Dark Attraction: The Corde Noire Series (22 page)

He was devastated by her response. Taking her in his arms, he held her close and kissed her lips.

She sank into him and the taste of her was more than he could bear. He wanted her. He wanted to ram into her over and over again. Instead of giving into his temptation, he knew he had to please her. He had to reward her for toughing out his spanking. After pushing her back on the bed, he oiled up his hands. Kissing along her breasts and stomach, Sebastian worked his way down to his favorite place. 

“I’m going to reward you for being so good,” he said, spreading her legs apart. “Something very special.”

He slid two fingers into her. She was already so wet, and he knew then she hadn’t been lying about liking the spanking. When she moaned as he slid his fingers in and out, Sebastian smiled. He lowered his mouth over her clit, sucking hard and letting his teeth graze the edges of her. With his other hand, he spread her butt cheeks and gently nudged two fingers into her. Working both hands in slow thrusting motions, he kept his mouth on her, making circles around her clit.

Sebastian was methodical in his technique, knowing that his repeated steady movements would make her orgasm go on for several minutes. He could feel the change in her almost instantly … that rise and fall as her orgasm slowly built up steam. She was so sensitive, so attuned to his hands and tongue; he knew the slightest change would send her hurtling way too quickly into that swell of ecstasy.

Soon she was panting, grabbing at the comforter, and making deep guttural sounds. She was getting close. When the quivering started in her thigh muscles, he kept on. She was rising from the bed, groaning, when he felt her lower body clamp down in one intense contraction. Then he pressed his fingers deep into her and bit down on her clit.

The scream she made was more animal than human, as if she were returning to some primitive self. While her flesh squeezed around his fingers, the wetness squirted out of her. The waves went on and on and she eventually lost her voice from screaming.

By the time she collapsed on the bed, she was breathing hard. Climbing up her body, he kissed that spot between her breasts and peered into her face.

“Did you like that?”

She closed her eyes, her chest still heaving. “What did you do to me? I never knew anything like that could happen.” 

“That’s the Venus Butterfly, baby. Guaranteed to make any woman come for several minutes.” He stood from the bed. “You did very well tonight.”

She sat up on her elbows. “I’m glad you’re pleased.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Are you?”

“If you’re pleased, then I’m pleased.”    

He stepped back from the bed. “Just do as I say, follow my commands, and you will please me, Sam.” He went to the bathroom doorway. Stopping below the arch, he turned to her. “I’m glad you’re getting the hang of this. In the beginning, I wasn’t sure.”

“Sure of what? That I would do as you ask, or if I would go along with your system of reward … and punishment?”

“Both. I’ve always felt you weren’t committed to this.”

Like a jungle cat, she got up from the bed and came toward him. “Do you think I’m committed now?”

He gazed into her stellar eyes and felt that uncertainty grip him. Only this time it wasn’t uncertainty about her, it was about him. How much longer could he continue with her before losing himself completely?

“Let me change and I’ll meet you downstairs. It’s time for your cooking lesson.” He went to the bathroom sink.

Running his hands beneath the warm water, he noticed they were shaking. It would seem she was already getting to him, and he was helpless to stop it.           

Two days later, Sam was in Sebastian’s office after he had left for work. The weekend was ahead and she was looking forward to spending time together. He had always left early for work and only came home in the evenings after sunset. She had enjoyed their nights at home, but it was the tedium of the long days alone in his penthouse that was making her stir-crazy. Sam desperately needed to get out.

Returning to the chapter she had been reading on the ship building techniques used during the Civil War, she thought she heard the sound of footsteps in the room.

He was back. Jack Dane had been a frequent visitor during her time in his office. It seemed he preferred this room to others in the penthouse. It was no wonder. Sam got the impression he had died there.

“Hello, Mr. Dane.”

There was never an answer. He never spoke to her, and since their first meeting he had never shown himself again. He was just a presence. Always there, always watching.

The peace of the room was interrupted by the thud of something falling from one of the bookcases behind her. Spinning around, Sam noticed a book on the floor.

A cool breeze drifted by her shoulder. She knew who had tipped the book from the bookcase, the only question she had was why.

Climbing out of Sebastian’s comfy desk chair, she retrieved the book. Turning it over, she was taken aback by the title,
Great Recipes from New Orleans Restaurants
.

“This could be interesting.”

Dozens of pages in the book had been earmarked with white strips of paper. On the paper, the name of recipes had been written.

