Dark Attraction: The Corde Noire Series (28 page)

Sighing, she rested her head against his chest. “I don’t care if you’re a Dom or a regular guy. I wanted you, Sebastian, and I was willing to take you any way I could get you. That’s why I became your sub.” She wiggled out of his embrace. “But you showed me you needed more. You’re a Dom. You’ll always be a Dom, and that’s the part I’m not sure I can live with.”

Sam went to the apartment door. Without glancing back at him, she opened it and gestured to the hallway outside.

“Thank you for the offer, but I have my own choices to make.”

“Just think about it, Sam. I want you to be mine again.”

Her heart was breaking. How could she let him walk away? He loved her, but Sam wasn’t convinced it was enough for them to succeed at a real relationship.

Before stepping into the hall, Sebastian hesitated at the door. She refrained from glancing up at him and instead focused her eyes on his black shoes.

He kissed the top of her head and then walked away. As Sebastian headed toward the elevator, she snuck one more peek at his incredible ass.

Are you sure, Sam?

If she ran after him, Sam knew she would end up changing her mind and handing him her heart. That was something she wasn’t willing to do … at least not yet.
 

Clasping the neck of the bottle of scotch, Sebastian stumbled through his bedroom door. He had downed half the bottle since coming home from The Shallows. He had gone there thinking he could win her back by telling her all the things he had kept locked away while she had been living under his roof.

That Sam had not returned with him had been a blow. Shit, it had destroyed him. Sebastian thought telling her what she had wanted to hear would end his suffering. But things had not gone according to plan. Instead of holding her in his arms, he was getting drunk.

In his bedroom, he banged the bottle on the bedside table. He wanted to drink more, drink until her face was erased from his mind, but that approach hadn’t worked for the past few nights. He doubted tonight would be much different. He needed to be clear in the morning. Sebastian had a lot of crap at work that had been piling up, because he had been too distracted thinking of her.

Running his hands through his hair, he cursed his fate. Why had he met her?

Falling back on the bed, the warmth of the alcohol relaxed him. Sebastian wished for sleep, so he could dream of her. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift.

He was sinking into a foggy twilight when he thought he heard something, like someone moving around in his penthouse. Chalking up the noise to the booze, he didn’t bother to move from his spot on the bed. Then, he heard it again. This time, it was distinctive, as if someone was coming up the stairs.

His eyes flew open, and he sat up. How in the hell had someone gotten in? He was taking a quick inventory of his bedroom, searching for a weapon, when a shadow crossed his bedroom door. Jumping from the bed, he was about to tackle the intruder when he stopped cold in his tracks.

“You really should update those codes on your front door,” Sam scolded, coming into the room.

Sebastian wiped his hand over his eyes, thinking he was either dreaming or very drunk.

Wearing faded jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt, Sam eased up to him. “You reek of scotch.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Does the scotch help you think?”

“It helps me to forget.” He moved away from her. “What are you doing here?”

She took in a deep breath and then had a seat on his bed. Tossing her purse to the side, she eyed his stainless watch on the bedside table. “I thought about what you said … about wanting to change, but not being able to because you’re a Dom. After you left, I realized something … I don’t want you to change, Sebastian. I like you as a Dom. It’s what attracted me to you … well, other than the fact that you’re so ….” She waved her hand at his muscular physique. “What I had to come to terms with was if I was willing to be your sub, permanently.”

He sat down next to her. “You don’t have to be my sub, just be mine.”

“Being yours means being your sub. If that’s what I have to do ….” She stood from the bed.

Dropping her T-shirt to the floor, Sam then slipped her jeans down her legs. By the time her bra and panties hit the ground, he was pulling her onto the bed.

Her hand brushed the matted hair from his forehead. “You told me once I wouldn’t be completely yours until I gave you something. The ultimate gift from a sub to her Dom.”

Sebastian nipped her chin. “You’ve already given me the ultimate gift, Sam.”

She curled her arms behind his neck. “I have? What is that?”

“Your heart, baby. It doesn’t get any better than that.”  

