Slave To Love

by Bridget Midway

  When she stepped into the kitchen, she spotted the pan she’d used to ward off any potential attacks from the mysterious stranger. If she had to knock him upside his head, she would have…eventually. Those large hands of his did have her wondering how they would feel on her body.

  Taren fanned her face as she moved around the large space. No man had ever made her temperature rise that fast. She heard a noise through the now empty family room. She looked through it and noticed through the wall-to-wall glass window that Jace swam laps in the pool.

  At first she only saw his long, muscular arms curving out of the water as he made his way from one side of the pool to the other. She marveled at the sight. With his hair all wet, it became darker than his normal blond hue. She imagined how good he must look with his hair transformed to a darker shade and his light-colored eyes.

  Taren padded to the open doorway that connected the kitchen to the family room. She leaned against the frame as she watched him. It didn’t take long for her nipples to harden as she viewed the display.

  Jace did a butterfly move where both arms projected from the water at the same time. When he turned around at the end of the pool, he changed his method and did a backstroke. Ripples of water cascaded off his body. Taren nibbled on her bottom lip as she stood on her tiptoes to see through the glass and view what kind of swim trunks he wore. She didn’t picture him as a Speedo kind of guy. Not that he didn’t have the body for it.

  When Jace reached the end of the pool again, he turned and ducked under the water. Taren crept through the empty room, over the hardwood floor, to get to the glass. She peered into the water, trying to see Jace again. Like a scene from a horror movie, he sprang up on the side of the pool directly in front of her.

  Taren gasped and took a couple of steps back as though the man could get to her through the glass. It didn’t matter. As soon as he appeared out of the water, he made immediate eye contact with her. Busted.

  He held his upper body up by straightening out his strong arms as he spat out the water that had gotten in his mouth. Had Taren been more focused on the entire scene and not just Jace’s location, she would have seen that his towel lay on that side of the pool.

  He hoisted himself out of the water and gave her another shock. Water sluiced down his completely nude body. Jesus H. Christ in the morning, he had a wonderful physique. His clothing yesterday hid a lot. Now she admired his wide chest with a few sprigs of hair. To see a true six-pack abdomen had her wanting to lick his core. When she got down to the package that lay between his rock-hard thighs, she wanted to go to church and praise God, and she hadn’t had that desire in a long time.

  Jace’s cock swung masterfully back and forth as he moved. It looked long and lean with a slight curve. Taren’s clit started to throb the longer she stared at him.

  Jace picked up his towel. Without apology or shame, he scrubbed it over his hair first before moving down his body. Once he dried off his legs and feet, he wrapped the towel around his waist while staring directly at Taren.

  The aggressive stance had her retreating back to the kitchen. He obviously didn’t want her ogling him like some animal in a zoo. She busied herself at the sink, cleaning up the last pan she’d left on the counter. Curiosity got the better of her. She peered over her shoulder and watched Jace walking back to the guesthouse.

  Taren exhaled. She had to make the best of this alone time with Jace. She glanced at the digital clock on the eight-burner gas stove. In a couple of hours, the crews would be arriving to set up more camera equipment and, hopefully, more furniture. She knew filming would be starting soon.

  To keep her mind off Jace and filming, she started cooking. At first she had planned on only making eggs and bacon. Ananda made sure to stock the refrigerator and pantry with items Taren wanted. Each time she recalled Jace coming out of the water and his fine body, she had the urge to make more food. An hour later, she had enough to feed an army. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, hash brown potatoes, even biscuits lined the breakfast bar.

  She heard keys knocking against the back door before she heard it open and saw Jace walking in wearing solid dark blue board shorts and a white T-shirt. He slipped his large feet into some well-worn flip flops. His hair had dried a little and had started to lighten.

  “Good morning.” Taren gave him a brief smile before turning her back on him and busying herself at the sink.

  “Expecting company?” Jace’s deep voice didn’t sound as gravelly as it did last night, but still had enough power to weaken her knees.

  “No. Not really.” She rinsed off a pan and picked up a towel to dry it. “I got caught up in cooking. Made more than what I would normally make. Please have some with me.” She put the pan away and turned to Jace.

  He glanced at the offering then brought his attention to her. “No, thank you.”

  Taren’s heartbeat slowed with his polite rejection. “So you have keys to the house?” She grabbed a plate for herself and started piling food on it.

  “Of course.”

  She nodded. “You never really said last night. What are you doing here? Are you a contestant? Are you with the crew?”

  He didn’t say anything. He headed to the pantry and scanned it before he released a curse.

  “What’s wrong?” Taren let her fork hover over her plate.

  “I don’t see oatmeal.” He tapped his finger against the pantry door.

  Taren dropped her fork and stood. “Really? I could have sworn I saw a container.”

  She ducked under Jace’s arm and stood in the middle of the small room that rivaled the size of her bathroom in her apartment. She scanned the shelves and leaned back to look at the top shelf. The back of her head bumped against Jace’s chest.

  “Sorry.” She spun around to face him.

  Even with the light on, his face held a dark shadow. It didn’t give him an ominous appearance like she thought it would. It made him look even sexier, especially with both hands now bracing against the doorframe. She realized then that he had her trapped in the pantry. He could have her among the spices and snacks.

