“I’m sorry, Sir.”
She heard his growl, but didn’t care. At least if he spanked her, he’d show he cared. But she was going to lose him. The thought of not having him in her life caused the sob she’d tried to tamp down to come out in a gasp. She hated the neediness in her voice, but the one person she’d wanted to love her more than anyone didn’t want her.
“Please don’t send me away. I can’t lose you. Not again.” She hated the neediness in her voice. God, how had she become so fucked up?
He gazed down at her mouth. Okay, she was rambling. He probably wanted to get one of those mouth gag things and…
“Karla, when did you say you started feeling abandoned, depressed?”
She shook her head. “I’m not depressed…” Well, maybe she was, but she didn’t want to admit it to Adam.
“Answer the question.”
“When you walked out of my room yesterday morning.”
“I’m a fucking idiot.”
Well, I’ll admit you certainly are slow at figuring out how badly I need you.
“Kitten, you’re experiencing subdrop.”
“No, Sir, this isn’t anything like what I felt when you tied and suspended me in the great room. That was incredible…”
“No, that was subspace. I know you’ve been bombarded with a whole new vocabulary lately, but subdrop is about the polar opposite. It usually happens after an intensely good scene. Can be up to a week later, but the feelings you’re describing—abandonment, unworthiness, depression—those are all signs of subdrop. In the vanilla world outside BDSM, it’s the equivalent of the feeling you get after going on the best vacation ever, then having to go back to the real world again. You tank. Hit rock bottom. For a sub/slave/bottom in the lifestyle, though, it’s even more intense.”
That sounded exactly like what she was feeling.
He reached out to stroke her cheek. “My guess is the drop is associated with the Shibari session. Your mind went into subspace; separated from your body—twice. That’s pretty intense for anyone, let alone someone in one of their first BDSM scenes. Then our aftercare session was interrupted by Damián.
“Then you didn’t want to get rid of me?”
“No, hon. As much as I should, I don’t think I can. What I’m trying to do is get rid of this god-damned twenty-four/seven Master/slave arrangement. It’s just not right for either one of us.”
“But you…”
“I fucked up. Screwed the pooch. However you want to say it, it was wrong of me to offer you that. You’re never going to be a slave, Karla. And that’s okay.”
Adam’s gaze became fixed on her lips and he lowered his head toward hers and brushed his lips across hers, sending jolts of electricity to ground somewhere near her clit. She reached up, wincing at the pain in her neck muscles as she interlaced her fingers at the nape of his neck. No way was she going to let him get away this time until she was ready.
Karla opened her mouth and Adam’s warm tongue delved inside. Her hips bucked up in response. Touch me there, Sir. But she couldn’t ask while their lips were locked together. She moved her left hand down his arm until she found his hand and pulled it up to lay across her breast.
Touch me there, too, Sir.
He chuckled against her mouth, but cupped her breast and pinched her nipple. Again her hips convulsed and she sucked Adam’s tongue deeper inside her mouth. He groaned. Was he in pain, too? The coarse hairs on his leg caused gooseflesh to rise as he kneed her bare legs apart. When had he removed her jeans?
Who cares? She was just glad there was very little to get in his way.
Adam’s hand released her breast with a ragged breath. “Wait. We aren’t having sex. You were just in a major accident.”
Karla groaned. How could he pull back now? She needed him. “Please, Sir. Don’t leave me like this.”
“I promise to take care of your wants later. Right now, you need sleep.”
He pulled her against him and held her close, laying his chin on the top of her head. She tried to regain her equilibrium. How was she supposed to just fall asleep when he’d stirred her body to life like that? Then she realized Adam was holding her—tightly. He didn’t want to leave. Not at the moment anyway. She wasn’t his slave anymore. Maybe she wasn’t his submissive either. But he was holding her, and that was more than enough for her.
She turned onto her left side and scooted back against him, spooning into the curve of his body. His erection against her ass made her smile. At least she wasn’t the only one turned on this morning.
