Taming Emma (10 page)

* * *

They walked through the house to the back garden where Nate and Celia sat waiting, sipping on homemade iced tea.

“Beer?” Nate asked them.

Emma nodded.

Luke wondered if it was hard for Nate to offer them alcohol and keep off it himself. He knew there had been a time when he’d been addicted to the stuff. Luke could see he’d come a long way and imagined Celia had been integral to his healing. Now it was Emma’s turn. He looked over at her to find her studying him, her expression unreadable.

“Sure,” Luke said, pulling a chair out for Emma. He sat her down before taking a seat next to her. Nate and Celia didn’t make much effort to hide their curiosity, but Luke wasn’t in the mood for explanations. He had one thing on his mind: getting Emma alone. He wanted to talk, but he also wanted to do other things. He was pissed at her for disappearing like she had and had worried about something happening, especially with the bad weather in Aspen. Rather than waiting for flights to go from there, he’d driven down to Denver early in the morning, the drive taking almost twice as long as it should have because of the road conditions. No woman had ever gotten under his skin like Emma managed to. He’d take his day and night and figure out what the hell that all meant. But he had a feeling that this time, things would be different. He wouldn’t be able to walk away like he usually did.

“So when is the baby due?” Luke asked.

“Eight weeks,” Celia answered.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?”

“Boy,” Nate said, patting Celia’s belly. “Nate Jr.”

“That has not been decided, my friend,” Celia interjected.

Luke and Emma watched the exchange between them. They loved each other; anyone could see it.

Emma remained silent, drinking her beer while the conversation went on, everyone talking about the baby even though she knew Nate and Celia were dying to ask about her and Luke.

“How are your brothers doing?” Nate asked.

“Fine. Good, actually. Alec got married last year. Their first is due in a little over half a year. Jake’s still…Jake.”

Nate sort of smiled at that. Luke had introduced them when Jake had been in town and they’d hit it off well. The three had had some wild nights, but that was a long time ago.

Luke checked his watch, not wanting to be rude but wanting to leave, to get Emma alone.

“I’m sorry to make this a short visit, but Emma and I have some unfinished business to take care of. You ready to go, Emma?” Luke asked if only for the sake of formality.

She looked at him as he got to his feet. He held out his hand and she placed hers inside it. When he added a little pressure, she stood. That was good. He didn’t want to make a scene with Nate, but he wanted what he wanted and wasn’t accustomed to not getting his way.

She didn’t answer, but looked at him.

“Emma?” Nate asked, his expression that of big brother.

Luke tightened his grip just a little.

“It’s ok,” Emma said to Nate. “I’ll be fine.”

“How about if you two plan on dinner at my place next week? I have an incredible cook,” Luke suggested.

Celia smiled. “Dinner sounds lovely,” she said, looking from Luke to Emma. “Doesn’t it, Nate?”

Nate was still staring at Emma, obviously trying to read her expression, but she wasn’t giving anything away.

“I’ll call you with details in a few days.” Luke stepped around the table and gestured for Emma to walk ahead of him.

After an awkward goodbye, Emma settled in the passenger seat of Luke’s car and they drove away.

“Where are we going?”

“My house.”

“I thought you lived in Aspen.”

“Actually, Aspen is where I spend the least amount of time. I’m between Miami and London most of the year.”

“What do you do exactly?” she asked, turning to him.

“Just photography right now. I did well with some investments a few years back and I’m lucky enough that I can now do what I please. In fact,” he turned to her as they approached a red light, “I’ll be photographing you in a bit.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will,” he said, stepping on the gas pedal when the light turned green. They drove off with a screech.

* * *

Emma’s insides churned for the entirety of the fifteen minutes until they reached his building. They didn’t speak as she followed him to the elevator and rode it all the way up to the penthouse.

“Louisa,” he called out when they walked inside, setting his keys down on the table by the door.

“Coming,” came a voice from somewhere inside the apartment.

Emma watched Louisa round the corner, wiping her hands on a towel. She was plump and seemed cheerful and when her eyes settled on Emma, her face broke into a warm, wide smile.

