Israel

by Avery Gale

  “Oh, dear. I recognize that look. A sub who’s had too much alcohol and just stepped off a bridge into shit up to their eyeballs.” As usual, Asia Adler had summed things up perfectly. Her knack for cutting to the bottom line was just one of the reasons her reputation as Adler Oil’s legal eagle was well earned. Bristol’s gaze jerked to Franklin Cordesi, before turning to Asia. “Girl, you are too impaired to be pulling a tiger’s tail. Let me give you a bit of free legal advice. Stop talking. Don’t apologize because he isn’t going to buy it.”

  Bristol stared up at Asia, who was standing beside their table. Blinking slowly once, then again, trying to bring the second oldest Adler into focus, Bristol wondered how long they’d been standing there.

  Asia switched her attention to Israel, her eyes narrowing enough to let him know she wasn’t pleased. The two of them had always been close. Asia was one of the few people whose opinion of him mattered—usually, he let criticism roll off like water on a duck’s back.

  Rein in your temper, Israel. She’s new. It doesn’t matter she’s been a member of the club for a while—she hasn’t played enough to understand one of the nuances of submitting to your Dom is asking for his help.

  “Cara, you know the rules.” Franklin didn’t like his wife communicating telepathically in private—it didn’t matter she was reading Israel the riot act. Cordesi had lived all over the world, but hints of his upper-crust upbringing only made their way to the surface when he was dealing with Asia. Israel joked, coping with her required so much focus, Franklin wasn’t able to monitor his tells. His brother-in-law had simply nodded his agreement.

  Bristol picked up her empty margarita glass and licked the rim to get the last drop, making everyone laugh. Israel wasn’t sure if she’d been trying to break the tension or get the waiter’s attention. He shook his head and set the glass back on the table.

  “No more for you, Beautiful. I suspect you aren’t going to feel so frisky in the morning. It’s time to get you home.” He tossed more than enough cash on the table to cover the tab and a generous tip before pulling Bristol to her feet. She swayed, making her mutter a few words he planned to eliminate from her vocabulary. Turning to his family, he cautioned Bronx and Cat to be careful with their investigation.

  “Thanks for babysitting me today, Bronx. You’re a sweetheart.”

  Israel reminded himself it was his own fault his mate spent the day bonding with his brother. Their friendship was harmless, and the bond was beneficial for several reasons, but her words still sent jealousy rocketing through him.

  “Holy hand-painted horny toads, did you just growl at me? It’s not nice to growl at people, Israel. It makes them think they’ve done something wrong when they haven’t.” She hiccupped and had the good sense to appear at least marginally contrite. “I learned that in Psychology 101, and there was a refresher chapter in Social Psychology. Let me guess, you skipped as many humanities classes as possible.”

  “Oh, hell, I like her. I like her a lot.” Catalina took a sip of her wine, then lifted the glass into the air, toasting the curvy beauty leaning against him.

  Cat had seemed distracted when he picked her up, and Israel caught her checking her phone several times during dinner. She hadn’t spoken to anyone or replied to any messages, so he assumed whoever she was waiting to hear from hadn’t contacted her. Israel presumed Cooper Hicks was the culprit, but he wasn’t going to get involved unless she asked for his help.

  “Doms are always preaching, begin as you intend to go, and I say subs need to do the same. If you start tolerating growly behavior, you’ll be stuck putting up with that crap forever. Don’t let him start disappearing in the middle of the night, either.”

  Israel was surprised by Cat’s comment. He’d never heard her make any observation—positive or negative—about the lifestyle, but it was her remark about disappearing in the middle of the night he found disturbing. Damn it all to hell, just when he’d vowed to not get involved.

  I’ll talk to her. Take your mate home, she needs some serious pampering and rest.

  Israel knew Bronx was right. Pampering and rest were on the agenda—right after he introduced her to the joys of erotic spanking. Bristol might appear relaxed, courtesy of Jose Cuervo, but he could feel the spring inside her winding tighter and tighter. He planned to give her a more satisfying way to relieve the stress, he knew would make them both happy.