Karla sighed as Adam’s hand splayed open on her abdomen and he pulled her closer. Maybe everything was going to be okay after all.
Chapter Eleven
Three days later, Adam lay awake, holding Karla in his arms as he’d done every night since he’d nearly lost her. No closer to figuring out what the hell he was going to do to fix the mess he’d created, he thought back over the last few days.
Since Saturday morning, they’d laid in bed, lounged around, ate Angelina’s minestrone soup to the last drop, and curled up in front of the fire to talk about…well, nothing earthshattering. Just ordinary stuff, sharing stories about their lives, catching up on the mundane facts of life they used to share in their letters over the years.
Adam had given Karla daily all-body massages. He’d even pulled the TENS unit out of his toy bag and used the electrical stimulation to help relieve the whiplash pain in her shoulders. He smiled at the thought of using the unit on even more sensitive areas.
By last night, they’d played a card game, laughed, watched some sappy chick flick about a town full of matchmakers in Ireland, and he thought the lingering effects of subdrop had disappeared. She’d reported that her muscles weren’t as sore either.
He ought to be horsewhipped. What kind of Dom—technically he was her Master then, which made it even worse—was he not to anticipate subdrop?
He’d put her into subspace twice during their Shibari scene. Hell, that was intense even for an experienced sub, but he hadn’t explained to her anything about it or told her to watch for the telltale emotions of a drop. The woman might have spent more than three months singing in a kink club, but her knowledge of BDSM was limited to what she could observe from the stage in the public area.
Joni had suffered from it often and he’d made her promise to seek him out when she felt like that so he could take care of her needs until it passed. Hell, Karla had done that instinctively—coming to him in the shower seeking comfort—and he’d jumped her bones and none too nicely, either. Karla hadn’t shown the more obvious symptoms he was familiar with, but if he hadn’t sent her off to take Cassie home, not to mention to distance himself from her a bit, he could have been around to observe and recognize the signs.
He hadn’t been an attentive Master. Not wanting to be placed in that role was no excuse. Once he’d accepted it, he had a responsibility to her to make sure all her needs were met. He’d screwed the pooch royally, speed, random luck, or a weird cocktail of two or more things? He’d have to watch to see what her signals were in the future.
Wait a minute. There was no future for them. What the hell was the matter with him?
You’re running scared, jarhead.
“Yeah, you can say that again, Joni.”
Joni? What the fuck was going on with his head?
Running scared. Well, the voice had that right. He didn’t like the feeling now any more than he had over the last three decades. After that blow-up with Karla over his nightmare or PTSD or whatever the fuck it was, he’d needed to put some distance between the two of them.
His only thoughts since last week were how to get himself out of this damned TPE arrangement—well, when his little head wasn’t thinking about how to get back inside her pussy.
What was he going to do about her? Seeing her so helpless and hurting at the hospital Friday night had nearly killed him. He needed to be her protector, her guardian. But damned if he wasn’t starting to feel he needed t
o be something more…something he couldn’t quite name.
The side of his thumb idly stroked her abdomen. She wore her long t-shirt and he’d insisted on panties after discovering she preferred to go commando. Well, so did he, but he’d taken to wearing skivvies himself, hoping the combination would cut back on temptation for both of them. He stroked her hair and she moaned in her sleep, causing his woody to bang against her ass.
Stand down. You’re not getting any.
Karla sure had changed since she’d arrived at his club. The woman had fascinated him ever since she’d shown up at his club last summer. Many trips to the shops on Broadway had helped him transform her stage wear—getting rid of those chaste, dull Maid Marian dresses—and he’d spent many a night at the club ogling her. Even her music had drawn him in, her voice a mixture of sultriness and grit. He’d seen other men at the club watching her, too, and had to fight the urge to rip their throats out.
Possessiveness wasn’t what a guardian should be experiencing, was it?
