by Measha Stone
She’d spent her afternoon digging into the victim’s past. Susan James didn’t have a record. Not that Sophie would have expected one, with such a posh background. Susan appeared to have the sort of money that could buy her way out of any trouble she found herself in.
Ugh, focus.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed the doorbell and waited.
The door swung open, and there he stood. Her mouth dried. He wore another black shirt, button-down, this time. The material stretched over his shoulders and arms. She doubted there were shirts made to accommodate his particular physique. If he arched his back, would the seams pop and give her a full view of his muscular build? His sleeves rolled to his elbows showed off the tats on both of his forearms. How had she not noticed those before?
It took a moment, but she finally found her mind again and realized he’d greeted her.
“Hi.” She threw on a smile and shoved the bottle of wine at him. “I brought this.” Excellent. Very smooth.
“Thanks.” He stepped aside, letting her into his condo.
She cased the joint, keeping her mind busy so she’d stop trying to visualize him naked. Clean. Organized. Casual. Just about what she’d expected from him.
“Décor by Bed Bath & Beyond?” She laughed softly and pointed at the canvas print of a city skyline. It could be any city but definitely wasn’t D.C. Chicago maybe?
“Yeah. Not much of an interior designer. Just shopped from the catalogue,” he admitted and helped her out of her coat.
“Easy way of doing it,” she said. This was awful. Small talk? Horrible.
“Come on, I have dinner all ready.” He grinned and placed his hand on the small of her back again. That gesture, so simple, so light, sent her body into a tailspin of desire.
She’d had boyfriends before. A few had done the same; it wasn’t some secret move. But it had never felt like his hand. Maybe his was bigger. Maybe he had a higher body temperature and that made her feel so damn warm every time he did it.
“You cooked?” she asked, following him into the living room.
“If by cooked you mean dialed the phone, then yes. Hope you like pizza.” He placed the bottle of wine on the coffee table beside the pizza box and paper plates.
She peeked inside the box. “Cheese?”
“Didn’t know what you liked, so I figured cheese would be safe.” He handed her a plate. “Grab some. I’ll get this wine opened and poured.”
“Actually…” She stopped him. “Any chance you have beer?” Wine wasn’t a pizza drink.
His lips spread into a wide grin. Hell, he was sexy when he smiled like that—like she’d just pleased him. “Yep, be right back.”
She grabbed a slice of pizza. Sliding it onto a plate, she sat on the couch, pushing her back into the corner. He returned with two bottles of beer and placed one on the end of the coffee table nearest her.
“So, how was the rest of your day?” he asked, snagging a slice for himself.
“Good. The usual. Research. Digging into her history, but I didn’t—” She stopped talking when he shook his head at her.
“No. We aren’t talking about the case. Tonight, we are just two people having pizza.” He took a large bite of his. Cheese strung out and dropped onto his chin as he pulled the slice away. Even sloppy, he was hot.
“Okay. Right.” She bit into her pizza. It probably tasted delicious, but he moved over to sit closer to her, and all parts of her brain were redirected to deal with the tingling sensation only he seemed to bring to the party.
Sitting in the living room instead of at his dining room table, or out on the patio should have put her more at ease. Casual dining. Not so much date dining, but just having him so close fogged her brain.
“Did you have an activity you were hoping to spin the other night?” he asked, as if he needed to derail her further from any sort of work talk. He wasn’t wrong. If left to her own devices, she’d be bringing them right back to the case. It was what she knew, what she could talk about with confidence.
“No, well, not really.” She bit into the thick crust. Noting he’d already eaten his entire piece, she gave him bonus points for not skipping the crust. Why anyone would do that made no sense to her whatsoever. Ruined a perfectly good piece of pizza.
“Which means you did, so what were you hoping to roll?” He slid his paper plate onto the table and grabbed his beer.
“What about you?” She stuffed the last bite of crust into her mouth.
He shook his head again and arched a brow. “I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.” He took a sip of beer.
She swallowed back the sarcastic retort tingling in her mouth. Would he spank her if she didn’t answer him? Tempting.
“I guess something light. Impact play, maybe?” She tossed her paper plate onto the table. Getting the one piece down had been hard enough with the nerves firing off in her brain, trying to eat a second while he wanted to talk play activities wouldn’t end well.
He smiled. “Impact play can be light or heavy. Almost any of the activities they had listed could go either way.”
“Breath play can be light?” She really didn’t know much about it, other than what’d she’d read, and seen in the multitude of videos she’d watched over the years. But nothing about it looked lighthearted in the least.
“It can be. Everything can be done with a varying degree of intensity. Even knife play, although the light play might be heavy play to someone.” He pushed his bottle onto the coffee table.
No one was coming at her with a knife.
“Knife play, hard limit?” He grinned. He must have seen the concern on her face.
“I don’t like them.” She swallowed hard. Did he like them? Did he play like that? Drawing blood for fun?
“Good. I’m not much of a fan, either. Though watching a knife scene can be exciting.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” She shrugged.
