As he continued to pace the room, she wanted to hold him… or shake him if that’s what it took to get through. Instead, she remained seated on the edge of the table. “You were hurting as bad as the rest of us, but you put everyone else’s needs before yours. And in the year since, you’ve sat outside my office who knows how many nights to make sure I was safe.” She scrunched up her face. “That’s a real asshole, let me tell you.”
As she hoped, he wheeled around and stared at her incredulously. When he saw her smile, the corner of his mouth lifted. It was just a tiny fraction, but at least she’d managed to break his scowl.
She drew in a deep breath and reached for him, then sighed with relief when he took her hand. “So tell me again why you can’t be my Dom? We both know I need one… and I pick you.”
“What about the fact that I’m such an asshole, I’ve been in love with my best friend’s wife for years. You wouldn’t believe the fantasies I’ve dreamed up over the years.”
Muriel’s heart galloped in her chest, and a shiver ran down her spine as she thought about them fulfilling those fantasies together. He was so focused on being an asshole, he didn’t even realize he admitted being in love with her. And while she was thrilled with his confession and considered it ammunition for future use, she wasn’t about to point out the slip to him right now.
“But you never acted on it.” She snorted. “Even when Ian had me on display, willingly sharing me, you never took advantage of that.”
His stare turned dark and fierce. “No… Because with you, it isn’t playing.” His jaw clenched a few times before he turned away and resumed his back and forth across the room.
“You need more than a Dom, angel. You need a permanent life partner. I assume you’ll want to remarry. You need someone to come home to at night… You deserve to be held while you’re sleeping… To have someone take care of you when you’re sick.”
She laughed. “Ian didn’t do all that. He didn’t like to be crowded in his sleep, and he didn’t have a clue how to take care of me when sick.”
Mathew swallowed and his jaw clenched. “If you were mine, I’d hold you all night, every night. And you can be damn sure I’d be right by your side, tending to your every need, if you were sick.”
“So why can’t you be mine? Permanently?”
“Because I don’t know how to do any of the other stuff a man is supposed to do for his wife. Hell, Muriel, I’ve never, ever taken a woman on a date.”
“Bullshit, you do know how to do those things. You’re just stuck on this endless loop of false thinking.” She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to calm. “As for dating… I know you’ve never gone on a real date.” When his eyes flared with surprise, she smiled and admitted, “I know more about you than you think. I’ve always been drawn to you and paid more attention than even I realized. I can show you how to date. Just give it… give us a try.”
His head went back and forth again, but hope flickered in his eyes and his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he considered her words.
After a moment, he said, “I’m always amazed by feminists who argue this lifestyle sets women back a hundred years. There isn’t a more kickass feminist on the planet than a sub. You may wear my cuffs and spend a tremendous amount of time on your knees, but you fucking own me. You’re the one who has me in chains, and there’s not a goddamned thing I can do about it.”
Her stomach bottomed out as her heart soared. She didn’t think for one second this would be easy—nothing worth fighting for was—but it sure sounded like he’d agreed to being more than temporary play partners, and joy launched her off the table and into his arms.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her head to the center of his chest. “Thank you, Sir. I can’t ask for more than a chance.” She pulled back and looked into his eyes, which were filled with a mixture of terror and wonder. “Would you like your massage now? Or would you like to save that for later and take me out on our first date?”
Chapter 14
Mathew wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t date, and for the first two hours of this one with Muriel, he felt like he was living someone else’s life. In high school, he’d had a few backseat hookups, but his only involvement consisted of picking the girl up at home and driving to a deserted spot or hanging out at her place if her parents weren’t home. In college, he used cheesy lines and free drinks to pick up girls. And as an adult, he hooked up with women at clubs who knew the score going in and never expected anything more than a one-time party. There were occasions when he played with the same sub for an extended period of time, but he never took them to dinner or a movie or a play, and he never, ever considered taking them to his or their home.
But as he helped Muriel from the car and led her to the elevator that would dump them directly into the foyer of his condo, a sense of rightness washed over him despite being completely out of his element. He just hoped he didn’t fuck up on the first night.
As the doors slid open and Muriel got her first look at his beachfront condo, her eyes flew wide with delight. “Oh, Mathew. This is beautiful.” She stepped off the elevator into the foyer and glanced around the space. A hallway leading to the guest rooms went off to the right. The dining room sat directly to their left. The living room, with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the Atlantic Ocean, sat front and center, with the kitchen nestled around the corner to the right. The master bedroom was to the right of the living room, and the balcony, which wrapped around the entire condo, was accessible from every room.
While she wandered around, taking it all in, he tossed his keys onto the side table, sorted through the mail the housekeeper left for him, then headed to the kitchen to put away dinner. Alma cooked for him two days a week, which left him to fend for himself the other nights. Since he and Muriel had enjoyed an amazing meal at Thoroughbreds, he would have Alma’s lasagna tomorrow night.
