Her knees held up nicely all the way to Master’s—no, Raoul’s—bedroom. She bundled together the clothing Gabi had given her and left the French maid’s costume in the closet for him to return to Z. After tossing everything on the bed in the guest room, she went back for her toiletries.
She turned her eyes away from the shower, refusing to remember how his big hands felt moving over her soap-slicked body. Warm and firm. No. One more week; then it was over. She’d go home and…do what? Aside from wanting to see her mom, she’d never thought about after that.
Her knees went weak, and she leaned on the counter, staring at herself in the mirror. I should want to go home. To take up my life again. Her friends would be overjoyed at her return.
Had her position at the marine lab been filled? Probably not—admin moved slowly. She’d go see them first thing and… A chill ran through her. What if she stepped out of the office or her house and…they took her again? I have to go back to work. No choice. She’d manage. She always did.
But she’d be so far from Tampa. How could she stand each day without Master R in it?
Her hands clenched. Getting a little dependent, missy? Or a little in love? Her inner cynic was so sarcastic that if it’d been a person, she’d have slapped its face. Because the answer to both questions was yes.
He…lifted her heart. She wanted to take care of him, put that special smile on his face, be there for him the way he’d been here for her. And why not? He obviously cared for her. He did.
Only…he hadn’t exactly said “I love you” back to her.
Even if he did, they had differing goals. He was a master, and eventually he’d want a real slave, not a pretender. Cold seeped like a chill morning fog into her bones.
I’m not a slave. That wasn’t the relationship she’d dreamed of—to kneel at a man’s feet, to take his orders, to serve him. She hauled in a shuddering breath. I don’t belong here. Not really.
She needed to not pine after something that would never work. They’d be friends like she said.
After she finished moving her stuff, she went back downstairs. Master R—Raoul, dammit—was still in the kitchen, making notes on a legal pad. Why did he have to be so…so wonderful? The broad shoulders, the strong hands, the stern jaw. Why wasn’t life fair?
He looked up, and his smile faded as he got a I-can-see-right-down-to-your-secrets expression on his face. “Gatita, what is wrong?”
She shrugged. “Leftover nerves, I think.” She rubbed at a smear on the floor with her shoe and asked casually, “Do we have any plans for this week?”
“Only one. To keep you safe until you go home.”
Go home. How strange he’d mention that after she’d been thinking about it. Go home to what?
“For today, I thought we’d celebrate surviving our evening with the Overseer. I keep a sailboat at a marina nearby, and we can pick up a picnic lunch.”
Be on the water again and be with Master R? Could anything be better? “Oh, yes. Please.”
“Good enough. After I change, we’ll head out. Meantime, can you get my toy bag out of the car?” He tossed his keys to her. “I don’t like driving around with it…just in case of an accident or police. The car’s parked in front.”
She managed to stifle the yes, Master and said, “Sure, I’ll get it.” Why hadn’t he parked in the garage last night? Because he’d had to carry her upstairs. Duh. And the garage was on the opposite side of the house.
As she crossed the great room, Master R started up the stairs.
She stopped. Wait. Go outside? By myself? “Um. I’ll… I’m not sure I know what your bag looks like.” Her chest felt as if someone was wrapping ropes around her ribs and kept drawing them tighter.
He leaned one hip against the stair railing. “It’s the only bag in the car.”
“But—”
“Get the bag, gatita.”
She didn’t move.
His eyes narrowed, and then he came back down the stairs.
She relaxed. “You’re going to escort me to your car?”
“No, I don’t think so.” His hand closed around her upper arm. He led her to the front and pushed her out the door.
She stood, stunned at his actions. Stood and stared down the curving drive. She could see the street—the street where anyone might wait. Where someone could shoot her and hurt her and cage her. “No!” No no no. She spun around and plowed into an immovable body.
He blocked the doorway, the light framing him, a dark angel. “Kimberly.”
“No. No, I won’t.” She was trembling so violently that her knees buckled.
