“Yes! A wonderful bag, leather so smooth... Most of mine have cute names. It's inexpensive compared to some of the other evening bags in that line, only about a grand.”
“A thousand dollars,” I repeated. Lanie could wait until Christmas for that present.
“Unless you're looking for something simple. Plain bags aren't nearly so much.”
“What's the difference between them?”
She stared at me. “It's a Lane bag. There's the 'L' on the side, with silver stitching instead of white. There's a mirror on the inside, a separate lipstick holder.”
“Oh, well of course. For the mirror, how could I not?”
“A little out of your price range?” She pretended to smile sympathetically.
“That exceeds my estimation, is all. Now I can get new shoes, upgrade my wardrobe some more. Quinn, you're going to be so excited.”
“Happy early birthday.” He smiled at me, then wider when he saw Cleo's eyes narrow enviously.
“It is this month,” I lied. It wasn't until June. “How convenient.”
“Isn't it.”
“When's yours again?”
“April 6th.”
“I won't forget this time, promise.”
Lane would have told me he was an Aries. It suited him, helping me remember. Things were winding down nicely. The waiters cleared our plates and I started counting minutes.
Quinn looked at me, the same way he had when we first met.' “Are you feeling okay, baby?”
“I'm a little light-headed. We had a lot of wine with dinner.”
“Oh, you can't leave yet,” Cleo reached for my arm. “I like you. You make me laugh.”
I grit my teeth, politely evading her grasp. “So glad to be amusing. You're both such, uh-”
“Stay for one more drink,” Tony said. “What's one more when we're taking cabs home, anyway?”
Quinn ordered whiskey while I stuck with water, the non-carbonated kind.
“So, how's business going?” Anthony asked rather quickly, relaxing back in his chair.
“Some days are good, some days better.” Quinn shrugged and looked disinterested. “The bad ones, I don't think about.”
“More good than bad?”
“Who can tell anymore? It'll be a new quarter soon enough.”
“Your clients seem to appreciate what you do. That was a clear, rounded glass of wine.”
“Yes, what a wine list,” I added, smiling at Quinn. “The food was just as incredible.”
“I'm glad you were free. I thought you'd like it.”
“You were right.” I saw Anthony's entire expression change. Huh. That had touched a nerve.
And Quinn had noticed. He hid his smile. “Unfortunately, I am driving. We should really be going before I can't.”
“I'm in no condition,” I stood with him. “I'd hate to take a cab and leave your car here.”
Cleo gave me the socialite's version of a hug. “We should definitely meet up and do this again.”
“Soon as there's time,” I nodded. “Have your husband talk to Quinn. I'm sure they can set something up.”
* * *
“That was the least painful dinner I've gone to with them,” Quinn said. His hand was on my thigh and I liked that it was.
“I'm glad, Sir.” I smiled, watching him smoke with his left hand.
“I can even say it was fun, aside from Tony offending you every time he spoke. I'm sorry from him, by the way. Alcohol makes him worse, not better.”
“They almost finished the bottle. Plus, they had two glasses of white. That was pretty impressive, actually.”
“You don't like it at all, do you?”
“Not really,” I admitted, “but I don't hate it. Tony snubbed you with the red. That was a real jerk thing to do.”
“The men that sent the wine are clients of mine. It was really... nice of you to drink it, to look like you liked it.”
“It was nice of them to send it.”
“They know Tony from way back. All of them think he's a prick.”
“That's not a bad evaluation. It's not the only reason they sent it over...”
“They appreciate what I've done for them.”
“So, I was wondering-” I immediately regretted asking as pride clawed long furrows throughout my chest. “Never mind. I drank too much.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing that's-” I made the mistake of looking at him. “How long have you and Cleo known one another?”
“We've never done anything together.” He looked vaguely disgusted. “She and Tony have an open relationship, but I've never taken advantage of that.”
“That explains a lot. Between her and Tony, I mean.”
“Cleo can't help herself. She likes businessmen with nice suits and ties to her husband. He benefits from that, I think. I don't have enough evidence to be sure. He's good with cover-ups.”
“Not good enough, apparently.”
“What did they do while I was gone? You looked strange when I got back.”
“Cleo should be a reporter, the way she digs for answers. She wanted to know about how long I've known you, how we met, what I'm doing with you. Evading took some effort. I'm sure it showed, Sir.”
“I'm sorry about that. Tony's desperate for something to use Monday. I knew you could handle Tony or Cleo. I forget that, together, the two of them are a lot to, er, excuse.”
“Thank goodness for etiquette classes. I went on auto-pilot for most of tonight.”
“Etiquette--? Are you joking or being serious?”
“Both?” I sobered up a little more, realizing what I'd admitted.
“You took actual lessons?”
“For a little while, yes.”
He laughed quietly, surprised. “I've never known anyone whose taken etiquette lessons before.”
“Wine makes me chatty.” I fought the blush and won. “I only went to a few of them. If I knew they'd be so useful, I would have re-enrolled when I got back.”
“When?”
“I'd just turned fourteen. The classes were a present from a relative. It's a long story...”
