Cuff Master (26 page)

In addition to the two beds and furniture, there were soft
brown rugs to complement the wooden floor, curtains on the bow window and a
full bathroom with a shower and bathtub.

The secret door beside the fireplace hidden by a crooked
bookcase led to much more. When the house was remodeled into one- and
two-bedroom apartments, the master bedchamber had been one of the two-bedroom
units with its own entrance from the alley.

Ethan’s mother and father took out the narrow stairs and
remodeled the second slightly smaller bedchamber into a nursery. Phalen turned
it into his dungeon when he came home from Afghanistan. After he moved to
Salem, Ethan took ownership of the master bedroom and dungeon.

Everything inside was new because he’d wanted only the right
gear for Morgan. It’d taken him seven months to get the dungeon ready for her.

He put the roller bags aside and watched Morgan walk around
the room. She placed her shoulder bag on the bed made up with a black and gray
comforter and matching pillows and kept walking.

The only thing he took out of his roller bag was his
portable gun safe. He carried it to a wall safe he’d installed after Phalen
moved out and stowed the gun and his badge.

“This is beautiful,” Morgan pronounced, though she stumbled
a little. “I admit it, Ethan. I was expecting a lot of black and badass dungeon
stuff.”

“Dungeon stuff?” he sneered. “Watch your language, sub. I
don’t have stuff. This bedroom is many things. A place to sleep, a place to
relax and a place to carry out every wicked fantasy you’ve ever entertained.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound insincere. The
room’s lovely, truly lovely.”

Ethan watched her scan the room. She kept looking, studying,
searching for the dungeon she’d expected.

“Listen to me, sweetie. Everything you were expecting to see
is here. You’ll not be disappointed. But there are going to be plenty of times
when our fantasies give way to the need for good old-fashioned lovemaking or
just to sleep. For that, I prefer the room to look like this.”

“I understand.”

“I hope you do.”

She nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m not turned off. I’m touched
that you care enough to not turn everything sexual between us into dominance
and submission or bondage.”

“While I admit to a certain affinity to seeing you cuffed
and helpless on the bed, which I haven’t done yet, never be afraid to say you’d
prefer to crawl into bed and pleasure each other without toys, devices or
staging a scene.”

Morgan set her bag down, faced him and walked up to him.
“You’re sweet. You’ve made me feel at home.”

“You are home, Morgan.” Ethan drew her into him, tightening
his arms until she was snug against his body.

They still wore their coats. The bags needed to be unpacked
and there was much to come.

For the time being, Ethan was going to ignore everything
except the taste of her sweet lips. Lowering his head, he licked her mouth as
they closed in for a kiss. They lingered, enjoying the moment together.

As hard as his cock had become simply from holding her,
Ethan didn’t press or change gears. He kept kissing her with the gentleness she
deserved. Placing his hands on either side of her face, he held her steady as
their tongues played.

Morgan was the one who changed momentum. She withdrew enough
to bite his lower lip, sucking it into her mouth.

“I love you, Ethan Maddox,” she said after releasing his
lip.

He leaned back. “Love you too. But you do that again, expect
to answer for it.”

She grinned and turned her head, causing his hand to slide
to her mouth. Biting down, she left indents from her teeth and softened the
sting by sucking his index finger.

Keeping her guessing, he shook his head, jerked his hand
away and set her back several steps. “For that, you are to wait right here
until I call you to come eat dinner. When you do, wear nothing.”

“Really, nothing at all? What about the tour?”

“I dislike repeating myself.” Ethan moved away. “While I’m
downstairs, put the clothes away. Don’t worry about clothes that need to be
hung in the closet. I’ll do that later. Shirts, jeans, panties, underwear and
everything else can be put into the dressers.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not your slave, Ethan!”

“Never said you were, doesn’t mean you get out of your task.
You’re to do it. No questions, no hesitation, no fear.”

“I’m not afraid of it. I don’t understand. I thought we’d,
you know, play, fuck…something.”

“All of the above we will do, love. Do as you’re told. If
you wish to keep your discipline light, that’s all I ask.” Ethan shrugged out
of his coat, then assisted Morgan with hers. “I’ll make you a meal fit for a
queen.”

