by Sophie Oak
“Will you play with me, Sir?”
“Yes. I would love to play with you, sweetness.” He reached up slowly, giving her every chance to move away, but she’d decided she was safe for the moment. She let his fingers trace the curve of her jaw. “I can take care of you.”
It seemed almost a revelation, as though he was surprised he’d made the statement, but his jaw firmed, obviously waiting for her to deny him.
He needed her, too. She had no idea why this man was so scarred, but she felt it.
“Will you spank me? I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. I don’t want to get onstage or have a big scene. Just stop right here and spank me.”
His hand moved from her jaw to her throat, just barely touching her, so soft it was almost like he wasn’t there, just a whisper, a promise of things to come. “I’ll want your skirt up. I want to touch you. Not your pussy. I don’t have the right yet, but I want to caress your ass before I start.”
Her skin felt like it was on fire, but in a good way. And she had a confession to make. “I’m wearing underwear.”
He growled, a low, sexy sound. “Not if I’m going to spank you, you’re not. Give them up.”
Doms. They never took into account a girl’s tender sensibilities because in their world there wasn’t a place for embarrassment. It got in the way of more important things like pleasure and joy and self-acceptance.
If she’d really thought she would actually do this tonight, she would have worn nicer underwear, but no, she was completely out of practice and was wearing cotton panties with Scottish terriers on them. Sir stared at her, his blue eyes watching every move she made. His face was blank, but the coldness in him had evaporated, replaced with something that felt like anticipation and affection.
He liked her.
It made it much easier to push her skirt up and awkwardly step out of her undies. “Sorry.” She handed the slightly faded pair to him.
“You are never wearing these again. I might only play with you once, but this is my edict. No more underwear with dogs on them.”
He looked so horrified. He would be fun to tease, to pull out of his obviously dark spaces and force him to laugh from time to time. “You should see the ones with flamingos.”
He reached for a chair, shoving her sad little Scottie dogs into the pocket of his leathers. Even seated he was intimidating. He patted his lap. “Green, yellow, or red. Where are you right now?”
Ah, the stoplight system of safe words. “I’m green on the cusp of yellow.”
She wasn’t as panicked as she thought she would be, but then all she had to do was look around to see no one was going to let her get hurt. And Sir moved her. He was odd, sexy, slightly lost.
He was like her.
“We don’t start until you’re green, sweetness. I’m not going to scare you away.”
“Because you feel sorry for me?” She wasn’t going to be offended. After everything that had happened to her, she often felt sorry for herself, but she wanted to know where she stood with him.
“Because I really want to feel your ass.”
How could she possibly turn down such a charming man? She found herself smiling, freaking smiling. If he had been charming, she wouldn’t have trusted it, but this Sir didn’t hide behind a mask. “I’m green.”
“I bet you are. I bet you’re green as grass.”
She frowned. “You know I’m not. If you’re looking for innocence, you need another girl.”
“You’re innocent, sweetness. Don’t think because bad shit happened to you that you lost your innocence. It’s still there, but what I hope you learned is that you should surround yourself with people who will protect it, cherish it, not who gain pleasure from trying to wrest it from you. Your innocence has nothing to do with your hymen or how many times you’ve had a dick in your mouth. Innocence has more to do with who you are as a person. Answer me one question, Natalie, and I’ll tell you if you’re innocent or not. If you could go back in time, spare yourself every moment of the pain he caused you, erase it all, but leave the other two there with him, would you do it?”
Leave Gretchen and Kitten? “No. I would do it the same way. He was going to kill Gretchen. He would have done the same to Kitten eventually.”
His hand brushed hers. “Innocent. No one can take that from you, Natalie. Now let me help you. Let me show you that you can have this piece of your life back.”
She draped herself across his lap. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done this willingly. His muscles were rock hard under her belly, and it wasn’t just his thigh.
“Ignore that. Where are we?”
“Green. We’re green, Sir.” Better than green actually. She was tense, but in that happy way because any minute his hand was going to smack her ass.
