Sanctuary (7 page)

“You said you thought I could handle it,” she said.

“Yes. I still want you to think it over before you decide.”

“I don't have to.”

“Do it anyway.”

He smiled at her, but she could see he was serious and wouldn't accept her answer right now.

“Okay. I'll think about it.”

He nodded, smiled once more, paused to sip his coffee. “Good. Talk to me now. Tell me about your life.”

“My life? It's not very exciting.”

“You're the most exciting woman I've come across in a long time.”

The way he looked at her when he said it, the way his gaze was locked on hers, almost made her believe him.

He reached over and brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips. “Tell me.”

A quiet order, but one she wasn't about to ignore.

“Well…I'm a graphic designer. I design websites, logos, whatever the client wants. I've done some ad layouts, promotional items for different companies.”

“Do you enjoy your work?”

“I'm my own boss, in control of my pace. The business is doing well, so I don't have to stress about money. And I get to do something I love. I get to create. The kind of work I do is always expanding, so there's always something new, a new challenge. I love it.”

“That's a rare thing, to love what you do.”

“And do you do something aside from spanking pretty girls in the Ring?” she teased.

He grinned crookedly, a small quirk at one corner of his mouth. “I do that for fun. Although the nights I work there it's a paid job, with all of the usual expectations and responsibilities. Even more so there. But I make my living doing a corporate gig. Well, it's my own corporate gig.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's my company. A consulting firm. I review things like expansions and mergers for corporations, assess the financial viability of their intended move so they can make informed choices.”

“Is it a big company?”

He shrugged. “Depends on how you look at it. I have branches here and down in Silicon Valley, in Los Angeles, Seattle, Portland, and I recently opened a new office in Chicago.”

“Wow. I had no idea you meant anything on that scale. It must keep you busy.”

Busy and…rich? She was surprised to find the idea a little intimidating. But it also made him seem all the more powerful to her.

“I have great staff—that's the key,” he told her while she was still trying to absorb that Shaye Vincent was a wealthy, powerful businessman. “You can't run this sort of business and have any sort of life otherwise. And after the first few years of working sixteen-hour days, seven days a week, I decided having a life was every bit as important as the success. It helps that I love it, that I like my management team, that I'm one hundred percent certain I can count on them. I started doing it because I liked working with numbers.” He grinned once more, that sexy tilting at the corners of his gorgeous mouth. “Numbers turn me on.”

“You
are
kinky.”

He laughed. “You don't even know the half of it, my girl. But you will.”

How could he make her blood run hot, her sex clench, with a simple comment? Except there was nothing simple in the promise he implied. She had to pull herself together in this public place before she did something stupid. Like slide to her knees at his feet and beg him to touch her, to make her come again.

God.

She took a sip of her coffee, letting the heat of it clear her throat. “Tell me something else, Shaye. Tell me about your family, about growing up. Tell me about your parents.”

He shook his head, was silent for a moment. Then he said quietly, “My mother's gone, died when I was six.”

“God, I'm sorry. And your father?”

“I don't talk to him much. He's kind of an asshole.” He paused, then muttered, “Which makes me wonder how I can still be so much like him.” He went quiet again, and a range of emotions flashed quickly across his features before he got them under control. His face relaxed. “I'd rather hear about you. What was growing up like for you?”

“It sucked, to tell you the truth. My dad left us a long time ago, when I was almost ten. And Mom just…never recovered. She's always been a mess, really.” She paused. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

She shook her head. “Is this part of the…getting inside my head as a Dominant?”

“Partly.”

“Will you tell me what the other part is?”

“Maybe at some point. Go on.”

He was watching her, his eyes glittering, focused on her as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. It was the same when he was playing her, during sex. And perhaps it was that laser focus that made her continue.

“We moved a lot. Always in California, but we must have lived in twelve different cities by the time I got out of high school. I was the adult in the relationship—had to make sure the bills got paid, that there was food in the house. There wasn't always money in the checking account for rent, which is why we moved so much, I guess. Mom found another husband to take care of her when I was nineteen, so I got away, put myself through college.”

“Shit, Devin.”

