by Opal Carew
But fate throws a huge surprise in with the breathtaking bliss… and emotional complications Maggie could never have foreseen.
Chapter One
I’ve booked us a suite at The Retreat for the night of the seventeenth, as you suggested. It’s in the name of Jones. The Primrose Suite. I’ll be arriving late afternoon, and I look forward to meeting you, finally, in the flesh.
Oh God, oh God, this was it! Finally, after all these weeks, they were going to meet. And play.
And he was going to spank her bottom.
If you’ve changed your mind, beautiful Maggie, tell me now, and we’ll never speak of it again. We can continue as we are. I’ll be perfectly content with that. But I don’t think you will. I don’t think it will be enough for you. You’re the bravest and most imaginative woman I’ve ever “met.”
Trembling, she let her finger hover over the message icon. Could she really meet him? Could she really do it? There was a big difference between bold cyber talk and raunchy flirting, and actually meeting the man. Between describing her fantasies and living them out.
Did she dare meet her master and let him punish her?
Her fingertip shook. She nearly started tapping out a “perhaps not” message.
No! I’ve got to meet him! I’ve got to! I asked for this, and I want it. It’s my destiny.
She smiled, her heart pounding, and the old familiar honeyed surge rippled in her belly.
I’ve got to meet you, Master. Because I want you.
Because I love you?
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Copyright Notice
His Secret
Copyright 2014 by Portia Da Costa
This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. With exception of quotes used in reviews, this story may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
BONDAGE ON 34TH STREET
BONDAGE ON 34TH STREET
Emily Ryan Davis and Jennifer Leeland
Copyright 2014
Chapter One
Home. Tasha Sears closed her eyes and listened to the ebb and flow of excited conversation as the crowded plane descended into Baltimore-Washington International Airport. Her stomach dropped with the change in altitude. Even though she’d flown back and forth from San Diego to Baltimore at least a dozen times in the three years it had taken her to complete her master’s in nursing, her back teeth ground together as she braced for the jolt of the landing gear touching down on the runway. As the plane braked and slowed, her tension eased away only to be replaced by the reality of what waited for her on the ground.
“Will Ty meet you at the airport?”
Tasha glanced at her traveling companion and friend, Sasha Paulus, who didn’t seem the least bit tired from the red eye flight. Sasha’s dark complexion glowed in the sallow light of the cabin, as beautiful as ever. Her own blonde hair and blue eyes seemed so commonplace and ordinary in contrast to Sasha’s East Indian heritage.
Anticipation and anxiety tied her stomach into intricate knots as she answered Sasha. “That’s the plan. I have some apartment viewings lined up but not until Monday.” She usually crashed with her sister, Kat, and her brother-in-law, but Kat and Liam had followed their hearts--and Hunter, their smoking-hot Marine--to North Carolina almost a year ago, so her usual guest bedroom wasn’t available. She’d taken advantage of the circumstances and charmed her way into Ty’s house and onto his couch, where she would be able to talk him out of making an epic relationship mistake.
And pray she hadn’t made some epic mistakes of her own in accepting a position in the NICU department of St. Agnes Hospital instead of hiring on at one of the California hospitals she’d planned on pursuing before she realized she couldn’t live without Ty, a man she’d looked at almost every day for years, but hadn’t truly seen. Not until she’d taken the blindfold off her sexuality and faced the long-hidden undercurrents that had flowed under the surface of their relationship.
When she’d accepted the offer from St. Agnes, her purpose was clear. Now that the couch-surfing adventure was imminent, Tasha suddenly had doubts. What if she’d misjudged everything, and Ty was right where he needed to be? What if this was all a big mistake? She’d only had texts, status updates and the occasional brief phone call to guide her in recent months, as she and Ty were both so caught up in their own lives, they rarely found time for the kinds of dusk-til-dawn conversations they’d once lived for.
No. She buried her doubts. Tasha knew Ty was unhappy even if he didn’t come right out and say it. Especially because he wasn’t saying it.
“I can see the wheels turning.” Sasha raised her eyebrows pointedly. “And I still think this is a bad idea.”
“Ty’s miserable, Sasha. I know he is. Something about this relationship… Something’s wrong, and if I let him, he’s just going to bury it and pretend it doesn’t exist and commit himself to something he shouldn’t.”
“I don’t understand how you can know what’s wrong without talking to him.”
“I’ve known Ty all my life. This thing with Noah...look, I just know.”
Ty hadn’t said anything directly, but she could read between the lines of his guarded, distant emails. The Ty she knew needed to be in control. So many years submitting to Noah, a man rumored to be notoriously unbending in his dominance, had to be driving Ty’s soul into the ground. Whatever was happening between Ty and Noah now, she knew in her heart it wasn’t right. Ty was changing. She could read it in his texts, in his e-mails…or his lack of. Just about the time Tasha discovered her own submissive nature, Ty’s emails changed. They were less informative, less personal. Just less.
Never had so many words said so little.
Sasha’s brown eyes were thoughtful. “Relationships are complicated because people are complicated. Ty might be miserable, but it doesn’t mean that Noah is responsible. Don’t you think you should find out first?”
