Bound With Pearls (8 page)

“That’s still really awesome. So where do you want to sell your stuff?” She appeared to have shaken off the sad memories.

“Right now it’s mostly boutiques and other designers. I’m hoping that with this winter collection I will be able to get space in a bigger, name-brand store. Some might turn their noses up at it, but you have to be in a place where people will see you so they can buy your product.”

She nodded as he spoke. “That makes perfect sense.”

He tilted his head to the side. He’d wanted to see the other layers that made up Christine and liked what he saw. They slipped into a comfortable feeling, as if they’d spent ages together instead of just hours. This was what he had been looking for. She wasn’t just a well-trained, sexy submissive, she was damn smart as well.

Christine was glad the portions on the multi-course meal were petite. The dress fit her like a second skin, not uncomfortable but overeating would be. Besides, her nerves were taut and she could only manage to eat half of each course. They still had dessert to go.

Her attention drifted to the rest of the patrons. There were many glamorous-looking people at the restaurant. She’d never dined at a place this extravagant. The glimpses she got of the kitchen made her think of the cooking competition shows with the chefs who had a penchant for yelling. She’d been focused on Daniel and not dropping food on herself for most of the meal, so she hadn’t paid much attention to their surroundings, which was a pity because the place was beautiful.

Heat blossomed on the tender underside of her wrist. She tried to jerk away from it, but Daniel held her in place. Whipping her head around, she sucked in a breath and stared at him. He pressed the back of her hand flat against the table. In his other hand he held the burned-out tea light from the centerpiece over her arm. The wick was gone, but there was still hot wax in the silver dish.

She glanced down at her arm and the tiny circle of drying wax. The skin around the white dot was pink and tingled.

His eyes were bright but his face was drawn into the emotionless façade that was the Dom.

“Too hot?”

She shook her head. She was surprised but it didn’t hurt. Not after the initial shock. His gaze dropped to her arm. He slowly dripped more wax, pouring a line down the sensitive skin. It was warm and a little uncomfortable. Her attention centered on where the wax would fall next. By the time the last bit had fallen, she was squirming in her seat. How heat on her arm could have her creaming her panties was a mystery.

He discarded the silver saucer and bent over her arm. Holding her gaze, he gently blew on the wax. She shivered and wished they were someplace private.

“Do you like the wax?” His eyes were heavy-lidded and sexy.

Sexual hunger blossomed between them. Her voice morphed into a sultry, breathless purr. “I’ve never played with it before. But I’d be interested.”

His fingers traced the top of the still-soft wax. He stared into her eyes as if he were reading her soul. “Did you get yourself off last night?”

Heat gripped her cheeks. She couldn’t help glancing around them. Could other people hear them?

He squeezed her hand. “You’re here with me. Pay attention to me.”

Squirming, she took her time sliding her gaze back to him. She’d had relationships that included kink before, but there had always been clear-cut boundaries between the bedroom and public.

Wetting her lips, she looked up at him through her lashes. Their relationship was based on trust. Testing was natural, but not something she’d thought would happen so soon.

She cleared her throat and tried to reply as calmly as possible. “Daniel, I’m uncomfortable talking about this in public.”

“We aren’t doing anything.” His thumb traced the wax on her arm. “What’s making you uncomfortable?”

Though she didn’t think the people at the nearest table could hear them, she still glanced their way. “People might be listening.”

He frowned and his fingers stilled against her skin. “There are talk radio shows and websites where people discuss their sex lives. I asked one question. Did you use a vibrator? Or your hands?”

“No,” she hissed, trying to tug her hand from his but he didn’t let her go.

“No?”

He lifted one damn eyebrow and she stilled. She couldn’t meet his gaze so she ducked her head and stared at the tablecloth. She knew she was blushing furiously and she hated it.

“No.”

“No, what?”

Lifting her gaze, she met his, forcing herself to not squirm. “No, I didn’t use a vibrator or my…my hands.”

He peeled back the first circle of wax. The skin underneath was hypersensitive to the cool brush of air. He lifted her arm and kissed the spot. She could feel each ridge of flesh, the slight scrape of his stubble. He peeled back the rest, kissing his way up her arm. The restaurant faded away. He could have pulled her up onto the table, fucked her right there and she wouldn’t have cared.

She didn’t know how far he would have taken it if the waiter hadn’t delivered their desserts. He didn’t seem to care about people watching or listening.

