Bring On the Heat

by Eden Bradley

  It seemed Adam Dunne was loosening the tight hold she’d always kept over her emotions. Opening her up. Breaking her open. He frankly scared the hell out of her. But she would go back to him as soon as he wanted her.

  She wouldn’t miss it for all the world.

  She had to stop thinking about him.

  She threw back the covers and got up, took a quick shower before going into the kitchen to make a strong cup of coffee, which she drank at her kitchen table, staring out the small window, thinking about her night with Adam. Or, trying to. Her brain was still fuzzy. She felt more than she thought. Her body remembered sensations, sounds, scents. And most of all the heat of his hands on her body.

  Oh, yes…

  She sipped her coffee, her head lost in a sort of kinky dreamland. When she lifted the cup to her lips and found it empty she was surprised. Even more surprised to glance at the clock on her microwave and seeing she’d been sitting there for nearly an hour.

  When she returned to her bedroom she found she’d missed a call from Adam. Her heart began a steady, harsh beat as she dialed his number.

  “Hello, Skye.”

  “Adam…hi.”

  “What have you been doing?”

  “I was just drinking some coffee. I checked in with my cousin. And I took a shower. I was sore and I—”

  “Skye. That was not meant to be an interrogation. I just wanted to know how your day was going.”

  “Oh.”

  “So? How is your day going?”

  She bit her lip. “It’s…been fine. I’m a little tired. Spacey.”

  “And sore?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  She laughed. “You really are a sadist.”

  A small chuckle from him. “I’ve never claimed otherwise.”

  She could hear the humor in his voice. She liked it. Liked that he could be so serious with her when they were sceneing, and that he was beginning to relax with her now, too.

  “A long, hot shower is good for the soreness,” he told her. “You can use an ice pack if you need it.”

  “Do you expect I’ll ever need an ice pack?” she asked, flirting as much as she dared with him.

  His tone lowered. “I have specific plans that I hope will require an ice pack.”

  He was still joking—to some extent. But the words made her go soft and warm and needy all over.

  “I hope so, too.”

  Another chuckle from him. Then he asked, “Tell me, Skye, have you had any symptoms of sub drop? Any unreasonable fears? Fleeting depression, melancholy? Anything out of the ordinary that we should talk about?”

  “No, just that spaciness. No mood instability. I really do feel good.”

  “Excellent. If you do, you’re to call me right away. And this is not an arguable point. Now, tell me what your week will be like.”

  “I have two classes to teach, on Tuesday and Thursday.”

  “Ah, what’s your subject?”

  “The female artists of the Impressionist era.”

  “Mary Cassatt and Berthe Morisot?”

  “Yes, among others. You really do know your art. I saw…well, I sort of saw the works in your house. You have some incredible pieces.”

  “I’ve been collecting since I could afford to—a few years. Once I’d made enough money to buy my first house the art came next. Even before my first new car.”

  “I just realized I don’t even know what you do.”

  “I’m a stock trader. I’ve worked from home for almost ten years, built a good portfolio. Now I mostly have a manager look after my business, which leaves me free to travel when I want to. But I still have to get my hands in things once in a while, just for the challenge of it. I also got into real estate a few years ago, and I’ve done pretty well. I have a few apartment buildings here in the city and one house across the bridge in Marin. I’ve always figured I’d retire there eventually.”

  “That’s saying something in this economy. What else do you do, aside from working? And…the kind of things you do with me?”

  “I race my car—take it up to a track in Sonoma. It started as a defensive driving course a long time ago…”

  He trailed off and she waited for him to finish.

  “Adam?”

  “Yeah…I…also play some hockey. And I like to snowboard when I can get away.”

  “I’ve always wanted to learn how,” she told him. “I love the snow. I’ve rented a cabin up at Lake Tahoe with friends a few times. We’ve taken snowmobiles out, which I loved, but I’ve never gotten around to taking snowboard lessons. Maybe this winter. “

  “You should do it. You should try whatever it is you want to.”

  “Including kink?” she asked.

  “It seems to be working out well for you so far.”

  She had to smile. “It has. When do we do it again?”

  His tone shifted, low and sexy. “You’re eager.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good to know. I like to know your body will be ready for me when I tell you to come to me. I like to know there’s a little torture in you having to wait. And you’re going to wait until Friday night.”

  She wanted to groan but she held it in. “Friday. Alright.”

  “Are you as calm about that as you sound?” he asked. “Tell me the truth, Skye.”

  She let out a long breath. “Not even close.”

  He laughed. “Excellent. We’ll talk during the week. And Skye?”

  “Yes?”

  “No pleasuring yourself while you wait. You are to come only with me.”

  “Oh…”

  Her body heated to boiling the moment he said it to her. But an entire week feeling like this? She’d have to lock up her vibrators. And sleep in mittens.

  “Tell me you understand,” he prompted.

  She swallowed, hard. “I understand, Adam.”

  “Be at my house at nine. No, scratch that. Make it eight.”

  One hour earlier. It shouldn’t make her heart race with pleasure that he wanted to see her even that much sooner.

  Ridiculous.

  But it did. Her pulse was a hot, thready flurry in her veins, beating a steady cadence between her thighs.