His arms closed around her, and he held her firmly. “Take a slow breath, gatita. Now.”
She was cold, so cold. That was why she was shaking. Her fingers had even gone numb.
“Another breath. Let it out slowly.” He made her take a few more.
Her heart slowed. And she realized she’d just had another damned panic attack for whatever reason.
“Now look at me.”
The order couldn’t be refused. She lifted her gaze to his intense dark brown eyes. His expression seemed strange. Concern and anger and…pity?
How the hell dare he pity me? She straightened in his arms and took a terrifying step away. “I’m just stressed from yesterday. Sorry.”
“Then perhaps you should try again?”
No!
But he held his hand out, and she set her fingers in his.
He walked to the car, and she was all right. Yes, she was fine.
He released her hand. “Stay here for a moment, gatita.”
When he started toward the house, somehow she was beside him, so close she was almost crawling into his clothes.
“Hmm.” Without speaking further, he led her through the house, out the back onto the patio. He stopped by the pool, watching her closely. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to figure out why she was still shaking and why she couldn’t go outside. She’d been outside before.
He pointed to the beach ball on the other side of the pool. “Bring me that.” No problem. She’d only gone halfway when he called her back.
“You’re afraid of being outside—on the street side—by yourself?”
“I-I—” She pulled in a breath of salt air, turned away from him. The waves rolled onto the shore; clouds puffed high in the sky. Normal world. Abnormal Kim. Her voice came out so tiny, he leaned forward to hear her. “When I went out to the front, I just knew they were there. They’d take me back. It’s not safe outside.” Everything inside told her that was truth.
“The patio is all right though? And the beach?” he asked softly, still holding her hand.
“I…guess so. It’s got a fence. An ocean. No vehicles. They can’t get me there.” She blew a lock of hair away from her face. “It sounds stupid.”
“Kimberly, where did they kidnap you?”
She remembered all too well. Every month, she’d drive from Savannah to Atlanta to spend the day with her mom. Then she’d spend the evening at the BDSM club. The highlight of her month. “Outside a club. When I reached for the handle of my car, I—I… The man Tasered me.” Horrible pain, every muscle spasming, convulsing, screaming silently in agony. “They tossed me into a van.”
He stroked her hair. “Now you figured out why you panic, does it help?”
“A little.” Yet the thought of walking out a door again made her whole body tense in dread. She straightened her spine. “Try again?”
“Brave gatita.” Hand on her arm, he led her to the front door as if she were a blind woman. “Let’s see how far you can get.”
She forced her feet to step outside. A long drive. The street. Something squeezed her chest, and black wavered like ghosts around the edges of her vision.
“Kimberly!” The command in his voice was as effective as a vicious slap.
She jolted and looked over her shoulder.
“I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Fury came from him in waves, but it
wasn’t directed at her. “Take three steps. Then we’ll go back in the house. Can you do that?”
She shook her head. Too far.
“Kimberly.” He met her eyes, raised his chin. “Do it—for me.”
For Master R. Her need to please warred with the fear. She eyed all the open space where she’d be exposed, the places someone could hide, and something tiny inside her quailed. Yet she took a step. Another. Her courage failed. She could only stand and shake.
“One more, gatita.”
Her air was gone, and red streaked the lawn as she pushed a foot forward. One more.
“Good. Eyes on me.” He was in front of her so quickly, she realized he’d been right behind her for each step. His face blocked the dangerous open lawn. “I’m very proud of you, Kimberly.”
His praise released the last few bands around her chest, and she hauled in a breath.
“Next time you’ll go four steps. In the meantime”—he held his hand out for hers—“we’ll get my toy bag out of the car. Together.”
* * * *
Three days of being friends wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. With a silent sigh, Kim watched the morning sun move across the bedroom carpet, her hand over the wide palm cupping her breast. Contentment was being held in Master R’s arms.
But…she wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t crawled into his bed in the middle of the night.
