Show Me, Baby:A Masters of the Shadowlands Novella(22)

"You're here to care for the submissive. To take what you want. Not to lean on them."

"Stand on your own fucking feet."

But he wasn't leaning … exactly. With a sigh, Jake drew the sweet  submissive closer and let her tenderness ease the chill in his heart.  Something fuzzy settled onto his bare foot.

He pulled back far enough to see Guido lying beside Rainie with his muzzle on Jake's foot.

"I think that's a dog's version of a group hug. Or maybe he's hungry,"  Rainie said. She smiled up at him, innocence filling her face. "Me, too.  Are you cooking me supper, then?"

He stared. She wasn't asking him if he wanted company, but  just … pushing … herself into his evening. And fuck, he didn't want to be  alone, especially not with a little dog who would constantly remind him  of his loss. "Ah … how do you feel about grilled steak?"

"Warmly. I could feel quite warmly toward a good steak dinner." She bent  to pat Guido. "Let me get Rhage, and I'll even help cook."







Several hours later, Rainie watched as Jake rose to put the DVD away.

He'd tossed the back cushions of his toast-colored sectional onto the  floor, leaving the wide bottom cushion for them to lie on side-by-side.  It had been a comfortable way to enjoy television, but the evening had  reached an end. She'd better head home.

With a sigh, she sat up and swung her legs to the floor.

Before she could stand, he rejoined her on the couch. "What did you think of the movie?"

"Galaxy Quest isn't bad," she said, judiciously. "Good choice."

He snorted. "Considering you had to have a funny movie with a romance and a happy ending, I'd say I did an excellent job."

"Hey, I gave you lots of alternatives."

"Sweetling, I have balls. I'm not allowed to watch movies with names  like Runaway Bride or 27 Dresses. At least, not in the first month of  screwing around." His dark green eyes caught hers, held them, as he drew  his finger across her lips. "We're not permitted a ‘cute' romance at  all … unless it's horror, sci-fi, or has really explicit sex."

"You don't get much X-rated sex in comedies."

"Now that's just sad." Still holding her gaze, he turned his hand over,  trailing the backs of his fingers down her neck. When his hand closed,  he had her hair in an unbreakable grip. He tugged, forcing her head to  tilt back.         

     



 

She couldn't move away as he took her mouth, penetrating with his  tongue, exploring …  Her mind spun under the onslaught as he moved closer.

She stiffened as he started to push her back-and he paused. Letting her  decide. She shivered as she remembered sex at her apartment and how he'd  made her verbalize her desire for him to stay. And how, after that  point, she wasn't allowed to decide anything.

She wanted him tonight. So, so much.

No. She should leave.

"Jake, I didn't come here to mess around." Yet, what would it hurt? He  was so sad; he needed her. And she wanted him. She'd lusted after him  from the first moment, and the more she got to know him, the more she  wanted him.

Tonight, she'd been afraid to find his home decorated in a  snobbish-sophisticated style. Instead the landscaping was sweetly rural,  the house older and decorated for comfort in creams and browns, with  tall windows and ceiling fans in every room.

In the living room, a geometric design rug, thick enough to screw around  on, covered the lime-washed oak flooring. A leather-topped coffee table  practically begged for bare feet. The long sectional faced the usual  hi-tech guy electronics, like the television that took up most of the  wall. Another wall was all windows, framed by fan palms, and overlooking  the rolling fields. The low bookcase against the third wall held  military history and thrillers. She felt at home in his house.

And she could stay tonight. She could. She'd be leaving Florida soon.  Having sex with the boss wouldn't affect her job; she'd be gone within a  month.

As her resistance eroded, he knew; he pushed her back and followed her  down. His lips were firm, knowing, yet soft enough to lure. His weight  pushed her deeper into the cushions, and the anxious thrill of being  overpowered increased when he set her arms above her head.

"Jake. What are you doing?"

"This." As he pinned her wrists with one powerful hand, she  instinctively struggled and found herself helpless. The melting  sensation in her depths said her body wanted that loss of control-no  matter what her mind tried to tell her.

