Take a Chance Read online

  Fuck. Twice in the span of a minute or two, she’d arched her back and highlighted the upthrust of her breasts against the fabric of her shirt. Between the motion and her teasing tone, he was hard as a rock. Taking her now wouldn’t be wise, but cuffing her to his bed was sounding better by the second.

  “I’m sorry you’re missing work. I really didn’t want Simon to take me home. He doesn’t approve of me living alone, and this accident, well, I was afraid he’d use it as a chance to move me back home.”

  “He does understand we’ve moved beyond the dark ages, doesn’t he?”

  Another one of those giggles he loved popped out. “Yes, but from what Mom’s told me, he was protective of me even as a child, hovering over my crib and worrying when I cried.”

  Might make things harder for him, but he and Simon had come to an agreement of sorts where Dena was concerned this morning, and he could only hope the trust would stay in place after Simon found out about the club. Not likely, but a man could hope. And in the end, it would be Dena’s decision, not the brother’s.

  He watched her eyelids flicker and flutter down to rest against her skin. She needed rest after her ordeal, and he’d wake her for lunch in an hour or so. In the meantime, he had a few things to get done for the Lindsay job. His foreman was handling today’s wiring, but the control pads hadn’t shown yet and he wanted to know why.

  A day away from the jobsite would be productive and still give him time to watch over his girl. His sub. Yeah, well, he needed to get to that part of their relationship before they went much further. He dug through the linen closet in the hall and found the afghan his mother gave him a few years ago. It was still in the box and smelled faintly of Christmas, but it was soft and warm and all he had to cover her on the couch.

  He looked around his house, so different from hers with all her paintings and bric-a-brac. His place was lean, a long sectional sofa, a recliner, and a big-ass flat-screen on the wall. White walls, white carpet, black and white curtains covering the windows. He hadn’t realized how plain the place was. Just a place to crash, with little warmth.

  But then, the women he brought home rarely looked at the front room. They were more interested in the playroom and they never stayed the night.

  * * * *

  Reindeer leapt over her bed one small creature at a time, all wearing a red collar with a shiny bell on it. The scent of peppermint floated in the air around her while she counted them, first in pairs and then one by one. The numbers didn’t make sense and she kept starting over.

  And it was warm when there should be snow on the ground at the North Pole. But someone was making hot chocolate with peppermint sticks. Her mouth watered and she wanted to get up, but her arms weren’t working right.

  Her eyes popped open and she looked down her body. A red and white afghan covered her from sole to shoulders and her fingers were entangled in the weave. It all came back, the wreck, the hospital, and Steve’s house. Her heart squeezed when she lifted the light blanket. He’d thought to cover her while she slept. Pushing her feet to the floor, she sat upright and waited for the dizziness to return.

  Nothing.

  Turning slowly from side to side, she didn’t have any wooziness, but her shoulders ached a little. She got to her feet and stood. Still nothing. Well, a few aches and pains, but nothing debilitating.

  With no sign of her caretaker, she wandered into

  the kitchen and found a glass for water. The medicine taste finally washed away and she went in search of Steve.

  A doorway to the left of the sofa opened into a hall. The first door opened to an oversized room that housed the weirdest gym equipment she’d ever seen. She went inside to investigate and couldn’t figure out what the metal frame in the middle of the room was supposed to hold. There were several metal clamps attached to it, and even more leather pieces positioned at different levels. Strange.

  Turning back to the door, she got a good long look at a wall of curiosities.

  Steve must be a collector of medieval torture devices. She counted at least ten different items displayed on hooks within easy reach. On the floor below the items was a large saddle stand, but the saddle on it didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen.

  “See anything you’d like to play with?”

  As his question sank in, she had her first ‘oh, shit’ moment. This room was just like the one Sara had described from a book she’d read. That book everyone had talked about for months.

  A flash of memory from last night, the scarves, the blindfold, became a flood of sensations that converged and swamped her.

  “Oh, shit. What the hell is this place?”

  Chapter 12

  Not exactly how he’d planned to introduce her to his lifestyle, but what the fuck. They’d have to have this conversation sooner or later, and he’d just as well get it over with. Convincing her was a matter of time and patience, and he had both in spades.

  “What are you thinking, Dena?”

  “I…I…” Her head turned toward the pegboard wall where some of his toys were displayed and her body followed as her gaze swept the room. “I don’t know what to think. Who are you?”

  Shock, yes, but no real disgust, so they could make this work. “I’m the same man who made love to you last night. The same man you’ve been flirting with the last few days.”

  “But this is…” She waved her hand in the direction of the St. Andrew’s cross. “…what?”

  “Just another way to have sex.”

  “Do you get off on hurting women?”

  The pause she’d held before the word women had him itching to hold her. She was scared and he couldn’t blame her, but she wasn’t ready for his hands on her. Not yet. “Some women, and some men, like pain. I’m not one of them and I assume you aren’t, either.”

  “Damn right, I’m not.” She brushed past him and left the room, her body language screaming confusion. And he didn’t blame her one iota.

