Taking the Lead(51)

Even through the pillowcase I could feel him coming close, standing directly in front of me. I tried to calm my breathing, but I could imagine him looking down at me, and equal parts excitement and shame coursed through me. Excitement because, well, being kidnapped-even pretend-kidnapped-was supposed to be an edgy thrill, wasn't it? Trust me, it was. Shame, though, because I knew I'd hurt him. What had I been thinking? Had I really yelled "I love you, get over it"? My father definitely wasn't the only one who ran hot and cold in our family. I had convinced myself that if I just never spoke to Axel again we would both move on. We'd both get over it.

I was definitely not over him. Even as he said coldly, "Ms. Ricki Hamilton, perhaps you'd like to tell me why you deserved to be brought here," most of what I felt was pure thrill that it was Axel, that the man I'd completely failed to get out of my mind was right there in front of me.

"I'm waiting," he prompted.

My mind went blank for a moment in a flash of blind panic. What was the question? Why did I think he had brought me here? What if I gave the wrong answer? But wait, maybe there was no wrong answer. This was like a cue line in improv class. What I said in reply was going to determine the direction of the scene. This was obviously supposed to be an interrogation. I sucked in a breath, trying to feel my way through it. What did I want? How did I want this to go? 

He clucked his tongue impatiently.

I swallowed, no time to think of something else, or something better. "Because  … " I couldn't say it. Could I? I hung my head inside the pillowcase. "Because I've been a bad girl."

"Ohhh, have you, now?" He started to walk around me in a circle. I couldn't hear his footsteps but I could hear his voice and I fought the urge to follow him with my head. "Care to elaborate on that?"

"Will my  …  punishment be lightened if I confess?"

"No, but your conscience might be," he said. "Trust me: you will get exactly what you deserve, regardless."

His words sent a shiver through me. He was going to show me no mercy: he was going to make me surrender.

Like he always did. I suddenly remembered something Sakura had said. Surrender wasn't something you could do for yourself. Someone else had to do it for you. Maybe I had been thinking about it backward all along. Axel wasn't going to "force me" to surrender. He was going to make it possible for me to surrender.

My insides were melting suddenly, as all the pent-up desire and need I'd had for him over the past few weeks of isolation broke free.

"I've been a bad girl," I said. "I said some really stupid things. I believed some really stupid things."

"Stupidity isn't a crime, exactly  … "

"No, but I pushed you away and treated you like you didn't matter." He was right: hearing myself say it I felt 100 percent lighter. The elation coursing through me spurred me to confess even more: "And I  …  I didn't tell you everything."

"Ahhh. I wondered if you were hiding something. Which is why I'm going to get the truth out of you even if I have to torture it out of you."

My heart was hammering as much in anticipation as in fear of what he might do. I bowed my head even more. "Yes, Mr. Hawke."

"Any questions, then?"

Are you doing this because you still love me or because now you hate me? I thought. But I couldn't ask that. If he hated you, he wouldn't be going through this much trouble, I told myself. And Sakura and Gwen would never have gone along with the plan. "If I go through with this, will you forgive me for being jealous about Sun-Lee?"

His chuckle was warm rather than cold. "I'm not angry about you being jealous. It proves you're human and that you really do want me. But if you want to be forgiven for, oh, cutting me off without so much as a word and making my life a living hell, well, take your punishment. This is going to hurt."

I sucked in a breath as I realized I'd be disappointed if it didn't. "I'm ready for it."

"Good."

He pulled the pillowcase away and the overhead spotlight made me shut my eyes. He forced me to my feet with one fist in my hair. The cuffs behind my back separated and he took them away, leaving my wrists feeling suddenly much lighter. I shifted from foot to foot on the carpet.

"Strip," he said, and resumed his circling.

I took off my blazer first and let it fall behind me. My fingers were trembling with excitement, making it difficult to undo the buttons on my blouse. I stole a glance at him standing at the edge of the beam of light.

