“Lie down,” he whispered against her lips. Then he was tugging her over his lap into the same position Amber had been in a while ago. He placed a pillow below her head, and she turned away from him, lying her cheek on the pillow and watching the office. She was splayed across his lap like a child. “Sore?” he asked.
“A little,” she said softly. She focused on the room around her as she felt the tips of his fingers run up and down along the backs of her thighs. Her hair tickled her back as she squirmed a bit under his touch.
“Relax,” he said.
She took a deep breath and tried, but as his hand traveled over her backside, she inhaled sharply and tensed. It didn’t really hurt that bad, but she expected another spank with every swipe of his hand.
He bent his body over hers until she could see his face. She turned her head to meet his gaze. “This will help you feel better, sweetheart. I’m not going to spank you again. Not now, anyway,” he said with a wink.
She groaned. God, there would be another time? She didn’t know if she could take it.
“Come on now. Relax.”
She rolled her shoulders and took another deep breath. Her lungs and heart seemed to have slowed to a more normal rhythm. She closed her eyes, and then his hand was sliding over the cheeks of her butt again, this time followed by a soothing coolness. He must be putting that salve on her. After a second, a comfortable balm replaced the sting. She sighed. He trailed his fingers along her backside, as well as along the backs of her thighs and then her back. Then his other hand was flowing through the tendrils of her hair in a continuous rhythm, and a small, contented sound escaped her lips.
All the tension drained from her body under his comforting touch. As his finger traced up and down her back, she knew he was following the line of her tattoo.
“It’s a cherry blossom,” she said by way of explanation. She could feel his gaze following the path of his finger. He caressed a circle around one of the blossoms. She remembered where each curve, swirl, and bloom was. Hours lying facedown in the tattoo chair as the needles buzzed into the sensitive flesh of her back meant she remembered and could almost feel each small piece of the thin, delicate branches.
“It’s beautiful,” he said, and she could hear the truth in his voice. Sometimes she wished she’d gotten the tattoo on part of her body that she could see without a mirror, but she’d needed it somewhere she could keep hidden when necessary, and it was too big to put anywhere else, really. It started on her left hip and wound around her back, growing up and out to her right shoulder. It was worth all the pain, and the money she’d had to part with. Her first three royalty checks had gone to pay for it.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Does it mean something special to you?” he asked quietly, his fingers still running the length of the ink and through her hair.
She’d never talked about it to anyone, not even Hank, the artist who’d done such a beautiful job of bringing her dreams to life. But she’d just let Chase hold her down and spank her. Let him use her body, share something incredible and scary with her, and she figured telling him this one small thing wouldn’t make that much of a difference.
“I needed another tattoo.”
He chuckled. “Okay… Any particular reason?”
“To piss off my dad.”
He laughed again, the vibration moving her body as she lay on his lap. “Daddy issues… Figures,” he muttered. “So why this tattoo in particular? I mean, you could’ve gotten anything you wanted.”
His bare thighs were warm against her belly and the undersides of her breasts as they hung over his legs. She had her legs tucked under her, with her knees snuggled up tight against his outer thigh. The warm cocoon surrounding her muffled the world beyond their private bubble. She knew she should have run screaming from the room before this little tryst had started, but now that she was here, wrapped in this warped sense of warmth and comfort, she wasn’t so eager to rejoin the real world. It was kind of like being inside a book. Eventually, though, real life would intrude.
“Partly because of my mom’s Chinese heritage. Cherry blossoms are a classic symbol of beauty, empathy, death. A lot of it was because I thought they were beautiful. I asked Hank to draw up a design, told him most of what I wanted, and I fell in love with his artwork.”
“I can see why,” he whispered, shifting. He pressed soft lips to one of the blooms over her shoulder blade that had been particularly painful. She shivered, goose bumps crawling to life along her skin from the place where his lips touched. “So, what brought you here tonight?”
