by Ann Jacobs
“You know that wouldn’t be me.” The way butterflies were flitting around her stomach, Keely guessed they were as scared as she was.
“It wouldn’t? Somehow I have no trouble picturing you here, settling down, letting me take care of you. I have a fantasy that you’re wearing a frilly apron and nothing else while you see to my body’s needs so I’ll stay in shape to take care of yours.” If that last chauvinistic word picture hadn’t been accompanied by a wicked, teasing grin, she’d have had her hackles up, but as it was, all she wanted to do was reach over and wipe the whipped cream froth from the cocoa off his smiling lips.
His expression turned serious. “How about it, Keely? God only knows how long we’ll be stuck here in this blizzard. We’ve played scenes together that left us both wrung out to dry. Are you game to take the next logical step, learn a little more about what makes us tick…and find out whether the sexual magic’s still there without the BDSM trappings? When it’s just us and the storm outside, no one to watch or invite to join us in a ménage?”
“I’d like to, but—”
“You’re afraid.” Brad took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m never going to hurt you, sweetheart. Come on, tell me why it scares you so to think about you and me becoming a couple out in the real world, when you obviously enjoy the hell out of what we do at the club.”
“I’m scared.” Keely found it hard to find the words to tell him why. “I’m afraid of turning over complete control to any man, or…” Did it really matter what everybody thought of her? “I’ve known a good while now that you’re looking for more from me. Dinner dates, weekends out here. Trips to Denver. Stuff like that.
Since he’d come back from the rodeo circuit this fall, he’d kept dropping hints about making their master-slave relationship permanent and binding. “I want to keep our relationship the way it is.”
“Why? I don’t have leprosy or anything. Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” Brad tilted her chin, made her meet his dark gaze.
Should she tell him? She guessed he deserved that much. “You’re a Dom. Everybody knows you run Roped and Lassoed. If we’re seen together they’ll know. And they’ll talk,” she blurted. She was so afraid she’d lose him. “They’ll whisper about our lifestyle…and the fact that you’re filthy rich and I’m not.”
He snorted. “So fucking what? I can’t help being rich any more than you can help it that you’re not. Besides, we are into the BDSM lifestyle. I like the games we play that make you crazy, and I’m pretty damn sure you do, too.” His tense expression morphed into a grin. “Filthy rich or not, I’m hardly at the top of any mama’s list of eligible fish they’d like to hook for their daughters. You said yourself that you didn’t want your neighbors knowing you were hanging out with Laramie’s bad boy, keeper of the local BDSM dungeon.”
Keely knew that if she didn’t give a little more she was going to lose the only master she’d ever found who could always sweep away her sexual quirks and bring her to mindless climax. She didn’t need him to tell her that. But she had to maintain her pride. The self-respect she’d worked so hard to earn after having grown up the way she did.
How to say this without sounding like a whining ninny? She didn’t know, but she had to try. Holding his gaze, she managed to find her voice again. “I can’t do the 24/7 master-slave thing. Ever since I graduated from high school and went out on my own, I’ve had to avoid giving people things to talk about.”
Brad reached up, rubbed a tear that was making its way down her cheek. “What sort of things? If some son of a bitch at the club has said a word about you…about us…I’ll take care of him before he knows what hit him.”
Covering his hand with hers, Keely spoke again. “No, it’s not that. It’s—other things—things from when I was a kid and lived with Mom and Vince.”
He curled his fingers around her palm, drew it to his lips. “I need you to spell it out for me, sweetheart. Make me understand.”
“The last thing I ever want is a full-time master/slave relationship. It will never work for me because I grew up watching my mom become a walking doormat for Vince. He became her master after Daddy died.”
“Who says that’s what I want?” Brad sounded a bit put off.
“Well, you are a Dom. You’re into Dominance and submission games.”
“Being a Dom doesn’t necessarily mean I want to take the games out of the bedroom into our everyday lives. Is that what this Vince did? Did you get teased about it when you were a teenager?”
