Touch: The Complete Series

by Cara Dee

  He lifts a brow.

  "Cancer when I was fourteen," I explain. "When I messed up, she disciplined me. Sometimes with a ruler, sometimes with a time-out—like I was some kindergartener. I hated it of course, and I'm hardly an advocate for that kind of punishment on children today, but… It wasn’t the punishment. It was how swiftly the bad was over. I fucked up, I got the ruler, she forgave me, hugged me, and that was that." I take a breath and stare at my feet. "I never had to fear that she'd leave me. She doled out her chastisement and enforced a shitload of rules, but she cared. She had my best interests at heart, and I miss that structure." I lift my gaze again and meet Master Rio's expression of understanding. "She was my rock until she passed. After that, I lost it. I quit on life. I drank, did drugs, pushed away the few who tried to help me, fucked to pay rent" —I ignore the way his jaw clenches— "stole to buy food and clothes…" I trail off with a pointed look.

  He scrubs his hands down his face. "I haven't figured out how so many can know about Miranda, but no wonder you reacted the way you did." He sighs and lets his hands fall again. "You were just a child," he says quietly. "I wish I could've made things better for you."

  He doesn’t get it.

  "You did, though." I poke his chest. "I'd been on the streets on and off for two years when you cornered me in that nightclub, Rio. Master, Sir, whatever-the-fuck." I wave a hand and pretend I don’t see his mouth twist into a little smirk. "I don’t care how outta line you might think you were when you told me about caning brats who don’t obey you. I don't care." I grit my teeth, so fucking frustrated. "You gotta understand what it did to me. You were just a meal ticket; I wanted a cab ride or food or a place to stay, and I was willing to spread my legs for it. Hell," I scoff as I think back, "you were hot as fuck. Spreading my legs would've been a bonus. But you didn’t react the way all other guys had done before you." I release a breath and try to calm down. "You were rock solid. You couldn’t be budged. You told me to take care of myself because there's only one of me." His eyes soften, and it causes the fight to drain out of me. "I remember every minute of that little encounter," I whisper. "Maybe it wasn’t very significant for you, but it fucking changed me. It woke me up."

  Rio pulls me close again and hugs me tightly. He takes a breath, and I can sense him wanting to say something, but I'm not done. I gotta get this out so I can move on.

  "Yes, what you said was the first I'd ever heard about BDSM," I mutter against his chest. "But that’s not why I looked into it. It wasn’t what you said. It was you—because of how you acted. Who you are." I tilt up my chin to look him in the eye. "I made every mistake in the book when I first got into the scene, but I knew I was on the right track. At first, it was just about structure. I wanted someone to rely on." But that was the kid in me who'd grown up in a shitty environment. Every child needs stability. "Then I learned more. I evolved and tried different things. I met new people and got lucky with a Dom who was willing to mentor me."

  I smooth out the frown creasing his brow.

  "This isn't some phase for me, Sir," I murmur. "Casual arrangements don’t satisfy me, either. My vanilla life, dreams, and goals aren't going anywhere, but when I submit, I do it fully—body, mind, soul. Even in my everyday life, I'd feel better with rules to follow and having a Master to please."

  The glimpse I got when I first met Rio a decade ago—of what my future could hold—has changed drastically with each thing I've learned. But the nature of it has remained, and after coming to California, I want it so much it hurts. Scening with him, hearing his friends speak about him, seeing his home, and the tidbits I've picked up over the years through Facebook have all contributed to a fairly clear picture of what kind of man Rio is.

  "I never stood a bloody chance against you." Rio closes his eyes and presses his lips to my forehead, lingering. "I knew it ten years ago; I know it now."

  "That’s…cryptic." I tug on his silvery gray tie, though I stay in his hold. I love being so close to him. Close enough to smell his aftershave, feel the softness of his black button-down, and hear the gentle rasp of his five-o'clock shadow against my skin whenever he kisses me.

  "I suppose it's my turn to be honest." He nuzzles my hairline and brushes his fingers along my collar. "Trust me when I say you're not the only one who recalls every minute—" He pauses and backs away, brows knit together. "What's this?" A finger ghosts over the bandage covering my ink.

  Oh, right. So much for not delaying that reveal, as Master Cooper had requested.