The big screen television in Sebastian’s living room was blaring the Saint’s football game throughout the penthouse. Sitting back on his white sofa in his blue jeans and a T-shirt, Sebastian had his bare feet up on his coffee table and a beer in his hand. He was grimacing at the refs on the TV for their lousy call against the Saints.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her. Naked and swinging those delicious hips from side to side, Sam came to the sofa carrying a book in her hand. The diamond collar around her neck twinkled in the sunlight filtering in through the open patio doors.

“You want to turn that down, Sebastian? I’m trying to study, and I can’t think.”

He reached for the remote next to him on the sofa. “I thought you were done with studying for the day.” He lowered the volume on the TV.

She dropped the book in her hand to the coffee table. “So did I, and then your father toppled this from the bookcase.”

He noted the title. “
Great Books of English Literature
. Didn’t even know I had that.”

“I think your father is trying to get me to bone up on English lit.”

“Did he tell you that?”

She shook her head. “He hasn’t spoken to me yet, but I’m sure we will get there one day.”

Smirking, Sebastian put his beer on the coffee table. “Good luck with that.”

“I’m not giving up on either of you.” She glanced up at the TV. “I think he just wants me to do well on the GRE tomorrow. I need a good score to get into grad school.”

“You’ll get in, Sam.” He patted the cushion next to him. “Stop worrying about the test.”

She flopped down on the sofa. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve studied English lit? Damn test is filled with that shit.”

“What did I say about cursing, Sam?” His eyes narrowed angrily.

She bowed her head. “Yes, Sir.”

“You know what I do when you curse.” He patted his thighs. “Assume the position.”

With a protesting sigh, Sam frowned at him. “Do we have to?”

“Across my knees, baby.”

She reclined across his lap and her body tensed as she waited. Sebastian’s hands went to her sides and began tickling her.

Sam rolled around and squealed on his lap. Soon, she was begging him to stop. 

Sebastian smiled as he tickled her. Yeah, this was a lot more fun than spanking
.
He never got to hear her wonderful giggle when he spanked her. He could listen to that laugh of hers for hours at a time.

After he finally let her up, Sam was out of breath, and her eyes were filled with tears. “I hate it when you do that.”

“I’m just teaching you to please me, Sam.” He patted her knee. “Now go and get me another beer.”

She stood from the sofa. “I think I liked you better when you didn’t drink beer or watch football.”

“What can I say? I’m a changed man.”

She went to the kitchen, and his eyes veered away from the television as he watched her round ass. Sebastian thought of the things he still planned on doing to that ass, but when she was ready.

“I thought we were supposed to be getting ready to go to that party at your mom’s this evening,” she complained, returning from the kitchen. “You said she wanted to introduce me to her friends.”

He took the beer from her and put it on the coffee table. “Ah, we need to talk about that.”

She sat down next to him. “What is it?” 

“I couldn’t tell my mother the truth about you being my sub.” He rubbed his hand over his chin. “So I told her to introduce you to her friends as my fiancée.”
     “Fiancée? Why did you do that? You could have just said I was your girlfriend. Now she will expect a wedding.”

“Not until next year.”

Her mouth fell open. “Next year? What did you tell her?”

“For my mother’s sake, let’s just put on a good show, shall we?” He pulled a small blue velvet box from the front pocket of his jeans. “You can wear that at the party.” With a very serious expression, he handed her the box.

“What’s this?” She ran her thumb over the velvet.

He picked up his beer, avoiding her eyes. “It will go with your collar.”

Frowning, Sam pried open the box. She had to look twice at the diamond solitaire, emerald-cut ring. “Sebastian, is this what I think it is?”

“You mean, Sir, don’t you?”

She slapped his arm. “Sebastian?”

He pointed the tip of his beer bottle at the ring. “It’s an engagement ring. You put it on the third finger of your left hand.”

“I know where it goes! Why did you get this? Is it for the party?”

“It’s not just for the party. I figured you could wear it around for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

He put the bottle on the coffee table. “Until next spring. I was thinking of a May wedding. Before it gets too hot in the city.”

“You want to marry me?”

