by Riley Murphy
When she stilled and did exactly as he’d asked, he slowly drew his finger down her again, only this time he pressed harder until her folds parted and he connected with slick, velvet flesh. Over and over, he went up and down, pressing and then easing, circling and brushing. Steady. So steady as she quaked and trembled against him. He was relentless while she sighed, panted and moaned.
God she was drenched, but he kept up the pace until his own limits were stretched to the max. This was all about her, so he fought off his need and went after hers.
“Relax and breathe. Don’t forget to breathe,” he whispered, before he slid his middle finger all the way into her and found the spot.
She gave a little jerk and gasped.
“Easy, that’s right. Very good.” He braced himself for her reaction as he moved in a clockwise motion. Massaging the hyper-sensitive tissue until he felt it harden. When it did he changed his motion. Pressing his fingertip against one erect side, he jiggled. Hard.
“Oh God!”
That cry inspired him to jiggle that much harder as she screamed and came and screamed and came some more. But these little orgasms didn’t interest him. They were merely the stepping stones to the one that did.
“David!”
He didn’t let up on her. He was patient and stalwart in his pursuit until he gauged how completely her body language changed. How acutely her breathing pattern dropped into lower register tones. Muscles trembling. Teeth chattering. Oh yeah, he’d pushed her to the edge and now it was time he took her over it.
With one stroke of his finger he landed right on the spot and smudged. Crushing the delicate tissue and forcing all those nerve endings inside her to crackle and spark to life.
“Fall for me, angel. I’m here ready to catch you. Fall for me.”
This time when she screamed it was the raw and primal sound he wanted from her. A guttural groan of satisfaction so deep it came from her soul. Hearing that, he was satisfied and ended this sensual torture as gently as he started it, when he eased out of her. Only he wasn’t prepared for what came next. He’d intended to lift her up. Tuck her in. Tell her how well she’d pleased him, when she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.
It was more than a hug.
Damn.
He didn’t move. He stayed right there and let her draw some strength from him. This wasn’t about sex. It wasn’t about power either. Right now if he weren’t mistaken, it was about trust. She’d given it and he’d taken it, without abusing the privilege. Jesus, how many times had she been let down before? Judging by the way she was clinging to him at the moment? He’d put money on a lot.
He didn’t know how long it took before she finally fell asleep, but when she did he was careful moving her up in the bed. After he tucked the covers around her, he straightened. Lacy Pembrook was definitely a puzzle and the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to solve the mystery of her.
He turned to shut off the light and caught sight of the paddle. Was that—? He squinted and bent to get a closer look. Why yes it was. One of Lacy’s infamous smiley faces. She’d drawn it on the lower right hand corner. Complete with quirky eyebrows. He couldn’t help grinning when he read the short sentence below it.
For happy times.
She was a puzzle all right. Thoughtful and mature when it came to all aspects of her life except for one. Relationships. He’d watched her pull the clueless, cute and sarcastic card on him more times than he could count, and it hadn’t really bothered him. Not like is should have. If he weren’t mistaken it actually worked to keep him invested. There was a reason she behaved this way, but more importantly there was a reason he was attracted to this kind of behavior. Maybe he’d been taking life too seriously for too long now.
He reached to turn off the light when something occurred to him. Picking up the paddle he turned it over and nearly laughed out loud. There in the bottom corner was another drawing. Only this one was a sad face complete with one lone tear drop. And the short sentence below it?
For those times when I’m “not completely delighted.”
He shook his head. Guts. She had them. It was a good thing too, because they’d stand her in good stead over the next two weeks.
Especially tomorrow.
By the time David got into his own bed he was feeling better than he had in years until the old anxieties surfaced and he spent the better part of an hour trying to keep the skeletons at bay. He’d known they’d start to rattle the minute he’d brought Lacy into his home. Memories didn’t like competition. Neither did reality so the past was going to have to stay there.
Lacy wasn’t Elaina. She may need him as much as Elaina had, but Lacy was different. He was different. This time everything was going be different.
Eventually he fell asleep, only slumber didn’t last long when he sat up covered in a cold sweat. He’d had a bad dream. The same old bad dream about…Elaina.
Raking a hand through his hair he tried to shake it off. He hadn’t had this dream in years. He tried to tell himself it was probably her annual letter that triggered it, but then that had come over three months ago, so he had to face the truth.
Bringing Lacy here had pushed the skeletons out of the closet it would seem.
“Shit.”
Lying back he clasped his hands behind his head and stared into the darkness. Lacy wasn’t Elaina. Lacy broke rules and challenged him. She sent smiley faces and hid behind a wall of bratty cuteness that sometimes made him smile. Elaina would never have done those things. There was nothing similar about the two.
Except when it came to the matter of trust.
“Damn…”
Chapter Six
Lacy woke up and had to think for a moment about where she was. When it came to her, she sat up, brushed the sleep from her eyes and had a look around. The room seemed different in the soft morning light, but she lost all interest in those differences when she spied the Post-t Note stuck to the headboard. Snatching it off, she read what David had written.
