A WILDer Kind of Love (9 page)

She looked toward the bar, where Max was waiting with a reassuring nod. It reinforced the security she already felt with Sexy—but also the apprehension, delicious and decadent, that inched its way into more of the sensitive skin between her thighs.

Hell.

She was really stepping down the rabbit hole this time, wasn’t she?

With a Dom she couldn’t stop staring at.

Who hadn’t stopped staring at her, either.

Who turned her bloodstream to mush because of it.

“You’re good,” she finally blurted. “I—I mean,
it’s
good. I like it…that you’re interested.”

“And intrigued,” he prompted.

“Same difference,” she volleyed. “Right?”

“Not necessarily.”

She swallowed. How had he pressed at least six inches closer without her noticing? “Your semantics are certainly curious, Sir.”

His kiss, soft yet sure, was the last response she expected—yet the perfect pin in her careful composure. Pin? Try a full arrow, piercing to her very core…a wound that felt so damn good. She moaned then inhaled, ordering her brain to locate its
This End is Up
sign. This was the craziest opener to a date she’d ever had—if this could even be qualified as a “date.”

Damn good point. What the hell
was
this? Maybe they needed to talk about that. Set some parameters. Lay down ground rules for next steps, and—

Thoughts that flew from her mind the moment Sexy kissed her again. Longer. Deeper. Pushing her mouth open this time, coaxing her tongue against his, all but dictating her to kiss him in return—like she’d resist a single moment of this heat and fire and pleasure. He turned her into a firework. And like the song said, she was ready to let her colors burst.

Don’t stop. This is so good. You feel so good…

But he did, all too soon, dragging away despite how she grabbed his shoulders to stay upright. His muscles felt even better than they looked, solid boulders beneath her fingers.
Wow
.

“Odette?” he murmured.

“Hmmm?” she managed.

“You still with me?”

She blinked, struggling through a dreamy fog. “If I said no, would you kiss me again?”

His laugh was a gentle rumble. “No.” Then compounded her dismay by stepping out of her reach, steadying her with his hands instead of his body. “I want more than just your mouth, little rose.”

She gave him a half-drunk smile. “Like what?”

She barely comprehended his hand lifting to her face. But oh, how she felt it when his fingers grazed along her cheek, against her temple, into her hair. “Like what’s in here.”

She scowled. “
Not
the answer I was going for.”

His fingers tightened against her scalp. “But this is where it begins.” For a moment, his gaze dipped down the length of her body. “As much as I long to discover all of this…it doesn’t happen until I learn more of this.” Back to focusing on her face, he stared for a long time, as if committing her features to memory. Tess swayed toward him, a flower straining for the sun, needing more exposure.
More
…

“Then learn me.”

He sucked in a deep breath, almost as if her words had become his air. As he released it, he snarled. “Dammit.”

“What?” Her gaze snapped wide. “What’s wrong? Did I mess up?”

He chuckled. Oh, yes.
Chuckled.
What the hell? Being with him felt like riding a rubber band. Dark mask but gleaming eyes. Hot kisses then chaste clinches. Snarls then chuckles.

“That wasn’t messing up, red. Not one damn bit.” He breathed deeply again. “Fuck. You’re so new.
So
new. And so open, and willing, and…”

“And what?” Her whisper didn’t surprise her. She was amazed it had volume at all, considering how deeply his words tore at her. He sounded like he was in pain.

Yep. Rubber band. Wasn’t he Mr. Interested and Intrigued just a minute ago? Hadn’t he kissed her like it? Those kisses had been real, hadn’t they?

“And I’m not,” he answered her. No change in his tight torment. “And I don’t know how to do this in your kind of way. And
my
kind of way is…”

He trailed into a growl then a silence. Both were so thick and dark, Tess wondered if she’d sprung a crimson cloak on her shoulders to match the fathomless forest in her imagination, looming around the path she had to take to “Grandma’s House.” Only this time, she
wanted
the big bad wolf to devour her—in any way he could imagine. But how to prove it to him?

