“Fuck. I can’t wait anymore,” Elijah said. Clasping her around the waist, he lifted her easily and carried her the few steps to a padded waist-high bench. He laid her across it so that the width of the padded leather cradled her from sternum to hip, her bound arms coming to rest on the small of her back.
Her sensitized nipples pressed into the cool leather and her entire body shuddered at the shock waves of sensation radiating out from those dual points.
“Have to have you. Right now.”
Samantha rested her cheek on the cool leather, closed her eyes, and listened to the tearing of a foil wrapper. Her legs were still bound, her toes barely touching the floor, and she felt weightless, a puppet to be maneuvered.
Elijah slid his fingers between her legs, making Samantha shift restlessly and groan.
“So wet. So ready. Such a good little cat.” The smell of latex filled the air, and then Samantha felt the hard tip of Elijah’s cock position itself at her hot, ready entrance.
Anticipation and panic twined together inside her. He was going to take her, right here, right now. They were going to have sex—in public. It seemed so much more intense than everything else they’d already done.
Though her mind struggled to accept that this was okay, her body trembled with anticipation and heat.
“Brace yourself,” he warned her, and she barely had a moment to inhale before he seated himself fully, pulled back, and slammed home again. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady as he set a fast, furious pace.
Samantha could do nothing but close her eyes and let the sensations overtake her. Her nipples chafed against the surface of the bench, and with every thrust Elijah rocked her clit against the edge of the table, making her shake. When his pace increased and she sensed desperation in his movements, he slid a hand between her pelvis and the bench, his fingers seeking and finding the swollen nub of her clit.
“Oh, fuck!” Samantha couldn’t hold back her scream—the first touch of his fingers on her clit set off an explosion. He continued to manipulate the engorged flesh, drawing out the pleasure as he seated himself one final time, his hip bones jutting into the soft flesh of her rear as he came with a shout.
All Samantha could hear when the shudders subsided was their breath—his and hers, fast yet soft. He stayed inside her, covering her, protecting her, and she felt like a bottle emptied of liquid and refilled with bliss.
Every thought floated from her grasp like a leaf in the water. She simply breathed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Y
ou live upstairs from a BDSM club?” Elijah heard the incredulity in Samantha’s voice as he carried her out of the club and around to the back of the building. She had been so completely relaxed—boneless, even—when he’d untied the pink silk scarves and helped her down from the bench that he hadn’t trusted her to walk.
Not that he was much better. Her response to his commands had milked a release from him that he thought might take days to recover from.
He chuckled at her sleepy question.
“Of the three of us—Luca, Alex, and myself—I’ve always handled most of the day-to-day operations of Veritas. It makes sense for me to live here.”
What he didn’t add was that he had moved in after his divorce from Tara . . . and that he’d never brought a woman here before. It had been easier to play down in the club, then to excuse himself and go home.
No entanglements that way. No mistakes. And while he carried his toy bag back and forth, he didn’t have a dungeon in his place.
With the playroom of Veritas downstairs, he didn’t see the point.
“I think you’ll find that you have everything you need here. If you don’t, just ask.” Elijah swiped his key card through the lock on the door, which led directly into an elevator. Originally an old Victorian home, the house was only three stories high, but he liked the speed and convenience of the private lift, which serviced only his place.
“Pretty slick,” Samantha murmured as the elevator reached the top floor and a second set of doors opened on the opposite side of the elevator. He watched her eyes widen as she took in the entrance to his home.
Letting the elevator doors close behind them, Elijah carried Samantha into the arched entryway. Without pausing, he moved down the wide, softly lit hallway to the very end.
“Getting right to it, are we?” Samantha arched an eyebrow at him as he slowly slid her down the length of his body, setting her softly on the massive bed in his bedroom.
Catching her chin in his hand, he squeezed once, gently. He enjoyed watching her eyes widen as his touch reminded her that, though they were outside the club now, playtime wasn’t yet over and she had rules to follow.