“We've got the time.”
I held back my sigh. “My aunt was friends with two of the women who taught the classes. I went, mostly because it would have been rude not to. We learned about poise and posture, other things, but those are the classes I remember. They were almost fun.”
“You do have really good posture.” He grinned. “Most of the time.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Especially when you're- Is that strange? Relating s/m to-?”
“It's not strange. A lot of what I learned goes into my submissive behavior. Maybe that's why I liked taking them so much.”
“You didn't finish them?” Quinn asked. Then he understood. “Because you moved...”
“I could have re-enrolled when I got back. I chose not to. I, um, pursued other interests.”
“Wow. You went from--” he snorted, “to--” I saw him glance at my arms.
“I know.” I watched buildings fly by. “I branched pretty far away from etiquette classes.”
“That's not true.” The heat in his gaze made me feel strange. Happy. Incredibly submissive. “Do you need anything before I get you home?”
“No... Thank you, Sir.”
“You sure? I don't plan on leaving again until tomorrow night.”
“I'm sure, Sir.”
Desire burned when his fingers curled around my thigh. His car sped down the street, it's engine purring quietly. I leaned against his shoulder, happy that my head was already clearing.
It was a startling moment: Coming out of the kitchen, I saw Quinn sitting on the couch. He was almost done with his cigarette, leaning back with his legs comfortably spread. Something about the way he was sitting-? So masculine, yet relaxed. Submission hit and the energy took over. He looked really good. And it felt really good, kneeling next to him on the couch.
“Where'
s your collar?”
“The bedroom, Sir.” I replied.
“Let's go there. Kneel on the bed.”
The leather was smooth, encircling my neck. I forgot about Tony and Cleo, how awkward I had felt making conversation at dinner. I'd do it again if he wanted me to. Quinn held my wrists together behind my back. His pants were undone, but smooth when I rubbed my cheek against one of his thighs. I let myself drop a few inches forward and trusted him to keep me from falling. “I'm sorry, Sir?” I wondered why he had pulled away. He barely let me touch the tip with my tongue before I was kneeling straight again.
“Don't be.”
He raised my skirt and groaned, seeing my thong. It was pure black, the flower and leaf shapes connecting to form the fabric in front. It wrapped around my hips with delicate, silvery chains.
“Sexy, sexy submissive.” His fingers moved through the spaces between the designs as he pulled it down over my legs. “Lay on your stomach, baby.”
Quinn parted my legs a little, leaning over me from behind. My head tilted down when he framed my shoulders with his arms. I writhed my hips back into his, wanting more of his weight. Shivers ran through my skin when he kissed the right side of my neck. Soft pleasure took me under, his lips following the curve of my inner shoulder.
“I've wanted you all night...”
“Have you?”
I smiled, laughing when he bit the outside of my shoulder. “Yes, Sir. I really have.”
“How?”
“However you want me, Sir. I wasn't thinking about, 'how.'”
* * *
Vera called while we were getting lunch at a Chinese food place, but only to say that there was a marathon being held in New York. Traffic was impossible, and she gave up after not moving more than five blocks in half an hour. Neither of us minded very much.
We left the restaurant and dropped of the dry-cleaning, stopped at an office supplies store so he could stock up, and then a furniture store just because he wanted to look around. The pain and pleasure I'd taken while he drove from place to place, had been distracting enough. I didn't care that his windows were clear or that it was daytime, with his hand hidden under my skirt, though submission wavered when his fingers dipped under the top of my shirt. His eyes were warm with amusement when he moved his hand back under my skirt. As punishment, or maybe for fun, he had brought me to the edge twice without letting me come.
“I got you close, a few times in the car.”
“You did, Sir.” I shivered inside, remembering.
“Need to do anything before I tie you down?”
“I don't, Sir. ...yes, Sir. May I get my collar?”
“Yes. Then lay on your back with your head on the pillows. I'm going to have you there for a while.”
Quinn returned, standing in the doorway with a long-bladed knife. I closed my eyes and wrapped reality around me, but when I opened them, he was still there. It's hilt was black and silver with a grooved grip. He took his knives seriously, too.
“You're not afraid of me cutting you at all, are you.”
“Not at all, Sir,” I immediately melted into stillness.
“Do you know how sharp this is? Do. Not. Move.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He looked into my eyes and roughly pulled my head back. I stopped breathing with the knife's edge against my neck. It was cold and deceptively smooth, a metallic taste lingering on the back of my tongue. He dragged the sharp tip over my stomach, drawing a straight line toward the middle of my chest. I grit my teeth when he paused over my right nipple, but he continued down to my hip. My skin itched, the line filling in with pink. He laid the blade flat, pressed longwise against the right side of my ribs. Pressure made me breathe out slowly, my ribcage shrinking away. Subspace pulled me under when he pressed a little harder. I could feel that there was a patch of roughness about halfway down the edge, a notch closer toward the sharp point.
“You trust me a lot.”
I looked into his eyes, fear repressed by submission. When I couldn't breathe out anymore, I fell into subspace, waiting for the bright cut of pain. Quinn flipped it around so the edge wasn't resting against my skin anymore.
