Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission (8 page)

“Yeah, well, that could also be because you didn’t want your
pretty little ass hauled to jail.”

“I’m not sure that would be any worse,” she said, frankly.
“I mean, you’re throwing these threats around, acting one way one second,
totally different the next. It’s confusing. Scary.”

Her eyes were burning, darn it. Her nose.
Don’t cry.
He’ll think you’re trying to manipulate him.

She blinked several times.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze becoming even chillier.
Sub-arctic. “There you go with the waterworks again. I see now. Whenever you
get backed into a corner, you throw the switch, the tears start to flow, and
you’re off the hook.” He crowded her, grabbed her chin, and glared into her
eyes. “It doesn’t work with me anymore. I know the truth about you now. I know
you’re fucking Matt Becker, and you’re itching for a promotion—from the whore
of a sales manager to the whore of a vice president.”

She felt sick. Was that really what he believed? “No, I’m
not sleeping with Matt. You’re wrong.”

“Funny.” He dragged his thumb over her lower lip. He walked
her backward, until her back hit the wall. He thrust his arms forward, caging
her head between them. “But if you’d just come to me, I’d have fucked you. You
could’ve had your vice president. In fact…” He dropped his head and kissed her
roughly. His tongue thrust into her mouth, in complete domination.

Instantly, her body was on fire. Yes, this was what she’d
wanted last night. Pulses of liquid heat pounded down her torso to the juncture
of her thighs. Despite her confusion, she kissed him back, letting the searing
heat of the kiss burn away everything.

Insanity! This was complete craziness. But she couldn’t help
reacting to his kisses. She’d been waiting, ready. She moaned, stroking his
tongue with hers. Exploring the sweet depth of his mouth.

He bent his elbows, crushing his hard body against hers.
Wedged a knee between her trembling thighs.

Crazy!

She moaned, rocking her hips back and forth, desperate to
rub away the ache building between her legs.

He suckled her tongue and she slid her hands up his stomach,
whimpering.

Her head was swimming. Her body melting. Her brain
short-circuiting. She was falling, sliding down the wall, unable to remain
standing another second. Her pussy rested on his knee, a support. Oh, the
sensation. The glory of that hard leg against her soft, swollen tissues.

Insanity!

He caught her up into his arms and carried her to the bed,
laid her on it and then climbed over her. More of those amazing
nuclear-reactor-hot kisses. He gave her more, and she accepted him, eagerly.
His hands started at the sides of her face but—much to her joy—didn’t remain
there for long. Down her neck they traveled, to her shoulders, lower. He cupped
her breasts and she arched her back, pushing her breasts into his hands.

I need to stop this. Right now. Stop. Now.

She tried to turn her head, but he caught her face in his
hands again, kissing her until she couldn’t move, didn’t want to move. Wanted
nothing less than his hands on her naked body, his cock buried deep inside her
wet pussy.

She’d be sorry for this later, no doubt about it. But for
the first time in years, she just wanted to forget about shoulds and
should-nots and let go, follow her impulses instead of her head.

When Kyler lifted his weight off her body, she slid her
hands inside his shirt. Soft skin over flexing, shifting concrete. She found a
hard little nipple, teased it with her index finger, and received a low groan
as a reward.

He broke the kiss and gazed down at her through heavy-lidded
eyes full of raw lust. They weren’t cold anymore, nope. Instead of the arctic
blue of a frozen sea they were the steamy blue of a gas flame.

She felt her face warming, her chest. His tongue darted out,
slicking his full lower lip, and she stared, transfixed.

This man had the world’s most stunning features. Eyes that
instantly made a girl melt. Sharp cheekbones that cast deep shadows on his
face. A masculine jaw stubbled with the hint of a beard. And that mouth, oh
that mouth. He tasted better than anything.

She ached for another kiss, another touch—soft and gentle or
hard and possessive. Either way, both ways. Didn’t matter.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered. “What the fuck are we doing?”

“I—I don’t know.” She reached up inside his shirt again,
found that nipple, flicked her fingertip over the pebbled peak. His lips parted
and his gaze heated up another hundred degrees or so. “But I want you to know,
it’s not because you’re vice president. I just want you.”