  Oops.

  "It's my SLRN," I answer honestly.

  At that, his eyebrows shoot up. "SLRN, as in…?"

  I nod him along. He knows the answer, and he's silly for hesitating.

  The hesitation in his eyes fades, thankfully, and it dawns on him. Hopefully he now understands that I'm goddamn serious when I say I know what I'm doing.

  "You have a slave registry number?" He still phrased it as a question, of course. Domly types, man. And because he might've grown cynical over the years, the doubt comes next. He narrows his eyes. "It's new."

  "The tattoo, yes." I don’t miss a beat. "But I registered four years ago. You can check the database if you want."

  "Jesus." He backs away and runs a hand through his hair, his slightly widened eyes finding me quickly. Yes, that’s right. I know what I want, mister.

  I place my hands on my hips. "When are you gonna stop looking for obstacles and reasons why we shouldn’t—" I haven't even finished the sentence before he closes the distance between us, cups my cheeks, and leans down to kiss me. Hard.

  I let out a muffled umph sound, and it takes a couple seconds for my brain to catch up. But once I do, I throw my arms around his neck and return the kiss with all the passion I can. I moan as he strokes my tongue with his, his fingers digging into my hips possessively.

  At the feel of his cock pressing against my lower abdomen, my knees get weak, and a dull throb of lust drops to the center of my body. Wetness dampens my pussy, and I instinctively wrap my legs around him and clench my thighs.

  He groans into my mouth and bunches up my dress. "Fuck, baby. Hold on to the rope."

  My breathing hitches. I comply. I release his broad shoulders and bring my hands high above my head, getting a good grip on the webbed rope behind me. Then I watch Rio retrieve his wallet from the inner pocket of his suit. God yes, please. Fuck me. He finds a condom, tosses his wallet on the chair in the corner, and inches away just enough to unbuckle his belt, then unzip his pants.

  I take the hint and loosen my legs around him, though I try to pull him close the second he's pushed his pants and boxer briefs down his hips. His clothes pool around his knees, already forgotten.

  My mouth waters at the sight of his long fingers rolling the rubber onto his thick erection.

  "I won't return you to Mark," he tells me, slipping a hand between my thighs. All I can muster is a whimper as he traces my wet slit. He slides two soaked fingers up to my clit, then down again until he circles my hole and slams them inside.

  "Fuck!" My head falls back against the rope. My body fucking trembles, and he's barely even begun. "Oh, God…"

  "'Oh, Master,'" he corrects. His teeth gnash together when he replaces his fingers with his cock, and I cry out in pleasure at the intrusion. He lets out a panted breath and stills. "I won't be able to fight this anymore." Don’t ask me why he posed it as a threat. "I'll take it all."

  "Good." I squirm and whimper, wanting more. "Please, Sir."

  He grinds deeper and grabs my jaw. "You don’t get it," he grits out. "I've always been an all-or-nothing kind of man, and I've settled for nothing for a long time. If we do this…" He screws his eyes shut, his lips ghosting over mine. "My feelings for you terrify me, Chelsea." I swallow a gasp as he opens his eyes again, and the emotion swimming there is overwhelming. I've never seen him both so exposed and so predatory. "I'll want you in my house several days a week as soon as your training begins." Now we're talking. Fuck, at last. And…he finally star
ts to move inside me. "There'll be contracts and protocols." Yes, yes, yes. "I'll never be completely vanilla. When I take you out for dinner, every decision is still mine. What you wear, what you eat. And my idea of romance is anticipating your needs, knowing your wishes, and choosing when to give it to you." Holy hell, his words seduce me as much as his body does. "You don’t know how much power you have over me already, little rebel—fuck. Or how many of my own rules I've broken." He groans and shoves his cock deep. I mewl and meet every thrust. "But I don’t have to worry about you trying to take charge, do I?" He finally understands.

  "Sweet Jesus—Master," I pant, flushed with arousal. "Of course you don't. My… My…" God, it's getting too difficult to speak. "My philosophy is—ungh—" I gasp as his pelvis rubs against my clit, and I can't help but close my eyes. "The sub's needs are as important as…as the Master's, but the Master's desires trump the sub's."

