She regarded him somberly. “I’m not looking for an emotional connection.”
He chuckled and turned onto the road that led to her apartment building. “We’ve already established an emotional connection. I couldn’t have punished you if I didn’t like you, and you wouldn’t have let me if you didn’t feel something amiable toward me.”
Those alarms wouldn’t stop. “I’m not having sex with you.”
Sir pulled into the parking spot set aside for her apartment. “No, but as I said, we should come out of this with a solid friendship.” He killed the engine and palmed the keys before turning to face her. “You can never have too many friends, Pet.”
Especially when his family owns the company. She could read the subtext just fine. It screamed at her like bold print. She bristled under the implication. “Is that a warning, Sir? I prefer when you speak plainly.”
“No, it’s not a warning. It’s the truth.”
She sat stiffly, the purse strap around her neck and the handle of the whip hanging over her shoulder solid reminders of her exact position.
“Are you sore?”
She’d forgotten about the stripes he’d laid on her ass and thighs. They tingled a little, evidence they were fading away. “No, Sir.”
“Tell me what you need to relax and enjoy the day.”
The answer to that was easy. “I need to unpack my office and look over the current case files.”
“That’s what you want, not what you need.”
Since he didn’t want to accept her answer, she was unwilling to offer another. She sat in silence, waiting for him to get the message through his thick skull. He stared at her with those fathomless blue eyes, and she fought the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.
Finally he nodded. “Very well, but don’t say I didn’t ask for your preferences first.”
* * * *
Lydia cursed under her breath as she pushed another low-hanging branch out of her way. Sir stood a few paces ahead. He held out a hand, and she accepted his help up the rocky slope. It was either that or slip and slide the distance to the previous flat part. Nobody had told her she’d need hiking boots. Digging through her closet had yielded a single pair of tennis shoes, the closest thing she had to recreational footwear. Thankfully, Sir hadn’t commented on the extraordinary number of high heels she owned. Her love of pretty shoes was none of his business.
The trees parted abruptly because the land dropped away. Halting on the precipice, she looked out over the side of the mountain. Miles of red, gold, and green filled her field of vision. Shades of orange and yellow provided a bit more color. In a few places, clearings marked houses or businesses. In the distance, she made out the line of buildings that formed the small town. “Oh my God.”
Sir smiled. A bit of the ice in his eyes melted. “Breathtaking, isn’t it?”
In Michigan, vistas this expansive were invariably filled with water. Lakes stretched in the distance until they blended with the horizon. Vermont offered a different kind of sea. If the hike up this path hadn’t winded her, this sight would have knocked the air out anyway. “Gorgeous.”
When he’d ordered her to change into jeans and a sweatshirt, she’d furrowed her brow and regarded him suspiciously. She didn’t own a sweatshirt, which didn’t seem to faze him in the least. He’d promptly produced one of his for her to wear. Most Doms she’d dated spent their time ordering her out of her clothes, not ordering her into something that would provide head-to-toe coverage. Yes, he’d said he wasn’t going to pursue that side of the relationship, but she hadn’t quite believed him.
That was when she realized the second bedroom was full of his things. She should have looked into the drawers the day before. Maybe she wouldn’t have been so surprised by the idea of having a roommate.
She shoved the cuff of the sleeve up from where it had fallen over her hand and scratched an itch on her cheek. He’d offered to roll them up, but she hated the way rolled sleeves acted as weights to pull on her shoulders.
“C’mon. We’re almost there.” He turned and headed farther up the slope.
She followed silently, sneaking glances at one of the most spectacular sights she’d ever seen. This was something she’d remember for the rest of her life.
They reached a flat, rocky outcropping. Sir stopped there and sat down, his long legs dangling down the side that dropped away. If he slipped, he’d fall onto the top of a tree. She sat down next to him and took in the view. He withdrew a bottle of water from his jacket pocket and handed it over.
“Thank you, Sir.” Lydia drank half and handed it back. He finished it off. She waited for him to do or say something, but he just sat there and studied the scenery.
So slowly she barely noticed the change, tension drained from her shoulders. She stretched her neck to the side and tried to crack it. Nothing happened.
“We have a great chiropractor on staff.”
She glanced at Sir to find his gaze still glued to the colorful panorama. “Perhaps I’ll make an appointment.”
He gave a brief nod. “It’s a lot easier to fulfill your wish if I know what it is.”
“I don’t have a wish.” She sighed at the futility of it all. “Not one that you can fulfill.”
“Try me.”
Lydia took an emotional step back and tried to look at this from his perspective. He was a Dom who wanted to make her fantasy come true. That automatically elevated him above her previous Dom, who never seemed to understand what she wanted or needed. And it poked at the place in her heart that had never been able to completely heal after he’d abandoned her. A vision of the empty seat glaring at her from across the table in the diner flashed in her memory, haunting her. Meet me for dinner. He’d never shown.
She heaved that thought aside. He wasn’t offering anything like that.
“I want to sleep for six solid, continuous hours a night. I want my brain to shut off for a couple hours in the evening so I can relax.” Could he deliver those things for her? She didn’t know. When she had known him all those years ago, sleep hadn’t been elusive.
