by Erika Masten
She talked about becoming a librarian, about finding routine and order and, finally, quiet. She talked to him while tears ran down her face and soaked her coat and she didn’t care, she had to make him understand this thing she’d only read about in books, this crazy, kinky, twisted thing, had made her feel alive in ways she didn’t understand, but wanted—needed—to experience.
“Shh,” he said finally, reaching over and sliding a hand behind her neck, massaging gently, as if he could cut her racing thoughts off with a gentle squeeze. “It’s enough, Katie.”
She swallowed her tears and pointed at her exit without a word, directing him silently to her house. Liam pulled into the snow-covered driveway, taking her hand as she reached for her purse sitting on the console between them. His was more paw than hand, swallowing hers as he caught her attention with his eyes, holding her with them. She felt awful—looked awful, she knew, red-nosed and red-faced from crying. She wanted to hide, turn away, but he held her with just the heat of his gaze.
“Show me.” It was more whisper than words.
She looked at him, confused, staring at the hand holding hers, and then she did the first thing that came to her head. She took his hand in both of hers—his was big, tanned, well-manicured, a silver ring on his middle finger—and turned it over, palm up. Katie sobbed silently, pressing her lips to the middle of his hand, head bent, tears falling onto his wrist.
She felt his other hand move in her hair, that same slow caress, heard his slow, deep breath, a sigh, and then felt his lips pressing against the top of her head, a soft, firm kiss.
“Go inside, Katie.” Liam let her go and she looked up at him in wonder, unable to speak. Patrick appeared, knocking at the window, and Liam powered it down.
“Your keys.” Patrick handed them over, and Katie noticed he was still wearing his boots and hadn’t bothered with a shirt. His chest was bare above the zipper of his Sherpa coat. He looked at her face and then at his brother’s, frowning, mistaking her tears. “Katie, I’m so sorry. Really…”
“It’s okay,” she choked, letting Patrick open the door and help her out of the car. She wanted to look back, to say something to Liam, to ask him what had just happened, what it meant. Patrick walked her to the door, still apologizing, and she let him, murmuring something as he headed back down the walkway, getting into his brother’s Maserati.
She saw Liam’s face for just one brief moment before they left, when Patrick opened the passenger door, saw Liam looking straight at her. His gaze had never wavered.
And she knew.
He’s the one.
* * * *
Katie sighed, pulling misfiled books off the shelves for the third time in an hour, and it was her own damned fault. She had sandwiched a stack of fiction from A to Z without regards to alphabet in the “K” section without thinking, just automatically putting books on the shelf one after the other, her mind wandering. She couldn’t help it. It had been wandering all week, back to the moment when Liam burst into the room to rescue her, back to the ride home, her tearful, shameful confession, and mostly to the one incredible moment in his car, her lips pressed to his palm and his lips brushing her hair.
She had fought the urge to call, had struggled with her desire, confessing everything to Lori, whose cliché-machine had been running full blast, telling her Katie had obviously gotten herself into a “fine kettle of fish now,” and while Lori didn’t want to be the “doubting Thomas,” she was suspect of the whole “smoke and mirrors” act.
So Katie had spent the week in a fog, going to work, coming home, only checking her cell phone a hundred times a day or so, sure one minute he would call, despairing he never would the next. At least she’d lost three pounds that week, because she could hardly eat anything. She was too distracted.
“Hi there.”
It’s him.
She looked through the stacks to find the source of the voice and saw Liam peering at her between the spines of Koontz and King. Her heart hammered in her chest and immediately her palms felt clammy.
“Hi,” she said faintly, trying to discern if she was actually seeing him, or maybe she was hallucinating?
“I’m looking for a book.” He came around the stacks, his shoulders so broad they almost brushed the shelves on each side.
She straightened, librarian-mode kicking in. “What book?”
“To Protect and Serve—a Dom’s Guide.”
Katie frowned, already running through the catalog in her head—and she had an extensive personal reading list to draw from as well. “Who’s the author?”
“Liam Quinn.”
She stared at him, blinking. “You wrote a book?”
“Oh never mind, here it is.” He flashed an impossibly sexy smile, holding up a hardcover with a woman on the front. She was restrained, hands behind her, nude, back, bottom, and the side of her breast showing.
“That’s not one of ours.” She knew it before she even checked the spine for a call number. The library had strict policies about books with nudity on the cover. She’d had to order most of her BDSM books from Amazon.
“No.” He held it out. “It’s for you.”
It was one she hadn’t read, although she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of books on the subject.
“It’s actually out of print,” he confessed. “That’s one of the few author copies I have left. It’s probably a collector’s item…somewhere.”
“Thank you.” She opened the cover and saw two things—Liam’s picture, arms crossed, on the flap near the bottom, and her name, written in Sharpie, on the cover page, with a message,
For Katie,
In service.
Liam
She looked up at him, confused. “So… is this what you came for? To give me your book?”
