Storms and Dreams (Becoming Jane Book 3) (6 page)

BOOK: Storms and Dreams (Becoming Jane Book 3)
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“Are you sure?” I wiggled harder.

“Later,” he said, swatting my backside.

“Are you kinky?” I blurted out, cringing as soon as the words hit the cold air.
Smooth segue, genius.

“What?” he asked, eyebrows raised in shock.

“It’s just, you do that a lot, delay gratification.”

“Delay…what? No, it’s quite cold out here.”

“Nope, that’s not it.” I narrowed my eyes, studying him. “You do it a lot.”

“What, because I insisted we wait till you graduated?” he said. Lifting me off his lap, he stood me on the sand and rose in front of me, towering, his gaze locked on mine. “I explained that, just now.”

“Nope.” I shook my head and took a few steps ahead of him, then turned around playfully. “That doesn’t explain all of it. Not entirely. Look, I’ve based this theory on several factors, not that one alone. I think I’m right. I think you’re kinky.”

“Oh really.” He smirked, shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked towards me. “Please, enlighten me.”

4


W
ell
, you’re very commanding, sexually.” I cleared my throat, wondering what I’d gotten myself into. I had my suspicions, sure, but I certainly didn’t have anything approaching an official analysis. I was going to have to wing it.

“Commanding?” He stepped forward again, jaw tensing, eyebrow cocked.

FUCK, he’s sexy.
“Yeah, like right now, actually. You’ve got this British sex panther thing going on. You’re stalking me, like prey.”

“Mmmm. Go on.”

“When we are, um, you know…”

“Fucking.”

“Yeah, that.”
What the fuck is wrong with you?
I thought, marveling at the change in my demeanor when he had his sights on me. I was all nerves and jelly knees. But still, nerves weren’t going to stop my mouth, not now. I was too excited to see where this little detour might lead us. So I pressed on. “When we’re fucking. You handle my body like it’s…like it’s a tool,” I said, searching for the right analogy. “Or a machine…no, a car. Like a car. Your Jaguar!”

“I fuck you like I’m driving my Jaguar?”

“No, you fuck me like a champion racer drives…” I trailed off, stumped. This analogy had gotten away from me.

“His favorite car,” Thomas said, his gaze traveling over the length of my body. “A car built just for him, every line, every curve, every detail exceeding his highest standards.” He strode towards me and I gulped, walking backwards in front of him, pacing myself, careful to keep several feet between us. The look in his eyes said the cold be damned, if he caught me now we’d be fucking on the beach in five seconds flat. While that was a panty dampening thought, so was the idea of teasing him for just a little longer.

“Exceeding?” I asked.

“Utterly eclipsing every other…forgive me for continuing with the vehicle analogy but—”

“No, no. Go on.”

“With an engine that is unsurpassed,” he said with a grin. “Sure it runs hot, and very,” his eyes leveled on mine, “very tight. But once you get her juiced, she handles like a dream.”

I gulped again. “Good analogy.”

“A little heavy handed,” he smirked, “but one tries. What else?”

“What?” I said, dazed, my thoughts lost in a wilderness of sexcapades featuring Thomas dressed as the Stig from
Top Gear
and me as some sort of hot pink anthropomorphic sports car.

“What other qualities have I demonstrated that have fed your theory of my sexual deviance?”

“Uh…” My hands were roaming with a mind of their own—one on my stomach while the other traced the outline of my lips.

“Kinky, darling, you said I’m kinky. I’m dying for you to prove it.”

The hand at my stomach rose to circle my wrist, physically pulling my own hand from my mouth before I went down on my own fingers in some sort of pathetic attempt at oral satisfaction. That’s when it hit me.

“You restrain me. Every chance you get, you take my wrists and you pin them.” My tone was triumphant, almost defensive. I didn’t mean it to be. I was just excited that I’d managed to jump start my brain into working again.

Thomas stopped walking. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.

“No! No, God no, I didn’t mean that how it came out at all. I don’t mind.” I took a step towards him. “I mean, I really don’t mind. I like it, actually. It’s a turn on.”

“Alright.”

“Fuck. Did I just fuck this up?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “This conversation is intriguing, and I can’t say that I disagree with your theories, but I’m slightly, uncomfortable.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“I need to know,” he said, pacing ahead of me, “if you’re alright with everything we’ve done thus far. I need to know that going forward, if I do anything that’s not alright with you, you’ll tell me, immediately.”

“Wow, this got heavy fast,” I said, darting ahead to walk in front of him again.