  Chapter Eleven

  Bristol took Israel’s outstretched hand, letting him help her from the car. The drive from the steak house to Adler Oil wasn’t long, but the cooler night air sobered her enough, she knew better than to insist on doing everything herself. He no longer appeared angry, but his rigid posture and the tight set of his jaw told her Israel wasn’t in the mood for arguments. He led her into the elevator, tapped in the code giving him access to the private floor where his suite was located, then pinned her against the mirrored wall.

  Shackling her wrists above her head with one hand, he used the index finger of his free hand to draw a line along the underside of her jaw. Goosebumps raced up her arms as she felt her nipples draw into tight peaks. Moisture warmed her sex, and someone moaned—it might have been her. He pressed his knee between her thighs, putting enough pressure on her clit to tease, but not enough to push her over.

  “You’re so responsive. Seeing the way your body reacts to my touch is so fucking hot.” The elevator door slid open, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to exit. Pressing a button on the control panel, he locked the door open and grinned. “We have two minutes before the alarm sounds. Let’s not waste it.” His lips sealed over hers, firm and demanding with a note of tenderness that touched her soul. Desire moved through her in a rolling wave more devastating than she could have imagined. When she tried to tilt her hips forward, the damned man chuckled.

  “As much as I want you, I’m not fucking you until we’ve had a chat about expectations. Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to taking you to the club and showing you off—all in good time, Beautiful.”

  Expectations? Good grief. She would be happy to tell him what she’d expected—relief from the fire he’d stoked. Damn, what was the point of getting her all excited, then shutting her down?

  The only reason any man will ever want you is for your brain because nobody is going to give two shits about your fat ass, girl.

  Bristol heard her mother’s words play in her mind, just as they had any time one of the Doms at the club asked her to play. Taking a deep breath, Bristol nodded, stepping behind the emotional wall she’d learned to erect as a child. The barrier was bulletproof and always protected her from the emotional badgering she’d endured until she’d become so focused on building her medical practice, there hadn’t been any time for other people’s nonsense.

  Bristol heard a disembodied voice warning them the elevator would notify the local authorities in thirty seconds, but she was too busy reminding herself, she shouldn’t be surprised to care. The walk down the hall to his suite felt more like a trip to the gallows, and she found herself slowing until Israel finally wrapped his hand around hers to pull her along.

  “As soon as the door closes behind us, I want you naked.”

  Seriously? What the hell? Shutting me out a couple of minutes ago wasn’t enough, he’s going for round two?

  Israel wanted to track down the asshole who’d destroyed his mate’s confidence. He knew she had faith in her professional abilities, but she was fucking clueless about how much he wanted her. Banking his frustration, Israel was determined to give his mate what she needed rather than what she’d wanted in the elevator. If he’d taken her there, she’d have dismissed it as nothing more than lust, and in the process, written him off as a mate.

  “Bristol, the door is closed, why aren’t you naked?” Her startled expression told him she hadn’t believed he was serious. She’d soon learn he always meant what he said during a scene. When they were simply enjoying each other’s company in a casual setting, Israel could tease with the be
st of them. As a Dom, he kept his comments as open and honest as possible. Safe, Sane, and Consensual might be the guiding tenet of the BDSM lifestyle, but trust was the foundation solid D/s relationships were built on.

  “Could we turn the lights down?” Or Off? Off would be better.

  Israel wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a submissive strip slower than Bristol was moving. It had taken her a full thirty seconds to toe-off her shoes, for Goddess’ sake.

  “No, Beautiful. I want to be able to see every inch of your lovely body. As your mate and Dom, it’s my right and privilege to look at what belongs to me.” He took a step back, spread his feet shoulder-width apart, crossing his arms over his well-muscled chest. The pose was unmistakably dominant, the shift in body language, sending a message no trained submissive would miss.

  “Geez, Louise, I should have had another margarita.”

