One to Keep Google

by Sophie Oak

  “And your pussy.”

  She pushed the pajama bottoms she had on off, along with the bikini panties she was wearing.

  “Spread your legs.”

  His voice had lowered a couple of octaves, and it poured over her skin like thick, rich honey. She complied, though it felt awkward. Stef sat up and looked down at her. He didn’t say a thing, merely sat there. His stormy eyes took in every inch of her skin. She wondered briefly if she should put on a show but thought better of it. He was staring at her the way he looked at a piece of art. Just his eyes on her made her skin heat up.

  Why this man? She asked herself the question as she lay still under his considering gaze. Life would be easier if she could love someone simple. Stef was beyond complex. He was outrageous, kinky, sexy as hell, and the most loyal man she’d ever met. He’d helped out almost everyone in Bliss. Everyone knew he was the world’s worst sucker for a hard luck story. Don’t have health insurance? See Stef. He’ll pay for your medical bills. When drought had threatened the local ranchers, they didn’t go to the bank, they went straight to Stef Talbot. When Zane and Callie and Nate needed a loan to start their tavern, they had applied to the bank of Stef. He really was the king of Bliss, but sometimes he held himself apart. He needed to know that the people he helped loved him, too. She was pretty sure he never thought about that.

  While Stef stared at her, his eyes fastening on her pussy, she stared back at him. He was a work of art. His jaw was a strong line. She would use a single, thick brushstroke to capture its stony grace. His skin was smooth and sun-kissed, gold and tan, blended with cream. His hair was longer than usual, falling above his eyes in midnight locks. And his eyes. She’d always loved his eyes. They were ever changing with his mood. They went from flint gray when he was angry to a warm, almost misty tone when he softened. When he was aroused, there was a storm in those eyes that always pulled her in.

  Her whole body flushed with desire, and he hadn’t touched her yet.

  A slow smile creased his perfect face. “Very good, Jennifer. Now get dressed. I want to show you something.”

  She sat up, more than surprised at his command. “What?”

  He gracefully rose and stretched his long limbs. “I said get dressed. My father is running around the house somewhere. I don’t want him to see you naked. He already thinks you’re a felon.”

  “I don’t really care what your dad thinks,” she managed to state evenly. She wanted to move on to the more immediate subject. “What game are you playing that you think you can get me all hot and bothered and then leave me this way?”

  A low growl came out of his throat, and suddenly his body was pressed to hers. His weight held her down, and the menace in his face did all kinds of things to her heart rate. “I am not playing a game. I am the Master, and you are the sub. That means you do what I tell you to do when it comes to sex, love. I know I can’t expect you to listen to me when it comes to anything else, but I am the Master in this room. Now, you have a choice to make. Accept my will or tell me no and this is done.”

  She clenched her fists. It wasn’t fair, but this was the way it was with Stef. If she wanted a chance to prove they belonged together, this was what she had to do. In return, he would coddle and protect her. He would lavish her with affection. The fact that he was willing to cede that he didn’t have the final say outside of sex was actually a win. She knew that wasn’t the deal with his other subs. He was in control of every aspect of life during their time together. She was different. It would have to be enough for now. “I can’t get dressed with you on top of me, babe.”

  He rolled off her, getting to his feet and holding his hand out. Jen let him help her up. She tossed on the tank and her PJ pants. He’d picked up her panties and shoved them into the pocket of his sweats.

  “You don’t need them,” he said almost defensively. “No panties for you.”

  His kinks made her smile. She imagined what he’d do with her underwear. She doubted he would simply toss them in the laundry. Not her Stef. He’d carry her underwear around with him all day. He wouldn’t pull them out and show them to his friends. He would keep them in his pocket. Every so often he would put his hand in his pocket and caress them and remind himself that she’d said yes. “Good because I don’t need them.”

