by Dark, Raven
His voice was soft and low in her ear, so tender it made her chest tighten. “It was a scene Gwen. It’s over.”
“It took everything just to yell at you.”
His hand stroked her hair. “I know. It takes time. But you did it. We need to start somewhere. You took the first step, standing up for yourself.” His breath fanned her ear. “You did good.”
The praise melted her heart, warmed the chill that threatened to overtake her. Archer wasn’t big on praise. The finality in his worlds sank in. She lifted her head. “We don’t have to do this anymore?”
“For tonight, it’s over, yes.” He wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. “I can’t push you too far this soon, or you’ll break. This is a process. The kind of assertiveness you showed at the end needs to become second nature. You need to always know you have the right to stand up for yourself. Today you only did it when I really backed you into a corner.”
“I know. I…”
“No. Don’t apologize. Look at me.” He lifted her chin. “You did well. It’s a start.”
Gwen gave a small nod. He rubbed her arms.
“You know I don’t really think of you as a coward or a weakling, right?”
“I know, Sir.”
“Good.” He ran his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away her tears. She smiled up at him. How could he still think he wasn’t good at the softer stuff?
Archer’s eyes fixated on her mouth and his arm slid around her shoulders. Her heart hammered. Was he going to…?
Then he drew back a little and cleared his throat. A stunning grin crossed his face. “Come here, little one.” Archer scooped her up in his arms so suddenly she whooped. Then, pressing her into his hard, warm chest, he turned and carried her off the stage toward a couch in the corner.
* * *
Gwen let out a long, quiet breath as Archer’s warmth surrounded her, seeping into her muscles like a heated blanket. His arms cradled her like steel, wrapped under her knees and across her back. He carried her without effort, strides long and smooth, across the crowded club to a set of couches against the wall on the main floor.
She shouldn’t be like this with him, sitting in his arms as if she was his sub. Yet while he cradled her in his lap, she listened to the soft rumble of his voice as he spoke to the attendant about taking care of his bag. Nothing had ever felt so soothing.
“Archer, I think I should…”
His arms tightened around her when she tried to get out of his hold. “Not just yet, Gwen. The scene is over, but this part is just as critical. Let me take care of you.”
God, he made it so easy to forget what he was. Not a sensei, but a Dom. Her Dom, like she belonged to him. It felt so natural, every bit as much as his arms around her. She shouldn’t feel at home now. Not with him.
“Master… Sir. I don’t think…”
“Right. Good idea, don’t think. Come here.” He settled her head against his shoulder. When she remained tense, he sighed. “You need this, all right?”
Gwen huffed. This was highly inappropriate. Still, as he ran his hands through her long, thick hair, the soothing motions lulled the tension out of her. Her body shook, still wound up from the scene, but his embrace calmed her.
Her mind traveled over the scene, and slowly, everything that had happened came crashing in. A lump grew in her throat and her chest constricted. Emotions swirled, washing over her and she swallowed hard.
“Just relax. I’m not ready to let you go yet, little one.” His hands moved over her back. So soothing, so safe. Archer rested his cheek next to hers. So warm. The faint stubble tickled her cheek. His scent, male heat and some sort of woodsy, masculine soap, enveloped her.
Wait… Gwen lifted her head, blinking at him in the half-light of the club. He wasn’t ready to let her go. There’d been an urgency in his hushed voice. The gentleness in his eyes floored her. Deep pain bracketed those hard features, and, as he rubbed his hands over her back, through her hair, his breathing hitched and some of the rigidness left him.
Gwen stared. It couldn’t have been difficult for him to say the things he’d said to her, could it? He did it all the time, in class, with his other students. Not to the shredding degree he’d done it with her, but the same idea was there.
Archer caught her gaze on him and his mouth turned down, hands stilling on her arms. His face hardened, like a mask had been slammed into place.
“What?” Soft, but there was a defensiveness in his tone and he now sounded like her teacher again.
“Nothing, Sir.” She put her head on his shoulder, looking across the floor to the opposite wall at the large painting Nick had hung there. Focusing on the lines of the woman’s naked form, the supple curve of her hips, the hardness of her nipples, the erotic look on her face as she stroked herself. Not Gwen’s best work, but Nick had thought it a perfect fit.
Archer rubbed his cheek against her hair, settling more comfortably into the couch. “Tell me about the painting,” he rasped into her ear. “You did that one, right?”
“You noticed?” Her heart bounded. He couldn’t have seen the plaque on the wall below the painting from where they sat, so he must have stopped and looked close to see her name on it.
Damn. Other than her customers, no man except Nick had ever asked about her art. She’d taken great pains to hide it from her family, knowing they would see it as a waste of time, not to mention vulgar, considering the nature of the portraits she did. She’d never talked to anyone about it like this, like it mattered.
She looked at the painting. “You really want to hear this? You don’t seem the artsy-fartsy type, as my father would put it.”
“Respect, Gwen. We’re still here.”
“Sorry, Sir.”
“Better. And I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” His hand curled around her nape, gentle, warm, but firm, reinforcing his authority somehow.
