by Ann Jacobs
He left no doubt that he was in control when he stretched out over her, on his knees between her legs, one hand steadying himself above her by grasping her entwined wrists as he claimed her lips once more. An alarm went through her head at the feeling of helplessness, of him pinning her beneath him with nothing more than his substantial body weight and the loose grip of his hand on wrists she herself had positioned to be restrained. He calmed her quickly, though, with the gentle suction of his mouth on hers, the sensual feeling of his warm skin against hers. “Fuck me, please,” she said when he raised up and shifted to where his rigid cock lay poised to enter her needy pussy.
“My pleasure.” Slowly, carefully, he slid into her swollen body. She loved his heat, his hardness, the incredible feeling of fullness and the arousing friction from the jewelry in his cock. Most of all she appreciated the care he took to deliver those delicious sensations that radiated through her, enhancing the arousal that had been building since he’d joined her on the bed and brushed away her tears.
It wasn’t quite orgasm—she’d found that to experience that she needed a certain amount of pain and fear. But what she was feeling came close enough that she wanted him to keep it up, make her feel cherished. As beautiful as he’d said he found her, despite her own doubt that a man like Tom could actually see beauty where most men saw only her excess weight. “Oh, yes. Don’t stop. Fuck me harder, faster.”
He bent and nipped her neck. “Patience, now. I want you to experience sex with me, without the trappings we both seem to need. For the first time in years, I’m loving vanilla sex, and I think you’re liking it, too, from the hot, wet feeling of you surrounding me.”
She was. But she wanted to come. His slow, deep penetration increased her arousal. More than that it fed the hope that he was feeling something more than lust, some emotional connection she wished she dared to reciprocate.
Heat built up inside her. As though Tom knew she needed more, he fucked her harder, faster, gathering her close to his body and whispering words of affection, of sex, as her climax built. “Come for me now,” he ground out through clenched teeth. That was enough, that Master’s order and one last hard thrust. For the first time in her life she exploded, without physical domination, with only the knowledge that for the moment he controlled her. Without force. Without restraints. Without kink or toys or the accouterments of the lifestyle that had brought them together. His triumphant shout and the sensation of his climax spurting inside her womb set off another wave of ecstasy before he gathered her in his arms and cuddled her as though she were precious…desirable…beloved.
* * * * *
“Are you going to take me back to the club to pick up my car?” she asked when they left his condo a few hours later.
He grinned. “Not yet. I like having you under my control. Besides, I don’t think I want you driving that Ferrari. Maybe I’ll borrow it and push it off a hillside.”
The look she shot his way was one of mild horror, as though he’d just reminded her she’d told him about the part that car had played in the final humiliation of her marriage. “No you don’t! I’m not about to be chained up to be your sex slave whenever you take a notion you want to fuck.” She stopped dead still. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that, but…”
“Honey, it’s okay. I’m glad you value yourself enough to make sure you’re treated right. You deserve that. Every woman ought to demand that, sub or not.” Despite the facts that it was broad daylight and they were out on a busy street, he bent his head and kissed her. Damn it, he’d get her to trust him, but he allowed it might take time considering all her ex had put her through. “If I really did something that possessive, I’d buy you something new. Not a Ferrari, though. I’m afraid I’m not that rich.”
She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t care if it was a compact sedan—I just don’t want ever again to have to depend on a man for my wheels.”
Or anything else, for that matter. She didn’t say it, but her determination to hold on to her independence came through loud and clear.
Tom figured he was in for a lot of persuading if he was to bring her around. It came to him as he walked around to the driver’s side that she’d probably never gotten to pick out any car for herself. Not before her escape, and not since then, either, because she most likely felt she’d be foolish to get rid of that six-figure sports car that had likely been part of her divorce settlement. “How about me letting you pick out your next car for yourself?” Tom found himself wanting to coax smiles from Selina, to drive all the hurt and sadness out of her memories. He wanted to protect her and see not only to her pleasure but her happiness.
For the first time in his life he was beginning to understand why the knights of legend lived and sometimes laid down their lives to win the love of their ladies.
“I’d like that—if you’re really determined to lure me to become your new sex slave.” Her comment came out like a joke, but he heard the doubt and worry in her voice. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips then held on to it.
He wasn’t about to spook her. Especially now, when he was pretty sure she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “Not just a slave, honey. A lover…and a friend. Tonight we’re going out to celebrate the first night of Fiesta.” He’d originally planned to skip the opening night of the Oyster Bake at St. Mary’s, but since his mother was one of the alumnae who would be overseeing the event, it would be a great way to introduce her and Selina in a more or less neutral environment.
“I don’t know.” He could almost hear her mind at work, mulling the pros and cons of joining him where many of her old friends might see them. “Once I got married, I quit getting involved with Fiesta. Afterward, I never bothered with it.”
