Her conscience had attempted to chime in on occasion—like when she’d picked out the six-hundred-dollar Hugo Boss booties with the metallic chains that draped over the instep, but she’d managed to squash the little bastard into a tiny mewling ball. It wasn’t every day that she spent thousands upon thousands of dollars on herself, and after all, the man had practically bullied her into it. Practically.
Of course, the jolt of fear she’d received when Nick had leapt away from her in the marketplace had only made her more determined to distract herself, and him, from thoughts of Keenan Shy. She wasn’t going to spend her time brooding about him. Bad enough that she wasn’t working and was sponging off Nick.
With a sigh, she set all the bags on his couch. She wasn’t certain where Nick wanted her to put her stuff. In his bedroom seemed a bit invasive, so she was thinking the guest room, but at the moment she was too hungry to do anything except chase down the food.
Nick had already headed toward the kitchen, trailing the scent of egg rolls and fried rice behind him. She turned on the overhead lights for him, the bright bulbs reflecting off all the shiny surfaces. If she lived here, she’d add a plant or two, maybe a pop of color to the backsplash—all the chrome and white was impressive, but . . . She caught herself. She did live here, for the moment, but it was temporary.
“I am so hungry,” she growled, taking the bags from him and setting them on the counter. Nick went to put down the shopping bags with the rest while she pulled plates out of his cabinets—again white—and opened all the magic boxes with the red Chinese characters. Sticking an egg roll in her mouth, she found a spoon and began scooping fried rice out onto the plates.
Nick came back in and laughed, pulling the egg roll out of her mouth and taking a bite himself. “No one would know that you ate an entire pizza and a salad just this afternoon.”
“Mmmm.” Blake finished chewing her bite of egg roll. “Are you trying to say I’m a pig?”
Nick managed to keep his face straight as he slid his eyes down her body. “No.” He touched her hip. “I was just suggesting that you have a healthy appetite.” His eyes fastened on her breasts.
Blake let her lashes fall to half-mast. “Why don’t you give me another bite of that egg roll, handsome?”
He did, holding it up to her lips.
With a deliberately seductive pout, Blake wrapped her lips around the end of the egg roll, her eyes laughing.
He was shaking his head even as she bit down and took a huge bite.
Handing her a napkin, he finished off the egg roll himself. “I don’t think that went the way you planned.”
She snorted. “Are you kidding? That went exactly the way I planned.”
She found a crisp white wine with pear notes in his wine fridge and opened it, letting it breathe while she located two white wineglasses.
“You know this stuff is terrible for you?” He spooned beef and peppers onto a bed of rice.
Shrugging, she poured two glasses of wine, then corked the wine and set it back in the fridge. “It’s not like I eat it all the time. I’ll cook something healthy tomorrow night.”
“You’re going to cook?” He added sweet-and-sour chicken to another section.
“I can cook. My mom taught me.”
Nick looked doubtful, carefully wiping sweet-and-sour sauce from his thumb with a napkin. “You never talk about your mom.”
She shrugged. “She died when I was little. My dad never got over it.”
“Where’s he now?”
“I’m not sure, actually.”
“You’re not sure?”
“Nope.” She picked up both wineglasses. “Bring the plates, sexy.”
She put the glasses on the coffee table, then moved the bags to the side while he set the plates down. He’d brought napkins and silverware as well.
He stopped for a moment, looking at the couch as if he’d never seen one before. “You know there is a kitchen table. Is there a reason we’re eating in the living room?”
“It’s cozier.” She sat on the couch, shivering a little at the cold leather, and curled her legs under her. “Don’t you ever eat in here?”
He sat next to her and handed her a plate loaded with food. “I usually sit at the table in the kitchen reading the news, or I bring it with me on my way to the office.”
“Right.” Blake saluted him with her fork. “The smoothies.” Spearing a piece of chicken covered in sweet orange sauce, she took a large bite.
He picked up his own plate. “They’re not that bad. I’ll make you one in the morning.”
She smiled at him. “You’re cute. I may not be working at the bar, but that doesn’t mean I’m getting up at the crack of dawn to drink smoothies with you.” She’d called Kevin earlier to explain the situation and tell him that she wouldn’t be in for a while. He’d told her to be careful.
They chewed in silence for a while as he digested that piece of news. “So what do you want to do?”
“You sound terrified.” She chuckled. She couldn’t really blame him.
She had actually been thinking about this. She knew she couldn’t sit around and do nothing. What’s more, Nick knew it as well. “Well, I can help with this mystery video game project you have in mind for the kids, but I was also thinking that I could do some work online for school. You cool if I borrow your Mac?”
“Why don’t I just buy you your own?”
Blake smiled. “Afraid I’ll find out all your secrets?”
“Yes,” he said easily.
She laughed. “What secrets could you possibly have left after ten years?”
He didn’t answer.
Studying the carefully closed look on his face, she pursed her lips. “Addiction to anime porn?”
He snorted.
“Illegitimate child?”
“Be serious.”
