What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 2)

by Vi Keeland

  I managed to be on time to work. Leslie had already left a voicemail message, demanding the details of my ‘date’. I had already started punching in her extension number when it occurred to me I couldn’t really tell her much of anything.

  Jake had asked that we keep the dominant submissive aspect of our relationship confidential. But I had already told Leslie that I was meeting someone from a BDSM website; I just hadn’t told her who.

  I hung up the phone, trying to figure out just what I would say to her when I saw her. The phone had no more than left my hand when it rang, making me jump. I snatched my hand away as if I’d been burned by the sound.

  The call went to voicemail. As soon as the message light began blinking I punched in the access code and listened to the message. It was Leslie. I deleted the message, deciding I would deal with her later. There was a client meeting to prep for and as distracted as I was over Jake, I didn’t think I could afford to spend any time right now thinking about Leslie.

  By the time I finished with meetings, emails and making client phone calls, it was well past my usual lunch time. There were a few more messages from Leslie, one from late morning asking if I wanted to grab lunch. With a stab of guilt, I deleted them all.

  I grabbed my purse, intending to head down to the commissary in the basement of the building. The food was stale and tasteless, but I was in too much of a rush to care. And I wanted to avoid Leslie.

  But best laid plans often go awry. Leslie was just coming out of the elevator on my floor. There was nowhere to hide so I put on a big smile, intercepting her before she could start in with her questions.

  “I was just coming to get you. I’ve been tied up all morning with clients. You have time for lunch?”

  She made a disgusted noise at me. “Yeah, I know you. You’re avoiding me. Remember, I’ve known you forever. But I’ll ride down with you to the lobby.”

  We grabbed the nearest elevator. As soon as the door closed, Leslie turned to me. “Okay. Spill the details. Who is he? What’s he like? Is he cute? Did you make out?”

  I scowled at her. “Leslie, really, slow down. ‘Make out?’ We’re not in high school.” I smiled at her. “But, yeah, we did kiss.” I rolled my eyes. “It was horrible. He’s got bad breath and snaggle teeth. Ick.”

  She burst into a fit of giggles. “Really? No, you’re kidding. But who is he?”

  Why the obsession with who he is? The elevator chimed, announcing it had reached the lobby. We stepped out, the lobby full of the crush and rush of people. I pulled her off to the side.

  “If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone. Promise?” I looked at her, the perplexed look on her face almost comical if this wasn’t important. “Seriously, promise.”

  “Promise. Is he in the witness protection program?” She was serious. I rolled my eyes again.

  “No, not that.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “He’s Jake McNamara.”

  Saying his name made my heart skip a beat, from excitement or guilt, I wasn’t sure. Jake, I’m sorry.

  Leslie’s eyes went wide. “No! Really? Geez, Abby, nothing like hooking a big fish first time around.” And then her eyes went wider.

  “You met Jake McNamara on a bondage sex site?”

  It seemed the lobby had gone completely silent and Jake’s name was echoing off the marble walls. I shook my head, looking around. The lobby was just as noisy and no one was even within earshot. But I pulled Leslie behind a potted plant.

  “Leslie, you need keep this quiet. He didn’t want me to tell anyone about that part of our relationship.”

  The skepticism on Leslie’s face was obvious. “He wants to keep your relationship a secret? Is that some bondage fetish rule? Why can’t you talk about it?”

  She was standing with her hands on her hips, looking like a stern librarian and I’d been caught giggling in the stacks. I expected her to pull out a rule and wrap my knuckles.

  “Not me, not the public relationship, but the BDSM part. He’s a public figure; your reaction should be enough to know why this can’t really be public knowledge.”

  Leslie relaxed. “Yeah. Okay. I get that part.” She looked closely at me, skepticism replaced by concern.

  “Are you sure this is good for you, Abby? Secrets and whips and handcuffs? All for a fuck or two?”

  Leslie’s use of the word fuck was rare but always well placed. I sighed.