  I am in big trouble.

  ~ * ~

  EIGHT

  She took the same route to Adam’s house she had the week before, taking a cab as Adam had ordered. The evening fog had rolled in early, and the air was cool and damp. Even now, at night, she could see the fog obscuring the stars and moon, could feel it all around her. She’d always love the faint tang of sea salt in the air in San Francisco. It soothed her raw nerves a bit. But only a bit tonight. Most of her was thrumming with anticipation like some drumbeat deep in her body, shimmering out to her limbs, through every nerve ending.

  The cab made a straight shot down the Church Street hill, then through the east end of Noe Valley. The city’s lovely Victorian structures flashed by outside the windows: store fronts, bars and restaurants. She was acutely aware of everything—the sensations in her own body, but also the city outside the dark, womblike confines of the cab. Neon signs, the glow of streetlights, the chugging buses, a group of people standing outside a bar. Color and sound and scent all around her.

  She realized then that she was worked up into an incredible state of hyper-awareness, a lovely, nearly painful awareness she’d never felt before.

  Almost there.

  Her fingers tapped the vinyl seat on either side of her thighs, which were pressed tightly together as she tried to suppress some of the tension between them. Tension that had built excruciatingly all week. If he hadn’t instructed her not to, she would have spent the entire week with her vibrators, getting off in her bed, in the shower, on the damn living room floor.

  But he had made her wait. And now she understood exactly why.

  Oh, he was cruel. But in the most wonderful way possible.

  She recognized his block as the cab slowed and pulled over. She recognized the feel
ing of being there, arriving at Adam’s home. But tonight she felt completely different. This time she had some idea of what might happen there. She knew the scent of him, the feel of his hands on her skin—the gentle touch of stroking fingertips, the rough touch of his spanking palm. She was soaking wet by the time she reached his door.

  She knew in making her wait to see him he’d wanted her to take some time to figure out if this was working for her. To be certain this was what she truly wanted.

  She’d never wanted anything so much in her life.

  She paid the driver, got out and went to the front door, knocked. Adam pulled the door open right away, as absurdly handsome as always. He was dressed all in black. The color of sin. He smiled at her, a wicked gleam in his deep blue eyes.

  “Welcome, Skye.”

  She paused, feeling uncertain, but he reached out and drew her through the door.

  “Why so quiet?” he asked, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

  “I…I think I’m sort of falling into subspace already. Is that normal?”

  “There’s no ‘normal’ or ‘abnormal’ in the BDSM realm. Everyone responds differently. But does it please me? Absolutely.” He stroked a finger over her jaw and she simmered at his touch. “So smile, beautiful girl.”

  She did, feeling as if she were lighting up from the inside. It was those words again. Beautiful girl. The way he said them. The way he looked at her. She could feel his pleasure with her, could feel his absolute command. And she’d just walked in the door. What else might happen there tonight? In his house…in his hands?

  She bit back a small moan as he slid her coat from her shoulders and hung it in the hall closet.

  He turned to her then, laying his hands on both of her shoulders, looking into her eyes. Searching them. His were that magnetic dusky blue. Intense, as always.

  “Tell me, Skye, how are you?”

  “I’m fine. Wonderful.”

  “Have you done some thinking? About what we’re doing? About being here with me? About your entry into this lifestyle?”

  “Yes, I’ve thought about it a lot. I’ve thought of almost nothing else, to be honest.”

  Except him.

  “And?” He gave her shoulders a small squeeze.

  “And this is exactly where I want to be. This is what I’ve needed. You were right and…I want the process. I know that now. You’ve helped me see it, helped me see…myself. I’m understanding things more and more—how it’s working for me. Maybe it sounds corny, but I see the beauty in it. Does that make sense?”

  “Absolutely. You have no idea how much that rings true for me.” He gave her shoulders another squeeze, his dark brows drawing together. “I know you’re going under already, Skye. But tell me truthfully. Would your answer would be the same if I asked you at any other moment?”

  “Yes. Of course. I couldn’t even say it now if it wasn’t the truth, I swear it.”

  He smiled, his grip on her shoulders relaxing. “Good. That’s good.”

  He slid his hands down, his eyes glittering in the soft lighting in the room, his mouth softening. He said quietly, “Tell me then, Skye, are you ready to begin our evening?”

  “Oh, I’m ready.” She let out a quiet sigh. “Please.”

  His smile widened. “Ah, you say that so nicely. It makes me want to do very bad things to you.”

  She smiled back, her mind sinking lower and lower into that floating place where everything was pure pleasure.

  “Did you dress as I told you to?”

  “Yes, Adam.”

  “Show me.”

  Her brows drew together, then she smiled, took a small step back. She unbuttoned her blouse, her liquid brown gaze on his as she slipped the white cotton from her shoulders, revealing the simple, white lace of her bra. The lush rise of her breasts spilled over the top edges, making him want to fill his hands with them. And he would, later.

  He gave a nod of his chin, and she unzipped her tight pencil skirt, let it slide down over her long legs until he could see the white lacy garter belt, the matching thong, the sheer white stockings contrasting with the high red heels she wore. She stepped out of the skirt, and he took it from her, tossed it onto a chair.