Could he mean he didn’t expect a relationship like his brother had with his wife? “You don’t want to humiliate me in public the way Jared does with his wife?”
“What I want is to bring you pleasure.” His deep voice poured over her, made her pussy twitch and her skin rise up in goose bumps. “Jared feels the same way about Ninia, and she needs the full-time BDSM lifestyle to satisfy her. Different strokes…”
“Submission’s fine in the bedroom, or at the dungeon. I’m not about to turn control of my entire life over to any man, though.” Sometimes Keely wished she hadn’t been born a sexual submissive, able only to reach orgasm in the context of a D/s scene. Then she wouldn’t be torn between wanting more with Brad and being terrified of taking a chance.
“What if I only want to be the master of your sex life? Would that work?”
Yes. No. Keely wasn’t sure she could take the whispers about her taking up with Laramie’s best-known bad boy, or the sly accusations that she was a money-grubbing gold digger for the county’s richest bachelor. She broke visual contact with Brad and forced herself to recall the humiliation and taunts she’d lived with through her teen years. “Brad, please. I’ll tell you a story, one I probably should have shared with you when I first came and joined Roped and Lassoed.”
“Okay, tell me. It’s not going to make any difference, and I’m gonna do my damnedest to shoot down your arguments.” He leaned back in the chair, sipped his cocoa and settled his gaze straight into her eyes.
“My mom’s a sexual submissive. Like me. After Daddy died she needed a new master, so she took up with Vince. He gets off on humiliating her in public. When I was in high school he sometimes made her walk around the neighborhood with him holding a leash he’d attached to a spiked leather collar with a big silver padlock. My friends saw them, and they made my life hell on earth, so bad I got away from them the minute I graduated from high school. The taunts followed me for years, until some of the kids grew up and found better things to do than humiliate me.
“It still happens sometimes. Last week one of Mom’s neighbors told me Vince had ordered Mom to go around the house naked except for that collar, and to answer the door that way. At least she hasn’t spread her news all over town. I went to visit and found the neighbor hadn’t been lying.”
“This Vince sounds like a psychopath, not too different from the asshole who was married to my sister. Jared and I finally talked Diana into pressing charges on him for spousal abuse and assault, but not until Bender had nearly killed her.” Setting down his mug, Brad rested his chin on his hands. “Do you seriously believe I’d ever hurt you that way?”
Keely didn’t know. When she thought about the situation with her mother, she wondered sometimes if her mom felt the same all-encompassing sense of helpless, delicious surrender as she felt when she was under Brad’s command. “I don’t want to end up like my mom. Daddy wasn’t like Vince. I don’t think you are, but I can’t be sure.”
“What was your dad like?”
“He was very loving. He never showed his Dominant nature even at home, unless it was in their bedroom behind closed doors. Until I was twelve or thirteen years old, I never realized Dad was Mom’s master. He never made her flaunt her collar or do demeaning things.”
“What makes you think I would?” Brad’s voice was low, his tone dead serious.
“Damn it, I just don’t know.”
Taunts rolled through Keely’s head, years old yet still hurtful. Take a look at
your mom. Bet he has to keep the bitch on a leash so she won’t stray. Keely clenched her fists, refused to listen to the chorus of even worse invectives that were trying to escape that deeply guarded corner of her memories. “I just know no one will ever say things like that about me. Ever. Not even if I have to go the rest of my life without being forced to the brink of orgasm and held there, only to be granted release when the pressure becomes too much to bear.”
“You don’t need to deny yourself the pleasure of submitting. And you don’t need to be afraid I’d ever put you in position for anybody to talk shit about you. You know, sweetheart, one of the benefits of being on top of the local economic heap is that folks don’t dare sling too many arrows at the McTavishes. Or at anybody we love. They may think I’m Laramie’s perennial bad boy, but they know I can extract a good bit of retribution if I get too pissed.”