  He flushed as though her acceptance of him pleased him on a fundamental level. When she was properly attired, she took his hand. He led her through the gorgeous manor house his father had built. He was silent as he moved from the west wing to the east wing. Jen had spent enough time there to know where he was going. His studio. Most of the east wing’s second floor had been transformed into the most amazing studio, with big bay windows to catch the early morning light.

  “You still haven’t explained how you came to sleep at the end of my bed,” she said as they passed the grand staircase.

  “I told you, I wanted to check on you. And it’s not really your bed, is it? It belongs to me.”

  She chuckled. In Stef’s mind, everything belonged to him. He firmly believed the whole damn town was his. She wasn’t an idiot. “Well, you shoved me there, so I’ll call it mine. And really, where was I going to go?”

  He stopped, his handsome face frowning down at her. “As you rarely stay where I put you, I will have to decline to answer that. I don’t know. It could have been anywhere.”

  She groaned but followed as he continued walking. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

  “I thought we had, and why bother? We could simply read about it in the paper this morning. I’m sure a reporter was at Trio last night, waiting for the story like everyone else.”

  “Is that what’s bugging you? It’s no big deal. Everyone would have known we had sex in Zane’s office anyway. I was totally going to tell Callie, and she would tell Nate and Zane and…well, she would tell everyone. Really, it saved Callie a whole bunch of phone calls.”

  His brows came together in the middle of his forehead. “I didn’t like the fact that they listened in. It was private. I’m thinking about sending the health inspector to Trio. I’m also thinking about buying a bunch of rats and releasing them in Trio about twenty minutes before the health inspector gets there.”

  “Don’t, babe. Once the Hollister-Wright clan came crying to you, you would end up paying for the exterminator. Save yourself the expense.”

  “Maybe not,” he replied, stopping in front of the door to his studio. “Maybe I’ll tell the bastard to go to hell and that he’s not welcome in my town anymore.”

  “Oh, they won’t send Zane to talk to you,” she said. “They are way smarter than that. Callie will come to your door with those sad-puppy eyes, begging you to save her livelihood. She’ll talk about her future children who will starve, and it will be their Uncle Stef’s fault.”

  He moaned and then opened the door. Early morning light flooded the studio, a vibrant, clean illumination that had her gasping. Stef had redone the studio. Before it had been stark and masculine, with nothing in it but art supplies. It had been a refuge for him. He’d once said he liked it because there were no distractions. She’d complained there was no comfort, either.

  Tears pricked at her eyes. There was a big, comfy couch in one corner, and a small fridge and table. Two easels sat side by side in the perfect spot to catch the light. The big bay windows, once bare, now had gorgeous, gauzy, white window treatments. The room was still stark, but femininity was encroaching, like something inevitable.

  He really was dumb.

  She turned and threw her arms around him. “I love it.”

  He stood there for a moment, but finally his arms came around her. His voice was gruff. “I’m glad, but I didn’t do it for you. It was time for a change.”

  So dumb. He could talk about how their relationship was all about sex, but he’d never done this for a sub before. He’d practically rebuilt the room to her specifications. She decided to let it go for now. She pulled away reluctantly. “Well, it’s beautiful.”

  He st
epped back, awkward for once as he turned a hand out. “Your supplies are over there. This is the stuff I managed to get boxed up before we left. It will be a couple of weeks for the rest of it. These arrived this morning, along with your work. I had it all crated and shipped overnight. I opened it, but I haven’t taken them out yet. I thought you would like to do it.”

  She shuffled over to the lovingly crated box that contained the three works she hadn’t been able to sell at the gallery. The gallery. Her stomach churned, but she put aside the bad stuff. If she told Stef she’d had a horrible dream about that place last night, he’d have that doctor back checking her for signs of PTSD. Or he’d go out and buy a therapist for her. She concentrated on the good stuff. “I sold some paintings while I was in Dallas.”

  She hadn’t sold anything while she’d been in Bliss. Stefan was a world-renowned artist, but she was just starting out.

