Appreciated (Club Indigo Book 3)

by Karen Nappa

  "Jewelry, Sir? I don't think we know each other well enough for that."

  "Not quite. Open it, and I'll explain."

  Paula opened the box to see a simple gold chain with a small, delicate locket. She pulled it out. "This is beautiful, Sir. But it's too much."

  "No, it's your temporary collar. It shows our connection so that only we know. Open the locket. It's rather special to me."

  She struggled with it for a moment before she found the right crack. Inside, was a photo of a young boy. She looked up at him. "Is this you?"

  "Yes. I gave it to my grandmother for her birthday when I was maybe ten. My mother helped me get the picture mounted. I saved for months to afford the necklace. She left it to me when she died a few years back."

  Tears gathered at the corners of Paula's eyes. "I don't know if I can wear something so personal, Sir. What if something happens to it?"

  "I know you'll take good care of it. Let me put it on you."

  Paula bent her head obediently and he fastened the locket around her neck. "You're only allowed to take it off when you're in the shower or somewhere where it might be damaged. Otherwise, I expect you to wear it all the time to remind you that you're mine."

  "Yes, Sir. I'll be proud to. Especially because it means so much to you." She wiped her arm over her eyes for a moment and then smiled at him. "What's next?"

  "How about dinner?"

  "What did you have in mind? I should warn you, my cooking talents are rather limited."

  "I was thinking we could go out and celebrate. How about the Smokehouse?"

  "Sounds good to me. I love their brisket. It's so wonderfully tender."

  "Why don't you freshen up, and I'll call for a reservation?"

  Paula fumbled with her seatbelt as Jim put the Acura into park.

  Dinner had been excellent as it always was at the Smokehouse. They had shared a slab of pork ribs, and the meat had practically fallen off the bones, just the way she liked it. Jim had been an absolute gentleman, no sign of him trying to dominate her. He'd even agreed to split the check! Now they were back at the condo, and she was feeling both nervous and insecure about the rest of the night.

  "Look at me." Before she could process his order, her eyes found his blue gaze. "There's nothing to be nervous about. Like every new relationship, we're going to explore and experience what works for us and what doesn't. If there's something you don't like, all you have to do is tell me."

  "I suck at relationships, Jim. What if I screw up? Maybe we shouldn't do this after all?"

  His eyes turned hard, and it reminded Paula that he was used to dealing with hardened criminals.

  "So, because you're worried the relationship is going to fail, you won't give it a chance to succeed?"

  Paula winced because his words were true. "Sorry, Sir." Would the honorific placate him? "I guess you're right. I've promised to do this for two months and I will do so. It's just that I'm not sure what you will expect from me outside of the bedroom and it makes me antsy."

  Jim took her hand from the belt strap and pressed a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist. The gesture so sweet and arousing at the same time. "How about we spend the next hour or so going over the rules and how I expect you to behave around me? I want this to work for us, Melda."

  He looked at her like she was the only woman on earth and his words rang sincerely. The use of that special Elvish word made something in her chest flutter and Paula nodded in agreement. "Yes, show me, please."

  She was rewarded with a bright smile before she got a stern look and a "Stay."

  Paula leaned back in her seat as Jim exited the car and came around to open her door. She knew better than to release her seatbelt and waited with her hands resting on her legs. That earned her a "Good girl."

  "Shouldn't I do things like that for you?" she inquired.

  Jim smiled and shook his head. "No, Melda. Some Masters may want that kind of attention, but I like to take care of you. Part of the attraction of the 24/7 dynamic for me is that I'm certain you're safe and content."

  She didn't get the whole idea, but she did like his chivalrous behavior around her. Men usually expected Paula to hold her own and to keep up. She was surprised how much she liked being taken care of.

  As Jim guided her inside the house and closed the front door, he stated, "You know the first two rules already."

  Paula nodded. "Yes, I do. The clothes and the greeting kiss."

