“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”
• • •
Elijah watched with eagle eyes as Samantha tugged uncomfortably at the short skirt of her nightgown. He knew she was uncomfortable dressed as she was in public, though he’d assured her that the diner that sat next door to the club catered to clientele in all states of dress—or undress.
He’d been there once before, when he’d checked out the other BDSM club in the area prior to opening Devorar and, to his relief, nothing had changed. People dressed in rubber, dog collars, and hobble skirts sat at booths with cracked leather seats, drinking sodas and eating nacho chips with no more self-consciousness than if they’d been wearing blue jeans.
He felt Samantha relax a bit as they pushed through the glass door and walked into the steam-and-spice-infused air of the diner. She didn’t relax as completely as he knew she was capable of, though, and he was glad.
He wanted her off balance. In his experience, people tended to be more honest when they were.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked as he settled her into a booth, regretting the embarrassment that was on her face. So many people worried after letting go in a scene, after spilling a secret that they’d held close to them.
But the entire point of the BDSM lifestyle was exactly that: to let go.
“Diet cola, please.” Samantha kept her eyes down and Elijah frowned. It wasn’t that she was feeling submissive, he knew, but that she felt embarrassed.
He needed to give her something else to think about.
Leaning over, he placed his hands on her shoulders, wishing it was her soft skin he was touching rather than the thin weave of the cardigan that she’d insisted on putting on over her nightie. She looked up at the touch, startled.
Though he wanted to take a moment to inhale that floral scent that was so uniquely hers, he kept her needs in the front of his mind. Without any warning, Elijah slanted his lips over Samantha’s in a kiss that was hot and hard, demanding more.
He heard her swift intake of breath—felt his own breath catch—and savored the feeling of her trembling beneath his fingers. He deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue over the seam of her lips, demanding entrance.
He’d started the kiss as a distraction for her, but felt the heat flash all the way through his body.
She didn’t become limp and pliant beneath his caress; instead, she answered with her own fire. He hadn’t expected it, but he thrilled to it just the same.
A wolf whistle pierced the lust-fueled haze that surrounded them, reminding Elijah of where they were, of why he had kissed Samantha in the first place.
Slowly he pulled back, feeling the heat of her lips imprinted on his own.
As she blinked up at him with those mesmerizing green eyes, her fingers strayed to her lips to trace the path that his mouth had just traveled.
“I’ll go get you some food. Why don’t you stay here?” Truthfully, Elijah was relieved to have a moment to clear his thoughts.
Shit. That kiss had made his head spin . . . and it was simply a kiss. It made him wonder what would happen when he was deep inside her again, her wrists bound, her body beneath his.
His cock liked that image and threatened to stand at attention. He inhaled deeply to calm himself down. A raging erection might have been perfectly normal at a BDSM club, but in other public places, even a diner that catered to the same crowd, it wasn’t exactly the norm.
He ordered a meal for the two of them and carried it back to the table. Samantha immediately grabbed the soda he offered her and sucked deeply on the straw, her cheeks hollowing as she did and bringing all kinds of other naughty images to his mind.
She frowned and looked at him over the plastic lid of the cup. “This isn’t diet.” Unlike many women he’d met, who would have sulked or made a fuss, she simply raised an eyebrow in question.
“You don’t need diet,” he replied, offering her a crooked smile.
What she needed was the sugar and caffeine of the regular version after the intensity of their scene at Pecado.
“I haven’t made a decision yet.” Samantha didn’t wait for him to start the conversation.
“You have until tonight.” Elijah pulled the tray of food to him, picked out a fish taco with salsa and sour cream, and handed it to Samantha.
She took it, but looked disgruntled.
“I have until tomorrow,” she reminded him, then sniffed at the taco. “And I don’t like fish.”
“I think you’ll like this,” Elijah promised, picking up one of his own and biting into it. The flavors exploded across his tongue, and he found that he even resented the potency, because it chased away the taste of Samantha.
“And, no, you have until the end of today. It’s after midnight.”
Craning her neck, Samantha looked around until her gaze faced a large clock mounted on the diner’s wall. She muttered something under her breath, then glared at the taco.
“I’ve never found a fish I like.” She sniffed again, and Elijah swallowed a chuckle when he heard her stomach growl.
He made a show of shrugging carelessly. “That’s all I ordered.”
She eyed the taco again, clearly considering it. She raised it, then lowered it again, watching curiously as Elijah finished his first taco and picked up a second.
“Yes?” he asked her, reaching for her soda to steal a sip.
“I didn’t take you for the kind of man to enjoy cheap tacos at an all-night diner,” she said, then finally nibbled at the corner of the tortilla. Elijah watched with satisfaction as pleasure spread over her face—pleasure that she visibly tried to repress.
She was so damn cute when she was contrary . . . which was all the time. She intrigued him enough that he was willing to indulge her contrary streak a while longer.
He knew that when she finally did submit to him, it would be well worth the wait.
