“I’m taking you home tonight. If you come inside with me tonight, you will do everything I say.” He leveled his piercing gray gaze at her again. “Everything.”
She nodded. “I understand. I … “
How could she tell Parker that the deepest, most shameful part of her feared the choice? Didn’t want the chance to refuse. Wanted what it might mean to be deprived of it. She knew it was wrong, but the elemental being didn’t care. The instinctual, primitive spirit had its own agenda.
Excitement. Danger. Fear.
Alive.
She shook her head, and Parker took her hand again, his clutch gentle as silk. It amazed her, the subtleties he could convey with his touch.
“A choice, Ashley. Like coming to dinner tonight. I leave it up to you.”
He stood and buttoned the charcoal suit. She’d never seen him in anything so formal, but the impeccable fabric fit him as if he were born to it, the cut emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips.
“Ashley?” He held out his hand to her.
“What about my car? I’ll get towed.”
He winked. “I know the owner of this place. He won’t mind.”
***
Chapter Ten
Ashley’s hands shook as if she’d just polished off ten espressos. She sat on the bed, pressing her hands into her lap, willing them to still. She felt like a frightened animal, trapped in a spacious, beautiful cage — but a cage, nonetheless. A cage she’d willingly stepped into, allowing the gate to be locked behind her.
“Last chance, girl.”
She looked up to see him leaning against the doorjamb, hands in the pockets of his dark slacks, the suit coat open and the tie undone. His smile was easy … and deceiving. She could see the underlying tension in the set of his broad shoulders, the way his eyes never left her. He was as nervous as she was, she was sure of it. Somehow knowing that made her feel a little better, a little easier.
“Just like we talked about earlier. When you walked through that door, you agreed to do everything I say.”
His inscrutable gaze bored into hers, the tension in the room palpable. Both of them anticipated what she’d do next. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, what she should say. So she just went with instinct. What the fuck, right?
“I know.” She felt ashamed at the quaver in her voice. “I want to do this. I need to do this.”
“You have to trust me. That’s what this is all about. Can you, Ashley?”
Her heart was hammering in her chest. What was she so afraid of? Hadn’t this been at the crux of her little girl fantasies? The Lady surrendering to her knight? Letting him have his way with her?
Like Terry did? Whore.
It made her flinch, and Parker saw it. “What is it, Ashley?”
He stepped into the room, seating himself in the overstuffed chair in the corner. It was her favorite chair, a place she liked to curl up in and read a smutty novel or two. She had a considerably different feeling about that chair seeing Parker recline in it, at ease in its soft embrace.
“It’s just — you know what I said. I don’t know if I can do this, Parker. I’ve been hurt.”
Hurt. That was one way to say it. But he’d not just merely hurt her. Terry had betrayed her trust, the trust of a submissive putting herself in the hands of her dominant, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to unload her baggage onto Parker.
She needed this. Needed to see where it would go. If she could be who she’d always wanted to be. See if Terry had purged that will, that desire from her, completely. To find out if he’d extinguished that vital, fragile part of her soul.
Ashley hoped to hell not.
“I know you’ve been hurt, but who hasn’t been when it comes to love?” Then the timbre of his voice changed. “I’m not him, Ashley.”
She snapped her gaze up to his at the word “love.” There was an amused twinkle in his eye, the corners of his mouth turned up.
“I won’t hurt you though … not like him, anyway.” He rose, and walked slowly toward her, the picture of ease. “Stand up, Ashley.”
She trembled as he stood in front of her, inches away. They hadn’t been that close since that drunken, embarrassing night, and the electricity between them crackled. His size! He was so tall. She felt like a little girl next to him. But the thoughts she was having were decidedly not those of a little girl.
Not knowing what to do with her hands, she clasped them in front of her thighs, the fabric of her black dress wrinkling beneath her fingers. His cologne was faint, but powerful. So male. She wondered for the umpteenth time how they managed to find scents that spoke to the female so viscerally, so instinctively.
But she thought it probably wouldn’t matter what he wore, she’d still like it. Because he wore it.
Hang on Ash, this is just sex. Okay, maybe a little more than that …
“Give me your hands,” he said, his voice a whisper.
Warm hands closed over her cold ones, and she blushed at the trembling he could no doubt feel in hers.
His lips brushed her forehead, nuzzled her hair. “You never answered my question, Ashley.”
She tensed a moment, thinking she’d done something wrong. Why didn’t he just throw her down and fuck her? Take all choice away. It would be so much easier.
“I — I’m sorry?”
“Do you trust me?”
She took a deep breath, shaking a little as she exhaled. “Yes, Sir.”
“Mm, I like that.” He raised his chin, resting it atop her head, the stubble of his beard rustling her hair as he spoke. “Clasp your hands behind your back and keep them there until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Oh shit, here we go.
Parker walked around her, slowly, unhurried. The only sounds in the room were her breathing, and the creak of the floorboards beneath his feet. She cast her eyes downward. For some reason having him appraise her like this made it hard for her to look at him.
“Good girl,” he breathed.
Her fingers twisted together at the small of her back. Keeping them there of her own free will was harder than if she’d been bound. It was conscious choice. Keeping herself vulnerable.