  Israel bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing out loud at Bristol’s muttered words. She might think the extra drink would have given her more courage, but he knew better. Another drink and he’d have had to carry her out of the steakhouse, and they wouldn’t be playing. Bristol’s mind was questioning the sincerity of his attraction, but thankfully, her body was miles ahead of the game.

  “Stop thinking and move, Beautiful. My plans for tonight do not include punishment, so get your lovely ass in gear.” Israel looked forward to seeing her bare derriere lying over his lap, cheeks blushing under his hand. He hoped Bristol would be brave enough to skate along the fine line between pleasure and pain. Not all submissives understood the sensations were two sides of the same coin, but for those who got it, their sexual pleasure was magnified exponentially. In the future, he wouldn’t allow her to dawdle, but tonight, he was having fun watching her pull strength from within to face her insecurities.

  Blowing out a breath when she was finally undressed, Bristol kept her eyes on her pink-tipped toes. Refusing to look him in the eye was just another way to hide, and he wasn’t going to allow it. Bristol needed to see the appreciation he knew was shining in his eyes. Damn, the woman was a fucking goddess, and she had no clue.

  “Eyes on me, Beautiful.” Bristol lifted her face so slowly, he swore he needed photos to be sure she was moving. Nodding his approval when she finally met his gaze, he was grateful he’d forced the issue. Her quick inhalation was all the reassurance he needed—his mate had seen herself through his eyes for the first time. When she blushed, he shook his head.

  “I love the way your expression tells me what you’re thinking. As tantalizing as I find the pink flush on your cheeks, I won’t tolerate you being embarrassed about your body. I want you to see yourself as I see you.”

  Their telepathic connection was growing stronger by the hour. The deeper he could forge the bond between them, the sooner he’d be able to claim her. Israel could hardly wait for the moment she tilted her head to the side, signally she was ready to be his. The two puncture wounds from his bite would heal under the lap of his tongue, sealing closed immediately, leaving behind small round scars most people would never notice, and even fewer would correctly identify.

  The exchange of their DNA would bring significant enhancement to both of their magical skills. He’d be able to track her anywhere in the world and would instinctively know if she was in danger. Mating affected shifter pairs in different ways, some more significantly than others. He couldn’t wait to find out what changes were in store for them.

  “Turn around, face the window, spread your feet as far apart as you can comfortably, and lace your fingers together at the back of your head.” She moved into position quickly, but the alcohol made it difficult to move her feet as far apart as he suspected she would be able to manage without Jose’s help.

  “Gorgeous.” Using his finger, he traced an invisible line from her shoulder down, curving around to her upper ribs, continuing slowly to her waist. Israel opened his hand, pressing his warm palm over Bristol’s silky skin, letting the pads of his fingers press firmly against her as he fanned her lush curves.

  “I love your curves. You are real and perfect. The thought of holding a stick in my arms holds no appeal. Most of the men I know prefer women who are rounded and pillowy soft as we push ourselves in as deep as our cocks can go. Feeling your breasts flatten against my chest when my cock is buried to the hilt will be one of my greatest joys. Knowing those breasts will one day feed our children adds more to the attraction than you know. I guarantee, my brother watches Charlotte nurse their child every chance he gets. It’s an intimate pleasure he won’t want to share with anyone else, not because he is ashamed or embarrassed, but because it’s his alone.”

  Moving his hand to cup the underside of her breast, Israel brushed his thumb over the tip of her nipple.

  “Look at how your body responds to my touch. There is nothing better. Bristol, you have no idea how perfect you are for me. Fate doesn’t make mistakes. I know the timing doesn’t always make sense to us—it isn’t always convenient—but it’s always right.”

  Bristol’s thoughts had been spinning so fast, Israel had barely been able to catch a word here and there. Her mind was bouncing ideas around like a steel ball in the old-fashioned pinball machines he’d enjoyed so much as a kid—every thought remaining unfocused until he mentioned timing. One word brought it all to a halt. Bristol zeroed in on his comment, trying to find a way around his observation without success. He could tell she wasn’t convinced but couldn’t come up with a valid argument.