He watched as she took a second bite of the taco, pursing her lips when she caught him watching.
“How is it?” he asked seriously, holding back another grin when Samantha raised her nose in the air.
“It’s better than it should be, given that it’s fish.” She met his eyes and the corners of her lips turned up warily, seeming to know she’d been caught.
“I’m not sure I should tell you this, but I will. You confuse me.” Elijah cocked his head at her to observe her reaction, studying the way the low light of the diner’s interior shone on her cherry red curls.
Samantha swallowed a bite of taco. Man, he could watch her mouth all day. Her tongue flicked out over her lips and he stifled a groan.
“Why do I confuse you?” Her voice was hesitant. She reached for a napkin to wipe her fingers, then crumpled it up in a suddenly tight fist.
“I don’t think I believe you want to be fully submissive,” he said finally, and he made sure to make his tone arrogant. He wanted to rile her up, wanted to see what her reaction would be.
She didn’t disappoint. Her cheeks flushed with temper and she tossed the crumpled napkin down on the tray as her shoulders stiffened.
“Don’t tell me what I want.” Her eyes were like green arrows pinning him where he sat.
Elijah calmly picked up the shared soda for another sip.
“If I was your Dom, that’s exactly what I would do.”
“What do you mean?” Her brow furrowed, and he saw that he had taken her aback.
Good. Just as intended.
“If we were together, you would give care of yourself to me. You would do what I said because you would trust me to fulfill your needs, and often your wants as well.” He watched as she inhaled sharply, her cheeks flushing beneath his intense scrutiny. “That includes telling me things that might be uncomfortable. I will never abuse any of the knowledge or trust that you give to me, but in order for me to take care of you properly, you need to be open.”
He continued after a pause. “You would need to give yourself to me entirely. And I don’t know that you’re enti
rely capable of doing that.” The more time he spent around her, the more Elijah wondered about it.
She was like a flame: beautiful, ever changing, dangerous.
He wasn’t sure he could stay away.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say.” Samantha pushed the tray across the table, having clearly lost her appetite. Her color was better than it had been in the club, thanks to the food and drink, and he was satisfied that she’d be able to make it home without passing out.
“You’ve seen a lot tonight.” Elijah stood and offered his hand to Samantha. She stared at it for a long moment, as if no one had ever offered her help before. Slowly she took it, and stood as well.
The naked length of her legs, capped by those siren red shoes, and the memory of what lay between them tested his patience sorely. He wanted to pick her up, to have her wrap those long legs around his waist while he pressed her against the diner wall, shoved her panties aside, and drove himself inside her, audience or not. In fact, the idea of having spectators turned him on even more.
The lifestyle had taught him, however, that the longer gratification was delayed, the bigger the reward. So he pushed down his base urges and did no more than rub a thumb over her hand.
“You’ll contact me tonight.” It would be a long, long wait until then, but he had no choice but to ride the wave of anticipation.
When she came to tell him that she would accept the commission—and he was sure she would—he would take it one step further. He would ask her for a night together at Devorar, his club, where he could take her further into her explorations.
“Here—” Reaching into the pocket of her cardigan, Samantha withdrew a handful of peso notes, which she tried to give to him. Elijah gently folded her hand back around them and pushed it away.
She opened her mouth, and he knew she was going to argue. He frowned.
“I like to take care of the woman I’m with. You would need to get used to that.” He enjoyed the way her lips parted in surprise. Silently she tucked the money back into the pocket of her sweater.
He could all but hear the gears turning in her brain. She’d been introduced to a lot over the last few hours, and Elijah knew that now it was time to give her some space to process.
“Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.” He just hoped that she would come to the right conclusion, because he was certain of one thing.
He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything in his life.
He was a planner, a strategist, and he had more than enough money to help him with his ideas. He would do whatever it took to persuade her that she wanted him too.
CHAPTER SIX
Instead of feeling tired when she arrived home from Pecado, Samantha had been filled with nearly manic energy. By two in the morning she’d had to go out to her studio, to try to capture her feelings in a glass piece that she planned to color the palest shade of pink to represent the evening’s encounter with Elijah.
She hadn’t had any success—hadn’t been able to concentrate on the work.
The bubble of glass on the end of her pipe began to hang lopsided. She cursed; she hadn’t been paying enough attention, hadn’t turned the pipe evenly. The result was thicker glass on one side than the other.
Sometimes this was a happy accident, something that worked into the piece she ultimately had in mind. Yet since what she was trying to create showed balance, a yin and a yang, this looked all kinds of wrong.
“Bloody hell.” Exhaling harshly, Samantha rose to take the pipe back to the furnace. There, she scraped the creation back into the melt, where it would become something else some other time.
Closing her eyes, she placed her hands behind her head and arched her back, stretching out the muscles that had cramped during her hours of work. She was sore, but it wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to.
The tender flesh between her legs, though—that was a new sensation. She pictured Elijah’s golden head as it had been that night, nuzzled at the apex of her thighs, and felt heat flash all over her body.