Opening the book to a page marked Shrimp Remoulade, Sam read through the recipe. A staple at Galatoire’s Restaurant, the recipe made her mouth water, but Sam knew the skills needed to execute the dish were way beyond her.

From the marked pages, Sam guessed Sebastian had tried to keep a record of his favorite menu items from many of the city’s most exclusive restaurants. After flicking through a few more complex recipes, she happened on a page near the back of the book that was more worn than the others, as if the recipe had been referenced again and again. Strawberry pancakes.    

It seemed easy enough, and the ingredients were sure to be in Sebastian’s pantry. Sam was confident she could recreate it, but would he like it?

“There’s only one way to find out.”

At the office door, the chilly air once again swept by her. Stopping, she whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Dane.”   

There was no noise, no slight whisper in the room; all that greeted her was silence. In Sam’s experience, most ghosts couldn’t wait to communicate with her once they discovered she could see them, but Jack Dane was different. He didn’t want to talk. Sam was getting the impression all he wanted to do was help.  

*     *     *

After spending most of her day in the kitchen, Sam was excited for Sebastian to walk in the door after work. She had learned a lot about him from his recipe book and his kitchen. Besides how to prepare strawberry pancakes and Tujaque’s Restaurant Supreme Chicken Salad, Sam had gotten a few more insights into Sebastian’s psyche.

He had a penchant for labels. Sebastian labeled everything in his pantry; from condiments to coffee … he even had labels on his spice rack. He also preferred his life neat and orderly; his pantry was stocked alphabetically, his baking utensils laid out side by side, and his grocery list was written on a memo board tacked to the inside of his pantry door.   

It was obvious Sebastian embraced being a Dom because it offered him control, but Sam was sure there was more to him than that. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she had begun to sense that there was something eating at him. Ever since she had found him in his office, nursing his bottle of scotch, Sam had suspected he had demons. She had enough experience with people who drank to know that booze was consumed to numb the pain in one’s soul, and not to forget their past.

When her cell phone pinged with an incoming text, she smiled when she saw his message.

Home in ten minutes.

Thanks for the heads up,
she texted back.
I have a surprise for you
.

Do I need to call my insurance company?
Sam could almost see him grinning.

I don’t think you’re covered for this.

She figured her last text would drive him mad with worry.

After checking the plates on the dining room table, Sam opened the bottle of wine she had selected from the list of preferred wines Sebastian had secured to his pantry door. Once she was satisfied that everything was ready, she dashed to the front door.

When he stepped into the penthouse, he was more careworn than usual. His eyes didn’t sparkle like they usually did, and his exuberant strut was a little slower.

“Long day?” she offered, as he trotted down the steps to her.

He nodded but did not reach out to touch her. “Very long.”

“Well, I have something to make it better.”

He raised his nose in the air. “What is that smell?”

She took his arm. “Dinner.”

Sam led him to the dining room and pulled out a chair at the head of the table.

“You cooked?” he said with more shock than excitement.

“Yes, Sir.” She removed his napkin from his plate and set it in his lap.

Sebastian held her forearm before she could move away. “Is my kitchen still in one piece?”

“I promise there are no scorch marks on the ceiling. Maybe a few on the walls, but nothing a little elbow grease can’t get rid of.”

He let go of her arm. “You’re scaring me.” He stretched for the bottle of wine. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve accomplished.”

Sam jogged into the kitchen, her stomach bursting with butterflies. She found it disconcerting how the idea of preparing a dish she knew he liked was almost as addictive as giving him her body. Lifting the tray of pancakes, syrup, whipped cream, and strawberries, she carried it into the dining room.

When Sebastian saw the pancakes, his eyes lit up like a five-year-old on Christmas morning. The joy that one moment gave Sam made up for all the confusion she had been suffering lately.

“Pancakes for dinner.” He laughed; a happy, soulful chortle, like the one she had heard after their first meeting at The Shallows. “I haven’t had that since ….”

“Since when?” She set the tray on the table.

“Since I was a kid.” He filled her wineglass. “My mother would make them for me when I was sick or … upset. When I was a teenager, I told her I was too big for pancakes for dinner.” 

Sam settled into the chair next to his. “Growing up doesn’t mean you have to grow old.”

Sebastian stabbed at the stack of pancakes with his fork. “My father would disagree with you. He thought once I hit thirteen, I was a man and should act like it.”