“Fear of paisley?”
He gave her an incredulous look. “That’s not a thing.”
“Oh, it’s totally a thing. Remember Samuel?”
Samuel had been one of her brief dating forays prior to Carlos. She’d met him while working at the perfume counter and had gone out on two dates with him.
“Vaguely.”
“The one with the smartcar who was doing that juice cleanse diet.”
Nick nodded. “The gym rat.”
“Yeah, well, I showed up for our third date wearing a paisley top and he freaked out. Asked me if I would go home and change.”
Nick smiled widely, flashing his dimple, and Blake felt her heart just kind of stutter and fall over in her chest.
To hide her sudden discomfort, Blake set her empty plate on the table and picked up her wine, watching him as he finished eating. He ate the way he seemed to do everything, with precision and grace. When he was finished, seemingly unperturbed by her gaze, he gathered up both plates and disappeared into the kitchen. Odd man. She heard the sound of water running and knew he was probably loading the dishwasher. A man who didn’t just dump his dishes in the sink. Blake was a big believer in rewarding good behavior.
With a mischievous grin, she put her wine aside and gathered up all the shopping bags, carrying them into the guest bedroom, which was nicer than any hotel room she’d ever seen. The decorator had chosen light gray for the walls with accents of black and white and pops of bright blue. The furniture was modern, like the rest of the house, with several framed drawings that looked like illustrations of sea voyages. She would have to ask Nick why he liked images of fishing and the sea.
She dumped all the bags onto the bed and turned on a lamp on the nightstand. As she began digging through them, looking for the bag with the lingerie he’d chosen, a knock sounded on the open door to the guest room. She turned around and saw Nick, leaning against the doorframe, muscles outlined by his T-shirt, his chin just beginning to show some blond scruff. H
e looked . . . hot.
“Hey, there,” she said simply. “I was going to surprise you.”
He didn’t move, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. “I hate surprises.”
Blake tossed the bag she was holding back on the bed and walked over to him, taking his chin in her hand and enjoying the way the bristles of his evening beard prickled the skin of her palm.
“You’re going to like this one. Meet me in your bedroom, naked.”
11
NICK HESITATED OUTSIDE the guest bedroom doors, which Blake had unceremoniously shut behind him. She wanted him to wait in his room, naked. He’d never taken orders in bed before and wasn’t sure why he would now, except that Blake had asked him to . . . and he was curious. What exactly did she intend to do to him?
Frowning slightly, he adjusted himself before walking across the hall into his bedroom. He’d thought, for some reason, that she’d be staying in his room with him while she was here. Part of him was glad she’d chosen the guest bedroom. He didn’t know how well he would have handled seeing evidence of her in the room he considered his space, but he’d just assumed . . .
Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he removed his shoes and carried them to his closet, putting them away in exactly the same spot he always did. Half of the walk-in was empty—he didn’t find clothing all that interesting—but her clothes would have fit just fine in the empty space. Glancing down at a small chest in the corner of the closet, he considered opening it, maybe taking out a few of the things he kept there.
No. With harsh, quick movements, he stripped off his T-shirt and shucked his pants, tossing both in the laundry bin. Naked, he walked through the master bedroom and into the bathroom, determined to clean up a little. He wasn’t entirely certain what she had in mind, but he was hoping that a surprise meant she was going to blow him. Just the thought of those lips wrapped around his cock made him harden painfully.
He turned on the shower and stepped inside before the water had warmed up at all, ignoring the goose bumps that covered his body. He scrubbed himself quickly and rinsed, then dried off with a towel, wrapping it around his waist and stepping up to the sink.
Glancing at the mirror, he rubbed his chin, feeling the bristles, and considered shaving, but he thought she might actually like the stubble, maybe between her legs. An image of her on all fours, the swollen folds of her pussy open for him, made him gasp. God. He wanted to tie her up again, this time thoroughly, lacing the ropes and knots on her body in the tradition of Shibari, until she surrendered, utterly and completely, to him. Until she admitted she was his.
He braced his hands on the marble counter and stared at his reflection. His.
I lied, he realized.
To himself. To everyone else. He’d said that he would never live with a woman because he liked his space and his routine, and women were the antithesis of the calm and control that dictated his everyday existence, but that was only a small piece of the truth. The bigger truth was that no other woman was like Blake Webster. No other woman could have shaken the calm that he’d worked so hard to achieve, because he hadn’t cared enough for them to matter.
He’d structured his life to avoid messy emotional entanglements. He’d seen his father fall in love over and over again, and when a woman moved in, at first Nick had fallen in love with her as well, looking for the mother that he’d never known. But they always left. Always. He’d learned not to care, not to attach himself too deeply to anyone. But Blake had snuck inside his guard and planted herself too deeply for his calm control to matter. The only reason he hadn’t beaten every man who touched her was because Blake wasn’t part of the everyday moments of his life. She wasn’t in his house filling the air with her perfume and making him eat Chinese food, or sitting on his couch, or about to surprise him with God knew what kind of kinky sex, and the part of him that he kept tied down, the part that was his father’s son, was starting to believe that she should belong to him. He was going to scare her away.
