by Riley Murphy
Immediately she was treated to not only him, but the things around him. Two items in particular made her nervous. The stool that was positioned right in front of him and the wooden paddle lying across the top of it. When her gaze met his, she knew without a doubt he meant business. He pulled out the keys to the belt, holding them up and letting them swing pendulum style as the metal flashed occasionally when kissed by the rays of the licking flames behind.
“It’s time for you to make that choice.”
No doubt he was going to unlock the belt if she agreed to a spanking. She sized up the paddle and decided she could handle it. She’d probably enjoy it, too, but she didn’t want him to know that. Trying to keep her expression unreadable she made her way over to him. “I’m ready.”
“Good.” He placed the keys on the paddle and then pointed to the stairs. “Here’s your choice. You may go upstairs and walk to the end of the hall where you’ll find the double doors to my room open. To the left of the master bed, there’s a door and through that there’s the room you’ll be sleeping in. Or you can choose this.” He placed his palm over the keys and added, “The paddle, the stool and the way out of the belt.”
Not what she’d been expecting. She should have known he’d mix things up a little. The fire snapped and crackled as the light it cast haloed around him. She wanted to believe it was the shadows and flares of light that made him look different, but it wasn’t. He didn’t appear to be different. He was different. His demeanor and the way he stood. Even the husky tone of his voice caused tiny tingles to skitter down her spine.
She put aside her apprehension, her questions and complaints, and indicated to the items on the stool. “All right. I’ll go with these.”
He looked down and then back up at her. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” But she wasn’t sure at all. Her heart raced and so did her pulse. Maybe she was an adrenaline junky because this was the first time she could ever remember being in the same room with a guy breathlessly anticipating what was going to come next. Sure she’d felt this way while they had their sexting sessions, but she’d thought that was due to distance and her using her own imagination to fill the void of not having him present.
He collected the keys and stared right at her. “Lift up your skirt.”
She was going to nod, but then she quickly had another look around just in case the butler had returned.
“Now.”
Okay, she got it. He was in Dom mode. Nodding, she put her purse down on the ground and without looking at him, she walked around the stool and did as he instructed. She heard one click, then two.
“Open your legs please.”
Suddenly the darkness was her friend. At least he wouldn’t see how uncomfortable she was. But then she could take this kind of uncomfortable over the other kind she’d lived with. Biting her lip and holding her breath she waited until the weight was off her. When it was, she breathed a sigh of relief. Then before she changed her mind, she dropped her skirt and turned, bending to get her purse.
“Lacy.”
“Give me a sec.” She rummaged through her bag. “Here it is.” Standing, she held out the instructions and warranty to him. “You may as well get a refund as I wasn’t ‘completely’ delighted.”
One side of his mouth tipped up in a grin she didn’t recognize. The sexy gesture was devious. Devilish and totally trained on her as he tossed the belt onto a leather arm chair that was a few feet from them. “I am. So that”—he gave a curt nod in the general direction of the chai—“is a keeper.”
“David.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to reason with him. He wasn’t brandishing a power tool this time and yet she was more afraid of him now then she had been earlier today. It made no sense.
“Take off your clothes.”
Just like that? She moved to unbutton her blouse and then hesitated. She was going to apologize again, but other words came out of her mouth instead. “What? No foreplay?”
She envisioned him chuckling or accusing her of having guts like he’d done numerous times before, so when he didn’t, she gasped as he shot forward and took hold of her arms. Dragging her into him so fast her hair fell in a bounce behind her shoulders. “I think our little sexting sessions and our date night once a week have given you the wrong impression of me.”
She didn’t like the firm edge to his voice. It made her wince. And they were so close now, almost nose to nose, that he looked like a menacing blur. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah—yes.”
“Good, then here’s how this is going to go. You are going to keep quiet and do as I tell you. You speak only when you are asked to speak.”
Her heart pounded and she wasn’t sure whether this was one of those times so she nodded.
“You’ve already given me a list of all your ‘dos and don’ts’. I hope you were paying attention during those romantic candlelit dinners as much as I was.”
Oh boy, she hadn’t. She’d been too busy trying to impress him. And when that thought came to her, so did another. Had she upped her game in the do or don’t department to excite him? That sounded like something she’d do. With her little to no attention span, and her hell yeah, put off today what you may get to tomorrow attitude she was probably deep in the doo right now. She needed to pay attention. This time when he spoke she was not only listening, but she was reading his lips as an added precaution.
“I know we covered”—he cocked his head to the side and contemplated for a second—“What did you call it—your get-out-of-David’s-jail password?—but we both know it’s a safe word and I insist you use it if you ever need to. You remember what yours is, don’t you?”
Yes. She thought she nodded, but she wasn’t sure.
“Say it.”
“Cowbell.”
His grip eased on her arms. Of course he was relaxing. He had nothing to freak out over. Not like her.
