Lock & Key Collection

by Rebel Rose

  “Doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. You’re always beautiful to me.”

  Emma Lia catches my attention when she pulls a pair of black lace panties up her legs. She wiggles her butt to adjust them after they’re in place. So fucking sexy.

  “I smell like your cum.” She grins. “And like sex. Lots of it.”

  Sweat and cum, my cum, mixed with Emma Lia’s feminine juices. Nothing in the world like the mix of those scents.

  “I need a shower,” she says.

  “No time. Your pussy gets to smell freshly fucked by me until we get home.” I don’t hate that she’ll have my mark on her all day.

  A wicked grin grows on her face. “A nice reminder of last night’s fuck-a-thon.”

  It was indeed a fuck-a-thon.

  I have no idea how we pull it off, but we’re walking out the door within fifteen minutes of crawling out of bed.

  Emma Lia holds up her hand for a high five. “Nice teamwork, Mr. Broussard.”

  I like hearing her call me that. Reminds me of our Mr. and Mrs. scene when we arrived. “We make a great team.”

  The minute we’re in the air, Emma Lia’s head leaves my shoulder and we recline our seats. “See you in New Orleans.”

  “Sweet dreams, bebelle.” Mrs. Broussard.

  I sleep off and on during our flight home, but mostly off. I’ve never been a great sleeper during travel. Not the case for Emma Lia. She is curled into a ball and leaning against the window. Her breath is steady, and every now and then I hear a soft snore.

  I’m feeling restless, so I forgo closing my eyes and crack open Emma Lia’s The Thorn Birds novel. Once we reach full altitude, the flight attendant makes her way back to check on us. “May I get you or your wife anything?”

  Here we go again with the whole my wife thing, but I don’t mind the charade. Especially when it involves my fucking Mrs. Broussard into oblivion. “I think that my wife is fine, but I’ll take a Jack and Coke.”

  The flight home feels so long. Probably because Emma Lia sleeps most of the way, and I’m left to entertain myself. “I enjoy traveling, but it always feels so good to come home.”

  “Traveling always makes me feel icky. And it doesn’t help that I didn’t get a shower this morning,” she says.

  “I have an idea. Go upstairs and get into the tub while I get our bags out of the car. And when I’m finished, I’ll join you.”

  She giggles. “I have a very strong feeling that if you get in the tub with me, you’ll end up owing me eight keys instead of seven.”

  I owe her seven key pulls?

  Mother. Fucker.

  “Seven? Are you sure?”

  “The first time was when I was Mrs. Broussard. Two was showgirl-flogger night. Three was after the spanking you gave me for talking to Craig at the blackjack table. Four was the night after we played craps until midnight. Five was after the big-stakes poker game. Six happened after you flogged me for the second time. And last night makes seven.”

  Damn. She’s right. I’ve been too busy enjoying her to notice how many key pulls she’s been earning. And she’s not even counting the morning sex that we had. Guess she’s considering those as vanilla encounters and not charging me for them.

  Fuck, these keys are going faster than I intended. And honestly, I thought that Emma Lia enjoyed our trip. I wouldn’t have expected her to bring up the keys as soon as we walk through the door.

  “Come on. Let’s go pull your keys.” And get that shit over with.

  “It’s okay. I can do it after my bath.”

  “I’d rather you do it now.” I can’t sit here worrying about this for one minute longer than necessary.

  She follows me to my office, and I unlock the cabinet where I’m storing the box of keys and move it to my desk. She sighs and closes her eyes, reaching in and pulling out the first key. “One.”

  She repeats the process until seven brass keys are lined up along the edge of my desk. She picks up the first key and inserts it into the lock, turning it. And nothing happens.

  Thank fuck.

  She shakes her head. “Not this one.”

  She goes through the same process six more times, holding up the final key. “Last one, Broussard. Do you think this could be it?”

  “I’m not finished with you and fate knows it. So, no. This key won’t fit the lock either.”