“Maybe not. I’m sure there’ll be some play at the club we can watch.” He rested his hand on her knee. “So, impact play is what you were hoping for, or you thought that would be the least intense?”
How the hell could she think with him touching her? “I figured it would be the safest starting point.”
He rubbed her knee. “You said your boyfriends have spanked you before?” He used his settling tone, the one he used when he wanted the suspect to feel at ease in hopes he would spill usable information, if not a full confession.
She wasn’t so easily played.
“I have a list for you.” She hopped off the couch. How could she have forgotten? She’d made the list knowing this exact thing would happen. He’d touch her or look at her, and she’d stop thinking coherently. Good thing she planned ahead.
“A list?” He stood from the couch but didn’t follow her to the front hallway where she’d left her purse.
She returned, holding it, and waved it in the air. “This way we don’t have to have this long drawn-out conversation. These are the things I’d like to do, learn about.” She thrust the folded loose-leaf paper at him.
He arched both eyebrows and took it from her, held eye contact while unfolding it then glanced down. His lips formed a straight line, his pulled-down eyebrows almost matching them.
“Like a limits list?” It sounded like he was trying to lead her to the right answer.
“Well, no, not exactly. I think that list would be longer? I don’t know. But these are things I want you to do.” She watched his expression, and her stomach dropped again. Obviously, she didn’t give him the right answer.
“Was there a particular order you wanted me to do these for you?” he asked, still reading the list. It wasn’t very long, only ten items. Maybe he didn’t know what some of them were.
“No, I don’t think that’s necessary.” She leaned over to see the paper. She’d written it, but since he still hadn’t glanced up at her, she wondered if something else was holding his attention.
“Get down on
your knees.” He folded the paper, first in half and then again. His voice dipped. A new tone. Darker. It matched the firm line of his jaw, and the shadowed look in his eyes when he tilted his head and found her gaze.
“What?”
“Get on your knees, Sophie. Right now. Fold your hands behind her back and grip your wrists. Do not say another word until I give you permission, and don’t get up.” He stuffed her list into the back pocket of his jeans and pushed the coffee table toward the entertainment center, putting more space in front of the couch.
He didn’t sound mad, just firm, but he seemed upset. Like she’d just cut his manhood off or something. Maybe the list was too long?
“I was just giving you some ideas.”
“Knees,” he simply said and stood with spread legs and his arms crossed.
Did he practice that scary expression in the mirror? How did he know how much to narrow his eyes and tense his muscles in order to get her body moving without terrifying her into running away? Although, she supposed a woman who didn’t know him might see this expression and hightail it for the door instead of sinking into a soft submissive state.
She sank to her knees, unable to keep her eyes on him while she did so. The soft area rug cushioned her knees, where her leggings failed. Maybe changing into the leggings and sweater outfit had been a mistake.
When he didn’t say a word or move, she realized she’d forgotten her hands, and quickly rectified that by grabbing her wrists behind her. Her stomach rolled with nerves, her chest constricted with concern, but when he approached her and squatted, bringing his eyes level with hers, she melted.
He reached out and fisted her hair, tugging from the scalp and pulling her head back. “Hair pulling was on your list,” he reminded her when she opened her mouth. She wasn’t going to argue; she was just surprised. It hurt more than she thought it would. Her scalp burned from the pull, but it seemed minor when compared to the heated glare he gave her.
She’d done something wrong, obviously. Within ten minutes of starting, she’d ruined everything.
Scott ran the back of his hand along her jawline, keeping their gazes locked as moments ticked by. The comfort of his touch mingled with the burn of his possession slowly ebbed away her tension.
“Ah, there you are.” His stern expression softened, his lips pulled back into his casual smile. “How does this feel? Me taking control of the moment?”
She licked her lips. He’d said she couldn’t talk. Was the ban lifted because he asked a question? Taking chances didn’t always pan out for her, but when he didn’t continue, she figured the odds were in her favor.
“It feels warm,” she said. His brows pulled together, so she went on to clarify. “Like, inside, everything just got warm and easy. Not so cold and tense. Does that even make sense?” She sounded like a fool.
“Total sense.” He slowly uncurled his fingers from her hair and cupped her chin. “You don’t want to be in control, but you’ve never really given it up either. I’m guessing your boyfriends weren’t really into the lifestyle to begin with, and you probably made the list of rules and told them what the consequences should be. Am I right?”
Exactly right.
“I suppose,” she said, turning her gaze from his. Obviously, he could see too much from her expression. And she didn’t need to be giving up all her secrets on their first date.
He tilted her chin. “Eyes on me when I’m talking to you, Sophie.”
She conceded, seeing as his grip tightened and he probably wouldn’t let up until she did so.
“I’m happy to go over the list with you. They are things you’d like to experience, are interested in, and I should know them. But you can’t hand me a honey-do list when it comes to this, when it comes to us. We learn from each other what each other likes and doesn’t like. But I ultimately decide if you’ll get a spanking, or your hair pulled, or if I take my belt off and wrap it around your neck and face fuck you until you either orgasm or pass out.”
Wow. He’d already memorized most of the list.