“You’re so stiff.” He leaned down and pressed the side of his face against her temple. His warmth was comforting. “Are you worried?”
In his present mood she was sticking to the truth. No matter what. Squeezing her lids shut, she admitted, “Yes.”
“Good.”
Her eyes snapped open when he let her go. “But—”
“Lacy,” he drew her name out like Lai-cee and waited. Staring at her. She knew what he was doing. He was daring her to continue talking and when she didn’t, he said, “You’re beginning to understand. Now, take off your clothes.”
She understood all right. She should have been paying better attention. She should have never deceived him. She should have never started dating him in the first place. You knew bad things would happen. She threw her blouse toward the chair but she was in such a snit that it sailed right over it.
“Temper, temper.”
When she heard that annoying warning, she kicked off her shoes and nearly ripped her skirt yanking it down. She couldn’t flop herself fast enough over that stool to get paddled, that was for sure. Fuck the bad. The sooner she dealt with it the sooner she’d get back the old David. The nice and charming date night guy who made her laugh.
When she was naked she didn’t say anything. She knew if she wasn’t careful she wouldn’t have to speak. He’d know how she was feeling. So better he think she’s being flippant than what she really was...nervous as hell. With shoulders back she made sure her body language spoke volumes as she gave him a there, are you happy now, pose.
It was as if she’d spoken the words out loud when he replied, “No. This doesn’t make me happy.” He picked up the paddle and slapped it a couple of times against his palm. “In fact, you behaving like each of your friends is frustrating. First with the cutsie idea that I should return The Queen Anne—that move had Ethan’s charming little wife written all over it—and now this?” He pointed at her with the paddle and swept it in a head to toe wave. “This reminds me of Jo Nehr. Bratty and belligerent. When are you going to learn to be yourself around m
e? That’s what I want to know.”
Since she’d really never been asked to be herself before, she didn’t know how to act or what to answer. This made the silence that stretched between them very awkward until it finally shattered when he sighed.
“Okay.” He pitched the paddle and it landed beside the belt on the chair, “I guess we’re going to find out together.” Patting the stool he said, “I want you to sit here.”
She shrugged. Once again this was not what she’d been expecting, but she wasn’t going to argue about it. “Okay, but I thought you wanted me to bend over it so you could spank me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and hiked a brow. “Is that what you thought? I don’t need a stool or a paddle to do that. Besides, it would be too easy.”
Great. She was looking at hard here. She stepped to the stool and shrugged, ready to get on it when his arm shot out blocking her way.
“No more. There will be no more shrugging. You may park that noncommittal gesture right beside you’re favorite word: thing. I don’t want to see or hear either one for the next two weeks.”
Her eyebrows popped up, but she refrained from mouthing the word, wow, as he’d likely call her on mimicking Colin again. Too bad she couldn’t hold her tongue as well. “I suppose next you’re gonna tell me to stand up straight and keep my shoulders back too?”
He helped her on to the stool and when she was seated and facing him, he tipped up her chin. “Seems I don’t have to since you already know.”
So not fair. She was going to have to pay attention for real. He was gaining ground here without even trying. Taking a deep breath through her nose and releasing it out her mouth, she waited for the hard to happen. She really hoped it wasn’t humiliation play as she couldn’t remember if she said do or don’t to that. One of her exes had called her a fucking hamster when they were eating corn on the cob in bed one night. She thought he’d been joking, but when she went to laugh he’d pounced on her and began growling out other animal related endearments. “You sexy fox”, “You dirty little piglet”, but when he said “You smelly little skunk”, she couldn’t do it. Jesus, the look on his face when she rolled out of bed—she shook her head—if anyone had smelled like a skunk it was him.
“Lacy.”
She jerked and opened her eyes. Oh no. Despite his lack of expression she wanted to melt into the stool. He had to be mad. “Yeah?”
“What were you smiling about?”
Had she really thought she could stick to 100% truth no matter what? Really? If that were the case how could she explain this kind of what? “I, ah…” His stare got more intense. “I, um…” She tried to look away. She really did. Her head moved but her eyes couldn’t seem to follow suit. “I was…”
“Don’t you find hedging more work than just answering a simple question?”
Her eyes widened of their own accord. “I do, but I’m not sure this is the time for a simple answer.”
“Why?”
“I’m sitting naked on a stool and you’re acting all weird and I highly doubt this is the time to tell you about one of my exes who had an animal thin—fetish.”
“I see.” He bent forward and brushed the hair off her shoulder saying, “We need to get you focused.”
She tried to look him in the eyes but he was staring down at her shoulder. “You’re not mad?”
“Disappointed,” he murmured offhandedly. “I like this beauty mark. It’s shaped like a heart.”
His fingertips were warm when he drew them over the spot. So warm she forgot what she was going to say to him.
“I also like that you’re wearing the collar I sent,” he drew a knuckle over it causing goose bumps to surface on her skin. “But where are the bracelets and anklets that match?”