“I don’t think he believes that anymore,” Sam divulged, and took a sip of wine.

He poured some syrup from the white gravy boat on his plate. “What makes you say that? Did his ghost speak to you?”

Sam put her wineglass down. “He doesn’t speak to me. He guided me to your recipe book. The one about New Orleans restaurants. I think he wanted to help me do something nice for you.”

“He would never have done something so … heartfelt. The man didn’t have a heart.”

She studied his sullen expression. “The ghost, perhaps, is different from the man you knew.”

“I seriously doubt that. My father loved tormenting me. Even after he was dead, he left behind so many obstacles for me … it doesn’t matter.” He picked up his knife and fork.

“What kind of obstacles?”

His countenance softened. “The business was a mess when I took it over. The last few years my father was in charge, he was sick. He had let a lot of important contracts go. I spent years winning back customers we had lost.”

Sam dropped two pancakes on her plate. “That must have been hard.”

“It was a lot of late nights.”

She put her fork down. “No, I was talking about discovering your father had been so sick after he was gone. Probably was heartbreaking to know he’d kept that from you.”

He lowered his eyes to his plate. For several seconds, he said nothing. Finally, he mumbled, “It was the way my old man wanted it.”

“But it wasn’t the way you wanted it, was it, Sebastian?”

He met her eyes with a cold stare. “It’s Sir, Sam.”   

A heaviness enveloped her. For a few brief moments, she had forgotten about being his sub. She had just been Sam, and he had been the man who had stolen her heart … not the Dom who was ripping it to shreds. 

*     *     *

After dinner, Sebastian helped her clean the kitchen. He was laughing at the way she was playing with the bubbles floating up from the sink. When a few bubbles landed on her breasts, he came up to her, staring at the way they glistened on her skin.

On impulse, he took a handful of the suds and smeared them over her breasts. Sam giggled as his fingers fondled her. His play took on a more amorous tone, and she moved closer to him.

The soapsuds were dripping on his light blue shirt as she bellied up to him. When his hands went to her ass, she wrapped her arms around him. He started kissing her, something he had not done in days, and Sam was thrilled by the attention.

Eagerly returning his kiss, she felt his cock come to life. Before she knew it, he had her on the island countertop. The granite was like ice against her skin, while his kisses burned like fire. Sam was grabbing at his pants, eager to have him inside her. Before she could lower his zipper, he stopped her.

“Do you want to please me?”

Sam was startled by the darkness she saw in his eyes. It was a calculating kind of gaze that must have served him well in the business world, but made her blood run cold.

His grip tightened on her wrists. “Answer me, Sam.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“On your knees,” he ordered, pointing to the floor.

Climbing off the island, Sam kneeled on the floor before him. Sebastian unzipped his trousers and peered down at her. “Then please me.”

The look of indifference in his eyes had her feeling lower than dirt.

“Do it,” he snapped.

Fearing the consequences if she refused, Sam gingerly tugged his pants lower. With him already fully erect, she realized the thrill of having her do his bidding was what turned him on, not his desire to have her.

Taking his hard cock in her hand, she kissed his tip and eased him into her mouth, remembering his instructions. She began rocking back and forth, moving her lips over his shaft. He stood over her, watching. His eyes reminded her of a bottomless crystal blue lake, bereft of any emotion.  

Concentrating on the task at hand, she pushed him deeper into her mouth, rubbing her tongue against him. It did not take long before he was moving in time with her. When his hands went to her head, forcing his cock to the back of her throat, she fought back the urge to gag. Grunting, he curled inward and came in her mouth.

While he zipped up his pants, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You need to work on that,” he told her as she stood from the floor. “From now on when I come home, you will be expected to give me a blow job.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Master. I want you to call me Master … like a true slave.”

He headed out of the kitchen, his words still ringing in her ears.

Slave.
Sam had never counted on their time together coming to this. Now that it had, she was still not ready to give him up. She believed there was more to what they had than mere role-playing. There was something else inside of Sebastian that was not a Dom, not a Master, but a man in dire need of a woman to understand him. Sam was convinced she was that woman.

“Maybe this is all starting to get to me.”

Rubbing her hand over her mouth one more time, she wondered how much longer was she willing to participate in this twisted experiment.

“Give it time, Sam,” she muttered, bolstering her flagging fortitude. “When you no longer wish to be his, then you can walk away.”