He’d made love to her. She grinned. She’d kinda started the process when she’d sneaked under the covers, run her hands up his thighs, and fondled his cock to hardness. At first, she’d thought he was asleep, but after a few minutes, she realized he’d been awake all along, waiting to discover how far she’d go.
Far . Giggling, she’d climbed on top of him, and it had been fun. He’d kissed her and stroked her. Sucked her nipples. But he hadn’t taken control, hadn’t demanded anything from her. His hands had been gentle, not firm. They’d both gotten off, but… She sighed. The sex hadn’t been exciting at all. Kind of like piloting a motorboat instead of sailing in a strong wind. You’d get to your destination with the one; the other was sheer exhilaration.
I want that kind of sex back.
Master R was still asleep, one arm over her, spooned around her from behind. His morning erection pressed against her bottom. So…
They could have boring, we’re-just-friends sex, but she wanted more. How far could a girl push a master before he lost his temper?
He didn’t get angry easily. She bit her lip, unease quivering her nerves, and then rolled out of his arms. “No!” she snapped as his eyes opened. “No sex. You can’t make me, and I don’t want it.”
When his darkly tanned face turned stern, her stomach spawned wiggly minnows. But then he relaxed. “No, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want, Kimberly.” He put his hands behind his head, although his muscles were tight. “Go shower. I’ll stay out of your way.”
Dammit. After flipping her braid away, she poked his shoulder forcefully enough to hurt her finger. “You don’t tell me what to do, Ra-oool. I’m not your property anymore.” She’d expected the blaze in his eyes; she hadn’t anticipated her regret at verbalizing the fact. I’m not his. She poked him harder to make the sense of loss go away.
He grabbed her hand, preventing more abuse, and sat up. “That’s enough. Get out of the bed before I lose my patience with your rudeness.” His voice had lowered, and excitement shimmered deep inside her.
She felt her nipples bunching into peaks, saw his gaze drop to her breasts, and her anticipation increased at the flare of heat in his eyes. “Stop bossing me around.” She planted herself deliberately, kneeling with her butt on her feet. “I’m not going to do anything you say. Ever. Even if you beg me.”
“And what if you beg me?” he asked softly, the increasing Spanish accent an obvious clue to his temper. “If you stay in this bed, I will take you, Kimberly, the way I want, as rough as I want, unless you scream your safe word.”
His dark voice flipped a switch inside her, and she was suddenly very wet, her clit throbbing as if he’d stroked it with his tongue rather than his words.
But her mouth had gone dry at the threat in his voice. He would… He could hurt her. Only, she wanted that. Kind of. She took a breath. Besides, backing down would make her a coward. “Take me, Ra-oool? Pfft. You’re all talk and no—”
He grabbed her. She squeaked as he flattened her on her belly, her face on the mattress inches from the ornate ironwork of the headboard. She felt a pull on her hair. Tugging.
“That should keep you out of trouble.” He yanked her up, onto her hands and knees.
It was going too fast. Unable to help herself, she attempted to rear up and…couldn’t. She tried to lift her head, but her braid was caught on something. She stared at the mattress, three inches from her nose, and fumbled at the headboard, trying to find what he’d hooked her braid on.
His ruthless hands closed on her wrists and secured them one-handed at the hollow of her back.
“Damn you!” She struggled, totally helpless, her head caught, her hands caught. He shoved his knees between her legs, pushing her legs apart, exposing her. With his free hand, he explored her intimately and hummed in interest. “You’re puffy, gatita. And very wet.”
His fingers moved over her clit, so very assured, touching her in the way he knew turned her on. Although she kept fighting, the more she fought, the more her need grew. His chuckle showed he realized exactly what was going on—and his ability to read her so easily increased her arousal as well. Dammit.
He positioned his cock at her entrance and swirled it in her wetness. His grip on her wrists tightened, warning her. He plunged into her, all the way to the hilt.
Her body froze in shock, and she gasped as her pussy strained to accommodate the invasion. Yes, yes, yes. Pushing her forehead onto the mattress, she let him take her over.