The answer blared at her like a shaft of light in that forest.

And was as easy as tugging the ribbon that secured her own mask.

As soon as the ties came loose, she let the covering fall all the way to the floor. Then tilted her bare face up at Sir Sexy, letting him see the surrender in her gaze.

“Your kind of way is what I came here to find,” she confessed. “So show it to me…please?”

‡

S
he swallowed. Then
again. Both struck Dan as the world’s hugest jokes.
He
was the one suddenly out of moisture in his throat, air in his lungs, and sense in his head—though he turned and filled her a cup from one of the water coolers positioned around the club before ordering, “Drink.”

She flung up a hand. “Nice try, but you’re not deflecting me again.”

“
Drink
, dammit.” He shoved the cup into her hands. “This isn’t negotiable. My plans require that you be fully hydrated.”

Her eyes popped wide. She lifted the cup and started to gulp.

Thank fuck she comprehended the implication of his statement. But of course she did. She was Tess Lesange, one of the most astute and perceptive women he knew—a fact he’d almost been able to forget with the mask layering her identity. With the lacy black cover in place, she’d become another person to him, a saucy little rose he’d planned on bringing to full bloom, spreading her wide before going at her pussy with a vibe wand until she dissolved beneath him. She’d be properly initiated into BDSM but still easy to separate from his lunch buddy and confidante.

Impossible now.

Completely, damnably, impossible.

Everything changed from the moment she’d resorted to that beautiful display of trust—an exposure that meant a thousand times more than taking off everything below her neck. Ironically, she’d made him damn sure that was going to be next.

And very doubtful he’d only be going at her with a wand now.

Fuck.

It’s your own fault, ass face
. He’d practically threatened Max with castration if anyone else went near her then all but claimed her aloud to everyone in the building. What the hell had come over him—other than feeling like a fire-breathing dragon at his first sight of her? Had his “sabbatical” from dungeon life turned him into an A-class jerk at his first whiff of submissive pheromones?

Fuck
.

That was exactly the case, wasn’t it?

Luckily, there was an easy solution here. He’d simply have to follow through—but keep any semblance of emotion out of the picture.
Cake walk
. He’d done it before and could do it again, especially now. Beneath that I-am-subbie-hear-me-roar ensemble, Tess had a body worth zeroing in on, as her tailored office outfits had shown him on numerous occasions. So he’d become her Dominant dream for a night, satisfying what they both needed, restoring the proper balance of nature and leaving nobody the worse for wear. She’d go home high on endorphins, sighing from memories of her first night beneath a Dom’s sensual rule. He’d be on a cloud pretty close to hers, mind cleared of cobwebs, cock cleared of pressure. Win-win for all.

Tess’s low groan broke into his speculation. “Okay, eyeballs are floating,” she decreed, setting the cup down. “Happy now, Sir Griffin?” When he gave her a double-take, she curled a serene smile. “Don’t glare. My first choice was Hawkface.”

“
Hawkface
?”

“What?” An adorable shrug lifted her shoulders. “You’ve never been told you can eye a subbie like she’s your exclusive prey?”

Not in a very long time, ruby. But you make it sound so damn good again.

Not that the saucy thing needed to know that. Or that her little jibes and jests already stirred heat through his blood and fire through his mind, considering all the interesting methods he could use to tame her “cute” little tongue…

Or that she’d helped Max Brickham perform one hell of a kinky miracle tonight.

The bastard had known damn well what he was doing, hadn’t he?
Colton, you were made for this. You get this.
With that kind of affirmation, was it surprising he’d approached Tess? Now with her standing beside him, so trusting and gorgeous and excited, anticipation surged him as it hadn’t in over a year—transforming Brick’s words to the truth.

What was the other thing the guy had said? Something about getting back on the bike? More truth—which Dan acknowledged with a provocative growl.