“Well,” she said, looking her over before turning to Luke. “It’s been a long time since you’ve had a guest here, Luke.”

Luke ignored Louisa’s obvious curiosity. “Is everything ready?”

“I just set the dishwasher so all you need to do is boil rice when you’re ready to eat. I’ve made enough for two.” She winked to Emma and extended a hand. “Hello, dear,” she said, giving Luke a look. She was the only person Emma knew who dared give him a look like that. “Luke’s manners leave a little to be desired at times. I’m Louisa, the housekeeper.”

“Uh, Emma,” Emma said, taking the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Louisa. The curry smells great.”

Louisa’s smile widened. “This one may be a keeper,” she said to Luke. “It’s my own recipe,” she said when she turned back to Emma.

“Time to go, Louisa,” Luke answered. “I won’t need you back until Monday.”

“See what I mean about manners?” Louisa said to Emma as she gathered her things. “Have a nice night, dear. Don’t let him bully you too much. Believe it or not, there’s just a big softy underneath there.”

Emma laughed. “Thanks, Louisa. I’ll try not to.”

Luke only raised his eyebrows at her and let Louisa out. Once the door was closed, he turned his full attention to her, his eyes smoldering.

“Come,” he said, taking her hand and leading the way down the hallway.

She followed in silence as he opened a door and hit the light switches. She looked around. This was his studio. Her mouth fell open while she studied the pictures that hung in a row all along the walls. All black and white and similar in feel to the one she’d seen in his bedroom. They were, in a word, incredible.

She turned back to him to find him fiddling with his camera. When he pointed it to her and snapped, she quickly turned her face away and stepped back.

“I told you no pictures.”

“I told you you’re mine to do with as I please and what would please me now is you, naked and on your knees. Move.”

“Luke, I don’t…”

“Now,” he said, moving closer. “If you’d like me to help, I’d be happy to, but I can’t promise you’d feel the same.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Because you made me,” he answered and she knew his answer was, quite simply, the truth.

“I don’t want pictures. Please,” she said.

“They’ll be just for me. I don’t plan on using them publically.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to see you.”

She studied him, strangely enough, understanding his words. “Ok,” she said. “Are you going to punish me?”

“Most definitely,” he said.

Heat flushed her body and she was suddenly sweating. Without a word, she reached for the hem of her t-shirt.

“Oh, and one more thing,”

“Yes?”

“You’ll call me Master. Is that clear?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Clear?”

“Will Sir work?”

“No, it won’t. Try it. I want to hear the word on those pretty lips.”

She only stared, even as every fiber in her body wanted nothing more than to comply, to please him.

“Go on,” he said, coming closer.

She didn’t move back and he stood inches from her. Bringing his lips to hers, he took her mouth in a sensual kiss that left her panting when his lips left hers and trailed kisses along her cheek and up to her ear. “Master,” he whispered, licking once. “Go on.”

“Master,” she said, her body tingling with electricity at the word, the meaning behind it, her submission.

“Good girl.” His mouth touched her ear when he spoke, sending a shiver down her spine. “Now, naked and on your knees there,” he said, pointing to a spot.

She didn’t speak but did as he said, stripping off her clothes while he fiddled with some equipment. Once her clothes were neatly folded and out of the way, she knelt, knees wide and her hands set on her thighs. It felt right to be here like this, with him, again.

“God,” he said, snapping the first photo. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The camera snapped and she remained still, her gaze lowered, her mind already retreating into her private cave.

It was as if he read her thoughts. “Look at me,” he said.

She couldn’t at first, her head feeling too heavy to lift and words too thick to move farther than her throat.

“Emma,” he coaxed. “Look at me.”

She turned her face slowly up. His expression had changed; he looked full of energy, alive, hot enough to burn.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, setting the camera aside and squatting so he was at almost eye level with her.

“I don’t know,” she answered.

When she dropped her gaze, he turned her face back to his with a hand on her chin.

“Truth,” he said.

One tear traced a slow path down her face.

“There is nothing ugly or dirty in truth. Let me see you.”