Good morning,
Once you’re up and ready for the day (wear something comfortable) follow the yellow and come find me. I have breakfast waiting and we can talk about plans for the day.
D.
She scooted to the edge of the bed and kicked aside the covers. Comfortable? She was sure her ideas on that and his were different. Hers included clothes and his probably not, but at least he’d left the choice up to her. That was one thing and by the time she’d washed and brushed her teeth she’d decided on her choice. She was going with her favorite Levis, her Dali t-shirt and a pair of sneakers. She was in the process of lacing up the latter when thoughts of the night before broke through the rather large mental block she’d erected in an attempt to hold them off. After spying the large D and H hickey tattoos he’d made over each hip and the smaller initials on her inner thighs, she’d been crazy to think she could just forget about what happened on that stool.
What about after that?
“Damn it.” She finished the last shoestring bow with a harder than intended tug and stood to make the bed. With each flick of the sheet, flashes of what he’d done to her against those linens, burst in her mind. The intensity. The bone melting feeling of being overwhelmed by nonstop pleasure was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
Stopping, she stared at the perfectly executed hospital corner she’d made and frowned. There was a moment last night, hell, maybe more than one that she’d thought she’d pass out. She couldn’t catch her breath or keep a handle on her tumbling emotions and yet? She’d chased the uncertainty of those moments until they crashed around her with an earth shattering calm. He’d given that to her. It was no wonder she’d latched onto him in fear of letting go. He’d created a wild tempest and then became the steady rock she needed to cling to so she didn’t drown.
You’re used to drowning. How had David known?
“Smart and sexy,” she whispered as she made one last swiping pass across the duvet. Satisfied
when she noted there was not a wrinkle to be found, she turned and left her room.
Following the yellow sticky papers turned out to be fun as David had taken the time to write clues on each one. Hot, hot, hotter and when she got down to the bottom of the stairs and went to the closed high double doors to retrieve the square note on there she smiled, because the note said, Boo, cold. Hint turn around. When she did, she spied the line of yellow paper stuck to the wall beside the staircase. The paper path disappeared through an archway that led to a large hallway beyond.
She shook her head and went to collect each one to read them. Hot, hot, hot, hotter, more hot, on fire, sizzling, until she got to the last one stuck on a beautiful arched wooden door and read, Quick, come in before you burn up. That made her chuckle.
She didn’t knock and once she was in she realized she probably should have as this was David’s office. His big and well-appointed office where he sat talking on the phone.
“I said eight hundred thousand and not a penny more. I don’t care about that. No.”
He hadn’t looked up so she figured she could sneak back out and wait a few minutes before she knocked, but he must have spotted her.
“Wait, Lacy. Stay.”
She swung around and gestured to the phone in his hand. She really felt bad about interrupting him.
“Listen, Alistair, make it work. I have to go. Something important has come up. Yes, more important. I know. Thanks. Bye.”
Lacy was prepared to wait. If he didn’t mind her being in his office while he worked, then she could deal with it. She walked over to one side of the room and studied the painting hanging over the fireplace. Although it was more pop art than traditional, it worked well in this space. And of course the subject matter fit David perfectly.
“It’s titled Time To Hang It Up. That’s every Dom’s worse nightmare.”
She spun around and frowned. “Don’t you have something more important to deal with?”
“I do.” He came around the desk and sat back against it. “And I am. How did you sleep?”
Was he always so good looking? What was with the butterflies in her stomach? Was she really his “something more important” this morning?
“I slept fine.” When he tilted his head and crossed his arms over his chest, she was instantly reminded of what he had going on under that suit. The recalled image caused certain parts of her to go all tingly. Not good. What she needed was distraction. The painting. That would do. She twisted around and took another look at it. It depicted a modern day robot brandishing a whip above a woman’s reddened bottom.
Turning back she asked, “A Dom’s nightmare? I don’t get it.”
“If you’re only going through the motions you have no business handling the whip.”
“Oh.” She nodded. Made sense.
“Salvador Dali?”
She followed his point to her shirt and said, “Yeah, Daddy Longlegs of the Evening - Hope, it’s one of my favorite paintings of his. I love this top.”
He leaned forward and squinted. “Hm. I don’t see it.”
“Not everyone gets Dali.”
He dropped his arms and stood. “Oh, I get him, but I don’t see where you indicate your love for the shirt. Your patented smiley face with the words, I’m completely delighted, beneath it appears to be missing.”
“Ahhh,” She drew out the sound for effect. “You saw the paddle then?”
“I did.” He walked over to her and she expected him to say something more about her defacing his prop when he surprised her by asking, “Do you know what legend says about the daddy longlegs spider? Folklore has it that if you see one in the evening you’ll have good luck. Amid all the chaos?” He pointed to her shirt again, “Dali saw hope.”
He was so close she could feel the heat that poured off him, or maybe it was her own heat. In any case, she wanted to fan herself. She couldn’t look away from his probing gaze either. How had it happened? For a month and half she’d kept her emotional distance and now after their first real physical encounter she was one big responsive-to-him mess.
