“Would you like a shower?”
“I should, but I’d rather rest.” She curled her legs toward her.
He stroked her hair before crossing to the bathroom. When he returned, she was sleeping.
Trevor had always enjoyed showing his subs aftercare, but he’d never done it like this. He fetched a warm, wet cloth and used it to soothe between her legs while she murmured little sounds of approval.
Then he crawled onto the bed and somehow managed to get them both beneath the covers.
“This is nice.” Though she was almost unconscious, she curled herself against him, her head on his biceps.
Trevor always slept alone. But with Shelby, he was breaking all of his self-imposed rules.
She shifted, and her buttocks brushed his cock, making him erect again.
So he didn’t take her again, he held her tight, resting his thumb on the mother-of-pearl concha at her throat. Trevor couldn’t wait to get his collar on her.
What the hell would he do if he never wanted to take it back off?
Chapter Five
Startled but not knowing what had had disturbed her, Shelby blinked herself awake. Light filtered into the room…the unfamiliar room.
She turned onto her side and saw a cowboy hat.
Pulse galloping, she pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her vest, bra, and jeans were stacked in a tidy pile on the table next to the hat—Trevor’s cowboy hat. Master Trevor’s.
She dropped back down as memories flooded her.
Master Trevor asking David to wager her. David losing, and her temporary Dominant delving into her secrets before tying her and flogging her at the Quarter.
And then…
Bringing her back to the hotel and fucking her hard. With more intensity than anything she’d ever experienced.
She closed her eyes.
Her pussy was a bit sore, and she recalled him toying with her, spanking her there, burying his massive cock inside her.
After that…
Various recollections teased her. A warm cloth between her legs. Being naked, wrapped tight in his arms. A collage of the sexy things they’d done danced through her mind, leaving a searing trail behind.
But the accompanying emotions wrapped her in gossamer. Nerves. Fear. Apprehension. Trust. Completion. A sense of something so right that it didn’t have words.
Ever since her horrible divorce, she hadn’t dated much. She hadn’t had sex, let alone spent the night with anyone. Except for with her girlfriends, her life had been superficial. She’d told herself that was better than being hurt again. Yet now that she was here with him, she realized how deeply she missed sharing little intimacies.
She gripped the covers tightly and reminded herself she wasn’t in a relationship with Trevor. This was a seven-day arrangement, nothing more. At the end of it, she’d go back to her ordinary life. It wouldn’t be smart to allow herself to consider anything more.
His deep, rumbly tones reached her, and she glanced around the room. She didn’t see him, which meant he was likely outside. Had his conversation awakened her?
Trevor spoke again, and the cadence was enough to weave a spell over her. That had to be what happened last night. By the careful use of his voice—urging, implacable, suggestive—the man could compel her to do almost anything.
Desperate to find some sort of normalcy, she gathered a sheet around her and darted toward the bathroom.
Every part of her body protested. Her shoulders ached. The backs of her thighs had a dull burn. At the club, she’d been in a strange position on the spanking bench. Then he’d used cuffs on her, forcing her upper body into a bowed shape, and when he’d pressed his huge cock into her, the weight of his torso had stretched her thighs. The position had allowed him to go deep, but she’d need more yoga classes to keep up with him.
She eyed the gigantic bathtub. That would be luxurious. But she didn’t know what his plans were. And she was a sub for the next week. Whatever that meant to him. It couldn’t be all sex and bondage. Could it?
On a hook, there was a robe embroidered with the hotel’s logo. Gratefully she slipped into the oversize fluffiness and wrapped the belt around her twice before tying it.
Because she didn’t have an overnight bag, she settled for finger-combing her hair, using a toothbrush provided by the hotel, then scrubbing her face with a makeup-removing towelette.
Not that it helped much.
Her eyes were wide. Her mouth seemed swollen from his kisses. Her hair still had tangles, as if she’d had sex.
As she was turning, the overhead light refracted off the bolo tie.
He’d asked her to keep it on until he could replace it with a temporary collar. The truth was, even without its weight, she had no doubts he was her Dominant.
When she returned to the room, he still wasn’t there. A single word snagged her attention. Caroline.
Shelby froze. Last night, they’d talked at length about her life, but he’d shared next to none about his. Surely he wouldn’t have asked for a week with her if he had another woman. Sub?
Nervous, and more uncertain than ever, she opened the balcony door.
A phone pressed against his ear, Trevor looked up, gave her a quick, welcoming smile, and waved her out.
Not a girlfriend, then, she guessed. Unless it was an open relationship. But even then, there was no way any woman would be happy with the way he’d fucked her last night.
Heat and humidity wrapped around her, urging her back inside. She told herself the lure of a pot of coffee in a French press, along with a plate of fruit and pastries, was too irresistible. Especially since she’d burned so much energy last night. The truth was a little less palatable. She wanted to know who Caroline was.
For a moment Shelby hesitated, considering his privacy as well as the fact that she wasn’t dressed. But since there was another couple also dining outdoors, both in pajamas, she shoved away her inhibitions and took a seat across from her Dom.
He poured her a cup of coffee and slid it toward her.
