by Jeffe Kennedy, Christine d’Abo, Elise Logan, Emily-Ryan Davis, Jodie Griffin
She picked up her fork and dug in.
He did the same, savoring every bite of the best stew he’d ever eaten. “What kind of bread is this? It’s delicious.”
“Challah. A traditional Jewish bread. I decided to see if I could make it in the bread machine. It’s usually braided so it doesn’t have the look, but it does have the flavor.”
“Good stuff.”
“Thanks. I also have matzoh bark for dessert.” He must’ve had a blank look on his face because she explained. “Matzoh is unleavened bread we eat at Passover. They taste like crackers. These are coated in butter and melted chocolate. It’s not really a Hanukkah thing, but I made some for school to give to my fellow teachers, and I had extra.”
His mouth watered. “Sounds bad for you, but tasty.”
“Pretty much.”
They ate in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, and then she set her fork across her bowl and rested her chin in her hand. “I’m ready for your explanation. What don’t I know about you?”
He hesitated with his fork halfway to his mouth, then finished the bite and swallowed, thinking of how best to explain this. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
She cocked her head to the side and just waited.
Yeah, he hadn’t thought she’d go for that. “My relationships are...different.”
She raised a brow but her gaze was level. “I’m a middle school teacher. I can outwait any stall tactic you can come up with.”
Her dry wit made him choke back a laugh he didn’t think she’d find funny right now, but damn, he loved a woman who could hold her own. “Alright then. I don’t do regular, vanilla sex. Well, I do on occasion, but I prefer down and dirty, no-holds-barred kinky sex. With me in charge. I like to use restraints, rope, blindfolds, spanking, flogging and caning on my partner. All of it is consensual, but that’s what I like.”
Her eyes widened, but it wasn’t with the dismay or disbelief he’d expected. Her cheeks darkened, and her nipples beaded under that tight green elf sweater she wore. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, but nothing came out. Finally, she waved a hand in front of her face. “I, uh...wow.”
He cocked his head. “This doesn’t shock you?”
She gave a half-laugh and continued to fan her face. He could practically see the wheels turning in her brain, could see her tying what had happened at his house to what he’d just told her. “Shock? Yes, it does. I never would’ve guessed that about you. But I don’t think that’s what you mean. You want to know if I’m turned off by it.”
She really didn’t pull her punches. “Yeah.”
“I can think of about twenty different synonyms for the adjective that best describes what I’m feeling, but not a single one is disgust.”
Synonyms? Adjectives? “You really are a teacher, aren’t you?”
She blinked. “You knew that.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know I’d be getting a grammar lesson, and on Christmas, to boot.”
“Smart ass.” She threw a hunk of bread at him and sighed dramatically, but then she stilled. “I don’t have any experience with anything like this.”
“I didn’t think you did. Involvement with women who don’t know my preferences and want the same things I do has never been on my radar. But, kitten, though I’ve been involved with you on some level for five years now, I never expected that involvement to turn into something where I’d have to explain them to you. I never expected you to be single.”
“I know what you mean. I was married to Sam for six years. I ignored my feelings because I took my wedding vows seriously,” she said softly, “but for much of it, I wanted a man I couldn’t have. In the beginning, it was easy to bury my feelings because I loved Sam. But then things changed and—”
His heart twisted as she pushed herself out of her chair and went to the sink, looking out the window into the night, giving him her back.
“Bec?” In the glass, he could see her reflection, could see the way she worried her lip and closed her eyes.
“Maybe we do need to talk about Sam. About my marriage.”
His blood started simmering. “I’ll rip his fucking head off.”
Her head dropped forward.
He pushed back from the table and came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, holding her tightly to him. He bent his head against hers. “Tell me.”
“Sam has very definite ideas about what it means to be a proper Jewish woman.”
The simmer turned to a boil. “Only the woman, right? The man can do whatever he wants?” When she nodded, he swore. “Fuck that. That has nothing to do with being Jewish or Christian or any other religion. Sam expected those things of you because he wanted to control you.”
Her body went tense, and her voice came out in a tortured whisper. “And you just told me you like to be in control.”
Shit. “There’s controlling someone because you’re a jackass, and then there’s being in control as the dominant partner in the bedroom.”
She tried to push away from him, but he wasn’t having any of that. He turned her so she faced him then braced his hands on either side of her body, along the sink’s edge. “Look at me, kitten.” He purposely used a Dom’s tone, injected that note of command that would either piss a non-kinky woman off or make a submissive woman wet.
She blinked and met his eyes, her pulse throbbing in her neck, her cheeks pink.
Yes. He felt like pumping his fist in victory. It was a small step, and maybe the only one she’d allow, but at least she hadn’t clocked him or kneed him in his balls. “The difference is consent. His type of control is about taking all your true choices away, making you feel less of a woman, less of a competent person. It’s a control that takes, it’s one-sided, and in many cases it’s abusive.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “The control I like is about giving you the chance to be the kind of woman you want to be with no boundaries except the ones you set. I can’t take that control from you, in my world. You have to choose to give it to me, and if you do, I promise I’ll treat it with care.”
