Fearless (16 page)

“I can't,” I say desperately, pulling at the collar. “Take it off. Please!”

Beckett removes the collar with quick, deft fingers. He pulls me into his arms and rests his chin on my head. I press my face into the comforting firmness of his chest and inhale the clean musky scent of him.

“Shhh,” he says reassuringly. “Breathe.”

“I'm sorry,” I say, my voice muffled by his chest. “I just need some time to process this.”

“It's okay,” he says, rubbing my back. After a minute, I pull away and look up at him.

Unexpectedly, my eyes fill with tears. “I'm sorry,” I say again.

“Ah baby, don't cry,” he says tenderly. He gently wipes a tear that is making its way down my cheek with his thumb. “It's okay,” he says. “Whatever you want is okay.”

“I don't know what I want,” I say. “And it's terrifying.”

“I've got you, Angel,” he says. “You don't have to be afraid. Trust me.”

I can't help but smile through my tears. “There you go again,” I say. “Every time you say ‘trust me' it usually ends with me having an orgasm. But I do. Somehow, I do trust you completely. But I can't do the collar. That's a, what's the word? It's a hard limit.”

Beckett laughs. His arm curves around my shoulders, pulling me to his side as we walk out. “You just looked at nipple clamps, butt plugs, whips, and floggers, and a collar is your hard limit? You are a constant source of delight, Emmaline,” he says, shaking his head. “I can work with that.”

He begrudgingly drops me off at my house to get ready for the gala with the promise to pick me up at six thirty, and I'm grateful for the time alone. Being home does make it easier to get ready, and I do want to surprise Beckett, but I also need some time to think. I consider calling Lainey, but somehow my relationship with Beckett and the questions it raises seems too private to share even with my best friend.

I go for a quick run and then turn on the shower, staying in until the bathroom is steamy and the mirrors are fogged up. When we were roommates, Lainey used to say I took Prozac showers because nothing calms me down and helps me work through things like a long hot shower. Under the hot spray, I think about the way I feel when I'm with Beckett. Somehow, after two weeks I feel closer to him than I ever felt with Tim after twelve years of marriage. No one has ever worked so hard to find out what I wanted and needed and then made it their priority to give it to me.

Maybe Beckett is right—the love and trust and honesty required to give yourself to someone makes for a stronger relationship. I still blush when I think about the things we've done together, but I have never felt more alive and happy. I trace the intricate faint lines on my stomach and remember what they stand for. Fearless transformation. That's what started this all. But it can't be a way of life. I can't truly give myself to him. I think that's my problem with the collar; it somehow turns our bedroom game into reality—a reality that I'm afraid will result in heartbreak.

I've just finished drying my hair when my phone rings. I smile when I see it's Lainey. I should have known. We have been friends for so long that I swear we have some kind of weird sixth sense about each other. I usually know when something's wrong with her, and she knows when something's wrong with me.

“Hey,” I say, answering.

“I tried to call you earlier. Please tell me you need me to come and help you get ready. Avery threw up this morning and Evan decided to finger paint the bathroom with his poop.”

I laugh, feeling better already. “That bad, huh? Sorry. I was at the costume shop with Beckett. I didn't see you had called.”

“What does your dress look like? Are you going as a naughty tavern wench?” Lainey asks wickedly.

“Well, I kind of liked the tavern wench costume but Beckett nixed it. I ended up getting this gorgeous princess dress. Words can't do it justice. I'll send you a picture.”

“Okay,” Lainey concedes. “I guess I'll have to settle for that since by the time I actually got over there the party would be half over. So how's Mr. Hot Dominant?”

“Hot and dominant,” I sigh. “I don't know what to do, Lainey. You were right. I asked him about it Friday night and he pretty much said it was true, although I'm still not sure exactly what it means. He definitely likes to play kinky, but it doesn't seem to be a deal breaker. I just wish I didn't find it so hot,” I sigh.

“Why?” Lainey demands. “There's nothing wrong with it. You're both consenting adults and you're not doing anything illegal or hurtful to anyone. You deserve to have some fun!”

“I guess,” I say.

“So, do you see a future with this guy?”

“I don't know. I don't even want to think about it. I've only known him two weeks! There's definitely some connection between us, but I think it's probably just some crazy sexual chemistry. I honestly can't imagine being this obsessed with someone and having the intense sex that we have long term. It's probably impossible. I'm just going to enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Well, it seems like you've got your head on straight about it,” Lainey says, satisfied. “Although you never know. When I met Cam in France, he was supposed to be my summer romance abroad. I never dreamed I'd end up marrying him. Just try to have fun tonight, okay? I want a blow-by-blow re-enactment on Monday. Pun intended. By the way, do you and the hot doctor want to come over next Friday night? I think it's time for me to meet this guy.”

“Okay,” I say. “Sounds fun. I'll check with him and let you know. I'll call you Monday. But you're getting the PG-13 version.”

Lainey groans. “You're mean. Alright, talk to you later. Love you.”

Feeling better, as I always do after talking to Lainey, I unzip the garment bag that was waiting on my porch when I got home and pull out the dress. In my decidedly modern day home, it looks even more regal and exotic. I run my hand over the rich fabric. I hang the dress and then open the box that was with the garment bag. The jeweled corset lays on top, nestled in tissue paper. Lifting out the corset carefully, I notice a small silk bag with a note attached under the layers of tissue. Curious, I open it.

 

I forgot to ask if you had jewelry, so I thought I'd send some along with the tiara. You absolutely MUST send me a picture. I'll post it in the store. Have a fabulous time. I wish I could be a fly on the wall….