She searched his eyes, wanting nothing more than to give him what he wanted. She only knew one way that that would be possible. “Punish me,” she said. “Hard.”

Now it was his turn to study her. She kept her gaze level with his. This was what she wanted, what she needed. For a moment, she wasn’t sure he would give it to her, but then, his expression changed. He decided and every hair on her body stood on end in response.

He straightened to his full height, his eyes a little harder now. She watched him strip off his shirt and set it aside. He moved to the large trunk against the wall, opened it, and returned a few moments later, riding crop in hand.

“Stand up.”

She heard her own heartbeat while she rose slowly to her feet. He was going to give her just what she asked for. His hand tightened around the crop while she watched. Her eyes grew wide when he tapped it against his leg and when she turned her gaze to his, it took all she had not to step back.

“You’re pale,” he said, touching her face.

“You like this,” she replied, forcing herself to remain still as he brushed her hair over her shoulders.

“Very much.” He brought his lips to hers and his free hand first caressed, then pinched one of her nipples.

She made no sound but her body trembled, her mouth opening to receive him.

He didn’t pull her nearer, but only kissed, and she knew he was taking pleasure. This was for him; only the punishment would be for her.

“Tell me,” he whispered against her mouth, still kissing her, still holding her to him. “How many strokes before you cry, Emma?”

She made a sound, her body wanting him, wanting what he was going to give her, even as it feared the pain.

“I’m going to give you exactly what you asked for,” he said, walking her toward the bed.

“Please,” she said when she felt the iron of the footboard against her back.

“Please what?” he asked, caressing her thigh with the crop.

“Please…Master,” she said.

“Oh, you’re a good girl, Emma. You’re my good girl. Now,” he pulled back. “Turn around,” he stepped back, giving her just enough space so she could turn.

She did, placing her hands on the cool metal.

“Down you go, rest your chest on the bed, arms overhead. Good girl, that’s right. Spread your legs wide for me.”

She didn’t look back as she settled her torso on the bed and extended her arms over her head. She’d asked for this. She spread her legs wide, imagining herself spread before him, ready for him. The weight of stiff leather made her shudder when he set the crop across her back and moved around the bed. She watched him unravel the long straps that were attached to each corner of the bed and wound them around her wrists, first the right, then the left. He then tugged and adjusted their length, lifting her just a little higher so that the footboard carried most of her weight and only the tips of her toes touched ground. She closed her legs a little, adjusting to the new position, but he came behind her and before she knew it, her ankles too were bound by similar straps, spreading her wide open. When he was finished, she watched him set a large mirror on the wall just in front of the bed. He positioned it so that she could see herself completely. Meeting her eyes in the mirror, he smiled, pleased.

When he stepped behind her, she felt, for one instant, panic. She tugged at her bonds but neither those at her wrists nor those at her ankles gave. They held her firm, her body now an offering as he lifted the leather from her back.

“How many until you cry?” he asked, his eyes on her widespread bottom.

She tugged again; his voice sounded too different. “Master!” she called, needing him back. Needing Luke.

His eyes in the mirror looked darker; aroused definitely, but also something else.

“I want to give you pain, Emma,” he whispered. Just a few simple words that set her on fire.

He waited, quiet, watching. She knew in that instant that he needed to do this as much as she needed him to do it. She wanted him to hurt her, to punish her, and it had nothing to do with running out on him the night before.

Time passed while they looked at one another, as if seeing each other for the first time.

“I want the pain,” she said, her voice so small. “Master.”

His lips twitched but there was no smile. He nodded once and broke eye contact before moving behind and just to the side of her. Without pause he lifted his arm and when leather hit flesh, her cry echoed through the room.

He didn’t speak a word, nor did he meet her eyes on the mirror. The bonds held her tight, allowing her the comfort of struggle with the knowledge of no release. It felt safe, oddly, even as the crop bit into her flesh, leaving welts on her otherwise pale skin. The hiss it made as it moved through the air was as terrifying and as satisfying as the blows were painful, each one sharper than the last. She didn’t count but gave herself over to her punishment while pain burrowed itself deep beneath her skin, becoming a part of her, a very necessary part.