Platinum (Facets of Passion) (8 page)

Althea turned her hand over and laced her fingers with Abby’s. “I will. I promise—I’m having fun. He’s…different and exciting. I think this is good for me. And when it’s over, I’ll think about what kind of man I really want.”

Abby raised her glass a second time. “Cheers then, honey. Cheers.”

Chapter Eight

She ran the rest of her errands in a daze, her thoughts sinking into carnal ruminations and imaginations of Steel and his various lurid promises and then pinging to Abby’s concern.

I
don’t
want
to
see
you
end
up
some
guy’s
puppet
.

Her mother was like that—cool, lovely and accommodating on her husband’s authoritative arm. She gave way graciously, every time, like a lady should, and she’d taught Althea to do the same. It simply wasn’t good manners to be difficult. As for Cheri—well, Althea knew she let the shop girl get away with a great deal. But the gallery job didn’t pay all that well, and it just usually wasn’t that big of a deal to let her have some slack now and then. Besides, it was so much easier just to go along. It made everyone happy. Some things just weren’t worth fighting for.

But what went on between her and Steel—that was different.

Exactly how, she wasn’t sure. She did know, however, that she was determined to follow this through. She’d let him do whatever he wished to her until his wicked satyr was complete and he went on his way.

Even when her accountant went over the numbers with her, showing the damming evidence of looming failure despite the infusion of Steel’s cash, her mind went more to what he might be doing just then. And what he meant by saying it didn’t matter what she wore. Did he just mean she’d be naked? Or would she be wearing something…
else
?

“I suggest getting a loan from your father, then, to keep the gallery afloat until things change,” Stan was saying.

Oh
,
hells
no
.

Althea shook her head, all sexy thoughts dissolving in the face of hard reality. She adjusted her glasses on her nose and peered at the columns of numbers. People could use bigger fonts—it would be so much easier for her eyes to focus on. But they never thought of it and she didn’t like to complain.

“The gallery is my responsibility. My failure. I’ll start liquidating. Maybe I can eke out enough to live on for a few months.” Her heart fluttered at the thought. She’d have to sell the building and move. Her parents would want her to move back into the family historic landmark on East Bay Street—a lovely mansion, as gracious and perfectly behaved as her mother. She’d have to give the cats away if she did that. No. She’d find a shop-girl job and a cheapie apartment outside town rather than that.

“Thea—lots of shops in town have been hard hit by the downturn. You just have to weather it. This is your dream.”

“No, it’s just a living and I’ll find another.” She shrugged, as if her heart weren’t breaking for a second time. Maybe she wasn’t meant to have anything to do with art. The gallery had been a consolation prize, the business she bought with her trust fund money when she left art school. Surely she could come up with a Plan C. She gathered up the papers. “Thank you for working so hard on this. It’s good to have hard numbers on what I need to extricate myself from this mess.”

Stan pulled off his own glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like the new lingo much, but if you can, think outside the box, Althea. Miracles don’t happen unless you pray for them.”

She stood, picked up her purse and turned to go. Turned back. “I’m not much for miracles, Stan, but I do believe God helps those who help themselves. Along those lines—from now on, I’d be obliged if you’d put these reports in a bigger font, so I can see for myself what they say.”

Stan blinked at her. “I’m sorry, Thea. I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t,” she replied with a sweet smile. “But now you will. Have a lovely afternoon.”

Back at the gallery, she sat her desk for a bit, carefully filing the papers and making some notes on how she’d stage the liquidation. The cleaning crew had been in and the place smelled comfortingly of lemon oil and sunshine. She listed dealers who might be willing to buy the pricier stuff at a discounted rate. With a twist of grim pleasure, she decided to cut her worst diva artist client first. No sense in drawing out the drama on that one. Steel’s metal beat pounded under her feet, alluring, promising mindless lust. An escape only, not a solution to her problems.

For the rest, she’d start with a special, then progressively greater cuts in price, before she declared a full Going Out of Business sale.
Tacky
, her mother’s disapproving voice whispered. Her gaze fell on the marble sculpture she loved. Maybe she’d donate one or two pieces to local museums or the Junior League’s current pet charity and claim the tax credits. She made a note to ask Stan.

