by Selena Kitt
What was she thinking?
A rational part of her brain urged her to thank him for bailing her out and make an escape. Her heart thundered a warning. Adrenaline swamped her stomach in short, furious waves. All her instincts screamed that he was a man who could—would—devastate her. But sensual longing and sexual need went through her like heat lightning, obliterating everything else. "I also have coffee at my place."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Uhm, I mean, if you're interested."
His blue eyes flared with intensity, and her insides did a flip-flop.
"Do you want me to follow you there?" he asked.
"Actually, I could use a ride."
"You told Junior you had a car."
"I lied."
"Was it your wicked plan all along to get me to drive you home?"
"What if it was, Staff Sergeant?"
"It worked." He grinned. "And you can call me Sir."
* * *
Like everything else, his rental car suited him. Black, American, all muscle and restrained power. Dozens of images flitted across the movie screen in her mind. Her naked and kneeling. Him undressing her. Her running her fingers across his chest. Him tugging his belt from its loops.
She shifted uncomfortably.
He looked across at her while simultaneously reaching for the temperature control. "Cold?"
"I'm fine." For someone who's lost her common sense. She was under no illusions. Pierce was suggesting a scene, nothing more. No whispered promises. But on Sunday or Monday, he'd be returning to active duty.
The only thing he was offering was the one thing she'd promised herself she'd avoid.
She told him to take a right turn, then he snaked the vehicle through the streets until he reached the end unit. Fortunately, the unit next door was for sale, which meant she had no neighbors.
If he made her scream the way she was fantasizing about, that would be a good thing.
He parked and walked around to her side to help her out. Pierce closed his hand around hers, firm, but not too tight. And he held her for a few seconds longer than necessary. The combination of his gentleness and reassurance made her apprehensions vanish. She just wished her nervousness would go along with it. Getting naked with a man for the first time, especially one who might be tying her up and spanking her, left her shaky.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine." Her voice was a little high-pitched.
But after a few seconds, he nodded and let her go.
Until that moment, she hadn't realized she'd stopped breathing.
"Nice place," he said as they walked up.
"Thank you. I'm rather proud of it, honestly. It's close to work, and I don't have to do any of the exterior maintenance." The exterior was a type of stucco, the color of red clay. Cheery blue shutters added the homey touch that had made her fall in love with it. In a way, the contrast of colors had reminded her of a trip she'd once taken to Santa Fe. Too add to the feel, she'd planted lavender in southwestern-style pots on her front porch.
She flipped on a light when they were inside, and she wondered what it looked like to him, a man who oozed solitary, masculine style.
The townhouse was two stories, with a wide-open floorplan. The focal point of the first-floor room was a fireplace. The white-painted mantel above it was stuffed to overflowing with dried flowers in vases, framed snapshots, even vacation souvenirs. Her favorite was a conch shell she'd hand-carried back from the Caribbean.
The living room arguably had too much seating, but she liked having company. She had blankets and pillows stacked on the sofa and the chairs. And because she liked to read, end tables held books and magazines. Two torch-shaped lamps added atmosphere.
She had numerous potted plants everywhere, and almost all of her artwork highlighted the importance of family and friends, of memories and enjoying the moment. Now that he'd been inside, he couldn't doubt how different they were.
Ella led the way to the kitchen, and he took a seat at the granite-topped breakfast bar.
"Coffee?" she asked. "Or beer? Wine? Soda?"
"Just the conversation," he said.
"Water?"
He grinned, as if sensing her sudden nervousness. "That'd be great. Thanks."
She pulled two bottles of water from the fridge and reached across the counter to offer him one.
He nodded a thanks and set it aside, unopened.
She uncapped her bottle and took a long drink. Keeping much-needed distance between them, she propped her hips on the counter next to the fridge.
"Tell me about your experience."
His voice was part invitation, party unyielding command. "The last man I was involved with, Lance, introduced me to it. We went to a few play parties, but mostly it was an occasional, kinky kind of thing. I'd dress in leather when we went to clubs, we'd have scenes when we got home. That sort of thing?"
Pierce nodded. "So you didn't live together?"
"No. He was stationed at Fort Carson, and had his own place with a couple of buddies. He'd come over maybe once during the week, and at least every other weekend." In retrospect, she realized she should have recognized the warning signs, but she'd been in love. She'd convinced herself he was busy, working hard, or in the field, on maneuvers. And she'd allowed herself to believe that he'd one day figure out they were meant to be together.
"Any other relationships?"
"That included BDSM? No."
"You didn't go back to play parties? Clubs?"
She shook her head.
"You told me earlier that you miss it. So why haven't you looked before now?"
"Do you have a questionnaire you'd like me to fill out?"
"Just curious," he said easily. "I want to know you."
Funny. She quizzed her dates in the same way, probing, wanting to know as many details as possible in the shortest amount of time. She wasn't sure she liked being the focus of that attention, though. "It seemed odd for me to go by myself. Uncomfortable, I guess." She deliberated for a couple of seconds before adding, "I talked to a couple of men online who said they were Doms. And I was never really comfortable meeting them. They seemed more interested in hook-ups than a relationship." Ella had nothing to lose by being honest with him. "I only started dating again recently. For obvious reasons, BDSM isn't something I typically mention when I first meet a new man."
