by Skylar Kade
“That’s irrele—”
Kat shushed him. “Just answer the question, Gabriel.”
He thought of Hope, of how she’d been so beautiful with her skin flushed from lust and his spankings, how hard she used to come for him after a good flogging. “I love that I can control her reactions to bring her so much pleasure.”
“Voila. See, no selfishness there.”
He shook his head.”You don’t beat the people you love.”
“No, I am usually the one getting beaten.” When her joke fell flat, she sighed and sat him down on the step above his tray. “Gabriel, you have never been like this for all the years I have known you. Nor have I heard you mention the word ‘love’ in the same sentence with another person.”
He gaped at her. “I didn’t mean it like that…” His protestations lost momentum at her cynical look.
“Sure, and I am your silly American Easter Bunny. Deny it all you want, that is fine. You do not even need to admit it to yourself yet. But at some point, you must realize that to love someone like Hope, you shall need to provide for her. And that will mean giving her pain when she needs it.” Kat leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You are a good man, Gabriel. I just wish you saw what we all do. Enjoy your weekend, and I really hope I do not see you until you are ready to leave Sunday evening.” With a lecherous grin and a wave, she headed back down to the dining hall.
Maybe Kat had the right of it. She’d given him so much to think about, he hadn’t even gotten the chance to mention his reservations about Master Joseph. That would have to wait for later, he supposed. For now, he had a date with Hope—and his denial.
Chapter Nine
When Hope reentered Gabe’s suite, delicious breakfast smells welcomed her in. Gabe wrapped her in a hug and kissed her until her knees went weak. Why had she ever left? Racing overtime, her heart beat out a staccato rhythm, a steady reminder of how easily she’d fallen for him again. This time, she refused to leave without letting him know how she felt. But that could wait until later. They had a full weekend ahead. Longer if the snow didn’t melt soon.
Gabe drew her over to the table where her favorite breakfast was laid out on a clean, white tablecloth. A bouquet of calla lilies graced the center.
“Wow, you certainly know how to impress the ladies.”
He wrapped his arms around her and inched his fingers around her throat. The pressure made her dizzy with lust. “There’s only one woman I care about impressing.” He smacked her ass with a resounding crack. “And you forgot something.”
When her eyes stopped lolling around her head from the seductive bite of pain, she said, “Sorry…Sir.”
“Good girl.” Releasing her, he pulled out her chair and sat her down before she collapsed from lust-induced weak knee syndrome.
“Hungry?” She noted his plate looked identical to hers, except with double-sized portions.
His eyes bored into her, setting her nerves aflame and jolting arousal straight to her pussy. “Starved.”
She cut off a whimper, knowing he’d make her suffer through breakfast either way. Sinking under the tide of lust this early in the day would only make her arousal worse. “How convenient, Sir. We have everything you could want to eat right here.” She dared a look at him from under her lashes and his eyes had gone dark and hooded. She knew exactly what he wanted to eat.
Suppressing a shiver, she grabbed a bite of bacon and about died from the rich, salty flavor.
“I see you like your meat salty,” he said with a deadpan expression.
She burst out laughing. “You know it, Sir.”
He reached out for her hand and squeezed. “You’ll have to remind me later then.”
Their conversation slipped into more comfortable breakfast topics. Gabe told her about his new shop and asked about her interior design business. The relaxed atmosphere lulled her into a false sense of security, broken only when he took their empty plates into the kitchenette. Time for the day to really begin. She didn’t know what to expect, but that was half the fun.
“All right, baby.” He turned and leaned against the counter. “Come here.” He pointed to the floor by his feet.
She rose and met him by the counter, gave him a quick kiss and sank to the floor. The tile was cool under her knees as she rested her head against his thigh. Though she couldn’t maintain this position for long without a pillow, it was one of her favorites. She liked feeling small and delicate and cared for sometimes. Of late, she’d been on her own to no end. Relying on someone else for once was a welcome change. Her sigh of contentment ruffled the red strands of hair that partially obscured her vision.