She felt him push her skirt up, the cool air hitting her skin. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her hands beginning to shake just a bit. What was she doing? Why the hell was she doing it?
His hand cupped her ass. “You’re beautiful.”
She couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t see what he was going to do.
She heard the smack before she felt it. The hot, hard slap landed on her ass sending a harsh shock through her system. Pain. Tears flashed across her pupils, and just for a second, she wasn’t over this man’s lap but tied down and forced to take whatever Hawk dished out, praying for it to stop, one way or another.
“Natalie?”
“Do it again.” She wasn’t there. Hawk was dead. He couldn’t hurt her anymore, but she could damn straight hurt herself. She wanted to scream red and run and hide in her room, but she knew what would happen. She would find a way to cut herself because she couldn’t cry.
No hesitation. He smacked her ass again, twice and then three times, that huge hand covering whole sections of her skin in fiery pain. He didn’t hold back. This wasn’t erotic or sexy. It hurt like fuck.
She gritted her teeth, enduring. Each time he slapped her, his hand soothed, fingers tracing her skin as though she was fragile and he was trying to make sure he didn’t leave a mark. But she wanted the mark. She wanted to feel it tomorrow and remember that she’d gotten through it, that she’d taken it.
“Where are we, sweetness?”
“More, Sir.”
“Natalie,” he started, the hesitation in his voice causing her to grasp his ankles.
“Please. I hate fucking begging.”
The slap to her ass was worse than all the others combined. “I’m not making you fucking beg but I will also not hurt you in a permanent fashion.” Smack. “If you want a real sadist, you need to find another sucker, sweetness.” Smack. Smack. Smack. “I am not some asshole who kidnaps women because I can’t keep my dick up without some sadistic shit.” Smack.
Her skin was so sensitive even the smallest slap made her bite back a cry.
This was what she’d missed. Not just the spanking. Not just the magnificent, horrible, amazing heat that flushed through her.
Connection. She was connected to Sir, emotion flowing between them in a way she wasn’t sure she could handle, but she knew she couldn’t say the words that stopped it.
Tears dripped from her eyes. It wasn’t a deluge, but it was enough. A nice floaty sensation started as the tears fell. She needed to scream, but this was enough. Years had passed with nothing but tension. Even when she’d hurt herself, she couldn’t cry, but they squeezed out now. No sobbing, but some relief flowed as Sir smacked her over and over again.
She relaxed, her muscles giving up the fight. Tears fell, silent but there.
He stopped, his hands lifting her, shifting her so she slumped in his arms.
“Cry for me, sweetness. You need it.”
She needed to get away from him. She had zero interest in getting cuddles from the big bad Dom. But he felt so good. His arms encircled her, his hand pressing her close, tucking her head under his chin as she sniffled.
“Hey, sweetie.” Gaby’s voi
ce broke through the relative quiet. “You did great. Come on. We can go and sit and talk. I’m really happy for you.”
“Be happy somewhere else. She’s mine. Until she gets off my lap, she’s mine and I don’t want to share right now.” His arms tightened around her.
Such a bossy Sir. And warm. She was tired and weak and the day had been past shitty. She sighed and relaxed against him.
It was a while before she got off his lap.
Chapter Four
Ben thought about hanging himself from the nearest well-pruned tree. The resort was gorgeous and tranquil. He could see that even in the dead of night. But there was no peace for him here. There might not be peace for him anywhere.
“Oh. My. God. This is so cool. I’ve never been to Texas before. Are there cowboys here? Do you think they have horses?”
Georgia wouldn’t stop. Her mouth had been running at three hundred miles an hour since the moment—the terrible moment—he’d agreed to let her come along. He’d started thinking of that moment as his own personal Armageddon. The bible had left out a fifth horseman. Sure, Pestilence, Famine, War, and Death were all scary, but Ben was starting to think they had nothing on Petulance.
