by Shayla Black
“I assure you, it’s big enough for both of us.”
Lizzie looked at Braden’s enormous bathtub, and she knew he was right. The problem was, she didn’t want to climb into the inviting water with him.
The sex they shared was magnificent, and her introduction to BDSM had exceeded all of her expectations. But what really ripped apart her carefully constructed world was the way he cared for her.
After he’d orgasmed, he untangled their bodies, then he released her wrists and rubbed her skin before helping her to lower each arm in turn.
Then he’d returned with a bottle of massage oil to remove the wax. While he cleaned up the bedroom, she rinsed off, then luxuriated in his steam shower. Then he filled the bathtub with water and invited her to join him.
He offered his hand.
Still, she hesitated. She was already wrapped in a towel and most of the way dry. It would be smarter to put some physical as well as emotional distance between them. But the truth was, she didn’t want to. And what was her plan? To return to the guest room? Crawl back into his bed while he was in the bathroom?
All of a sudden, her emotions were making things complicated. The morning would arrive soon enough, and she could sort through her thoughts and feelings then. After everything they’d shared, what harm could come from spending another few minutes together?
Lizzie accepted his help, stepping into the far end, then bracing herself on the wall as she lowered herself into the depths.
“Come here.”
She went to him, and he wrapped his arms around her and tucked her hair to one side.
“Tell me about your experience.”
Do I have to? She wrinkled her nose and was glad her back was to him so he couldn’t see her.
“That’s part of the whole thing. Letting me know what you think, what worked, what didn’t.”
“I never talked about sex before.”
“Maybe not with others.” His voice was soothing, helping push aside her inhibitions. “But you will with me.”
“It was…” Life changing. “Everything I hoped it could be.”
“The spanking?”
She shuddered. “I’d be interested in trying that again.” Even though it wouldn’t, couldn’t happen again.
“The flogger.”
“Weird.”
He drew her back. “How so?”
“Like… it bites or stings, but it can also be gentle. I liked it.”
“And the candle?”
“Exquisite. Hot, but not too much, and when it hardens, it becomes…” She frowned. “It’s hard to explain. Tight on my skin.” She’d never experienced such an onslaught of reactions. One drop was hardening as another formed.
“So everything we did would go on your list of approved activities?”
Lizzie nodded. Then her mind skipped ahead to a future that was impossible. What other experiences were out there?
He kissed the side of her neck. No other man had ever treated her like this. He’d set a standard that she wasn’t sure anyone could live up to.
When he tightened his grip around her, the emeralds in his ring glinted. Talking about it would be safer than discussing sex or sifting through the mess that was her emotional state. “I’ve been wondering about something.”
“Hmm?”
“What’s the significance of your owl?”
“This one?” He moved his finger.
“Rafe was wearing the same one.” Was he stalling? “And there’s a picture of your dad in the study, shaking hands with the president. I can’t be entirely certain, but they had rings that look like yours.” When he still didn’t answer, she pressed on. “Is it from a college fraternity or something?”
“Or something.”
She twisted around so that she could look at him. His lips were set in a firm line, which meant he was stalling. “It’s different when I’m asking the questions, isn’t it?”
“I belong to an organization known as the Zetas.”
Lizzie frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Not many people have.”
Realization dawned. “You’re not talking about a secret society or something, are you?” They didn’t exist; she was convinced of it.
When he didn’t answer, she scooted back a little farther so she could she study his reactions. “You’re not serious.”
He shrugged. “Asked and answered.”
“Hypothetically, then…” She wasn’t sure how to phrase her question. “If secret societies actually existed, would the Zetas be among them?”
“That’s quite a reach.”
But he hadn’t said no.
Suddenly it became clearer to her. Her mother’s evasiveness. The dozens of photographs featuring Braden’s grandfather and father with other notable people. The owl on the desk. The Z symbol on the rings and on a banner. “You’re a member of a secret society? What do you do, rule the world?”
He shrugged, denying nothing.
“Are you going to tell me more?” She scooted away a little bit farther, this time to distance herself from him. “We slept together. You expect honesty.”
“It’s an organization, yes. And we don’t publicly talk about it. So that makes it secret, I suppose. But it’s not nefarious.”
“So what it is?”
“Mostly, it does good in the world.”
“Mostly?”
He smiled, but it didn’t ease the tension in her. “You would seize that word.”
“The organization was formed in the 1800s by a group of men who were in a secret college fraternity. Years later, they decided to help each other in various ways, referrals, business loans, that sort of thing.”
“Why do I feel as if you’re leaving out part of the story?”
“We have a long list of charitable causes. Every year, we have a two-week event on our estate in Louisiana. Members from all over the world attend for different parts of it. We discuss world events and exchange ideas. It’s all very informal. A few workshops. And because we’re in the same place at the same time, we get to spend time with people we wouldn’t ordinarily see. And like any organization, there’s a small group who run it. In this case, it’s a steering committee.” He shrugged. “And it’s my understanding it’s every bit as boring as it sounds. Inviting speakers to the annual meeting, approving membership requests, coordinating volunteers for the charity events I mentioned.”