How had he managed to order room service and get everything outside? She was generally a light sleeper. Then again, last night was anything but ordinary.
The coffee was hot and strong, and in Louisiana fashion, tasted of chicory. Since it wasn’t her favorite, she added a dollop of cream.
After a second, much more satisfying sip, she sat back.
Good manners dictated that she pretend to be uninterested in his call. Or at the very least, that she wasn’t eavesdropping.
“Right,” Trevor said, nodding. “Set it up for Thursday. Afternoon is best. Anything else?”
Shamelessly, she looked at the man she was committed to spending the next six days with.
Today he wore a white dress shirt, with the cuffs rolled back. The top two buttons were open. Instead of jeans, he wore lightweight gray slacks and casual shoes. If it was possible, his arms appeared even bigger, his muscles more cut than they had yesterday. Or maybe it was just that she knew what he looked like, how perfect, as if he’d been chiseled from marble.
For the first time, though, she realized how different their lives were. From David, she knew Master Trevor was a millionaire. Well, at least a millionaire, if rumors were to be believed.
On Sunday mornings, she liked to laze around, read a book, think about her day before getting up and doing something fun, like brunch with a friend. Mimosas were always part of the deal.
But he’d dressed as if it were Monday. He smelled of juniper and spice, and his hair was damp, with a stray lock curling over his forehead. If her guess was right, he’d showered. And he was settled in for his phone call.
As if sensing her interest, he met her gaze. He held up his forefinger, signaling he was almost finished.
She picked up a croissant and tugged off a corner. The buttery goodness melted on her tongue. So far, the experience with Master Trevor had been much better than she anticipated.
One tiny piece at a time, Shelby finished the crois
sant and was considering a second when he ended the call.
“Morning, precious sub.”
Precious. It wasn’t the first time he’d called her that, and it didn’t sound like a casual endearment. It was soft and intimate, heavy with meaning. Her tummy fluttered. With a few words or a pointed glance, he possessed the power to upend her world. She couldn’t be falling for him, just couldn’t. “Sir.” The whisper was all she could manage. To cover her nerves, she swiped her hands together to brush off any crumbs.
“Eat up,” he encouraged. “We have a long day. And I have plans for you.”
Her appetite vanished. Instead, she took another sip of coffee.
“Did you sleep okay?”
She glanced at the continental breakfast, then back at him. “I think you know the answer to that.”
He grinned. How was it possible he’d slept fewer hours than she had but was completely polished?
“And your body? How is it feeling?”
Like it needs the trip to the Bahamas that I’ve been promising myself. All of a sudden she remembered him rubbing her back before she went to sleep. How many submissives were fortunate enough to have their Doms take such good care of them? “I’ll be honest, I’m a little stiff. Muscles I’d forgotten about have reminded me of their existence. While you look as if you’ve already taken on the world.” And won.
“I tend not to have good boundaries between work and my real life.” He shrugged. “It’s a failing. My mentor warned me about that.”
“Your mentor.” She traced the cup’s handle. “Is that who you were talking to?”
“No. Caroline is my executive assistant, has been for almost ten years. Strictly a business relationship. Since I prefer to work from my home office, we rarely see each other, but she’s indispensable.”
“And you work on weekends?”
“Time is fluid. Things shift. I like to be poised to act. I ensure Caroline has plenty of time off, and she’s well compensated for her efforts.”
“It occurred to me that I don’t know anything about you.”
“I’m an open book. I’m not involved in a relationship. I don’t have a submissive. No exes or children for you to worry about. Does that satisfy you?”
“It’s not really any of my business.” But she was eager to hear every detail.
“You’ll be sharing my home for what’s left of the week. That makes it your business.”
“I…” She stopped when she realized she wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you.”
“What else can I tell you?”
“I’m curious about your mentor.”
For less than a second—so fast she might have imagined it—something dark frosted his eyes. Pain, maybe? But then as if aware he was revealing too much, he sat back, and his expression was as calm as it had been a few minutes before.
“I had no father.” He shrugged. “Or, I did until responsibilities became too much after my twin sisters were born. At age ten, I became the man of the family, and I had to find ways to help my mom earn money.”
She winced at the pain in the words, and the parts of the story he’d obviously left out. “That’s harsh.” The first time she saw him, he was ultrarich, and she assumed he’d been born into wealth.
“Doesn’t matter, does it? We play the hand we’re dealt.”
A clever reference to the night before?
“And I was fortunate enough to meet Wayne Dixon. And he hired me to do yard work.”
She didn’t make a habit of reading business news, but even she recognized the name. “You mean the financier?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Anyone who grew up in this area knows his reputation. There’s a bridge named after him.”
“Turns out he liked the scrappy kid on a secondhand bike. Reminded him of his own youth.”
There was probably more to the story than that, but he wasn’t inviting any further conversation. “So that’s your mentor?” she asked. “Wayne Dixon?”
“Yes.”
Trevor had connections she had never imagined.
“Is there anything else you need to know?”
“I’m sure there are a million women who would want to marry you.”
“Maybe a slight exaggeration. Surely it’s only in the tens of thousands.” He quirked his mouth in a quick grin that made him a dozen times less formidable. “Are you wondering why I’m still single, and no exes?”