  She pushes the key in, but nothing happens when she turns it. “You are correct. Fate seems content for me to stay with you a while longer.”

  Relief washes through me like a wave rushing over a beach. But then that consolation that I feel recedes when I consider that maybe next time she will pull the key that works.

  “Go on and get your bath.”

  “Are you still getting into the bath with me?”

  I shake my head. “I just gave you seven key pulls. Seven, bebelle. I’m not ready to give you another one.”

  “O… kay. But you know where to find me if you should change your mind.”

  I bring our bags up and begin unpacking while Emma Lia soaks in the tub. I go still and listen when I hear her singing at the top of her lungs. I chuckle deep down because it’s so damn bad.

  “Tell me you love me,” she belts out.

  “Are you seriously entertained by that horrid sound?”

  I look up and see Claudia standing in the doorway of my bedroom. “I am, but only because it’s so terrible.”

  “Does Miss Mundane think that she can sing?”

  “She knows that she sounds horrible, yet she doesn’t care.” I love that about her.

  Claudia walks into my bedroom toward me, but my glare stops her in her tracks. “You know that you aren’t allowed in here without an invitation. And I didn’t invite you.”

  “Do you make her stand in the doorway and wait for an invitation?” she asks.

  “I did in the beginning.”

  “But you don’t now? She gets to come into your bedroom whenever she likes?”

  “Emma Lia and I have a different kind of relationship. What we have makes me feel really good inside.” And I’ve never had that feeling before.

  “You aren’t a Dom with her. And she for damn sure isn’t a submissive.”

  And here we go again. “We’re everything that I need us to be and more.” So much more.

  She steps toward me and I hold up my hand, cueing her to stop. And she does. “I miss you, Tristan. I miss us.”

  “The sooner you find your new Dom, the sooner that’ll come to an end. Speaking of, how is the search going?”

  “I’ve told you that I don’t want anyone else.”

  “Which means you haven’t been looking.”

  “I can’t.”

  That shit just makes my blood boil. “You must, Claudia. You don’t have a choice. And I’m tiring of telling you.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it, and I see no reason that you can’t have both of us.”

  There have been times when I would have entertained that idea. Probably even been eager for a polyamorous relationship but not since Emma Lia came into my life. “Not interested.”

  “It wouldn’t have to be threesomes if that’s not what you want. You could split your time between us.”

  “No, Claudia. I don’t want that.”

  “I wouldn’t tell her if you wanted to keep our being together a secret.”

  “I don’t know how else to tell you so that you’ll understand. I don’t want you. I only want her.” I’m so fucking tired of trying to convince Claudia of this. “Don’t bring this up again. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

  “Tristan…”

  I point at the door. “Out of my room. Now. And don’t come back in here again. In fact, don’t even be on this floor.”

  I don’t want Emma Lia to see Claudia anywhere near here. Ever. Finding me with my former submissive, especially in the place where I once dominated her… fuck, I can’t think of many things that would be more disastrous at this point in my Dom-sub relationship with E
mma Lia. She would lose every bit of trust that I’ve worked so hard to build with her. And that can’t happen.

  Emma Lia is stretched out on her side, her feet touching the side of my thigh, watching television while I go over some of the proposals for the new Vegas casino. Nothing about the way that we’re touching is sexual, but I like the closeness.

  “I’m tired.”

  “Would you like to go up and turn in early?”

  “Guess that depends on what you have planned for tonight.”

  I hold up the stack of papers in my hand. “This is what I have planned for tonight.”

  “Oh.” She turns onto her back and wiggles her toes against my leg. “You won’t be coming to my bedroom or asking me to visit yours?”

  The truth is that I’d like nothing more than for her to come to my bedroom tonight and stay until morning. I’ve enjoyed waking with her every day this week, but that won’t happen without my owing her a key. And she’s pulling too many, too fast.

  “I have a lot of work to do on the new casino. I’ll probably be busy for the next few hours.”