  Taren swallowed and glanced behind herself again. “Um, up there.” She pointed up to the top shelf where it looked like she saw a cylindrical container. “I think it’s behind the grits.”

  Jace stared at Taren for a moment before strolling into the room. When he moved in the area, Taren took that moment to step back out. She stood in the spot he previously occupied and watched him moving items around the shelf.

  He held the container in front of her. “You were right. Thanks.” He started to move toward her, which made her back away and go to the counter again.

  “Now that I know you like oatmeal, I can have that made for you.” She took a bite of her eggs, then picked up a piece of bacon.

  “Why?”

  She slowed down her chewing as she watched him by the stove. “What?”

  “You don’t really know me. Why would you concern yourself about preparing my meals?” He pulled out a pot and filled it with water.

  “I don’t know. I like to cook. I took a lot of lessons and watched a ton of cooking shows. I don’t mind preparing food for people.” She scanned the area in front of her. “The crew should enjoy all this.”

  “You’re going to make someone a great submissive.” Jace shook some oats into the pot before he turned to her. “Don’t make the mistake of doing something because you think that’s what you should do in your role.”

  Taren crossed her legs as she sat on a barstool. “What do you mean?”

  Jace turned to her. “Don’t play a submissive. Be one.”

  She blinked at his candor. “I don’t think I’m playing a role.”

  He studied her for a moment before turning back to his food.

  “I haven’t been a submissive before so I wouldn’t know how to play being one.” She picked up her fork to start eating again, but suddenly lost her appetite.

  “Were you a Domme?” Jace asked as he stirred his oatmeal.

 
; “No.” She shook her head even though he had his back to her. “I’ve never been in the lifestyle. I’m new to all this.”

  Jace dropped his spoon into the pot and glared at her. “Let me get this straight. They’re having a woman who has never served anyone before be the person to decide who should be her Dom or Domme? How would you know what you want?”

  Taren blinked, not expecting to get questioned about her experience. She thought that if she made the show, her desire to be a part of this world would have been evident. Now she had to convince this stranger what she really wanted.

  “I knew this show would be a train wreck.” Jace shook his head. “I didn’t know how bad it would be until now.”

  She steeled her nerves to lay herself out on the line. “I want to learn. I want to be a part of this process because I think about it all the time. I would really appreciate it if you didn’t bring in your negativity. If you don’t believe in me, then maybe you should be the one to go.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jace nearly burned his oatmeal as he engaged in a heated exchange with Taren. He never expected her to bite back like she did. How dare she tell him to leave his house. Only she didn’t know he owned the home, and she really didn’t know how involved he’d been in the creation of the show or his past as a Dom.

  Hearing that she had no background in BDSM at all concerned him. Would she see spanking and whipping as abuse? Could she walk around a play party naked? Would she truly be willing to serve beyond a day or week or even a month?

  In his past, Jace had played with experienced subs and broken in new ones. Sometimes teaching new submissives about the lifestyle could be fun. Being away from the play for so long, he couldn’t imagine trying to bring someone into his way of life, or rather his old way of living.

  Taren’s wide-eyed innocence coupled with her fighting spirit made her intriguing. That didn’t mean she would do well on the show or as a submissive.

  “Do you know anything about BDSM?” Taren pivoted in her seat.

  Jace made the mistake of panning down her body first before he answered. Even at her petite frame, she exuded a womanly quality. She looked like long legs, long arms, and a sensational rack comprised her body.

  “I know enough to know that if you don’t approach it the right way, you could be eaten alive.” Deciding to give up on breakfast, he dumped his overcooked oatmeal into the disposal and ran the water until it all went down the drain. “I know that you need to be damn sure you want to be a submissive or slave to do it. If you’re unsure, it’ll break you.” He walked up to her. At his close proximity, he caught her musky scent. He’d almost expected to smell something flowery. Again, she surprised him. “I know that Doms and Dommes want someone willing to expose themselves, emotionally and physically. If you can’t do that, then you need to quit now.”

  When Taren remained quiet, Jace started to head toward the front door. He still needed food. At some point, he would need to get Taren away from the house so that he could get into his office for his files and work. If he wanted to, he could go up the back stairs to a door that connected his office to a balcony.

  “People are always expecting me to give up, to quit.”

  Jace stopped moving and turned back to her.

  Taren stood from the barstool and glared at him. “I’m not a quitter. If you’re looking to scare me, you’ve messed with the wrong woman. I’m going to do this show. Whether you’re a part of this or not, you’ll see the real me.”

  Jace almost wanted to tell her the truth, reveal his true identity. He didn’t know her that well. He didn’t need the constant questions or comparisons. For the first time in years, he did think about wanting to return to his old habits. His fingertips tingled as he imagined holding a braided handle of a flogger again. He’d gotten rid of all of those things. Hell, he didn’t even have condoms in his house anymore.

  “I’m not looking for a reaction.” Jace hadn’t. Seeing Taren looking both defiant yet afraid made his pulse drum. “You do what you need to do.” Without saying another word, he walked out of the house.