  “Yes, it is…or it will be. And it’s not just for ‘a fuck or two’. I think there’s going to be a whole lot more to this.” I took her arm, pulling her out from behind the ficus tree.

  “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch and tell you all the gory details. But only this once. No more after this.”

  I was puttering around in the kitchen that evening, cleaning up after dinner, when the phone rang. Snatching it up, I glanced at the caller ID; Private Caller. Discreet guy.

  “Hello?” My voice sounded breathless, even to me.

  “Hi, Abby. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

  My heart did that flip-flop thing again. Maybe I have a medical condition.

  “No, this is fine. I’m done with dinner and not really interested in doing the dishes.” I sat down on the couch. Something poked me in the back. Reaching behind me, I fished 50 Shades of Grey out from between the cushions. I smiled to myself as I held the book in my lap.

  “I really enjoyed last night, Abby. Very much. I’m hoping we can get together fairly soon. I’m very anxious to have a session with you.” I heard him laugh softly. “I’m really interested in seeing you, period, truth be told.”

  I smiled into the phone. “I’m anxious to see you…to have a session with you.”

  “We talked about last night about this, Abby. But I want to make sure we still agree, before we go any further.” His voice had gone serious.

  “We agreed our interaction wouldn’t stray away from the rather strict confines of the dominant and submissive relationship. Outside of that relationship, there may be times when I will ask you to accompany me to public events. In those instances, unless we’ve agreed on anything different, I would like you to be my guest, under no constraints or conditions. Do you agree with this? Is that how you’ve understood what we’re doing here?”

  I hesitated. This was what I wanted, above all, to not become so entangled with a man that I got my heart broken again. Some deep part of me wanted to use Jake, to take from him what pleasure I could and explore my own desires.

  A tiny part of my heart sank though, the little bit of the incurable romantic in me wanting to view Jake as my romantic partner. I held back that part, shoving it far away from what was being presented to me now.

  “I do understand and I agree. And I appreciate your honesty. I think we’re totally on the same page.”

  “Great. Let’s see…it’s already mid-week. Should we start on Friday? I have the sense I’d like this first session to be relaxed, no worrying about work the next day. You may need some aftercare, some recovery time, depending on what we do. I want to make sure to make you feel as safe and cared for as possible.”

  My heart was racing. Aftercare? Like medical care? I think there was some research I need to do before Friday. My throat was suddenly dry, my voice coming out as a small croak. I tried again.

  “Yes, Friday is fine.”

  Jake gave me his address and private cell phone number, along with his currently blocked home phone number. I was familiar with the suburb where he lived; it was outside the center of Houston, the land of million dollar homes on huge lots. I swallowed hard.

  After the phone call, my mind was numb. Was this what I wanted? Yes. And did I want this with Jake? Absolutely.

  Then why was my heart pounding and my palms damp?

  The Internet is a wonderful place; sometimes it’s also very scary. I found a good site devoted to the BDSM lifestyle. There was a great deal to take it. I did learn what aftercare entailed, relieved to learn it would be Jake’s reasonability to see that I was okay after a session, that I wouldn�
�t just be sent home to deal with…whatever I had to deal with.

  My Internet searches led me through a wide variety of sites, the most fascinating having to do with elaborate knot tying. I tried to imagine being restrained by Jake in this way, patiently sitting while the rope was looped and tied into intricate knots and patterns. I got panicky now when I got tangled in my sweater sleeves or the bed sheets. I wasn’t sure I could tolerate being so firmly trussed, even if the knot work was so beautiful.

  I left work early on Friday. I wanted to take my time getting ready for my first session with Jake. We had talked late Thursday evening. Jake had called to see how I was, telling me again how excited he was to see me the next evening.

  “Don’t worry, Abby,” he said, again in that voice that made my heart flutter.

  I’d assured him I wasn’t worrying, but my voice gave me away.

