His stare turned dark, his face like granite. “You what?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I wanted to come in and see for myself what all the fuss was about, okay?”
Truth was, she might have been heading straight for that club without knowing it. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. And she was not going to admit why she was upset. He didn’t know her, and though she’d slept with him, it didn’t mean she had to share her deepest secrets with him. Though she’d kind of already done that by admitting she liked the things he did to her body. As secrets went, that was a big one.
A smile quirked up the side of his mouth, and he finally turned his attention back to the road. She sighed in relief, but her breath came in short gasps, and her heart still thundered. For a man who was a Dominant, who seemed to have this deep-seated need to control the women around him, he sure had a way of making her feel out of control.
“You said fuck again,” he said, glancing at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”
He glanced at her again, then back at the road, then at her again.
“What?”
The look on his face was almost hesitant. No, that couldn’t be right. It must be a trick of the light, or she was projecting her uncertainties onto him, seeing them reflected in his eyes instead of reading his thoughts. No way could Chase Masters be unsure of anything.
“Turn left here,” she said, remembering at the last second they were nearing her house. She ignored the sinking feeling in her gut that he’d be dropping her off soon. She wanted to be away from him. Needed to digest the past several hours in the peace and tranquility of her quiet house. He turned, and she slid sideways from the force. But she couldn’t quell the disappointment that they’d be parting ways soon. God, she was screwed up.
He drove in silence for the next few minutes until pulling into the driveway in front of her cottage-style home. It had been a gem to find a New England cottage in Nevada, and she loved her little house.
Chase turned to face her. “Why did you kiss me?”
Crap. She hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. She didn’t know. It had been an impulse she’d been incapable of controlling. “Um, ’cause I wanted to?” She sounded unsure even to herself. Ugh. She didn’t want to analyze this. At least not with him six inches away, scrutinizing her with that stare of his. It saw too much of her that she wasn’t ready to expose. Perhaps she should be asking him why she’d kissed him, since he seemed able to play her body like a well-tuned grand piano with his long, lean fingers. Her sheath clenched as she remembered the way he wrung pleasure from every inch of her body. Her lips parted.
“Why?” he whispered. And then his mouth was covering hers in a scorching yet somehow sweet kiss. It was a slow burn, his lips touching and moving back again and again, his tongue swiping along her bottom lip. He held her head, his fingers threading into her hair, palms cupping her face. She melted into his touch, her tongue dueling with his. Her already damp panties rubbed against her swollen mound as she shifted in the seat, leaning toward him. He pulled her up and out of the bucket seat to straddle him. She held herself up with her hands planted firmly on his shoulders as he lavished her mouth with attention.
They were making out in his car like teenagers. It was thrilling. He trailed his fingers down the sides of her face to the gap of the trench coat, then down to cup her ass. She lifted in invitation, and he tugged on her panties. She stared down into those almost black eyes.
“Damn it,” he grumbled, tugging harder. Still grumbling, he glanced down as if commanding the panties with his mind to disappear. A second later, the fabric gave way under his fingers, and he grinned. She reached for his pants, unbuttoning them and slowly lowering his fly. His cock was hot in her palm as she cupped him. He groaned and lifted his hips. Raising herself over him, she angled him toward her entrance. He thrust up, and she thought he was ready, but he reached into his back pocket, and she saw the distinct glint of a foil packet.
Holy hell. A condom. She froze, and he raised an eyebrow. She shook her head and tried to smile. She’d been a mere moment away from impaling herself on his shaft, and she’d never given a thought to protection. The passion that had been building in her fizzled. That was completely unacceptable. How could she have let herself get so far out of control that she would have risked pregnancy, disease, death for one more taste of him?
She lowered herself to sit on his lap, the leather of his pants brushing intimately against her inner thighs and soft thatch of hair between them.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked, and she was sure she heard a note of real concern in his voice.
She couldn’t let him know she’d allowed him to have that much control over her. She bit her lip hard and fought the urge to cry.
“Hey. C’mon. Tell me.”
She shook her head, her hair billowing around her, falling to hide part of her face.
He swept it out of the way. “Was it the panty ripping?”
“No,” she whispered. Knowing he couldn’t wait to have her was exhilarating. She moved her hands away from his erection and let her arms rest lightly on her thighs. It didn’t feel right to keep touching him. Not while her mind was reeling.
“The condom, then?”
She glanced away, but he forced her head back to face him, his gaze locking with hers and refusing to let her escape.
“Why would that have freaked you out?”
Lie. She could come up with a convincing lie. She was a writer, for Pete’s sake. She opened her mouth, the lie already forming, but she couldn’t do it. “I would have forgotten.” She swallowed.
He blinked a few times, and she could tell by the blankness on his face that he didn’t understand. But a second later, the spark in his eyes told her he’d put the pieces together. “Ah. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
“Of course it is!”
His mouth curved into a small smile. “No, it’s good to feel so out of control that something like that would slip your mind.”
“Notice how it didn’t slip yours,” she said, her voice razor sharp. So he might make her so crazed with passion that she forgot everything, but he remained unaffected by her. She didn’t know why that pained her so much, but it did, and she didn’t like it.