  "That's right." Jim looked pleased with her. "Today, we dined in public, and there, we acted like a vanilla couple." She smiled at that and he held up a finger. "Mind you, you don't speak over me or otherwise try to take control, even in a vanilla setting. It'll earn you a punishment for disrespect."

  She wasn't sure she liked that, but she would hold her tongue for now.

  Jim continued. "However, when we're at home—either mine or yours—you'll be eating from my hand."

  "What? I can feed myself." Paula realized she might have gone too far and backpedaled. "Why is that, Sir?" She hesitated before adding, "I'm not questioning your rules, but I want to understand."

  Jim smiled. "I'll indulge your curiosity. I think questions serve a purpose right now. For the next hour, you're allowed to ask me anything you want," he said. "In answer to your question, by feeding you, I control what you eat, how fast, and how much. I've noticed you have the tendency to scarf down your food. I want you to savor your meals, especially the ones I provide for you."

  Paula stopped to think and realized she did often read up on cases or otherwise multitask while she ate, especially at work. She's always thought of eating as a bodily function and not something to linger over.

  Jim ducked his head to make eye contact, and Paula nodded to show her understanding. "So you want us to sit down at the dining table for every meal?"

  A boyish grin flashed over his face. "Follow me." He took her hand and guided her to the kitchen which held a smaller table. "This is the place for preparing meals and eating them."

  Paula looked at the oak table with only one chair. "Do you expect me to sit in your lap?"

  Jim's face scrunched up in a cute 'I'm thinking hard' face. "That's actually an appealing thought, but you'll be sitting beside me." Jim indicated a wide cushion on the floor beside the chair. What the hell!

  "You want me beside you like a dog begging for scraps from the table?" Her voice rose in pitch.

  "Tone," he admonished. "I'm not into puppy play, Paula. When you're sitting beside me on the ground, I can monitor your reactions much better than when you're across from me at the table. By kneeling, you will be getting into your submissive headspace. On the floor beside me, you don't have to worry about a thing. I will be taking care of your every need."

  Paula's anger vanished as rapidly as it had come. "I remember Jackson and how he let go of everything around him, while on his knees beside Henry. Okay, I believe you, Sir." No, he deserved more. "I'm sorry I snapped at you and assumed the worse."

  Jim pressed a kiss on her cheek and squeezed her hand. "Apologies accepted. I realize this is all very new to you, and most people don't understand the lifestyle."

  "Is that the reason lifestylers get so irritated when I bring up the Fifty Shades movie?" She couldn't contain her curiosity.

  "The books and movies paint a very distorted picture of the lifestyle. It feeds the common misunderstanding that people who are into BDSM are mentally ill and need to be 'cured' of the disorder." Jim scowled, and after a brief pause, his face relaxed. "It did make the topic more socially acceptable, though—so that might be a plus." He shrugged and gestured to the pillow. "When we come into the kitchen, I want you to go to the pillow and kneel. Do you remember how you're supposed to kneel?"

  Paula nodded. "With my hands at the small of my back and my knees parted."

  He looked pleased that she'd remembered.

  "There's another pose I want to teach you. When I say 'Present,' I want you to stand upright like you're at attention but with your hands behi
nd your back and your legs at least shoulder wide apart. Can you do it now?"

  Paula obeyed and took the pose easily. Jim looked her over. "Now, clasp your arms by the elbows. Can you manage that, or is it too uncomfortable?"

  Paula tried, and although it felt a bit awkward, she answered, "It's okay."

  "Great, you can relax." Paula let out a sigh of relief when she let go of her arms and let them hang beside her body.

  "There are a lot more poses we can do, but for now, I think these two will do just fine. Do you have any more questions?"

  Paula shook her head.

  "In that case, our hour of show and tell is over, and now you belong to me." His hot gaze made liquid gather between her legs. "Kneel, Melda."