  “Perfect,” he murmured. “Turn around and brace your hands on the wall.

  She raised an eyebrow, then he saw the shift in her features—the loosening that signaled her yielding. She turned around.

  He came up behind her, traced a finger down her spine, felt her shiver. Beautiful, silky skin. He smoothed his palm around her waist, over her stomach, felt her pulling it tight, moved his had up higher, over her breast.

  She moaned quietly.

  “Do you like my touch, Skye?”

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  “Do you want more?”

  “Yes.”

  He cupped her full flesh through the lace of her bra, squeezed as she pressed into his palm.

  “What is it, Skye?”

  “Touch me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Like this?”

  He reached into her bra and tweaked her nipple hard.

  “Oh! Yes…”

  He moved in, then, yanked her body hard against his, her round buttocks against his growing erection. She surged back into him, and he let her for a moment before releasing her. She groaned.

  “Stay perfectly still. I’ll be right back.”

  He went to the leather case he’d left sitting next to the couch, pulled a few implements from it, chose one and set the rest on a side table.

  Reaching out to stroke the soft skin of her gorgeous ass, he pinched the flesh here and there. She squirmed, which made him smile. He slipped his hand up to her side, grabbing and pinching the skin hard enough to make her pant, to make her squirm harder. He knew it hurt. But she was bowing back into him, then pulling away, bowing back again, loving the pain, handling it in a way that told him she needed to feel it as much as he needed to give it to her.

  Yes, need to give her what she needs. Now.

  He paused.

  “Brace yourself again. And hold still, Skye.”

  She was out of her head—she knew it. Just handing herself over to him. She couldn’t help it. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

  She could sense him behind her, even though the lovely, hurting pinching had stopped. She pulled in a breath, exhaled, inhaled again. How long was he going to wait before he did something?

  Before the thought was even completed she felt a hard smack on her ass.

  “Oh!”

  It hurt. But the reverberations of pain trembling through her also held that lovely edge of pleasure. He did it again, and again she cried out—with the pain, with the surprise of it.

  “Adam…”

  He smoothed his fingers over the sore spots. It felt wonderful.

  “Is that a safe word, beautiful girl?”

  “No. I just…what is that?”

  “A leather strap.” He brought his arm over her shoulder and held the oblong piece of leather close to her face.

  “Breathe it in,” he told her.

  She did, inhaling the earthiness of the leather. And the scent—simply him—that made her tremble.

  His face was close to her ear. He said quietly. “This is what I’m using, Skye. But you won’t always be told. There is some mind-fuck in the shock of it. Sometimes it will be a toy. Sometimes it will just be my hands. And I can do plenty with my bare hands.”

  As if to prove himself, he buried his fingers in the back of her hair and pulled tight, tighter, drawing her head back. The sensation was…indescribable. It didn’t quite hurt. It was a statement. Of control. Of ownership.

  He pulled tighter. She let out a gasp.

  “I see you’re beginning to understand.”

  He let her hair go and she thought he’d take the strap to her again, but instead he grabbed onto the tender flesh at her side, taking a handful of her flesh, dug his fingers in hard, making it really hurt.

&
nbsp; “Oh…”

  She tried to pull away—purely on instinct—and heard his evil chuckle.

  “I love to see you dance like that for me. It’s beautiful.”

  He hung on and gave her a swat on her ass with the strap, making her rise up on her toes.

  “Oh!”

  He smacked her again, and again, each strike landing harder, leaving her panting and breathless and full of need. Her head swam.

  Suddenly he pulled her into his body again, and she sank into him, loving the feel of his strong arm around her waist. He lifted her hair with his free hand, kissing the back of her neck. She sighed.

  He bit into her flesh. She moaned.

  He bit again, kissed her sore skin as he pulled away.

  “Again,” he ordered, and she knew to brace her hands on the wall. She spread her feet apart to steady herself.

  “Ah, good girl.”

  He started in again with the strap, pausing now and then to stroke her burning flesh with his hand, giving her a chance to breathe, to absorb the pain. To ride it out. And her head was absolutely emptying out. She was nothing but this sensation, and the awareness of him—his scent, the heat of his body, the aura of his command. Nothing else mattered but the flood of sensations. That and the insistent ache between her thighs, like a pulse-beat of desire.

  “Adam, please,” she whispered, gasped.

  He hit her harder with the strap, and she loved it, needed it. Needed him to touch her even more.

  But the pain was rising, taking her to some foggy place where she floated. Her body relaxed all over, and she fell into his arms.

  “I’ve got you, baby.”

  He took her to the couch and laid her in his lap. Immediately he went to work with his hand between her thighs, pushing a few fingers into her, his thumb circling her clit.

  She was almost limp in his arms, unable to do anything but rock her hip into his hand as pleasure spiraled, crested, wound through her system like some lovely, sinuous force.

  “Come on, baby,” he urged. “Come for me.”

  She did, heat spreading, shimmering over her skin, deep into her belly, her sex, until she was shivering all over, then jerking hard as the full force of her orgasm hit her like a bomb of pleasure exploding deep within her.