She wrapped her arms around his knees and squeezed. He stroked her hair and she had to fight back tears. This kind of tenderness was so foreign to her. Even when they’d dated, she hadn’t really let him comfort her.
“What’s the plan for today, Sir?”
“You have your choice of staying here or taking over any open playroom downstairs. What we do once we’re there…well, you’ll just have to wait.” His voice went dark like chocolate at the end, piquing her arousal once more.
“I’d love to see another one of Ms. Lamont’s famous rooms.”
She looked up at him and was momentarily stunned by the deep brown of his eyes, by the expression he wore. It was the same look she imagined she had, but seeing it on him was something she’d not anticipated.
Did he even know it was there?
“All right, cara, downstairs it is.”
He reached down to help her up, pulling her into his embrace as soon as she stood. She loved that he was just a few inches taller than she, enough for his lips to rest against her forehead in a sweet kiss. The emotion clenching her heart overwhelmed her lust. She almost threw out those words, but bit her tongue.
“Before we go, we’ve got to get you ready.”
“Ready, Sir?”
“Yes. Yesterday, everyone still played vanilla. Today, game’s on. And if I recall, you can be quite the exhibitionist.” He pulled her against him, against the hard erection restrained only by his jeans. She wanted more. “Please tell me you still like it.”
“Ah yes, my stunning voyeur. You’re in luck, Sir. One exhibitionist, coming right up.” Wiggling her hand between them, she stroked the front of his pants. He hissed and pulled her closer.
“Bad girl,” he said, far from serious. “There’s time for that later. Plenty of time.” He pushed her back a step. Smart man—distance was the only thing that would keep her hands to herself. “For now, we need you all gussied up. Did you happen to bring anything festive?”
She batted her lashes. “What, little ol’ me, bring naughty clothes?” She paused and watched his eyes heat. “Of course I did, Sir.” She liked to prepare for every eventuality.
He pulled her back to him and devoured her mouth. Dizziness and lust twined through her at his possessive touch. Damn, that always undid her. When he ended the kiss, his arms were the only reason she didn’t collapse into a puddle of happy, lusty goo.
“I even brought them over with me,” she said.
“Well, hot damn. Time for a fashion show.” He scooped her up and walked over to the living room where he dropped onto the couch with her still in his arms. “Hop to it, baby.”
She rose and snagged her tote from by the door before returning. Once the tote was unzipped, she pulled out a stack of precisely folded garters, bras stacked together, folded and ironed panties, and thigh-highs in small plastic boxes. Gabe quirked an eyebrow at her as she laid each set on the table. “What?”
He smiled. “Nothing, Ms. Anal Retentive. And you know whatever outfit I choose will get mussed up, right?”
Tingles suffused her pussy. She loved when he mussed her up. “Oh yeah, Sir.”
She shed her clothes and donned the first of her outfits, thoroughly enjoying whenever Gabe had to adjust his pants. She did a little catwalk strut from the front door to the living room before trading for the second outfit, revel
ing in the heat of his expression.
When she was halfway to the front door, Gabe said, “Screw the rest. You look damn sexy in all of them—let’s go.”
Luckily, she wore her favorite violet corset, matching lace panties, and sheer black thigh-highs. She headed the rest of the way to the door, her stilettos clacking against the wooden floor.
“Stop,” he said when she was almost there. He came up behind her, bent her against the door, and smacked her ass. The crack echoed through the room and tingled all her naughty bits. “That’s all.” Laughter tinged his voice, and when she turned around to glare, he said, “I couldn’t help myself. You know I’m a little angel.”
She burst out laughing. “Sir, you’re about as far from ‘angel’ as one man can get.”
“Well shit, you’ve figured me out.”