Axel was wearing artfully faded jeans and nothing else. The dragon tattoo stood out starkly against his chest and his feet were bare. If the situation had been different I would have lingered over looking at him, drinking in the gorgeous sight. Instead, I snuck looks while trying to get my ruined stockings down.



       
         
       
        

When I had nothing on, not a stitch, I stood there unsure what to do with my hands.

"Lean forward," he said. "Spread your feet apart, hands on your thighs."

I did as he asked and my palms felt hot against my legs.

He stopped directly behind me. I felt very naked then, even though he wasn't wearing much himself. I shivered, wondering if he was about to caress my buttocks or spank them.

Instead he spoke. "Tell me what you're feeling."

"Uh  … "

"Take your time. But tell me the truth. You haven't always been so good at telling me what's going on inside you, Ricki."

"I know. I know; I'm sorry about that," I said, turning my head to look at him.

He made a warning noise, "Uh-uh, hold your position and answer the question. How are you feeling?"

I took a deep breath. "Exposed."

"Like you want to cover yourself?"

"No. Not in front of you. Just  …  exposed."

It sounded a little like he might have been smiling when he said, "Okay. What else?"

What else, indeed. "Shame."

"Shame, really? Because kink is something shameful?"

"No, just ashamed that I was so stupid. And that  …  that leads me to feeling like I'm not good enough for you. Like I fail at BDSM."

"Fail? How so?"

"Everyone's always going on about how the basis of BDSM is honesty and trust. And I haven't been honest."

"Sometimes honesty takes practice," he said. "Training. If we're talking dominance and submission, I'd much rather train you to tell me the truth than train you to come on command." He stepped close and I felt his hand slide down the skin of one butt cheek. "What else are you feeling?"

Things always come in threes, I suppose. So, exposed, shame, and what? "Anticipation."

"Not fear?"

"I'm not afraid of you." I was surprised to find it was true, but the longer the scene went on, the less and less afraid I felt. "Or of pain. Not when I know that pain will make us both feel better."

"Mm-hm. Maybe when I'm done with you, you'll feel ready to tell the truth." As if to challenge me, he smacked me hard on one ass cheek. It really stung and then burned as I stood there, waiting for the sensation to fade. Before it did, he smacked the other side and I lurched forward and caught myself with a step.

"Straighten up," he said. "Put your hands behind your head. Keep your feet apart. Wider."

If I thought I felt exposed when I was bent over showing him my ass, this was a new level. My breasts were thrust forward and I could feel the open air between my legs. 

He stood in front of me and ran his thumbs ever-so-lightly over my nipples, then teased them between his thumb and forefinger, not pinching at all but instead using more of those almost-not-there touches that had me wishing for a pinch. His eyes were so green under that bright light, it felt like he was seeing right through me.

"So. You almost came from me doing this, that time in the limo."

When had I told him that? Oh, right. "I was very, very aroused that time in the limo."

"Mm-hm." He seemed in no hurry, luxuriating in torturing me with caresses. If anything his touch seemed to get lighter and lighter, and I thrust my chest out more and more trying to get more stimulation. The next thing I knew I was all the way up on my tiptoes and it felt like the skin all over my body was alive with electricity. Every breath-light touch to my nipples felt like it was echoed by a throbbing longing between my legs. "And how aroused are you now?"

"V-very," I said, having trouble catching my breath.

He stepped back and I sank back onto my heels again, panting. He took another appraising walk around me. "If you can, look back at your butt. The handprints are impressive."

I craned my neck, twisting to look. He was right: a bright red handprint was practically glowing off my skin. I felt a warm wash of pride seeing that, and a feeling I didn't know how to name. It was like possessiveness, except I was the one being possessed. Having his handprint on me drove my desire to new heights.

"Back to position now," he prompted, and I put my hands behind my head again.

Now he ran his hands lightly over the spots where he had left his mark and it made me shiver delightfully. "These'll fade soon enough. Or they'll be blurred by the other welts I'm going to put on top of them."