He understood that. Selina had probably been too bruised and battered to want to socialize. Abused women often withdrew into a cocoon that included only themselves and their abusers. “Don’t you think it’s time to come out of your shell?” he asked as he settled her on the passenger seat and closed the door.
“I’ll go with you,” she said. Tom didn’t delude himself into thinking she was pleased about it. To be honest, he didn’t blame her for wanting to avoid reminders of the ancient past. He couldn’t help being proud of her for trying to set aside her recriminations and join him for a social outing. “You’ll need to take me home first, though, so I can change clothes.”
Chapter Six
What on earth was she going to wear? It had been a lot of years since she’d gone to an Oyster Bake, but she vaguely remembered a scene full of San Antonio society women wearing pale, floaty dresses and lightweight sweaters to ward off the early spring breeze. Well, she hoped styles had changed since then because she’d given up floaty, frilly dresses about the time she said good-bye to size fourteen. Wishing she dared venture out in jeans and a top like a lot of the tourists wore, Selina rifled through her closet, singling out three outfits and tossing them on her bed.
She gave her selections a critical once-over. The black linen dress, one of her favorites, wouldn’t do because the only way she could zip it was if she put on her corset, and Tom had forbidden her to wear it again. “Well, Selina, you can either show off your fat in the other dress or try to hide it under the slacks and tunic,” she mumbled. Neither choice appealed.
“Tom?” Hopefully he was still in the living room where he could hear her.
“Need a hand?” He poked his head through the door, making her unpleasantly conscious that all she had on were a bra and panties.
“Which one of these do you like?” Selina tensed as he gave the once-over to both possibilities she’d found. Probably his true answer would be “neither”. She didn’t like them that much either, but there was a limit as to what garments did a decent job camouflaging a few of her excess pounds and were made in size eighteen.
“The purple one. It goes with your eyes.”
That was why she’d bought the amethyst jersey dress, even though it
clung to her fat more than she’d like it to and drew attention she’d just as soon not encourage. “All right. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready. You know, I’m nervous about this. Really nervous.”
“Don’t be. Getting back into the swing of Fiesta is sort of like riding a bike after a long time. You don’t forget how to do it.”
He was right. She shouldn’t be afraid. At least she shouldn’t let him know if she was. But he had a way of drawing out all the things she’d kept hidden underneath that leather cat suit for so long, and she couldn’t deny she liked having him as a confidante as well as a Master. “I know. Go on out and I’ll get ready. It won’t take long.”
“Okay. I’m going. But don’t you dare come out wearing one of those torture devices, or I’ll have to spank you. I’d stay and watch, but I might decide what I really want to do is toss you on that bed and make love until we both pass out from hunger and exhaustion.” Dropping a casual kiss on her cheek, he made his way out of the bedroom, leaving her with the impossible task of making herself presentable.
When she walked out to meet him a few minutes later, an overnight bag in her hand, he stood and relieved her of the bag. Selina tried hard to concentrate on him, forget they were going somewhere they’d likely see old friends. Mutual friends. God forbid, they might even run into his mother and hers. Make that probably. She’d almost forgotten, but now here she was, her flesh clammy, her fat cells quaking so much she was certain that Tom couldn’t help noticing.
Tom was a hunk, a prize any woman would be proud to claim. And she was the ugly duckling, no longer protected from stares by her leather cat suit and mask. No longer safe behind the persona of a make-believe Domme where she was sure not to be hurt, able to command others instead of being commanded. What she really wanted to do was run and hide, protect herself from hurt she felt was inevitable. But she couldn’t do that. Not as long as there was a chance in a million that Tom could care for her enough to want to be her Master, not just for a short interlude. He’d told her this afternoon that they’d be spending the next two weeks together. Time enough to fall in love, she mused, not too happily because she didn’t dare reach out and grab the possibility he might even want to make their affair a permanent thing.
Feeling more naked than if she actually had been wearing her birthday suit, Selina settled herself on the leather passenger seat of Tom’s car and willed herself to be invisible.
* * * * *
How in hell could she think she was anything but beautiful? Eager to show her off, Tom lengthened his stride then slowed down when he realized Selina was having a hard time keeping up in those high heeled sandals she had on. No wonder. He couldn’t imagine trying to walk on what might as well be stilts. Still, they did great things for her shapely legs so he wasn’t about to suggest she wear flats next time. “Come on, slowpoke, I’ve got a taste for some roasted oysters.”
Her smile seemed tentative, but she managed to hold his gaze. “All right. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t move quite as fast as you.”
“You’re forgiven. I can wait a few minutes for my oysters so long as I can look at your gorgeous legs. I like the way those shoes draw attention to them.” He lowered his voice and whispered in her ear. “Almost as much as I like feeling them wrapped around my hips when we’re making love.” The way the sun filtered through new, bright green leaves on massive red oak trees that lined the pathway to the St. Mary’s campus, it cast her in patterns of light and dark, accentuated her hair and the silky smoothness of her skin. “Come on, I’m ready to show you off. Don’t be nervous.” He wasn’t. He couldn’t wait to introduce Selina to his vanilla friends.