“Ewww.” She pushed a few buttons on her phone. Yeah, she loved that phone. “Ashton? OMG. I am. You are? Really. No, like horses and cowboys and shit. Seriously?”
Ben turned up the final drive hoping he knew where the hell he was going.
Georgia screeched, the sound threatening to split his skull in two. “No kidding? She did not do that. What is wrong with that girl?”
“Sir?”
Ben sighed. Not only did he have to deal with Georgia’s backseat ramblings to her West Coast friends, he’d been forced to stop in Dallas and pick up Kitten and the kid. Logan Green was the only one who seemed comfortable. He snored lightly from the passenger seat. “What is it, Kitten?”
“Do you know if Nat has been arrested?”
Ben softened. Kitten’s obvious worry for her friend trumped his irritation with everything else in the whole world. “I talked to Chase a couple of hours ago. She was brought in for questioning, but she hasn’t been arrested yet.”
Heavy emphasis on the yet. Chase had seemed fairly sure Kitten’s friend had done the deed. Of course with Chase that didn’t mean a damn thing. If he decided it would be more fun to cover for the chick, he would do it. Ben had gotten every bit of morality between them. Chase often viewed life as one big game, and the people around them were simply chess pieces for his amusement.
“Kitten—I don’t believe Nat killed this man.”
It was sweet, but he had to look at the evidence. “I hope not.”
“Nat would have just gutted the man and called the police.” Kitten sat back. Through the rearview mirror, he could see the stubborn set of her jaw. Kitten still struggled with being assertive, but she held her own much better than she had a month ago. “I’ve seen Nat kill a man. She wouldn’t hide it.”
Kitten had been through a lot, but she hadn’t seen the things Ben had. Natalie Buchanan could have snapped. He wouldn’t blame her if she had, but he had a job to do. “We’ll see, Kitten.”
“Yes, murder,” Georgia continued. “I’m totally working a freaking murder case. Can you believe it? I’m totally an investigator now.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He should have left her behind in Dallas. The last thing he needed was Georgia trying to help.
“I’m not sure allowing your sister to investigate Nat’s case is a good idea, Sir.”
Yes, Kitten was showing marked signs of improvement. Ben turned down the long circular drive. He needed to find Chase and figure out what they were going to do with the brat. Chase was better at running people off than Ben was.
A high-pitched giggle came out of Georgia’s mouth, and she slapped at her knee. “You’re so totally right. I’m like one of those Charlie’s Angels. I’m totally the blonde one.”
Ben stopped the car and a staff of valets descended. Logan opened his eyes, stretching his lanky body. “You’ve been a huge help, Logan.”
The kid frowned. “Do you want me to help?”
“Well, I didn’t bring you along for my health.”
Logan got out of the car and stopped the valet who was trying to open Georgia’s door. “Please, allow me.”
Ben got out of the car, helping Kitten. The night was utterly peaceful with the singular exception of Georgia’s ongoing, never-ending recitation of everything that happened to her from the airplane to the diner to the SUV not having satellite radio. Ben looked out over the grounds. A large lake with a lighted fountain was to his left. It was the kind of thing that would be nice to walk around with a sweet woman, talking and enjoying the night. That wasn’t going to happen.
Georgia didn’t even look at Logan as he reached in to help her out. “Yeah, there’s another guy. Uhm, no, not with a ten-foot pole. No, he’s from that little town in Colorado. I know. I kind of thought it was a myth, too. Like who lives in Colorado?”
Logan smiled at her, helped her down, and took her phone and launched it in a perfect spiral throw straight into the lake.
Georgia’s eyes got wide, her mouth dropped open, but for once absolutely nothing came out.
Logan yawned again before giving Ben a little pat on the back. “There. I helped.”
Kitten grinned up at Logan, threading her arm through his. “Sir is very good at throwing phones.”
Logan winked down at her. “Sir is very sick of listening to idiocy. Sir wanted to sleep, but he got to listen to California girl over there prove you really can waste money on a college education. Now, it’s time for Kitten’s feeding. Let’s get you something to eat, sweetheart, and then we’ll check out the dungeon in this place.”