  Back in the living room, she was cocooned in the blanket and staring across the room to the blank television screen. “We should watch a movie or something,” she said, trying to skirt the issue, but it wasn’t going to go away.

  Positioning his ass on the other end of the sofa, he faced her and tried like hell to keep his tone moderate. The difference between explanation and dominance was a wide plane of existence and he didn’t want her to feel intimidated. That would come later. Much later.

  “Dena, we’re not going to avoid this conversation. We can’t.”

  She nodded to the screen and handed him the remote, but he set it on the table behind him and shook his head. “You asked me who I was. It’s time for me to tell you. If you want to walk away from me, that’s your option.”

  “What happens to me if I don’t want that option?” One perfectly manicured hand scrubbed at her face. “I thought something good was happening to me, to us. But now I can’t think what that was.”

  “You’re right. It is something good, and I don’t want to let go of it. But you need to understand that dominance is a large part of who I am. And I have a strong feeling that submission is something you crave but don’t understand.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Ah, defensive more than scared. But the fear wasn’t focused on him. This was more about who she was than what he wanted to do with her.

  He fought to keep his expression neutral. Smiling at her wouldn’t help and if anything, might make her mad. Instead, he let his voice drop and soften. “When I give you directions, you respond like a natural submissive. Have you been uncomfortable with me at any time?”

  “No.” Her eyes widened. “You’ve been dominating me?”

  “Yes.” He let a simple smile loose. “From that first dinner when you tried to attack me, I knew you needed a little control and some discipline.” She tried to object but he held out an open hand. “At first, I was trying to save your dignity, thinking your attempt at seduction had some link to the attack I interrup
ted.”

  “So I’m just a project for you? Some kind of experiment?”

  “No, not hardly, sweetheart.”

  Her stare was a confused mixture of doubt, anger, and longing. He’d left too much unsaid. “It’s been a long time since I had a steady relationship. You made me think it was time to try again.”

  “What would that look like in your world?” she asked. And unfortunately, he didn’t have a ready answer. “That’s something we’d need to work on together.”

  Her eyelids lowered, the lashes like lace on her skin, and as he watched, her face went from pale ivory to dark pink.

  “Can I interest you in a tour of my playroom?” Ah, that dark pink flushed to the deeper red of embarrassment. He lifted her hand and tugged. “No need for shyness. I’ve seen every part of you and I appreciate every inch.”

  Pulling her to her feet as he stood, he tossed the afghan onto the sofa and led her back down the hall. She came to an abrupt halt in the doorway and he stepped inside.

  “When we’re in here, I’m in control of every aspect of your body and mind. I will care for you in every way.”

  “And hurt me?”

  “Only when I must and only with love.”

  Damn. That wasn’t what he was planning to say but it was too fucking close to what he was feeling to take it back.

  “That sounds like something all three of my brothers and my father might say. I don’t think this submission thing is for me. I’ve been bossed around all my life. These things—” She waved her hand around. “—aren’t going to change my mind.”

  “I’m not your brother or your father. I’m your lover and your Dom. Everything I do or say is meant to increase your pleasure.”

  The crossed arms said more about her thoughts than words ever could. “By spanking me?”

  He leaned against the doorjamb and mirrored her stance. “The line between pleasure and pain is thinner than you can imagine. With an open mind and an hour, I can show you what you’ve been missing. Do you still trust me?”

  Those dark chocolate eyes bored into his, her arms still crossed at her chest while she made up her mind. He kept his body as still as possible to avoid spooking her before she decided. When her shoulders dropped, he recognized his first victory. Not that he’d keep count. There’d be too many to tally in the next few months and he’d cherish every one.

  “Thank you for your trust.” He paused, weighing his words before diving into the basics. “When you’re with me, I want you to have a specific word to use as a way to stop whatever’s happening to you. A safe word. Something that wouldn’t come up in conversation.”

  “Can’t I just say stop?”

  He shook his head and enjoyed her reluctant smile. “No. It should be something unique to you. A word that can’t have any implications except to halt all action.”

  He gave her a few minutes to process, then nudged with “Come on, doll. Give me a word.”

  “Purple.”

  “Okay. I can work with that.” He lifted his ass from the doorjamb and moved into the room. “What would you like to look at first?”

  Panic flashed in her eyes for a second and she turned away, her body facing the storage wall in a way that kept him from seeing her expression. He thought about putting his body in her sightline, but he already knew enough about her to wait. She needed time to process what she saw before asking about how the items were used.

  Besides, most of what he had on the wall was easy to figure out.

  Restraints.

  Paddles.

  Whips.

  “For someone who claims no interest in pain, you have a lot of weapons up there.”

  “Semantics, doll. What might look painful to you now could become your favorite toy next week. Or as soon as tomorrow.”

  No comment, but then, he didn’t expect a reply.

  “What exactly is that?” she said, pointing to one of his favorite floggers. Soft deerskin strands with pebbled beads at the end of each length. An image appeared in his head, Dena spread on the bed, or better yet, across the spanking bench, her hair pulled to the side so it fell toward the floor, while he used the flogger on her back. He’d make her come over and over before he actually took her.