“My, my. What are we thinking about?”
Nick straightened and turned, surprised that he hadn’t heard the door. She could be quiet when she wanted to, like any good thief.
She was looking between his legs, at the erection that brushed his belly, but his gaze fixed on her body in the lingerie he’d selected, a black corset top that pushed up her breasts but barely covered her nipples, which peeked over the top of a delicate fringe of lace, a garter belt and black stockings, and black stilettos. She wore no underwear. He could clearly see the thatch of blond curls between her legs.
He felt his mouth go dry.
“I had so much fun with the ropes last night, I thought it would be fun to give you a turn,” she said sweetly, and held up a set of bondage restraints that looked very familiar. The restraints included wrist and ankle cuffs chained together with a collar around the neck for the submissive to wear.
He swallowed.
“I found these in your closet.”
“The chest was locked,” he said automatically, knowing that it didn’t make any difference.
“Uh-huh. I had no idea you were so kinky, Mr. Cord.”
Nick had never worn that bondage gear in his life. He had—occasionally—entertained women who were amendable to a little rough play, but he wouldn’t have suggested that Blake wear it, not yet anyway, not when she’d been abused in the past.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, trying not to show how desperately he wanted to see her chained and collared for him. He wanted that.
She smiled at him sweetly. “I know. I’m tempted to make you wear it. You’d wear it for me, wouldn’t you?”
Nick began to sweat. Would he? Could he surrender himself to her, let her chain him? He could always free himself. Blake probably could as well. The point wasn’t that he couldn’t escape, but that he would willingly surrender.
“Yeah,” he managed and swallowed. “If that’s what you want.”
She weighed the restraints in her hands, the chains jingling as she moved. Nick shivered at the sound, imaging the collar being strapped around his neck. He hated being vulnerable, hated it.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” she said softly. “But it’s not what you want.”
What he wanted was to toss her on the bed and fuck her, quickly, roughly, and stop having to think so much. He wanted to lose himself in her, in the hot warmth of her body.
“I want you to be happy, enjoy yourself.”
A blinding smile bloomed over her face. “Damn. Well, I guess you’re going to have to put it on, then. I want to torture you a little.”
Nick swallowed and approached, feeling awkward and stiff as he came closer and closer to her. She’d brushed out her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders, and she smelled clean, like she’d washed up just as he had.
When he was standing in front of her, close enough to reach out and touch, he stopped and waited.
She swallowed, her eyes a little wide. “What part do I put on first?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Hmm.” She eyed him, her breath already speeding up as she reached out and took one of his hands. With a small sigh, she brushed his knuckles over the hard nipples peeking over the edge of the corset top.
He held his arm up, resisting the urge to cup her breast, as she secured his left wrist with the restraint. His right wrist followed. The chains descended to a small connecting loop. From the loop, chains extended to the ankle cuffs. She knelt to secure his ankles and he let his hands drop, chained in front of him as they were. Her knuckles brushed his ankles and he closed his eyes, feeling the leather cuffs wrap snugly into place.
He heard her straighten in front of him, but he kept his eyes closed, trying to keep his breathing regular and even.
“How does that feel?” she asked quietly.
Like he was vulnerable, like he couldn’t escape. He felt like sn
arling. He could escape whenever he wanted. He knew that. “Fine,” he managed gruffly, willing her to hurry up.
The chains clinked. He could feel a slight tugging on his wrists, like a fish on the end of a line, as she lifted the collar in place around his neck. The collar connected to the wrist cuffs from chains attached to metal rings on either side of his neck.
When she was finished, she stepped away and his eyes snapped open. She was staring at him. Even as he watched, her hand descended in between her legs and she touched herself, distracting him from his discomfort.
“I guess I do like this,” she said softly. “I’m wet.”
Nick felt his face redden and he shifted in his chains.
“Shhh . . .” She stepped forward and brushed his lips with the fingers she’d put between her legs. “Can you taste how much I want you?”
He smelled her first, the musky salt scent of her flesh imprinted on his brain for all time, and, without thinking about it, took her fingers into his mouth and sucked, tasting her as she’d asked.
She moaned, her free hand going to his chest to tease and stroke his nipples. “I love it when you touch my breasts,” she told him. “It’s like you know just how much to pinch before stopping, how to rub me so that I can’t think of anything except your cock inside me.”
Nick bit down on her fingers, just enough to hurt, and she gasped.
“Naughty,” she told him, removing her fingers from his mouth and trailing them down his arms, over his bound wrists, to the head of his cock, where a small bead of moisture had escaped.
She touched the pearly drop and brought her fingers to her own lips, tasting him. “Fair’s fair,” she said softly, meeting his eyes as she took the tip of her finger in her own mouth.
Nick tried to reach for her with his bound hands, but she stepped away. “Stay still, darling. I’m going to take that dick in my mouth. Would you like that?”
A French Whipping Page 11