CHASE FELT LIZ stiffen. He lifted his head to admire the beautiful portrait she made lying on his lap. With her elegant feet tucked beneath her body and her hair running in tendrils over her bare shoulders, tickling the edges of his thighs, she gave him a glimpse of the sweeter, more submissive side of her. It was a side he could quickly grow to like as much as her spitfire, slap-him-in-the-face, grab-his-hair-and-kiss-him-senseless side.
He tried to soothe her again by slipping his fingers through her hair, but her body was wound tight once more. Son of bitch. He felt fully sated for the first time in forever, and he couldn’t get her to relax to save his life. This was like tiptoeing through a minefield. He couldn’t believe she’d come in to watch him play with Amber. Or that she’d stuck around after, letting him tug her into his office and then goading him into punishing her. Followed by what had to be the best sex of his life.
He’d be in heaven now, if only he could get her to open up to him. At least he’d gotten her to admit she liked his mini punishment scene. And she hadn’t run away screaming. Not yet, at least. But her posture said it wouldn’t be long before she made a break for it.
She shrugged one dainty shoulder, and the branches of her tattoo rippled to life. He’d spent half the time spanking her admiring her pinkened ass cheeks and the other half watching the sinuous way the branches swayed with every move she made.
He stopped caressing her and put his arms beneath her body, lifting and turning her toward him so she was cradled, ass first, into his lap. She avoided his gaze, and he resisted the urge to swear. He raised her chin. In a childishly defiant way, she closed her eyes to hide her gaze from his. He forced his fingers to remain gentle.
With any other sub, he would simply command her obedience. But Liz was different. She was still figuring out what she wanted, what she liked, where her limits were, and while his urges demanded he push her to those edges now, he fought his nature and instead took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.
“Sweetheart, talk to me. You just let me spank you, for Christ’s sake, and now you won’t even look at me. What’s the matter?”
Finally she blinked open those brown eyes rimmed in green and glared at him. Uh-oh. Clearly bringing up the spanking was not the way to go. Damn it. Everywhere he turned, an explosion waited for him. The fire blazing in her eyes dared him to keep pushing the issue. Which was exactly why he backed off.
After a second of staring at him, she grinned. The smile was devious and a bit sadistic. “I had this sudden urge to do some research.”
He watched her lips as they formed each word, and he groaned, his blood heating. “Research, huh?” He released her face and trailed his fingers down her flanks, tickling each rib as he went. She squirmed and squealed in his lap, bringing his blood from steaming to boiling over in a flash.
Liz swatted at his hands and scrambled away, her breasts swaying invitingly at head level as she gained her feet and darted away from him. He reached for her, but she jumped back. “Yes. Research. Which has now been completed. There’s only one thing left to do.”
Oh, he could think of about a million things he had yet to do to her, with her. And he wanted to do them all right now before sunup, which would be in a few short hours. Definitely not enough time to really get his fill of her. But there was always tomorrow. And the next day. Even the day after that. An amazing physical connection like the one they shared needed to be explored, logic be damned. Maybe she wasn’t his forever sub, but she sure as hell could be his for now.
“Really? And what’s that?” he asked.
“Write, of course.” She smirked and backed farther away from him. With her gaze locked on his, she reached down and snatched up her panties and put them on. And here was her retreat. He leaned back on the couch, spreading his arms along the back of it and watching her reverse striptease. She was covering her body with lacy slips of fabric, and it was almost as erotic as her taking the clothes off.
She lifted her bra and hooked it around her waist, then spun it and pulled it up to cup her beautiful breasts, hiding them from his view. A real shame, that. But he couldn’t help admiring the way the flesh plumped out the tops of the cups, begging for a long lick. His mouth watered at the thought.
“So you’ll be leaving, then?” he asked, a sinking in his gut. He’d just started to get things back in order around here, and now he could focus on his little problem with Liz. Except he wasn’t quite sure this little problem wouldn’t become a very large one if he wasn’t careful.
“Yes,” she said curtly. “As soon as I slink into the alley and find my dress.” She shook her head and turned away from him, heading for the door.
