by May Sage
Yes. God, yes, she was. Knowing that he needed assent, consent, she nodded, incapable of finding her voice.
"You're going to be the death of me," he stated with a grunt.
Likewise. But it might just be worth it.
"Let me be clear on this. Until this problem between you, Wallace, and your sister is sorted out, you'll remain protected, whether or not things work out between us, agreed?"
Another nod. This time, he didn't accept it.
"That's important. I want to hear you say it."
"Yes. Safety first and all that."
"Marvelous. Now that that's clear, let us mingle. The sooner we see everyone worth speaking to, the sooner we can get the hell out of here."
Her core tightened eagerly. She was really going to have this beautiful man all to herself tonight.
33
A Dance
Desmond glanced at his watch. One hour, he'd told himself. They'd remain an hour before making a graceful exit. Twenty-seven minutes after discussing the fact that he'd fuck Ryn's brains out tonight, he was ready to throw her over his shoulder and run out of the gala. The anticipation was killing him. Touching the soft skin of her golden arm, the small of her back, and feeling her body heat at his side was driving him insane, yet he couldn't help himself. He had to keep his hand on her softness, her heat, her scent.
She knew it, too. At some point, her brushing against him and standing close started to feel purposeful. His eyes narrowed. "Are you attempting to seduce me, Kathryn?"
"Not very well if you have to ask."
In truth, he wasn't used to flirting. Desmond typically informed those who piqued his interest that he wanted to fuck; that was enough. This dance she was leading was highly atypical for him. Was it what other men had to deal with? He'd never been happier to be a King.
"Oh, it's working just fine, if the result you're trying to reach is my dragging you to a closet and taking you right there."
She lifted a questioning brow. "And that's supposed to deter me how?"
Desmond was ever so tempted to make good on his threat, and he would have, too, if this hadn't been their very first night. Before he so much as touched her, he was going to have to talk, in a lot more detail than they had when he'd printed the checklist. He'd believed she'd use it with someone else. An easier man. A straightforward Dom after a little spice with their sugar, so to speak. Not him.
Ryn’s face lit up as the rather dull and old-fashioned music changed to yet another dull and old-fashioned song. “Come on, let’s dance. I like this.”
Desmond let her lead him to the middle of the ballroom, where a handful of pairs had started swaying out of sync with the terrible music. On principle, he would have refused to join that particular gaggle, but Ryn’s enthusiasm was catching. She laughed as she twisted, twirled, and turned with him, to the sound of Chris Montez’s “Let’s Dance.” Could anything be cheesier? Doubtful. But he found himself laughing and dancing along with her nonetheless.
He was still full of good intentions when she pulled at his sleeve to demand his attention. He dropped his gaze to her whiskey eyes just as she grabbed at his tie and pulled it down, lowering his lips to claim them with hers.
Holy fuck.
Ryn let go after an instant, perhaps not more than half a second. No half-second had ever lasted quite so long or made such a strong impression on him. He felt the simple touch through his limbs, all the way to his toes and fingertips. It awakened every part of him and froze him in place at first. The moment he regained his senses, he stepped in front of her, wrapped an arm around her waist and dipped his head down to hers again, taking his time to savor her sweetness. Her lips parted slightly, giving him an opening and an invitation.
Stuff his plan. It sucked. What did it matter whether they blew this joint now or in half an hour?
"Let's get out of here."
She nodded enthusiastically and matched his rapid strides toward the exit. He sent a quick text to her security detail, and by the time they made it out into the fresh air of the city, Fred Donaldson was standing next to a black car, holding the back door open. Bodyguards doubling up as drivers did have their uses when one was eager to get home.
"Thank you, Fred," Ryn said, smiling at him before getting in.
The car ride wouldn't take long, ten minutes, fifteen, depending on traffic. Perfect. Desmond knocked on the screen separating them from the driver’s seat.
"Fred, there's some private matters I'd like to discuss with Kathryn."
The mostly silent bald man nodded and pressed a button, presumably silencing the back seat.
"Let's talk now." Because when they got to his place, it'd be too late for reasonable discussion. He'd have her naked, panting, begging, and screaming, not chatting rationally.
"The Dom in me isn't something I can switch off." He considered. "It's not something I want to switch off."
Ryn rolled her eyes. "I didn't ask you to. It's sexy."
He insisted, "But I play at games that are beyond your understanding, now, before trying them. I need to know that you get the fact that at any time, you can make it stop, slow down, or pause."
Ryn nodded. "The safe words. Shire and Nazguls. Wait, that's slow and stop. We didn't cover pause."
He smiled, glad she was taking it seriously enough to bring it up herself. “No, we didn’t. What comes to mind?”
“How about Hobbits? They’re slow enough, and it goes with my theme.”
“Perfect. Safety issues more or less covered for now. There’s something more important I need to disclose. Irrelevant to tonight, perhaps, but consequential nonetheless.”
He had all of her attention; she was leaning in, hands folded on her lap and eyes focused on him. Desmond observed her closely, wanting to catch her every change of expression.
“I’m very fond of sharing my bed. Threesomes, foursomes, you name it. And I’m also pansexual, Ryn.”
