by M. S. Parker
“I love it,” I said, squeezing his hand. “I explored a bit on Christmas,” I admitted.
“And?” He sipped at his drink.
“It's clear you had a hand in decorating it,” I said. “Most single men who hire an interior designer only care about their electronics. They don't really take an interest in making sure the furniture and artwork match their personality.”
One corner of his mouth curved up in a half-smile. “You think this matches my personality?”
I nodded. “Either you helped pick it out or your interior designer knows you really well.” I felt an unfounded flare of jealousy at the thought that someone else would know him well enough to see any of this.
He let go of my hand and reached up to tuck a wayward chunk of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering near my cheek. “I love that you know me well enough to see that.”
A warmth that had nothing to do with the fire went through me. I turned my head and pressed my lips against the palm of his hand. He took a step towards me, closing the distance between us, and bent his head. The kiss was soft and left the taste of wine on my lips.
“I'm glad you agreed to come,” he said.
“Me too.” As scared as I was of getting too involved too fast, I couldn't deny that I wanted to be here, with him, as often as possible. I sometimes needed time alone, but I'd felt that desire less and less since I'd been with Rylan. I thought it would probably go away the longer we were together, this need to be with him, be around him, but so far it hadn't.
We stood there in silence, listening to the crackle of the fire, feeling the heat on our faces, neither of us moving until Rylan's phone buzzed. He glanced down at it.
“Dinner's ready,” he said. He grinned at me as he put his phone back in his pocket. “I figured I'd need to set an alarm so I didn't get distracted and let everything burn. I'd rather not have the fire department make a visit tonight.”
I laughed as I walked with him back towards the kitchen. Instead of taking me there, however, he led me into the dining room. I made a soft sound of surprise as we entered the room. The table in here was large, meant for hosting dinner parties and that sort of thing, but the two places that had been set were at the same end, one at the head of the table, the other to its left. The lights had been dimmed so the candles that ran down the center of the table glowed brightly. In the very center of the table was a vase of roses, half a deep, rich red, the other half the purest white.
“This is beautiful,” I said. I pushed myself up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
“Take a seat and I'll get the food.”
“I can help.”
He shook his head. “I want you to sit down and let me bring in the food.” He kissed my forehead. “Me taking care of you, remember?”
I glared at him, but there was no malice behind it and he knew it. He gestured towards the table.
“Go. Sit.”
I sighed. I recognized that stubborn set to his jaw. He wasn't going anywhere until I did as he said. I walked over to the table and sat down in the chair to the left of the head of the table. The china was beautiful, with an intricate pattern of leaves and vines around the edge. The silverware was real silver and, from the looks of it, quite old. I suddenly felt very underdressed.
“Here we go.” Rylan came in pushing a little silver cart that I immediately realized matched the silverware.
“Well, if I would've known you had one of those, I wouldn't have even offered to help,” I teased.
“The story goes,” he said. “One of my ancestors on my mother's side came to America when they were still colonies. She was engaged to someone high up in the British army. An arranged marriage. When she got here, she found that he was a despicable man, always spending time in the brothels and such.” He smiled as he put a tray of roasted chicken breast on the table. A bowl of steamed vegetables followed. “Two days before the wedding, she ran off with a colonist she'd fallen in love with, but she wasn't able to take the silver with her. It stayed with the British soldier until several years later when her colonist husband, now a member of the Union army, ransacked the place and took it back. It's been handed down to the firstborn ever since.” He set a basket of rolls down and then took a seat.
“That's some story,” I said.
He topped off our wine and then reached for the knife to carve the chicken. “It is. I've always wanted to research it, see how much is truth and how much is legend. Coming from my mother's side, it's hard to tell if they were just making it up so they sounded like they came from British high society, forced to give up privilege for love.”
I spooned some vegetables onto my plate. “So your mom's family's from England?”
I'd always been fascinated by the subject of genealogy. I supposed a lot of kids like me were. Kids who either didn't know their parents at all or whose parents weren't worth knowing. I had one of each. Once, a couple years back, I'd tried using my mother's name to see if I could locate any family on her side. I hadn't found anything under the name she'd used when I'd been a kid, but when I'd tried to use the name on my birth certificate, I'd gotten the same results, which made me suspect that even that had been fake.
“More or less,” he said. “I had to do a whole project on it for one of my classes. Mom's family pretty much came from the UK. English, a little Welsh and Irish mixed in. I think there was a German ancestor in there somewhere, and one from some part of Scandinavia. Holland, I believe.”
“And your dad?” I asked, reaching for a roll.
“Mostly from Northern Italy on his mother's side. English and Scottish on his dad's. His paternal grandmother came directly from Russia though.” Rylan thoughtfully chewed on a piece of chicken. “Rumor had it her family had something to do with the government so they had to come here, change their last name and everything.”
“It must be nice,” I said softly. “Having that much family history.”
He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I could help you look for yours if you want.”