“You’re not telling me the interesting parts.”
“That’s all there is to it.” He paused. “Except for the bonfire and the sacrifice.”
Her eyes widened.
“That’s a joke. Well, the sacrifice is, anyway.”
She couldn’t tell fact from fiction. “I’ll find out on the internet.”
“There won’t be much there. If you have specific questions, come to me.”
“You haven’t exactly been forthcoming.”
“I’ll tell you more as time goes on.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned them continuing a relationship, which was something she couldn’t allow to happen.
Since the water had cooled, he flipped the lever to drain it. “Come back to bed with me, Lizzie.”
He was back to calling her the less formal name, and yet that had an intimacy that their BDSM lacked, and it affected her in a completely different way, making her more vulnerable to him.
He climbed out of the bath and shucked the water from his skin before grabbing a big, fluffy towel for her.
After drying her off, he led her to the bedroom.
While she’d been in the shower, he’d removed the sheeting and turned back the comforter. He’d also turned off the lights except for a dim lamp on the nightstand. There was a condom next to it. All along, he’d planned to seduce her again.
And it worked.
He lifted her up onto the mattress, then followed her.
This time, after giving her a couple of orgasms, he donned the condom, then rolled onto his back and lift
ed her on top of him.
“Ride me, Lizzie.”
This was something else she’d never done. And she didn’t need to tell him that. Without saying anything, he held her around the waist, keeping her steady while she lowered herself on him.
Her pussy was sore from his flogger, his licking, kissing, melted drops of wax, and the earlier sex. Braden’s cock was exceptionally thick, and long. Earlier she’d been unable to find the words to tell him that he was much larger than anyone else she’d been with. She was grateful they’d taken a bath together, otherwise she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do this right now.
Once she found the right position, straddling him and leaning slightly forward, she began to ride him, taking a bit at a time, then raising herself back up.
Being in control was powerful, and she liked it.
“Exactly right.” He cupped her breasts and squeezed them, driving her wild.
The slightest bit of pain increased her pleasure ten times. She tossed her head, losing herself in the myriad sensations.
He gripped her a little tighter and her head fell back as an orgasm rushed through her, and seconds later, she was pinned beneath him, and he was fucking her hard as he looked down at her.
“Put your hands over your head for me.”
He wouldn’t be denied, nor would she want to test him. Obeying him completely, she lifted her arms, and he pinned her wrists to the mattress.
In a primitive way that needed no words, he possessed her. He captured her mouth in a searing kiss, and they came at the exact same moment.
A wild energy rocked through her. She’d met all of his Dominant demands with every part of herself, holding nothing back.
Then, after a final shudder claimed him, he rolled to the side and tucked her against him. “You’re mine, sweet Lizzie. Make no mistake.”
His words rocked her. She was certain he meant what he said at that moment, while blinded by the heat of passion.
Likely he said them to anyone.
She closed her eyes and snuggled into him, determined to enjoy their remaining moments together. Because once a new day dawned, she would never see him again.
6
“How about dinner tonight, Lizzie?”
More than anything, this was the moment she’d been dreading. Since she couldn’t find the words to respond, she remained silent.
This morning, she’d awakened in his bed, still in his arms. And she hadn’t wanted to move.
She expected to feel some embarrassment from the night before, but she hadn’t. Instead, she was at peace in a way she hadn’t been for years. Having sex, scening with him, had been inevitable, at least for her. From the moment she’d been in his closet and discovered he was a Dominant, she’d wanted to experience everything he had to offer.
While he dozed, she’d slipped from his arms and escaped to the closet. By the time he threw back the sheet, she was wearing last night’s dress and her heels.
Braden suggested they go out to breakfast and she politely refused, saying she had a lot to get done since she’d spent the entire day before helping her mother prepare for the party.
He’d been adamant she stay for coffee, and he popped a couple of frozen waffles in the toaster oven. Those she wanted. Her mother had made them, and they were Lizzie’s favorite. She was tempted to text her mom and ask for a stash of her own. But that would mean admitting she was at Braden’s house.
After eating, she picked up her phone to arrange for a ride, but Braden had been adamant that he was taking her home. His arms were folded, and it wasn’t worth the argument.
The drive to her downtown house took under fifteen minutes, and the conversation in his luxury SUV was awkward. At the curb, she thanked him for the ride, then all but leaped out of the vehicle and hurried up the sidewalk.
She shouldn’t have been surprised when he followed.
Now, with a trembling hand, she stuck the key in the lock, but she refused to turn it. If she opened the door, she might weaken and invite him in. Instead, standing there on the stoop, she faced him.
“There’s a seafood restaurant that Rafe recommends. I’m sure I can get reservations. How’s seven?”
“I’m sorry, Braden.” She shook her head even as she told herself there was nothing to apologize for. He was merely going through the polite formalities that happened after he slept with a woman.