She blinked and tilted her head, as if trying to work out what he’d said.
“You mean, like your friends, Tori and Bryant?”
He nodded, tense as fuck. She laughed and rolled her eyes.
“I kinda worked that out. I mean, you did mention you’d joined them, for one. And out of all floors in The Tower, you took me to an open orgy.”
He frowned, looking for censure and revulsion somewhere in her deep brown eyes.
“As for the pansexual thing…,” she bit her lip. “You have sex with guys, too?”
Another nod. As she remained silent, he prompted, “Well?”
She blinked. “Sorry, I got lost in thought imagining that. Can I watch? Pretty please?”
Holy fuck. She wasn’t running for the hills. She wasn’t asking Fred to turn around and take her to her place. She was a freaking unicorn.
“Of course you can watch. If we choose to enter an exclusive relationship, I’d only have sex with you in the room, Ryn.”
She grinned. “That feels a little too idealistic. The kind of sex-fest kids do in college, mixed up with a grown-up relationship. Does it really work?”
“It works for many of my acquaintances, yes. Not just the Parkers; Lillie and her husband have a similar dynamic. Many therapists swear that this type of relationship tends to strengthen the bonds between the partners. The concept of cheating is practically nonexistent in our circle, there's more honesty, more fun, things never become dull...."
She snorted. "You should write a pamphlet. But in all seriousness, I remember reading stats. There's a very low divorce rate for lifestyle couples, right?"
Divorce. The term made him pause because it was all too close to another word; one he'd never thought about associated with him. Marriage. And that word went with others, too. Family. Children. All the things he'd told himself he'd never have, because there was no woman alive who could take him as he was, with all his kinks. Except gold diggers, and he wasn't submitting himself to that.
Ryn represented all that and more. If she didn't freak out tonight, or the
day after, or the day after that, there was a chance that sometime, in the future, he might have everything with her. Picket fence and all.
"Desmond?" she called.
He'd zoned out, too taken with his fantasies. "Sorry, yes?"
"We're here."
The car had stopped in front of his building; Fred was holding Ryn's door open.
"Good."
34
Alive
If someone had asked her to guess what Desmond's bedroom was like, she might have said white and barren, like the rest of his apartment. It wasn't. Like the purple room, this one was fully decorated, and suited the man it belonged to so well. The walls were gray, the floor, marble, with a long plush runner rug leading to a large mahogany four-poster bed.
The posts were thick, heavy, and sturdy, and fitted with bolts, although there were no curtains. Ryn bit her lip. She definitely knew what those bolts were for. Other than that detail, the room was strangely inconspicuous, rather simple and welcoming, all things considered. The lighting was dim and intimate; there were various pillows on his dark blue sheets.
"You don't bring people here," she guessed.
He probably played the Dom at The Tower.
Desmond smirked. "What makes you think that?"
She shrugged. "The overall lack of torture devices, for one."
He took her hand and led her to his dark reddish wood chest of drawers.
"Open it."
She looked at him and then back to the piece of furniture, before pulling the first drawer open. She laughed. She should have seen it coming.
"So, no clothes?"
Seven different whips were neatly laid out. All were made of plaited leather, but they were quite different. Ryn pulled one out, touching the soft fabric.
"What's this one for?"
"They're all for the same thing, Ryn. Pain and pleasure. But this one is a signal whip. It doesn't have a fall." He pointed to the piece of leather attached to the end of another one. "This is a snake whip. See, there's a fall and a cracker attached to it."
He took his time explaining his various toys, one drawer at a time. It turned out there were also many paddles, and plenty of different bonds, too; leather, metal, rope and more. The last drawer did get an, "oh, my" from her.
There was an array of electronic devices in there. Some, she was familiar with; others looked like they'd been imported right out of an alien ship.
"What's this?"
"A TENS unit, for electric play. Sends a shock wave through your body. It can be fun, and it’s safe. I won't play with that tonight. Not writing this one off, though," he told her, pulling out a white device that looked like a massive dildo attached to a long cord. It had a huge, obnoxious head. "That's a wand. I don't know a person alive who doesn't love it."
She lifted a brow. "Where does it go?" The tip was definitely way too large to fit inside most orifices.
"Against your clit."
Oh, now they were talking.
"Choose one thing per drawer. Whatever you'd like to try. If nothing inspires you in one drawer, choose the least daunting option."
Ryn started by taking the wand out of his hand and placing it on top of the chest of drawers. She then opened each drawer again, starting with the second from the bottom and working her way up. Her assignment was easier than expected; she found something that piqued her curiosity in each one of them. A ball gag, a red rope, a short whip, a small butt plug. When she pulled out a bamboo paddle, Desmond shook his head. "No, not this one. It can be very painful. Glass, leather, or acrylic will work better tonight."
Just like that, she remembered why she trusted him to do this. He cared. Finally, she chose her whip and said, "All right. Ready."
"Yes, I believe you are. Come here."
Desmond took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, and led her to the center of the room, three or four feet away from his bed.
"The rules are simple. I'm going to give you orders, and you'll either get rewarded for following your instructions, or punished when you fail to do so."