She shook her head. “No, don't feel sorry for me. It made me who I am, made me strong.”

He said quietly, “That explains a lot about why you're so controlled. About why yielding to me is so necessary for you.”

She hated it a little that he could read her so easily, but she loved it about him at the same time. Frightening and comforting simultaneously. Yes, she did need to yield to him, whether she liked the idea or not. She could feel her body melting even now, simply thinking about that need. She dropped her gaze to the table.

“No, Devin, look at me. It's okay.”

He raised her chin with his hand, that slow burn running over her skin at his touch. His gaze was dark, penetrating, as though he could see right inside her.

“I want to go, Shaye,” she whispered, knowing he understood exactly what she meant.

He slid his hand down, took her hand in his, and that current of hot electricity ran through her veins. He felt it too. She could tell by the way his eyes gleamed, by the way he held her gaze. Finally, he smiled, that dazzling flash of strong white teeth. Her pulse was absolutely racing.

“Then we'll go. We'll go to Sanctuary. There's an event in a couple of weeks, which will give you some time to mentally prepare yourself. But I think you'll love it. Be ready, Devin, for the night of your life.”

Chapter Six

Shaye paced the dark wood floors of his living room, back and forth in front of the wide picture window overlooking the San Francisco Bay. He'd opened the heavy plantation shutters, letting the view in, hoping to distract himself. But the gorgeous almost-evening sky, the choppy green and gray water, did nothing to soothe him.

He couldn't get her out of his mind.

He'd left her place on Sunday after another entire day and night of pure, exquisite torture. Somehow he'd managed not to fuck her. He'd known that if he did he'd lose it altogether. Lose control. Lose himself.

He'd spanked the hell out of her. Spanked her until she'd cried, which he had to admit he loved. Then he'd kissed her tears away, holding her in his lap against his raging hard-on, but concentrating on calming her down. Stroking her silky skin, her long hair. Losing himself in the textures of her.

He'd gone down on her over and over, made her come again and again. Had even let her give him head once more—it was too damn good not to allow it to happen.

And in between all the spanking and licking, kissing and sucking, they'd talked. Like he'd never talked to anyone in his life, maybe. About literature and music, movies and art. Stupid things like the cartoons they both remembered from childhood, their first experiences at Disneyland. Their earliest thoughts about kink.

They'd ordered meals in, never leaving the bed other than to take long showers, where he'd spank her and make her come all over again.

Not even forty-eight hours later and he
had
to talk to her.

He'd felt that same compulsion at work, trying desperately to focus on running his business, client meetings, running statistics when all he could think about was her.

This had never happened to him. He didn't know what the hell to make of it.

He settled on the gray suede sofa, stared at his cell phone on the big coffee table made from reclaimed barn wood.

Don't do it. Gotta get a handle on this.

He shook his head, picked up his phone. Let out a long sigh when he heard her voice on the line.

“Hello?”

“Devin, it's me. Shaye.”

“Shaye. Oh…”

He let out a nervous laugh. Jesus, when the hell was he ever nervous? “I just wanted to check in, see how you're doing.”

“I'm fine. Great.”

“What have you been doing? Have you been working?”

“A little today, yes.”

“Tell me what you're working on.”

“Really?” she asked. “You want to know what I'm working on?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Nothing very exciting today. It's a logo for a small local bakery. Bread and muffins.”

He leaned back, his body loosening. “Muffins are exciting.”

She laughed. He liked the sound of it, imagined the brilliance of her smile.

“You really are a perv,” she told him, her tone low, flirtatious.

“Would you prefer I weren't?”

“Absolutely not.” She paused for a beat. “So…was there something you wanted to talk about?”

Was there? He jammed a hand into his hair. “I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to talk to you.” It was his turn to pause. “Devin, this will all work better the more I know about you.”

“And the more I know about you?”

“Yes. Sure. What do you want to know?”

Dangerous, to leave it open like that. There were certain things he didn't want to talk about. Like his father…his mother…

“What do you do for fun?” she asked him. “Besides reading and museums and movies. I mean, everyone does those things. What else do you do?”