“You only say that because you know Noah.” Sasha had connections to the Eastern seaboard’s BDSM lifestyle movers and shakers through her brother, Master A.
Tasha unclipped her seatbelt as they prepared to disembark. “I know he loves Ty. I’m not sure what you plan is safe.”
“Safe? What do you mean? Do you think Noah will get violent?” She was halfway to standing but her knees wobbled and dropped her back into her seat. Dreading Sasha’s response, she asked, “Does he have a history of violence?”
Sasha lowered her carry-on from the overhead compartment and frowned. “No, he doesn’t. But people could still get hurt. Are you sure you’re willing to pay the consequences?”
Before Tasha could answer, the other passengers pushed forward and swept Sasha down the aisle. Grabbing her things, Tasha hurried after her, not catching up until they were exiting the jet bridge.
As soon as she could carry on a conversation without shouting, she frowned at Sasha. “So you think I should leave it alone?”
Sasha surprised her by grinning. “Actually, I don’t. Ty is…complicated. I think his needs are complicated. You might be surprised, Tash. Noah might be your strongest ally in this.”
Tasha was startled by that statement, but there was no time to dispute it as foot traffic surged again, bustling around them. Tasha impatiently worked her way through the gate, more anxious than ever to see Ty.
She walked quickly, barely noticing if Sasha kept up or not. As she threaded through the corridor, she strained to scan the waiting crowd. No Ty. Why wasn’t he here? But she saw a placard with Natasha Sears blocked out in thick, masculine strokes, and her stride hitched. She knew the hands holding that sign, knew the tribal swirls of ink that told a story from knuckles to wrists.
Photos of t
hose hands had secured Ty’s first gallery showing. The collection, titled Safe with Him, now featured prominently in Ty’s online portfolio. She hadn’t realized they were portraits of Noah, but as the sign bearing her name lowered and she met a pair of cool, arresting gray eyes, she knew she stood face to face with her enemy.
As she took a step toward him, her stomach dropped. Something changed in Noah’s eyes, and the spell broke. Sucking a deep breath, Tasha tore her gaze from his.
But Noah’s magnetism didn’t end at his eyes or hands. The rest of him… Biting her lip, she took note of everything. Everything.
He had to be a solid six foot three and his shoulders were broad with muscular arms. He wore a button-down shirt under a leather jacket, both garments fitted close to his body like they were tailored for him instead of plucked off a department store rack. The clean, simple lines of a pair of black trousers showcased narrow hips and strong thighs. He wore flat-front pants, and they packaged things up very attractively.
Her first impression was of a large, intimidating man, but as she backtracked up to his face, she realized he wasn’t bulky, just fit. And designed with all her hot buttons in mind. While she stared at him, the world fell away, irrelevant in the face of this man.
And she was stupid enough to think she could take Ty from him? Her inner submissive didn’t want to take anything from him, didn’t want to do anything except give and give.
Sasha pinched her side, and Tasha jumped. The small pain snapped her out of her trance but she could feel Noah’s presence compelling her attention back to him.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” She whispered fiercely to Sasha.
Sasha’s smile was evil. She glided forward and dragged Tasha with her. “This was more fun.”
* * *
Natasha Sears looked different in person. He’d seen her selfies on Facebook, but face to face was another story. Even though the woman had taken a red-eye flight and arrived at the crack of dawn in a crowded airport, she was beautiful. She wore her long, thick blonde hair up in a casual ponytail that had turned messy during the long flight. Some women would have looked sloppy with the stray strands floating around their face but on Natasha, the tousled look could lead his mind down some dark, intimate corridors. Part of him wanted to explore the possibilities of fantasy, but he focused on the very real threat standing in front of him. Her girl-next-door curves filled out a pair of faded black yoga pants and a gray t-shirt, a subtle display of her assets that was alluring in its lack of artifice. The lip she bit was generous, tempting, and her defiantly raised chin only emphasized the cords of her long, slender neck. Everything about her made his cock twitch, which surprised him, and his gut twist, which didn’t.
Her expression transformed slowly from shock to hunger to hostility, an array of emotions that gratified him on some level. Reminded him not to be distracted by the hot flash of fantasy. Natasha Sears wasn’t a fantasy. She was a five-foot-something blonde axe poised to split his life in half if he didn’t block her wickedly tempting blade.
“You must be Noah,” she said Suspicion and mistrust gave her voice a biting edge. “Where’s Ty?”
“Unavailable.”
Her delicate nostrils flared and she wrapped one hand around the shoulder straps of her handbag, squeezing the leather so tightly, her knuckles whitened with tension. “Unavailable?”
“Yes.” Ty was shooting a wedding in Boston. He’d planned to drive back to Baltimore right after the reception, but had texted Noah late last night to let him know the party had run late. Ty had suggested sending Sasha’s brother to meet the two women, but Noah had claimed the honors.
He didn’t share all that with Natasha. Information was power, and in this battle of wills, he intended to win.
Hot spots of color flared on her cheeks as travelers flowed around her, cranky and loud. She was oblivious to the movement. To everything except him and the emotions he aroused. Her single-minded focus--and her internal struggle with confronting him--confirmed his suspicions. Natasha Sears was a sexual submissive.
