by M. S. Parker
His voice slid over my skin, warm and heavy, barely loud enough for me to hear over the music. I didn't need to have a conversation with him to know that I wanted to dance. Hell, I wanted to do anything that let me be closer to him.
When I put my hand in his, a pleasant shiver ran through me, and I let him pull me to him. He settled his hands on my waist and gave me the choice to keep the distance, or close it. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, allowing him to put his hands at the small of my back, just above my ass. His palms burned through the thin fabric of my dress and desire hit me strong enough to make my knees weak.
We didn't talk as we moved to the music, letting our bodies find their natural rhythm, find the rhythm that the two of us had together. A lot of people, myself included, thought that dancing was a good indicator of how two people would be when they had sex. If the past couple minutes told me anything, it was that this man would rock my world.
"Would you like to go somewhere more private?" His fingers flexed on my back, the strength in them making my stomach lurch.
I hadn't come here for this. I hadn't intended to come to a club to find someone to fuck. I'd wanted to scope it out, maybe see what it was about this place that appealed to Jace. Maybe see him. Observe him. It hadn't been about sex.
But the man holding me, waiting for me to answer his question, he was clearly about sex. Walking, talking sex. And I wanted it.
Plus, there was always the chance that some hot and heavy fucking would help me keep my head on straight about the sexy artist in the coming weeks.
I nodded, then threaded my fingers between this stranger's and let him lead me toward the back of the club. I assumed we were on our way to a back exit, then to a hotel or his place, but instead, he stopped in front of a discreet door for a moment, doing something I couldn't see, and then it swung open.
"Well, shit." I couldn't stop the curse as I followed him into the room, but his soft laugh told me he didn't mind.
The lighting was only a little brighter in here than it was in the main room, but it was enough for me to see that the walls held whips and crops and floggers, as well as other things I had no name for. A bed sat against one wall, posters on each corner. I could see restraints on the closer two, so I assumed a matching set were on the far ones. There was also a tall chest of drawers, and a few other pieces of furniture I didn't recognize, but could guess at their uses.
"This is your first time here," he said as a statement instead of a question.
"It shows, huh?" I glanced over at him.
One side of his mouth tipped upward in a crooked smile. "I won't be offended if you back out."
I turned toward him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and pressed my body against his as I stretched up to brush my lips across his. "The hell I will."
He was still laughing when he covered my mouth with his. I felt the kiss all the way down to my toes, in every cell of my body. His tongue stroked mine, but before we could deepen the connection, our masks bumped together.
His fingers threaded through my hair. "Should we take off our masks?"
My stomach flipped. I didn't know who he was, and while I was desperate to discover what was under those clothes, I wasn't sure I was ready to share our identities.
"Would it change things if I said no?"
He smiled at me. "Not at all. I have no problem with a little mystery." He gave me a soft kiss, then stepped back. "But since I won't be able to see much in the way of facial expressions, we need to have a safe word in place."
I knew what that was, at least. "Do you have a suggestion?"
"I usually prefer yellow and red, so we have a slowdown and a stop."
That answered any question I had about whether or not he'd done this before. Strangely enough, it didn't bother me. If anything, it made me confident that the two of us could have something in the here and now, and then go our separate ways without any hard feelings or expectations.
"Works for me."
I started to reach behind me to unzip my dress, but he stopped me with a hand on my arm.
"In here, I'm in charge." He didn't shout, and it wasn't some macho declaration either. It was a simple, profound statement. Then he waited to see what I'd do.
"All right." I dropped my hand and tried not to show how much his words affected me. I shouldn't have found it so hot, shouldn't have craved what he offered. But I did. "Be in charge."
His eyes narrowed, like he was trying to figure me out, and I felt a stab of fear. I didn't want that, didn't want this to be something complicated. I was taking a giant step out of my comfort zone, moving toward something new and probably crazy. I didn't need to also worry about someone trying to get inside my head.
I didn't know how much of what I was feeling reflected on the small section of my face he could see, but he must have seen something because he took a step back and began unbuttoning his shirt.
He didn't have to tell me to watch, because I couldn't take my eyes off him. Fuck, he was gorgeous. Tanned skin and firm, defined muscles, a trail of golden curls starting at his belly button and going down until they disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. And those tattoos...swirls of black in elegant Celtic designs. I wanted to trace each and every one of them with my tongue.
He folded his shirt carefully and draped it over a nearby chair. Without a word, he walked around behind me, and a moment later, I felt his hands on my zipper. As he slowly lowered it, he pressed his lips to my ear. "I knew you'd never done this before from the moment I saw you walk in tonight. Most submissives don't look a Dom in the eyes. They keep their heads down. But you didn't. I knew you weren't a Dom either."
I wasn't sure if I was allowed to ask a question, but I did it anyway. "How?"
I sucked in a breath as his fingertips grazed my back. That small touch shouldn't feel that good. Everything about this was impossible. Taking control by giving it up. Revealing intimate parts of my body while hiding my face. A desire so strong that I was no longer sure that I had the power over my own body to stop myself.