“I want you to use those nervous fingers of yours and unbutton your dress.”
Her hands moved to the top button. She was strangely eager to have something to do with them. It was obvious he wasn’t going to let her touch him yet. She loved to use her hands, and keeping them idle was driving her crazy.
“Slowly. There’s only one first time watching you undress. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
He moved back to the corner, sitting in her reading chair again. He watched her, gaze intent, as she slipped each of the buttons of the slinky form-fitting dress. She remembered how the dress had fired Terry’s possessiveness and jealousy, because it accented her body so well — displayed it even, in an understated way. In Parker’s eyes, she saw only lust. Healthy, unadulterated lust.
She had no choice but to take it slow, so much did her fingers shake. Why was she so nervous? This was hardly the first guy she’d been with. He wasn’t the first capital “D” dominant she’d been with either.
Terry wasn’t a Dom, Ash. He was a sadistic prick.
Slipping the last button, the top of her dress fell open to the waist, the cool air of the room on her flat belly, whispering over the cleavage of her breasts.
“Hands behind your back again, girl.”
She wanted to protest. She wanted to run. She wanted him to fuck her. Maybe all three. But the waiting was killing her.
“Turn to face me now.”
Obeying, she snuck a glance up at him. He was leaning forward in the chair, his hands clasped across his muscular thighs. He grinned, that smile brightening the room.
“I think your eyes, as beautiful as they are, were just fine where they were. Keep them down.” It was the first mild reproach in his voice. It made her heart gallop.
Ashley tried to will her breathing to slow, her chest rising and falling rapidly under the heated weight of his gaze.
She thought he would tell her to slip the dress down her hips, maybe remove the bra next. But she found out for the first time, that he was far from predictable.
“Turn around, Ashley. No, keep your hands behind your back. That’s it.”
Turning until her back was fully to him, she wrung her hands behind her again. Her palms were starting to sweat, and her mouth was dry. It was somehow both easier and harder to turn her back to him. Easier, because she felt she had some shelter from that all seeing harsh gaze of his. Harder, because she knew where his attention would be focused next.
“Smooth that dress over your bottom, Ashley. Present it to me, properly. I want to get a good look at you.”
What?
This was something she hadn’t heard before.
She did as she was told, her touch making sure no wrinkles could be felt in the dark fabric, her hands flowing over her hips, easing down her buttocks the way she anticipated his would.
“Your clothes are never to be wrinkled. When I allow you to wear them, you’re to keep them neat and pressed. Do you understand?”
She nodded. It was the first of what she’d come to realize later would be many rules Parker determined she’d need to follow.
He was at her back, so fast she didn’t even realize he’d moved. The speed of him was unnerving, but quickly forgotten as she felt his breath on the nape of her neck. She’d put her hair up, hoping he’d enjoy the sight of her slender neck.
“I like your hair like this, Ashley.” His fingers stroked down the slim muscles at her nape, making her shiver, her nipples hardening to stones. “But you’re to keep it down until I tell you otherwise. I want this beautiful neck all to myself.”
She was shocked at how … particular, Parker was. Terry just wanted an available body to beat, open holes to fuck.
Parker was so different.
He’s different now, Ash. But Terry was different too — at the beginning. Don’t be fooled.
No.
She wasn’t going to let Terry’s memory ruin this. He’d fucked everything else up for her, fucked her up — literally. He wasn’t doing it again. Terry hadn’t broken her — she hoped.
Parker closed his hand around her neck from behind. His grip wasn’t harsh, but it was firm. Possessive.
“Now the dress, Ashley. Take it off and fold it neatly. Lay it on the bed.”
His hand didn’t leave her neck, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath her ear, as she slipped off the dress, and returned her hands to the small of her back.
“Good girl. Learning already.” He brushed his lips along the edge of her ear, his breath hot on her skin.
She gasped. Her ears were one of her weak spots. The touch of lips, tongue and teeth never failing to undo her. She could feel the slickness between her labia now, her arousal uncoiling in her belly.
His hand left her neck, drifting over the back of her bra, down to trace the taut muscles of her lower back, fingers sneaking under the edge of her panties.
“So soft,” he breathed.
She wanted his hands on her pussy, claiming her breasts, her ass. Everywhere. But still she waited.
“Take off that bra. Then turn around and hand it to me. I’ve been waiting to see your tits since the first moment I laid eyes on you. That dress is cruel.”
She smiled, even as she blushed. “You asked me to wear the dress, Parker.”
She’d worn that black dress to dinner, knowing the effect it had on men. Knowing it was one of the signs she was giving that she wanted more. She always felt good in it. Feminine. Powerful. Now it had taken on a new, more dangerous —and more exciting — significance.
Terry had forbidden her to wear it, jealous of how she looked. He called her a “tarted up little slut” once when she pushed the issue. She wanted to wear it for a Christmas party, and she was tired of him trying to keep such control of her. She thought he’d only let her out of the house in a burlap sack, if he could get away with it.
She trembled, knowing this was coming, yet still unnerved by the cool command in his voice. His reserve was so unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Terry was fury, barely leashed — and sometimes not leashed at all. While it shamed her to admit that sometimes the fury perversely excited her, most of the time it was simply frightening.