He squeezed her head between his hands, his gaze sharp as
razors. “You say the right things…What the hell do I believe?”

She held his penetrating gaze, knowing if she glanced away,
she’d lose any chance of gaining his trust. “Believe your heart, Kyler.”

He crushed her body under his and kissed her to oblivion.

Follow his heart. Yeah, that’s what she said. That’s what
they all said—women who were looking to manipulate him. Just like his
ex-fiancée. Some women knew how to work a man, knew how to use his weaknesses
to get what they wanted. He’d made it really easy for Elena too.

Dammit, looks were so fucking deceiving. And here he thought
he’d learned. He’d lived by the trust-none-of-them rule for over two years and
things had been going so great.

Follow his heart. Hah.

I know what you’re up to, you little schemer.

“Kyler? What’s wrong?”

But dammit, he was so fucking hard right now. He could
barely see straight. He’d bet she was wet, her slick passage ready for him. Why
should he stop himself? If Elena was willing to give it up, why should he deny
himself? He could fuck her, and then he’d leave her sit in this room until
Tuesday. If that was what she wanted to do to herself—let men fuck her to get
ahead—then that was what she’d get from him.

Still straddling Elena, on his knees, he yanked his shirt
off then rolled off the bed and pulled off his pants and underwear. She was
still wearing that clingy knit top and those black pants. He wanted to see her
fully unclothed but lacked the patience. Instead, after she unbuttoned and
unzipped the fly, he just yanked her slacks down her smooth, slender legs and
tossed them on the floor. No underpants. Even better.

“Kyler!”

He didn’t meet her gaze as he wedged his hips between her
legs. Rolled on a rubber. He didn’t kiss her again, just fingered her slick
heat, prepared to drive his cock deep inside her. He replaced his fingers with
the tip of his rod.

She shoved at his chest. “Kyler. Stop! Why are you acting
like this?”

Dammit.

Fuck.

What the hell was he doing?

He couldn’t go through with this. That would make him no
better than that piece of shit, Becker. Disgusted with himself, with Becker,
and with Elena, he jerked upright and tugged off the rubber.

“You bastard.” She had no right to look that way at him now,
like he was a heartless beast. She’d begged him, not the other way around.

“What’s wrong?” he echoed. “Wasn’t this what you expected?”

She didn’t speak, just dragged her legs back together and
pulled the coverlet over herself.

“I guess that’s a no.” He tossed the rubber in the trashcan
then grabbed his pants and shirt. He stepped into his sweats, didn’t bother
with the underwear or the tank. He sat on the edge of the bed.

Elena’s eyes were frigid, her gaze distant, her expression
completely blank. For about three seconds, he was actually sorry for treating
her like the whore she was determined to be. Then she swung her little fist at
him, her target, his nose.

He dodged the blow and pushed to his feet. “A little hint.
If you’re going to use sex to get what you want, you’ve got to learn to look at
it like a pro. It’s just a fuck. A cock and a pussy.”

He left, shutting the door behind him, closing himself off
from Elena…and the guilt eating at his gut.

* * * * *

Elena wasn’t sure what was worse—the shame she felt after
that…whatever it was. The knowledge that she was fucked in an altogether
different way. Or the fact that she was totally devastated by Kyler’s
absolutely frigid treatment.

He’d treated her like she was a worthless piece of crap.
Why? He’d said she was using sex to get what she wanted. That was the farthest
thing from the truth.

Maybe it was simply impossible for the two of them to
communicate. It seemed he was always misreading her, mistrusting her,
misunderstanding her. What had set him off this time?

Oh, who cared? She didn’t need this shit. She just needed to
go home, do some packing, and try to figure out how she’d start over again.

She was exhausted already. She inched open the door, finding
her purse out in the hallway, empty, the contents strewn all over the floor.
Eyes blurry with tears, she gathered her cosmetics, wallet, receipts and hair
brush, stuffed them back in her purse. Then she hurried down the hall, making a
beeline for the staircase. As she skipped down the steps, she kept looking, listening
for Kyler, expecting him to pop out from somewhere and make good on his threat.
She made it as far as the foot of the staircase before she stopped.