"A real man won't be scared of your needs. If you scare him, he's not worth the investment of your time."
He could be right. "I went out with an accountant once," she said. "I made a joke about spanking… to gauge his interest. He dropped his butter knife on the floor of the restaurant. And then he shushed me."
"He…"
"Told me to shush." She nodded. "All the dramatics, too. Pressed a finger to his lips, just in case I hadn't understood the word. And he looked around to be sure no one else had heard me."
"I'm guessing you didn't like that."
"As much as I would have enjoyed him throwing his drink in my face. Which is what he did, figuratively. I did learn that the life expectancy of a one-hundred-dollar bill is nine years. So at least something good came of the evening."
Pierce smiled.
Despite the sexual tension crawling through her, she'd never enjoyed a man's company more.
"That explains why you were talking to Junior."
She nodded. "Tonight… I guess he met a client at the Neon Moon. And then when he was leaving, he saw me and recognized me from the country club."
"I know you work there."
"Morgan has a big mouth." Ella scowled. "Anyway, yeah. I figured he was safe."
"He's not."
"Could you make your dislike any more obvious?"
"What safeword do you use?" Pierce asked, rather than responding to her question.
"Stop."
"That works for you?"
She leveled her gaze at him. "I know red is more common, and if it's the safeword at a party or club, of course I'll use it. But I'm the type of
woman who means stop when she says it."
"Respected," he acknowledged. "And for slow down?"
"I never really needed it," she admitted. "In fact…"
With seemingly never-ending patience, he waited.
Ella appreciated that Pierce made the discussion easy, with no more sexual charge than if they were discussing the weather. It made it possible for her to separate her feelings for him from the details of a potential scene. "I almost always wanted more."
"Did you ask for it?"
Heat crept up her face again. "Once or twice. Mostly I tried to be grateful for what I had." Not that it had mattered in the end.
"What was it you wanted?"
"Something longer, maybe. A few times, it was over just when I was getting into it. And… There was a woman at one of the parties who talked about subspace. I wasn't sure whether she was joking or not."
"What do you think now?"
"I looked it up. A lot of people say they've achieved it. I don't think I've felt enough pain or… I don't know. Maybe I haven't been in a scene that lasted long enough. Or I haven't been able to empty my mind. Who knows?" She shrugged. "Or I could be lacking something."
"I doubt that." A smile tugged at his lips, and somehow that made him seem even more dangerous. "But we could find out."
She slid her bottle onto the counter so she didn't drop it.
"Not that it should be the objective of a scene," he said. "Your satisfaction should be the goal."
"And yours?"
"Comes from seeing yours."
Without planning, the thought on the top of her mind tumbled out. "And sex?"
"Are you propositioning me?"
"No!"
"I was hoping you were."
Suddenly, she was wishing she had.
"It's up to you," he told her. "I have no expectations of sex. To me BDSM is about the scene, the focus, the exquisite manipulation of pain so it becomes raw pleasure."
His words made her arousal spike.
"If you're agreeable…" He swept his gaze over her, taking his time, lingering.
When he reached her eyes, she read approval in his gaze. Silently he'd reassured her of his meaning. He desired her, and whatever happened was up to her. "I don't sleep around," she said.
"Neither do I."
She blinked. "What?"
"Surprised?"
"Flabbergasted," she admitted.
"One-night stands are awkward. I never know what to say. I hate leaving in the middle of the night. Worse, I don't want a woman getting out of my bed and finding her way home after dark. Having breakfast together is my preference, but that can lead to more intimacy."
She recalled being at a man's house years ago, and experiencing the same dreaded morning after. No toothbrush, limited makeup, a tight dress from the night before. She'd cooked him eggs and bacon when she'd have preferred granola and tea.
"Mostly I stick to scenes."
All of a sudden, ice went through her. "Do you have a girlfriend? Someone at home?"
"No. I'd never do that to her. Or to you. I've seen too damn much heartbreak to willfully inflict it on someone else."
She raised her hand. "Recipient. Though Morgan probably told you that, too."
"What happened?"
Ella noticed he had neither confirmed nor denied her guess.
"I took a relationship more seriously than Lance—"
"Your Dom?"
"Yes. I'm embarrassed to admit that I missed obvious signs because I liked him and the play." She might as well get it all in the open. "He had another girlfriend in Killeen."
"Ouch. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I'm wiser now. I'm grateful I found out before I invested any more time. That's my story. And since I'm being so straight with you, I do miss the scenes." Miss them? Obsessed was more like it. Last night, she'd dreamed she was being flogged. The Dom hadn't been Lance, but more of a compilation of a several men she'd seen at parties. She'd woken up horny, and using her vibrator had only given her temporary relief.
"What about you?" Ella folded her hands across her chest. "I mean… You have needs."