  “Really? That’s great, Jennifer. I told you that would happen when you concentrated,” he murmured, a smile on his face. “You have a great eye and a way with colors.”

  She pulled out the first of the three paintings she had left in her apartment, setting it on the easel. It was the last one she’d finished, with its glorious rushes of green and that shadow of a man. It was the painting she’d redone because she wasn’t happy with the colors. Funny, they seemed perfect to her now.

  “I’m going to give this one to Rachel.” Rachel needed a baby gift from her. Callie said Rachel had been inundated with baby clothes, and Max and Rye had purchased every safety item known to man. Maybe Rachel would enjoy something to brighten up the house. “I missed her shower. This has to be better than what Nell gave her.”

  Nell and Henry had given her a gift certificate to offset the baby’s carbon footprint for the first year of life. Nell had purportedly explained that Rachel was on her own after that and had given her a lecture on green diapering practices.

  “I think she’ll love it,” he said with an indulgent smile on his face.

  A sense of satisfaction poured over her. Maybe if she told him more about her sales, he would see that she was concentrating on her work. “And, who knows, maybe it’ll be worth a lot someday. I got five thousand for the three I sold. Let me tell you, that came in handy.”

  Stef’s face got a bright, brilliant red. “That fucker. I swear if he wasn’t already dead, I would kill him myself.”

  She started at his outburst. “What are you talking about? Who’s dead?”

  He stopped, a red flush spreading across his face. “Renard. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until now.”

  “Whoa.” She didn’t like the man, but she was surprised he was dead. He’d been a halfway decent mentor until he’d thrown her in jail. A chill went through her. “Is it over the painting?”

  He nodded and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Probably. The police found his body yesterday. They think he was involved in a drug deal gone bad. He was apparently paying for some cocaine with the painting. I don’t want you to worry. You’re safe here.”

  As she had no idea where the painting was, she wasn’t terribly worried. But something else struck her. “Why are you upset that Renard sold my paintings?”

  Stef sputtered, his normal grace deserting him as he seemed to realize he’d made a mistake. “Nothing. I was surprised. I would have thought you could get more for your work.”

  There was only one reason he would be upset that she’d only gotten five grand. Her smile slipped away completely. “You bought them.”

  It felt like a crushing defeat. She’d gone about in a haze after the sale of the first one. After the second two, a confidence had settled over her. Now that was stripped away. She hadn’t truly accomplished anything. Stef had merely stepped in and played god again. Deus ex machina. That described him. He played god and then left her alone again.

  She slid the painting back into the crate. “Maybe I’ll get her something else.”

  “Jennifer.” He strode across the space between them, filling her senses. “It was the only way I knew to take care of you. And I paid way more than five thousand. I gave him twenty because I wanted you to be okay. I wanted you to have the things you needed.”

  Those damn tears were back. She fought hard not to shed them. She crossed her hands over her chest. “I needed you, Stef. You weren’t about to give me that. You won’t give me that now, either, will you? You’ll follow me across the country and pay way too much for paintings no one gives a damn about. You’ll move heaven and earth to get me out of jail, and you’ll toss me over a desk when you get a little horny, but you won’t tell me you love me.”

  His jaw hardened. “Don’t make more of last night than there was. And don’t make more of our relationship. I’m attracted to you. You’re submissive, and I’m a Dom. It’s inevitable that we would be together when we’re living so close together. But this is a D/s partnership, not a love affair.”

  A weariness stole over her. Could she really fight him? How long and hard would he fight before he got over his fear? Maybe he wouldn’t ever get over it. He loved her. She felt it, but it didn’t matter if he never accepted it. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t good enough to risk his heart for. “Fine. It’s just sex. Got it.”

  He sighed, the hardness flitting away. “Does it have to be like this? Can’t we be friends? I like you. I think you’re an amazing artist. I think you have a bright future, if you concentrate. You don’t have to be stuck here. You could be in New York selling in galleries.”