“Jane, I’m serious. You just told me that I restrain you. I didn’t even realize I was doing that. I need these assurances from you.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I fucked this all up with my little game.” We stood there, in the wet sand, the waves creeping up under our feet and slinking away again. Staring at each other. I was so pissed at myself I could’ve spit. What the fuck was I doing?

“It’s not all fucked up, we’ve just fallen into a bit of a ditch, we need to scramble out. Together.”

“Okay. I am more than comfortable with everything we’ve done so far. We could go much, much further and I’ll still be super-duper comfortable.” I laughed, and glanced up to meet his gaze. He was staring at me with such warmth and concern it made my throat tight. I swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’ll tell you right away if anything isn’t okay.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Do we need a safe word or anything? Would that make you feel better?” I asked, my tone teasing.

“Hardly.” He frowned, my attempt at levity apparently failed. “All you need ever say to me, is ‘No’ or ‘Stop’. It’s that simple.”

“Yeah, it’s not, though,” I said gently. “Not when you’re playing like that. That’s kind of why people invented safe words. Because when you’re into stuff like that, sometimes miscommunications happen.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “In that case, ‘I’m serious’ or ‘I mean it’ will suffice to get my attention should there be a miscommunication.”

“Sounds fine to me,” I said. “That’s a lot easier to remember than ‘popsicle’ for sure.” I laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I said, blushing.

“So, you know all about safe words?” He smiled at me now. “
You’re
kinky. Maybe your theories about me are just projection.”

“Ha!” I laughed. “No, at most it’s just a ‘takes one to know one’ situation.”

“That’s an admission.”

“Okay.” I smirked. “I’ll cop to being…adventurous. I’ve seen the seedier side of sex. Honestly you can’t be in my profession and not be exposed to a myriad of kinks and predilections.”

“Such as?”

“Oh you know, bondage and discipline—that sort of thing,” I said, keeping my tone casual. The truth was I was totally full of it, trying to make myself sound far more experienced than I was. All I knew about BDSM came from bad erotica and several hair-raising conversations I’d had with a dancer named Bella Donna who had worked at Clouds for about five months over a year ago. I was faking my way through this whole conversation and I wasn’t sure exactly what my motive was. But I did know it was exciting the hell out of me.

“Whips and chains.
That
sort of thing?”

“Maybe.”

He shook his head. “I don’t get the props. If I want to restrain you, I’ll do so with my hands.” He tilted his head to the side, thinking. “Or maybe a well-placed length of rope. That would leave one’s hands free, to explore.”

I gaped at him, a dull ache spreading between my thighs.

“And I can definitely see the appeal of a good spanking. I love how you look when your cheeks blush; I think I’d find your backside just as lovely under the same conditions.”

“Oh my God!”

“But anything I do with you, or to you, I’d prefer it to evolve naturally. I can’t see the need for scripts and set pieces.”

“So no red-room of pain at your house, then?”

“What?” he said, clearly puzzled.

“Nothing, just a book I read a while ago.”

“And it had a red-room of pain in it?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s just a power trip,” he said, shaking his head. He laughed, the sound was cynical.

“Some people think that’s what all sex is,” I said, echoing something Bella had said to me once. “Everywhere. Everyone. Whether they want to admit it or not, everybody is just power tripping everybody else.”

“Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I said, thinking of what I do for a living. “Yeah, sometimes it feels that way.”

“Does it feel that way with me?”

“No,” I said, sighing. “Shit, I fucked this up again. Me and my stupid mouth.”

“Stop it. You haven’t fucked up anything. What’s happening is we’re having a serious, albeit unexpected conversation. But we’re having it because it needs to be had.”

“It does?” I said. I wasn’t so sure that it did. I didn’t even know why I’d brought the topic up, really, other than I just wanted to stop talking about miscarriages and exes.

“Obviously. Because this wouldn’t be coming up, if it wasn’t on your mind.”

“Or maybe I’m just stupid,” I said, toeing some sand with my shoe. What was wrong with me? I was arguing points I didn’t really even believe, just for the hell of it. Just to what? Get a rise out of him?
How fucked up is that?

“If you call yourself stupid one more time I’ll turn you over my knee and spank you.”

“See!” I said, pointing at him with a grin. “Power trip!”

“No, that’s not this,” he said, smiling softly. He gestured between us. “That’s not what we have. We share the power and we toss it back and forth. We have since day one. I was just too stupid to see that at first.”

“Don’t call yourself stupid.” I grinned at him. “Or I’ll have to give
you
a spanking.”

“Careful now,” he said, glancing at me sidelong, his expression fierce.

“Power trip.” I mouthed the words at him slowly, and grinned.