“I also wanted to take you to dinner.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but he waited for an answer, his gaze moving over her face, like he was drinking her in. She touched her hair, piled onto the top of her head, pushing her reading glasses up her nose, knowing she looked like the quintessential librarian in her pencil skirt and v-neck blouse, and wished she’d at least left her hair down today.
“Okay.” She tried to imagine sitting across a table with him, doing something so mundane as eating, and couldn’t fathom it. But she said yes anyway, without a moment’s hesitation. “When?”
“How’s now?”
She didn’t even check her watch. “Let me get my coat.”
* * * *
“So what do they call you?” Katie was feeling far more relaxed after two margaritas and she giggled when she cracked her crab and red pieces of shell exploded onto the tablecloth.
“Don’t you love it when it comes out like this, instead of all shredded?” she asked. Liam watched her pull the crab meat out of its shell in one, long piece. She eyed it delightedly before dipping it into the butter sauce, not even bothering with a fork.
“They call me Liam.” He answered her question, watching her lick butter from the tips of her fingers.
“Not Master? Or Sir? Or something… you know… cool?”
Liam snorted. “What did Patrick want you to call him?”
“Dom.”
“How original.” He rolled his eyes and she saw his jaw working as he put his fork down on his plate next to what little was left of his salmon. “This isn’t a game, Katie.”
“I know.” She paused, licking butter off her lips, and took a sip of her margarita.
“Patrick’s sin is pride.” He took a drink of his water—he hadn’t ordered wine or alcohol with dinner—catching the waitress’s attention. “Hubris. A Dom is humble. A servant, really.”
She crinkled her nose at him, regrettably finishing the last piece of delicious crab. “But the submissive is the one—”
“Sure.” Liam smiled at the waitress as she stopped at another table on her way to theirs, acknowledging her need to serve them first. “Everyone knows what the submissive is
giving up. Your power. Your control.” His gaze moved back to Katie and she felt it immediately, rushing hotly through her, like the blood through her veins. “Your body. Your love.”
“Love?” She swallowed, putting her fork down next to her place. Her hands were trembling and she didn’t trust herself to actually hang onto her utensils.
“But the Dom is always in service to the sub,” he explained, watching as she started to nervously play with the corner of her napkin. “He’s offering you his time, his focus, his attention. He has to be completely present with you in every moment.”
She had never wanted anything more in her life than what he was talking about. And the way he said it! His words were fluid, sure. He knew exactly what he was talking about, had experienced it, lived it.
“And the Dom has to be willing to accept the gifts a sub is offering,” Liam went on, his voice soft, and she focused on him, entranced. “It’s a precious thing, when someone’s willing to give themselves to you that way. It takes trust beyond measure. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
She nodded, feeling tears prick her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away, turning to her margarita and hiding behind it as she sipped. She wanted to give herself, wholly, completely, had wanted it for so long—and now… now she knew she’d found the man she wanted to give herself to. It seemed so simple, but her heart ached as she looked at him, fearing his rejection still, feeling as if she was at some sort of “submissive tryout,” trying to say and do the right thing, walking on eggshells.
“But a Dom has to be worthy of such a gift,” he reminded her. “And he has to feel worthy of it.”
Katie’s eyes widened. “That’s really Patrick’s problem.”
“Yes,” Liam agreed. “That, and his damned pride.”
He looked up as the waitress approached. She was the bright, shiny sort of pretty Katie always wished she could be—bubbly and blonde, she smiled easily and flirted with her customers, moving with a natural grace.
“Tiramisu,” Liam ordered.
“Two?” she asked, putting pen to pad.
“Just one.”
Katie opened her mouth to protest—dessert sounded delightful!—but she argued with herself that she’d had more than enough as the waitress continued to flirt with Liam, exchanging some pleasantries about where she was going to school, what she was studying. Katie hadn’t been paying close attention—she’d been too focused on how the girl flipped her hair and flashed her smile, the way her hips swayed under her black skirt when she walked away.
“But you can read all this in the book.” Liam sat back in his chair as the waitress departed, taking his napkin from his lap and putting it over his plate. “Didn’t you say you learn best from books?”
“I like hearing it from you.” Katie watched the waitress stop and take plates from another table, balancing them easily, even in heels.
“You’re jealous.”
“What?” Katie coughed, reaching for her water.
He chuckled. “I can almost hear the voices in your head.”
“I hope not,” she muttered, gulping water. Of course, he was right.
“You don’t need to be.”
She put her glass on the table, not looking at him. Instead she looked out the window where the sun was setting over the city. The view was stunning from this high up, snow falling steadily, melting into the lake far below.
“Do you always flirt with waitresses?” she finally asked.
“You can label it as you like.” He shrugged. “It’s really just an energy exchange.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“All relationships are about energy exchange. I’m sure you’ve read about Total Power Exchange?”
She nodded. Of course she had—the 24/7 Dom/sub relationship. “Have you ever done that?”
“Once.” He didn’t offer any more information and Katie didn’t ask. “Ah, here we are.”