"I masturbate."
"Lucky hand."
"I can show you how I like it done."
"Or I could watch." What the hell was it about him that removed the filter from her mouth?
"That's hot," he said. "Do you have toys that you like to use?"
She squirmed as things suddenly became more serious. "A few."
"Show me?"
"They're in my bedroom."
"You can get them or I can come with you."
"I…ah… Let me get them." She pushed away from the countertop and had to pass him to get to the stairs.
So fast that she never saw him move, he snagged her wrist, stopping her. He turned her to face him.
"This is a good time to practice," he said.
"Practice what?"
"Proper responses. His eyes had darkened like they had in the bar when he'd taken her onto the dance floor. The softness that had been there a moment earlier had vanished, ice into vapor. "Let me get them, Sir."
Ella gulped for air, once again wondering what the hell she was thinking in agreeing to scene with Pierce. He was nothing like Lance had been. Pierce seemed serious in his approach to BDSM. And probably all other areas of his life, she realized. "Let me get them, Sir."
"Very nice."
Rather than letting her go, he threaded the fingers of his free hand into her hair, bunched it, then eased her head back a couple of inches, nothing that hurt, but enough that she couldn't look away.
"You didn't tell me a word that means you want to slow down."
"I told you I've never needed one."
"You've never been with me."
Her knees threatened to buckle.
"You said you wanted more from your previous Dominant. I intend to leave you satisfied."
"In that case, I'll use yellow."
"Go get your toys."
Almost imperceptibly, he tightened his hand in her hair.
"Yes, Sir," she whispered.
"But first, I'm going to kiss you, Ella."
"About time."
"Oh?"
"About time, Sir," she replied saucily.
With a grip as firm as it was intractable, he eased her head back. "I've been wanting to do this all night. Open your mouth for me, Ella."
She wasn't sure whether she complied or whether he didn't wait, but their tongues were entwined, hot, searing. He sought her submission, and she gave it.
He groaned as he penetrated her deeper. Never had she been kissed like this before. Pierce tasted of determination and promise that she knew he could never fulfill.
She met it with a desperate longing.
Pierce released her wrist and placed his palm on her ass, nudging her up onto her toes to change the angle for a greater possession.
With her back arched, she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on, trusting him to care for her.
The kiss was everything she hoped… and it would make her lose her heart if she wasn't careful.
But how was she supposed to go back to an ordinary kiss after this?
Slowly, but far, far too fast, he eased away.
Her mouth felt bruised. But she wanted him with a hunger she was afraid she wouldn't be able to deny.
He took his time helping her to stand, releasing his grip on her hair.
It was then she realized he hadn't done anything more than kiss her. He hadn't slid his hand up her skirt, felt her slick pussy, or even cupped one of her breasts.
She knew he desired her. The blaze in his blue eyes was unmistakable. Instead, he was restrained. Maddeningly so.
"Hurry back. You've got five minutes or I'm coming up."
"Yes, Sir," she whispered. Ella was aware of his gaze on her backside as she dashed up the stairs.
Once inside her bedroom, her thoughts became a jumbled mess.
She knelt to drag out a large plastic box fro
m beneath the bed.
None of the contents had been touched since she'd played with Lance. She had a crop with a big red heart on the end. It had seemed fun when she'd bought it, but she imagined it would look ridiculous in Pierce's hand.
Since he'd said he would be the one to tie her up and beat her ass, she took out two lengths of hand-spun silk rope. And then, just in case he wasn't familiar with how it worked or preferred not to take the time it required, she selected a pair of soft handcuffs.
Then she paused and sat back on her heels.
She had a paddle with wicked holes in it.
Earlier, he'd mentioned stripes that might embarrass her at his parents' anniversary celebration. And suddenly she craved some.
But the paddle wouldn't leave the kind of marks she wanted.
Though she'd had limited experience with a cane, she pulled one out of her box. It was rattan, thin, frightening. She thought about Pierce and how much she trusted him.
After drawing a breath to give her confidence, she placed it on the floor next to the rope and cuffs.
She put back the paddle but decided to offer him the ridiculous crop.
After sliding the box back into place, she crossed to the far wall. The bottom drawer of her dresser was full of lingerie and forgotten leather outfits.
Since he hadn't said anything about whether he wanted her naked or dressed, she selected an A-line leather skirt and matching shelf bra. Wondering what his reaction would be like, she hurriedly changed.
"One minute!" he warned.
"Yes, Sir!' she called back. Her heart thundered in anticipation.
Forcing herself to think, she slipped her feet into a pair of tall, red stilettos, bent to adjust the ankle strap. She gathered up the toys she'd selected then gripped them tight before taking a steadying breath and heading down the stairs.
Halfway down, she paused. Pierce was standing with his back to the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest. His commanding presence overwhelmed her.
"Holy…" He trailed off.
Ella gripped the banister as he perused her, from her shoes, to the skirt and shelf bra.
Even across the distance, she saw his blue eyes flare with desire. "Damn, Ella. You're a lovely woman with perfect instincts."