She didn’t move. She was wavering between pissed off and
curious. Already her eyes had widened and her mind was racing with
possibilities of what would happen if she objected.

Ethan went to the door. “One thing, Morgan, do not do
anything more than what I’ve told you. Don’t go searching for what you’ll never
find until I reveal it.”

Morgan didn’t respond. He glanced back and saw that her
expression hadn’t changed.

Ethan left her alone in the room. She could do what she was
told or tell him to fuck off. As with everything in their D/s lifestyle, the
decision on how the night would go was up to her.

He went downstairs to find Taran pigging out on a sandwich.
“Thought for sure you’d be out of here by now,” Ethan said.

“Had to get dressed and grab my suitcase,” Taran explained.
“Really am sorry I interrupted you and Morgan.”

“No, you’re not.”

Taran took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly,
finally swallowing the food. “Okay, I’m not. Morgan’s a beautiful woman.
Couldn’t help but stare. It was the way she looked at you with love that caught
my eye, bro. She’s got it bad for you.”

“Goes both ways, Taran, just keep your eyes to yourself.
She’s going to be your sister-in-law soon.”

Little brother’s brow shot up. “Another wedding? When’s the
big day? I should be best man for this one. Phalen’s all settled down and
domesticated now.”

“Haven’t asked officially,” Ethan admitted. “I’m planning
something special for her over Samhain.”

“Is it going to be similar to what big bro did?”

“Doubtful, I don’t do anything the way he does.”

Taran laughed heartily. “Yeah, you’re nothing like him. You
look in a mirror lately? Except for the fact that you have short hair, you two
could be twins.”

“Physically we look alike, doesn’t mean we do things the
same way. We clear?”

“If you say so,” Taran said, finishing the last of his
sandwich. “I’ve got to get moving. Samson and Delilah are bound to be missing
their favorite uncle.”

“Morgan bought them a boatload of toys today. They’re very
happy. And I’m the favorite.”

“You always were with Mom and Dad…and Phalen,” Taran
commented, sadder this time.

“What the hell, bro? Don’t say that,” Ethan implored. Taran
closed that door by walking off on the pretense of grabbing his coat from the
foyer closet.

Taran had been the troublemaker growing up. He’d also been
the peacemaker whenever Ethan and Phalen got into it. And sometimes their
fights were downright brutal.

Ethan and Phalen were a lot alike. Their similarities were
one of the reasons they argued. Still, they were close enough in age that Ethan
was able to tag along on double dates, have crushes on Phalen’s girlfriends,
which pissed big brother off more times than not, or go on road trips.

On the other hand, Taran and Phalen rarely if ever
disagreed. If anything, Taran had worshipped the ground Phalen walked on. He’d
always wanted to be included and being the youngest, sometimes that simply
wasn’t possible.

Phalen learned tattooing first. He’d been the first of them
to get laid, to get drunk, to get into fights, to get Ethan and Taran out of
fights with neighborhood bullies and to get his ass set straight by their mom
when he stepped out of line. Their father might have been the heavy, but none
of them had wanted to disappoint Abigael.

Ethan had been the next in line to learn the family
business. Taran had always felt a step behind. He hadn’t been able to learn
tattooing from their dad because their parents died before Taran had the
chance. But there was never any doubt that Taran had been loved equally by
their parents.

Taran returned to the kitchen to grab his keys off the rack
on the wall. The key rack had been there since they were kids. It was old, worn
and had been repaired with duct tape, nails and wood glue. It was ugly.

Yet it was as much a part of the house as everything else
their parents had added. It would never be replaced.

“Taran,” Ethan said before Taran could walk out of the
kitchen. His coat was on. He was anxious to leave.

“Yeah, bro?” Taran stopped at the doorway, turning back.

“I love you,” Ethan told him, no matter if it’d get him some
ribbing for sounding sappy.

“I know that. Thanks.”

“In that case, say it back.”

“I love you too, bro. No need to freak out. I’m just feeling
sorry for myself. You have Morgan now. Phalen has Cassie. Hell, your partner
isn’t even mine yet and I refuse to go looking for a woman simply to get laid.
That’s all I could offer if I’m not with Samantha.”