  “All right. I think I’ll go to bed early then.” She sits up and slides over to me, placing a soft kiss against my mouth. “Good night.”

  “Good night, bebelle.”

  I end up working much longer than planned. It’s two in the morning by the time I crawl into my bed. I close my eyes and lie there thinking of Emma Lia in the neighboring room. At least a dozen times, I consider getting up and going to her room. And I would if it weren’t for those fucking keys.

  I spit in my hand and reach into my boxers, grip my hardening cock. I glide it up and down, imagining that Emma Lia is riding my cock.

  Yeah, I liked it when she got on top. And I want her to do it again. Soon.

  I open my eyes and see Emma Lia’s shadow in the doorway between our bedrooms. Like an obedient submissive, she waits for my invitation. And I don’t disappoint. “Come here, bebelle.”

  I throw the covers back and she climbs into bed on top of me, placing one leg over my pelvis so she’s straddling me. She leans forward, her elbows pressed into the pillow on each side of my head and kisses my mouth. I place my hands on her thighs and move them upward until they reach her bare cheeks. “Bebelle, I believe you have forgotten your panties.”

  She kisses my mouth slowly, but something about it feels different. Less in synch. Almost clumsy. And desperate.

  I pull my mouth away from hers. “I can’t give you another key. Not this soon.” I pause a moment. “If we do this, it has to be a freebie. Vanilla. Are you willing to do that?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Okay. If you’re giving it to me freely then you know that I’m willing.”

  Emma Lia moves down my body, kissing every inch until she’s kneeling between my legs. She hooks her fingers into my waistband and tugs. I lift my hips and she drags my sleep pants down my legs.

  She lowers her body to mine, bringing us close enough to touch, but she isn’t pressing her weight against me. Her nightgown is slick when she climbs upward to straddle me again. She arches back, and my erection presses against her warm entrance.

  I place my hands on her stomach and glide them up her silky gown. I palm her tits, her hands covering mine, and her nipples harden beneath my touch. She moans when I squeeze lightly, and that’s when I notice that her breasts don’t feel the same. They’re firm, round, unmoving. And her moan doesn’t sound like what I’ve become accustomed to hearing.

  This is all wrong.

  I push her off of me and lean over to twist the switch on the lamp.

  Son. Of. A. Bitch.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Claudia moves to her knees and crawls toward me. “I want you to make love to me.”

  “We don’t make love. We never have; plus, I’ve told you over and over that I don’t want you. Mother! Fucker! What in the hell is wrong with you that you can’t hear what I’m telling you?”

  She just snuck into my bedroom from Emma Lia’s room and led me to believe that she was mon bebelle. This goes well beyond anything reasonable.

  “I love you, Tristan. I can’t let go of us.”

  “You don’t have a fucking choice. I. Let. You. Go.”

  Emma Lia appears in the doorway between our bedrooms, her eyes wide when she sees Claudia in my bed. “Well, I guess this explains why you didn’t want me to come to your bed tonight.”

  “Bebelle… this is not what it looks like.”

  She shakes her head. “Damn, Tristan. I wouldn’t expect a Dom to be so fucking cliché.”

  “I’m not being fucking cliché. I’m being fucking serious.”

  “Do us both a favor and don’t insult me. Call a spade a spade.”

  “I didn’t invite her into my bed.” I look at Claudia. “Tell her what you did.”

  Claudia shrugs and smiles.

  “You. Fucking. Bitch.”

  “This woman is your long-term submissive, Tristan, and you’re cueing her to cover for you.”

  “She’s my former submissive,” I correct. “Former, as in I no longer want her.”

  “She doesn’t look former from where I’m standing.” I see pain in mon bebelle’s eyes as she looks at Claudia on my bed, wearing what I now recognize as lingerie that I chose for Emma Lia. It’s the ivory piece with ruffles and a bow between the breasts. It’s the sweet one I asked her to wear on vanilla night.

  Emma Lia whirls around and stalks into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck! This is not good.

  “A real submissive wouldn’t dare do that to her Master.”

