Broken Bonds (Club Imperial Series) (6 page)

“Emmy, I didn’t want you to need a certain pair of pants and not have them. I told you I’m not moving you in. I’m just trying to make you comfortable.” He came to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “If I were moving you in, don’t you think this would all be in my closet? We’ll move it all back when it’s safe.”

Emmy wanted to fight. She wanted to go back to her place, with her bed and her furniture and her routines. But she really would have a hard time fending for herself with a broken arm and busted ribs. She swallowed her anger. “Well, show me around, I guess. Since I’m going to be here for a while.” Nathaniel held out his good arm for her to take with her good arm, and led her back through the door.

The tour of North Hills included a second, less frequently used den, the general direction of Quinn’s and Joanne’s apartments—
apartments, sheesh—
the breakfast room, the dining room, the formal dining room. There was a sitting room, a parlor, a formal living room, a receiving room, a movie theater, a billiards room, a library and a dozen or more unused bedrooms. There was the front hall that blew Emmy away with black and white marble tiles and twin marble staircases rising to the second floor. From the three-story ceiling hung a huge crystal chandelier which just dominated the space above the artfully placed table.

And then, he opened the doors on the left.

There was a two-story ballroom with a white and gray marble floor, sporting details in black marble. The walls had molding details framing a dozen tapestries hanging around the room. The walls were white with black details that followed up to the ceiling with white and reflective paneling. Not quite mirrors, but something that would have scattered light around the room if someone turned on the six enormous chandeliers. All of the windows were two-story like she’d seen in all the castles in Europe. Double sets of doors, essentially, that could open to let the air in. And the doors on the right led out to a veranda, which was framed by a pergola with retractable sunshades.

“Do you ever use it?” she asked, walking slowly out onto the intricate parquet floor.

“I haven’t yet,” he confessed. “I’ve had Mary here to dance across it, but that’s it. I haven’t really owned it long enough to throw a party in here.”

“How many rooms do you have?”

“Fifty.” Nathaniel paused. “I think.” He walked over and pulled the curtains wider on one of the French windows. “The whole house was brought over brick by brick from the Midlands of England, way back in the early eighteen hundreds. It was two hundred years old then. It’s been added onto since, and when I came up to see it after the last great-grandchild of the original owner died, I had to have it. I was going to get a nice place closer to the city, but I couldn’t let this house go.” He looked out the window. “I added the pool house and the garage, in the style of the original. The barn, at the back of the property is standard red, and the stables are heated.”

“You ride too, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re too good to be true,” she sighed.

“I am not,” he chided as she walked over.

“You have a Lambo in a twenty-car garage. You have a four-hundred year old Jacobean home. You have enough rooms to take on four additional people and the place doesn’t feel crowded. You have a housekeeper, a groundskeeper, and who knows how many actual staff to run the place. You are paying for my hospitalization. You saved my ass with the move, you moved my clothes here because you could, and you keep bringing me flowers.” She was standing just in front of him. “If you think I’m a lot to take in, Mr. Walsh, you need a mirror. Pronto.”

“Ms. Westerly, are you complaining about my spoiling you?”

“Yes, Mr. Walsh, I am.” She shook her head. “I’m not used to this.”

“You should get used to it,” he whispered, softly. “Because I plan to continue.” He was so close to her she could feel his heat again. He leaned in even more, capturing her eyes as he slipped his arm around her carefully. “I’m going to kiss you, Emmy. I’ve wanted to for days, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I think it hurts more that we haven’t been able to be this close,” she answered.

He lowered his head to hers, and gently kissed her. Softly, tenderly, he moved his lips on hers, parting his to gain permission with his tongue. She opened hers and answered with passion. They danced and teased each other with their lips and tongue, wrapped in a crooked embrace.

Emmy found her breath growing quick. She wanted him, and from the way his kisses were becoming hot, liquid and demanding, he felt the same. She pulled back just a little to disengage them. “Nathaniel.”

“I know, I know,” he said, with a disappointed growl. “Not until the cast is off and not until we’ve really talked about this.” He looked at her. “This is going to be a very long six weeks.”

“You have no idea.”