“Oh, shit. You know—” He shook himself hard, jostling against her. She couldn’t help the sliver of desire that shimmied through her with the small motion. “I didn’t mean it like that, Elizabeth.”
No one called her Elizabeth except her parents. Thinking of them brought her back to the reason she’d gotten so reckless to begin with tonight.
He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. He dropped the condom into the console beside him and cupped her head in his hands. “I know you’re trying to understand this lifestyle and what it’s like for your book. You’ve already crossed that line into exploring what it could mean to you personally, but you don’t really understand the relationships yet. It’s not your job to remember things like that. It’s my responsibility.”
“Because you have a dick?”
“Because I’m the Dom.” He was starting to get upset with her. She could hear it in his voice, see it on his face. Well, good. Why should she be the only one irritated, confused, and frustrated? After a pause, he continued, “My whole job, my role, and my reason for being becomes taking care of my sub, whether it’s for a few minutes or a few hours in a playroom at the club or full-time in a long-term D/s relationship. Whatever she needs, whenever she needs it. I take care of it. Period.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” She’d always thought it was the Dom’s job to control his sub. To make her submit. Wasn’t that what the relationship was all about? The sub did whatever she was told. All the time. It was like Liz’s own personal version of hell.
“I like to take care of people,” he said. “Since I was a kid. I was the youngest of five, and yet I was always the one who made sure everyone was tucked in at night, had lunches packed in th
e morning. I can’t tell you the number of fights I got into because someone had insulted one of my older siblings.” He shook his head, a smile on his face.
The news surprised her. She didn’t know how she felt about knowing such intimate details of his past. She felt like she was intruding. “Okay. I still don’t get what that has to do with spanking or sex or anything else.”
“It helps me to help people. When I don’t have someone to take care of, sexually or not, I feel out of sorts, not quite myself. Having a D/s relationship was a natural progression from wanting to care for someone. When you’re in a good relationship, when the match is right and your needs coincide with someone else’s, it fits. Some subs like not having to take care of themselves. Some like the freedom of being controlled in a sexual setting. It’s different for everyone.”
“So I’m officially a sub?” She sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want anyone making the decisions for her, least of all some guy she barely knew.
“That’s up to you,” he said quietly.
“It was irresponsible of me not to think about protection. If you hadn’t—”
“But I did. I’m here.” He wrapped his arms around her, his fingers pressing into the small of her back and sliding her closer. Her bare thighs rubbed against his cock, and her body at least seemed to have forgiven him for keeping his head on straight while hers was spinning.
“I’m right here,” he said, lifting his head and touching his lips to hers. He caressed his way down the front of the coat and undid the tie with expert fingers. She let him kiss her. Let her body relax under his touch inch by slow inch.
“You’re safe with me, sweetheart. Always,” he whispered against her lips. And for some ridiculous reason, she let herself believe him.
CHASE CRADLED LIZ against him, trying to show her with his caresses what he couldn’t explain in words. She would either be able to accept his comfort and need to protect and care for her, or she wouldn’t. He couldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do, much as it pained him. Her moans of pleasure echoed in the quiet car and made his cock twitch.
As she let herself relax in his arms, he slid the coat off her and tossed it into the passenger seat. It had been years since he’d been so fervent to have someone that he didn’t make it into the house first. And when was the last time he’d had sex this vanilla?
He couldn’t remember, but as Liz moaned and writhed against him, he didn’t want it any other way right now. In this moment, there was no need to bend her will to his, no need to punish or reward, only a desire to please and enjoy. She thrust her hips against his and reached behind her to undo her bra. She discarded the fabric, and he cupped her breasts in his hands. She gasped at the contact, arching her back, and her thighs squeezed his hard. She lifted herself a few inches on her knees and reached for the condom.
Smiling, she tore open the foil and removed the thin barrier. Biting her lip and staring into his eyes, she rolled the condom down his shaft, and he groaned at her exquisite touch. Her fingers were sure and hesitant at the same time, squeezing him gently but then gripping the base of his cock with firm fingers—that perfect mixture of hard and soft that he’d started to associate with her.
He held her hips and helped guide her toward him. She pushed herself down onto his throbbing flesh, welcoming him into her body, and he leaned back against the headrest, his eyes half-closed. With hands on her hips, he could control her thrusts, but he let her set the pace. Slow and languid at first, she rode him up and down. But soon her eyes were glazed with pleasure, her face smoothing into bliss, and her thrusts became faster, harder. He moved a hand from her hip along her abdomen. He played for a second with her belly button, then dipped his finger inside. She squirmed, rolling her hips and making him gasp.
He slid his fingers lower to the soft curls, searching for the nub of her clit. When he found it, he rubbed her there as her inner muscles clenched him tight. He lifted his hips to meet her thrusts as she crashed down on him, and then she was coming, screaming, and digging her nails into his shoulders. Throwing his head back, he groaned and thrust up hard into her another two times before he joined her in bliss.
Liz slumped against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Damn,” he mumbled.
“We had sex in a car. In the driveway.”