  Chapter 9

  The first two weeks of their new relationship flew by for Paula. She found the rhythm of texting Jim during the day was comforting. She felt special that he cared enough to want to hear from her and he was always prompt with his morning and evening responses. Sometimes the evening text turned into a phone conversation. These would leave her either excited or so relaxed, she could almost fall asleep before she disconnected the call. If she was aroused by the call, she was stuck, because she had agreed to allow him to control her orgasms. Unless he gave her permission, she wasn't allowed to masturbate.

  She found she liked having the schedule. She was slowly making a dent in her cluttered home. She had started in the kitchen, and after putting in some extra time, she was all caught up with the dishes and she had healthy food in her cabinets and refrigerator. Now she was working on her bedroom. She'd taken a monster load of clothes to the dry cleaners, and today, she was catching up on laundry. She'd even started a load of wash before she went for her run that morning. She hadn't figured out how or when she was going to be able to tackle the main disaster area, but she hoped to start it soon. She had finished vacuuming her bedroom and was heading downstairs to check on the laundry when she heard the doorbell ring.

  Who could that be? People didn't just drop by. She hoped it wasn't the neighborhood kids selling more stuff she didn't need. She hated to turn them down, but she had all the wrapping paper she could ever use, she'd sworn off Girl Scout cookies, and was popcorned out. She knew the schools and other groups needed the money and she wanted to help, but the kids weren't allowed to take direct contributions.

  She looked through the peephole and realized it was way worse than unwanted underage solicitors. There stood Jim, looking like Legolas in his jeans and forest green long sleeved shirt. They had watched The Lord of the Rings movies the weekend before, and now she was thinking in Middle Earth imagery. As he reached toward the doorbell to try again, she plastered a smile on her face and offered up a prayer to the goddess of cleanliness to make her mess disappear as she opened the door.

  "Sir," she said. "I wasn't expecting you." She stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind her. She kissed him aggressively, hoping for once that he'd be the weak-kneed one. Of course, that was not to be and she was ready to strip by the time he finished with her.

  If Jim was surprised by her sudden ardor, he hid it well. "What a lovely greeting, Melda. Perhaps we should take this inside before we have to arrest each other for public indecency." His lips twitched and she wanted to kiss him again.

  Instead of opening the door and inviting him in, Paula tried to stall, asking, "What brings you by, Sir?"

  "Nothing important. I thought I'd come to give you a hand with your chores and then I can drive you to my place."

  "There's no need for that, Sir. I'm almost done. I just have to take the last load of laundry out of the dryer. Why don't I do that and change and we could go have lunch?" She twisted her hands, hoping she didn't sound as anxious as she felt.

  "That sounds like a great idea. I'll help fold the clothes while you get changed and packed." He moved past her to open the door and go in.

  Paula gulped and followed him. "I can explain, Sir. Please don't look at this. Let's go in the kitchen and—" Her voice trailed off when she saw his expression. Thunderclouds were less ominous than Jim's face.

  "Please do explain, Paula."

  "I'm a really lousy housekeeper, Sir. Always have been. Organizing my stuff is impossible for me. This is why I didn't want you to see the house. I'm working on it now, really, I am. I've got the kitchen under control and I've been working on my bedroom today. I've put in a bunch of my free time already, but the boxes always get to me. I'm really sorry you had to see it like this. Please come to the kitchen where we can sit down." The words came out so fast, Paula wasn't sure what she was saying. She kept babbling out how sorry she was and tried to get him through the disaster area that was her living room.

  Jim stopped in the middle of the room and did a 360-degree turn for a complete look. Paula cringed as he eyed boxes and tottering piles of papers and books covering the furniture and most of the floor space. Paula had carved a path through the room and another through the middle so she could get to the thermostat, but from the dust, the boxes hadn't been touched in ages. Jim took a deep breath and the storm Paula had feared seemed to pass.

  "Lead on to the kitchen, Melda. Let's see what kind of job you've done there and we can talk about this situation." He ran his finger over the closest box and looked at the thick layer of dust as if it offended him by its very existence.