Chapter Six

After taking another week to sleep, relax and heal, Emmy started to go to and from work with Nathaniel and Victor. Nathaniel would come with her to the soup kitchen and she would wait on the benches during his dance lesson. The following Friday, three weeks after being attacked, the doctor took his cast off. It had been a greenstick splinter fracture, and he was as healed as the cast would allow.

The doctor had been pleased with her progress as well, and told her that in two weeks they could think about taking the cast off, instead of the three that were originally left. He liked the surgical site as well, and told her to just keep changing the dressing twice a day.

Every morning at North Hills was like waking up on a cloud. Everything was soft and white and clean. The cast had been hard to sleep in at first, but eventually Emmy found the right pillow configuration—there were enough of them on the bed—to really let her sleep. There were mornings when the room was too good to be true and she didn’t want to even climb out of the bed, lest she wake from a dream.

Joanne had a full breakfast every morning, and dinner waiting for them every night. The bed was remade perfectly when they all got back to North Hills each night. No matter what Emmy did, she couldn’t get the bed to look so perfect.

She had started wandering around the mansion, at first to start getting back into shape, but after only a few days of that, she started exploring the rooms. She picked a new room every night and wandered in, checking it out. Emmy found the entrance to the Tower room about four weeks after she first started exploring and was as giddy as a school girl when she pulled the door open and walked up the narrow stairs. The stairs, made of slate with slightly worn divots from feet over four hundred years, disgorged her into a fairly large, but completely empty room. It didn’t need furniture.

The four sets of three-pane-wide windows, one on each wall, were like nothing else in the building. Two of the panes, one on either side, were made of brightly colored stained glass in a mosaic pattern. In the center pane was clear leaded glass in geometric shapes. The room danced with color and light in the setting early-May sun. She walked up into the room, astonished and amazed.

La Sainte-Chappelle. That’s what it looks like.

She walked to the window and touched the glass. It had all the markings of a true Gothic piece that she could drag out of her brain. It had been a tiny passion of hers, architecture, and being in this mansion had poked at the sleeping giant and made it stir. She didn’t touch the leading, because she had the feeling it was truly lead. The mosaics were the figures of saints, and she could see the names at the bottom of each window. It seemed to be a curious mix of men and women. She walked around the room, looking at the windows so closely they lost their forms and became just simple specs of glass alight.

She sat down on the floor and watched the sun dance through the mosaic windows. Nathaniel and Victor were working on some project that had spilled into the evening after dinner and she didn’t want to impose on them. She was amazed by this room and liked the seclusion it offered. She needed to think, and she was having trouble doing that around Nathaniel.

Of course he was part of what she had to think about. She knew she was falling in love, but how did she even start to handle the BDSM side of herself in relationship like this? She loved the club. She loved what it gave her, and…it was now abundantly clear that Nathaniel was not going to be a sub. Not the way she had originally wanted him to be.

But that wasn’t why she was falling in love with him. He was smart, funny, sweet, kind, a bit naïve, and generous to a fault. Who else would go buy four whole beef tenderloins for the soup kitchen? He was patient and he worried about her. He’d been right about the security. She couldn’t ask him to put up with it if she refused the exact same thing.

There had been Franz who always worried about her, but he was more like a big brother now. Was it fair, though, that Nathaniel was going to have to put up with her baggage? She’d said it, a cargo plane full of it.
Hey. You messed up, sister. You didn’t tell him your limits.
Truth. They’d talked about his, but she’d forgotten he wasn’t a sub. He was going to cross lines she didn’t want crossed.

The cut-out bustier had been a surprise and a wonderful compromise. But even Dan, who had been with her for well over a year and a half, had never seen her completely naked. It scared her in ways she couldn’t put into words.

Sure you can. Freak. Deviant. Weirdo. All good to start with.

She was pretty fubar’ed. She knew Franz was holding her place at the club. She liked the club. She was completely in control there, and that’s what she needed. Control. Routine. No one to tell her what to do, no one to risk crossing a line.

Why couldn’t I just find another nice sub?

Nathaniel challenged her. Made her think, made her feel more than she’d felt in years. Years and years. The Domme had allowed her to shove all that ‘feelings’ shit to the back of her head and just be in the moment. Now, they were coming back up and she was having trouble dealing with them. There were too many things she had just shoved into the back of her mind and forgot.

Until he crossed the line. Until she’d been beaten up by a faceless assailant. Until Eric had reappeared in her boss’ life.