“You want to know about my favorite thing? I have a motorcycle, a big BMW—a cruising bike. I like to head up the coast to Mendocino, stay at one of the inns up there, take the whole weekend to ride. Or sometimes I'll head south down to Monterey and Carmel. I love those long rides. And I like to stay close to the ocean.”

“That sounds amazing. I love the ocean. That's why I found an apartment as close to the water as I could afford.”

“Me too, except that I have a house.”

“Really? Where?”

“I'm in the Marina. Not far from you—I'm right across from Chrissy Field.”

“Jesus, Shaye, those houses cost a fortune.”

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound so impressed.” She laughed once more. “But I suppose I am. I'd love to see it sometime. I mean…was it okay to say that?”

“Sure. I did agree we need to know more about each other. People's homes say a lot about them.”

Did he want her to know that much about him? To see deeper?

Apparently so.

“Yes,” she agreed. “People's homes, their bookshelves, what they drive.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, glanced at a pile of magazines on the coffee table. He wondered what she'd make of his reading material:
Architectural Digest
,
Smithsonian
,
Rolling Stone
. “And what does my car say about me? My motorcycle?”

“Oh, that's easy. The big BMWs—they're powerful vehicles. Totally obvious.”

He laughed. “There goes my air of mystery.”

Her tone lowered an octave. “I wouldn't say that.”

“So you find me mysterious?”

Her tone was still flirtatious, but there was something more serious beneath it. “I'm pretty sure you want me to.”

“Yes. And no. There has to be a certain amount of transparency between us. You know plenty of intimate details about me. You know about my kink, that I like to do wicked things to beautiful girls like you.”

He had to pause and smile to himself, imagining what he'd do if he could get his hands on her right now. Strip her bare, run his palms over that silken skin before spanking her until that gorgeous pink blush came up on her perfect ass…

“And the part where you
want
to remain a mystery?” she asked, a little tease in her voice still.

“It's part of my job as a Dominant to keep you guessing. Part of the mind-fuck. And it works beautifully on you.”

“It does,” she agreed, more easily than he thought she would. “To be honest, I really didn't expect that. I thought there would be more…fight in me.”

“Does that bother you?”

There was a long pause. “Yes. Because I guess I…I still equate submitting with weakness, to some extent. Even though we've talked about this.”

“The power is all in the gift of submission, Devin. Without that gift, we have no dynamic. Not one worth having, anyway. There are bottoms who try to argue their way out of everything, but in my mind if you can't give yourself over to the process at some point—and pretty quickly—then it's just two people butting heads. That's not a power exchange. It's a power struggle.”

“I like the way you think about it,” she said. “It makes sense to me. But more than that, I think if you didn't work within that philosophy this thing would never work between us.”

“Is it working, little Devin?” he asked, his tone low.

Why did he want—
need
—to know so badly?

There was another long pause. Excruciating.

“Yes. It's definitely working.”

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, pushed a hand through his hair. “Good. That's good.”

He paused, got up and started pacing again, the scene outside a foggy blur at the edge of his vision.

“Shaye? Are you still there?”

“What? Yeah, of course. Devin…I want to see you.”

“Okay.”

So easy. No argument, just giving in to whatever he asked. Oh, she was tempting. Maybe it was time for him to give in.

Maybe.

Have to see the girl.

“I'm sending a cab for you.”

“Now?” She laughed a little nervously.

“Yes. Now.”

“I…okay. I'll be ready. May I have twenty minutes?”

“Only because you ask so prettily.” He grinned, inordinately pleased with himself for reasons he didn't really want to look at.

Devin, there in his house. In his bed. Under his hands.

“Black dress, high heels, no underwear.”

He heard her small intake of breath. “I… Is there anything else?”

“Why? Isn't that enough for you?”

“Oh. Yes…”

“I'll see you soon then.”

He hung up before he said something completely foolish. Like how badly he needed to see her, touch her. Things were getting dangerous.

Don't lose your head over this girl.

This beautiful, smart, funny, creative girl.

Stop it.

If only he fucking could.