Admit it, jarhead. You want her. All of her.
But he didn’t want to own her. He wanted to…what?
He sure as hell didn’t want to send her away. She’d begged him not to ever since the hospital. He must have said something to her in his delirium or under the influence of pain pills to make her think that. Hell, he’d never known Karla to be insecure. He couldn’t even blame that stinkin’ thinkin’ on the Master/slave agreement, because it happened before. The subdrop intensified it, but its roots were deeper.
The TPE also had eroded other parts of her personality as if she’d tried to become what she thought he wanted. In the future, he’d need to be extremely careful in revealing his wants or asking her to do anything, because clearly she was going to sacrifice herself and her own needs in order to meet his. That might turn some men on, but that wasn’t the Karla he was falling in love with.
Whoa! Fuck that shit! He wasn’t falling in anything—except maybe a pile of horseshit. Man, if he didn’t rein in thoughts like those, he’d hurt her even more. He may be attracted to her and care about her, love having sex with her, but "falling in love" wasn’t in his vocabulary.
Sure, he did care about her. A lot. Big fucking deal.
Somehow he didn’t think that’s what Karla wanted…or needed.
Chapter Twelve
After dinner, they sat in front of the fireplace again, watching the flames licking the wood, Karla sitting upright against his chest, dressed in her long t-shirt. Her knees were tented in front of her and he fought the urge to take his hand and…
Cool it, old man.
Instead, he buried his face in her tangled curls, breathing in her citrus-y scent.
“Adam?”
“Yes, kitten?”
“Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
He hugged her tighter. The thought of not having Karla in his life anymore caused a sharp pain in his chest, not much different from the pain he’d felt after Joni died. How had she gotten under his skin so fast?
Adam rested his chin on the top of her head. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. You scared the shit out of me.”
She laughed. “I won’t break, you know?”
“What?”
Rather than answer, she took his hand from around her waist and moved it up to cover her breast. His balls tightened. Her tit fit his hand perfectly. He chuckled and pinched her nipple until it became as hard as a pebble. He loved that little hitch in her breathing that signaled her sexual excitement.
“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”
“Well, if I had to wait for you to take the initiative again, Sir, I might be an old lady.”
His fingers stilled. She’d never be old to him. No matter how long he lived, she’d always be a quarter-century younger. Why, all of the sudden, didn’t he care anymore? Karla was mature for her age. He’d just have to work at maintaining his health and be sure to keep his body in shape so she wouldn’t grow tired of having an old man for a…
Dom. That’s all they were going to have, a Dom/sub relationship. Don’t even think about anything else. Hell, maybe she didn’t want any kind of BDSM arrangement with him. He’d messed up badly before. Would she still trust him to care for her needs like a good Dom should? When she came to her senses—tomorrow, next month, next year—she’d find someone closer to her own age. But think of the memories he’d create in their time together, however long it might last. He wanted to make those memories.
His hand skimmed down over her abdomen, pulled the tail of the t-shirt up, and slid inside the waistband of her panties. Her hips bolted upward and she stretched her legs out as his finger slid between her very wet folds. “Eager, little one?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her breathy whisper sounded almost sultry. “You left me hanging twice now—once in the shower and once after the accident.”
“That I did, didn’t I?” He was pleased to know she’s felt deprived enough to miss them.
Adam’s mouth brushed against her temple and her head lolled to the side, allowing him to trail kisses along the column of her neck as his finger parted her nether-curls and found the opening of her pussy, pressing inside. She gasped.
“Tell me if anything hurts. Your pussy and mons may be bruised from that rough session in my office Friday morning, not to mention other areas injured in the accident that night. We’re going to take it slowly this time.”
“Please, Sir, not too slowly. I need you!”
He groaned at the urgency in her plea and his wet finger pulled out of her quivering hole and stroked between her folds to her clit hood. She tilted her pelvis against his finger.