 

Gavin signed the note with a winking smiley face. I smile as I slip the contents of the silk bag out onto my dressing table. There's a delicate silver headband covered with rhinestones and intricate swirls with a large drop jewel at the front, simple drop earrings with amethyst stones, and a matching necklace that consists of a simple short silver chain with an amethyst pendant. They're absolutely beautiful. I owe Gavin big.

I carefully apply my makeup and then curl my hair so that it hangs in loose spiral waves. Taking a deep breath, I shrug out of my silk robe, pull on my sexiest white lace thong and slip into the sumptuous dress. It fits me like a silken glove. I look at the corset dubiously, realizing I hadn't considered how I was going to get it on by myself. I call my neighbor across the street, a sweet retired lady and her husband who water my plants for me when I go to California each summer. She's delighted that I called and comes over immediately, lacing me into the corset expertly as she oohs and aahs over it.

“You look like a medieval princess!” she says enthusiastically. “Makes me wish I were young again. You have fun tonight sweetheart. You deserve it.”

I thank her and give her a hug. After she leaves, I put on the earrings and necklace, and then carefully pin the delicate headband on the crown of my head just above my hairline so that the jewel rests on my forehead. Then I wait for Beckett to arrive.

I don't have to wait long. Promptly at six thirty, my doorbell rings and I open it to find a pirate standing on my doorstep.

I gape at the sight of him. “Oh my,” I say breathlessly.

He is the epitome of dangerous and sexy in a pair of black pants tucked into black leather boots, with a loose white shirt that is opened at the top to give a tantalizing glimpse of his dark, muscular chest. A red sash is tied around his waist with a thick, black leather belt fastened over it, and his dark hair is covered by a red bandana, emphasizing his chiseled cheekbones and dark, glittering eyes. A black eye patch and a gold hoop in one ear complete the look.

As I take in his deliciously sexy costume, his eyes devour me, boldly raking over me. “A regal princess, beautiful and untouchable,” he says softly. “It suits you. You look stunning.”

I smile at both his words and the undeniable fiery hunger in his gaze, stepping aside to let him in and closing the door behind him.

“I don't remember seeing this one,” he says, running his hand down my arm and catching my hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss into my palm. My pulse quickens.

“I wanted to surprise you,” I say huskily. “Gavin brought it out while you were on the phone. He said he had just finished it and thought it would be perfect.”

“He was right,” Beckett says softly. “I will have to be sure and thank him.”

“I'm ready,” I say, reluctantly pulling my hand from his. “Let me just get my bag.” I walk into the living room and he follows, stopping me.

“Not quite,” he says, cupping my cheek in his hand and kissing me, his tongue gently parting my lips. “Remember I have something else for you to wear tonight.”

I try to remember everything we looked at in the store earlier, wondering which one he has brought for me to wear tonight. Is it the nipple jewelry? My breasts tighten at the thought of my nipples encircled by the nylon hoops, the weight of the dangles arousing me with every motion. Oh crap, what if it's one of the butt plugs? He wouldn't! There's no way I could spend an entire evening with something invading and stretching me so intimately.

“What is it?” I ask, fear and excitement competing with each other.

He turns me so my back is to him. “Bend over and lift your dress,” he says throatily.

My heart is racing as I gingerly lean over the back of the couch, lifting the long skirts of my dress up to my thighs. I gasp as his fingers bypass the thin fabric of my panties and part me, effortlessly slipping into my center which is already slick with my arousal. After several languid thrusts he pulls his finger out, leaving me breathless with desire and anticipation. Then he's pressing something smooth, warm and round at my opening.

“They're pleasure balls,” he says softly, pushing one and then the other into me.

I gasp at the erotic feeling of fullness. “I don't remember looking at these,” I manage.

“Looks like we both had our own little secrets today, doesn't it?” He gently massages my pubic bone, causing the balls to roll around heavily inside of me and I feel my arousal grow. “I want you to wear these all night,” he continues in a low voice, “so you stay ready for me and so you think of me all night, even when we're apart.”

His forbidden words torment me, only adding to the delicious sensation of the slightly weighted balls that fill me. He gently repositions the scrap of fabric that is my underwear and then lowers my skirts.

“Ready?” he asks, giving me a rakish smile. He makes a sexy pirate.

“As ready as I'll ever be,” I say.

Beckett tucks my hand into the crook of his arm as we walk down the sidewalk, a small smile playing at his lips. I stop in my tracks after a few steps.

He raises one eyebrow sardonically. “Is there a problem?”

“Ummm,” I stammer as I feel the ever so slight shift of the balls inside me.

Once they were in place, I could barely feel them. However as soon as I started walking around, I have to admit the sensation they create is oddly pleasant. They aren't blatantly arousing, but I can see how you'll know they're there, particularly after wearing them for the entire night. But with the way he's already gloating, I'm certainly not going to admit that to him.

“No, I'm fine,” I say with a slight upward tilt of my chin.

“Excellent,” he says with a knowing smile.

I'm saved from any further discussion as I spy the long black limousine parked at my curb, a smartly dressed driver already holding the door open for us.

“A limousine?” I try not to squeal with delight.

“A practical precaution,” he says seriously. “I don't want to count my drinks tonight, but neither do I intend to sacrifice my evening with you afterwards at my place. A hotel has its advantages, but I want us to be completely alone for what I have planned for you tonight.”

I gulp.

“Plus,” he adds with a small smile, “I knew you'd get a kick out of it.”

He watches me as I try but fail to act blasé about the limousine. He is clearly enjoying my excitement over the bar (which is stocked with enough alcohol for a bachelor party), the plasma screen television, and the neon lighting.