“Submissive.” Samantha whispered the word, then repeated it to herself more loudly.
Was that really what she wanted?
She thought back to her night at the club. She’d been startled by a lot of the things she’d seen—even appalled by some of the activities mentioned on the questionnaire that Angelo had had her fill out.
When Angelo had given her commands, she had felt herself respond, but it had been a mild sensation. Like when someone walked by with an ice-cream cone after she’d just finished dinner—there was interest, but not a deep desire.
Yet when Elijah told her what to do, it had been like a tsunami descending upon her entire being. She’d found that she had no choice but to respond. And more, she wanted to follow his commands.
She still wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about being spanked. Wasn’t certain she liked the idea of crops, or whips, or canes—even if the lashes were delivered by Elijah.
But being restrained—that had been a major turn-on. More than that, the manner in which Elijah had taken her in his arms after she’d had her momentary panic attack had filled something deep inside her. The way he’d wrapped her in a blanket, held her close, fed her—it had been strange and some kind of wonderful to be taken care of.
That was what she wanted, more than anything she’d seen in the BDSM club. She wanted a strong man, a man who would take care of her without questioning her endlessly about it. A man who wasn’t put off by the fact that she could be argumentative and stubborn.
Elijah was that man. She was absolutely sure of it.
“I can do this.” Suddenly too warm, Samantha strode across the small studio and wrenched open the door. The early-morning air was cool, refreshing her and filling her with new purpose.
The man seemed to have gotten it into his head that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—submit. He was so stuck on it that Samantha figured it must be really important to him.
She needed to prove to him that she could do it. Her evening at the club had simply been to test the waters before she dove in.
She now felt ready—as ready as she would ever be.
She would accept his offer of the commission, because she needed the money for her sister and it could pay off the remainder of Beth’s student loans, as well as buy her diabetic supplies for a full year.
But along with the money, she had a request to make of him. She wanted to learn how to be a submissive, and the month it would take her to finish the piece of glasswork seemed like a perfect opportunity to ask the man she wanted to be with to teach her.
The idea of an entire month in Elijah’s care made her skin flush, made her ache in that empty place between her thighs.
She wanted a strong man. She was sure that Elijah was the one she’d been looking for, and she wasn’t about to let him get away.
• • •
“Señorita Collins is here to see you.” Elijah’s administrative assistant at the resort office, Lupe, knocked on the door even though it was cracked open. Her eyes were wide as she regarded him. “She’s very pretty.”
“She certainly is.” Elijah felt his spirits lift. He’d been filled with anticipation ever since he’d left Samantha at her car the night before. He’d managed to catch a couple of hours of sleep, but it hadn’t lessened the sensation.
He’d promised that she could have until the end of the day, and he’d built his business reputation by honoring his word. But he found that he couldn’t focus on his work, as images of Samantha in that lacy little nightie, legs and arms spread and in chains, kept running through his mind.
He hadn’t expected to hear from her until early evening at the very soonest. He certainly hadn’t expected her to show up at his office, but his body came alert at the very mention of her name.
“Bring her in, please, Lupe.” His assistant disappeared around the door again, and Elijah felt his nerves humming in pleasant anticipation.
Samantha appeared in the doorway, her
face a study in nervousness.
“I didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon.” He wanted to rise, to pull her to him and reenact the kiss that had haunted his mind since the night before.
But for this to work, she needed to come to him. Though his muscles twitched, he forced himself to remain seated.
“I’m going to create your sculpture.” Though Samantha’s face revealed her tension, her voice was strong. Elijah savored the sound.
It took a very strong woman to submit. And he hoped she would prove strong enough.
“I’m accepting the commission, and I’m hoping you’ll do something for me at the same time.” She stepped closer to him. He cursed inwardly when he saw that she was wearing those red fuck-me sandals again, paired with a lacy white sundress that made her seem sweet and innocent.
He wondered if she was wearing anything underneath the sundress.
Her contrasts were driving him crazy.
“What is it you want?” Elijah watched the way her breasts quivered as she exhaled.
She stepped closer and planted her hands on his desk.
Samantha flipped her long braid back over her shoulder, and he caught a hint of her wildflower scent. His body was already conditioned to respond to the smell of her, the taste, and he felt his cock begin to thicken.
Elijah looked into those vivid green eyes, felt the pull of attraction.
Samantha hesitated for a moment, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, and his eyes tracked the movement.
“I want to explore my . . . my submissive side.”
Elijah felt his entire body clench with anticipation.
“And I would like your help.”
“I need you to say the words.” Of all the things she might have asked for, this had never crossed his mind.
“I want to know what it’s like to be someone’s submissive.” Her words were soft but sure. “Your submissive. At least for the time it takes me to complete the sculpture. And then I can decide whether it’s really right for me.”
He watched as she inhaled deeply, then sank her teeth into her lower lip. Next, in one swift movement she bent, fisted her hands in the hem of her sundress, and lifted it up and over her head.
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