Sir shook his head. “Six hours of sleep? Lydia, you need more than that to stay healthy. Let’s go for eight.”
He sounded so serious. She stifled the urge to laugh. “And what do you want out of this? Wishes are always two-sided. That’s how they work.”
“I guess I want to help a beautiful, intelligent, strong woman sleep for eight hours each night after I help her shut off her busy brain for a couple hours. You asked to be disciplined. Tell me what you like and what you get from a session or a scene.”
Ahh, so he still liked to administer discipline. She kept her answer as general as she could. “I guess I’m like many submissives. I like to have options taken away so that I have no choice but to focus on my Dom or my pain. The sting keeps me on track, plus I like the way it soothes my nerves.”
He tore his gaze away from the view in a manner that made her think he’d been concentrating on her the whole time. “You like subspace.”
A million evasions came to mind. Lydia had always been able to count on her quick mind to supply any number of responses to a situation. But a deeper sense warned her to be honest. “Yes, Sir.”
He kept looking at her, and she wished he would go back to looking out over the side of the mountain. “You’re ashamed of what you want?”
Terrified that I’ll let you in, and you’ll break my heart even worse this time. She shook her head. “No. I’m just not at a point in my life where I want to get into a D/s relationship with anyone, even temporarily.”
A low-flying plane came over the mountain. The buzz of the engine echoed from one peak to another. It gave Lydia time to focus on her quandary. It was too easy to trust him. His very demeanor invited a submissive to lay her problems at his feet.
The two-seater disappeared before long. He scanned the tree line. “I remember that about you.”
She froze. Part of her hadn’t wanted this confrontation. “I didn’t th
ink you recognized me.”
He shook his head as if amused by her response. “And I wasn’t sure you recognized me. It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has. Things are different now.” Eight years loomed like a wall between them, but he didn’t seem bothered by it.
“They certainly are. No regrets, though.” He’d moved on. To him, it was a simple matter.
“Nope.” Lydia wished again that she could find a Dom who measured up, one who could make her forget his perfection. She might have agreed to leave the past behind them, but that wouldn’t make it go away. “What do you hope to get out of this?”
Sir turned to her. “As you know, a Dom gets the satisfaction of topping a sub. For this wish, I want to get inside your walls. I want to see you feel as comfortable and confident with your wants and needs as you are at work. You’re like a rose that’s been picked too soon, pretty layers all bundled tight and hidden. I want to be the person who helps you open up.”
Somebody save me from overconfident Doms and nature lovers. Another part of her wanted to rail at him bitterly for being the person who taught her to be wary. “I’m not a plant.”
He grinned, and his eyes sparkled in response to her challenge. “You need nurturing and care just the same.”
As she looked into his eyes, she realized he hadn’t changed. He wasn’t so hard to read after all. He really cared. She didn’t feel special, though. She had the feeling he cared about everybody. Eva had said her security detail was well liked. He most likely treated everyone the same way. That was probably what had attracted him to her in the first place—she was a project, and he liked a project.
WILDER WATCHED HER ass as they traversed the trail back to the main road. He couldn’t help himself. Her shapely rear practically begged to be spanked and kissed, whipped and soothed into submission by his hands. She would be on her knees, looking back over her shoulder, whimpering as a way to beg for more.
“Is this someone’s land?”
He’d parked in a small, flat clearing on the side of the road. It wasn’t a parking lot, just a place he’d carved out over the years. Lydia’s question pulled him from his imaginings. “Yes.”
“Are we trespassing?”
In point of fact, they were not trespassing. The land belonged to him, a gift from his grandparents when they had passed away ten years earlier. “No. We have permission. I hike here often, and I like to come here when I have serious matters to think through. Or sometimes I just like to get away from everything. Nobody knows about this spot.”
She paused at the passenger door to his Jeep and gazed up at him. The uncertainty in her eyes didn’t dim, but it did soften. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I won’t spill your secret.”
He opened the door for her and helped her into the seat. Of course she wouldn’t spill his secret. She wouldn’t share any secrets with anyone, including him. She was closed off, a fact Micah had noted in his interview notes and something hard to miss right now.
Her apartment wasn’t far from where they’d hiked. As he pulled into the parking lot, he waved a hand in her direction. “When we’re inside, I expect to maintain protocol for the majority of the time. You’ll use my title when you speak. You’ll secure my permission before leaving a room. If you have a request, you must kneel at my feet and wait to be acknowledged.”
He glanced over to observe her reaction. Nothing he said seemed to have bothered her so far. Outside of the slight pursing of her lips, she displayed no subconscious objection. Once, she had enjoyed kneeling at his feet. She had gazed up at him tenderly, trust and devotion blazing from her eyes.
But that was years ago, before he figured out that the magic was only one-sided.
“I will have you remove clothing only when necessary.”
He slid into a parking space and turned off the engine. The slight fall chill competed with the magnified sunlight streaming through the windshield, leaving a hot-and-cold feeling behind. He noted that she seemed to relax a little at his last directive.
The tip of her tongue played at a point on her upper lip. “This is negotiation?”
He nodded. Though he had presented his preferences as commands, she could nix anything right now.