His hip rubbed hers as he sat up. For a moment, he studied her, and his  lips curved upward. "Good," he murmured in his smoky smooth voice. "We  agree. Tying you down is an excellent idea."

Her mouth dropped open. "We? I didn't say anything."

"Not verbally. But you have a very talkative body, sweetling." He  reached past the arm of the couch and pulled something up-two Velcro  cuffs attached to a thick rope. Swiftly, he slipped one cuff around her  right wrist, yanked the Velcro tight, and did the same to the other. She  had no chance to escape before he'd restrained her arms.

She glared at him, trying to ignore the internal flutter at how easily he'd immobilized her. "I didn't agree."

"Safeword's red, buttercup. Anything else is agreement." His eyes  laughed at her as he adjusted the cuffs to a more comfortable snugness.

Sitting back, he considered her. "You're a bit overdressed." His voice came close to a purr. "Let me fix that for you."

She'd removed her sandals earlier. Now he yanked off her shorts, started  to take off her thong, and paused at the picture of a four-leaf  clover-directly over her clit-with green letters stating, RUB FOR LUCK.

"As you wish." Grinning, he pulled her legs apart and followed the  instructions. His scraping strokes over the fabric grazed her clit,  making it burn, making it swell. God, the man knew how to touch a woman.

He stopped long enough to yank off her thong, then ran his finger over her bare pussy. "I do like the way you keep yourself."

"Uh, thanks?" Yet his enjoyment made it worth the time doing Hazel's  accounts in exchange for a waxing … and the Jesus-Help-Me agony of having  the wax ripped off.

One by one, Jake undid her buttons, and the anticipation grew within  her. When he opened her front-hooked bra, her breasts spilled out.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he murmured and the compliment put a happy beat  in her heart. Cupping his hands on the sides, he pushed her breasts  together so he could lick her nipples. His mouth was hot, his tongue  wet, slick, yet slightly scratchy.

Her breathing changed to short little pants as he played, and she  shivered when he rubbed his bristly chin over the damp areolas. Her back  arched, pushing her breasts toward him. God, she wanted more. Wanted  him. Wanted-

"Like being scratched, eh? Let's do more of that." Smiling slightly, he lifted the hinged top of his coffee table.

Her eyes widened at the wealth of BDSM equipment. "Oh my God."         

     



 

"Why restrict myself to a one-room dungeon-I prefer to use the entire  house." He opened a small, carved box and fitted stainless steel claws  over the fingertips of his right hand. Like a cat's, each curved  downward, narrowing to needle thinness.

A jolt of fear slid through her, and she tugged at the restraints. No give.

He lifted his hand.

"No!" The word burst from her. "I don't like needles."

With his unencumbered left hand, he captured her chin. "Look at me."

She couldn't pull her gaze from the sharp glittering claws. Her hands clenched.

"Look. At. Me." The subterranean note in his order tugged on something deep inside her.

Her eyes lifted. Met his. Read the control in his steady green gaze.  Jake-this is Jake. The breath blockaded in her lungs sighed out.

"Better." Laughter tipped his lips. "However, be aware that I consider  ‘no' to be a delightful addition to an evening. A safeword will work. No  turns me on."

Oh God. Why did his pleasure in screwing with her limits make her hotter? She made a frustrated-worried-sound.

A crease appeared in his cheek. Turning his needle-tipped hand over, he  skimmed over her hard-peaked nipples with only his bare knuckles. Not  the claws.

Her hands relaxed.

His grip tightened on her chin, holding her face for his perusal. And  then he drew the claws lightly from her right shoulder all the way to  her wrist.

No pain. Just a long tickling array of scratches. Her skin tingled afterward.

"Breathe, Rainie," he said softly.

She exhaled and sucked in air.

His laugh was sexily husky. His left hand stayed curved around her jaw,  trapping her while he raked his clawed fingers along her stomach. He  pressed sharply enough to not tickle, hard enough to remind her of the  sharpness of the points.

Down they swept … toward her mound.

Every muscle in her body tensed. She started to draw her thighs together to protect the very, very exposed tissues.