“You definitely liked it.” His warm laughter wrapped around me. I heard the knife fall heavily into a drawer. “You're so wet now...”
“Did that bother you, Sir?” I asked, the intense tension melting away as I leaned against him.
“It didn't, no.” He laid his hand flat against my cheek.
I had the strangest feeling that he wanted to slap me. If he did? Pride broke, strands of it snapping deep inside of me, but I wanted to know if I could take that kind of pain. The risk was that it would go further and become dangerous. He wouldn't, I trusted him enough to believe it.
“Do you want to--, Sir?” I hesitated, wondering if I had read him wrong.
“Do I want to what?”
“Smack me like that, Sir.”
His confusion was buried under an overwhelming wave of dominance. “Say it the right way.”
“Do you want to smack me across the face, Sir?”
“You don't like that.” I went warmer with submission when I saw how startled he looked. “Why do you ask?”
“I don't know, Sir.”
“Do you want me to hit you that way?”
“If it's something you like doing. I trust you to, Sir.”
“... You know I don't want to hit you hard.”
“That's what I'm hoping, Sir.”
“You laugh because you think it's funny?” He grabbed my neck and kept my head raised.
“I'm sorry, Sir! Not because it's funny, but-”
“What?” His voice was sharper than the knife had been.
The jolt of fear I felt was immediately buried under submission. I saw his hand raise, but his fingers stroked the side of my cheek instead of hitting me.
“You didn't flinch away. I'm impressed.”
Only when I relaxed did he lightly slap the side of my face, not moving his hand from where he hit me. The tingling sensation wasn't unpleasant. He did it again, harder, while still not hurting me. It hadn't hurt at all? How--? Most of the fear I felt was banished. I moved past the rest when he kissed my cheek.
“How do you feel?”
“Good, if it pleased you, Sir?”
“How many times have I almost made you come today?”
“I didn't count...” I winced, guessing frantically. “At least four times. Five? I'm sorry, Sir.”
I saw him settle into Punishment-mode. But then it went away? “You'll know next time.”
“Thank you, Sir.” I understood, smiling at him after he kissed my cheek again.
“You don't have to be home until later, later this evening, right?”
“However late you want me to stay, Sir.”
“I want to set plans with you for this week, sometime, but I'm not sure what's going to happen tomorrow, at the meeting.”
“Do you feel prepared for it?”
“I've only got an hour or so of work left to do. After that, I'll be ready.”
“If you want help--” I shook my head, knowing he wouldn't. “Let me know how it goes?”
“I'll let you know, and I'll call you tomorrow night with an update.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“About before,”Quinn moved so he could see me better. “Why did you ask if I wanted to smack you?”
“Because I felt that you wanted to. I wanted to see if I could submit to it for you, Sir.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“You didn't have it hurt me at all. That was nice of you.”
His eyebrow rose. “You think the way I smacked you across the face was nice?”
“It was. Thank you, Sir.”
“By now, you know I'm not mad when I punish you. Don't you?”
“Yes. I know that.”
“I will never hit you like that with any kind of anger.”
“I trust you not to. Which is why, um... I think I can be okay
if it hurts. A little. It's something you really like doing, isn't it?”
“It was.”
“Oh.” I felt my submissive side burn with determination, ready to be better at taking it for him. “It's not a limit for us anymore if you don't want it to be, Sir. I'll learn how to-”
“That's not what I meant.” He groaned roughly, his hand going to the back of my neck. “You make me want you...”
- Chapter 18 -
~ Chokehold ~
I appreciated his call Monday, to know that his meeting had gone well.
What had happened?
A week passed without seeing him. Then another. When we talked, it felt different to me. The warmth in his voice was still there, yet there was something else... something that made me worry for him without knowing why. The days flew by, the nights slowly ticked away, but every Sunday, I found myself thinking, 'It's already been a week?'
We set plans for that weekend, but he had to be in New York for business instead. After that, time blurred.
With the pressure I remembered him subduing, my submissive side resisted adding to it. The distance that was growing between us made me worry, though more for him than for whatever we had started. That was the part I found most confusing. All of the scenarios I started envisioning ended with me being released as his submissive. I ached to feel Quinn's hand closing over my neck, trapping the air in my lungs. Sanity would be welcome. There was nothing that brought clarity like skirting unconsciousness.
Lane walked past my bedroom, then backtracked when she saw me. I had been struggling not to rest my forehead down against the desk. That would be admitting defeat, something I wasn't ready to do yet.
“Long week?” she asked, standing behind me to rub my shoulders.
“A long couple of weeks. I'm okay. What's up?”
“Grant's coming by next weekend. Is that cool?”
“Of course. You know I've been wanting to meet him.”
“How's Quinn doing?”
“Well, I think.” Worry broke free before I could rein it back. “He's been abnormally busy lately.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm just worried about him.”
“I'm worried for you.” She massaged my shoulders more slowly. “It's almost been, er- It seems like it's been a while since you two met up. Nothing happened-?”
Subfrenzy (the Subfrenzied Series) Page 20