  He needed food. He needed to get some work done. He needed to purge the memory of Taren looking down at his cock earlier when he’d taken his swim. Although he hated the idea of leaving his home, he couldn’t imagine staying in the same place as Taren. He wanted to shake some sense into her and kiss her all at the same time. In the back of his mind, he also imagined the spitfire strung up on a St. Andrew’s cross.

  He needed to stay away from her or get himself in trouble. He’d already set her up to fail by imploring Vern to get the hardest Doms and Dommes out there. He’d be interested in seeing how filming would go if Taren made it through the first show.

  ****

  Jace. Jace. What the hell was his last name? It didn’t matter. Taren had a feeling she wouldn’t like him. He didn’t know her and he already assumed she couldn’t do something, that she would fail as a submissive. She hadn’t even tried it yet.

  He’d left the house and thirty minutes later the crew showed up. They set up more cameras around the place, in between eating the food she’d prepared earlier. To stay out of their way, she ducked into her new bedroom.

  She opened the windows to bring in needed light. The place reminded her of a coffin. Taren heard a knock on her open door. Royce, the set designer, stood in the doorway. The tall yet thin man smiled a lot, which showed off his deep dimples and gleaming white teeth. He kept his dark hair in a short ’do.

  “Hey, sweetie.” He entered the bedroom without invitation. “We’re done decorating the bedrooms and the family room, which I guess now will be the playroom.” He winked.

  Taren didn’t know what he meant, but figured she would soon.

  “The camera guys should be finishing up in a few hours.” He glanced around the bedroom. “Do you like it in here?”

  “You mean in this house? Yes, it’s incredible. I walk around in it and feel like it can go on forever.” She wrapped her arms around her body as she strolled up to Royce.

  “I get that. The place does look like some sheik’s summer home. But I’m talking about this room.” He scanned the room again and grimaced. “It’s so sad and dour. I don’t get that vibe from you.”

  Although she’d only talked to Royce that week since being at the house, she liked him. He could be so warm and welcoming and yet so biting and mean, but never to her. With her, he’d always been kind.

  “It is a sad and depressing room. Whoever lives here must be a depressed person.” Taren shook her head.

  Royce wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I have some extra items in my truck. I could do a little something-something to this room if you want. Then when the show is over, we can turn it back to the Crypt Keeper’s private lair. What do you think?”

  Taren smiled. “What do you have?”

  Royce pulled her toward the door. “Come along, dear. Let’s do some shopping.”

  When they hit the doorway, they met up with Jace. He still looked as stern as he did that morning when he’d left. He peered over their heads into the room before staring down at them.

  “What’s going on?” Jace asked.

  “Girl stuff.” Royce lovingly tilted his head toward Taren. “You wouldn’t be interested. Or would you?”

  Taren chuckled at Royce’s attempt to hit on Jace. She did wonder how he would react. Was he gay or did he swing both ways? Hell, for that matter, did the man even have a girlfriend? She didn’t notice a ring on his finger, but that didn’t mean anything nowadays.

  Jace took a step back to allow them to pass. “Let me not hold you two up.”

  “Your loss.” Royce pulled Taren alongside him as he went to the front door where he had a long semi-truck parked in front of the house.

  He helped Taren into the back where a few household decorations remained. She walked toward the corner where rolls of rugs leaned against the wall. She put her hands on each one of them, and folded down a corner to look at the pattern. She stopped at
a cream-colored one with colored geometric shapes over it. She coasted her hand over it, allowing the soft fabric to tickle the palm of her hand.

  “You, my dear, have excellent taste.” Royce sidled up next to her. “It’s pretty and it’s expensive.” He leaned down and whispered the last part to her.

  “Oh, maybe I shouldn’t choose this one.” She let it go and started to look at the other rugs.

  “No, honey. You go for what speaks to you.” Royce hoisted the rug and carried it to the opening where he had his crew waiting for him. “Take this to the main bedroom.”

  “I thought we were done decorating that room.” One of his young crew members wiped his brow as he looked up at Royce.

  “Thank goodness you’re not paid to think but just lift heavy things and do as you’re told.” He pointed to rug. “Pick that up.” Then he pointed to the front door. “Move it.”

  The young man sighed. “Fine.” He picked up the rug and carried it in the house.

  “I was young once but not that young.” Royce shook his head. “What else?”

  “I really shouldn’t be doing this. Did Ananda say this was okay?” Taren crossed her arms to prevent herself from touching something else expensive that she would like.

  “Don’t worry about that. You’re going to be here for a while. You deserve to be happy. You are the center of attention. Pick what you like. Your boy Royce will make magic.” He beamed.

  She smiled. This would probably be the last time she could be selfish. She might as well enjoy it. “I wish we could paint the walls.”

  Royce exhaled. “I’m so glad you said that.” He went to the end of the truck and scanned his crew. “Hey! We’re not done.”

  His crew stopped moving around to give Royce their full attention.

  “We’re painting the main bedroom.” Royce seemed happier about his decision than his employees. He turned to Taren. “You may have to sleep in one of the other bedrooms tonight because of the paint fumes. But, by the time the show starts taping, you’ll have your peaceful oasis.”