His eruption flared Tess’s eyes. It prompted his savoring smile in return, giving her about two seconds to comprehend his intent before he acted. A gasp burst from her, high and shaky, as he whirled her around, slamming her back against his body. Another groan rumbled through him in return.
Holy fuck
. Her ass fitted perfectly against his shaft. His cock swelled, pushing at her body, already knowing what it craved.

This was amazing.
She
was amazing. So much more than he’d anticipated. A hundred times softer. A thousand times more fragrant. A million times more supple…a billion times more submissive.

“Good girl,” he grated into her ear. “So damn good.”

Yeah, yeah; he heard the blares of logic from his brain, blustering that the reaction was just long-overdue Dom space, but he didn’t listen. Right now, the world was his little rose, his perfect ruby—and the submission he’d been a fucking idiot to turn aside. A mistake he wasn’t about to make again. Not tonight.

“Thank you, Sir.” Her breathy response made him smile. How quickly she’d dropped the griffin and hawk jokes…and embraced her submissiveness. He’d sure as hell pegged it wrong when doubting she’d be happy with all this. There were more layers in Tess Lesange than he ever thought possible, even as her friend. Now, he was so eager to learn those answers…and more.

“Come,” he said then, grasping her hand in his. Without stopping, he guided her down the corridor toward the private rooms, walking past portals that had been textured to blend with the stone walls. Every door had an Egyptian-themed emblem carved into it, enforcing the sensation of walking through an ancient desert crypt. He guided her passed an ankh, a cobra, and an ibis on the left, then a scythe and a pair of jackals on the right. Sounds filtered from behind a few of them. The crack of a whip. The moan of a climax. A merciless bellow.
Kneel, boy! Now!

Tess’s fingers trembled a little.

He tightened his hold—as his cock jerked tighter.

He stopped in front of the next door on the right. It bore three stars that cradled a half-moon, poetic deceptions for what the room undoubtedly possessed. Without ceremony, he turned to face Tess, dropping her hand in order to brush knuckles across her cheek.

She shivered again.

He turned his hand over, flattened it to her nape. “Scared?”

Her lips parted. Pressed back together. Fell open again. “Yes.”

“You know that only makes me hotter.”

“Then that makes two of us.”

Christ
.

His fingers clamped harder, digging into the bottom of her scalp. When she sighed then gasped, arching and showing him the tops of her nipples, he groaned to keep from kissing her again. Couldn’t happen, not out here. When he took her mouth once more, it wasn’t something he wanted everyone in the hall watching.

Getting the key out of his pocket was torture now that his erection was part of the picture. Once the heavy piece was out, he reached around her and shoved it into the dark hole beneath the wrought iron handle. But he didn’t turn it. Instead, he lifted
her
hand to it, curling her fingers around the protruding iron.

They still shook beneath his touch.

He got even harder.

“Open it.”

Her breath, which had been coming in little spurts, stopped. She couldn’t have given him a better reaction. It relayed that she got it—that she understood it wasn’t just her obedience he demanded, but her permission. That by twisting that key, she was acknowledging her consent to step with him further down into the pyramid—into a dungeon that definitely hadn’t been designed for casual lifestyle dabblers.

The room they entered was obscenely faithful to that promise.

An ethereal soundtrack played from hidden speakers, a perfect match to the sepulcher feel. In the center of the room, an altar of sorts was highlighted, ensuring one could see the many chains that hung from rings at its edges. Several chains hung from the ceiling over the round platform, as well. To the side, a multi-tiered rack held a dozen melted candles, next to a padded bench rigged with an adjustable spreader. While Tess stopped, transfixed by that, Dan circled his gaze across other equipment—a coffin with creative bondage points, a pair of skeletal gargoyles holding a custom fucking swing, a “mausoleum” that housed at least a hundred implements to make a subbie beg for her punishment—