She looked down at her tropical-colored dessert, trying to wrap her brain around eating when all she wanted was the man across from her.

He leaned forward and pitched his voice low. “I want to fuck you. I’ve had a hard-on since Friday. Go to the club with me?”

Her breath caught in her throat. Her body pulsed with need.

“Yes Sir. I’d like that.”

Christine gripped the side of the door. She dug her heels into the floorboard, allowing her some traction to move her hips.

“Oh god,” she muttered as her eyes rolled back into her head.

Daniel’s hand was between her thighs again but he wasn’t fooling around. Well, he was fooling around but it was purposeful. His touch through the fabric of her panties was firm but not enough. She needed more friction, harder and faster. She’d been sexually frustrated since Friday, and she was finally going to get some relief, if only he would fuck her now.

She stifled a complaint when he pulled his hands away. The car accelerated, the force pushing her back against the leather, vibrating with the roar of the engine. Grinding her pussy against the seat, she grasped the overhead handle and moaned. She’d take a cargasm if he’d hit the gas hard enough.

The drive wasn’t a long one but for her it took forever. Her world had narrowed to the strumming of her clit. She could hear his voice but it was background to what was going on between her legs. Or had been going on until he’d needed to shift gears.

The momentum threw her against the car door. Grunting, she opened her eyes, disoriented by the dark, urban surroundings. The car made a hard stop under a carport, throwing her forward into the seat belt.

They were at the club.

Oh thank god, finally.

“Out,” he barked as his door slammed shut.

She fumbled with the door handle, forgetting the seat belt until it snapped her back against the seat. Daniel leaned over her and popped the release. He grinned at her, momentarily letting the Dom façade slip. They laughed and he took her hands, pulling her out of the low car.

He pushed the door shut behind her with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist. She went willingly, pressing herself against him from knee to lips. She loved that he kissed her as enthusiastically as she kissed him. He hauled her forward and they hustled into the nondescript building, which, unbeknown to the neighbors, hosted a naughty clientele.

Though it was Tuesday, the club was busy. She heard people call out to Daniel but he didn’t stop. His hand on her lower back propelled her from the foyer, where they left their coats, down the hall into the public dungeon.

Her heart beat in double time. Rooms would have been booked by now. Leaving only the public areas available. She hadn’t considered the logistics before agreeing to his suggestion.

“Daniel, Sir.”

He turned to her, pushing her up against a table on the fringes of the room and bracketing her with his body. Gone was the easygoing, quick-to-laugh man from dinner, this was the Dom side. Adrenaline pumped through her, amped up by the sounds of flesh slapping, moans of pleasure and pain and the unmistakable scent of sex. It was background noise, subtext to the unspoken conversation flying back and forth between them.

“Do you trust me?” he growled, inches from her face.

Her response flew off her lips without hesitation. “Of course.”

“Good.”

“I-I’m just…” Her gaze flicked over his shoulder to the blur of people.

He grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. His voice was soft though his hold was not. “You’re shy?”

“I’m not my sister,” she whispered.

The hold on her chin tightened. “I don’t care what you aren’t. Do you not trust me?”

She clung to his arm. “I do.”

He pulled out of her grasp and she almost launched herself at him. People staring at her, the idea of being stripped bare for everyone to see unsettled her. But losing Daniel over her anxiety was the worst. She needed him more. Any man could get her off, but she needed him. Their connection, the chemistry wasn’t something easily found.

He gripped her hips and pushed her on top of a metal table. Her ass slid across the surface thanks to the silky material of her dress. Her hands flattened against the table on instinct. Her heart raced. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

His hands covered hers. Leaning forward, he took her mouth in a dominating kiss. She melted for him, opening her mouth, putting up no defense against his conquest.

“Unbutton my pants.”

Her voice was a breathy whisper to his command. “Yes Sir.”

Since he was dressed to the nines, she had to fumble with the slim buckle on his belt and the obnoxious fancy button on his slacks. Her breathing was erratic, pounding out a counter rhythm to the pulsing tones being pumped out through the speakers. Though he hadn’t told her to, she tugged his boxer briefs down to expose his cock, easing his clothing out of the way until his balls were free.

“Go ahead,” he dared.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping her hand around his cock, she pumped him slowly, caressing the head with her thumb. Lest his balls be forgotten, she cupped them with her other hand. His skin was darker than hers, a warm olive tone to her lily white.