It sure would be nice if she could find her car keys. Was it
worth a shot? She heard a sound from the general direction of the greatroom.
Oh, hell, she was already eyeball deep in trouble. What worse could happen? She
rushed back upstairs. There were seven doors, all closed. One of them, she
knew, led to her room.

She started at the one closest to the stairs. Opened it.
Peeked inside. Gasped. Shut it.

Not the room she was looking for, nope.

She opened the door again. Wow. She’d never seen a room like
this before, well, not in person. A bondage room. Dungeon.

She’d always wondered what it would be like playing in a
room like this. Playing. What a word.

The truth was, she’d been curious about BDSM for quite some
time. She’d done a lot of reading, soul searching. She’d even mentioned it to
Ashley.

Maybe Ashley was right, her fascination with domination and
submission was because she’d been forced to grow up too early, had the weight
of her younger brother’s care dumped on her slender shoulders before she’d been
truly ready to handle it. She didn’t know. All she knew was that this world, of
submission and trust and control, was calling to her. She sensed it would fill
a deep need.

If only she’d been able to find the right man to explore
these things with. Ironic, that Kyler was into this stuff. After today, he was
the last man she’d trust with her vulnerabilities.

She glanced over her shoulder, checking the hall before
moving deeper into the room. Touching the furniture would make it more real,
more possible. She headed for the sex swing first. How’d the thing work? It was
little more than a collection of metal poles and straps, now that she was
closer. The seat was just a narrow band. Same with the back.

She headed for another piece, a pair of benches angling away
from each other, a wooden cross was affixed to the wall at the point where they
met. She sat on the benches, legs spread so that a thigh rested on each one,
supporting her weight. Nothing sat directly beneath her bottom. She closed her
eyes, indulging in a quick fantasy. If she was naked and with a dark and
mysterious Dom…

The door swung open and, desperate to not be caught sitting
on Kyler’s bondage gear with her legs spread—especially after his last
comment—she flopped forward, landing on her hands and knees.

Of course he’d found her here. It was just her luck.

“Now that’s an interesting position,” he said from the
doorway. His voice was sharp, his gaze piercing, smoldering.

Oh God, she was mortified.

Trying to save face, she scooped up her purse and scrambled
to her feet. She wanted to give him some excuse for being in this room, but
what could she possibly say that wouldn’t make her look even worse? Already, he
believed she was a whore, the kind of woman who fucked her way into a
promotion. Nothing she’d said had convinced him otherwise. In fact, it seemed
the last words she’d spoken had made things a lot worse.

So, rather than offer him up some more ammunition to use
against her, she jerked her gaze from his and hurried past him, back to her
room. Once inside, she collapsed on the bed.

What now?

She really, really wanted to find her keys before she headed
out. Was it practical for her to leave without them? Never mind her car, her
house was locked too. She’d have to break in to get inside.

She dug in her purse for her phone, flipped it open. Down to
one bar now. Shoot! Did it have enough juice to call Ashley? Maybe she
shouldn’t use up the last few nanoseconds of her cell’s battery life now, when
she might be able to use a landline to call instead.

The cordless phone had been downstairs, in the kitchen. She
wondered if Kyler had another phone upstairs. Most people had more than one
phone jack, especially in a house this size.

She checked her room, found no phone. She listened at the
door. It sounded like Kyler had gone back downstairs. Good. She’d go hunting
again. Most people had a phone in the master bedroom.

She inched open the door, peered up and down the hall. No
Kyler. Good. She tiptoed down the hall to the next door, opened it. Another
bedroom. But it looked like another guest room.

What did one person need with a bazillion bedrooms, anyway?
This house was ridiculously big for a single guy. He practically had enough
beds to sleep in a different one each night.

She closed that door and headed to the next one. Another
guest bedroom. Then a bathroom. Finally, at the end of the hall, she found the
master bedroom. And oh, what a master bedroom it was.