Her body trembled, and he knew she’d reached her limit on the discussion. He wasn’t ready for their time to end, not now, and not like this. He hugged her then drew her back to the table, pulling her onto his lap.
“What are you doing?” she protested, trying to stand.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and held tight. “I want you right here while we finish eating. I need to hear the rest of what happened with Sam, but it’ll keep.” He reached across the table and grabbed her bowl of stew. “Right now, I want to enjoy your company and spend Christmas night with you, starting with this amazing dinner you made.”
He dipped the fork into her stew and held the bite up to her mouth. “Open for me, kitten.”
She rolled her eyes but opened her mouth. He fed her the bite, then took one of his own as he watched her chew and swallow. He dipped a piece of bread in the broth and held it up to her mouth, locking eyes with her.
In a perfect world, she’d be on his lap, naked but for the collar around her neck and the plug in her ass. But he’d take what he could get, considering he never imagined he’d have even this much with Rebeccah. Every minute was an unexpected gift.
He continued to feed her, ignoring his own meal, nuzzling her neck, stroking her back and touching her how he’d always wanted to while she ate, until her food was gone.
“Aren’t you eating?” she asked, shifting on his lap, bringing her hip into contact with his harder-than-stone erection.
“The stew was delicious.” He ran a fingertip along her jaw line. “But what I’m truly hungry for isn’t on the menu tonight.”
She watched him with those wide, solemn eyes of hers. “Are you so sure about that?”
Chapter Four
Hardest damn words she’d ever uttered, even harder than the words I want a divorce.
She wasn’t stupid. Even through her jeans she could feel his erection against her thigh. It had grown as he’d fed her each bite of food, as he’d tormented her with his incredibly gentle yet sensual touches.
The words had been hard to get out, but they hadn’t been spoken lightly. She knew what she was offering.
Me, on a silver platter.
His bold words about what he wanted in a woman hadn’t shocked her, they’d set her on fire. Some of them were scary. She’d never considered caning or flogging, but being tied up and blindfolded? Yes, please.
She wanted it, wanted to know what the fuss was about. One night when Sam had been in a good mood, she’d asked him what he’d thought about it. After all, they were married and it would be fun, right?
Wrong. He’d gone coldly furious.
“Easy, kitten.” Jeremy grabbed her wrist and held it fast, stroking his thumb over her thudding pulse.
She froze. “Oh, God,” she muttered, realizing she’d been furiously rubbing the cheek Sam had struck. It was obvious Jeremy understood the significance of it, and her stomach soured. “I’m sorry.”
“No reason to be, but I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I was teasing earlier. We have no schedule here, nothing that says we have to do anything more than have dinner and talk.”
“Let me up, please,” she muttered, and he released her immediately. She picked up his dishes and hers and rinsed them, then put them in the dishwasher. She put the leftover stew in the fridge, and then set the crock in the sink to soak. Through it all, Jeremy remained quiet, though she could feel him watching her. Finally, she turned to him and blurted out the words she’d been trying to get organized in her brain. “I don’t know if I’ll like the things you talk about, but I think I know what I want. I like the idea of them, but I don’t know about the reality. Does that make sense, or is it as confusing to you as it is to me?” When he didn’t respond, she dropped her face into her hands. “Gah. I sound like an idiot.”
He was on his feet in a flash. “You don’t. You sound like a woman who’s never been given the opportunity to try the different things that turn her on.” He pried her hands away from her face. “Am I right?”
She locked gazes with him and was stunned by the acceptance she saw. She nodded.
“His loss, and that’s all I’m saying on that subject for now. I’ll be honest with you, kitten. I’ve never been in a real relationship where the woman wasn’t already part of this lifestyle and aware of her own part in it. I’m not sure how this will work out for us. I don’t have a crystal ball and I don’t know all the answers. But I do know that for the last five years, no woman I’ve dated has been you. So if you want to take a chance with me, want to try out those things that turn you on, I’m not going to turn you down.”
Her throat constricted. This was what her husband should’ve given her, but hadn’t. It wasn’t her problem, and it never had been. She knew that now, after several sessions of talking with a therapist. It was his problem and, as Jeremy had said earlier, it was also his loss. “Thank you,” she whispered, forcing the words past her tight throat.
“I want you, kitten. It’s crazy how someone I’ve known for a grand total of ten work days could twist me up like this, turn me inside out.” He smiled sweetly, his eyes warm with the sincerity of his statement. “I want you, but I’ll take the gift of your company tonight. We can do whatever you want to do.”
Her heart pounded triple-time as she considered his words. Could she do it? Could she tell him what she’d thought about, all those nights she lay in bed alone in the guest room instead of her wedding bed because her husband thought she was unclean? Could she tell him he was the one she’d fantasized about then, imagined him smiling down at her as she knelt before him, her mouth open wide? “I want...”
The words wouldn’t come. She let out a frustrated growl and wrenched herself out of his grip, fleeing to the living room. She dropped to her knees in front of the fireplace and picked up the matches, but her hands shook as she tried to start a fire.
