What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9)

by Kristine Cayne

  He raised his brows. “I never gave you much choice.”

  “Listen. First time or not, if I hadn’t wanted to do the things we did, I wouldn’t have. I stopped you today, didn’t I?” There, that ought to be clear enough, even for him.

  “Yes. Let’s talk about that.”

  “Gah! Are you really this dense or are you just being difficult?”

  “Use real simple words,” he said, his jaw tight.

  “You are such a frustrating man. Let me be very clear. I stopped you because you were being too nice. I might like fine china, but that doesn’t mean I want to be treated like it! I like sex a little rough, a little bit”—she swallowed and decided to use Dani’s word—“kinky. Deal.”

  Jamie pushed his chair back and stood, looking at her like he didn’t recognize her. “I don’t fucking believe this.”

  Erica watched, utterly bewildered as he turned his back on her and marched inside the cottage, taking her heart and her hope with him.

  Of all the things he could have imagined, hearing Rickie say she liked sex a little rough, a little bit kinky, was dead last. In fact, it wasn’t even on the list. After that first night, every time he’d acted the least bit dominant with her, she’d stiffened and fear had crept over her features, making him feel like a goddamn rapist. And now she was telling him she liked it rough? Liked it kinky? Fuck.

  He strode into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Kinky. As soon as the word had left her lips, his cock had instantly given her a salute. A movie reel of all the adventures they could have shared over the years played in front of his eyes, making him pant. Sweat beaded his forehead and a most incredible sensation wound in his belly, a building pressure that signaled he was spiraling out of control. Take it down a notch, Caldwell.

  His hand drifted down to the bulge in his shorts. He needed to rub one off right now before he burst through the door and drove her into the mattress.

  A knock on the door.

  “Jamie? Are you okay?”

  Like a teen caught charming the one-eyed snake, he dropped his hand to his side. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice rough. Guilty.

  “Are you… um… coming out?”

  Hell yeah, he wanted to come out. In. So deep inside she’d feel him push against her heart. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”

  After listening to her walk back to the sitting area and switch on the television, he opened the tap and splashed cold water on his face, willing his loose jimmy away. He took his time, even used the toothbrush and toothpaste provided by the resort. He’d been so anxious to have Rickie, and then after she left, he hadn’t felt like unpacking. All he’d wanted was a beer and time to think. He’d resolved to follow his mother’s advice—tell Rickie how he felt about his own responsibility, beg her to give him another chance, and try to rediscover who he was. Who he’d become.

  Kinky. With that one word, Rickie had thrown a Halligan bar into his carefully thought-out plans. With that one word, who he was, the man he was—it all became crystal clear. She’d set the stage and he needed to act. If he went about this the right way, he could have everything he’d always wanted.

  He had to take it slow. Draw her in with care. His poor wife had no idea what she’d set in motion, but he’d make sure she never regretted it.

  His face dry, his dick in its place, he rolled his shoulders and opened the door. With a few steps, he was in the sitting area. He stopped in front of Rickie. She switched off the set, but made no other move.

  All right. Good start.

  He was so excited, so fucking joyful, it was all he could do not to grin like a boy in the Nerf section of a toy store. Slow down, Caldwell.

  “If that first time was so damn special, why did you nun-up every time I got a little demanding with you?” Until they had this figured out, there was no way he was going any further. He wasn’t risking that kind of hurt again.

  She crossed her arms and rubbed her throat with one hand. “I was scared.”

  Christ. He recoiled in horror. “Of me?”

  She dropped her head forward. Her hair shielded her face, and he didn’t like that. He lifted her chin up. “Eyes on me.”

  Swallowing hard, she met his gaze. “I was afraid that you’d turn into Mr. Asshole.”

  “Mr. Who?”

  “That’s the name I used for my mother’s boyfriends.” Her eyes blazed and whiteness ringed her mouth. “At least the violent ones. The ones who’d talk dirty and slap her around. Who’d punish her with kicks and punches whenever she was too slow or did something they didn’t like.”

  Jesus. He’d known things had been difficult for her growing up, but he hadn’t known her mother had been abused. Then a sickening thought speared though his gut. He crouched down in front of her. “Did any of them ever… touch you?” He’d kill any fucker who’d so much as laid a finger on her.

  She squeezed her lids closed and shook her head. “It came close a time or two, but Mom always managed to distract them.”

  Thank God. Patting her knee, he stood back up. “This certainly explains a lot. I wish you’d told me earlier.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. I don’t think I was as afraid of you turning into Mr. Asshole, as I was of me turning into my mother. She let them do those things to her.”

  He walked back to the couch and sat beside her. “Your mother was a substance abuser. She let them hurt her because they fed her addiction, not because she liked it.”

  “But that’s just it, Jamie. I liked it. I liked when you spanked me. I’m exactly the same as her. Maybe she started out liking it too. And then things went too far and she couldn’t stop it anymore.”

  Pulling her against his chest, he stroked her back, her hair, her arms. He could feel her body tremble beneath his hands. “What those men did had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with power. I’d never do anything you didn’t want. And I’d never let things go too far. With me, you don’t have to be afraid of what you like and what you want.”