Brad loved her? The expression in his eyes was fierce, yet deep emotion shimmered behind the mutant anger. “I want…”
“Let go, sweet girl. Trust me to take care of you. Know anybody who dares say a word about you will figure out pretty quickly that they’d better keep their big mouths shut.”
God, how she longed to do just that, hand herself over to Brad with the complete confidence that he’d protect her as well as giving her the kind of kinky sex it took to turn her on.
Keely understood her mom’s need to be punished and humiliated in order to unleash the strong sexual feelings only a strong Dom could force past her inhibitions. She experienced that need and its satisfaction, too, in the dungeon with Brad, opening up a compartment of her deeply buried psyche that could only break free under the sting of the lash. There was something appalling yet arousing, knowing eager eyes in the observation room were looking down on her performing for her Master, seeing her pussy swollen and wet, her every orifice breached for his pleasure. And her own.
* * * * *
So Keely didn’t want her vanilla neighbors to know the owner of the infamous Roped and Lassoed turned her every way but loose. And scars from taunts about her mom’s hard-core submissive lifestyle were still raw now, ten years or more after they’d been uttered. She was also worried she’d be talked about for latching onto Laramie’s richest bachelor.
Yeah right, he might have knocked off her argument about him having too much money to get serious with a girl of modest means. But he’d fortified her first objection by pointing out that he wasn’t every good conservative mama’s idea of an ideal catch. Yeah. He’d been a pretty reckless, crazy guy for a good many years, and it was going to take some doing for him to show a new leaf and overcome his own past.
But he’d realized somewhere along the way that Keely was worth it to him. God, this deciding all of a sudden to become a grownup could be a pain in the ass. As he glanced at Keely, a shaft of unexpected humor twisted his lips. Yeah, he still wanted to dominate his lovers, but his focus had narrowed. He wanted one sub in particular, one who would keep him satisfied longer than a new machine for the dungeon…a kinky scene…even still being aboard a bucking bronc when the whistle blew. He had the feeling that being with Keely would keep him satisfied forever.
Brad glanced outside, saw no evidence that the blizzard was going to pass by anytime soon. He had time. Time to let her work out her own demons, tamp down the fear that kept her holding him at arm’s length now that they finally were alone. He got up and held his hands out to Keely. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go to bed. That spanking I promised you can wait ‘til next week at the dungeon.”
“B-but—”
“But nothing. There’s nothing I’d like more than to take you to my bed and snuggle with you while the snow swirls over the skylight in the ceiling. Oh yeah, there is something. I’d love to sample every inch of your sweet, soft skin, twine my fingers in your silky hair. Shit, I’d give a month of my life to fuck you until we both collapse from the pure pleasure of it all. But that’s not what you want right now, so you’re going to sleep by yourself in one of the guestrooms.”
“If you want me, Master…”
He sure as hell wanted her, but not this way. Not with her playing the role of his sex slave. Not when she could look back and tell herself he’d forced her to submit. That this was just another scene played out on a slightly different turf than one of the dungeon’s observation rooms. “If you want me, my room’s the second door on the right. The door will be open.” His balls ached, as though they were punishing him for deliberately denying himself satisfaction, but he opened the door to the room where his sister had slept when she came here on leave from the rehab facility, and swung it open. “You’ll find some of Diana—my sister’s—clothes and stuff in here. Feel free to use anything you need. This door locks, in case you’re afraid I’ll join you during the night.”
Before he could change his mind and drag her to his bed, he slid his lips across hers once more then strode down the hall. “Sweet dreams, Keely girl.”
Sweet dreams? What a joke. Every nerve in Keely’s body tingled in unison, screaming for the satisfaction she was denying herself. And Brad. Part of her wanted to leave this beautiful room and take the pleasure she knew she’d find in his embrace. But she couldn’t. If she did, she might never leave, and a full-time D/s relationship would never fit in with the conventional lifestyle she wanted to pursue.