I shook my head. “Won't do any good. I don't think my mom used her real name, and I don't know who my dad is. I'd needed to get into the city's files to see if her name showed up as an alias, but it didn't seem worth the risk. And I wasn't about to talk to the cops in Florida again. Other than Lily, they'd treated me like shit.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again, as if he wasn't sure his input would be welcome.
“What is it?”
“Have you thought about asking someone to run your DNA through the system? You might get a hit from either or both of your parents. I have friends in the Fort Collins police department who owe me a favor.”
My smile was sad. “Thank you, Rylan, but I don't think that's a good idea. I'd rather not know if my father's in jail for drugs or something like that. I gave up having a family a long time ago.”
His fingers tightened around mine. “You have me.” His voice was firm. “And I'm not going anywhere.”
I raised our hands and kissed his knuckles. The moment had become thick with emotion and I worked to bring it back to something lighter. “The food's delicious.”
He smiled and I could see that he knew what I was doing. He didn't call me on it though. “I'll be sure to let the chefs know.” He released my hand and went back to his meal.
We ate in silence for a while, but it wasn't awkward. I appreciated the food and being able to relax in the safety of this place. Rylan looked as if he was lost in his own thoughts. I was curious as to what they were, but didn't pry. He respected my privacy and I respected his.
When we both finished, he took our plates back to the kitchen, again telling me to stay in the dining room, and then returned with two slices of chocolate cheesecake.
“I've been thinking,” he said after having made it halfway through his cheesecake. “I know we haven't been together long, but this thing between us, this connection, it's so strong.” He paused, his eyes moving to my face. “At least, I feel like that.”
“I do too.” I gripped my fork tighter, wondering where he was going with this.
“And I worry about you,” he said, leaning forward. He took my hands in his, dessert forgotten. “I hate the thought of you in that apartment, alone. And with Christophe getting out on bail, it's going to be worse.”
“Rylan, I'm fine,” I started to say.
“But I'm not.” His expression was earnest. “Every night since...every night you've gone back to your apartment, I haven't been able to sleep. You're the strongest person I know, but the thought of something happening to you...” His voice trailed off and some strong emotion passed over his face. “I want you to move in with me.”
I stared at him, sure I must have heard him wrong. We'd met four months ago but hadn't officially become a couple until just before Thanksgiving. It was mid-January now. The only family of his I'd even met was Suzette and I knew she didn't like me. Moving in with him wouldn’t do anything to endear me to her or anyone else.
“If it's too soon, I understand,” he said hurriedly. “I don't want to rush you and I won't be offended if you don't feel the same way.”
“Rylan.” I stopped him before he could go any further. “Being worried about me isn't a good reason for us to move in together.” I struggled to keep my face blank. I couldn't let him see how much I wanted to do this. Not because I was scared of being alone or because I thought I needed him to protect me. I wanted to be here. With him.
He shook his head. “If all I wanted was to make sure you were safe, I'd ask you to stay in the guest room until you found a better, safer place.” He slid from his chair down onto his knees so that he was right in front of me. “Jenna, I want to wake up next to you. I want to come home each night with you at my side and know that we're going to fall asleep together.” He kissed my hands. “I know this is fast and I don't want to scare you, but what I feel for you...” He paused, searching for the right words. “It's the strongest thing I've ever felt in my life.”
I swallowed hard, a lump in my throat. My eyes burned with tears. How could I say no when he put it like that? It was everything I'd been feeling but hadn't wanted to say for fear that he'd think I was moving too fast.
“Say something,” he said. “Please, you're killing me here. Just tell me no and we'll forget all about it, but please just say something.”
I answered before I could second guess myself, knowing that was the only way I could get it out. “Yes.” I nodded. “Yes, I'll move in with you.”
Chapter 27
Dessert went back in the fridge and we went upstairs. There was a new sort of anticipation between us. I'd known when I'd come here that we'd be having sex tonight, but now that knowledge had a new weight to it. This wasn’t sex for a single night. I wouldn’t be staying over and then going back to my own place, wondering when we'd spend the night together again. This would be the first of many nights here. We hadn't yet decided on a specific time that I'd be moving in, but knowing it was there in the immediate future was enough.
He went into the bedroom first, carrying my bag with him. He set it down next to the bed and gestured towards the dresser. “I cleared out the right side as well as half the closet. You can put what you brought in there. If you want,” he added the last bit almost as an afterthought.
I shook my head and his face fell, but only until I spoke, “I don't want to unpack. I want to play.”
Heat flooded his eyes and they flicked towards the bed.
“Not here,” I continued. “The playroom.” I hesitated and then added, “Our playroom?” I hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but now that it had, there was no taking it back.
“Yes.” His voice was rough, as if that single word had hit him. “Our house. Our bedroom. Our everything.”
I held out my hand and he took it. “Then I want to go to our playroom.” A combined thrill of anxiety and excitement raced up my spine. “There are two things I want you to do to me.”