Now, she was a mess again. Physically and mentally.

This sucks.

Her phone pinged, and she pulled it out.

Nathaniel W:
House is too big, LOL. Where r u?

E Westerly:
Tower room. It’s amazing.

She sighed. It was time to start talking. All she really wanted to do, though, right at that moment, was to take him to bed. Longest dry spell since she was sixteen.

The door below opened and Nathaniel’s head appeared above the stairs. He was surprised for a moment, and looked around the room. “I’ve never been up here at sunset,” he marveled.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“La Sainte-Chapelle,” he said.

She laughed. “I thought the same thing.”

“I’m sorry we’ve been so busy, Emmy.” He sat down next to her on the highly polished dark wood floor. “Between the police investigation and trying to figure out the yard issues and what’s going on with the take-over, I’ve just been overwhelmed.”

“It’s okay.” She assured him. “I needed the time to think about everything. I get confused around you.”

“Why?” he asked softly.

“Because the first thing I want to do when I see you is tie you up and fuck your brains out,” she confessed. “Then I remember what happened, and I freak out a little, and I remember I can’t do anything anyway until this cast comes off.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Well, point three we can’t do anything about. You need to heal. Point one, I’m glad to see we’re on the same page.” Emmy looked at him confused. He smirked. “Because the first thing I want you to do to me when I see you is tie me up and fuck me.”

Emmy laughed. “So you’ve come over the dark side.”

“Only with you, sweetheart.” He touched her cheek gently. “I want to make that clear. You asked me to be a submissive, but I will only ever do this with you. I won’t go to another mistress. What you want, you can teach me.”

“Going to another mistress—”

“Isn’t going to happen,” he stated, again. “Look, it’s not the thrill of surrendering control completely, it’s the thrill of surrendering control to you. It’s
you
. Not any of the tricks or kinks which turn me on. That it’s you with those tricks and kicks, and you’re on the other end of…whatever.”

“You really thought about this.” She watched his face closely.

“Of course I have.” He nodded. “You can’t make me feel like that, and then assume I’m not going to think really hard about what’s going on.” He picked at the wood flooring. “I really do like doing very naughty things with you.”

“Just naughty?” she asked.

“Okay, mind-blowing kinky things.” She smiled at him. “But that’s the other thing we have to talk about, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is,” she agreed.

“What happened, Emmy?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. “I screwed up. I should have gone over my limits with you. I’m just so used to being in control, so used to my partners not doing anything without my say-so, I forgot you weren’t really a submissive. You didn’t do anything wrong. I freaked out.” She sighed. “Anal play is a hard limit for me. I’m sorry.”

He picked the floor for another minute. “I want you to go over your hard limits with me, but I want to know why.”

“I can’t, Nathaniel.” She shook her head. “I’m not in a place to talk about that...”

“Will you ever be?”

Emmy stared at him. Would she? She’d never had to explain her life to anyone before or after Franz; which, combined with her only foray into submissiveness, had spiraled her into the behavioral hospital for a solid week long stay. She’d been in hell trying to tell the doctors what had happened. That was when she put on the bustier and never looked back.

“I don’t know,” she said, softly.

He stood up and held out a hand. “Come on. We need to talk somewhere more comfortable than a wood floor. This is way too deep for an unfurnished room.”

Emmy took his hand and he helped her stand. She looked around the room and realized it was starting to get dark. She followed Nathaniel carefully down the stairs. Her side felt much better, even if the rib was still a little tender, and it wasn’t as hard to walk anymore.

He led her down more stairs and down the hallway. He stopped before her bedroom and opened a door, and Emmy realized it was his bedroom.

Nathaniel’s bedroom. He took her hand again and led her into the room. To call it a bedroom, she decided, was to completely understate the room.

They walked into a rugged, comfortable living room. There was a couch, a love seat and high backed Queen Anne chairs all done in plush, reddish leather. Emmy had the feeling if she sat down, she wouldn’t want to get up. The seating was arranged around a corner which sported a fireplace and a television stand. There was a coffee table, two end tables and two lamps to complete the sitting area.