  “Why me? You could have any woman you wanted.” Technically, her comment wasn’t that far off the mark. He’d had plenty of women over the years. Israel could walk into any bar in the city and leave with the woman of his choice. He shook his head and smiled.

  “You may be a shifter, but you seem to be awfully naïve about the way things work. You and Denali are cut from the same cloth, baby. She’s been thrown into the deep end of learning, too. It’ll be a remarkably interesting conversation, but we’re saving it for another day.” He didn’t plan to waste this time with her, chit-chatting about his newest sister-in-law.

  “Come.” Taking her hand, Israel led Bristol around the end of one of the designer sofas in the living room. Who on earth thought that thing would be relaxing to sit on? He’d enjoyed sitting on park benches more than the uncomfortable, overpriced piece of designer furniture. Picking up the chair he planned to use, Israel deliberately set it, so his right side was toward the large sliding glass doors leading to the deck.

  “What is your safe word, Bristol?” To her credit, she didn’t pretend the question had been unclear.

  “Red, Sir.” She’d answered with enough bravado to make him wonder if it was sincere or alcohol-fueled. I guess we’ll see soon enough.

  “I don’t believe you’ll need it, but it’s an important reminder for both of us. People sometimes have triggers they aren’t aware of, things that send them reeling physically or emotionally. If you find yourself approaching one of those points, say yellow. I’ll stop, and we’ll talk about what’s happening, giving you an opportunity to tell me what part of our scene you’re struggling with. I may completely stop, or change things up, or in some cases I will simply continue on. But, I promise to listen to your concerns with an open mind. If the situation is too much for you and you know it will be impossible for you to go forward, say red. Your safe word will always work.” Always.

  “Tell me you understand, Beautiful.”

  “I understand, Sir. Yellow for slow down and red for stop.”

  Israel loved the airy tone her voice had taken on. Getting her in the right headspace was critical to the success of the scene he planned. Brilliant women were both a joy and a challenge to their Doms. Helping them escape their racing minds, even if the reprieve was brief, was described by subs as the greatest gift they ever received. Dominants lucky enough to top those women cherished the gift of their sub’s trust. Making your way into those gifted minds wasn’t easy, but the rewards were enormous.

  “I want to
try an experiment, Beautiful. Let’s see how your body responds to erotic spanking.” Without giving her time to protest, Israel pulled her over his lap, peaking her bare ass in position for his palm to land in heated strokes. She sucked in a breath, preparing to protest when he cut it off with two solid swats, designed to get her attention but not hurt. “Before you complain, stop and think about what you’re feeling. Don’t listen to your head—tune out the voice telling you what you should be feeling and listen closely to what your body is saying.”

  Two more swats on each cheek were all he managed before the musky scent of her arousal filled the air. Perfect. Upping the intensity each time his palm landed on her beautiful ass, he felt her relax a little more. This woman was made for him. Slipping his fingers between her thighs, Israel was thrilled to find her soaked.

  “It’s going to be damned hard to convince me you aren’t enjoying this, Bristol. You’re fucking drenched, and I couldn’t be happier.” Pushing two fingers into her vagina, Israel smiled to himself when her muscles tightened around him, pulling him deeper, trying to keep him from moving away.

  “Please.” The whispered plea was so faint, even with his enhanced hearing, Israel barely heard it. It was unlikely she’d meant to speak aloud, even less, she fully understood what she was asking for.

  “Tell me what you need, Beautiful.” He knew—hell, it was pulsing off her in delicious waves—but it was important for her to put her feelings into words. Verbalizing what her body craved would go a long way to her understanding how fulfilling submission could be. Israel loved watching the look of astonishment on a new submissive’s face when they discovered the pure pleasure they could find when they let their bodies lead. Social conventions were so narrow, those new to the lifestyle rarely understood how sweet pain could be.

  “More. I don’t know why. I’m not able to think enough to figure it out, but I know there has to be more.”