He began to shed his clothing and watched as she looked around, her eyes curious and eager. He liked her curiosity, enjoyed the fact that she wasn’t passive about life.
“Does it pass inspection?” he asked wryly as he stepped out of his pants. Then, naked, he took her hands and lifted her from the bed. He found the hidden zipper at the side of her bustier and unfastened it, letting it and the micro-miniskirt fall to the floor.
His cock stiffened as all of that creamy skin came into view.
She gasped as he picked up her naked form and, slinging her over his shoulder, carried her to the massive en suite bathroom.
“Elijah!” Samantha was wiggling enough to make him contemplate pinning her against a wall and taking her again. “I can walk! You don’t have to go all Neanderthal.”
He grinned and nuzzled his cheek against the curve of her hip.
“This is called aftercare, kitten. It’s my responsibility to take care of you after a scene.”
He could all but hear her roll her eyes as she stopped struggling, which was a pity in his opinion.
“And just what does this aftercare consist of?” Samantha purred, arching her body into his.
Elijah cursed inwardly, ignoring the heady desire that she was wringing from him yet again. Grabbing two plush, oversized bath sheets from the towel warmer, he placed one on the bamboo bench that sat beside his bathtub.
“Down you get.” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he placed Samantha on top of the heated towel. He wrapped the second hug of warmth around her shoulders.
“Oh, that’s lovely.” Samantha closed her eyes and savored the warmth. He took the opportunity to start the water in the lake-sized bathtub.
Females liked bubble bath, didn’t they? Frowning, he looked around. He and his partners had originally fashioned the upper floor of Veritas into a series of apartments for their personal use, and for staff members like Julien. After his divorce, when he’d decided to live above the club full-time, he’d renovated the space, turning the six apartments into one massive penthouse.
He had everything he wanted . . . except bubble bath. Inspired, he moved into the shower stall and grabbed a bottle of shampoo, oblivious to the expensive Italian tiles or the multiple rainfall showerheads.
Samantha, however, was not blind to those details. Elijah saw curiosity warring with something else in her eyes as he returned to the bath and squeezed a liberal amount of shampoo into the water.
“I never would have expected all of this from outside.” Her voice was quiet, as it tended to be when she was confronted with his wealth. “Sometimes you’re just so normal that I forget how very rich you are.”
“You’re a puzzle, little cat.” Satisfied with the froth of bubbles, Elijah removed the towels he’d wrapped around her and, lifting her one more time, carried her to the stone steps that led down into the beckoning water.
“How am I a puzzle?” She looked at him with those direct eyes—eyes he would never have guessed held a secret if he wasn’t so adept at reading people. Holding the gaze, looking back over her shoulder, she waded into the bath, steam curling around her and reminding him of Botticelli’s
Birth of Venus
, one of his favorite paintings.
“Most women I meet know what businesses I’m involved in, my estimated net worth, the restaurants I frequent.” Reaching for her shoulders and pulling her back until she was floating against his shoulder, he let his hands skim over her breasts without lingering.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her that he wanted a woman who would let him care for her. To his way of thinking, the need came hand in hand with dominance, which was, at its root, about the needs of the sub. Though he felt satisfaction when he saw the cherry color of her nipples, still tender from the clamps, and though his cock had fully hardened when he’d watched her walk into the steam, this moment was about her.
“And though we have a rigorous screening process at Veritas, once in a while one of these gold diggers gets through. They don’t seem to much care whether they get the attention of Alex, Luca, or myself, but they’re usually more interested in securing a wealthy lover than in submission.” Elijah felt Samantha’s shoulders tense, then quickly unclench as he poured cupped handfuls of water over her hair, wetting it.
The silence stretched out for a long moment, but when he positioned himself so that he could reach over to get the shampoo, she turned and pinned him with that inquisitive stare again.
“I know I’m new to this, and I don’t always know what I’m doing,” she started, moving toward him in the waist-high water. “But you have to believe . . . this is what I want.”