He chuckled along with her, and holy hell was that ever a sight to behold. His eyes lit up and the serious lines of his face softened. And his mouth…wow. Lips begging to be kissed spread to reveal white teeth. Her nipples tightened, recalling the imprint of those teeth on her breasts. He was gorgeous to begin with, but caught in the throes of laughter, he stole her sanity.
Gabe grabbed a long bag from the entryway and opened the door. Taking her hand, he led them downstairs, into what she hoped would be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
Brunch had taken his mind off the nightmare and he was tempted to laugh at how ridiculously he’d acted earlier. Years ago, Gabe decided to never let his father interfere with his life—kinky or otherwise. Good thing too, because Hope looked so good that not playing with her would be a crime. And he prided himself on being a law-abiding citizen.
“Hope,” he said, hitting the second flight of stairs downward, “how do you feel about role-playing games?” He envisioned her in a hot cop uniform, bending her authority only to him. The blood rushing to his cock almost made him lightheaded.
She paused on the step above him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That sounds…intriguing. What do you have in mind?”
Dear Lord, his thoughts went flying and a Cheshire grin crept across his face. “Anything you want, baby. The only catch is that you’ll have to come over some time to do it.”
His mind stuttered. While he was enjoying their weekend, that’s all Hope had promised. He needed to steel himself for the pain of her leaving Sunday. So why had his mouth gone off like that?
Her eyes opened wide and wary. “Well…”
“No, baby, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Yes. That sounds just perfect.” She took his mouth in a searing kiss, putting him even more off balance.
“Perfect,” he said, trying to think beyond her dressed up and at his mercy. He’d always been a fan of mixing things up with the occasional role-playing scene. But there would be time enough for that later. Now he had a sub to arouse and keep on edge until he lost his control and fucked her six ways to Sunday.
He’d like to fuck her more than six ways before tomorrow, actually.
Gabe had expected the private rooms would be in short supply in the afternoon, but three still didn’t have Do Not Disturb signs on the doors.
“Okay, baby, we’ve got the Victorian room from yesterday, the mirror room,” her face twisted in distaste at that one, “and the minimalist room.” Kat really needed better names for this shit. Maybe that’s something she’d let Hope take care of. Hope would rock something like that, he just knew.
“Can I see the last one?” she asked, looking far too sexy in her corset for his own good. He’d be lucky to think straight with half the blood gone from his brain.
Walking to the third door on the left, he knocked—just in case someone had forgotten the sign—and opened the door when only silence greeted his knock.
Hope had no idea how minimalism and BDSM would intersect, but she’d soon find out. A quick flip of the light switch and the recessed track lighting on the ceiling came to life. The walls stared back, empty and plain, painted a basic white. She mentally shook her head—a nice pale butter-cream would warm the room while still keeping the walls simple.
In the back right corner sat a pile of floor pillows in pale greens and blues on top of a queen-sized mattress in matching blue sheets. The mattress was thick enough to comfortably cushion whoever wanted to sit but thin enough that it didn’t distract the eye. She’d add some color there, brighter sheets and coordinating pillow cases. Storage benches sat in the near right corner. Their beech wood finish provided some warmth to the room, but their top cushions were still plain white. Minimalism didn’t need to be boring, contrary to popular belief.
But all of it was overwhelmed by the less-than-minimalist St. Andrew’s Cross almost flush against the left wall. Standing what must have been seven feet high, its four arms were painted an ominous black. She’d never personally used the x-shaped device, but it had always held some appeal. She’d be bound to it, helpless—her only task would be to sink into the sensation. And, conveniently, she happened to be quite good at that. A smile crept across her lips.
“You like?”
“Oh yes, definitely, Sir,” she purred.
Her mind was already halfway to la-la land. With a cross like that, Gabe would have access to her breasts, her pussy and her whole back. Her entire front too, if that’s how he bound her. The possibilities dizzied her.
He went to close and lock the door, flipping the Do Not Disturb sign in the process. A toggle of the light switch and the brightness dimmed, still illuminating but not blinding.