“The woman is a Domme from here. She wanted a portrait that would make men who saw it want to be her subs. She was a lot of fun to do. Perfect lines, smooth skin, easy to capture.”
He ran his hands over her side, across her waist, over her generous ass, finally resting his palm on her hip. She squirmed.
“Did it work?”
“Yes, Sir, and it brings in the clients for me, too. People who see that portrait sometimes come to me asking me to do one for them.”
“It’s very good.”
Butterflies fluttered in her belly. “You’d better not let my father or Ace hear you say that, Sir.”
He quirked a brow.
“My father would probably try to make you do laps, like he used to do to my brothers. To toughen the sissy out of you. And Ace would never let you live it down.”
A deep laugh rumbled out of him. Then he shrugged. “You really think I give a rat’s ass what your family thinks?”
“Ace is your best friend.” She settled her arms around his neck.
“So?”
“So… I thought… I mean, you’re always going where he wants, doing what he likes. And you call my dad ‘sir’.”
Archer snorted. “Gwen. Ace and I go to games and bars for drinks cause we both like it. We go to the gym because we both like working out. I don’t do it for him, I do it for me. And I call your father sir because he’s a fuckin’ general. My dad was military, and so was I. It’s respect.”
Somehow it didn’t surprise her he had been military, too. His drill sergeant manner with his students made more sense now. “Which branch were you in?”
“I was a ranger.” He tapped her rump. “I won’t lie, I’m not big on the whole creative thing. I drew a face once and it looked like a hippopotamus.”
She giggled.
“But you like it, and I like knowing what you’re into.”
A trembling smile pulled at her lips. He really cared that much? She leaned against his shoulder. “Well. Just don’t tell my family about my paintings, okay? Promise me you won’t say anything, Sir.”
He scowled. “Your family d
oesn’t know about your art?”
“No, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Archer sighed through his nose, but ran his hand up her back to cup her nape. “All right, relax. My lips are sealed. But you should be proud of what you do. You won’t tell them you’re learning karate. Or that I’m teaching you, or about what’s going on with the stalker. Why?”
Shame pricked at her and Gwen sat up clearing her throat. “I think we’d better go, Sir.”
He shook his head, tightening his arms around her. “Just for that, we’ll stay here longer.” She made a face at him. “You don’t decide when things end, Gwen. I do.”
She pushed out a sigh even as a ripple of pleasure made her skin hum. She shouldn’t have wanted to be in his arms nearly so much. A desire to please him seemed to infuse every part of her. How could a man make things so simple, yet so confusing all at the same time?
Gwen begrudgingly snuggled back into his warmth and rested her head in the heated crook of his neck.
“Much better.” Archer rested his chin on top of her head and his palm cupped her hip, fitting it like a glove. It baffled her how small and fragile the swell of her hip felt in his palm. And that he seemed to like holding it. “You sit here like this until I let you up.”
Was he smiling? Damn him. He was her teacher, her brother’s best friend, and one of her father’s favorites. Worse, he was abrasive enough to give Ace lessons. He was the very last man she should want, but it didn’t stop her blood from heating at the authority in his words.
Could he make things any more complicated?
8
Awakening
Gwen groaned and rolled over in her bed. Mild pain pulled at her muscles, unaccustomed to the increasingly intense practice sessions with Archer. She smiled. The pain felt strangely comforting, a reminder of her progress.
Warm sunlight cast a pleasant glow over her bed, encouraging her to stay a little longer. Since it was her day off, she didn’t have anywhere to be until class that night. Heat spread through her at the thought of seeing Archer again. Damn. She needed to stop thinking of him like that.
She grabbed her Kindle. A few hours absorbed in a hot romance novel would get her mind off him.
A message dinged on the screen.
A gift for you. Hello, Gwen. You’ve received a Kindle book gift from Secret Admirer.
Ice poured into her veins. The same secret admirer who’d sent her the flowers?
Fingers trembling, she brought up the book. The title read, Miss Etiquette: A Guide to Proper Ladylike Behavior. Her eyes widened.
“What the hell?” She brought up the short message left with the book.
Sweet angel:
It’s clear you need a lesson on proper behavior. Since I can’t allow us to meet yet, and therefore can’t perform the lesson myself, this will have to do. I will not have you sullied by the demon. Consider your actions carefully before returning to that den of depravity. I don’t wish you harm.
Your Secret Admirer
All the sense of victory and accomplishment since the club last night seeped out of her.
By the “den of depravity,” she knew he meant the club. But by demon, did he mean Nick, or Archer? Archer had done the scene with her.
A shiver raced through her. There was no question how he knew she’d gone to the club. He followed her to and from work, so why not last night?
She glanced at the message again. A lesson on proper behavior. That could have implied her going to the club, but it could also have implied the scene she and Archer did.
Jesus, did he know what went on in the scene? Nothing in the message pointed to that specifically, and there was no way he could. The Sanctuary was an exclusive club that required a person to be vetted by two members, all of whom Nick carefully screened. Contrary to what Ace believed, the place wasn’t overrun with wackjobs and deviants.
Wait… the answer hit her in a wave of nausea. He would have had a good idea of what went on in the club if he’d been at the restaurant when she and Archer were talking about it. God, had the creep been sitting there, right at the next table? Listening?