  “Do you want to back out? You can if you want. You’re under no contract or obligation.” I could hear the change in his voice. “Just be honest. That’s all I ask.”

  “No, Jake. I don’t want to back out. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Maybe that’s what I feel and what you’re hearing in my voice.” I realized I was had picked up the 50 Shades book again. I had been worrying the cover between my fingers; the corner was almost torn off. I tossed the book to the other end of the couch.

  “We’ll start slow. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to have happen.”

  “I know, Jake,” I whispered. “I’ll be fine once we start. Nerves, and anticipation are getting the better of me at the moment.”

  We’d said goodnight and I’d spent another restless night, fighting with the bedcovers, dreaming of serpentine knots and snakes.

  Jake had given me the passcode to the gate at the end of his driveway. I punched the number into the keypad and the tall iron gates swung open. I had clients who lived out here, but I’d never actually been to their homes.

  I drove up the long sweeping drive toward the cream colored Italianate villa. In the soft spring twilight the building was colored almost the same pale pink as the inside of a shell. Jake had said to drive to the right of the main entrance and park beneath the portico. I did as instructed. Already being a good submissive, Abby. Good girl.

  The huge wrought iron trimmed glass door to my left opened as I stepped out of the car and Jake walked out, bathed in the glow from the lights beneath the portico. He was dressed in jeans and a soft white shirt, open at the collar. The whole image was relaxed and sexy, including the smile on his face. That charming smile that I bet had gotten more women out of their clothes than I cared to know about.

  He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel his body heat, smell him. Not the scent of cologne; I didn’t think he was wearing any. But it was his smell, rich and masculine, warm and inviting. I drew in a deep breath.

  “Abby, welcome to my home.” He seemed to hesitate and then bent his head to kiss my lips. I must have looked puzzled when he stepped back. He smiled.

  “Come on it. Let’s get comfortable and we can talk a bit.”

  He took my hand, leading me through the door. I heard the deep clunk of the latch sliding home. For some reason, I thought of castles, knights in armor and lady’s virtues. The image slid away though as he took me through a maze of rooms, none of which seemed to have a square corner. I saw a kitchen, what looked like a butler’s pantry, a dining room, another room I couldn’t really identify, and finally to a relatively small room down a short hallway.

  This room was gorgeous, darkly paneled, and vaguely Gothic but extremely comfortable looking. One wall was dominated by a fireplace, a small fire crackling on the hearth. The opposite wall looked out through floor to ceiling windows on a large expanse of grass and trees, which resembled a park more than a suburban backyard.

  The furnishings were all inlaid wood pieces, several chairs, a sofa and a loveseat, all covered in a masculine mix of deep reds and olive green fabric, along with an apparently lovingly worn leather chair by the fire. The carpet was an Oriental, creams, reds and greens, echoing the colors of the furniture. It looked inviting, cozy and rich all at the same time.

  Jake let me take this all in, finally pulling me down to the floor in front of the fire. I realized he’d been holding my hand ever since I’d arrive. And I also saw he was pulling me down onto a thick fleecy rug.

  “I want us to work on trust tonight, Abby. I need you to trust me and I need to learn to trust myself.” He waited for me to get settled, sitting directly across from me.

  “I thought I would start by giving you a massage, something to allow you to get comfortable with me, allow me to explore your body in a safe way, before we move into anything too heavy.”

  I nodded. He seemed to want to control this evening and I was willing to go along. But my inner voice was busy explaining to me about my insecurity at being naked, without the benefit of bed covers or sheets or darkness.

  And again, my face gave me away. There’s a reason why you always lose at poker. Everything you think flashes on your face.

  “What is it, Abby? You need to tell me or this isn’t going to work.” He took my hands in his. “And I want this to work, for both of us.”

  Taking a deep breath, I looked him in the eye. Spill it, Abby.

  “I have some insecurity about my body, about my weight. I’ve always been on the heavy side and sometime it’s made me hold back, especially in settings like this.” I looked around the room. “You know…daylight, lights…fire light.”