“Hey, Tom!”
Tom turned and shot a glance backward. It was Mark and Lynn Blackstone with their three kids in tow. Oh God, he’d been scheduled in to do the anesthesia on two of Mark’s cases this morning. He was in for a hard time, he was sure, about taking his impromptu vacation. “Don’t say a word, my friend. How’d your cases go this morning?” he asked when the other couple caught up to him and Selina.
“Well, no thanks to you.” Mark’s acid words contrasted with his grin. “I take it this lovely lady’s the reason for you taking off.”
“Yeah. Selina, this is Mark and Lynn Blackstone. He’s out of sorts because I took myself off his cases today. Mark, you’ll have to introduce the kids. I’ve heard a lot about them, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen them. Guys, meet Selina Harrison. My girlfriend.” He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her palm when he realized she was trembling. He wished he could wrap his arms around her, show his friends how proud he was that she was with him. Instead he put an arm around her, a more civilized gesture of affection that seemed to put her more at ease.
“Hi, Selina.” Lynn had a definite twinkle in her eyes that reminded Tom she was known around the hospital as an inveterate matchmaker. “Meet Beth and Brandy. They’re twelve, and Skipper’s almost four. Tom, you’ve been hiding Selina from us,” she added, her tone chiding.
“Not hiding, nosy one. Selina and I have just discovered each other. Come on, I’m sure your kids are anxious to try out the scary rides and eat all sorts of junk food at the concessions. And I’m ready to try some of those oysters. Never eat them except here.” It never ceased to amaze him, how Lynn and Mark couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other, after all the years they’d been married.
As they walked along together, Tom realized Selina hadn’t uttered a word. She apparently was finding this social outing more intimidating by the minute. “Chin up, sweetheart,” he whispered as he bent his head and dropped a kiss on her cheek. He thanked his lucky stars that easygoing Mark and Lynn were the first friends they’d come across.
Crowds of noisy teenagers and parents trying to keep up with excited kids converged onto the already crowded Oyster Bake scene. A plaintive country singer competed with sounds of Spanish guitars and castanets that were coming from another bandstand across the way. Tom loved all the Fiesta events, and he needed for Selina to enjoy them, too. “How about we go find my mother and get the introduction over with? Then we can melt into the crowd and have some fun.”
“What if she doesn’t like me?” Coming to a complete halt on the narrow sidewalk, Selina looked up at Tom, seemingly not noticing the hordes of people detouring around them and spilling off the pavement onto the neatly manicured grass.
“Why wouldn’t she?” He knew the retort wasn’t likely to bolster her confidence, but he couldn’t manage to hide his irritation. “You’re just the kind of woman Mother expects me to marry. Good background, San Antonio roots, all that goes with it. That said, I’ve been a grown man for a lot of years, and I don’t have to ask her if she likes the women I choose.”
“I imagine your mom will think a lot like mine, and mine hasn’t had a pleasant word for me since I divorced Les and came back here. She’s almost sixty years old and still wears a size six. I sort of imagine your mother’s pretty much the same, right down to thinking I’m an embarrassment because I’m fat, not to mention the fact I couldn’t manage to hold on to a husband most of her friends considered a great catch. Or that the only job I can get is as a volunteer since I didn’t finish college or learn a trade.” Selina looked as though she were about to cry, so Tom grabbed her hand and led her off the sidewalk to a concrete bench between a pair of Texas redbud trees.
He sat and pulled her down beside him. For God’s sake, he’d never seen a woman so afraid of criticism. But then, he hadn’t had to live his life subjected to a beast of a mate and a hypercritical parent. “Stop agonizing, sweetheart. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the woman I want to sleep with, live with. To me you’re just what the doctor ordered. Beautiful, sexy as hell, the perfect woman, the perfect sexual submissive who can hold her own in my real life as well as my fantasies. Fuck it, the only person you need to please is me. I couldn’t care less that you’re overweight, and I’m proud of you for managing to escape the monster you married. As far as working, yo
ur only job will be to take care of me and reach out and realize your own potential.”
“At one time I wanted to teach elementary school,” she offered in a tiny voice.
“You could still do that if you really want to, but wouldn’t you rather have your own house full of kids?” He hoped he wasn’t going too fast, but he was determined to quash her insecurity, whatever it took.
Choking back a sob, she nodded her head.
“Then smile for me. Show me you can be just as confident as you seemed, wielding that flogger at the club like a pro. Dry those tears and act like you love me.” He laid his hand on her knee, stroked it in a circular pattern until her trembling stopped. Then he lifted her chin, forced her to look at him. “Am I your Master or not?”