He grasped her wrists and pulled her off the table.

She tripped over her heels but he held her up, maneuvering her around the table until she faced a wall and he the crowd. She almost laughed at his concession to her inhibition but he was already tugging the side zipper on her dress down. Nerves had her frozen, arms around his neck and her gaze latched on his lips as the dress slid down her body to hang at her hips. She wasn’t naked, but she might as well have been.

Goose bumps broke out across her flesh and she could feel a hole being bored into her back from the people staring at her. She’d never been one for the limelight, exhibitionism wasn’t something she liked. Public play made her nervous.

“Chris.” He tugged painfully on her hair, forcing her face up to meet his gaze.

“Sir?”

“Who are you supposed to be focused on?” His rough voice made her shudder.

“You, Sir.” She bit her lip, knowing what was coming.

“Who are you thinking about?”

She wanted to look away from him. She didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. “The people staring. Sir.”

“So those people are more important than my cock?”

“No Sir.”

“I think you’re lying.” He straightened, his gaze dangerous and dark.

“No.” She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. “No Sir.”

His body tensed. Tilting his head toward her, he spoke slowly. “You’re telling me no?”

“That’s not what I meant.” How had everything gone from desperate hunger to this mess? She reached for him.

Catching her wrist, he twisted her arm around behind her back. “Now you’re saying I’m lying?”

The venom in his voice stung worse than the pressure-pain in her shoulder. “No.” She sobbed, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. How was it she could screw up something so easily?

Chapter Six

“No?”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Are you?” He applied more pressure to her arm and the first pinpricks of pain stabbed her shoulder.

“Yes, I am, Sir.” She blinked rapidly to clear moisture from her eyes.

Daniel released her and she hunched over. She could make out only his shape through the onslaught of tears. She didn’t know why it mattered that she please him, but it did.

Hands cupped her cheeks and thumbs swiped below her eyes.

“Shh.” His breath was a warm puff of air against her face. He still smelled of the after-dinner mints they’d eaten instead of dessert. Lips brushed over hers, her cheek and forehead.

She pushed her arms under his jacket and hugged him. Letting him go wasn’t an option. She wanted to explore this thing between them no matter what. She pressed her lips to his. Miraculously, he kissed her back, keeping the touch sweet but brief.

“Christine.” The edge was gone from his voice but it was still stern. Stern she could take. Disappointment she could not. “I’m going to punish you for focusing on those people instead of me, and then I’m going to fuck your pussy.”

She shivered and peeked up at him through her lashes. Anticipation had her creaming her panties all over again.

He slapped her hip lightly. “Turn around.”

Unwinding her arms, she turned in place and put her hands on the table. The metal was warm where she’d been sitting. Her shoes were starting to pinch her toes and the zipper of her dress was digging into her from the awkward way it gaped open, still hanging on her hips.

She watched him over her shoulder. Everything else fell away. The world shrank to the two of them. It might have had something to do with the way his gaze ate her up. He loomed behind her, big and imposing. She could understand why her sister thought he was scary. If she hadn’t seen the way he smiled or the calm, controlled Dom, she might be afraid. But she wasn’t. She was turned-on. He laughed with her and pestered her about being safe. He was the most important thing in that moment.

He leaned forward, placing his hands over hers, and bit her earlobe. “You’re going to watch those people watching us. You know why they’re staring?”

The breath caught in her throat. She’d forgotten about their audience. Wetting her lips, she shook her head. “No Sir.”

He cupped her breast through the strapless bra. The touch was still gentle. He hadn’t forgotten about the bruises. She hadn’t minded the bruises, would gladly take more if he decided he liked them, but his fierce, proprietary behavior about her well-being was touching. She felt precious, cared for and desired. It was a new point between them. Sure, she’d wanted the Dominant she’d met in the dungeon, but now she wanted the man as well.

“They’re wondering who the beautiful woman I’ve brought with me is. They saw us arrive. They know my cock is hard for you.”

Protests died on her lips when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties. The panties she’d bought to match the new bra. Hell, she’d bought a whole new outfit for today, and now all she was wearing were the heels, her bra and the necklace he hated. He removed her dress and panties, tossing them on the table in front of her.

“Face forward.”

Turning to the crowd, she let her eyes drift, roaming over scenes in play and the onlookers. Anytime she caught gazes directed toward her she looked somewhere else.