  The dining room was similarly cluttered, although from the dust patterns, the contents appeared to have been rearranged recently. The kitchen, however, was as Paula had promised. Bright from sunshine, counters and tabletops spotless, and the curtains appeared to be freshly laundered. She was relieved to see Jim's expression softening even more.

  "Please sit down, Sir. Would you like some coffee? I made the pot about an hour ago."

  Jim shook his head, sat down, and pointed to the chair opposite. "Sit down, Melda. Take a deep breath and tell me about the boxes that make you a candidate for one of those TV shows about hoarding."

  Paula took a couple of deep breaths and began her tale of woe. "This used to be my grandmother's house. Most of the furniture in the house was hers. She died about six months after my divorce and, as fate would have it, left me the house and everything in it. When I got the chance to join the KCPD, it was like a dream come true. Unfortunately, I had to start work pretty much instantly and never had a chance to go through everything, or much of anything, really. Most of the boxes are my grandmother's stuff. She was a collector of all things small and delicate. I've tried to go through things once in a while, but I either end up with a box that's full of Granny's breakables or a box of mine whose contents seem to multiply when I open it. It just overwhelms me."

  "Are all the rooms like this?"

  "Mostly. Some friends of hers did the packing but didn't know what to do with the boxes. The other room downstairs is full of cabinets that still have more figurines in them."

  "What about upstairs?"

  "My room is almost in order. I was planning on having it finished today. The bathroom isn't spotless, but it's clean. There are two other bedrooms that are full of more boxes and all kinds of other stuff. I just don't know what to do about it all." Her lower lip quivered on the last sentence.

  "Okay. We'll finish your bedroom first, and then we'll take stock in the living room. The way to do this is to break it down into smaller pieces. You go get your clothes from the dryer and meet me upstairs."

  "Yes, Sir." Despite her embarrassment at having Jim there, his dominance was working its magic on her and she felt more comfortable about the house.

  Jim was pleased with the bedroom and they had her laundry put away in less than ten minutes. Then Jim took the time to look through Paula's closet while she finished organizing her sock drawer. "What happened to all your pantsuits?"

  "They're at the dry cleaners. I've got one there for Monday."

  "I'm glad they're gone. It gives me space to look for hidden treasures like that gorgeous fuchsia shirt you have."

  "Look away. I don't think
you'll find much. Clothes have never been a priority for me."

  "We'll have to change that. I like to see my Melda in pretty clothes. Here's something." He pulled a black dress from the back. "Try it on for me."

  "But shouldn't we get started downstairs?" Paula had never liked that dress and was wishing she hadn't kept it.

  "Who's in charge here, Melda?"

  "You are, Sir." She got up and stripped to her basic white bra and panties.

  "Your underwear choices are another thing we need to work on. For now, the dress, please."

  Paula pulled her classic "little black dress" over her head and sucked in her stomach as she wrestled with the zipper.

  "Allow me," Jim said. The zipper stuck a couple of times on the way up from lack of use, but he managed. "Now turn around so I can get the full view. God, woman, you are gorgeous. Why was this hidden in the back?"

  Paula was fussing with the waistline of the dress, trying to move it lower so the dress would cover her knees. "A. It's too short. B. It shows every flaw my body has. I'd have to get Spanx to wear it in public. C. I look like a hooker in it."

  "I beg to differ. That dress is a classic, and so are you. The skirt should be short and you have great legs that you hide under all those pantsuits. I don't see these flaws you claim to have. The sweetheart neckline shows off your cleavage to perfection and it does not make you look trashy at all. You look fabulous, and you'll wear it when we go to the club next time. Definitely no Spanx." Jim helped her with the zipper again and had her out of the dress before Paula could think too much about the prospect of wearing the dress in public. "Now put your sweats back on and we'll get to work in the living room."

  Paula dragged her feet as they walked down the stairs. Even with Jim's help, she was afraid of the task ahead of her. She wasn't sure she was ready for him to see the skeletons she'd been keeping in boxes instead of closets.