Or maybe he meant it when he said he wanted to see her again. Perhaps he’d enjoyed the sex as much as she did and actually did want to hook up again.
But she had her rules about relationships. Career first. Men second, and then only if they were interested in something long-term. And his reputation proved he was not. Seeing the world’s most scandalous billionaire again would no doubt lead to certain—and maybe unrecoverable—heartbreak. Unfortunately for her, her emotions were already tied up in him.
“Lizzie—”
“Don’t.” She gave a ghost of a smile that faded as quickly as it formed. “Please. I enjoyed it, Braden. Really. But…”
“But?”
Wishing he would leave didn’t magically make him disappear. “Can’t we leave it at this? We had a nice evening—”
“Nice?”
She swallowed. “It was great. Okay?” Lizzie was stumbling all over her words. “Going out, like on a date, is a bad idea.”
Like he had earlier in the day, he folded his arms, making him bigger, more intimidating, and damn it, more appealing, too. Today he wore jeans and a tight T-shirt that showed off his strong arms, making her remember the way he’d captured her and spanked her.
“You want to fuck instead?”
Oh God. “No!” That wasn’t what she meant. He was twisting her words.
“You came for me, multiple times. You slept in my arms the entire night. Now I want to know what happened between last night and this morning?”
Lizzie glanced around to be sure none of the neighbors were watching. She didn’t want to have a scene here, nor did she want to invite him inside. Braden, on the other hand, seemed not to give a damn about anything other than getting the answers he wanted. “Look, not everything needs to be discussed. Let’s agree to be friends. We can pretend it never happened.”
“No fucking way, Lizzie. It happened. I’m taking responsibility for it, and so are you.”
“Agreed.” She gave him a smile so wide and so fake that it hurt her face. “Responsibility taken.” Her voice cracked. “Thank you for a great experience.”
“I’d like an explanation. What did I do that was so wrong?”
Nothing. In fact, he’d done everything right. His behavior was perfect, so perfect that he’d obviously spent years perfecting it.
“Talk to me, Lizzie.” Then he refolded his arms, the gesture a little uncertain, as if he wasn’t certain exactly what to do.
More than anything, that got to her. Maybe if she was honest with him, he’d show her some mercy and not contact her again. “I’m not going to be one of your numerous women, Braden.”
“What the…” His nostrils flared and his biceps bulged, as if he was fighting back anger. “Is that what you think?”
Shocked by his reaction, she blinked.
“You’re fucking making this up.”
“No. And I resent your implication that I’m lying.” Anger made her tone higher, but she wouldn’t slow down to take a breath. Instead, she rushed on. “I’ve seen what happens to the women you’re involved with. You…you fuck them in the back of limousines and then smile for the cameras when you’re caught. I won’t have my name dragged through the muck in the gossip rags. I have to work for a living. I have a job that matters to me, one that I can’t lose. My reputation matters.”
He took a step toward her, but she stood her ground. Convincing herself that she needed to end this was as difficult as convincing him. “More than anyone you should understand that I’m not from your world. Secret societies, scandalous liaisons that don’t have real-world consequences.” Finally she drew that mu
ch-needed gulp of air.
“I don’t date a lot, and I never have casual sex. And I mean that.” Tears built in her eyes, but she refused to spill them. “Last night wasn’t casual to me. And that’s why it can’t happen again. It matters to me. And I’m nothing to you.” Fuck, fuck. Don’t cry. Do not cry.
“You know, Lizzie”—his voice was low, dangerously so—“I’m fucking tired of you insulting me. The other day, you intimated that I would fire your mother because you were in my closet.” He leaned toward her, so close that she could feel the heat that came off him in waves. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. Yeah. You’re right that I’ve made mistakes. A pile of them that I regret. But sleeping with you is not among them. And you’re wrong—so very wrong—if you believe it meant nothing to me.”
She wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t take a risk that he wasn’t being truthful. He knew women. He knew her.
“You mean something to me, Lizzie, and so does the trust you placed in me. I want to take you out…see where this goes, give you a chance to get to know me, not the man you think you know.”
“I’m…” While she still could, she turned away. She fumbled with the lock, and he made no move to help her.
Finally, the tumblers fell into place, and she opened the door.
“Lizzie, please.”
“Goodbye, Braden.” She dashed inside and slammed the door closed. With a flick of her wrist, she slid the deadbolt into place before collapsing against the wall and letting her tears fall in a rush of anguish.
Braden had never allowed himself to get stupid over a woman. He didn’t drown his sorrows, never mourned their leaving.
But this time was different.
This time the woman in question was Lizzie.
And he was no longer on top of his game.
Rafe arrived at the downtown bar near Buffalo Bayou several minutes ahead of Braden. He’d already chained up his bike and removed his helmet when Braden rode up.
“Pull a muscle or something?” Rafe asked.
He ignored the question. He’d poked at Rafe in the past when he was first smitten with Hope. Now that things were different, Braden wasn’t as jovial.