The first blow to her backside took her by surprise. The force shoved her hips forward, hitting the edge of the table. Daniel didn’t stop to smooth over the hurt, though he did place a steadying hand on her hip before delivering another blow to her other cheek.

She rocked forward on her toes, grunting as another blow landed on her ass. There were too many components, too many factors to focus on so she didn’t focus on any one. She allowed her mind to go blank, welcoming the warm cocoon of subspace, the wondrous place that reduced life to sensation and reaction.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as light blows rained down above and below her ass, teasing her. Moans escaped her lips and she splayed her hands as far as her fingers would go. She knew people were watching. She could feel their gaze, the curiosity, the jealous stares and aroused watchers. She hadn’t forgotten them, but they were secondary. They didn’t matter.

Daniel spun her around and lifted her burning ass onto the table. She hissed at the sensation of the cool metal against her hot flesh. She watched, body trembling, as he dug a condom out of his pocket and suited up. She spread her legs when he stepped closer. He gripped her knees, holding her open and leaning toward her.

“Put my cock inside you.”

His voice sent shivers down her spine. She didn’t hesitate. Wrapping her hand around his shaft, she took a moment to caress him, feeling the hard length swell in her grasp. Guiding him to her entrance, she passed the head through her folds, using her honey to coat him. She was soaked from the prolonged state of arousal.

“Christine,” he growled.

She rolled her hips forward, taking the head of his penis into her. She could feel every ridge, the way he touched all of her nerve endings. He groaned, his breath fanning her hair. His hold on her knees tightened as he thrust. They moaned together on his second thrust, which slid him deeper into her pussy.

“Oh, fuck yes,” she muttered. Prying her eyes open, she watched him and tracked his gaze down to where their bodies were finally joined.

“Yeah.”

He let go of her knees, his hands skating over her skin to her hips. He gripped her ass and pulled her forward, impaling her on the last of his length. Her legs curled around him, holding him there while her inner walls spasmed. She almost climaxed from that alone. Scrabbling to hold off, she concentrated on doing dishes and cleaning the toilet, anything to wait for him.

Daniel withdrew almost the entire length of his cock, then plunged back in. The friction against her clit had her eyes rolling in her head. She clenched her legs around him, holding him there to savor the moment. He gripped her hips and pistoned back into her body, over and over again.

He stared at her, their gazes fastening as if they were buckles clicking into place. She found herself breathing in time with him, digging her heels into his ass to bring him back into her rougher than before.

A vein protruded on his forehead. He slid one hand down from her hip and pressed his thumb roughly over her clit in time to his thrusts. Her will to hold out shattered.

Coming wasn’t a question. She went over in an explosion of sensation, bursts of color behind her eyelids and curling her toes. Still Daniel didn’t stop his assault of her body. His thrusts became harder, deeper, forcing her back on her forearms as his control slipped. She could hear herself sobbing and moaning and she didn’t care.

She pried her eyes open, her mouth frozen on another moan when his body went taut. He slapped his hands on the table on either side of her and his back bowed. She watched his face as his climax slammed through him. She could feel the twitch of his cock deep within her. The sensation of his ejaculation sent little fireworks of sensation through her pussy. As his body went slack, she reached up and pulled him down to cover her.

Holy hell, she wanted to do that again.

Daniel traced part of the tattoo fanning over her shoulder. She curled into him, resting a hand on his lower back. Her response to even his subtle cues was amazing. He didn’t know who had trained her to begin with, but someone had groomed her perfectly. Or maybe she was a natural. He hadn’t figured it out yet, but he wanted to.

He gently untangled their limbs, pausing every few moments to kiss or caress Chris. She had the blissed-out expression of someone who’d hit subspace. He searched for her discarded clothing and helped her redress. Neither spoke, and they didn’t need to. Words would cheapen the magic happening between them.

They strolled around the edges of the public dungeon and into the common area. Bodies writhed on the dance floor and groups clustered around tables.

He didn’t want leave the club yet. It was a weeknight and, though he could get up whenever he felt like it, he would need to take Christine home. If he were honest with himself, he wanted to show her off. The few subs he’d entertained the idea of collaring had been play partners only. She was an entirely different creature.

As if she felt his thoughts, she glanced at him. Her height coupled with the lift of her heels had her at eye level. Not a very submissive posture, but between them there was no doubt who was in control.