“See,” he laughed and ran a hand through his hair, “that’s us. That’s what we do. You tease me, and push my buttons, and I respond, putty in your hands.”

“As if!” I said. “That makes it sound like I get what I want. And I most definitely don’t get what I want.”

“No?” he said, arching an eyebrow. Shoving his hands back into his pockets, he walked towards me again and I picked up my backwards amble down the beach.

“No, you tease me right back, tiger. You get me all worked up and then you torture me, make me wait for it.”

“Yes, you mentioned that already. Delayed gratification. What else?”

“You get off on watching me dance naked for other men. That’s pretty kinky.”

“Oh God. I did confess that, didn’t I? I wonder what damaged part of my psyche is responsible for that anomaly?”

“Not damaged. Jeez, just, ya know, interesting.”

“Oh I don’t know. It strikes me that your sex therapist mother would have a field day with your observation about restraint.” He held his arm aloft and pushed back the cuff of his coat sleeve, exposing his tattooed wrist.

“Right, good point. Like you were powerless so now you get off on being powerful, etcetera.”

“Something like that. I can’t say it’s wrong, either. The thought of holding you down while I fuck you senseless is incredibly appealing to me.”

“Yeah, you and me both, buddy,” I said, smiling weakly, hot wet heat burning low in my belly. “So is this fixed now? Is the awkward fixed?”

“Getting there,” he said.

“You’re right,” I said. “When I think about it. We’ve been tossing the power back and forth from the start. I mean, I chased you pretty hard didn’t I?”

“You did.” He nodded. “But I wouldn’t have been caught if I didn’t want to be.”

“Oh okay.” I scoffed. “Sure. I owned you from the word go.”

“A second ago you were arguing the opposite. Which is it?”

“No, you were arguing the opposite, not me.”

“No, I was arguing…wait. I don’t even know anymore.” He ran a hand through his hair, stopped walking, and crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you think of me when we first met? What was your analysis then? I want to know.”

I stopped walking and mimicked his pose. “Truth?”

“Always.”

“My very first impression… I thought you were this buttoned up, kind of shy, stuffy hot guy. I thought you’d fall down at my feet the minute I wanted you to.”

“Hmmm.”

“Yeah, obviously it didn’t happen that way. And to be honest, I’ve had a few bad moments when I’ve thought about how aggressively I was pursuing you. I mean, you told me to stop.”

“I did,” he said, nodding.

“And I didn’t stop,” I said, a wave of discomfort settling over me when I recalled my behavior.

“No. You pushed, that’s true. But when I pushed back, you stopped. Or you tried. But you didn’t get the chance, because after I asked you to stop, I—”

“Showed up at my club.”

“Yes.” He laughed. “And that, is when everything changed. After that night—”

“It was game on,” I said, laughing.

“Most definitely.” He smiled.

I grinned at him. My heart felt a mile wide, as open and turbulent as the sea beyond the shoreline. He enthralled me; his words, his eyes, the lazy stretch of his fingers as they drummed at his biceps, those dimples at the corners of his smile. I blinked and took a deep breath, steadying myself, lust and longing flowing together into some jumble of emotions that was unfamiliar territory to me.

“What did you think of
me
?” I asked. “First impression. Truth.”

“Ah.” He smiled and glanced at the water, his eyes lingering. “What did I tell myself I thought of you? Or what did I really think?”

That’s an interesting answer,
I thought. “Both.”

He sighed and squinted at the ocean, the sea air tousling his hair as he spoke. “I told myself you were silly. One of those students who daydreams about affairs with a teacher. That thinks the idea is glamorous and exciting. I told myself that you were simple and unsophisticated and that nothing good would come of any of this.”

“Ouch.”

“But my honest impression was that you were exquisite. In every way. Your words charmed just as surely as your form. And every time we spoke, I grew more and more annoyed.”

“Why?” I whispered.

“Because you are enchanting,” he said. Walking to me, he reached out, his fingers brushing a windswept strand of hair from my face. “It’s as if the gods made you just for me, to tempt me. And I was determined to resist, because I was sure it would all end in tragedy. Which if there are gods involved, is generally how things end.” He laughed.

“No gods here,” I said, glancing around dramatically. “Far as I can see.”

“It was when you remarked on Kipling that I knew,” he said, musing. “I knew at that moment that you were nothing like what I’d assumed. And I knew I was not going to succeed in resisting you. I knew I didn’t want to.”

“Damn,” I said quietly. “If I knew name dropping Kipling was such a great pickup line, I would’ve started using it years ago.”

BOOK: Storms and Dreams (Becoming Jane Book 3)
13.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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