“Don’t move. I will control how fast I let you come, kitten.”
She shivered, but he didn’t think it was from the cold. She hadn’t balked at obeying. Did she still want him to be her Dom?
* * *
He was going to let her come. Thank the gods.
His finger and thumb pinched her clit and she tried to squirm away, but he held her tightly against him. Why had she gone bratty on him immediately, though? Would she jeopardize her orgasm as a result? He didn’t seem too upset. But he’d ended their Master/slave agreement, hadn’t he? She wasn’t sure what her status was now.
Trying to keep her hips still was a challenge she hadn’t expected to be so difficult. She concentrated on his fingers, reveling in the intense feeling of having his large hand on her small pussy. But shouldn’t she be touching him, too, giving something back? She reached out to run her fingers over his leg.
Adam sighed and pushed her away from his chest, removing his finger from her clit. She groaned in frustration. Don’t push me away again, Adam. Please! She turned around to face him.
His scowl told her he definitely was not happy. “What did I tell you?”
What had she done wrong this time? He wasn’t pleased with her. “You told me not to move my hips, Sir.”
“I told you not to move. Period. If I’m going to take this slowly, I can’t have you touching me.”
“But I only touched your leg, not your…” Her gaze flicked down to his crotch, and she felt her face grow warm and looked back up at him. How could her innocent touches have that much of an effect on him? She smiled, feeling a sense of power she hadn’t known she possessed. “Please, Sir. Tell me what you want. But don’t stop doing what you were doing.”
“Are you giving your Dom orders, kitten?”
Crap. “I’m sorry, Sir. I wasn’t sure if…” Her eyes opened wider as his words sank in. “My Dom?”
His other hand reached up to cup her breast in a possessive display that made her feel like she was his, but in a way she enjoyed.
“I may not want to be your Master, but being a Dom is ingrained in me. Can you accept that? Submit to me sexually?”
“I…I think so.”
“You’ll have to do better than ‘I think so,’ kitten. Yes…or no?”
I can do this. Whatever “this” is.
“Yes
, Sir. I can submit sexually.” Being so new to sex, it certainly was easier to submit than to take charge. She had no clue what to do most of the time.
“We’ll see.” He stood up and held a hand out to her. She winced as she began to rise and he bent down to scoop her into his arms.
“Whoa! What are you doing? Put me down, Adam!”
“You’d better correct yourself, and soon.”
“Master Adam, Sir. Sorry. But you shouldn’t be lifting me.”
“I’ll lift whatever I damned well please and right now, it pleases me to lift you.”
He carried her out of their room and down the hallway. Was he going to take her down to a theme room and restrain her? Her clit zinged even as her heart rate tripled. But instead of going down the stairs, he continued to the end of the hall and opened the door to one of the club’s private bedrooms. She’d never been in one of these. They were used by members wanting a little more privacy than the theme rooms with their observation windows allowed.
“Damn, it’s colder than a motherf…than a mother in here.”
He could say that again—and for Adam to be cold was saying something. He carried her to the side of the bed and lowered her to her feet, then pulled the sheet and comforter down. “Get under the covers while I start a fire in here. Better enjoy it, too, because I’m not going to let you burrow under those covers for long.” Her nipples tightened, more from excitement than the cold, she suspected, and she crawled into bed to watch him light the gas logs in the fireplace. Soon, she felt the heat of the fire on her face.
“Sorry it’s not a wood fire, but I can’t run the risk of some careless or distracted club member burning the place down trying to light a fire.” After he started the fireplace, she watched him go to a closet and pull out a black leather vest. Her heartbeat increased again, pounding blood loudly through her ears. He turned toward her and removed his t-shirt. The firelight flickered across the muscles and planes of his chest and she ached to run her fingers over him. His muscular pecs and abs begged to be licked, but she wouldn’t displease him again by taking the initiative. If he wanted her to touch him, he’d tell her. He donned the vest.
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