He did. He took her, roughly as he’d promised, slamming into her, thick and hard and uncomfortably long.
Not satisfied, he released her hands and gripped her hips, angling her for greater penetration until he nudged her womb with every thrust. Yet the roughness and discomfort increased her arousal, pushing her toward climax in a way she’d never felt before. He wasn’t touching her clit, the stimulation only from his rigid erection. Everything inside her started to tighten, her entire lower half a fiery ball of nerves.
As he yanked her back onto his cock, over and over, her braid pulled at her scalp, reminding her she was restrained. Her hands fisted the covers as the pressure inside her grew. The air thickened until she cried out with each stroke, each demanding thrust wonderful, perfect, keeping her teetering right at the top.
And then he moved differently, his shaft circling her entrance, making her folds tug on her clit. The fire inside contracted into a whirlpool, blasting a tsunami of sheer sensation over her sea walls, flattening everything in front of it until an ocean of pleasure streamed to every far nerve. The room echoed back her scream, then her gasps for air.
He somehow hardened, thickened even more. Short, brutal thrusts sent more waves through her, and then he pressed, deep, deep, and the spasms of his cock made her insides clench over and over around him
His grip on her hips released—she’d have bruises there tomorrow, and she didn’t mind in the least. No—she gloried in the thought of his marks on her. Every nerve in her body was singing, and satisfaction flowed with each beat of her pulse. And happiness. More than from her climax, but caused by the feel of his hands, demanding, controlling, merciless. Dammit, why?
She’d been dominated before; he gave her…more. Or she surrendered more. Anxiety rippled through her. How much would she surrender to him?
He ran his hands down her sides in long strokes, reached under to fondle her breasts, and chuckled when her vagina spasmed around him. When he finally pulled out, she moaned at the loss. Without speaking, he flattened her on the bed again to unhook her braid, then rolled her onto her back like a puppy.
Throat exp
osed, belly up. At his mercy. Her anxiety increased as she realized annoyance still tightened his jaw.
“Is this what they call friends with benefits?” he asked, holding her chin.
She felt her face heat and closed her eyes.
“Look at me,” he growled.
Her gaze met his, and she couldn’t escape from the anger in his eyes. She swallowed.
“If you wish rough sex or D/s sex, then tell me. I took you hard this time, so we could both discover your response.” His gaze softened, his thumb stroking over her lower lip. “There’s no question as to how you respond. You think about it and what you want.”
He swung off the bed and turned, his expression dangerous. “And then you will talk to me honestly and openly.”
Dammit.
* * * *
That afternoon, Raoul pushed back from his desk, rubbing his exhausted eyes. If he was going to continue designing at home, he needed a bigger screen.
On the left, Kimberly worked her way through the stacks of filing he’d accumulated. He hated paperwork. Normally, he’d summon his secretary to do the tedious business. But for now, it kept Kimberly occupied.
My friend, Kimberly. Smiling slightly, he watched her examine a paper and put it into a folder. Even lacking any power exchange, he liked having her in his house.
After she’d crawled into his bed last night, he’d discovered he still enjoyed making love to her. Then again, he was a man. Was fucking ever bad? Yes, the normal sex with Kimberly had been pleasant, although lacking any rich flavor or bite, as if someone had made tacos without adding cayenne or cumin.
She’d also felt the lack. He grinned, remembering how she’d goaded him, trying to make him lose his temper. He hadn’t—barely—although he’d given her the roughness and control that she needed. She’d come like a dream.
He shook his head. It was amazing she tolerated sex at all after her experiences, let alone with a man dominating her. Would she admit she wanted his control in the bedroom? Could she be that honest with herself—and him?
For a minute, he simply studied her. Pretty gatita, her black, shiny hair loose over her shoulders, her curvy ass filling her shorts nicely, reminding him of the feel of her soft hips under his hands. His eyes narrowed as he looked more intently.