Catching sight of two of his favorite people, he steered her to the booth where Bianca and Clay reclined.

“Hello, Ma’am. May we?” He gestured to the unoccupied bench.

Bianca peered past him and straight to Christine. Her eyes lit with avid interest. “Of course.” Her gaze drifted back to him as a smile spread across her lips.

Clay sat on the floor, his head against her knee. Bianca ran her fingers absently through his hair, which he seemed to be enjoying. A gold chain ran from his nipple clamps and coiled around Bianca’s wrist. They were already putting his gift to good use.

“Thank you,” he replied, settling on the bench. Christine stood, her eyes focused somewhere between the floor and his knee. She never failed to surprise him. He realized if he told her to mirror Clay’s pose, she would. In that moment, he could have fucked her all over again as a thank you. Instead, he patted the cushion next to him.

She sat, hands folded primly in her lap and her gaze cast down. Her cheeks were tinged a faint pink most might mistake for makeup, but he knew the truth. She’d pushed past a barrier when he’d insisted on public play. He was proud of her, and it might be silly but he wanted everyone to know she was here with him. The crowd might not comprehend what had happened, but the energy between them was undeniable.

“Who is this?” Bianca asked, though the minx had a good idea.

Still, he wasn’t above showing her off. He smoothed her wild hair behind her ear. “This is Christine. Christine, say hello to my friends, Mistress Bianca and her husband, Clay.”

Christine lifted her chin, a slight smile curling her lips. “Hello, Mistress Bianca, Clay.”

“She’s exquisite, Daniel.” Bianca tugged on Clay’s hair. “Are you sharing?”

His hand, which had been stroking Christine’s hair, closed around the nape of her neck. His response was immediate, visceral. He’d break the arms of whatever person tried to touch her. His answer came out low and rough. “No.”

Bianca’s reply of “Pity” was drowned out by his revelation that he was thinking of Christine as his. He’d begun tonight as an endeavor to see if they were compatible, and now he knew they were combustible in all the right ways. The jewelry sitting on his workbench took on a whole new importance.

Christine studied him from the corner of her eye, and what he wouldn’t have given for a private room. He couldn’t read the nuances in her gaze, but the slight relaxation of her shoulders, the way she leaned her body against his, those were signs he could understand. They’d reached a point that transcended the casual. She might not know it yet, but he owned her, and he embraced the idea.

“Your loss,” he agreed. He applied pressure to her neck, pulling her against his side. She kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck, turning her body toward him.

“Are you staying for the demonstrations tonight?”

“Demonstrations?” He shrugged. “Probably not.”

“She’s rather well mannered.”

Oh, Bianca was dying to ask questions, he knew how nosy she was. He hid his smile in Chris’ hair. “She is, isn’t she? Where did you learn such good manners, hm?”

She peeked up at him, her cheeks still pink, probably a little uncomfortable as the focus of attention. “I went through discipline training with Master Brandon Halsted, Sir.”

“Really? I’ve heard of him.” Bianca leaned forward.

“Should I know him?” Daniel asked.

Bianca shook her head. “He moved.”

Chris had mentioned this Master Brandon before. He couldn’t decide if he owed the man a drink for teaching her or a fist for touching her. But hadn’t she said their relationship wasn’t a sexual one?

It was distracting to try to carry on a coherent conversation with Bianca while Christine’s curves were so accessible. As much as he enjoyed his friend’s conversation, his heart wasn’t in it. His mind was racing a mile a minute. If he could do what he’d done with the inspiration from Christine’s tattoo, could he do that again? A concept for a new collection was solidifying in his head, adding yet another thing pulling him in a different direction.

Christine’s supple body stiffened. Her head rose from his shoulder and she glanced at something behind them. He turned to see what had captured her attention.

Lucy and her boyfriend were at a larger table, with a crowd. She stood on top of the table in a skimpy outfit, wiggling her ass as if that were how she made her money.

He pitched his voice low. “She’s not supposed to be here, is she?”

Her lips were compressed into a tight line. She shook her head. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Bianca asked, never one to be left out.

He couldn’t say he was surprised by Lucy’s deception. Christine had mentioned her sister’s trip over dinner. He was disappointed for her sake. She shrugged and laid her head back on his shoulder, curling tightly to his side. She wrapped her arm around his waist, gripping his belt. Putting a hand over hers, he squeezed.