  He was always pointing out the future he thought she should have. He didn’t ask her opinion. He merely stated what he considered the best possible future for her and pushed her to take it.

  “Great, I’ll look forward to it,” she said, stepping away from him.

  He really did treat her like a child. He’d told her he wouldn’t mentor her then did it at every opportunity with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to go to New York. It didn’t matter that she could see herself being perfectly happy selling her stuff to the tourists who came through Bliss. Stef had decided what her future should be, and he wouldn’t let a little thing like the fact that she loved him mess that up.

  His dark hair was shaking slightly. It was the tiniest bit overgrown, curling a little around his ears. He was so masculine compared to the metro guys she’d been around in Dallas. “I wish I could help you settle in, but I have to meet Rye. I have to help him set up the pony rides for the kids. And I should probably take a shower. If you need anything, talk to Mrs. Truss. If you’re hungry, there’s probably a buffet set up since we have so many guests. When I get back, we’ll talk, okay? Maybe later I’ll take you into town. Would you like that?”

  “Sure,” she forced herself to say.

  He ruffled her hair like he would a kid. There was an affectionate smile on his face, like he’d never tied her up and forced his dick inside her body. He turned and walked out.

  Jen shivered and wished she’d put on a robe. He’d taken all the warmth with him.

  She looked around the gorgeous studio and saw it for what it was—a pretty cage. He would keep her here, and then he didn’t have to deal with her in any way he didn’t control.

  And he’d been in control the whole time. Even when she was away from him, he’d pulled the strings. He’d watched her and bought her paintings and stepped in the minute she got in trouble. He’d hauled her home, and now he’d detailed the terms of the relationship. She was perfectly free to love him with all her heart as long as she obeyed him in the bedroom and understood he wouldn’t acknowledge that he loved her back.

  Screw that.

  She would do the bedroom stuff, but he was already going back on his promise to not dominate her outside of sex. Her gilded cage was proof of that.

  “Stefan?” a voice called.

  She turned to see the door to the studio opening. Sebastian Talbot stepped in looking dapper in wool slacks and what she suspected was a cashmere sweater. The elder Talbot
was a lovely man. His hair had gone to silver, but she could tell where Stef had gotten his looks. Of course, like the younger Talbot, this one had problems with her, too.

  “He isn’t here, Mr. Talbot. He’s cleaning up, and then he’s going to help out at the Winter Festival.”

  Sebastian’s hand rubbed at the back of his neck in a sign of obvious frustration. “He told me I should stay in right after giving me a list of things to do. I don’t remember him being this bossy.”

  Jen snorted as she picked up the canvas. She should repack it. She wasn’t going to work for a while. It was time to take a break while she thought things through. “You haven’t been around him much. He’s the bossiest person I’ve ever met.”

  Sebastian’s face fell a bit, but he took a breath and gave her a tight smile. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. He also knows how to find talent. That work is lovely. Truly beautiful. The colors are amazing. It’s not Stef’s work, though. He has the best luck when it comes to finding new artists. I wonder if he would let me buy that one. It would be perfect in the new offices.”

  She felt a smile creep over her face as she made a decision. “Sorry, this one is for a friend, and the other two are going into the auction pool for the festival. But, if you like, I do work on commission. Feel free to contact my agent, oh wait, that’s me.”

  She hauled out the other two paintings. She would do what she’d wanted to do with them from the beginning. She would share them.

  “This is your work?” Sebastian studied each as she pulled them out. He had the same serious concentration on his face that Stef got when he contemplated a new work. Sebastian Talbot was a connoisseur. “You’re talented. I believe I would hire you. My company prides itself on helping talented artists.”

  “You can tell me all about it on our way to Bliss,” she explained.

  His eyes flared. “But Stefan told me to stay in.”

  Jen shrugged. “He told me, too. Are we going to do what he says? Here, help me with these. If we hurry, we can get out of here before he even gets out of the shower.”