Ethan went up to Taran, looked him square in the eye and grabbed
him up close before his brother could object. “Be patient with Sam. There’s a
lot you don’t know about her yet. She’s been hurt so many times that trust
doesn’t come easy for her.”

“Hurt? How? Dammit, if some fucker put his hands on her,
I’ll kill him.”

“I can’t answer that, Taran. I can tell you that there’s no
partner I’d rather have than Sam Riley. She’s headstrong, loyal to a fault and
will never give up seeking justice for those who’ve been wronged.”

“Now I’m never giving up on finding out the truth, Ethan.
I’ll do the honorable thing and let Samantha tell me. If it means I have to
wait, so be it. If it turns out someone beat her or…fuck, it makes me sick to
think it, if she was violated or abused in any way, I will send the sonofabitch
to Hell.”

Ethan nodded. That was the Taran he knew, cocky, sure of
himself and one hundred percent honest with his intentions.

“Can you let me go now?” Taran asked. “I’d like to get to
Salem before your woman comes downstairs. I heard her grumbling up there. Not
sure it bodes well for you.”

“It’ll be all right,” Ethan said. “Text me when you get to
Phalen’s house so I know you got there safe.”

“Sure thing, Dad,” Taran promised, stepping back.

“I’ll follow you out. I need to grab some things from my
car.” Ethan took his keys from his pants pocket and headed out the kitchen door
to the alley.

It didn’t take long to wave Taran off and head over to the
parking lot to grab the remaining bags from the trunk. He returned to the
house, entered through the kitchen and dumped everything in the hallway.

Time ticked away. Morgan remained in their bedroom. Ethan
set about making supper. He opted for a big salad with balsamic vinaigrette
dressing and made a couple of peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

While he and Morgan had been at Phalen’s, he’d noticed she
enjoyed eating bananas when she wanted a snack. She’d said she liked peanut
butter so he guessed she’d like the sandwiches that his mom taught him to make
when he was a kid.

Setting the dinette table for two, he made sure to fill two
glasses of iced tea before calling up to Morgan. He checked the clock. He’d
left her alone for more than an hour.

Going over to the intercom system that had been installed
throughout the house a long time ago, Ethan punched a button for the master bedroom.

“Time for dinner, Morgan, come on down,” he invited.

She didn’t respond through the speaker. Ethan waited,
listening until he heard her footsteps in the hallway upstairs. The only
question he had at the moment was whether she’d taken him up on the challenge
he’d issued upstairs.

Her steps came closer, down the stairs, almost to the
kitchen. She tended to go barefoot when she was comfortable around the house.
She was definitely wearing shoes, her steps clicked as she walked.

Turning his head to watch as she entered, he didn’t fight
his victorious smile. Oh she took him up on his challenge, big time. And he was
rock-fucking-hard in an instant.

Not that he’d let her know it. Making sure his fly was
suitably fastened and his polo shirt hid his erection, he enjoyed the view.

Morgan wore a cute black baby-doll nighty made of some kind
of slinky material that barely covered her ultra-fine ass. Her auburn hair was
bound into one big plait and fell over her right shoulder. She wore fuck-me
black pumps that made her six feet tall.

Her face glowed with vitality and beauty. She’d put on
makeup, freshened up and presented to him a picture of seduction. She was
beautiful. In the future, he’d reward her.

But she’d deliberately chosen to go against his command,
something he couldn’t ignore. “I do believe you’re wearing too many clothes,
sub.”

“I chose otherwise,” she answered, stepping into the kitchen
as bold as you please and striking a pose that could rock a freakin’ runway.

“I can see that. You understand there’s a consequence for
disobedience?”

Morgan stopped halfway across the kitchen, steadying herself
by grabbing a heavy wooden kitchen chair. As sexy as she was, walking in those
shoes had to be killing her feet and ankles.

“Yes, I thought you would prefer me in something pretty and
sexy. Don’t you like this?” she asked, flicking her head back so that her braid
flipped off her shoulder and fell down her back.

Ethan grinned, deciding to play a game of cat and mouse with
her. “I love it. You look amazing.”