He kissed my neck even as he pushed my dress off my shoulders. "Because you want to submit to me."
I closed my eyes. Fuck. How in the world could this stranger have known that about me when I hadn't even figured it out about myself?
"For tonight, while we're in this room, let go. You're safe with me. You say the safe words, and I'll stop, but until then, trust me to know what you need."
His hands slid around me and cupped my breasts. I let out a soft moan that turned into a cry when he rolled my nipples between his finger and thumb. The touch was rougher than I expected, but it didn't make me want to run. It made me arch my back, push my breasts against his talented hands.
"Bend over the end of the bed, palms flat on the mattress. I'm going to make you scream."
What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
Nine
Jace
I hadn't felt this good in a long time. I went to the club last night after Erik called to ask me to keep an eye on Alix. There'd still been no word from Alix's girl, and he wasn't getting any better. He hadn't showed, and I was pissed considering I'd been wearing a fucking mask...but then I'd seen her.
After I left Gilded Cage last night, I kept waiting for the good feeling to fade. Sure, the encounter had been the best sex I'd had since I couldn't remember when, but it was more than just sex. I couldn't deny that. I'd never understood the appeal of having a complete novice, but the moment I saw my mystery woman across the room, I hadn't cared about her experience or anything other than having her.
I didn't use my hands. Ever. I used floggers and whips and crops and even belts, but I never used my bare hands to spank a one-session hook up. Somehow, it seemed too personal. It had never been an issue before, because I'd never wanted to do it. Until last night...
The moment I brought my hand down on that perfect ass I knew that I wasn't going to be using anything but my hands on this woman. I had to feel every inch of her, ha
d to know the silken whisper of her skin against my palms. She gasped as I slapped her ass hard enough to sting, but she didn't ask me to stop, just like she hadn't protested when I pinched her nipples until she groaned. That had been my test to determine if she would be open to what I wanted. I planned on testing her limits, but I'd never make a woman do something she truly didn't want to do.
The music from the club played in the background, but I focused on the sound of my hand against the firm muscles of her ass, her harsh breaths, and little gasps of pleasure. My cock pressed painfully against my zipper, and I knew I wouldn't be able to take as much time as I wanted tonight. I excelled at self-control, but this was one battle I knew I would lose.
I wasn't so sure I could actually consider anything that happened last night a loss, but I definitely hadn't been as much in control as I would have liked. But after her skin turned hot and pink under my hands, after I touched every inch of her, I hadn't been able to draw things out. She'd been writhing under me, making these insanely hot noises, and I hadn't been able to wait. It hadn't mattered that I wanted to taste her, to make her come with my mouth and tongue, to make her beg for it. I barely remembered to put on the condom, and then I'd been buried inside her.
I'd come so hard that my vision had gone white.
Afterwards, we hadn't talked, but the silence between us hadn't been awkward. She handed me my shirt, and I zipped up her dress. We smiled and walked back into the club, then had gone our separate ways. No names. No exchange of phone numbers or promises to meet again.
Hell, I didn't even know what she looked like beyond being a brunette.
But I knew what she felt like.
And now I was back in the studio, itching to create, wondering if I could somehow make my mystery woman come alive. The thing was, I didn't think I could do it with paints or charcoal. I was a talented artist, though the human form wasn't usually my subject, but I didn't think I had the skill to do her justice.
At least not on canvas.
There was another option though. One that I hadn't used in more than twenty years. Not since...
I shook my head and forced that memory back. I didn't want any shadows around today. Not when I was feeling so good. Not when I was walking over to the closet where I kept my supplies, hoping that the unopened package would still be there.
I hadn't used any form of clay since I was a child, but about six months after I moved in here, my father told me that I was able to buy whatever I wanted. Any other child who'd been given such carte blanche – and the money to pull it off – might have gone nuts with electronics and games. I'd bought paints and canvases and pencils and everything I needed to draw and paint to my heart's content.
And I'd picked up a small box of clay.
I'd thrown in away a year or so later, but the pattern had repeated itself every couple years, as if a part of me couldn't quite bear to give it up completely. As I carried the box back to the table, I was glad I'd gotten it, because I had a feeling it was the only medium that might be able to capture the picture in my head.
I sat down, took a deep breath, and opened the box.
"Mr. Randall." My housekeeper stuck her head into the studio. "Sorry to bother you."
I stared at her for nearly a full half minute before I realized I hadn't even heard her come in. I glanced toward the clock and saw that I'd been working all morning. I hadn't lost time like that in years.
"Yes?"
"There's a woman here to see you." She didn't look happy about delivering that particular message. "She's in the kitchen and refuses to leave until–"
"Jace, sweetheart, I tried explaining to the help that you'd be thrilled to see me."
Everything in me turned to ice as the owner of the unfortunately familiar voice stepped around my housekeeper and pushed her way into my studio.
Shit.
Bianca Evison. All curves and milk chocolate skin, both of which she loved to show off. Judging by the tight, low-cut, daffodil-yellow dress she was wearing, that hadn't changed since she dumped me four years ago.