He grinned, even though she couldn’t see him. “We did.”
“I feel like I’m seventeen again.”
He did too. Not only because of the location, but also because that was around the time he’d discovered vanilla sex wasn’t enough for him. Yet right now, he was perfectly sated, and he didn’t feel like he was left wanting. Maybe because he’d already had enough playtime with Amber and then again with Liz that he didn’t need it this time. Liz had certainly had no trouble getting his engines going. As soon as his lips had touched hers, he’d wanted her again.
She stretched, rolling her naked body against him. He still wore all his clothes, his pants barely moved out of the way enough for his shaft to be free. Liz raised her head and blinked slowly at him. He reached for the coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. She lifted herself off him, sitting on his lower thighs as if she hadn’t the strength to move farther, which he didn’t mind in the least. She could sit on his lap for however long she wanted.
Chase grabbed some napkins out of the console, disposed of the condom, and cleaned himself up. Liz sighed, and he slipped a tissue between her legs, sliding up and down her inner thighs and over her mound. She hissed at his touch, but he could tell by her face that it wasn’t in pain. Her eyes closed, and he could see it took effort for her to open them again.
“Let’s get you inside and into bed.”
She still hadn’t answered him about why she’d been so upset tonight, but when she’d devoured him with her mouth, he’d lost all ability to think straight, let alone cajole her into telling him what was bothering her.
“I’m fine,” she said, reaching for the driver’s-side handle and pushing the door open. She tried to get off his lap, but there wasn’t a lot of space for her legs to move.
He set his fingers on the back of her hand. “Let me help.”
“I am absolutely capable of getting into my own house by myself,” she said in a huff as she wrenched her hand away. She used the handle above him and the frame of the door to lever herself off his legs and stand. She wobbled a bit on her feet, and he set a steadying hand on her hip.
“I know you are fully competent of seeing yourself inside, sweetheart. But let me?” he asked. He’d shared his need to be in control with her, let her see the vulnerability that always rested right below the surface. He wanted her to understand that he couldn’t sit in his car and watch as she walked away. If she could walk. She was swaying on her feet.
He swung his legs out, then unfolded his frame and adjusted his pants to cover himself. She’d pushed her arms into the sleeves of the coat, so it hid most of her. He tied it closed lightly. “Please?” he asked. Did it sound like he was begging? Maybe. Probably. He didn’t care.
She yawned and listed to the side.
“That’s it. Come on.” He was done asking. He scooped her into his arms and nudged his door closed with his hip. Then he carried her up the stone walkway to the small porch. It only proved to him how much she needed him to carry her when she didn’t utter a single word of protest.
“Shit, where are your keys?”
“In my purse. But it’s not locked.”
He almost dropped her. His knees damned near buckled. “Why?” Anybody could walk right through her front door whenever they wanted. There could be someone waiting inside now for her to come home. What if she hadn’t had a flat tire? What if he wasn’t bringing her home?
She shrugged. “It’s a safe neighborhood. I kept locking myself out. Like a lot. While wearing only a bathrobe. I had to break in several times, and I got tired of paying for window repairs and locksmiths.”
He opened the door with one
hand and carried her inside, closing the door with his boot, and leaned forward to reach the dead bolt. He flipped it and turned to observe her house. Holy shit. Martha Stewart she wasn’t. Paper, pens, newspapers, napkins, and clothes were strewn all over her living room and kitchen. The table—at least he thought it was a table—was covered with papers. Every square inch was obscured so he couldn’t tell what color it was. Lights had turned on immediately when they came in, so they must be on a sensor.
She sighed and snuggled closer, but he couldn’t stop himself from scolding, “You cannot leave your door unlocked. Period. It’s not safe. You live alone. You don’t even have a dog here to protect you.” Every instinct he had urged him to make sure she understood. To make her swear that she would be safer. That she would never be home alone with a door that was practically wide-open, begging any common criminal or street thug to come right in.
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled. “Bedroom’s that way.” She lifted a finger, and he carried her to the back of the house and set her on the bed. He tugged open the coat and slid her out of it. She was pliant, boneless in his arms, her eyes fluttering open and closed.
“I’ll lock the door and slip the key under it,” he said. He wanted to stay; he should. But she’d be mad when she woke up and found him there. Right now she was barely conscious, and it wasn’t right to ask her if he could stay.
“Nighty night,” she said as he pulled the covers over her naked body. He kissed her forehead and walked through the obstacle course of junk back outside to the car. He grabbed her purse, found her keys, and removed her house key. After setting her purse on the floor inside, he closed the door, locked it, and slipped the key underneath. He placed his open palm on the wooden door and sighed. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done to turn around and walk back to his car, leaving her sleeping and vulnerable inside.
* * * *
Chase slammed the phone down on his table. Where the hell is she? He’d called Liz at least a dozen times in the past three days. Every time, he’d left a message. And he hadn’t heard a peep from her. He tried to tamp down the panic swirling in his gut, just as he’d been trying to tame his Dominant nature and give her the time and space she needed to sort through what had happened between them and what it meant for her.
To Sir Page 14