As he picked up the dish, fresh basil, mozzarella, parmesan, and tomato drifted to his nose, making him wonder if Muriel liked lasagna. Would she want Alma to continue cooking for them or prefer doing that herself? Would she want Alma to continue taking care of household chores or prefer doing those things herself?
He stopped halfway to the fridge and turned to stare across the room at Muriel, who was looking over his CD collection. What in the hell did he agree to? He was set in his ways, with an organized system for everything. How would he adjust to having someone else in his life?
He set the lasagna on the counter and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know how to take care of someone else—at least not beyond a couple intense orgasms. How the fuck was he going to make her happy?
“You look like you’re suffering from buyer’s remorse.”
His head snapped up and he locked gazes with her. “It’s not buyer’s remorse, angel. I’m just…” He pressed his hands to the top of the counter and dropped his head in defeat. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m supposed to be the one in control, but I gotta be honest… I don’t think I’ve ever felt more out of control. Not even in high school when I was totally out of control.”
“When you take on a case, do you know every step you’re going to make along the way?” She slowly made her way across the living room. “Or do you start with a few key pieces of information and build from there?”
Muriel was damn smart, and as she’d proved earlier in the evening, she would make one hell of an investigator… and mother. She already knew the answers before she asked questions, and he felt certain that was the case now. “You already know the answer.”
Her bright smile twisted his stomach into a knot while also bathing him with an odd sense of calm. “This is the same thing but better. You’re not building a case by yourself. We’re doing this together.” She rested her palm against his cheek. “Will you show me the rest of your home?”
He slid the lasagna into the refrigerator, then took her hand and led her through the condo, showing her the media room and the t
wo spare bedrooms before stepping out onto the balcony and circling back to the master suite.
He always considered the view of the Atlantic Ocean—which shimmered with light from the full moon—one of the most beautiful sights in the world. But Muriel, standing in the center of his bedroom, took top spot on his most-spectacular images list.
“Your home is beautiful.”
He laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”
She dipped her head and bit the corner of her lip as if embarrassed by the compliment. “Do you have a full schedule tomorrow?”
The quick change of subject caught him off guard, and he took a minute to figure out what day it was. He usually went into the office on Sundays, at least for a few hours, but other than that, he didn’t have any commitments. “Nothing concrete. Why?”
“Just wondering if you needed to be up early.”
She stepped to the side of the room by the closet, toed off her shoes, then turned to face him. Her demeanor shifted, softened, and as the strong-willed Muriel who ran her life with confidence—the same one who convinced him “dating” was a good idea—began to slowly slip beneath the surface, her submissive rose to the top and took over.
The transformation, similar to the one she made the first night at the club, was fascinating to observe. He loved both parts equally and was proud of the strong, confident woman who would never allow him to push her around in her day-to-day life. But the sultry submissive striding across his bedroom had him by the throat.
She sank to her knees, then bowed her head and rested her forehead against his leg, as if she couldn’t stand not touching him, even in some small way. She was exquisite in her submission, and his heart clenched with the knowledge that she was his… if he had the guts to accept what she freely offered.
He’d spent a lifetime seeing nothing but ugliness inside himself. He never took the time, or even had the thought, to find something decent within himself—not even while doing that exact exercise with everyone else in his life.
But she made a few valid points earlier that needed consideration. If he’d been a real asshole, he wouldn’t have maintained his distance all those years. If he’d played with her, he wouldn’t have given a damn about the sanctity of her marriage or vows. But he had cared.
The reality of their current situation was she was single, she wanted him, but he was still holding her at arm’s length because he didn’t think he was good enough. He rubbed his chin and considered the possibility he wasn’t the piece of shit he always believed.
According to her and Lucas, Ian would’ve given his blessing on a relationship between Muriel and him, so maybe… just maybe with her help and continued belief in him, he could pull this off. She was definitely worth the risk of stepping out of his comfort zone—which, admittedly, hadn’t ever been all that comfortable.
When he speared his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp, she moaned as her head relaxed farther against his leg.
“Do you ever get massages for yourself, angel?”
“Occasionally, but Cynthia’s fingers don’t have the same magical touch as yours, Sir.”
He chuckled and rubbed her head with both hands. She visibly melted under his touch, and his heart pulsed with pleasure at being able to do something nice for her for a change.
“Take off your clothes and lie in the middle of the bed. Other than what I’ve picked up from you, I don’t know anything about giving a massage. But I’ll do my best.”
And for the first time in his life, he seriously considered the words and what they meant. For Muriel, he would do his best while also doing whatever was necessary to be his best.
Muriel wasn’t sure what changed from the time they began touring his home until now, but there was a definite shift in Mathew. He was more at ease, a little more playful than usual, and she was thrilled with the changes. This was the man she glimpsed that first night when Lili approached him—the man whose soft, tender expression turned Muriel’s insides to mush.
“Lie on your stomach so I can start with your back and finish with the front.” His tone dropped at the end of the sentence, giving her the impression the ending would be more than an ultra-relaxing foot rub like she gave her clients.
