“I’m going to put on your blindfold.”
She nodded.
“No protests?”
“I’m your perfect submissive, Sir.”
He shook his head. “Did you say that with a straight face?”
“No. But I tried.”
The gentleness, the teasing reminded him of another time, another place, before her actions had poisoned their love affair.
He walked around so that he could place the blindfold on her. Then he stepped back and looked at her. Unlike times in the past, she remained still.
The woman before him had an air of tranquility about her that he’d never seen.
“How do the nipple clamps feel?”
“Perfect,” she responded. “Because I know they please you.”
In that moment, he realized he was under her spell. “I want you to hold onto the wrist straps,” he said.
“You’re not binding me?”
“No. I want you to clearly understand that you’re free to walk away at any time.”
“That’s fine. I’m happy with you knowing that I’m staying. Of my own free will.”
He squeezed her breasts. Her moan was one of pleasure, and she leaned into the cross and him.
“Please beat me, Sir,” she invited. “Unless that was too bold?”
“Just the opposite,” he told her. He appreciated her words, the plea that was threaded through them. “It was perfect.”
He went to stand behind her then unclipped the flogger. This wasn’t a flogger for a sustained erotic beating, it was too mean for that.
Wanting to arouse her senses, he draped the strands over her shoulders. Then he rubbed her legs, buttocks and back lightly.
He skimmed his fingers up the inside of her thighs, but he didn’t touch her pussy.
“Yes, Sir,” she said softly.
Her words were husky, letting him know she was starting to slip into a more submissive mindset.
For a couple of minutes, he worked on her thighs and buttocks, massaging vigorously, giving her a few swats. “Are you warmed up?”
“That was only a warm-up?” she asked. Then, instead of saying anything else, she gripped the restraints tighter, silently letting him know she was ready.
“Hold on,” he warned her, picking up the flogger and taking two steps back.
“Yes, Sir.”
He caught the underside of her buttocks.
Her breath whooshed out.
A thick red mark appeared, and a feeling of possessiveness seared him. Its intensity shocked him. He was sure he’d moved past there where she was concerned.
He hit her again, this time with more force, lifting her onto her toes.
“Needed this,” she murmured.
Reece used the flogger again, scorching her upper thighs.
She hissed, but remained in perfect position, legs apart, her hands on the restraints. “More,” she said.
“Greedy sub.”
“Yes, Sir.”
When they had been lovers, partners, he had taken the time to ensure her sexual arousal. Reece had never beaten her for punishment, nor would he start now. He’d crafted scenes solely for her erotic pleasure. And sometimes he’d given her several orgasms a night.
This time, however, he used a slow, measured pace. It was sure to arouse her, but not satisfy her. He took great pleasure in that.
He had forced her onto her toes and his strokes kept her there.
Her buttocks turned a beautiful shade of red, and his cock hardened in response.
Reece made the tenth stroke his most powerful, and she screamed. Her knees buckled. Reece dropped the flogger and caught her. He took her shoulders and turned her, gathering her body against his.
In all of her appealing softness, disheveled hair, and damp cheeks, she accepted his comfort, burrowing her head against his shoulder as she shook.
“Shh.” He smoothed the silken strands and held her close, where she’d once fitted so perfectly, where he’d dreamt she always belonged.
In his arms, she was so small, seemed so vulnerable, incapable of inflicting the harm that she’d caused.
“You haven’t lost your touch,” she told him.
“I’m glad you approve.” Once he was sure that her legs were steady, he released her and took a step back. “How are you doing?”
“A little shaky,” she confessed. “Like I said, it’s been a long time.”
“Did it hurt worse than you remember?”
“Physically?” She met his gaze. “No. But this used to bring us closer. And I feel as if there’s a huge wedge between us.”
“There is.” Reece imagined that he could swim in the clear, honest, green depths of her eyes. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the idea. Whoever had said that the eyes were the window of the soul had been wrong. The night before she’d left, she’d looked at him and told him she loved him. Now, just like then, her eyes were wide, guileless. This was a woman who could lie to him without blinking. He’d do well to remember that.
“I wish…”
“Leave it, Sarah.” Clearly she longed for an orgasm. And if he lost his focus, he’d give her one. “Let’s get the clamps off you.”
“I sort of hate that worse than having them put on.”
“Would you rather do it yourself?”
She looked up at him. “No.”
He removed the first then took her nipple into his mouth, sucking until she reached for his shoulders. Then he did the same for her other nipple.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I was sure you were going to remember your manners,” he said.
“Better late than never?” she asked.
He pocketed the clamps before removing his shirt. He put it on her and buttoned it up. In the past, they’d often helped each other dress. It surprised him how naturally they’d fallen back into the habit. “Julien can arrange to have the room cleaned.”
She looked up at him, her head tipped back, the column of her throat exposed to him. He remembered the day he’d bought her engagement ring and the afternoon her collar had been delivered to his office. And he recalled the day she’d vanished without a fucking word.