She bobbed her head.
"None of that. You will remain still unless you're asked to move, and when you do answer, you will say things out loud. Understood?"
"Yes, Desmond."
"Good. Firstly, you will remember my safe word. I have one: the word red. I say it, the scene is over."
She started to nod, but caught herself mid-movement and stopped.
"You're learning. But you've earned one hit with the paddle either way. You'll keep count for me, won't you?"
"Yes, Desmond." She hesitated. "Do I call you Desmond?"
"You can call me whatever the hell you want, beautiful. Now, stay where you are and look ahead."
She heard him move behind her, and not turning her head killed her, but she obeyed nonetheless. A minute or two later, she heard his steps approaching her, and felt her entire body tense. What now?
She didn't know what to expect, a soft touch, a hit, but for a time, Desmond didn't touch her at all.
"You're quite the vision in this dress," he told her.
She smiled, all traces of self-consciousness about the green gown gone.
"It's just missing one thing."
Desmond fitted a blindfold over her eyes. Suddenly the world seemed to shift, becoming more intense. His every movement was loud; she could hear her breaths, as well as his. His hand came to rest on her shoulder and the simple, innocent touch made her feel ridiculously hot, as though he'd cupped her breast or something. Blinding her was making her other senses work overtime.
Something brushed along the slit of her leg, ever so light and soft as it ran from her ankle, past her knee, up to her inner thigh. She had to work on staying upright on her heels.
"What is that?" she asked.
"Add another hit for later."
Shit. She wasn't supposed to talk.
"And that’s a feather, Kathryn."
It couldn't be; it felt so very potent. She bit her tongue to prevent herself from speaking again, as Desmond ran the feather along her fingertips, then up her arm, her throat, her bottom lip. Then the feather was gone, and his mouth was on hers, soft at first, then demanding. She moaned into it, moved her hands up around his neck, and pressed her torso against his hard body. Holy fuck, she could feel his cock on her stomach, hard and throbbing.
Desmond stepped back. "Three swipes of the paddle. This is going to end up being a lot more intense than what I had planned tonight, if you don't learn to keep still, beautiful."
Shit.
"You have to trust that I'll tell you what I'm touching you with. Trust that I'll kiss you the way you want me to. And trust that I'll fuck you the way you crave to be fucked, too. I'm not one for instant gratification. Show a little patience."
Patience? When her body was on fire, demanding attention? She wasn't sure she'd be able to do it.
His hand brushed her hair out of the way, and he tied it up high on her head before touching both of her shoulders, sliding her sleeves along her arms.
"Reach out. I'm in front of you. Undo the buttons of my shirt."
She fumbled at first, but she did as she was told, taking her time to trace her hands along his defined abs. She pulled the shirt out of his pants to remove the last button. Part of her was dying to get to his belt next, but she'd learned her lesson. He gave. She didn't take. When she was done, he circled her and pulled the zipper of her dress down.
It fell to the floor. Ryn's arms went around her chest, covering her breasts. She hadn't been able to wear a bra under the dress.
"Another swipe, Kathryn. Don't forget to keep count."
Shit. She was at four.
"Feel free to keep your arms where they are if it makes you feel comfortable, however."
She managed to stop herself from nodding just in time.
"You're so very beautiful. I wish you could see yourself right now. Are those heels bothering you?"
"No, they're comfortable."
She
was wearing her go-to black Mary-Janes; perhaps not the best choice of footwear to go with the beautiful dress, but she didn't have that many pairs of shoes to choose from.
"Good. Step out of the fabric. Carefully. We wouldn't want to damage that pretty dress."
She did as she was told, lifting one leg, stepping forward, and then lifting the next one.
"Keep your legs apart."
Shit. Not a good idea. Her panties were absolutely soaked right now.
"I'm going need one of your hands now."
She uncrossed her right arm from her chest and lifted it. Desmond put something in her hand, something hard, thick, and silky. She was proud of herself for not asking what it was.
"Good girl. That's your wand. I want you to hold it right on your clit, and keep it there until I tell you to remove it."
She bit her lip, and fitted the object against her pussy. It was entirely immobile. Ryn was dying for friction, his deep voice and this unbearable teasing making her so very ready for more. She moved the head of the wand against her clit to enjoy the pressure.
"What a naughty girl you are. Another hit of the paddle for you. How many are you at?"
Ryn considered removing one or two, but she guessed he would have noticed.
"Five."
"Ah, yes. Don't worry, I'll collect soon. Now, beautiful, I want you to remember your orders. You will not move. You will not speak, or otherwise make a sound unless prompted. And most importantly, you will not come. If you do, I will end this scene early. Understood?"
"Yes," she said, somehow under the impression that the instructions would be relatively easy to follow.
She'd had a few issues with speaking and moving, but she wasn't one to come every time she had sex, and it took a fair bit of time for her to get into it, no matter what.
Then Desmond turned the power on.
"Holy fucking shit!" she yelled, her hand trembling at the effort it took to keep the infernal device between her legs. She unwrapped her second arm from her breast and used her left hand to help the right one. She was on her tiptoes, twitching and groaning.