  Jake smiled. “I thought as much.” He took one hand, holding it in his, slowly tracing his finger over my palm, between my fingers, sending goose bumps up my arm.

  “That’s part of the reason for the massage.” He looked up at me, a dreamy look in his eyes. “You’re a beautiful woman, Abby. I’ve told you that and I’ll tell you again, many times. I knew from your photo that you aren’t a stick figure; you’re a real woman. You have curves, all in the right places. I don’t think when you take your clothes off I’m going to find you less attractive. I think when you take your clothes off and you’re naked here, beneath my hands, it’s going to take all my control to not just fuck the hell out of you.”

  His voice had gone low, the last words practically a growl, so unexpected I recoiled as if I’d been struck. His eyes were locked with mine, fueled now with passion and heat—with naked lust.

  And there was that smile, no gently charming smile now, but something edgy, almost feral. His smile alone had taken my breath away once before and it did it now, but for a different reason. This one promised something powerful, something dark, something that lit a fire in me like no smile had ever done before.

  My heart was pounding and Jake knew it. His fingers were on my wrist, reading my pulse as if it were Braille. I knew what it said; he did as well.

  We held each other’s gaze, stayed in that moment for a long time. The intensity held, but something unspoken had passed between us. I was ready for whatever he had planned for me, totally under his spell, in his control.

  I was ready to be his submissive.

  Jake reached for me, pulling me slowly toward him. The kiss he gave me was uninhibited, full of the lust and passion his eyes promised, but it was all too brief. He broke away with a harsh noise.

  He sat back, watching me. I was practically panting, my body on fire. I’d have gladly let him take me there, on this rug, no questions asked.

  But I saw he was struggling to get himself under control. He closed his eyes briefly, drawing a deep breath, holding it for a moment before blowing it out. When he opened them, the fire and passion was still there, but I saw restraint as well. As much as I wanted him, then and there, I knew I needed to respect his decision as how to move forward.

  “There’s a bathroom across the hall where you can change. There’s a robe you can wear. I’d like you to tie your hair back for me, so it won’t get in the way.”

  He stood gracefully, pulling me up from the rug. His face wa
s still flushed but something in his eyes had changed; some kind of restraint was in place. I nodded and made my way on shaky legs out of the room.

  Once in the bathroom, I leaned back against the door. I took a deep, shuddering breath. I wasn’t really sure what had just happened, but it had hit me deeply. There was much more going on here than just a man who wanted to tie me up and spank me. I wasn’t sure if that restraint I saw in his eyes was in place to protect me, or to protect himself.

  The robe was a plush affair, generous and cozy. I found an assortment of hair ties on the counter, chose a pretty blue ribbon and managed to corral my hair. Before leaving, I took a look around the bathroom. It boasted a full steam shower and jetted tub, all covered in creamy marble. It also seemed to have no square corners. Each angle was sharp, each wall at an odd angle to its neighbor. Again the image of a castle rose up. Maybe there’s a secret tower in the center of the house. I shook my head, laughing at myself.

  While I was gone, the room had been transformed. Jake had turned down the lights and lit dozens of fat white candles. It was completely dark outside now and the candle light was reflected in the beveled edges of the floor to ceiling windows.

  Jake was by the fire, adding another log. He straightened and turned toward me when he heard the click of the door, walking toward me in the softly lit room. He’d taken off his shirt and shoes and I let my eyes slide over his chest, the dark nipples against his tawny skin. I resisted the urge to lick my lips.

  His jeans hung low on his narrow hips, revealing that delicious landscape below his navel, something that always makes me weak in the knees. I gave in and ran my tongue over my lips.

  He took me gently by the hand, guiding me toward the fireplace. The firelight cast a glow over the rug and I had a fleeting image of myself lying naked, my skin burnished to a golden hue by the fire. And I was amazed to find that image didn’t really bother me in the least.