His fingers flexed against mine. “What?”
I'd been considering both of these things for a while and tonight was the perfect time to do them. A way to make this even more special.
“I want you to blindfold me.” My stomach flipped at the thought and then did it again at what I was going to say next. “And I want you to use a flogger on me.”
“Jenna.” My name came out in half-moan. “Love, you don't have to do this.”
“I know,” I said, stepping closer to him. “I want to.” I put our joined hands over his heart and tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering about inside me. “Just not at the same time. I don't think I could handle that. Not yet.”
He nodded, his expression serious as he studied my face. “You'll stop me if it's too much?”
“Yes.” I kissed his jaw, the light scruff there rough against my lips.
I felt his desire coming off of him in waves and, for a moment, I thought he would take me right there. His self-control was remarkable though and he didn't even kiss me. Instead, he led me down the hall to his playroom. Our playroom.
Once inside, the tension between us shifted.
“Take off your sweater and jeans.”
I didn't have to look at Rylan to know he was in Dom mode. I stripped off my clothes and wished I'd been wearing something special rather than just a pair of plain cotton panties and a matching bra. At least I'd worn something with color. The soft, dove gray was almost the same shade as my eyes.
Rylan pulled his shirt over his head, leaving his hair attractively tousled as he tossed the shirt on the floor. I greedily ran my eyes over his body. I could never get enough of him. Never tire of looking at him. I watched as he walked over to one of the chests of drawers that sat against the right wall. He opened the top drawer, looked inside for a moment and then closed it. Without a word, he opened the second drawer and rummaged through that one. This time, he pulled something out. It was a strip of what looked like silk. Black and long enough to be used as some sort of restraint. It was also wide so that, as he folded it, it became too thick to see through.
“I'm going to blindfold you,” he said. “Strip you. Touch you.” His voice lowered into a near-whisper. “Make you come.”
I shivered even though the room was warm.
“Then I'm going to take off the blindfold so you can see what's coming next.” He gestured towards the wall where myriad whips, floggers and canes hung. “I'm going to use one of those on you, teach you how to find pleasure in the sting of leather on your skin.”
Fuck. I took a shuddering breath.
“And then I'm going to fuck you.” He was right in front of me now, close enough to feel his body heat. “Hard.”
I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak.
“Let's begin.”
He circled around behind me and my heart began to pound, half anticipation, half nerves. I wanted to turn with him so I could see him, but I didn't. My hands curled into fists as the blindfold slipped over my eyes. My chest tightened as he tied the strip of cloth.
“Yellow,” I whispered.
“Do you want me to take it off?” He instantly shifted back to normal.
“No.” I shook my head. “I just need a minute before you touch me. Talk to me.”
“I won't do anything until you say it's okay.” His voice had a soothing tone. “It's just me here. Only me.” He was close behind me, but not touching me, just like he'd promised. “It'll be my hands, remember. My mouth. Focus on that. On my voice. I'll take care of you, but you can stop it any time you want.”
I felt the heat of him against my arm, like he had his hand hovering just over my skin but was keeping his word.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmured. “Let me give you what you need.”
The tension in my body suddenly left and I nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?” There was an authoritative edge to the words, not quite his Dom voice, but almost. He was waiting for me to say it.
“Touch me.”
I let out a breath as his
hand slid down my arm, caressing from shoulder to wrist. It was different than before, when I'd had my eyes closed. Now, it didn't matter if I opened my eyes or not. It was still dark. The only way I could see again was to stop it or wait until he removed the blindfold.
“I'm going to take you over to the bed now.” He started walking us forward, slowly guiding me in the right direction.
After several steps, we stopped and he turned me around.
“Take a step back.”
I did and felt the bed against the back of my legs.
His lips brushed against my jaw, then moved down my neck. I moaned at the light touch, my skin tingling. His fingers danced up my arms and then around my back. The clasps of my bra presented little challenge and then it was gone. His hands were hot as they cupped my breasts, lightly squeezing, thumbs teasing my nipples. I moaned as the sensitive skin hardened under his expert touch.
“So responsive.”
I cried out as he took my nipple into his mouth. It was so hot, so wet. And when he began to suck on it, each pull went straight south, making me instantly wet. It was insane how much more sensitive things felt when I couldn't see him. I knew what he'd look like, his dark hair against my fair skin. The shape of his mouth as it formed around my nipple. Knowing and not seeing it somehow made it more erotic.
“Sit down.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and felt his hands at my waist. I raised my hips as he pulled my panties down and set them aside. His hands moved to my knees, gently parting them until I felt a cool breeze against my moist flesh.
“I love how wet you get for me.”
He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of my thigh and I whimpered, needing him higher. He chuckled and then his mouth was on me. I leaned back, taking my weight on my hands as he cupped my ass, holding me in place as he licked across my sensitive folds. The tip of his tongue circled my entrance, dipping inside to tease me. I moaned, the sound growing louder as he moved higher to flick across my clit.