Parker’s manner was calm, almost icy — but it sure as hell didn’t frighten her. It fascinated her. But she also wondered what lurked below those still waters, if she decided to defy him. Maybe she’d have the courage to try it sometime. Now though, she just wanted to be fucked. Hard.
She guessed compliance was the surest road to that destination.
God, I hope so.
Ashley unclasped the bra, letting it slip down, as she held the cups to her breasts. She turned to him, the blush burning her cheeks, and pushed the bra into his outstretched hand.
She kept an arm crossed over her breasts, hoping he wouldn’t notice. A fool’s hope.
“Ashley.” He lowered his chin, eyes twinkling. “Drop your arm. Let me see them.”
Her hands fluttered at her sides as she obeyed. God, this was so hard.
She didn’t really like her breasts. Sure they were big, but she always thought they were too wobbly, too ungainly for her frame. Most of the men she’d been with seemed to disagree with her though.
Thankfully, Parker apparently liked what he saw.
“Get those hands behind your back.” His avid gaze didn’t leave her breasts. “You aren’t done stripping for me, so I can’t bind you yet. Be a good girl.”
She complied, ashamed at the way it thrust her breasts out further. She always marveled at the vulnerability of a woman’s breasts. So soft, so pliant. Sensitive flesh to be plundered by rough male hands, nipples to be pinched between calloused fingers. They bespoke yielding femininity to her, and she understood why they provoked the predator in men. She just sometimes wished hers could provoke a little bit less.
That was a lie though, because she loved it. Loved the attention. Loved being subject to, conquered by, the male animal.
Ashley sighed as his hands took her breasts, feeling their weight. Caressing, then kneading. Thumbs traced over the hard, rose nipples. The uncoiling in her belly came again, the pleasure of his touch arrowing down into her sex.
His touch was so much gentler than she’d imagined. Perhaps, she had just become so used to the callous pawing of her ex. Terry had only been concerned with availing himself of her bounteous charms. For his selfish pleasure only.
With the right Master that might even be okay.
Where the fuck did that come from, Ash?
“So beautiful,” Parker murmured, seemingly to himself. She looked down at his hands as they became more insistent, the gentleness replaced with a firmer grip as he explored her.
Ashley gasped as he squeezed her breasts, hard, letting her feel the strength in his hands. She bit back a cry; it felt so good to be touched again. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed it. Maybe it just meant more this time.
His fingers pinched her nipples, and she drew a breath in through her teeth. He looked up at her, his expression solemn.
“Quiet, Ashley.”
She nodded, taking a deep breath.
He continued pinching, harder, until she whined despite his admonitions. “These will need to be toughened up, girl. You feel like you’ve barely been handled.”
Parker finished with a deep pinch at the base of each nipple, almost at the areolas, the sharp pain making her yelp. The harshness of the pain reminded her too much of the callousness of Terry, her ex’s sadism frequently directed at her tender nipples. Yet her sex continued to betray, a spasm and more moisture slickening her further. Not everything Terry had done was bad — at least her body seemed to think so.
He looked up at her and grinned, then planted a gentle kiss on each abused nub. She couldn’t be
lieve how soft his lips felt.
No man that looks that good should have lips that feel like that. It’s not fair.
Laying a hand along her cheek, he raised her chin. “Ashley, you’re trembling. Relax.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just … since Terry.”
“Don’t think about him,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Let your mind go. This is just you and me. Two people.”
She looked down, blushing.
He raised her chin again, staring into her eyes. “Tell me.”
“Terry used to hurt me. Badly. I hated it, but … “
“Go on. You can tell me.”
Ashley sighed, a shiver passing down her body. This was so much harder than she thought it would be. She wasn’t used to having to talk about these things. It made her feel more vulnerable than even her nudity did.
“Some of what he did. I liked it.” She could feel the blush deepening. She had a hard time admitting it even to herself, but somehow unburdening herself of the truth of it, lifted a weight from her. Allowed her to breath a little easier.
Parker’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “I would think so, Ashley. Why else would you have stayed with him so long?”
Ashley shook her head against the gentle clasp of his fingers on her chin. “No, some of what he did. The pain.”
She saw Parker’s beautiful eyes go wide. Surprise? Disgust?
Casting her gaze downward, she felt a hot tear run down her cheek. His thumb eased it away, the tenderness of the gesture making more tears flow.
Parker hugged her then, and she clutched to him with a fervency, a desperation that shocked her. His embrace felt so good. So right.
“Ashley,” he whispered. “It’s okay. This is okay. You’re safe with me.”
She cried then. Hard, racking sobs that felt like poison being drawn from her body. He just held her, his lips against her hair, whispering, comforting. She didn’t want to be this weak, but she couldn’t help it. The fear, the shame, the betrayal she felt. It all came pouring out of her, scalding, cutting. She’d loved him once, deeply. She’d laid herself before him, figuratively and literally. And he’d crushed her. Violated her trust. It was even worse than the violations of her body. A woman seeks those connections of love, the vulnerability, the safety.
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