“I had high tea there once.”
“Remarkable, isn’t it? And that is what Sterling is about. The experience. Exceeding expectations at every turn. Would a new owner understand and value that?” He scowled. “The brand is well respected worldwide,” he said when they were alone again. “And it is profitable. With some changes, returns could be even greater. For example, we’re considering adding a luxury cruise line with several small exclusive ships and a couple of medium-sized ones. We won’t be competing with value carriers, but instead we’ll be creating a new market. I’m also developing an idea to create high-end housing opportunities, villas and mansions that families can stay in for weeks or months if they desire. Imagine that you could have a house in Tuscany with a wine cellar at your disposal. Or a villa in Monte Carlo. Perhaps a chateau in the Swiss alps. No need to worry about the taxes or maintenance or housekeeping.”
“Or cooking?”
“Or cooking,” he confirmed.
“If I must…” She laughed. “Is this where I say, ‘take my money’?”
He enjoyed her expressions. Whether she was happy or upset, excited or teasing, the emotion filtered across her face. “So if we sell, would we get as much as it’s worth? How many corporations have the kind of money necessary? There are a limited number of hoteliers with the capital and resources to buy us out. Would the Sterling name be discontinued? I believe the future is bright, both in economy travel and the luxury markets. To me, this is more than a business. It’s my family’s legacy. I’m in no hurry to tear it down.”
“Which is why your grandfather spent so much time with you. He wanted to instill that in you.”
Noah had enjoyed a pampered childhood with lazy days and trips. After college, he’d traveled the world—staying at various Sterling properties. His version of learning the business had included ordering twenty-four-hour room service and judging the food quality and wait times. He’d even compiled a spreadsheet to show where there was room for improvement. Not that Rafe objected to that. In fact, that kind of reporting was appreciated. But Noah had done it all on company money, and he’d traveled to exotic destinations and made outrageous demands. To make matters worse, he was—by all accounts—a lousy tipper.
The server brought crab cakes, and Hope moved her rose to one side to make room for the platter. She pricked her index finger on a thorn, reigniting his hunger for her, something he’d never had trouble controlling before.
She sucked on her finger. “That hurts.”
“Not as much as what I’m thinking about doing to you.”
Her eyes widened.
“I want the thorns on your pussy.” He transferred one of the appetizers onto her plate, then scooped the second onto his. “The question is, are you going to do it beneath the table? Or wait until we get home?”
Hope dropped her hand and curled it into a fist in her lap. “Are you serious?”
“I am.”
“You want me to…” She trailed off. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Hike up your skirt, then scrape the thorns up your inner thigh.”
“Mr. Sterling, you are a sadist.”
With her, yes. He couldn’t hide his grin at her delicate outrage. “Of the worst kind, it turns out.”
Her gaze flickered to the rose, then back at her plate. Though she didn’t respond, she was clearly thinking about his suggestion.
“How did you like the way I spanked your pussy? Did it hurt as much as you imagined it would?”
“Yes, but…”
“But?” he prompted.
“The sensations were… What I mean is… The orgasms were…”
Her struggle was as real as it was delicious. “The pain added to the heightened sensations?”
“Yes.”
“Then do it.”
Until she discreetly wiggled around to lift the hem of her skirt, he wasn’t sure she’d do as he’d requested.
His cock surged as her knee brushed his. He made sure the tablecloth guaranteed her privacy while she lowered the rose to the seat.
Her hands trembled, and her breaths crashed into each other. “Maybe it’s the champagne.” She sounded deliciously bemused.
“It’s the curiosity. The risk.” There were so many more things he’d ask of her when they visited Vieille Rivière, his favorite private restaurant in New Orleans. “The reward you’re hoping for later. It might hurt. Tomorrow morning perhaps you’ll notice a small scratch that will remind you of this evening. If nothing else, it’s an experience you won’t get with anyone else. You’re hungry for that, aren’t you, sweet Hope? The opportunity to live, to explore?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “But it will hurt.”
“Especially when you press the thorn against your clit.”
Her skin went scarlet, then drained of color.
“Then you’ll be so aroused you’ll wonder how you’ll make it to my house without an orgasm. You may even consider giving into the temptation of excusing yourself to the ladies’ room, but since you’ll be on a video with me while you’re in there, you won’t have the opportunity.”
“You can’t mean that!”
“Which part? Forbidding you to masturbate? Or the part where you’ll be on the phone with me?”
“Either.” She scowled. The lines trenched between her eyebrows would scare a lesser man.
“For clarity, I meant both.”
The server joined them. “Everything okay, Mr. Sterling?”
“Fine. Thank you, Stephen.”
“Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” With that, the man left them alone again.
“Meet my gaze,” Rafe instructed Hope. “I want to see each of your reactions.”
She had to scoot around a little.
“I’m waiting.”
Hope drew her lower lip between her teeth as she pressed the stem against her skin.
“How is that?”
She whimpered. Slowly, she moved her hand higher. Breathless, she stopped and looked at him.