“On your knees,” he threw over his shoulder as he went to the corner benches. He lifted each of the three lids in turn, nodding before closing them.
“What’s in there, Sir?” she asked, kneeling on the thick carpet.
His boots swished against the carpet as he walked back, ending right in front of her knees. “Toys, restraints, protection and medical supplies. I brought my own, but it’s habit to check. Kat’s a stickler for those kinds of things. And having med supplies on hand during each scene is in the contract all the Doms need to sign before coming here.”
Her eyebrows arched. “You need to sign a contract?”
“Yep,” he said, stroking her hair. “It basically says we’ll be safe and responsible with our partners. And if you don’t follow it, she’s got grounds for revoking membership.”
She thought of Master Joseph. “Has it ever happened?” Wouldn’t that be nice, to have him publicly shamed like that?
He bent down to her eye level. “On occasion. Do you have more questions or can we get to the fun part now?” His smile was all lust, with heat in his eyes that could turn sand into glass.
“Fun, please, Sir.” Arousal swirled through her, tightening her nipples and dampening her thong.
“Good girl.”
He lifted her up and walked over to the cross, turning to beckon her with one finger. Her heels sank into the carpet as she scampered over. Great for kneeling, but she missed the click of heel on hard flooring.
He stroked a hand down her side. “God, you have the sexiest hips.” With his hand, Gabe pressed her against the cool wood of the cross, covering her body with his own. Heat poured off him, even through his black T-shirt and jeans, which did nothing to hide the thickness of his erection against the crease of her ass.
She whimpered. “Promise me you’ll fuck me again, Sir.”
His hips swiveled little circles against her before backing off. Cool air drifted across her back and between her legs, further sensitizing her flesh.
“Only if you’re a good girl,” he replied.
A trail of mirrors ringed the room at just the right height for Hope to see her and Gabe’s faces reflected. His lips curled into a bare hint of smile at the corners. Boy, was that sexy. Full mirrors would be too much of a distraction, but with this setup, she could lose herself in his eyes. And at that moment, such a reverie seemed preferable to the pain.
Yep, she was a goner.
“Don’t move an inch.”
/> She heard a zipper—too long to be his jeans, dammit—and rustling noises.
“Cara, do you want a blindfold?”
She’d always wanted one before, had wanted to block out any visual distractions, but now she wouldn’t give up one second of watching his eyes. “No, Sir.”
“All right.” The approval in his voice squeezed her chest.
“And,” she hesitated, knowing Gabe was different but still instinctively worried about his reaction, “can I have good, thorough aftercare?”
He stroked a hand down her back. “You didn’t like aftercare before.”
Was he going to deny her? She hung her head into the vee of the top arms of the cross. “No, you’re right, Sir.”
He smacked her ass and she jumped. “I wasn’t turning you down, Hope. Just remarking that this is new for you.”
“Oh.” She felt totally out of her element here. “Yeah.”
He crowded her. “Yeah?”
“Yes, Sir.” God, even saying the words made her skin prickle. And after one day back with the man.
What would it be like in a week, a year? Dangerous, delicious thoughts.
His body crowded hers once more. “You can have whatever aftercare you like, baby. I’ll hold you as long as you’ll let me.” His look pinned her in place. Forced her to really listen to his words.
Chills—the good kind—racked her body. Was it possible he wanted to keep her around after the weekend? He headed to the back of the room, leaving her to her thoughts.
When he returned, hands full, he buckled cuffs to her ankles before linking them to the eye hooks on the cross. He bracketed her wrists with his much bigger hands. “Would you like me to remove these cuffs, replace them with heavier-duty ones?”
“No!” The vehemence of her response shocked her. They were just stupid vanity cuffs, no good for true restraint. But she knew better than that. The cuffs marked her. She belonged to him as long as she wore them, and she’d be damned if she’d willingly take them off. That restrained her, in the best way, more than any true leather or metal binds could.