  “Can you please just shut the fuck up and get out, Claudia.”

  “I want—”

  “I don’t give a goddamn what you want.” I dash across the floor and grab Claudia’s upper arm, pulling her out of my bed and pushing her to the door.

  “Please don’t throw me out, Tristan.”

  “I wouldn’t have to throw you out if you’d fucking listen to what I’m telling you.”

  I open the door and shove her into the hallway. “Find a Dom or don’t. You have three days to find somewhere else to go. I’m done playing host to you.”

  “Tristan—”

  I slam the door in her face and lock it. Dammit, Claudia may have really fucked things up between Emma Lia and me. Which is exactly what she wants.

  How do I fix this with mon bebelle? How do I make her believe me when I explain what really happened?

  I have no idea, but here goes.

  26

  Emma Lia Grant

  What a motherfucker.

  I can’t believe that he had Claudia in his bedroom. And right next to my bedroom of all places. If he wanted to fuck her, he could have at least done it in her bedroom.

  I want to yank every hair out of that bitch’s head, but even more I want to twist Tristan’s balls until they separate from his body.

  Fury and resentment swirl inside me, scorching every fiber within my body, but mostly the ones in the center of my chest. Which is so fucking stupid. I’m so fucking stupid. I shouldn’t feel anything but hatred for this man. He’s my captor. My blackmailer. My Dominant. He enjoys using me and fucking me and hurting me.

  He spent the last week telling me that I was his. And I spent the week warming up to the idea. I was growing fond of him. I felt a connection growing between us. I was even beginning to feel like I actually could be his. But that’s what a good Dominant does, right? He convinces a submissive that she belongs to him.

  I’m jealous of him being with another woman. And it’s absurd. To feel any kind of attachment to the man who is blackmailing me into sex is the stupidest thing that I’ve ever done in my life. But I’m also fucking pissed as hell too; he’s putting my health at risk by fucking someone else.

  I feel so ignorant for thinking that I was the only woman in his life. I feel foolish for caring that I’m not.

  I h
ave to get out of here.

  I’ve made all of three steps toward the closet when Tristan comes into my room. “Bebelle…” I ignore him, and he follows me into the closet. “Bebelle…”

  “I am not your doll, so don’t call me that anymore.” I wish he hadn’t given me that endearing name. It’s only made me bend more easily to his will.

  “You will always be my doll.”

  My eyes sting and that pisses me off. I can’t cry over this motherfucker. “I’m no one’s toy to play with, Tristan.”

  “Will you please stop and listen to me?”

  “No. The quicker I change clothes, the quicker I can be out of here and be on my way home.”

  “You aren’t leaving,” he says.

  I whirl around to face him. “Are you going to hold me captive again?”

  “I’m going to do what I must to keep you here while I explain.”

  “I don’t want to hear your lies.”

  Tristan wraps his arms around my waist and hoists me over his shoulder, carrying me to the bed and tossing me in the middle. He crawls over me and restrains my wrists above my head. “You’re going to listen to me whether you want to or not.”

  “Wanna bet, motherfucker?”

  He doesn’t even make an attempt to block my knee when it collides with his groin.

  “Oooh… fuuuck.” He instantly rolls off of me into the fetal position. “Ugggh!”

  I scramble away from him on the bed. “Fuck you, Tristan Broussard. Fuck. You.”

  I dash into the closet and yank my gown over my head. I pull on the first shirt that I reach, followed by a pair of jeans. No bra. No time for that.

  I’m pushing my foot into a sneaker when Tristan bear-hugs me from behind and carries me to the bed again, repeating the same process except this time I’m tossed onto the bed facedown. “I told you that you’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to.”

  I fight but it’s no use in this position. I’m pinned against the bed. And he has me.

  “You’re out of your mind if you expect me to stay after this.”

  He grabs the back of my neck and pushes me down against the mattress so hard that I don’t have a chance in hell of freeing myself of his hold. “I didn’t fuck Claudia.”