“This is your bedroom?” she asked, quietly. She walked over to the opposite corner where there was a dark wood wardrobe sitting next to a door, which was on the left hand side of the open doorway. On the other side was a very tall chest of drawers which matched the wardrobe

“This is my sitting room,” he said, and stopped. “I’ve never brought you in here. You’ve been here for six weeks and I didn’t show you my room.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Oh, my God. I’m so sorry...” He pointed to the door. “That goes to the walk-in closet.” He motioned her through the door and walked through himself.

There was a king sized bed on the wall to the left, with a nightstand on either side. There was a deep red leather padded headboard that rose four feet above the top of the bed, and a footboard made of matching wood. There was another wardrobe in the far left corner, a chest of drawers on her right, and a dresser straight ahead. To the left of the dresser was a set of windows and to the right was another door. There were another two sets of windows on the right, all of them with drapes that could be pulled shut like the ones in the den.

He pointed to the door. “That’s the bathroom.” She felt him studying her as she looked around. “What do you think?”

“It’s gorgeous,” she said. “It’s you. It feels like you.”

He smiled, and walked back out to the sitting room. Nathaniel motioned her to the couch, while he went over to the fireplace. A few minutes later, there was a small fire casting its heat and light into the room. He walked over to the couch, which looked out windows to the dying light of day, and sat. Without a word, Emmy moved over and sat next to him on his right, keeping her still-casted arm from between them.

“We need to talk,” he said, “and I told Joanne and Victor to just leave us alone for the night. Nothing but the most serious emergencies. I am so sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk to you, that I didn’t show you my bedroom after you showed me yours.” He paused, then smirked. “Both of them.”

Emmy sighed. “Please don’t mention that.” 

“Why?” He looked at her. “You really are a very sexual creature, aren’t you? Not having intimacy is tough for you.”

“Yes, I told you. I actually enjoy and need what I do at the club.”

“Do you think you could ever be happy with just one person?”

“I truly don’t know.” Emmy looked down at her fingers. “I was happy with Dan, but he didn’t question me.”

“I’m not questioning you,” he countered. “I’m trying to understand you. But you won’t tell me why. There’s a lot of things you won’t tell me. I trust you, Emmy, I think you should know that by now. I want you to trust me, to talk to me.”

“Oh, Nathaniel, I do trust you.” She sought words to assure him. “But you have to understand, you don’t become a Domme because you feel like it. It’s a psychological drive or…a coping device. And right now, the coping device is breaking down for me. I can’t face those demons right now. I’ve felt like I am
completely
out of control of my life for weeks now, and I hate it. I need to be in control.”

“I feel like you’re never going to tell me,” he tried to make his case, “and I want you to. I want to know everything about you. Good, bad, indifferent. All of it. I told you I love you and that hasn’t changed.”

“Let me start to feel like I’m in control again, let me get the damn cast off,” Emmy held it up, “and I’ll see what I can do. It’s not going to be right away. Please don’t get the idea that I can just casually talk about it.”

“I’ll take it piecemeal.” He nodded. “But before that, you need to tell me what your hard limits are. I don’t ever want to see terror I’ve caused on your face again.”

Emmy sighed. “I am so sorry I didn’t tell you before. I should have. There’s usually a contract that outlines everything between a Domme and sub, but you’ve already said you’ll only do this for me.” She looked at him. “If you don’t want to, I’ll go, Nathaniel.”

He leaned in close to her ear. “I like your kink, mistress,” he whispered. “I like what you do to me.”

Emmy let out an exasperated sigh and moved slightly away from him. “Please, don’t.”

“Don’t?”

“You said it. I’m a sexual creature. This is hell.”

He pulled her back carefully. “Tell me your limits, Emmy. Even if you can’t tell me why.”

She leaned against him, settling in. It felt so nice to be there; she hoped it gave her the strength to get through this. She swallowed and then began. “The bra or bustier. But you knew that. And you came up with a good solution. I greatly enjoyed that.”

“So did I.” Nathaniel’s words were soft and filled with satisfaction.

“No anal play. At all, whatsoever. But I suspect you figured that out.” She looked at him.

“Yeah. I got that.”

“No binding my hands together,” she continued.

“That doesn’t seem like something—”

“Remember, there’s a reason I’ve never been a sub. I’m only a Domme. No binding my hands together.” Emmy thought for a moment. “There’s not much else. I’m just sorry you hit one of them.”