Finally, she felt she’d devoted herself to business enough. The sense of desperation gnawed at her heart so that she felt like curling up in a corner and weeping. She went upstairs, played with Artemisia and Tassi for a bit, then undressed and tossed her clothes in the hamper for the dry cleaner. No, she should start hand-washing what she could, to start her new life of genteel poverty.

At least Steel could be counted on not to sneer at her for it.

Anticipation warmed and dampened her as she pulled on a pale rose silk robe, so she’d have something to wear back upstairs. She left her glasses on the dresser.

With a sense of fatalistic calm, she descended her stairs, then coded in the alarm that kept her personal beast confined to his dungeon. At the bottom of his steps, she waited in her taped-in box to be told what to do.

The satyr gleamed under the spotlights, its rampant cock now coated with a shiny layer of brass. That would feel smoother on her tongue as she tried to swallow more of it. Her face heated that she now thought so easily of what Steel would have her do with it. Would he have it penetrate her in other ways? Most likely. The thought shivered through her.

“Hi.” Steel came around the corner, startling her out of her prurient speculations. “Finished your errands? Did you have a good day?”

“Nothing I care to talk about, really.”

A tremor undermined her cool tone, but she returned his scrutiny with a defiant stare. He studied her, a flicker of concern in his warm brown eyes, as he wiped his hands on a paint rag. He wore paint-splattered ripped jeans and a black undershirt, equally stained. Seeming to make a decision, he nodded. “Good enough. Hang up your robe. Put on the things in that bag and come see this when you’re ready.”

He disappeared back around the corner and she examined the shopping bag from the high-end lingerie store. She pulled out a negligee of black lace and sheer nothing, along with a g-string and
very
high-heeled silver platform sandals. With a sigh for the black that would overwhelm her coloring, she pulled on the panties and gown. If you could call it that. Though it swept to her ankles, the black lace parted all the way to the neckline in a vee-shape—covering nothing of her front. The lace barely scraped over her nipples and would fall away with the least movement. She decided against the slutty heels.

Carrying the shoes by the straps, she went around the corner to find Steel had set up several canvases, with more lights. His eyes swept up and down her, pausing at her bare feet.

“You look beyond lovely, princess—but you didn’t put on the shoes.” His voice, though soft, carried a note that made her nipples harden and a shiver of trepidation to ripple through her sex.

“The heels are too much,” she found herself stammering. “I can’t walk gracefully in them.”

“Then you will practice. After I punish you for disobeying.”

Her mouth went dry. “Pu…punish me?”

His grin turned wolfish and he tossed down the paintbrush he’d been using. “I didn’t hope you’d give me an excuse to spank your lovely white ass this soon, but I’m delighted that you did. Tell me, princess, did you disobey on purpose so I would?”

She couldn’t answer past her hammering heart. Had she? No. Yes?

Steel cupped her chin and raised it so she looked in his eyes. His hand smelled of oil paints and solvent. His other hand brushed aside the lace barely covering her breast and tweaked her nipple. She shuddered, every thump of her heart pulsing more heat between her legs.

“What do you think? I should spank you for not following the rules, yes?”

She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his intent gaze any longer. “Yes,” she whispered.
Yes
.

He kissed her, still holding her by the chin and one throbbing nipple. Any thoughts she’d had flew apart and she kissed him back with longing and overwhelming desire.

Steel took her by the hand and led her over to the armless wooden chair they’d had sex on the day before. He sat, spreading his knees and pulling a length of black ribbon out of his pocket. His eyes gleamed with unholy excitement. “Turn around, wrists together behind your back.”

Trembling, she obeyed, holding still while he lashed her wrists together tightly.

“Over my lap now.”

It wasn’t easy to maneuver with her hands tied, but he helped ease her over his knees, the rough denim scraping her naked skin. He adjusted her so he held all her weight over his spread knees, her breasts dangling in the air on one side, her legs kicking helplessly on the other. He eased the negligee from under her, pulled it through her bound arms and raised it so it draped over her head in a shadowy tent.