Georgia sputtered behind Logan. “How could you do that?”
Logan never looked back. “It was easy, darlin’. I put my arm back and threw. That’s what they teach us boys in Colorado. You can swim and get it if you like, but I’ll just throw it again. Learn some manners, little girl.”
Okay. He liked the kid.
“You have to fire him, Benny. He’s horrible.” She crossed her arms over her chest before turning her face up and giving him puppy dog eyes. “Benny, I need a little money so I can replace my phone.”
And ruin all of Logan’s good work? “Not a chance. You want a phone? Get a job, Georgie. And you’re bunking with Logan and Kitten. I hope you like the couch. Welcome to my world.”
He walked into the lobby, a rich confection of elegance and Western design. A well-dressed young man waited on him.
“Mr. Dawson, my name is Chris. Here’s the key to your room. Your brother assures me the Internet connection is fine. It’s all he really cared about. Hopefully you’ll appreciate the thousand-thread-count sheets, designer décor, and in-room hot tub.”
That was Chase. He’d already pissed off the staff. Ben gave Chris his smoothest smile. “The resort is gorgeous. I can’t thank you enough for accommodating us on such short notice. Could you tell me where my brother is?”
“Of course. He’s in the dungeon.”
Well that didn’t take long. “I don’t suppose I can just walk down there like this?”
“Fet wear only, Mr. Dawson. I had a set of leathers placed in your locker. Feel free to change.”
Ben sighed. He was dead tired, but he needed to talk to Chase. “Thank you. Please have the luggage sent up to our room. And any minute now a ball of chaos and tears is going to walk through that door. It’s my sister. Feel free to put her in a closet if she misbehaves.”
He followed the signs to the dungeon. His long night wasn’t over yet.
* * * *
She’d made a horrible mistake. She knew it the minute she left the dungeon and walked into the women’s dressing room.
“Are you all right?” Gaby asked. She didn’t need to change. She ran the place, but she pulled off her daywear in exchange for a leather bustier. It looked like she and Cal would get in some play ton
ight.
“I wanted to sleep with him.” There. She’d said it. She’d just put it out there. She’d wanted to have sex with a guy she’d just met. She never did that. She didn’t even scene with a guy until she’d known him a couple of months and had him checked out.
But she wanted Sir. Dawson. Whatever his name was. She’d sat there cuddling with him and there was nothing she’d wanted more than to tilt her head up and hope he would kiss her.
Gaby’s eyes got wide. “Really? He’s so…weird.”
Yes, he’d been weird. He’d been awkward at times. After he’d held her for the longest time, he’d been right back to that cold, distant Dom he’d been in the first place, but she saw through that now. It was his mask. She wore one, too, but he’d let her in by sitting there and holding her, his big, strong hands smoothing back her hair. “I like him.”
“Okay. You know I’ve really heard his brother is nicer.”
Nat didn’t want nice. She wanted awkward. And she wanted to know what his tattoo meant. He’d had one on his chest, just under his vest. An eagle and some other stuff. She hadn’t gotten to really look at it. She’d been too busy nuzzling him and feeling safer than she had in forever.
It didn’t make a lick of sense, but it was true. And she wanted to touch him, to kiss him, and to see if she could do this thing. Sex. Damn it. She wanted sex, and she’d been too afraid to ask for it.
“I want him. But I don’t think I should want him.” Misery washed over her. He could be gone tomorrow. “Do you think he’s here with a sub?”
“I can assure you he doesn’t have a submissive. I don’t know much about him, but Julian told me he’s incredibly intelligent and well trained as a Dom. He takes it seriously. I don’t know that he takes sex very seriously. Julian did say he hasn’t been in a real relationship the whole time he’s known him.”
So he was available and not that into commitment. That wasn’t such a bad thing. It wasn’t like she wanted to marry him or anything. She just wanted to experiment a little.