A WILDer Kind of Love (10 page)

Or in this case, more of her truth.

Ding ding ding
.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Perfect.”

“What?” She was adorable, jumping a little from his savage underline but getting little goosebumps at the same time. That was just the start of how alluring she was, gawking at everything in the room like a child who’d never seen candy before. She wanted it all but wondered which sampling would give her the biggest stomachache. “Wh-what’s perfect?”

“You.” It sounded glib but oh hell, did he mean it. He stepped toward her again, jerking her face up with one hand, tugging her closer by her chin. “Oh, yes.” It was deep and animal, grated into the inches remaining between his mouth and hers. “So perfect.”

He kissed her with meaning, too. Not that he hadn’t before—but now, he could do it with all the plunging, thorough possessiveness he wanted, slanting his mouth and stabbing his tongue, yanking her hair until she moaned from the pressure of his grip—guaranteeing that when he released her several minutes later, she gasped for every breath—

And reached for the edge of his mask.

Dan swung his head and caught her fingers between his teeth.

She hissed. Jabbed him with a glare. “Why?”

Dan didn’t set her free. He wrapped a hand around her wrist, positioning his bite marks for soothing with languorous licks. Between the ministrations, he murmured, “Because I’m in charge. That’s why.”

“I want to see your eyes.”

“Will you trust me any more if you do?”

Her lips flattened. It was a one-way street of a question but he’d known that in the asking. By walking in here with him, she’d implied her trust, mask or not. On top of that, she had received Max’s personal endorsement of him. There was also the small camera dome mounted in the corner near the door, ensuring their session would end if he violated any of the hard limits listed on her submissive’s agreement—which they
were
going to discuss, once she got over her latest bout of topping from the bottom.

“What about mutual needs?” She hitched out a hip in defiance. “Come on, griffin. I showed you mine. Now how about polite reciprocation?”

Dan folded his arms. “What about it’s not up for discussion?”

She cocked her head. “Is this a deal breaker?”

“You tell me.”

“I’m not the one still hiding.”

He couldn’t help his bark of laughter. And his sweeping glance from her head to her toes—though that sure as hell might’ve been a mistake. Even in her strange cross between kinky and gypsy, she was so damn delectable. “Now
that’s
up for discussion, girl.”

“What?” She dipped her head defensively. “You dissin’ my threads now?”

“Not if they hit the floor inside the next two minutes.”

So much for defenses. Her head jerked back up, just as he’d hoped, eyes full of riotous green reckoning. “E-everything?” she stammered.

“Hmmm. Valid question.” He stepped back, appraising her again…loving the goosebumps he incited along her neck and arms. “We do still have business to attend. Craving to fuck you won’t be a welcome distraction.”

She beamed another saucy grin. “Depends on your point of view.”

He didn’t dare show her his half-smirk. He did, anyway. “Down to your corset and panties, red. You have a minute and a half.”

Yep, the smirk was a stupid move. She caught it right away, quirking her own lips in return, before taking her very sweet time unlacing her boots. The little brat lingered even longer on the thigh-highs beneath, languorously rolling them down the sleek curves of her legs. As Dan wetted his lips in anticipation of the skirt following next, she instead went for the pins in her hair, maddening about her pacing in shaking out the long cherry curls.

He almost growled—but was damn glad he didn’t. Just when he debated stepping forward and ripping the lacy layers away himself, he watched her hands fall to the garment’s waistband, and tremble there.

After that, his course was clearer. Because she was, too.

Because for all her sass and teasing, Tess Lesange was a woman who desperately wanted to be dominated. Perhaps even needed it.

“Take it off,” he ordered, relishing every syllable, “or
I
will, little rose.”

Inside of five seconds, the skirt was a puddle at her feet.

Producing the most exquisite phoenix he’d ever seen.

“Fuck. Me.” Dan didn’t hide the violent readjustment he gave to his hard-on, right through his jeans. What was he supposed to do when her nudity slammed him like a wall-sized masterpiece in the Louvre, all creamy skin and curves, with an ass that made the line of her thong a nuisance instead of an enhancement? His palms burned, needing to cup it. How was he going to get through all the “first session fine print” with her, with those incredible spheres taunting him?