“What kinds of things am I allowed to ask for?”
Wilder shrugged. “Anything you want.”
She seemed to consider this. He pictured her kneeling at his feet with a flogger in her hands, asking for a session to help her relax before dinner.
“And what are the punishments for not following your rules?”
He ran the checklist of items she’d approved through his head. “One to five lashes with the cane, depending on the severity of your offense.”
She shuddered. “Just not on my back, okay? I can handle a flogger there, even a cat. I can’t do canes or whips or paddles on my back.”
“Ass and thighs?”
She lifted her chin and nodded.
He couldn’t tell if she was reluctant to give him this permission or if she wasn’t sure of her answer. “Lydia, I need you to be certain.”
That tongue darted out again. He wanted to capture it in his mouth and suck on it. “Yes, Sir. I’m certain. I will ask that you bind me for punishments.”
“I’ll bind you anyway. I’m going to bind you after dinner.”
Whether in fear or anticipation, she shuddered again. Wilder smiled. He’d find out the truth soon. His closed-up little rose could only hide for so long. Perhaps he would rediscover the heart of the woman he’d loved and lost.
Chapter Five
“Undress, Pet. You may wear panties but not a bra. Come out into the living room in ten minutes.”
Wilder spoke from the doorway to her bedroom. He’d knocked, but he hadn’t ventured inside. Lydia got the feeling he wouldn’t violate her sanctuary by entering without an invitation.
Though she had unpacked the day before, he had given her time alone after dinner to put the rest of her things in order. He seemed to have an intrinsic understanding of her need for order, a predilection that hadn’t been so apparent eight years ago. Tidiness and organization brought peace and stability to her mind.
Dinner had been not at all what she expected. They had shared in the meal preparation, dividing the duties as politely as any two strangers thrown into an intimate setting might. Sir had determinedly broached topics until he hit upon one that interested Lydia and was neutral enough that she didn’t feel she was revealing anything important. They had both grown up playing lacrosse, and they both followed the international sport.
Thinking back, she couldn’t remember what they’d talked about all those years ago. She remembered flirting and many hours spent in bed, but she didn’t remember actual conversation.
Shoving aside her laptop—she had been reorganizing her schedule for the week, mostly because Master V wasn’t online—she closed the screen and shed her clothes.
The thick, soft carpet silenced her footsteps. She emerged from the hallway to find him measuring out lengths of rope. Several coils of varying thickness already lay scattered around the room. With a start, she realized his love of bondage had definitely evolved. He’d always been good with rigging, but this was different. This was Shibari.
The ancient art had less to do with bondage and everything to do with aesthetics. While she might be immobilized, she wouldn’t be tied open for her Master’s pleasure. She appreciated this shift in purpose from her previous experiences, but she also feared it a little. Some of the positions could be uncomfortable for the submissive to maintain.
“Sit on the edge of the platform, Pet. I’ll move you around as needed.”
Lydia didn’t remember there being a platform in the center of the living room before, and there wasn’t one now. He’d referred to the massive white coffee table that didn’t match the rest of the natural decor throughout the apartment. The heavy plastic-coated piece was smooth, the sheen worn down over the years with the agony and ecstasy of any number of submissives.
She sat on the edge of the chilly structure, happy she’d worn boy shorts to keep her lower half covered.
Not that it mattered. Sir didn’t seem to notice anything about her. He studied her with the critical eye of an artist, assessing her under an unreadable, cool blue gaze. For a second, she mourned the friendly, open face he’d allowed at dinner.
But this was the real Sir, and she had asked for this.
“Hold out your right hand.”
She did, expecting to find a rope slung around her wrist. He sat on the table next to her. The fresh pine scent of his soap filled her senses. Preoccupied with her thoughts, she hadn’t realized he’d showered after dinner. Using a small-gauge rope, he tied a series of intricate knots around her fingers and hand. By the time he’d worked his way to her wrist, delicate tendrils of peace had begun to wind down her arm. She marveled at the beauty of his rope work.
Then he lifted her hand over her head and brought it down behind her back. Her elbow stuck up behind her head, her forearm providing a bit of support for her neck. The satiny slide extended across her back and under her arm. Sir knelt on the floor near her feet and wove a pattern that framed her breasts.
Lydia longed for him to wind the ropes around her breasts, but he avoided touching them completely. Part of her felt a little cheated. She’d never once spent time with a Dom who didn’t try to have sex with her. Even Wilder.
By the time he finished, she struggled to remain still. In addition to tying her right hand behind her back, he wove her left hand into his design so that it lay immobilized and splayed across her abdomen. The bulk of the design covered her upper body, but he’d incorporated decorated lines that ensured her legs were denied freedom of movement.
He stepped back, his critical eye roaming his handiwork. “Beautiful. Pet, you look absolutely enchanting in ropes. How does it feel?”
It may have been an enchanting pose, but it wasn’t sexy. It didn’t expose her intimate tissues or make her feel at all vulnerable. If she were forced to stay tied up like this for any significant period of time, perhaps long enough for a good flogging, it would become torture. “It’s not very comfortable, Sir.”
Wanting Wilder (Safe Word: Oasis) Page 5