Her stomach rolled over and Gwen bolted to the bathroom. She retched, then she marched to her nightstand and snatched up her phone. This had to stop.
She brought up Ace’s number. Then she stopped, finger on the button. He’d only blame her again. Was there even a way to prove the stalker had sent her the book? But then Ace likely wouldn’t look into it, and if what he’d told her before was true, no one else would either.
Helplessness threatened to swallow her. Gwen fisted her hands and stalked to her closet. She pulled out her gi, threw it on, and yanked the white belt into place on her waist.
In the mirror, Gwen went through the forms, shouting her kiais loud and strong. She went through them again and again until her whole body was soaked with sweat and her face was flushed. Her chest rose and fell, but she was a lot less winded than she would have been weeks ago.
“Come for me, you sick son of a bitch,” she muttered. “I’ll be ready.”
Archer stripped and flicked on the shower in his apartment. Another training session at the club, and an hour later the thought of Gwen’s soft body pressed into his lap still sent his blood pressure through the roof.
Fuck.
They’d been training two nights a week in the club for a couple of weeks now, and it hadn’t gotten easier. He kept imagining doing things to her that had nothing to do with assertiveness training or karate.
He’d added to her training. With them doing five nights a week between the dojo and the club, much of it with his hands all over her, the need for her was unbearable. How was he supposed to think of her as his student when every time he held her, it was all he could do not to kiss her?
The rush of pride in her he’d felt didn’t help. The woman was a swift study.
Recently, there’d been a determination in her he hadn’t seen previously. She still seemed skittish at the club, but he chalked that up to inexperience.
He’d wondered if the stalker had done something to trigger her renewed determination, but when he’d pressed her about it in class, she’d clammed up, saying little. He could feel the fear pounding off her, and it sent his protective instincts raging, but as her sensei, he couldn’t interfere. Nearly every day, he’d thought of calling her, stopping by her work or house, anything to protect her, but he knew he couldn’t. Not so long as she wasn’t his to protect. It killed him, but no matter how hard his mind screamed for him to find the guy himself and save her, he had to remain professional, distant. All he could do was be there, ready to help when she needed him.
Being in the club didn’t help his professionalism, either. Not when he found himself thinking of her as his sub. Not when he ached to possess her, to claim his rights to every part of her.
Archer put his head under the spray and the water ran down his chest, soaking his half-hard cock.
An image of Gwen standing before him filled his mind. That shy little smile, those stunning green eyes, those luscious curves, bared for his view as she waited for his orders.
“Take your hair down.”
The image of Gwen pulling the elastic from her bound hair filled his head, and those locks spilled down her back, around her shoulders in luxuriant auburn waves. Over her naked, plump breasts. God, she’s fucking beautiful.
In his mind, he reached out and pushed her hair aside, cupping one breast, flicking his thumb across her nipple until it hardened. She gave a sharp inhale.
He ran his hand through her hair to her nape. “On your knees.”
The image of Gwen lowered slowly to her knees in the tub. He guided her hand to his cock, making her grip him, stroking him, slow and long. So damn sweet. He wanted to know every inch of her, every thought, every dream she had, to feel every shudder of pleasure and know his touch caused it.
Jesus. He groaned. His fucking student, damn it, not to mention…
He turned, flicking the hot wat
er higher until it scalded. The water splashed onto his aching hardness and he gritted his teeth. He fisted his cock.
The trilling of his cell phone echoed through the bathroom.
“Son of a…”
Flicking off the shower and stepping out, he found the phone and looked at the number.
Ace. “Shit.” Any desire for Gwen fled instantly. Nothing like a call from her brother to remind him why the woman was off limits, for fucks sake.
“Hey, Ace. What’s up?”
“Hey. Where the hell have you been the last two weeks? I’ve been trying to call you.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve been busy.” He threw the phone on speaker and dried off before putting it to his ear again as he walked across his bedroom.
“With what, man? You’ve been acting weird. I haven’t been able to talk to you in class, and you’ve missed game night twice now.”
Shit, I have. He never let himself get this wrapped up in a woman before, and Ace was right; he’d been avoiding him in class. Dead giveaway.
“Spill, buddy.”
He played dumb. “Huh?”
“Oh, come on. You got a girl, or what? A guy doesn’t ditch his buds like that for anything but pussy.”
Archer made a face around a chuckle. “Ace, I am not talking to you about my sex life.”
“Yeah, you’re gettin’ some.” He laughed. “Do I know her? Is she hot?”
Yeah, you could say you know her. Christ. “Fuck off, Ace. Mind your own business.”
He snorted. “You and your privacy. Fine, keep your secrets, I see how it is. Beers tomorrow night?”
Oh, balls. Tomorrow was Friday night already. Game night. He shook his head. The only reason he hadn’t told Ace he was teaching Gwen was because she begged him not to. The thought made him wish she was there so he could assert his authority over her, letting her know that if it came up, he was going to tell him whether she liked it or not. Then he’d bend her over the nearest hard surface and take her long and hard until she admitted he was the boss.