His king-size bed was soft and luxurious, and she melted into the mattress. And that was before he straddled her thighs and stroked the back of her head again. She loved having her head rubbed and wasn’t sure anything had ever felt this good.
But then he moved to her neck and shoulders. Oh God, that’s good too. His hands were firm but not overly rough, and he applied the perfect amount of pressure to work out the kinks without accidentally binding the muscles or pinching nerves.
He’d removed all his clothing except his boxers, and his thickening erection pressed against her backside. She wanted to lift her hips and rub against him, but she forced herself to lie still and accept his gift of a massage without trying to steal more than he willingly gave.
However, she didn’t want him to think her inaction meant she wasn’t enjoying his efforts, so she didn’t hold in the moan of satisfied pleasure pressing against the back of her throat. “I can’t tell you how amazing that feels. Thank you.”
His hands continued to work down her spine until they reached the small of her back. He scooted a little farther down her legs, and the bed shifted, like maybe he’d sat up on his knees. The move would put more space between them so he could—
She gasped as he ran his hand down the center of her ass, then moaned again when he didn’t stop until he stroked the folds of her sex and circled her clit.
Sliding his finger inside, he chuckled and said, “Mmm… wet. Just the way I like you.” His low, sexy murmur seeped into the crevices of her heart and curled up for a long—probably permanent—stay.
“You have that effect on me, Sir.”
He slowly withdrew his fingers, then trailed them up the crease of her butt to put a tiny amount of pressure on the tight bud he had yet to breach. The nerves in that area were so sensitive, she couldn’t help but jump and twitch at the contact.
“What are your feelings on anal sex, angel? Is it a favorite, or do you simply tolerate it?”
She drew in a shuddering breath as he continued to slick more juices around the sensitive area, as if preparing her for entry. Answering as honestly as possible, she said, “I like anal play, Sir, but sometimes actual penetration isn’t all that great.”
His rich, hearty laughter cascaded over her like a warm shower. “Duly noted. We’ll have more conversation about that later and figure out how to make sure it’s always satisfying.”
After another moment of play around her ass and pussy, which revved her up so much she could barely lie still, he moved on to her thighs and calves and then massaged the bottoms of her feet.
Her body was on fire with need, and she was pretty sure she’d spontaneously combust if he didn’t fuck her and soon. But rather than giving her what she desperately wanted, he rolled her over, then straddled her thighs and slowly, tenderly stroked her face.
He’d taken great notes during his massages and was doing an incredible job, but all she could think about was the thick, heavy cock tenting the front of his boxers and how desperately she wanted to touch it, lick and suck it, and take him deep inside.
“Close your eyes and relax, Muriel.” He laughed. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?”
“Yes, Sir. But just like when you’re lying on the table, it’s difficult to relax when all I can think about is how badly I want—” She gasped as he brushed the tip of her nipple, then gave it a tweak. “Make that… need you.”
“Yeah?”
His tone was light and teasing, so unlike his normally gruff and surly demeanor. She loved the tightly held Mathew who always kept distance between himself and the rest of the world, but this man was dangerous in ways his rougher personality never was. This Mathew had the power to strip her bare, consume her, then leave her a devast
ated shell if he ever decided she wasn’t what he wanted.
And for the first time since beginning this… thing, she considered the possibility that she’d made a terrible mistake. She’d known she would be risking her heart to get involved with another man, but Mathew was a bigger flight risk than most. And in a few short weeks, he’d already worked his way so far under her skin she wasn’t sure she would survive without him.
His face appeared in front of hers, his eyes filled with concern. “Where did you go?”
“I’m right here.”
His eyes narrowed as his hand dropped to her breast and pinched her nipple. “Don’t ever lie to me.”
“I’m not lying, Sir. I was thinking of you…” She swallowed and tried to look away, but he increased the pressure on her nipple, causing her to gasp at the sharp pinch as she snapped her gaze back to his.
She couldn’t tell him she’d fallen in love with him. Even though he’d admitted to loving her for years, she feared making an equal declaration too soon. Being as honest as possible without completely giving herself away, she said, “I was thinking about how much you mean to me, Sir. You’ve become very, very important in a short period of time.”
His expression softened, and he lowered his mouth to her abused flesh. His tongue circled the tight bud, causing her to moan and arch her back so she pressed deeper into his mouth as another flood of moisture filled her pussy.
His head came up, and as he glanced at his sleigh bed headboard, a comical expression crossed his face. “Jesus…” His head bounced from side to side as he looked around the room. “I need to get an entirely new bedroom suite. Nothing in here will work”—his gaze heated and he dropped his forehead to hers—“now that I have a sub to keep tied up and accessible to my every whim.”
Knowing he’d never played with other subs at home caused her heart to flutter. Being called his, when he never claimed other subs, left a logjam of emotion in her throat, making it nearly impossible to swallow.
Coveted (Pandora's Playground #1) Page 16