  She clung to him as though he were a life raft. “I really want to believe you, Jamie. I want to trust you.”

  “And yourself.”

  “And myself.”

  “I have an idea that might help us get there.” But first, he had to make sure they were on the same page. Her kinky might be his vanilla. “Tell me. What exactly about that night did you like?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent, so much like they’d been the night they’d met. And despite the seriousness of what they’d just discussed, his cock hardened.

  “I liked what we did,” she whispered.

  Could she be more cryptic? “Give me specifics.”

  “It wasn’t so much the ‘what’. It was more the ‘how.’”

  “Details, Rickie.” His tone was firm. Low. Exactly the tone he’d used with his subs in the past.

  She sat back and jutted her chin out, and he almost smiled at the show of resistance. “I liked the way you spoke, the words you used, the way you touched me.”

  He stood up and took a few steps. “Do you know what BDSM is?”

  Her eyes flicked to her suitcase before returning to him. Hmm. He’d have to find out what she had in there later. “Whips and chains? People who like pain when they have sex?”

  “Uh… not quite. It’s a combination of bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism. They’re lumped together like that because many times, people who like one, like them all. I’m different. I’m not into the last one. But the rest?” He stepped closer and leaned over her, boxing her in with his arm on the side of the couch. When he was an inch from her ear, he murmured, “Those are a definite turn-on.”

  He felt her shiver as much as he saw it. He stepped back, pleased to see the spark of arousal in her eyes. She licked her lips and his belly flipped. Rickie was even sexier now than she’d been when they’d met. She’d gone from a girl to a woman, and he loved every inch of her.

  “You have exper
ience with all of that?” she asked, her voice shaky.

  He sat back and she turned to face him, her knee touching his thigh. If he wanted her trust, he had to be honest with her. Bare his past. Bare his soul. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, about the time before I met you. About my… women.” He’d almost said subs, but she wasn’t ready for that. Not until he explained about the lifestyle and why he was no longer a part of it.

  “I know you had your pick of fire bunnies.” Her lip curled up just a bit at the end. Just enough to let him know she didn’t like that idea at all.

  Biting back a grin, he said, “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Come on. You’re a hot, hunky firefighter. That’s why I was so surprised when you hit on me at that party.”

  “So you think I’m hot?” The question made her blush, and the grin he’d been trying to hide burst out.

  She bent her neck, hiding her face with her hair again. “You know I do.”

  With his finger under her chin, he raised her face. “You have no idea how beautiful you are.” He murmured the words while winding a strand of her hair behind her ear. He loved her ears, so delicate and perfect, with the little diamond studs she preferred.

  After giving him a small smile, she pulled away. “Tell me about the women.”

  “You sure you want to hear this?”

  “Well not all the gory details. Just what’s relevant to our discussion.”

  Twisting sideways, he studied her. He was going to have to tell her about Andrea. That was the only way she’d really understand where he was coming from. And his limits. “I’ve been involved in D/s relationships before. Most were short-lived. But one was more serious.”

  “D… s?”

  Step-by-step. He had to remember she was new to all of this, and the last thing he wanted was to scare her off. “Dominant and submissive.”

  “Obviously, you were the dominant.”

  He smiled. “The only time I’ve ever been even remotely submissive has been with you.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s because of what we talked about before. I felt guilty for what happened, for getting you pregnant, and I wanted to make you happy.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “I liked you just fine that night. I think our relationship would have gone a lot better if you hadn’t tried to change for me. Tried to become someone you aren’t. I know I pushed you a lot, but I expected you to fight back, to show that you cared. But you just seemed to check out.”

  “I’m starting to get that.”

  “So, about these dominant and submissive relationships?”

  “I’m telling you this because I want you to understand what I like and what I’m willing to do. After, we’ll need to talk about your side of things.” When she nodded, he continued. “I met Andrea at a club that specializes in BDSM. We hit it off right away. We agreed on some conditions and after signing the contract, I became her Dom.”

  “Hold on. A contract?”

  “I don’t know how legal these things are, but a lot of people in the lifestyle like the idea of a contract, because it forces the Dom and sub to make everything clear. It establishes a framework for the relationship that both parties feel comfortable with.”

  “Contract, framework, parties. I don’t hear anything about love in all that.”

  “D/s relationships aren’t usually about love, Rickie. They are about two people getting what they need, sexually.”

  “I see. Is that what you wanted with me that night?”

  He laughed. “No. I could never see you as part of the lifestyle. You’re way too pure.”

  When her expression turned mulish, he laughed again. “No need to be insulting,” she said.

  “Believe me, I meant that in the best way possible. I like you exactly the way you are. The world of BDSM can be very ugly. It isn’t for people who just want to experiment. You have to be the lifestyle, not act it.”

  “Did you see any of this ugliness?”

  “I’d never judge anyone. People have different needs and what’s right for one might not be for the other. That’s what went wrong with Andrea. I like—no, I love—controlling my partner’s sexual gratification. It turns me on like nothing else. But part of a true D/s relationship also involves punishment. If the submissive doesn’t follow the rules, her Dom has to punish her. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not against inflicting pain when the return in pleasure is greater. But I just can’t hurt someone for the purpose of giving them pain.”