He’d thought he’d moved past the hurt, but he hadn’t. He’d only buried it. And now it was back, raw and biting. Suddenly he wanted answers, and he wouldn’t be satisfied without them. “We’re going to talk. I’ll give you thirty minutes to freshen up. Then meet me at the Coral Reef. If you’re not there, you won’t like the consequences. This time, Sarah, there’s nowhere for you to run. Nowhere for you to hide.”
Chapter Two
Sarah shivered.
Needing to protect herself, she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Did you hear me?”
“I did,” she said.
He tapped a finger on her chest, and the sensation reverberated through her.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. Maybe this hadn’t been one of her better ideas. Part of her had actually believed that sceneing with him would help her get over him. Instead, it had made things worse.
In the years since she’d left him, she’d forgotten how masterful he was. But the moment the flogger’s strands had kissed her skin, the memories had flooded back. She’d remembered everything, from the first time he’d undressed her, to the first time he’d caressed her, to the first time he’d squeezed her buttocks before blazing her skin with his hand.
As she’d stood there, bound to the cross by her own volition, she’d again given herself over to him, knowing he would care for her. But she’d been unprepared for the way he had overwhelmed her senses.
When he’d entered the room earlier, she’d known it was him, even though she hadn’t been able to see anything and he hadn’t spoken. The forceful sound of the door slamming had ignited her nerve endings.
She’d wanted to look at him, drink in his tall, good looks. Remaining still had taken all of her resolve.
When he’d instructed her to kneel up, she’d been brea
thless.
The years they’d been apart had hardened him. Either that, or it was just her who brought out the steel in his eyes, in the rigidness of his posture.
No matter what, he still devastated her.
Standing in front of him, close enough that every one of her breaths was scorched by his scent, she yearned to run her fingers over his chest or bury them in his thick, dark hair. Her pussy throbbed with the need for his touch.
Always, he’d made her climax during or immediately following a scene. She keenly felt the absence of his touch.
Sarah had told Julien, and herself, that she knew what she was doing. Now, with Reece standing so close, and her being all but naked, she wasn’t so sure.
Until this moment, she’d underestimated his power over her. She’d been right to run. This man, more than any other, made her aware of her femininity and vulnerability. Before she was ready, he scooped her from the floor, into his arms.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Taking you back to your room. You’re not traipsing through the resort half dressed.”
“I wasn’t wearing much more than this when I walked down here,” she reminded him.
He was already striding toward the door when he said, “Non-negotiable, Ms Lovett.”
His tone was curt. When he was like that, she knew better than to continue the argument. Instead, she sighed and wrapped an arm around his neck “I need my purse, Reece.” She pointed to a small clutch on a table.
He carried her to fetch it.
“This is ridiculous,” she said as she snatched up the bag. “It would be easier if you let me walk.”
“What’s your room number?”
She realized he wasn’t going to respond to her statement. “Nine twelve.”
“Not a surprise. I’m on the ninth floor, as well.”
“Julien has a hand in everything,” she said.
Reece carried her from the meeting room and through the hotel’s lobby. She would have died from embarrassment except for the fact that there were women who were showing way more body parts than she was.
At the bank of elevators, Reece juggled her against his chest in order to push the call button.
Julien and an entourage, two bodyguards and five women, were walking through the lobby toward one of the bars.
He stopped but waved, indicating that the others should continue on. A bodyguard hovered nearby while the other herded the women toward the reverberating beat of a steel drum.
As always, Julien made an impression. His suit looked casual, but the cut emphasized his lean mass. He had left the top button of his white shirt open. He hadn’t shaved for at least a day and on him, the stubble was sexy, sexy. That he wasn’t surrounded by more than five women only meant that the evening was young.
“Judging by the fact you both seem to have lost some articles of clothing, I’d say the two of you have found you still have something in common,” he observed.
“I won’t thank you for meddling,” Reece said.
Despite his words, he tightened his grip on her, and he eased her closer to his body.
“Of course you will,” Julien said. Then he addressed Sarah. “I take it your plan didn’t work?”
A hot blush stung her cheeks.
“Plan?” Reece asked.
“Sarah wanted to exorcise the hold you had on her. I think you both owe me your everlasting gratitude. And, Reece, feel free to tell Kennedy to throw me a few hundred shares of the next company you’re going to take public. We can consider it a thank you as well as a birthday present. I know I’m difficult to shop for.”
“Piss up a rope.”
“Meet me on the basketball court in the morning. We’ll settle this like men.”
“Fair enough. And send someone to clean up the room.”
Julien nodded to the security guard who spoke into a microphone attached to his lapel.
The elevator dinged its arrival.
“Since you apparently have unfinished business, I’ll forgive you if you’re not at any of tonight’s activities,” Julien said. “But I fully expect both of you at my official party tomorrow night. Oh, and Reece, you may want to buy your woman some underwear.” He winked at her before moving off with his bodyguard.