“That’s kind of personal, isn’t it? You don’t have to tell me.”
“At first, I was focused on making a success out of the chances that Wayne offered me. I wanted to get my kid sisters through school, pay off my mom’s mortgage. God knows she deserved it. And then…” He steepled his fingers and regarded her. “It’s a serious thing. Marriage. Children. I won’t do to my family what my father did to us. Frankly? I have a low bullshit tolerance. I’m not looking for someone who is interested in my money. I live a very simple life, away from the city with its distractions. A lot of women aren’t suited to that. And I’ve been told I’m too intense, that I’m too committed to my work and my family.”
She frowned.
“That’s brought up another question for you.”
Did she have the courage to ask this? Because she was afraid she’d drop the coffee, she put it down instead. “I wanted to ask you the same question you asked me last night. Why? Why did you accept the bet? Why did you ask for me?”
“Why you? For a dozen reasons. Because you were badly behaved, unable to stay still, casting impatient glances at Master David. You seemed to begging for a good spanking. Hoping to find a Dominant who can handle you. One who is strong enough to give you what you really want.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? Really?”
A voice of doubt whispered just the opposite. Had she been hoping to catch Master Trevor’s attention?
“The only thing is, you need to trust yourself more. It’s all right to admit what you want and to seek it out.”
His statement hit too close to her heart. She was enjoying their time together, his sensual demands, the way he was inexorably pushing against her self-imposed boundaries, but she wouldn’t tell him that. Nor would she consider what the realization meant to her. To escape the discomfort of what he’d said, along with her strong emotional reaction to it, she straightened her spine.
“You were a bit of a mystery.” He leaned in closer. “I thought at first you had a lot of experience, but you’re an innocent. To someone as jaded as me, it’s appealing. And then I had a taste of you.”
Breathless, she waited.
“You’re damn hot.” His words had a growl of masculine satisfaction that heated from the inside. “Once we were alone in our hotel room, you didn’t hold anything back from me. When I started to fuck you, there was no pretense. You let me know what you wanted, didn’t shy away from the exploration. You trusted me. That’s fucking gold right there.” He adjusted one of his shirtsleeves. “Because you’re remarkable. That’s why.”
She blushed at his sincerity. No one had ever looked at her that way before.
His phone chimed. “Excuse me.”
“Of course.” While he checked the message, she unfurled her hands. She hadn’t realized her nails had dug crescents into her palms.
“How long will it take you to get ready?” he asked, looking up, with the device in hand. “We have an appointment with Madame Giselle.”
“Who?”
“She owns a shop nearby, and she is willing to meet us within the hour if that suits you. It’s where we’re going to purchase your collar.”
Though he’d told her he wanted her to wear his collar, the fact that he’d taken immediate action caught her off guard.
“Can you be ready to go in forty-five minutes?”
“Yes, Sir.” She gulped, her old life wobbling precariously beneath her. “That will be fine.”
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Shelby followed him inside the small sh
op on Royal Street. The front door was wide open, and chilled air beckoned tourists inside. There were stand-up coolers filled with water, soda, coffee, energy drinks, even wine and beer. Colorful dresses hung from racks. Shoes, ridiculously high heels as well as casual sandals, were displayed on top of neat, stacked rows of boxes. Carnival masks decorated all the walls, hanging next to pictures of trumpet players and New Orleans’s numerous landmarks. Near the register was an assortment of items she’d expect to find—bracelets, pralines individually packed in plastic wrap, positive sayings on cards that could be tucked into a wallet or purse. But she didn’t see anything that resembled collars. On their short stroll, she’d been imagining they’d stop in front of an unobtrusive door, much like the Quarter’s entrance. She’d expected a quiet space, maybe even something that was a little freaky. This, however, was much the same as any other store she’d walked into.
“I assure you, it is.”
“Ah! Trevor!”
With a smile, he turned toward the woman who emerged through a threshold that was disguised by strands and strands of dancing silver circles.
“Madame.” He gave a slight bow before kissing the woman’s cheeks. “Beautiful as always.”
“Scoundrel.” Her mysterious and dark eyes twinkled. “Sit a spell and tell me more.”
With a chuckle, he placed his fingers against Shelby’s spine. “May I present Shelby Salazar?”
“Darling Shelby. Enchanté. I wanted to meet the woman responsible for dragging me from my bed.”
Trevor exerted a slight amount of pressure against Shelby’s back, urging her forward. Regardless, she would have taken a step toward Madame Giselle. The woman was enthralling, with an inviting and irresistible energy.
Even by Shelby’s standards, Madame was slight and petite. Her silver hair was caught at her nape by a sparkling barrette, and still the strands brushed the backs of her knees. Her sleeveless purple dress reached the floor but didn’t hide the fact that she was barefoot.
“Aren’t you lovely?” Madame Giselle’s smile was genuine, and her voice held a hint of an accent, perhaps from many years before. Her dozens of bracelets clinking together, Madame took Shelby’s hands and squeezed them with surprising strength. “Welcome to our world.”
His to Love (Titans Quarter Book 2) Page 7