When the cab pulled up in front of the immaculate white and gray stucco home, Devin had to draw in a long breath. Shaye's house was truly one of the masterpieces of the Marina District, every bit as expensive a piece of real estate as she had imagined. A bank of tall windows graced the upper façade, shuttered against the night. How had he coaxed bougainvillea to grow so gorgeously in the cool salt air? But she loved the effect, the way the vines draped the edges of the windows, climbed over the heavy wooden door, coral petals scattered on the slate walkway.

When she tried to pay the cab driver she found that her fare had already been taken care of. And was surprised to find she rather liked it—being treated like a bit of a princess. Shocked, really.

She stepped into the chill evening air and made her way carefully across the flagstones in her high black leather pumps and knocked at the door.

He opened it right away, almost as if he'd been waiting for her, which he probably had.

He smiled—just smiled at her—and her legs went weak.

“Evening, Devin.” He reached out, stroked one fingertip over her jawline, across her bottom lip, making her lower her lashes, her cheeks heating a bit.

What was wrong with her? But she couldn't help the insistent buzz of immediate sexual tension that was turning her limbs to liquid. Sex and the automatic submissive response she wanted to fight against and couldn't.

Maybe she really didn't want to fight it. She knew she didn't want to question it right now, not with him standing in the doorway, all lush good looks and oozing that natural air of command she couldn't resist.

He took her hand and drew her inside.

“I appreciate you coming on such short notice,” he said.

“Well, you asked me to come. I thought…”

“What did you think?” he asked as he took her coat.

“That I…
should
.”

He hung her coat carefully in the foyer closet, then turned to face her. He looked beautiful and as wicked as ever in the low lighting coming from the living room.

He took her hand once more and pulled her in close enough that she could feel the hard planes of his body pressed against her breasts. She wanted to groan aloud but bit it back.

He said quietly, so that she could feel his breath against her cheek, “We have no contract, Devin. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We've negotiated some of your limits, but you never have to be here if you don't want to.”

“Oh, I want to be here. I was just trying to tell you that I feel when you ask something of me, it becomes…exactly what I want.”

He surged against her, his arms going around her and holding her close.

“Ah, you are perfect, my girl.”

She smiled, a shiver running through her. At the small term of endearment. At knowing she'd pleased him.

“I'm going to strip you down now,” he whispered to her. “I'm going to spank you with a small leather strap until your gorgeous ass is pink, until you can't take any more. And then I'm going to fuck you.”

“Oh yes…” she breathed, not entirely certain she'd actually said the words aloud until she heard his small, pleased chuckle.

In a flash he'd turned her around and had her naked, his own shirtless body pressing up behind her.

“Shaye, I—”

“Shh, now. Just follow my lead.”

Her head was spinning, sinking down and down, into that floating place where there was nothing but pleasure, despite the pain he might give her. She wanted it.
Needed
it.

She let him walk her into the living room, where he bent her over the end of the sofa.

“Rest your elbows on the arm of the couch to steady yourself,” he instructed. “Yes, good. You have the most delectable ass I've ever seen.”

He smacked her once, hard, making her jump, making her laugh.

“Oh, do you think that's funny?”

“I…no…”

He smacked her again and another giggle came out of her.

“Shaye, I… It's just nerves or something.”

“Yes, I know. I'm not worried. I have my ways. Head down now, little Devin, and stay here quietly until I get back. Quiet and imagining what I might do to you in a few minutes.”

“Oh…”

“Shh, quiet,” he said, a harder edge to his voice this time that made her limbs go warm, her mind buzzing.

She heard him walk away, the sweep of his bare feet. He'd left her shoes on, and she shifted from one foot to the other, heard the small squeak they made on the wood floors and tried to still herself. There was a momentary struggle to keep still, to do as he said. But she reminded herself that he had asked this of her—
demanded
it—and that was all it took for her body to calm of its own accord in a way that was almost meditative.

She heard him step into the room and stop behind her, his hand resting at the small of her back, steadying her. Making her feel owned somehow.

“You look so naked bent over like this,” he murmured. “I can see the lovely seam of your pussy. Makes me want to touch you there. Like this.”

His fingertips stroked the sensitive flesh between her thighs and she went wet instantly.