He reached for the remote and turned off the TV. “Since I’ve already told my mother we’re engaged, we will probably have to.” He set the remote next to his beer. “So what do you say? Do you want to marry your Dom?” 

“Before I give you my answer, we should discuss my rules.”

“Rules?” He scowled. “I don’t like rules, Sam.” 

She snapped the ring box closed. “And you’ll have to go through a training period, to see if I want to take you on as a husband.” Sam put the box on the coffee table.

He worriedly looked from the ring box to her. “When do you want this training period to begin?”

“How about right now?”

Dipping his head to the side, Sebastian considered her offer. “I guess I could go along with that.”

“Good.” Sam put her arms around his neck. “Now, take off all your clothes.”

The End

Excerpt from Book 3 in The Corde Noire Series – His Dark Canvas

Coming 8/22/16

Through the haze of my martinis, I had spotted him across the wide dining room. Beneath the brass chandeliers, he had seemed different from all the other patrons there to celebrate the restaurant’s two-year anniversary. He had an arrogant walk, kicking out his legs as he strolled across the stone floor. He was lean, yet muscular, blessed with one of those bodies a woman would always notice. With dark blond hair and disquieting dark green eyes, he was a guy who knew he was good-looking and let everyone else know it too. I wasn’t usually attracted to that type, but this man…well, his confidence intrigued me.

“You’re Ella, Ella Winston,” he said in a voice like dark chocolate fondue; luscious, deep, and wickedly sexy.  

“Yeah,” I mumbled, “I’m the sous chef.”

“I know. Marcus told me.” His smile sank to the depths of my groin.
Wow.

He held out his hand to me, but I refused it.
Don’t touch him. You know what happens when you touch them.
   

“So, how do you know Marcus?” 

He laughed, and even above the din of the other people in the room, I could sense something different about his laugh. Unlike the insincere chortle of others, this man’s laugh got to me. Like his smile, I was having an unusual physical reaction, something that never happened with men. When most men laughed, I usually ran in the opposite direction.

“Marcus and I share the same friends.”

“What friends are those?” I asked, craving another martini.

“The wealthy kind, who like to support the arts.”

“The arts? I don’t get it.”

He chuckled again, lifting a green bottle of sparkling water in his hand. “I’m a painter. Marcus and I know a lot of people who like to pretend they are patrons and keep us gainfully employed.”

“Painter?” I shrugged, finding it hard to believe Marcus knew any painters. “What do you paint?”

“Portraits of women … usually with very little clothing.”

Oh yeah, I really needed another drink. “Is that lucrative?”

“For me it is.”

My eyes wandered around the dining room, desperate to find a rescue. I needed to get away from this man before I said or did something really stupid.

“Do you like art?” he pressed.

“Some art. I think it would depend on the passion I see in a painting.”

“The passion in a painting?” That laugh again. My toes tingled. Not good. “You sound like a painter, Ms. Winston.”

The martini glass in my hand suddenly weighed a ton. “Isn’t painting an obsession for an artist, like cooking is an obsession for a chef? Having an obsession is a healthy thing. It reminds us that we have a soul.”
     He nodded, seemingly approving of my drunken ramblings. “That’s very profound and also very true. I think you have a lot of talents yet to be discovered, Ella. May I call you Ella?”

“Ah, sure. Ella is fine.”  My mouth went dry. “What makes you think I have any talents … outside of cooking?”

“Just something I can sense.”

I tensed.
Oh God, does he know?
The same thought always haunted me when I met new people. I fought so hard to keep my little secret under control. Time to make a run for it.

“Don’t tell Marcus I have other talents. He’ll probably fire me.” I was about to turn away when he stopped me.

“If he ever does, you come and cook for me.”

I dropped my eyes to my martini glass. “Perhaps when you’re a rich and famous painter, you could look me up. I’ll probably need a job if Sans Regret ever closes.”

He leaned in closer, and I could just make out the small cleft in his pointy chin. “I promise, if you ever need a job, I’ll hire you.”

His mouth was so close to mine that I could have kissed his perfect thin lips, but, instead, I backed away. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I hope you do, Ella.”