  "Perfect." He kisses me hungrily and moves faster, harder. "Consider yourself my sub-in-training, beautiful." Those words trigger an explosion of happiness and euphoria to wash over me. "I'll own every part of you. You'll be my property. Only mine."

  A needy whine slips through my lips as my orgasm threatens to set off, and my arms ache from holding myself up. "May I please come, Master?" A bead of sweat trickles down between my breasts, and my breathing goes from labored to barely there.

  "No." He grunts and cups my ass roughly, then slides one hand up my front and pushes down the sheer material of my slave dress. "I can't wait to mark these." Dipping down, he palms one of my tits and sucks the nipple into his mouth. I groan in response, feeling his teeth graze teasingly against my sensitive flesh. "Out of this world," he moans. "Imagine how they'll look with my come on them."

  I can't fucking take it. I'm right on the brink.

  "Whatever you want." I suck in a shaky breath. My lungs burn, needing more air. "Oh fuck—please, Master!" My pussy tightens around his slicked-up cock as he rams forward.

  No luck. He tortures me for half an eternity, alternating between quick, shallow thrusts and deep, I-can-soon-feel-you-in-my-throat ones. And what was once an ache in my arms and wrists from holding the rope so tightly is now a fiery throb that pulses and spreads down my neck and back.

  When my fingers slip and I nearly lose my grip, I hiss at the rope burn and grit my teeth together. I will not fail him, goddammit. But it's clear that two yoga classes a week will soon be three.

  "Good girl," he murmurs, outta breath. His eyes are warm with…approval? "You're not one to complain, are you?"

  "I wanna be the best I can be for you. Even if my arms die." I manage an impish grin, though it's cut off when he strokes my clit. Oh God, oh fuck. My entire being seizes up, and I scream internally in protest at my climax surging forward. Any second, any second—

  "Come." Rio—my owner—buries himself to the hilt and groans against my neck, and the last thing I'm aware of is his cock pulsing deep inside my pussy.

  The ecstasy tumbling through me numbs out any pain. I lose my senses and awareness. Spots appear behind my closed eyelids, and I hold my breath for as long as I can, wanting the bliss to go on forever.

  I don’t know for how long I space out. Sound by sound, feeling by feeling, I slowly regain consciousness. The delicious soreness between my thighs makes itself known. My arms aching when they're lowered. The music in the background. Screams of pleasure and pain around us.

  When I come to enough, I notice we're not even by the spider web anymore. Master's seated in the leather chair, and he's cradling me close to his body. Black shirt and dress pants back in place, but his suit jacket is around me instead.

  "My beautiful little rebel," he whispers against my temple.

  I sigh blissfully and cuddle closer, pressing my nose into the crook of his neck. Never before have I felt this safe.

  "Thank you for giving me a shot, Master." I nuzzle his jaw and press a soft kiss there.

  I feel him shaking his head. "Thank you for being brave when I wasn’t. We wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it weren't for your determination and faith in us. I've grown cynical enough over the years that I sometimes don’t see a good thing even if it smacks me upside the head. Especially when it's a bright, gorgeous young woman who has her entire life ahead of her."

  I smirk drowsily at the image of me smacking him anywhere—eeep!—and lift my head from his shoulder to look him in the eye. "I've lived enough to know I wanna do the rest of my living with a collar around my neck." I kiss him on the lips. Kissing his smile. "And I've experienced enough instability and loneliness to know I wanna achieve the rest of my goals while serving at my Master's feet." Then, to make it playful, I chuff him lightly on the chin and say, "We'll find our balance, champ."

  He gives me an incredulous look before barking out a laugh and squeezing me tightly.

  Chapter 12

  The outside world reminds us of its presence when Evangeline carefully peeks in and says, "Mr. Ford asked me to let you know it's almost time."

  Oh!

  I'd almost forgotten the birthday party Kayla and I planned for Rio.

  "We'll be there in five," I answer. "Thanks, hon."

  She grins and disappears again.

  Master lifts a brow, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. "I believe it's up to me where we'll be in five minutes."

  I lean forward and kiss his nose, just 'cause. "You can start bossing me around the second we get there, but you can't say no to this. You're the guest of honor, after all." With that, I hop off his lap, wince slightly at the soreness, and straighten my dress. "You wouldn’t wanna miss your own birthday party, would you? I made the cake myself." And I'm damn proud of it!