“Did you mention something in your first note about breakfast? I’m starved.”
She wasn’t and she probably wouldn’t eat a cereal flake given that she wanted to dive all over him at the moment, but she’d try to act natural. At least until she got a handle on this overwhelming lust.
“Yes I had—” A buzzer went off and he frowned. “That’s Andrew. I’ll only be a second. I had him set the table up over there, by the bay window.”
Lacy headed in the direction of the window, but not before she watched him walk back to his desk. This David was almost the David she was used to. Almost.
“Lacy?”
She turned before she sat down in one of the upholstered parson’s chairs. “Yes?”
“Did you make your bed before you came down here?”
“Yeah.” She went to sit down and then hesitated. “Wait, was that why Andrew buzzed you? Wasn’t it good enough?”
“It was fine. Sit.” When he took the chair opposite her on the other side of the table she waited for him to say more. She definitely heard a ‘but’ in there somewhere. “But the beds are changed on a daily basis so there’s no need for you to go through the trouble.”
She dropped her napkin on her lap and frowned. “Daily? Who are you, Oprah Winfrey? I hear she does the same thing.”
He picked up his napkin. “And who are you? One of your friends again? I much preferred Lacy Pembrook, owner of a kick-ass Dali t-shirt.”
She blinked as she had nothing to say to that. She wasn’t going to let him charm her.
After he waited a beat he settled back in his chair and added, “And no, I’m not Oprah, but I admire her though. She’s an epic.”
“Good to know. Strawberry?” She pushed the bowl of plump red berries his way.
“No thanks. I prefer those served a different way.”
Yeah, she didn’t have to burn any brain cells trying to figure out how that way probably worked. “You certainly have a lot of preferences.”
“Guilty.” He hiked a brow and, worse than that, he shrugged. After all the grief he’d given her over the gesture last night, here he was doing it as he continued, “What can I say? I’m a man with particular tastes.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Me, too.” Sinking back, her spine had barely rested against the fabric when she sprang forward to add, “Only I’m a woman.”
His deep grin made her want to slide under the table. “Good to know. Muffin?”
Oh for fuck’s sake. Why not? “Sure.”
She chewed without tasting. Her every thought was that maybe she was in over her head here. He’d pegged her for a wanderer, but she was fast coming to see she was a deserter. Was there a difference?
“So tell me, what’s the reason you take this getaway trip every year at this time?”
She almost choked on her bite of muffin. Where did this come from? “Who told you there was a reason?”
He didn’t even flinch, he just stared. “You did.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me.”
She thought about it for a few seconds and decided either he was really smart or she was really stupid because she was going to be honest with him. She wasn’t even sure why she was doing it. “It’s my brother’s birthday. My parents always throw a big party and I don’t like to go.”
“When is it?”
“On Sunday.”
“So, in less than a week.”
She looked down and fiddled with her napkin. “Yeah.”
“Let them know we’ll be there.”
That got her attention. “What? No.”
And her adamant reply got his attention too. He pushed his plate aside. Pushed his napkin aside and rested his folded arms on the table. “Yes.”
“You’re going to make me go?”
He wasn’t even fazed. Clearly she needed to bone up in the puppy-dog eyes department because they had no effect on him.
“We’re going to go. Unless you use an out.”
An out? Did he mean…? “My safe word?”
“It’s about limits. If you and I visiting your parents pushes you beyond what you can comfortably deal with, then yes, I mean your safe word. Tell me now.”
Oh boy. It was on the tip of her tongue to shout cowbell so loudly all the distant neighbors would hear, but would it be right to do that? It wasn’t the party itself, it was her family. Surely she could deal with them for a few hours. After all, it was him she had to worry about. In the coming days there might be a time when she’d have to legitimately use her out. Best not to be the wolf crier at this point.
“No, I’ll call them. It will be fun.”
“Perfect. Is there anything you should tell me about your family?”
She shook her head. Praying the word absolutely wasn’t written all over her face.
“You’re sure?”
She couldn’t look him in the eyes when she nodded. She remained turned away for what seemed like five full excruciating minutes, but it was probably only one, as he studied her. She could feel his gaze drilling into the side of her head. Any second now the expansive quiet was going to break her.
“Are you finished?”
That question broke something. The terrible silence and she wanted to jump up and scream, Yes, yes I’m finished. I want to go home, but she wasn’t a wanderer. She wasn’t.
“Yes.” Now she looked at him. “Did I read something about plans for us today?”
He stood and held his hand out toward her. “For us?”
“Yes.” She put her hand in his and went to get up.
“No.”
“But I thought…” She hesitated, looking up at him.
“Do I have plans for you? Yes.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit.
“Lacy?” He tilted up her chin.
“Yes?”
“Are you nervous?”
She shouldn’t have been. He was softly caressing her cheek with the pad of his thumb, and his eyes no longer had that earlier intensity. Yet here she was. Nervous as hell. “Yes.”