“First session fine print?”

What happened to “
only
scene fine print?”

You get to do this once with her, asshole, remember?
Once
, just to get her out of your goddamn system, and then you’re setting her free for a Dom who can treat her right—someone who won’t fuck with her the way you just did Brynn. So get the hell on with it
.

“What’s wrong?” She glanced down, thinking his profanity had been a bite of displeasure. She was bat shit crazy for it but that was his gray line to clear up, not hers.

“Not a thing.” He reclaimed the two steps between them in order to stroke his hands down her shoulders, her arms, then around over her ass for one perfectly awesome moment. God
damn
. How would one night be enough to explore that backside in all the ways he wanted? “Not a single thing,” he emphasized, pulling back up to lift her onto the raised dais with the dangling chains. “Settle in here,” he instructed. “On your back, arms stretched out.”

Energy thrummed off her body and glittered in her eyes. She smiled and murmured, “Yes, Sir. And what about my legs?”

He smiled back and kissed her softly. “That’s for me to worry about.”

As soon as she was in position as he instructed, Dan circled around the platform, locating the chains that had leather wrist cuffs attached. Fast adjustments to the hooks on the cuffs secured the bindings around her wrists.

It was time for his plans for her legs.

A quick trip to the mausoleum supply cabinet, and he returned with the medieval-looking spreader bar that was as heavy and noisy as he’d anticipated when first eyeing it. As he secured her ankles into another pair of cuffs then clamped the cuffs into opposing sides of the bar, he watched a corresponding pair of shivers run up her legs. Her calves clenched, followed by her knees and thighs. He slid his hands the same direction, focusing on exhaling through the motions, wordlessly bidding her to relax. Watching his touch have a ripple effect across her skin, making her tremble and writhe…it was fucking intoxicating.

He spread his hands, kneading the beautiful curves of her thighs, both outside and in—until his thumbs joined together atop the triangle of fabric covering the hottest part of her body. She jerked as he stroked her there, her pussy instantly moistening the satin beneath his fingers.

“Oh!” she cried out.

“Damn,” he murmured back. “You’re drenched already, little rose.”

“Yes.” It spilled out, nearly all breath, despite the frustrated whimper that followed. With her legs tethered to the spreader, she could only open so far for him. Not far enough, if he properly interpreted her urgent little squirms.

He leaned over, taking her mouth in another commanding kiss. “Patience, little girl. We’ll get there.”

“When?” She bucked harder, arching toward him.

“Soon. After I discover a few more things about you.”

“L-like what?”

“Like a safe word?”

“Oh. That.” She giggled a little, tempting him even more to loosen her corset and set her tits free. But her open sensuality had already injected its way into his cock, forming an erection he fought like hell to ignore. If the rest of her breasts were as gorgeous as the crests he already glimpsed, that battle would be lost—and none of the important stuff would be covered. Not an option. When one already had a woman chained to a dais, even fourteen months of absence from the lifestyle didn’t excuse a Dom from paying attention to the important stuff.

With gritted discipline, he slid away from her. Made a full circle around the altar to observe her extremities for circulation and her bindings for comfort. During the circuit, he glanced several times at her face, captivated by how she looked left then right then back again, past the lacy ink defining the muscles of her shoulders, smiling every time she got to the sight of her bound wrists.

“Comfy, little rose?”

She emitted a dreamy hum and nodded. “Oh yes, Sir.”

“And what’s the word you’ll use with me if you aren’t?”

She tilted her neck, trying to look at him once more, but he’d deliberately stopped directly behind her. Mask or not, the less she viewed him straight-on, the better.

Wouldn’t be an issue for much longer. On his way to retrieve the spreader bar, he’d passed a tiered rack displaying a variety of blindfolds. One in particular had caught his gaze, a black leather cover rimmed with golden studs, a perfect accompaniment for her gleaming red curls.