  "My birth—" He closes his mouth, and his initial confusion is wiped away with a soft smile. "You amaze me."

  It's my goal to keep doing that—and to keep that smile on his face.

  "Come on, Master. Your friends are waiting." I hold out a hand for him.

  *

  True to his nature, Master gives me his first instruction right before we enter the Chamber.

  "If I tap my thigh, it means I want you to kneel next to me. We'll work on poses later. You're free to speak, but keep in mind you have to ask me before you make any plans with your girlfriends."

  Easy enough. Though, the one I'm most anxious to talk to isn't a girlfriend. At this point, I'm really fucking worried about Dylan, and his face is the first one I seek out the moment we enter the dimly lit Chamber. But he's nowhere to be found. Mr. Ford, Mr. Kingsley, Master Hill, Master Cooper, Mistress Judy, Master Dante, their subs…Gabriella—I'll have to ask her.

  Seated with Mistress Judy's sub, Gabriella looks as happy as Mr. Kingsley does across the room—as in, not at-fucking-all.

  "Happy early birthday, Master Rio!" Kayla cries out, bouncing in her seat. It's followed by a wince, so I'm guessing Mr. Ford didn’t go easy on her butt earlier. "Daddy, can I go hug him?"

  Before friends swarm Master to congratulate him, I ask if I can go over to Gabriella and talk to her about Dylan. Master nods and tells me to hurry back.

  I leave his side the second before Kayla and Evangeline run up to hug him.

  I smile to myself, happier than ever. It's an amazing and close-knit community I've joined.

  Making my way over to Gabriella, who's now alone, I sit down next to her on a couch and peer out over the room and the people around us. I catch Master glancing around, taking in the balloons, the banner attached between the two brass poles in the middle of the floor, the garlands, the small bar that has replaced the wax play station, and I see the smile he directs at the floor before he shakes his head dazedly.

  Pleasure fills me.

  "Hey." I nudge Gabriella's shoulder with mine. "I know you and I haven't talked much, but are you okay?"

  She sends a polite smile my way and tucks a piece of her chin-length hair behind her ear. The shiny, dark hair looks like it's been straightened, not a strand out of place. "Perfect little girl" comes to mind
with her baby pink dress, light makeup, and huge rock on her ring finger. But for some reason, I think her green eyes should be filled with mischief. The faint freckles on her cheeks and nose should be displayed proudly—not hidden under foundation—to show she just might be the hottest mix between Italian and Irish.

  I wanna muss up her hair and remove the invisible corset that has her sitting stiff as a stick.

  "I'm fine, thank you." She flashes her pearly whites. "My Daddy wanted to be here to celebrate Master Kelly, but he was held back at the office."

  Uh-huh. According to Dylan, that’s a common occurrence.

  "All right, sweets." I drape an arm around her shoulders and lean in a little closer. "We're still strangers, so I get the polite nonsense. But whenever you wanna cut the shit and talk about your Daddy Dom, or, you know, maybe Dylan and Mr. Kingsley, I'm here for you. Deal?" I stick out my hand for her.

  Her eyes widen comically, her gaze flicking between my face and my hand. Then she composes herself, but not before I see a glimpse of hesitation and curiosity.

  When she averts her eyes, I follow to where she's looking, and what a surprise, Mr. Kingsley's watching us with a small frown.

  "Deal." Gabriella shakes my hand quickly and exhales shakily.

  Maybe she will, maybe she won't. She's back to her schooled self, so she might be humoring the sub she only recently met.

  "I didn’t mean to get pushy," I feel the need to add. "I came over to ask about Dylan, but I saw you lookin' sad, so…"

  Another smile, this one more forced. Pained. "It's okay, Chelsea. Thank you for your concern." Man, she's formal. "As for Dylan…" There's that pain again. "He left for Texas this morning." That leaves me queasy in an instant. "He told me you two hung out after Master Kelly's party. He likes you." This time her smile is a bit more genuine.

  "You can't have too many friends," I respond. "I like him, too." Looking down at my lap, I frown and wonder if Kayla has his email or something. Wait. I've friended him on Switch's web forum. I'll try there.