  “Is that what she wanted, this woman?”

  “It is. Andrea was a masochist.”

  “So by hurting her, you were giving her pleasure?”

  “That’s what she said. But it wasn’t the kind of thing I like to do. I wasn’t getting any pleasure from it. The final straw was when she had me whip her with a Viper. She’d had it specially made with blood knots and metal tips.” He rubbed his stomach. Just the memory of that day made him feel sick. “I’ll never forget the welts across her back and legs, her stomach and her breasts.” The blood.

  Rickie pressed a hand to her mouth. Clearly the idea didn’t seem all that appetizing to her either. Thank God. He wasn’t sure what he’d have done if she’d seemed excited by this. “Why would she do that?” she asked.

  “She wanted me to mark her. Some subs like having marks that remind them of their Doms when they’re apart. Again, I’m not judging. It’s just not for me.”

  “So this is one of your limits?”

  “Absolutely. I gave my subs just enough pain to push their limits, but always to increase their pleasure.”

  “But if you never punish, how did you make them do what you want?”

  “I’m a great believer in positive reinforcement. When that’s not enough, a little orgasm denial goes a long way.”

  Her eyes rounded. “That’s what you did to me that night!”

  “It was. And it worked.”

  She gave him a wide smile. “If we do this, do we need a contract?”

  “Babe, we already have one. It’s called a marriage.”

  “How do you want to handle it then?”

  “I don’t want a true D/s relationship with you, Rickie. When I was with Andrea, she wanted a full-on D/s relationship. Even though we didn’t live together, she expected me to dictate everything she did, everything she ate, even what she wore. Let me tell you, it was exhausting. She’d call me when I was dragging my ass to bed after twenty-four hours straight on the job to ask if she should wear her red skirt or her brown slacks. Do you know how little I give a shit what someone wears to work?”

  They shared a smile, a memory. “You even let Chloe pick her clothes when she was a toddler,” Rickie said.

  A load of anxiety rolled off his shoulders. He took her hand, running his thumb over the blue veins visible through the thin skin at her wrist. “We’ll play this by ear, and I’ll give you information as we go so you aren’t overloaded and overwhelmed. The key is trust. You need to trust that I’ll never do anything you don’t want to do, or that I don’t want to do. And I have to trust that you’ll tell me if I push you too far. Without trust, this won’t work. Our marriage won’t work.”

  “When do we start?” she asked, giving him a coy glance.

  Lust coiled in his groin and his cock wanted him to shout, “Now. Right the fuck now.” But before they could start, he had some shopping to do.

  Plan your work and work your plan.

  He pushed up from his chair and got his night clothes from his suitcase. “We start tomorrow.”

  And if his plan was going to mean diddly-squat, he needed a cold shower. He caught a glance of Rickie lost in thought. Her eyes were bright, her color high. His cock shot to full attention, reiterating its earlier mantra: Now. Right the fuck now.

  The water had better be ice cold, because he was fucking volcano hot.

  Chapter Four

  “Housekeeping.”

  Stretching her hands above her head, Erica luxur
iated in Jamie’s touch. His hand moved up her leg, igniting little flames with every inch closer to her thigh. Almost involuntarily, her knees spread in invitation. She kept her mouth closed, knowing he’d prefer it that way. But her mind screamed for him to hurry, to touch her where she needed him most.

  “Housekeeping.”

  The insistent voice distracted her and the spinning in her belly unwound, the moment ruined. With a groan, she patted the bed beside her, refusing to open her eyes. “Jamie? Someone’s at the door.”

  When there was no response, she sat up and rubbed the last remnant of sleep from her eyes. Seeing the empty space beside her, she frowned. Where was Jamie? She felt fingers on her leg again. Her eyes shot to her thigh, where a small brown lizard-like animal was making steady progress northward. “Ahhh!” she screamed, knocking it off her leg and jumping to the floor. “Oh, my God! Jamie!”

  Knock. Knock. “Housekeeping! Ma’am, are you okay?”

  Adrenaline sending her heart into overdrive, she scooped up her robe and raced to the door, pausing only a moment to peek through the peephole. A middle-aged woman in uniform stood outside. Erica swung the door open, holding the robe against her chest. “There… there was something in my bed,” she said, trying to catch her breath.

  The woman marched over to the bed and smiled. She picked up the beast and held it so Erica could see. “Just a little house gecko, ma’am. They eat bugs, not people.”

  “Good to know.” Now that the critter was safely in the woman’s hand, Erica could admit it was kind of cute, with its big unblinking eyes and bright red tongue. In a reptilian kind of way.

  “I’ll take him outside while I get your tray.”

  “My tray? There must be a mistake. I haven’t ordered anything.”

  The woman pulled a notepad out of her pocket. “Caldwell, cottage six?”

  “Yes. Okay, my husband must have ordered.” The bathroom door was ajar, and the room clearly empty. Why would Jamie order breakfast, then leave?

  Returning with a cart, the woman rolled it into the sitting area and pushed open the thick night curtains. “Would you like to eat on the lanai?”