“Make sure you have a thorn pointed toward your pussy.” Her almost imperceptible movements and tiny sighs told him she would, indeed, enjoy his vampire gloves—dozens of tiny spiked nubs burrowing into her at the same time.
She turned the stem a little. “I’m nervous.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Her eyebrows were drawn together in shock and question.
“Fear is powerful, isn’t it? Your insides are trembling. Fight or flight has been triggered. Everything inside you is rebelling at my request. Everything you’ve learned is warning you not to do it. Yet you know—or at least suspect—that the high you will experience will make any fleeting pain worth it.”
From the way she frowned at him, she didn’t want him to be right.
“What’s going on inside you? Has your heart rate increased? Palms a little damp? Hot shivers? Cold? Are you trembling?”
“Yes. All that.”
“And to think, you could just be having dinner alone. Or worse, with some man who bored you, talking about current events, discussing your day at work.” He took a sip of his drink, appreciating the dryness and notes of vanilla. “There’s some risk, for sure. You could be caught. Myrna might see you and kick us out of here, perhaps ban us from all her restaurants. You might be so turned on that you have a difficult time containing your reaction. Maybe our server will suspect what you’re doing and pretend not to notice. At any rate, you’re tempted.” Would she do it? Ms. Malloy was a perfect lady, and wondering if she would color outside the lines was a tantalizing prospect. If she did, her acquiescence would fuel his masturbatory fantasies for days, maybe weeks.
She took her sweet time deciding, and that made her surrender that much sweeter.
Hope moved her hand a little and bit down hard on her lip as she forced the thorn against her cunt. Rafe could have exploded in that instant. It wasn’t just her shocked, rapturous expression. It was more. Her obedience. Her thirst to receive what he offered.
“Sweet God, Hope.” Beneath the tablecloth, he moved his hand on top of hers and pressed, digging the thorn in harder, imagining it snagging her silken panties.
“Rafe…”
He held it against her another few seconds, until she inched back. Then he released his grip.
With her shoulders shaking, she dragged in a few shallow breaths. “That’s… It didn’t hurt like I thought it would. Maybe because of my underwear? But…” She placed the rose back on the table. A single petal fell from it. “The idea of what we did, I mean, in public.” She crossed her legs. “It was hot. And you’re right about what was going on in my brain. The…”
“Mindfuck?”
“Yes.” She reached for her glass and her hand trembled as she lifted it. “Addictive.”
He had a million more experiences for her, including a few they could start on tonight.
CHAPTER FIVE
“After you.” Rafe opened the door to his condominium. Hope hesitated for a fraction of a second. Everything else that had happened until now, she could excuse. Rafe and his overwhelming presence had swept her up in the moment. But coming home with him, after he’d said he planned to spank her?
“Hope?”
As always, patience radiated through his voice. If she told him that she’d changed her mind, he’d take her home and leave her there.
Which meant the problem wasn’t the powerful and seductive Rafe Sterling. It was her. Clients had asked her out before. Until today, she’d turned them down. But with Rafe, the more scandalous his behavior, the deeper she was drawn into his web.
Trembling, she stepped across the threshold into the inviting, expansive white-marble entryway.
He followed, closed the door, then turned the lock. A shiver feathered down her spine, one that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning and everything to do with the lethal heat that blazed in his eyes when he turned her to face him.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m—” Not knowing what to say, she broke off.
“Show me your thigh.”
So much for thinking he might give her some time to get settled.
He held out a hand for her purse. He placed it on a bench that might have been an old church pew.
When he regarded her with one raised eyebrow, she lifted her skirt. She was shocked when she didn’t see any abrasion from the thorn. Even though the scratch was imaginary, she could have shown him the exact path it had carved. Her clit throbbed still, from the phantom pain.
“You’ll have to do it harder next time.”
She wanted to. What did that say about her? Hope dropped the hem of her skirt and the material fluttered back into place.
“May I take your blazer?”
His switch from a sexual Dominant to courteous host tipped her world off-balance.
She shrugged out of her jacket, and he hung it in a coat closet near the door.
“Let me show you around so you’re comfortable.”
That wasn’t a word she would have chosen to describe being in his place.
“Your house is a surprise,” she said as they passed a black baby-grand piano.
“Is it?”
“I thought you might live in River Oaks or Tanglewood.” Or another of Houston’s pricey gated communities, even the Woodlands where he could have a sprawling estate. Instead, they’d ridden the elevator to the ninth-floor penthouse of a modern-looking condominium in Uptown. When they’d driven onto the property, they passed tennis courts, several swimming pools, and a running track. Though he’d left his car in the parking garage, there were numerous spaces outside, and there was a wooden portico covered with vines to create an inviting shaded gateway to the entrance of each of the complex’s three buildings.
“I didn’t see the point in getting a house since I don’t spend a lot of time at home. A condo requires much less maintenance. And I like the amenities.”
“Like the concierge?”
“It’s handy. It’s also close to bike trails. I can reach them without having to drive anywhere.”
