either side of her, a glass in each hand. That wonderful feeling of warmth and protection stole over her again. He lifted her hair to place a kiss at the nape of her neck and she rolled her eyes as her knees went weak—again. Damn, but what he could do to her with such simple little touches!
She turned around, her arms going up around his neck. As she did, she noticed the time on the wall clock and her brow furrowed. “How on earth did it get to be seven o’clock already?”
“Time flies when you’re having fun?”
“Time doesn’t exist when you’re having fun’s more like it.” Smiling seductively and pressing her naked body against the wonderful expanse of his chest, she made a suggestion. “You have a dishwasher, I see. We could just put these in there and find something else to do with our time.”
He laughed and kissed her soundly. Her lips parted as his lips bruised hers, she welcomed the dance of tongues as her stomach fluttered all over again. Hadn’t they just had an entire afternoon of sex? How on earth could she be so brazen as to want more?
“I think I awakened a sleeping tiger,” he said when the kiss ended.
Lauren nodded. “I think you did too.”
“Then perhaps we should just let the dishes sit right where they are.”
With a flourish, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes. She squealed, more in surprise than protest. How could she protest anything he did to her after proving himself so many times already?
He didn’t take her upstairs, however. John stopped in the entranceway and set her down, feet first on the tiled floor. He made sure she stood steady before he stepped back. “Are you ready to take this to the next level?”
Lauren studied him, trying to read his suddenly serious gaze. He’d asked a question but she sensed a challenge underneath. What the heck, everything had gone so far beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of. She shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
John took another step back and gestured to the stairs. “Up you go.” He waited until she got to the bottom of the stairs before adding, “On your knees.”
“Really?”
He only waited. With a small shake of her head, she knelt on the first step and started up. By the time she reached the fifth step, she apparently had decided to enjoy herself and she shook her ass invitingly, turning each step gained into a sensuous, inviting dance.
John hid his grin. Yeah, Lauren not only took what he dished out, she turned it around and gave it back to him tenfold. He’d listened to Phillip and Will talk about their wives that way, but until now, he hadn’t really understood what they meant when they said Sarah and Jill really kept the playing field level.
She’d nearly reached the top and John took the stairs slowly behind her, enjoying the sway of her ass. Her body bore little trace of the marks he’d put on her before. That was good. Coloring that heart-shaped ass could easily become a habit.
“Into the bedroom,” he instructed when she paused in the small hallway. Three doors opened off this tiny area, one to the bathroom, one to another bedroom he used as a study and of course, the one to his bedroom. She flung an amused look over her shoulder and turned to the left, heading straight for the foot of the bed. She paused there and John realized she awaited his orders.
He came around in front of her, holding out a hand to help her up. “Come here,” he told her and she took his hand and, in one fluid movement, stood and slid into his arms. She felt so comfortable to hold. He savored the moment, pulling her in so her head rested against his chest, his arms encircling her, loving the fact that she stood here, still naked, still willing, still his.
“I know we have a lot of details to work out,” he said quietly, his gaze looking into the future. “If you’re willing, though…” His voice trailed off. How did he ask the woman he was falling in love with if she wanted to be his slave? And was that really what he wanted?
She stirred and he released his hold enough for her to look up at him. Trust shone in her eyes. “I’d like that. To work out the details, I mean.” She snuggled back into place. “I’m in no hurry to make any decisions and am perfectly willing to see where this goes.”
“Even if it goes all the way to a Master/slave relationship?” God, that sounded so cold, even to him.
She sighed and he realized it signified contentment as she burrowed even closer. “Even if it goes all the way to a Master/slave relationship.”
For a moment, he couldn’t speak. Still somewhat stunned, he stepped back and tilted her chin up to look directly into her eyes. He saw only truth and trust reflected there. Pulling her close again, he shook his head. “Lauren, you are one hell of a woman. I am not going to let you go.”
Her arms went around his waist. “The feeling’s mutual. I know a good man when I see one.” Her head popped up as one hand snaked around to toy with his cock, the thin pants shielding him not at all. “And a good man is hard to find.”
John laughed as his cock stirred with her gentle teases. “Into the bed then, slave.”
“Your command is my wish, Master!” With a quick turn, she bounded over the footboard and onto the mattress. The summer comforter bunched under her where they’d left it after their last session and she pushed it down to the bottom of the bed as he stripped off his shirt and slid down his pants to reveal what she’d done to him.
“You are a minx one minute and a sexpot the next,” he told her as he climbed in beside her to pull
her into his arms again.
“A woman of mystery always intrigues a man,” she murmured before his kisses stopped her from speaking anything further.
He loved the way she melted into him, her body sliding into all the right places. She smelled of his cologne now, of his soap and shampoo. He rather enjoyed the musky scent of sex that clung to her, or perhaps he had newly aroused out of her. Her hands roamed over his back, urging him onward, and he obliged.
The spot where her neck met her shoulders provided him with a very interesting noise from the back of her throat. He paused there to nibble and suck at it until she arched her back and cried out. His blood ran hot and he slid his hand down her belly and between her legs, pulling them apart.
He wanted her. Like an animal in heat, he wanted to sink his cock into her and take possession of what she so freely offered. She spread her legs wide for him.
For her, he wanted to be gentle, to be loving and kind. To take her like the men did in the romance books, with care more for her than for him.
But the time for that was past. He wanted her around him. He needed her to complete him. When she raised her hips and whispered, “Please, now. Take me, John,” he didn’t hesitate. With a single plunge, he slid inside the warm wetness she had waiting for him.
He groaned as the tightness of her pussy first resisted then gave way to his persistence. Out and in, out and in, his thoughts faded into the oblivion of lust. Beneath him, she cried out, her legs wrapping around his waist as he rode her hard, pushing deep into her pussy, stretching her to hold his cock.
He felt his balls bunch and he savored the sweet moment. The stop between life and death that was the closest humans could come to touching heaven. One heartbeat. Two. A third and he was over, his body pressing into hers of its own accord, their cries coming in tandem as her pussy contracted around his cock.
And when it was done, he lay exhausted, her breasts a pillow for his head. Sighing with contentment, he drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Fourteen