“I’d prefer you not pass out, though.” He winked and patted her cheek. “You can sit on the couch.” He stood at his full height and helped her up from her knees.
Once she perched on the edge of the couch, she pushed her hair back behind her ears and forced herself to look up at him. He pulled the list back out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“I want you to rank these. The most desired to the least desired.” He walked over to the entertainment center and grabbed a pen from a drawer.
“It wasn’t easy making the list,” she said, taking the pen from him. The first items hadn’t even needed thought—spanking, a little rope bondage—but when it came to the harsher stuff, like the belt scenario, she’d only written them because she had planned to hand it over and let things play out.
What a fool she’d been. Who just hands over a list of things to be done to them as though Scott were some robot?
“It’ll be even harder talking about them, but don’t worry. I think I can get us through it.” He patted her knee and sat beside her. “Go on.” He tapped the paper then grabbed his beer.
She nibbled on her lip while contemplating the series of activities before her. Maybe making the list after watching a few videos on Pornhub had been a bad decision. She crossed off suspension bondage, remembering her motion sickness issue. She doubted anyone would find a sub vomiting while hanging upside down to be sexy. Then again, who was she to judge anyone’s kink?
Silence surrounded her while she worked. Even Scott remained completely quiet. Maybe he would start with the first item tonight. Just the prospect of having her bottom bared and spanked by his large hands made her squirm with arousal.
“What was that little thought?” he asked lightly.
She glanced up at him. Were her thoughts so transparent to him?
“Just thinking about these things.” She waved the paper.
He wouldn’t let it go. “Which one?” He moved closer and peered over the edge of the paper. She’d already finished marking them but needed another moment before they discussed them.
“Spanking.” She thrust the paper at him. Her face didn’t just heat, it was a damn inferno, but she was never one to back down. She’d written it—it’s not like it would shock him.
Though, the silence stretching between them after she answered didn’t exactly bolster her confidence in the situation.
“Do you want me to spank you tonight?” he asked, as if he were giving her the option of what movie to see. Could it be that easy? Just ask and ye shall receive?
“Well, I mean, if you’d like that.” She tucked her feet under her. Aloof. Good, disconnect, just a little. Enough to get her breath back under control with the way he was now staring at her.
Like he’d like to eat her for dinner instead of the pizza getting cold on the table.
He let out a breath and grinned. “It’s one of the things I’d like to do to you tonight.” He dragged his hand through his hair, ruffling the short blond curls.
“I mean, we can rent a movie or something if you’d rather. We don’t have to— I mean we did say it was just dinner.” She was rambling. She didn’t ramble. Damn him for making her so unsettled.
He clamped a hand over her mouth and grinned. “Here’s what I want from you tonight. Keep your mind on following what I say, answer any questions I ask, and just let yourself feel. No dissecting everything. Just go with what feels good.”
She’d heard that line before. Go with what feels good. Except most of the guys preaching such knowledge didn’t have any idea on how to make her feel good. But when his grin stretched into something a bit more menacing, her insides fluttered. He was already making her feel good, and he he’d barely touched her.
Since he still had his hand over her mouth, she answered the only way she could.
She nodded.
Chapter 7
Every reaction she had played so freely in her eyes. If she was trying to hide
from him, he would only have to keep her eyes locked with his. She could force her body to relax, shove a plastic smile on her lips, but in her eyes, he would see everything. And this woman, this strong, independent, fully capable woman was melting in his hands.
The submission had a sweeter taste when it came willingly and from a woman who easily stood on her own two feet. He wasn’t the rescuer type. Women who needed hand holding and strict rules in order to make them adult in an orderly fashion didn’t appeal to him, and they rarely lasted very long.
But Sophie didn’t need to be reminded to pay her cable bill. He didn’t need to text her to make sure she’d set her alarm for the morning. Hell, she probably had a to-do list with checkmarks next to her bed.
And here she was in his hands, wanting him to spank her. No not just wanting. The hunger displayed in her eyes wasn’t playing around. She needed it. He’d set her mind at ease, but now her body needed the same assurance.
Whatever fool had tried to dominate her in the past really had no idea what sort of jewel he had been holding. No matter. Their stupidity was his gain.
He released her mouth, enjoying the little red imprints of his fingers fading away on her cheeks.
“You’ve played a little bit. Have you been spanked with a brush or belt?” He ran his thumb along her jaw. She softened when he touched her like that, as though the connection with him made it easier. And given how hard his cock was, making it harder on her would only make his pants more constrictive. He’d save his fantasies for later. Right now, he had a bottom to spank.
“No, just the hand. Well, unless you count the time I got smacked with a belt when I was in high school. But he was just screwing around; he didn’t mean it.” She tilted her head with a gentle smile. She was cute when she rambled.
“Ah, and is that when you realized you might like to be really spanked?”
“I wanted him to do it again, if that’s what you mean. But seeing as he was my track coach, it would have been really inappropriate.”
He sat straight. “Why the hell would your track coach spank you?” He would hunt down the pervert first thing in the morning.