“Hang on, damn it.” He knew she was going to leave, but he didn’t think it would be so soon. Or make him panic. He never panicked about personal matters. The money his club was or wasn’t making made him lose sleep almost nightly, but he didn’t usually care enough about his life outside of that to worry much.
He leaped to his feet and grabbed her wrist. “I said hang on,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I’m still not really sure what the hell just happened, how to deal with it, what to think about it, or if I even like you enough to have let you do that to me. I let you spank me, hold me down, and have your naughty way with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to tolerate this Neanderthal nonsense. Let go and get the fuck out of my way.”
Her voice reverberated through him, and he groaned. Why did
everything
she did have to turn him on? He grinned, getting lost in her eyes, which spit fire at him.
“And what exactly are you smiling at?” she demanded, jerking her hand away.
“You said
fuck
again.”
“Oh, I did not.”
He nodded. “You most definitely did. You swear a lot more than you think.”
“Only around you, apparently. What can I say? You bring out the drunken sailor in me. Now get the
heck
out of my way.”
“Can’t you wait a damned minute?”
Rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, she turned to him. “For what?”
He grabbed his pants from the floor and started tugging them up his legs. Shoving his semihard cock into the tight leather proved a lesson in frustration, but he beamed at the way Liz’s gaze didn’t stray from his groin. He took an extra few seconds to adjust himself so he could watch her watching him. Finally he was zipped and slid his feet into his boots.
“Are you really going to put that dress back on?” he asked.
“Well, it’s not like I can drive home wearing this.” She swept her arm up and down in front of her.
“That’s what trench coats were made for, sweetheart.” He opened his closet and pulled out the smallest coat he had. No doubt it would still be too large for her petite Asian frame, but it was better than a dress that he wasn’t sure would still be waiting in the alley downstairs. He held it out to her, and she snatched it from his grasp as if it were a life jacket. She yanked it on. “Jeez, you really in that much of a rush to cover up?” That was a shame.
She rolled her eyes and tied the belt of the coat, closing the two sides of it almost completely over each other. The coat hung past her knees. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, get it back to you,” she mumbled, then turned.
“Still trying to leave without me, are you?” he chided. With his longer strides, he beat her to the door by a second and held tight to the handle before she could push her way out of his office, and possibly out of his life. He wasn’t ready to accept that yet. “You really do need an escort,” he whispered against her ear before dropping his arm possessively around her waist and pulling her to his side. He pushed open his door, and she walked, if not contentedly, then at least quietly beside him. After a second of awkward walking, she put her arm around his waist and snuggled her body closer to his. He shortened his stride to match hers and stayed glued to her all the way to the staircase.
He let her go in front of him down the stairs, but he retained possession of her hand. He’d publicly claimed her the moment she’d walked through the door, but now he felt even more possessive of her, his touch on her body more about true possession than a warning to his patrons that she was off-limits.
As soon as she pushed her way through the door at the bottom of the stairs, he draped his arm around her shoulder, and she fell into step beside him. “Don’t go thinking this means anything,” she grumbled.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, unable to keep the grin off his face.
She glared at him but didn’t comment further. He reluctantly led her to the door and outside to the front of the club. Kane and Aaron were still at their stations, and while they again shared a glance at seeing Chase with Liz, they remained silent.
“Where’s your car?” he asked.
“Over here.” Liz guided him down the sidewalk.
“Listen, I—
Shit
,” Chase said. Liz’s tires were flat. Not only one, but two, maybe all of them; he couldn’t tell from this side of the car.
She sagged against him. “What the heck?”
One flat tire could’ve been from a nail or a bad cap. Two or more flats were too much of a coincidence. Someone had slashed her tires. And the car was far enough from the door of the club that the bouncers probably hadn’t seen anything. Not that he wouldn’t ask them.
Then Liz was pulling away from him, and he fought the urge to hold her tighter. He had to let her have some space to breathe, or he was liable to suffocate her. He knew this. Logically he understood it. But that didn’t make letting her go any easier. She neared the car. Her windows and everything else remained intact. She punched in a code on the driver-side door’s keypad and opened the door.