Yes, Brad was right when he’d told her earlier that such relationships could work. Keely had watched his brother Jared do a scene with his wife Ninia. She’d envied the woman the devotion she saw in Jared’s eyes as he slowly, deliberately tied the Japanese rope bondage. She envied Ninia the sublime pleasure of having her Master perform an art obviously less familiar to him than the cat-o’-nine he wielded with such skill. Keely couldn’t deny the envy had come with a twist of sorrow, for the scene had triggered long-suppressed memories of her mom and dad.
Brad had whispered in her ear that his brother had learned how to tie the complicated Karada bondage only because it gave Ninia such pleasure. Tonight he’d confided that Jared took pains to fulfill Ninia’s every sexual fantasy, even when it meant indulging her fetishes that he didn’t share. And that Jared took pains to exercise discretion when handling the nonsexual things like going out to the grocery store, to church—anywhere they’d be around others who didn’t share their lifestyle.
But Jared and Ninia were different. Ninia had no local ties, and Jared had come home a wounded warrior. A hero despite his known status as a sexual Dominant.
Brad was the bad boy personified, a man apparently not caring what his neighbors thought, an anti-hero who did what he wanted, when he wanted, and damn the consequences. Keely herself was no Ninia. While she admired the beautiful gold collar Ninia wore locked around her slender neck, Keely had no desire to wear a collar or become publicly known as Brad’s full-time sex slave.
Briefly she checked out the room, stopping to admire the clean lines of the headboard and chests. The natural-finished wood picked up one of the colors in an earth-toned Oriental rug. She stepped to the bed and drew back a goose-down comforter. God, but the pale green sheets felt soft, softer than any she’d ever touched at Bed Bath and Beyond in Cheyenne. Still fighting the urge to join Brad in his bed, she stepped into a large bathroom, found a new toothbrush and toothpaste and looked longingly at the large claw-footed tub. Maybe…
She tore off her clothes and stared at her reflection on the mirrored wall. Minus the utilitarian jeans and sweatshirt, she thought she looked like she might actually fit in this luxurious room. Before she could lose her nerve, she stepped into the tub and turned on the water. Heaven. Fragrant bubbles surfaced all around her, soothing tired muscles while sensitizing every inch of her skin. Only when the water began turning lukewarm did she drag herself out and let a thirsty terrycloth robe catch the remnants of her bath.
Warm. Fragrant. More luxurious than any bed had a right to be, it beckoned Keely, but not nearly as much as Brad’s room down the hall. But she wasn’t about to give in, not unless she could manage to overc
ome the obstacles in her head. If she did, and it didn’t work out, she’d be devastated.
More important, so would Brad. And she couldn’t bear the thought of hurting the master who’d brought her sexual fantasies to life. He was a kind man, a little wild for sure, but when she got to thinking about it, she realized he’d been settling down some these past couple of years. Yes, he still went on the rodeo circuit, but he was quieter about it once he came home…almost as if he were just going through the motions.
Maybe…maybe she could come to believe he truly wanted more, that his determination to take their BDSM relationship to the next plateau wasn’t just a passing phase. That might be part of her fear, too, that she might stick her neck out, give him her heart when he wasn’t really in for the long haul.
She wouldn’t think about that now. Not when the sheets proved to be every bit as soft as they looked, like warm silk against her sensitized skin. When she pulled the comforter over her, she found it surprisingly light, incredibly warm. Not sleepy, she stared out the window at growing snowdrifts, at the silhouettes of cowboys fighting against the wind, dragging reluctant cows and calves into the huge, sturdy barn.
The sound of the wind echoed in Keely’s ears. Falling even harder now, the snow practically obliterated her view out the window. She wouldn’t have been able to see anything if not for a strong, bright light that penetrated the snow and gave her an off-and-on view of the activity below. She shivered, despite the warmth of the room. Temperatures had to have been dropping fast, to have brought the ranch hands out from the comfort of their bunkhouse to bring all the cattle inside.