“In my bag.”
“Oh.” He immediately stopped touching her neck and asked, “Do you like stories?”
“I suppose. What are you doing?”
“I’m readjusting you.”
She gathered that as he worked to scoot her so her bottom went to the very back of the stool, positioning her right on the edge and then spreading her knees apart. She had no choice but to hunch forward and grab hold of the front of the stool to keep her balance.
“That’s better.” He moved her feet back further on the rungs which caused her legs to spread wider.
“For who?”
“What kind?” His voice was soft and inviting as he looked down at her, “Romances?”
“Sometimes.”
She shivered as he drew a finger in a lazy zigzag pattern up one side of her body, veering off to cut a tingle-inducing path across her rib cage as he moved to stand behind her. Once there, he rested his palm above her right hip and leaned down, speaking softly against her ear, “You remind me of the heroine in one of my favorite books. Her name was Z. The book was called Captivating Z. Which was clever, really, because in the end you never knew if it meant she was the one who should have been captivated or if she was the one who did the captivating. It could have gone either way.”
He pressed his palm against her in such a lover-like manner, as if he were trying to unearth secrets, that she couldn’t help but respond. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to relax.
“Z was a wanderer too. Only when her Dom found her, she was wandering the streets. In your case, you simply wander through life.”
That didn’t sound very attractive. She wasn’t going to spoil the moment by telling him that, as his direct attention was wrecking her, but in a good way. Besides, he was entitled to his own opinion, even if it was wrong.
His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Do you agree that you’re a wanderer?”
“No.” She didn’t mean to whisper the word, it came out like that. He’d probably take that as he was getting to her.
He is getting to you.
She cleared her throat, “I have roots. A home. A wanderer doesn’t have them.”
He curled his left hand around her left hip and held tight. “Do you want to know why I think you are like the character in that book?”
She could guess the answer to that, so she asked him the question she didn’t have the answer to. “What I’d like to know is why you care? It’s not like I’m going to say no to having sex with you at this point, so why are you bothering with the schmoozing? And that character is fictional while I happen to be real.”
Now his right hand curled around her right hip and he jerked her back. Not very hard and not very far in the literal sense, but it was a world apart figuratively speaking, as it made her snap open her eyes and pay attention.
“Ah…but what kind of real are you?”
“The kind that isn’t a book.”
“Are you sure? I happen to believe we can all learn a great deal from books. Not the unique story woven on the pages, but the encapsulation of those pages and how that narrative is perceived. Every person is a story. Some people are epics. They are individuals who live impressive lives. They’re interesting and attention-seizing like the Pulitzer Prize winning novel. Others want to be near them as surely as avid readers devour the pages of that better-than-average book, marking it when they’re done as ‘to be read’ again. A person living an epic life is a classic just as the book is, because they remain timelessly interesting.
“Then there are those who live ordinary lives. They are the books you read and shelve as finished. There’s nothing astounding to them. Nothing surprising or insightful that would cause you to reread those pages because you’ve already gotten everything you could from the narrative.”
He let go of her and sank his hands in her hair. A first she thought he was going to pull so she’d be forced to look at him, but that’s not what he had in mind as he gently gathered the strands and proceeded to pin them up with what felt like bobby-pins. This was a move he’d planned ahead. It had to be, as she highly doubted he walked around with hairpins in his pockets. But then he started talking again and she put that thought aside to listen.
&nb
sp; “So we have epic, average and now…”He paused to gain another section of hair that rested against her nape. When his knuckles brushed her skin under the collar it caused her to shiver. If he noticed he didn’t say so. “The do not finish books. This is the story that is either not compelling enough for a person to invest their time in or they’ve tried to invest but can’t understand. People who live stories like this wind up being abandoned just like the books. Sad but true.”
She shouldn’t have spoken her curiosity out loud. She tried to hold it in and failed. “What story am I? The do not finish one?”
“No. And although I’m glad you’re paying attention, you’re going to have learn how to be patient.”
His words were followed by silence. Utter and complete quiet for a full minute that got her heart racing even as she tried to measure her breaths.
“Then there are people like you.” He breathed against the back of her neck after he’d finished pinning up the last of her hair. “Distracted individuals who wander through life plagiarizing copy from all of those other stories.”
“I do not—” The kiss he pressed against the soft flesh just behind her right ear distracted her. Damn it. He was right about that part of his conclusion, but not the rest. “—plagiarize anything.”
“No?” He rubbed his nose from the base of her neck to her earlobe. “In my experience, people who plagiarize are either too weak to create their own stories—”
“—You think I’m weak?”
“—Or their true story is too painful for them to write. I think buried under all your borrowing, there’s pain.”
Her heart beat so fast she was sure he’d see it. “N-no. That’s not true.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s all right.”
Those words and their meaning settled her some, but she still didn’t agree. Not fully. “I don’t borrow anything from anyone.”