Elijah was uncharacteristically taken aback by her directness.
“I don’t know if you and I will work out any more than any relationship ever does,” she continued, and Elijah felt a tight clenching begin in his gut, accompanied by a surge of stubborn male pride.
He found that he didn’t want to think about Samantha moving on, not at all. And though it was contrary to some of his own concerns, the idea that she might leave made him want to chain her up in his bedroom until she came to her senses.
“But our days together have already shown me that this is what I’ve been searching for,” she concluded.
Suddenly uncertain, she widened her eyes and laced her fingers together. Elijah continued to study her. Confusion was rare for him—he liked to live a life that was as straightforward as possible.
But this woman, with her combination of sweet submission and boldness, wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before.
“I’ve come to feel more for you in these few days than I’ve felt in a long time,” he said carefully, twisting the shampoo bottle in his hands. “But to fully submit to me, you have to share everything with me, Samantha.
Everything
.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and he knew that she understood what he was referring to. He had to give her credit for not denying it, for not pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about.
But from the stubborn set of her jaw, he saw that if he pushed in that moment, all she would do was dig in her heels.
Damn. Her refusal to bend was the single most frustrating thing he’d ever encountered.
He wouldn’t tell her it was all right to take the easy way out, because she needed to learn to obey his commands. She was new to this, yes, but she had to try.
He also needed honesty from her if this was going to work.
Needing a moment to think about how exactly to handle her, he took her by the shoulders, turning her so that he could work shampoo through her hair.
“Oh!” Samantha started as he turned her to face the window. Elijah smiled as he squirted the liquid into his hand. It smelled spicy, he supposed, and wasn’t at all suited to her. He’d have to get her something more appropriate.
She sighed as he worked his fingers against her scalp, but didn’t relax. She leaned forward to better see out the window, and he let her have her first spectacular view of Vegas.
“It’s not Baja, but it has its own appeal.” Elijah continued to work the shampoo through the heavy ropes of wet hair as Samantha inched them both toward the window. Planting her hands on the sill, she leaned forward until her nose touched the glass.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” She cast a quick look of delight over her shoulder at him, then returned, craning her neck to see more of the neon lights.
“You can see it better from most of the other buildings.” He resolved to take her on a tour of the city, so that she could see it in all its neon glory. “Veritas was meant to be unobtrusive.”
“It’s amazing.” Samantha finally tore her eyes away from the brightly lit night and relaxed against him. “I’ve never been to a big city before.”
Elijah’s fingers paused for the briefest of moments before resuming their methodical work. Though she’d seemed closed off only moments before, the unexpected view seemed to have pulled an almost childlike enthusiasm from her, opening her up to him.
Whatever her issues were, he suspected they lay with her family, her home. He was certain that by moving to Mexico she’d deliberately distanced herself from whatever it was she wanted to forget.
He had decided—he was going to push her. But there was more than one way to do that.
“I hadn’t seen a city like this before I moved here, either.” Elijah urged her to lean back against him as he began to rinse the shampoo from her hair. “I grew up in a small town in Arkansas, got my start there, and was dazzled by Vegas.”
“
You
are from Arkansas?” Finally tearing herself away from the window, Samantha turned. Elijah’s fingers slipped from her hair, and he took the opportunity to tilt her backward. She released a startled noise as, with one hand steady beneath her back, he held her in the water and gently rinsed the remaining suds from her hair.
This gave him a second to think. Elijah had made the very deliberate decision to not tell many people about his past, because he didn’t care for the idea of nosy paparazzi converging on Harley, Arkansas. Alex, Luca, Tara—they were the only ones he’d ever told. And he was surprised that Tara hadn’t shared his secret in revenge, acrimonious as their divorce had been.
It felt strange to make the decision to trust her with this. But he was certain that Samantha would rather give up her glass studio than betray a trust. And though with a more experienced sub he would insist on revelations from his sub first, telling his secrets second as a reward, he knew already that that strategy wasn’t going to work with Samantha.