The space was contemporary, with floor-to-ceiling windows. A balcony off the main living area had a seating area with oversize chairs, end tables, umbrellas, and, of course, a bicycle.
His fireplace mantel had no personal touches. The room was filled with decorator-inspired vases and art. Even his furniture was stark—black leather with no welcoming pillows.
On the other hand, the kitchen was a chef’s delight, with a pot filler over the six-burner stovetop. The vent was streamlined and gleamed.
“I’d offer you champagne, but that will have to wait until after your spanking.”
The way he spoke to her, as if it was inevitable, sent rockets of desire straight to her pussy. “Uhm. Okay. Why?”
“You need to be in full charge of your responses, and I need to be aware of you and your reactions to what we are doing. But I can offer you a club soda or mineral water.”
Since her mouth was dry and she wanted to occupy her hands, she said, “Mineral water would be nice.”
He took down a glass with a thick stem, filled it halfway, then squeezed some fresh lime into it. “Shall we go outside?”
She nodded as she accepted the drink. “The view is spectacular,” she said once they were on the patio. From here, there was a perfect vantage of the empty tennis courts and a young couple splashing each other in the swimming pool. Beyond, buildings glistened in the fading sunlight.
“Invites you to go and explore the city, doesn’t it?”
She turned and rested her back against the railing. “Is this complex owned by Sterling Worldwide?”
“No. We don’t do a lot of that kind of development, but it is something I’m interested in. It’s a departure from our core strength, so I would want to proceed with caution.”
“Cautious isn’t a word I associate with you.”
“Why not?” He frowned, puzzled, but not challenging, inviting her response.
“You seem…ambitious.”
“The two aren’t incompatible. I like to win. So while I move forward, I do so on situations that require very little risk.”
“Which is another reason to use a matchmaker.”
“Clever way to convince me not to ask for the return of my mother’s money.”
She tried to grin, but the reminder that she needed to find him a wife with whom he would share this view every day bothered her enough that she distracted herself by taking a sip of her mineral water.
“There’s more to see,” he told her.
The dining room table was oblong, glass topped, with seating for ten. “Do you entertain a lot?”
“No. The designer my mother hired suggested I needed something this size to fill the space, and I didn’t have the heart to turn it into the exercise room that I wanted.”
As part of the dining room, he had a fabulous bar area. Stemware of various sizes and shapes lined up on two rows of glass shelves. As if this were one of his hotels, several more mirror-lined shelves held gorgeous bottles of liquor, all premium brands. The patio could be accessed through a set of French doors. “You should consider hosting parties. This place was made for it.”
He shuddered, and she laughed. The shared experience softened her tension and demolished barriers. If she wasn’t careful, she might start to like him.
Rafe showed her the study, complete with a built-in desk and a wall of bookshelves, another fireplace, and a television. This room had a couple of comfortable-looking chairs, lamps, and a settee. Because of a smattering of magazines—back issues of Houstonia, Texas Monthly, Sterling Getaways—along with the TV remote control on the coffee table, she guessed this was where he spent a lot of his free time. As with the rest of the home, this room had no personal effects.
“There’s a private elevator over there.” He pointed to a door that looked as if it might be a pantry.
“A private elevator for your condo?”
He shrugged. “It’s helpful for moving furniture.�
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“Which you do a lot?”
“Or as a timeout place for naughty subs.”
“Whew. Good thing I don’t know any of those.”
“Yeah.” His quick grin transformed him into a more approachable man. “Good thing. Would you like to see the upstairs?”
She paused, knowing what that meant. His private space. His bedroom. Her spanking. Dread and anticipation unfurled. “Ye—ees.” The word broke into two syllables as she stumbled over it. She was trying to sound sophisticated or at least submissive, yet she was as unnerved as a virgin.
“You delight me.” At the bottom of the marble staircase, he paused. “I’d like you to get undressed.”
As always, he shocked her. “Here?”
“It will change your mindset.”
“And make me cold.”
“Not for long. Your ass will be hot soon enough.”
Unable to maintain her composure while his expectation overwhelmed her, she lowered her gaze. He took the glass from her and set it down. Her voice cracking, she asked, “Are you staying dressed?”
“At least for the moment.”
“Is that part of your approach to BDSM?”
“It can be.”
His shockingly clear eyes radiated power. A lot of executives wore comfortable clothing, but she thought his tailored suits were sexy and classy. Once again, her gaze traveled to his tie as she had a sudden fantasy about being restrained.
“Besides, I like looking at your body. It’s easier not to give in to the temptation to fuck you if I’m dressed.”
“I wondered about that.”
“We haven’t discussed it. I want to you to understand that BDSM and sex are often separate things. One doesn’t have to lead to the other.”
“If…” Had she lost what little remained of her mind? Hope cleared her throat, then tried again. “I’m open to it.”
“Me too.”
The growl threaded through his words heated her. Maybe he was right that she didn’t need to worry about getting cold. She removed her shoes and left them near the bottom stair.
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