Eyes narrowed, Reece glanced down at her.
“He was messing with you,” she told him. “This shirt is long enough that no one can see anything.”
He remained silent but carried her into the car and pushed the button for their floor.
“You can put me down now,” she said.
In response, he gave her a quick pinch.
“Ouch! Reece…” She wasn’t sure if she was protesting or saying thanks. Honestly she wanted to stay where she was. His strength gave her an odd sense of comfort.
In front of her door, he finally let her go. He took the key card from her and inserted it in the electronic reader before turning the handle to open the door.
“The Coral Reef,” he reminded her. “Thirty minutes. And be dressed in some decent clothes.”
With that, he left her.
Having no other choice, she went inside.
The air-conditioned coolness was a blessed relief, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, shaking. A couple of weeks ago, when she’d first had this idea, everything had seemed easy enough. She’d see him, scene, apologize, put everything to rest, and go back to her everyday life, having filed the past away, where it belonged. But things seemed to be getting more tangled with each minute.
Playtime hadn’t gone as she’d planned. In fact, she now had a good deal of sexual frustration woven alongside her doubts and questions.
The Reece who’d just carried her to her room wasn’t the same man who’d entered the meeting room. He’d gone from not wanting to touch her to a fiery Dominant. This man was also different than he had been two years ago. That much was inevitable, she assumed. They’d both grown and changed.
At one time there’d been a light in his eyes when he’d looked at her, a softness in his voice when he’d spoken to her. Even when he’d given her orders, there had been an undercurrent that had reassured her of his love. But now…? Her hands shook from the attack of nerves.
If she were smart, she’d enlist Julien’s help in getting off the island.
Yet she’d promised herself, and him, that she was no longer the type of woman who ran. They could talk, have dinner then part in a friendly way. Nice and tidy.
But that idea didn’t take into account the marks on her back or her twisted insides.
It was unusual for him to leave her alone after a scene. He never had before. Angst churned inside her.
Frustrated on all levels, she went into the bathroom, unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it from her shoulders. For a few seconds, she held the lightweight material against her nose and breathed in the scent of him—expectation, determination and a warm, tropical breeze.
Telling herself that she was being fanciful, she dropped the garment, letting it pool onto the floor. Then she realized she hadn’t been fanciful. The same scent clung to her skin. It was as familiar as her own name.
She turned and caught sight of a welt on her backside. The beating had barely been an appetizer. She was horny, and she wanted him.
Damn it.
Sarah stepped beneath the shower’s spray, rested her forehead against the tile, closed her eyes then slid her hand between her legs.
Recalling the image of the flogger in Reece’s strong hand, she rubbed her forefinger across her clit. Then she reimagined the jolt from the first strike. No matter how much she was expecting the impact, the first stroke always caught her somewhat off guard. This time it had been magnified by the fact that it had been so long since she’d scened with him.
Until he’d had her reach for the straps, she hadn’t been sure that he’d even play with her. That emotional uncertainty had added to the nerves holding her rigid.
The delicious, biting caress of fifty leather strands on her bare
skin had brought tears to her eyes, but only partially from the pain. For weeks, she’d been fantasizing, hoping, wishing that she could be with him again. Then, when it had happened, she’d been overcome with joy and relief.
That the lashes had been delivered by the only man she’d ever loved had been divine.
Sarah rubbed her clitoris faster and faster.
Her knees wobbled as the orgasm built. How had she ever thought life would be okay without Reece? And, worse, how had she let herself believe that one scene with him would help her to forget him?
When the hell had she become a master of self-deception?
With her left hand, she pinched her right nipple. The physical spike of endorphins from the momentary pain was all she needed, and she cried out his name as she orgasmed.
For a few minutes she stayed there, until she could stand up and draw a full breath.
She soaped her body and rinsed off in cool water, hoping that she’d look more collected than she felt when she met Reece.
She was still in the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, when she heard a knock on the door.
Her heart leaped, and she was half worried, half hoping that Reece had come looking for her.
Instead, a smiling housekeeper held her skirt, corset and thong. As always, Julien had gotten results. Sarah thanked the woman, gave her a tip then checked the time.
Realizing she had to hurry in order to not keep Reece waiting, she dumped the pile of clothes on the bed then dropped the towel on the floor. She reached for a lacy bra while she debated what to do about the panties. Reece had chastised her for wearing them. But then he’d been offended when Julien had pointed out her lack of underwear.
It probably didn’t matter, she thought as she wriggled her slightly damp body into a pair of boy shorts. Reece had seen her naked and had obviously not been tempted. That she’d had to take care of her own orgasm stung much more than his whip had. The approving note in his voice when she’d removed the corset had given her hope. But he had avoided her pussy when he’d run his fingers up the inside of her thighs. When he’d sucked on her nipples, her expectations had soared. But since he hadn’t touched her and he had passed up an unspoken invitation to fuck her, she suspected that he’d never know what she wore next to her skin.
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