"What are you doing here?" The question came out a little more bluntly than I intended, but I was still too stunned to manage the mask I'd always needed with her.
"I came to see you, of course." She gave me the same seductive smile that had drawn me to her seven years ago at the Gilded Cage. "It's been too long, Jay."
I didn't bother correcting her. In the time we were together, I'd told her more than once that I didn't like the nickname Jay. She hadn't listened during the three years we'd been together, so why would this be any different?
I stood but didn't move any closer to her. "It's been four years, Bianca."
Her gaze dropped to my clay-covered hands and her nose wrinkled in disgust. Suddenly more self-conscious than I'd been in years, I rubbed my hands on my pants, then stopped as I realized what I was doing. This was my home. My studio. If she didn't like it, she could get the hell out.
"Seriously, why are you here?"
She came even closer, moved as if she meant to lean on the table, then thought better of it. She'd cut her raven-black hair even shorter than it was before, but those dark eyes were the same. Teasing while lust hid something sharper.
"I just moved back to the city and thought I'd look up some old friends." She looked around, then delivered one of those back-handed comments I'd ignored for far too long. "I knew you'd still be here, by yourself, and thought you'd be as happy to see me as I am to see you."
I turned my back on her and walked across the room to the sink. I knew the question she wanted me to ask, and if it would get her out of here faster, I'd play the game. "Where were you?"
"You haven't heard?" She almost sounded offended. "I married a French diplomat. I've been all over this country and France."
I had heard. In fact, I heard he claimed to be some sort of French aristocrat who'd been made a diplomat on the request of his father...but that he'd neglected to mention that said father had been arrested in some sort of scandal involving a barely legal babysitter and her mom. Bianca had dated me because I was rich, but when I hadn't proposed after three years, she'd traded up for someone who could give her the money and prestige she felt she deserved. And when that hadn't panned out, she'd filed for divorce.
Irreconcilable differences, of course.
"It didn't work out though," she said, a note of sadness so real in her voice that I would have believed it...if I hadn't known her intimately enough to know all of her tells and lies.
"Sorry to hear that," I said flatly. "If you don't mind, I'm working."
She shot another disgusted look around the room. "Oh, yes, I can see that."
I turned to see her poke one finely manicured nail into the hand I'd been sculpting, and my temper snapped. "What the hell, Bianca? Why would you do that?"
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "It's just some...actually, I don't know what the fuck it is, but it shouldn't be more important than seeing your girlfriend after so long."
"Ex," I growled. "And I don't have time for this. I have a show coming up, and an art critic who's doing a piece on me. I have work to do."
I walked over to the door and opened it, then looked back at her. "You saw yourself in, so see yourself out."
Ten
Savannah
My skin was on fire. Fuck that. My whole body was on fire. Not just my ass where my exceptionally hot mystery man had been teaching me about something else he apparently knew I wanted. Who knew that being spanked was as erotic in real life as it was in fiction?
But that wasn't the only thing he'd been doing with those strong hands of his. After he finished spanking me, he slid his hands over my hips, thumbs brushing against the edges of my overly sensitive skin. I could feel the urgency in his touch, but he didn't give in, not yet. He traced my ribs, cupped my breasts. As one hand started to play with my nipples, rolling and tugging them in turn, he moved his free hand down between my legs.
When he first told me that he'd make me s
cream, I thought he'd just been bragging the same way men always bragged about their sexual prowess.
But then his fingers slipped between my folds, and he cursed. That was when I knew he'd make good on his promise.
He stroked his thumb over my clit, pleasure building with an intensity and speed I hadn't known before. Then his fingers were inside me. Strong, calloused fingers that twisted and rubbed all the good places.
I gave a cry of pleasure when I came, and then he was pulling me up onto the bed, the bedspread rubbing against my throbbing nipples. He moved between my legs, the thick head of his cock nudging against my entrance. His fingers dug into my hips as he held me firm, then drove into me in one smooth stroke.
I felt his control shatter as he pounded into me, and I pressed my face against the thick bedspread, screaming just like he promised...
I came awake with a start, heart racing, breath coming in pants, my body hanging on the edge of a climax. The same thing happened last night as well, and even though my ass wasn't as sore today as it had been yesterday, it was still tender enough to remind me that I hadn't imagined any of it. It had been more memory than dream, but it still hadn't done that night justice.
All the same, I closed my eyes again and slid my hand under my sheets. I learned last night that I wouldn't get any rest if I didn't take care of things myself. Fortunately, between how tightly wound my dream had made me, and how skilled I'd become at finding my own release, it took only a few well-placed touches for me to come.
It would take more than a couple climaxes, however, before Tuesday night got out of my head. And even longer until I forgot the masked man who'd made me realize that his world might be one I'd like to spend a little more time in.
Or maybe a lot.
I stared up at the house for a moment, still in awe as much as I had been the first time. At least that was what I told myself. Because it couldn't be that I was interested in seeing Jace again. Not after the way the masked man had made my body sing. I found Jace...interesting. From a professional standpoint. That was all.