He stepped over and pushed the blindfold onto the top of her head. Her breath caught but he didn’t lower the covering all the way. “Safe word, Odette. This goes no further without it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t we just green-yellow-red light it?”

Her flippant use of the “dungeon standards” sounded instant alarms for him. She’d clearly
not
really thought about it, common for a lot of fresh submissives who thought they could handle anything a Dom dished out, which meant he had to do the thinking for her.

“How about taffy?”

He would’ve bet money on her vehement reaction. “
Taffy
? That stuff will tear your fillings out. I hate it!”

Dan smirked.
No kidding
.

“That means you won’t forget the word.”

She snorted. “I’m not going to need the word.”

He snorted as well, harder and harder, before lowering the blindfold fully over her eyes. “The safe word is taffy, sweet girl. It belongs to you now. Use it if you need to.” While trailing his fingers lower, over the soft planes of her cheeks then down the sides of her neck, he went on, “But remember this: the rest of your words are mine. You’ll give them to me without hesitation, with full honesty.”

At first, her answer was nothing but a long sigh—but that was partly his fault. He couldn’t resist sliding his fingertips along her collarbones before spreading out, following the intricate curls of her tattoos. “Yes, Sir,” she finally whispered.

He let her hear his approving rumble. Her trust, so pure and earnest, aroused him as nothing had in a long time…such a
long
damn time.

And yeah, it scared him.

A little.

Maybe a lot.

What if he hadn’t ended up as the man in here with her tonight? What if she lay here, freely giving herself to someone who didn’t care for her as he did? All right, so Max’s screening process was too good for that, requiring all Doms to go through background screenings, but the thought of any other man stroking her as he did now, subjecting her to his mercy, in charge of absolutely everything she felt…

Rage, as illogical as it was indisputable, fired his veins.

Back burner, asshole. As far back as you can shove it. You only get this much. You can’t handle more than this much. Stop pouting like a pussy and get the fuck on with it.

“Tell me about these.” He fanned his fingers along all her ink, inciting more shivers through her body. Or maybe it was the new timber of his voice, dipped even lower than Vin status now, a sexed-starved Darth Vader. He wasn’t about to alter it, though. He could tell she enjoyed it.

“Not much to tell,” she murmured. “They’ve been there for a few years. I was going through a strange adjustment period, and needed to do something beautiful for myself.”

“‘Strange adjustment period,’” he echoed. “That sounds like shorthand for something else.”

Her lips pursed. “It was.”

“Or some
one
else?”

He didn’t want to admit how good it felt when she broke into a dismissive laugh. “If it had only been that easy.” Her sad murmur cancelled the effect. “But men have always been one of the easier parts of life for me.”

He cocked his head, wondering briefly if it added to the gentle prod of his tone. “By your choice?”

She laughed softly again. “That obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s been there before.” He skimmed his fingers back up, dipping them into her brilliant hair. “Someone who settled for vanilla and simple instead of having to explain my kink.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Until there’s everything wrong with it.”

His truth slipped her into silence. Him, too. In seconds, he knew she felt the change in the air…the sudden tension twisting between them. But while unexpected, it wasn’t unwelcome. The moment reminded him of how time seemed to stop before he plunged into a sky dive, terror and excitement fused in his gut, a deep and visceral connection to life.

But this time, it was even better—because the link was to her.

With
her.

He waited through another moment, absorbing the warmth that flowed through Tess’s skin…praying like hell that she felt every zap of his energy in return. When her whole body trembled and her muscles undulated, a victorious grin split his lips.

So this was what it felt like to be the grand wizard.

It was damn nice—yet the most humbling experience of his life. Like many D/s lifestylers, he’d flippantly tossed around the words “Power Exchange”, but never comprehended the term as deeply as he did now. Or had so much respect for it. Or been so in awe of it.

Or wanted even more of it.

The conclusion turned his next question into a possessive growl but he was beyond caring. “So you’ve never explored something like this with any of your partners?”

“No, Sir.”

His pulse jacked as if he’d just stepped from a plane at ten thousand feet. He was really the first to touch her in a setting like this. The knowledge blasted him with arousal, rocketed his arousal.