She didn’t hear Jeremy come up behind her since he was in his socks, but she felt his presence, large and comforting, even though he was part of her confused frustration. He squatted beside her and took the matches from her. “I promise you, whatever you tell me, I’m going to be fine with it. Do your worst, kitten.” With a flick of his wrist, he lit the match and cupped it in his capable hands, leaning in to set it against the kindling she’d placed there earlier.
She stayed on her knees, her whole body trembling. She wasn’t scared, exactly. Worried he’d be offended, even though he said otherwise. And even though she knew, in her heart and in her mind, that this small piece of what she wanted was a normal part of many, many relationships, she feared he’d find her desires appalling. She swallowed hard and made a decision.
Once the fire was going, he moved to stand in front of her reading chair. He held out his hand as if to draw her to her feet, but she shook her head. “No.” She looked up at him, swallowing the fear back. “I like it here, on my knees. I don’t know why, but I do.”
“I like that too.” His eyes flashed hot, hotter than the fire blazing beside him. He dropped to the chair and leaned forward, his knees splayed wide, his hands hanging loosely between them.
Which did nothing to hide the blatant arousal behind the zipper of his jeans.
He groaned, and she tore her eyes away, looking up into his face. His cheeks were flushed. “You’re killing me here, sweetheart.”
She jerked. “I’m sorry?”
He laughed, but the sound was rough and uneven. “I’m not. Come here, kitten. Right in front of me, on your knees. Now.”
Her heart went into overdrive. Yes. She scooted forward the two feet that separated them.
“Closer.”
She moved until she was right between his legs, sitting on her heels, anticipation making her dizzy. It was easier with him giving her orders. It felt right, in spite of the fact that...no. Just...no. Not going there.
“Before we go any further, you need to know the most important rule of the life I live. I need you to trust me on this. If you want to stop what we’re doing, you say red and everything stops. Doesn’t matter what it is, doesn’t matter when it is. Got it?”
She cleared her throat and nodded. “Why can’t I just say...never mind. Red.”
He put his hand under her chin and locked eyes with her. “Because sometimes, things can get intense and you may cry stop when you really mean please don’t stop. Because I care for you far too much to risk harming you, either mentally or physically. Safe words—words that won’t get confused with any other words—are important, kitten. Especially when all this is new to you, new between us.”
Her breath shuddered. “I trust you, Jeremy.”
He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her lips. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart. That means a lot to me. But you still need a safe word. Remember how I said you have to give me the control, I can’t take it? This is how. And now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, tell me what you want. I need to hear the words, even though I already know. I promise it’ll be fine.”
Her eyes flicked down to his crotch, and then back up to his face and his knowing eyes. The lack of condemnation there gave her the courage. “I want to taste you. Your...” She paused, took a shuddering breath. The last time she’d used the word, she’d said it to Sam, and it had angered him so much he’d backhanded her. Enough. Jeremy’s not like Sam. He’s not. “Your cock.”
His eyes grew impossibly warmer. “I would love that, kitten.”
He stood, and when he did he was so close to her she could feel the heat coming off him. He undid his buckle and pulled the belt free of his jeans, dropping it onto the chair behin
d him, then moved his hand to the button.
“May I?” She was so close to him she could see the effect of her words on his erection. It throbbed, and without thinking, she ran her hand over it, squeezing gently. “Please?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Jeremy swore, dropping his head back. A bead of sweat slid down his temple. “It might well kill me, but have at it. I’m all yours tonight.”
He didn’t usually give his subs this much control, but he’d be damned if he’d stop Rebeccah from exploring a side of her that had been suppressed for so long. The need shone from her eyes, along with an innocence that should’ve been impossible. Fuck, she’d been married, what, six years? He wasn’t going to ask, not tonight. He wouldn’t ruin the mood, but he wondered how the hell that had happened.
She bit her lip and fumbled with the button, her fingers dipping just inside the waistband. He sucked in a breath as she touched his skin. She slid her hand in his pants, behind the zipper, drawing it down, her knuckles rubbing against his aching dick. “Christ. Back up, kitten. Give me a second.” She dropped her hands immediately as if they’d been scalded, but he didn’t want her to think she’d done anything wrong. He rested his hand on top of her head, toying with strands of her hair. “I’ve imagined you like this so often that reality is making it hard for me to stay in control. I’m not proud of that, but there it is. Another touch like that and I’ll go off like a teenage boy.”
Her eyes flew to his, and he was pleased to see satisfaction there and even a bit of laughter. No worry, no fear. Good.
“You’re going to be trouble, I can see it already.” He grinned. “I like that in a woman.”
She ducked her head, but not before he saw her quick flash of a smile.
He sat back down, leaving his jeans riding low on his hips. He waited a beat to see what she’d do next, but it seemed like she was waiting for direction. Hell, that worked for him.
“You know what you do to me, sweetheart?” He freed his erection from the confines of his briefs and let out a relieved breath. His cock sprang to attention, heavy and hard and aching. He stroked it with his fist once then drew a finger over the head, where a drop of fluid beaded the tip. “You do this.”