  “Steve?”

  Damn. He’d gotten lost in a fantasy while she waited for an answer. “Let me show you.” He took the thing off the hook and handed it to her, strands first. “Feel the softness?”

  She nodded, hesitant but curious.

  “It’s called a flogger. The user can regulate the force he uses to get different responses from his submissive. A light tickle or a sharp bite of pain. The little buttons at the end of each strand give the process a little more sting.”

  “And you want to use this on me. Don’t deny it. I can see it in your face. It turns you on, me holding this thing.” Her lips curled up in a seductive grin and she raised her brows. “Or would you rather I use it on you?”

  “Oh, hell no.” He lifted it from her hand and let the strands dangle to the floor. “And yes, I’d very much like to use it on you right now. Tomorrow. Whenever I can get you naked and ready.”

  Her lower lip quivered, as did her peaking breasts, and her eyelids fell to half cover her eyes. Lips parted, her breath stuttered in her chest.

  She wanted him. She wanted what he could give her.

  “Strip, Dena. I’m going to give you your first lesson in BDSM.”

  Her hand went to her throat, then slid down her chest to the hem of her top. When she dropped it to the floor, he chided. “You may want to wear that later. Fold it properly and set it on the table.”

  Her gaze flicked to his face but he refused to smile. The dominance he’d held back flowed freely through his body, the instinct taking hold. “Do as you’re told.”

  “Okay.”

  He caught her chin in his fingers and brought her eyes to his. “The proper response to your Dom is ‘Yes, Master.’ Say it.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  The words, and her submission, rang in his head. She was his. He’d make it happen, and he’d never let her go.

  “Good girl. Now lose the rest of those clothes.”

  When every scrap she wore was neatly folded and stacked on the table, he led her to the spanking bench. “Put your feet next to the corners, doll, with your belly in the saddle.”

  He leaned to each side and wrapped both ankles with a wide Velcro clasp connected to the bench to keep her in place. Unable to wait, he smoothed the soft flesh of her back with both palms, his dick hard enough to drive nails into mahogany. This level of need was new for him. Unexpected, but welcome.

  Dragging his fingertips from her ass to her shoulder, he moved to her head and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Let your arms fall, Dena.” Two quick movements had her hands fastened comfortably to the forward legs of the bench.

  She gasped and he massaged her scalp. “Trust me, Dena, and if you need to, use your safe word.” He separated the thick locks of her hair into two sections and moved them over her shoulders, out of the way of the strands from the flogger. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he whispered, “Let the sensations wash through you and feel everything I give you.”

  Picking the flogger up from the table, he laid it across her back and then inched it across her skin, letting her feel every soft fiber and the cool discs knotted into each strand’s end. When the last tentacle fell past her body, he took a step back and raised his arm to the side, the flogger ready to float and sting.

  The first slap against her back was light, giving her the intimate feel of the flogger as it shimmied over her skin. She was quiet and still, analyzing the sensations with an obvious surprise from the tilt of her head.

  He repeated the light touch two, three times, before stroking a tad harder. A breath shot out of her when the strength of the lash increased, but she didn’t complain.

  He added a little more to the next stroke, increasing the pace and heat until her torso rose to meet each swipe. A moan slipped past
her lips and his body tightened even as sweat beaded on his brow.

  Dena was enjoying the act of submission.

  He slipped two fingers between her thighs and a gush of moisture coated them. Unable to wait, he dropped the flogger and opened his fly. One swift thrust and he buried his cock to the hilt. Her ragged moan urged him on, and he set a steady rhythm while rubbing the lash marks on her back. Again and again, she tightened around him and climaxed, and after he pulsed and released inside her, he collapsed over the saddle, her body limp beneath him.

  Chapter 13

  “Private Delights?”

  He squeezed her fingers in his palm. “Exactly. You should’ve seen the place when we bought it. Took us four months to get it converted.”

  Dena smiled up at him, her face still glowing from their afternoon in the playroom. “I was here last year with my family. Dad was a member.”

  “I doubt he’ll join this year. It’s a privately run BDSM club. Members only.”

  “And you’re a member.”

  “No, doll,” he said, pulling into a parking spot. “I’m one of the owners.”

  Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Surely, you don’t expect me to get naked in public.”

  “No, not tonight. But eventually.” When he opened her door to help her out, she was still shaking her head. “I’ll be patient with you, Dena, but you’ll do as I ask when the time is right.”

  The softening of her shoulders gave him hope. She was everything he wanted in a woman and training her to his taste in lifestyle was proving to be a delicious occupation. He wouldn’t let go easily.

  They walked through the entrance and he was greeted by Joanne, the staff submissive, and one of her assistants.

  “Welcome, Master Steve. Please scan your card.”

  “Hell, I built the system. Guess I’ll have to follow the rules like everyone else.” He laughed and pulled out his wallet for the membership card. The barcode recorded his information and kept a continuing record of members and traffic through the club. A screen next to the card reader let him log his guest into the system and he made a mental note to have a card made for Dena.