Her breath came in short pants while her emotional self spun. She felt like a child and yet there was nothing childish about this. The frank sexuality of it reduced her to shivering vulnerability. He stroked a hand over her naked bottom, then pulled the g-string down so it dangled over her ankles.

She moaned, low in her chest.

He reached under, gathering her breasts together in one large hand. “You can say the word, princess, if you’re not ready for this.”

She held her breath, biting her tongue, suddenly afraid that he wouldn’t do it.

He chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

Then his hand cracked down on her bottom and a shriek exploded out of her. Astonished at the sharp pain, she struggled to catch her breath, to regain her composure, but his hand smacked down again and she unexpectedly burst into tears. Never in her life had anyone struck her and now the stinging slaps on her bare bottom seemed to penetrate into her very soul.

She wept and writhed on Steel’s lap, letting the physical pain wrap around the emotional pain of her failure. Losing the gallery, losing her art, none of it seemed as real as this moment, the transportation of punishment from her fierce lover. She couldn’t fight this and didn’t need to. With a sense of overwhelming gratitude, she relinquished all control and succumbed to it.

Sobbing for air, she became aware that with each smack of Steel’s hand, a new tension built. As if some kind of resistance in her had melted away, leaving pure blazing desire in its wake. She pushed her breasts into his hand, needing more, her sex hot and aching. He responded by squeezing harder. The new near-pain rocketing to her groin, she ground her mound into his thigh, desperate with hunger.

He plunged his fingers into her hot, slick folds, seizing her in a sudden, tight grip.

Impossibly, she came instantly, like an earthen dam collapsing, all of her pouring out into his hand, leaving her spent and limp across his lap.

Steel released her breasts and ran gentle hands over her body, untying the ribbon around her wrists and soothing the fiery skin of her blazing bottom.

“Doing okay, princess?”

She nodded. She was okay. Her face was drenched with tears but her heart was finally free of the day’s tensions. He helped her up, stroking her gown and hair out of her face, and handed her a tissue. She sat in the chair, hissing at the ache, and wiped the tears away. The tiny g-string had fallen off at some point and lay discarded on the floor.

“I didn’t expect to cry like that.” The words came out like a whispered confession.

“No one does—the first time.”

The
first
time
. The words rang through her. He might do this again. She would let him. Feeling helplessly exposed, fully at his mercy, she watched him, biting her lip.

Steel raised inquisitive brows, standing in front of her with his thumbs hooked easily through his belt loops. “Had enough for the night? Or are you up for more?”

The challenge in the way he said it sent shivers of renewed heat into her. He had plans for her. Probably diabolical ones, judging by the barely contained restlessness in his body. His prominent erection strained against his jeans and she reached out, grasping him through the rough material. She looked up through her eyelashes and licked her lips.

“I want more.”

His face hardened with dark desire. Not the wicked grin she expected. Something ferocious and hungry.

“Good.” He nearly whispered it. Then he knelt in front of her, picked up one of the shoes and grabbed her ankle in a tight grip. He stared fiercely into her eyes. “Are you ready to obey me now?”

The cruel-looking shoe glittered in the light. “Yes, Steel.”

He pulled on her foot, her tender bottom scraped on the chair and she hissed at the pain. “Hands behind your neck. Sit up straight.”

She straightened, lacing her fingers under her hair, the black lace parting to expose her peaked nipples. He strapped the shoe onto her foot. It fit perfectly, but bowed the arch into an extreme curve. Pressing a kiss into the arch, he stroked her foot. Then flashed her a smile. “This is one of my things. You’ll do this for me. If you can’t—safe-word out.”

“I thought this was all your thing.”

He stroked a hand up her thigh, gaze falling to her naked sex. “Oh, I like it all, but some of this is just for you.”

“Oh.” She’d think about that later. When she could.

He set her foot down, placing it precisely so her leg angled out from her body. The heel’s height pushed her knee to an acute angle. He picked up the other shoe.

“You can tell me what you want too,” he observed, buckling the delicate straps.

“I don’t know if I can.”

He pressed a kiss onto that arch, too, and she gasped at the spark that ran up her leg.