He sounded pleased and Katie looked longingly at the layered dessert while he thanked the waitress, picking up the spoon as she left. Liam glanced over at her as he slid the spoon through the creamy layers, smiling at her expression.
“You’re distracted.”
She licked her lips. “That looks yummy.”
“You want it.”
“Yes.” Looking between him and the dessert, she wasn’t sure which she wanted more.
Liam smirked. “That’s why I ordered it.”
“For me?” She brightened.
“Close your eyes.”
“Here?” Katie glanced around the restaurant. It was a Friday night—they were packed. When she looked back at Liam, she understood her mistake immediately. He’d given her an order and she had refused to follow. Stupid. She chastised herself, closing her eyes instantly, both to comply and to hide from his dark gaze.
“Open your mouth.”
This time she did as she was told and was rewarded with a delicious bite of tiramisu, incredibly rich and creamy, with the dark hint of mocha and a lovely finish of chocolate.
“Keep your eyes closed.”
He’d anticipated her opening them and Katie only got a brief glimpse of him before she squeezed her eyes shut again, chewing and swallowing the delightful confection.
“How does it taste?”
“Like… mmm…” She licked her lips, already craving more. “Coffee… and chocolate… oh heaven… light and fluffy…”
“No words.” Liam brought the spoon to her lips, urging her to open, and she took another blissful bite. “How does it taste?”
“Mmmmmm.” The ladyfingers in the dessert were moist and sweet against her tongue. They made fantastic dessert here! She’d have to remember this restaurant—although she probably couldn’t afford to come here on her salary, even alone.
“I think you can do better.”
Liam fed her another bite, smaller this time. Katie was far too aware of the sounds of the restaurant around her, the clinking of glasses, the scrape of utensils on plates, the sounds of laughter and conversation reverberating in her head. She didn’t want to make so much noise she called attention to herself, but that was clearly what Liam was encouraging!
“Ohhhhhh.” She took his next offered bite with more enthusiasm and he gave her an even larger one. “Nnnnnnngggg!”
“More?”
She leaned forward, mouth open like a baby bird, eyes still firmly closed. “Mmm mmm mmm!”
Liam continued to feed her, encouraging her noises, and Katie soon forgot where she was. The chocolate and coffee and cream melted in her mouth, the taste so delicious she couldn’t get enough. And it was sexy, she had to admit, Liam feeding her dessert, watching her pleasure—and she knew it was exactly what he was doing. Her belly protested, but her tongue wanted more, more, until she was making noises she knew would rival Meg Ryan’s orgasm in When Harry Met Sally, with Liam rewarding her, bite after bite.
“That was the last one.”
Katie made a little disappointed noise, her throat constricting. That was it? No warning? Nothing? She almost opened her eyes in protest but then remembered he hadn’t told her to.
“Did you enjoy it, Kitten?” Liam dabbed her mouth with the corner of his napkin. “Did you really experience the perfection of the last bite?”
She sighed. “Well if I’d known it was going to be the last one…”
“But we never know, do we?” His words were profound and opened her heart immediately, moving her nearly to tears. Over dessert, for pete’s sake! She chided herself for her overreaction, but she couldn’t help the emotion welling up.
“Open your eyes.”
Katie did, meeting his, trying to discern what he was thinking, feeling. Then she became aware of the noise around her, far diminished. Had everyone gone? Glancing around, she found herself sinking lower in her chair. It was as if the entire restaurant had stopped eating and drinking and talking just so they could turn and watch them. She’d never felt so on display in her life.
/> Liam stood, tossing his napkin on the table, and leaned in to whisper one word into her ear.
“Worthy.”
Katie looked at the remains of the tiramisu—he hadn’t fed her all of it, there was about a quarter of the dessert left on the plate. She realized, looking up at him, he’d actually stopped when he felt she was full. How?
“Come with me,” Liam said.
“But…where are we going?”
He cocked his head at her. “If you come with me, you’ll probably find out.”
“Don’t we have to pay the bill?” she inquired, looking around for the waitress.
“I have an account here.” He sighed. “Come with me, Katie. I won’t say it again.”
She practically jumped out of her chair to follow him.
* * * *
“Do you ever wear appropriate footwear for the weather?”
Katie shivered, hugging her coat around her, eyes closed as directed. They’d been closed the whole way in the car, and now that they were out of it, she found it even harder to keep Liam’s surprise a real surprise. She wanted to peek!
“I didn’t know I was going to be walking in the snow.”
He sighed. “Never mind.”
She squealed when he picked her up, just like he had in the basement, carrying her easily.
“Keep your eyes closed.”
How did he know she wanted to peek? She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her nose against the soft wool of his coat, smelling cologne and soap and something else, something utterly male. She could hear Liam’s footfalls on the pavement and tried to discern where they were going by the sounds. The evening air was bitter, the sun now below the horizon, her cheeks pinking from the wind. She turned her head toward their destination, eyes still closed, hearing a strange gurgling sound as Liam opened some kind of door or gate and stepped through.
“Are you going to throw me into a witch’s cauldron?” she inquired, frowning.
He laughed. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”