More than that.
She was a game changer.
“Why is he unavailable?” She bit out.
He raised an eyebrow and met her gaze, perversely pleased that she was as unhappy to meet him as he was to meet her. Instead of answering her question, he directed a new one to the young woman standing to Natasha’s left, watching with fascination, and no doubt picking up on every nuance of tension. The observant little minx. “Sasha, how are you? I haven’t seen you since--”
“Let’s not go into details,” Sasha said.
“Brat.” Noah grinned. “I was going to say since your brother’s birthday. Atticus must be slipping. Hasn’t anyone beaten that attitude out of you?”
“Are you offering?”
Sasha had always been tempting, with her chocolate eyes and generous mouth. Tempting, but not compelling, not like the blonde who had moved across the entire country just to drop kick him out of Ty’s life.
His attraction to Natasha irritated the fuck out of him. Pissed him off so much, he worked at ignoring her by bantering with his friend Atticus’s sister.
“I can arrange it,” he said and gave Sasha a stern look he knew wouldn’t faze her at all.
Sure enough, she laughed. “I think you have enough on your plate. Now, in anticipation of being a third wheel, I have someone meeting me.” Sasha gave Natasha a gentle shove, propelling her toward him. “Go on. Shoo. Call me later.”
Natasha lurched forward at the push, but caught herself and, after one pleading glance at Sasha--which went unseen, as the other woman was already heading into the crowd--she squared her shoulders and blew out a long breath. Noah cocked his head, zeroing in on the nervous response, knowing exactly what he’d like to do with that. She was the kind of submissive he liked to scare a little, make nervous, drive beyond any limits she might think she had.
Maybe he’d do just that.
“Give me your suitcase, Natasha.”
Her breath caught and she immediately offered the handle to her luggage on wheels. Instantly. Without hesitation. Her response to his order was gratifying. Jesus, she was going to bring him to his knees. Just like that, he wanted to see her bound and suspended, trusting him with her entire being.
The picture of her submission appeared fully-formed in his mind and his chest tightened with an ache he’d only ever felt once before.
Shaking off the disturbing realization, he took the handle of her suitcase, brushing her hand as he did. Natasha jumped at the touch. Aiming to push her a little closer to the edge, he gripped her elbow and turned her toward the exit. “Tell me how you met Ty.”
“He didn’t tell you?” She walked beside him, periodically trying to jerk her elbow out of his grasp. Noah held firm, part of him enjoying the covert way she struggled.
“Pretend he didn’t.”
She didn’t answer initially. Noah figured she wasn’t going to, but then she tilted her head and a brilliant smile lit up her face, momentarily shutting down his senses, leaving him blind and deaf to everything except the open expression of adoration she harbored for his lover. He frowned, but she didn’t seem to notice, she was so caught up in the memory he’d prompted.
She must have realized she was daydreaming, because she shook herself and the smile turned rueful before she said, “It isn’t pretty.”
“You mean I may have to punish him? Then I insist. I like to punish Ty.” He chose his words with care, setting out to remind her exactly whose man she was talking about, but his efforts backlashed when her breath quickened. She opened and closed her mouth twice before looking away from him.
“Ty’s a grown man.” She stared straight ahead as they stepped onto the skywalk, temporarily off-balance with the conveyor belt under their feet.
“Complete with grown-man desires,” he murmured.
A muscle in her cheek twitched and her jaw worked. Noah imagined she was grinding her back teeth together, and had to suppress a satisfied
smile.
A beat later, she shrugged. “We met years ago, when he decided to pick me out of a crowd of dozens of girls at a basketball conference. He stole a kiss. Just walked up and planted his lips on mine.”
He didn’t miss the subtle emphasis she placed on the word years, or the way she phrased her response. Natasha might be young and more inexperienced than most of the submissives Noah encountered, but she knew how to toss a verbal dart.
They stepped off the skywalk and he steered her toward the exit. “I’ll bet you were a heartbreaker as a girl.”
“Not really,” she said with a shake of her head. “I was a tomboy. He kissed me in front of my entire team. I had to punch him in order to save my reputation.”
They arrived at Noah’s car and he opened the trunk to put her luggage inside. Striding to the passenger door, he trapped her against the car. “Hitting’s not nice. Maybe it’s you I need to punish.”
He relished the way her eyes widened, their clear blue depths showing her shock and fear.
“What?”
“You heard me. Ty pushed his way into your life and did something out of bounds. Now, here you are doing the same thing, aren’t you?” He could smell her, the tantalizing scent of perfume and sweat.
Lines appeared on her forehead and she focused her gaze on the area of his throat exposed by the vee of his shirt. “Yes.”
“So what do you think, little girl?” Bracing his forearms on the roof of the car, he lowered his voice. “Do I have to take my paddle to your ass?” A shudder rolled through her, briefly pressing her breasts and belly against him.
“You like that idea.” He dropped his hand to shape the curve of her neck and rubbed his thumb over her racing pulse.
Her throat rose and fell as she swallowed. Turning her face away, she whispered, “You have no rights to me. I’m here for Ty. Not for you.”