San Francisco: The Complete Trilogy Page 23

  “My sweet, are you crying?”

  “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t call me that. It reminds me of what it was like before and that’s…” Breaking my heart.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “This. Us. It’s not like it was before.”

  “Of course not. I’m training you now.”

  “Then I don’t want to be trained.” Christiana turned to him.

  James’s face was stern and hard. He was so handsome, and in that moment so unapproachable.

  She took a half step back, hating the feelings rolling through her. It was all just too much, from her terrible decision to go with Dino, to what happened in his playroom, to her resolution to find James, to the realization of exactly who he was, to finally seeing him. It had been an insane twenty-four hours, and she had had enough.

  Christiana burst into tears, hating herself for crying. She so rarely cried, yet when she was around James, she couldn’t seem to hold back the tears. Getting upset and crying wasn’t who she was. She was better than that. She was strong and smart.

  Right now, she felt weak and stupid. He was making her feel weak and stupid, and that meant it was time to leave.

  “Christiana, did you hurt yourself?” Now his voice was soft with concern.

  “No,” she snapped, anger rising. “This is all wrong. I’m an idiot.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m leaving. Thank you for… for being willing to try, but that”—she gestured to the spot where she’d knelt to be used as a table—“I won’t do that. If that’s what submitting is, then I don’t want to.”

  “You expected every moment of it to be orgasms and pleasure?” he asked quietly.

  “No. I didn’t. But I expected to feel… not to feel stupid and small.” A sob racked her and she scanned the floor through watery eyes, looking for her shoes.

  “That’s how you felt?”

  She didn’t answer.

  James stepped in front of her, ducking his head slightly to look at her. His gaze was soft and concerned. “You feel small?”

  “This was a mistake, in a series of terrible mistakes. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I don’t want this.”

  “You don’t want to submit, or you don’t want to submit to me?”

  “I guess I don’t want to submit. I thought… I thought it would be like it was at the club.”

  “And what was it like at the club?”

  “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me feel even stupider.”

  “That is not my intention; I’m just trying to understand.”

  She found her shoes, slipping them on. She was naked under the sweater, and if she let go it would flap open, but it was long enough that she’d manage. Where was her phone? She needed her phone at the very least.

  “Christiana, my sweet, please. Talk to me.”

  She lifted her head, brushing at her cheeks with one hand while she held the sweater closed with the other. She faced him head on, and took a deep breath to steady herself. As she did, her feelings crystalized, and she knew what she wanted to ask him.

  “Would you have used me as a table if I was like you?” she asked.

  “Like me?”

  “Rich. Powerful. Or did the fact that you now realize I’m, compared to you, a nobody make you want to treat me like furniture?” Her hand itched with the urge to slap him. “Furniture!” she shouted.

  He leaned away. “It’s just part of training.”

  “Then, like I said, I don’t want to be trained. I’m not a thing, I’m a fucking person.”

  “I am well aware of that.”

  “Are you? Then why would you do that?”

  “Ask a lovely, naked submissive to serve as my table so I can enjoy looking at her naked body while I have a drink?”

  She shook her head, hair whipping around her. “No. No, that’s not it.”

  “I put you on display in the club. Do you remember that?” His voice dropped to a menacing purr. “Standing in the lights, naked for all to see?” He took a step toward her, into her personal space. “You didn’t object to that.”

  “It was different.”

  “Why? How?” he demanded.

  “Is this a test?”

  “No, I’m trying to understand, for both of us.”

  “It just was. Before, I felt… treasured.” She whispered the last word, then immediately wished she could call it back, use something less revealing.

  “And now you feel small.”

  “Yes.” The anger and sadness were both fading, leaving her hollow. “I need to go. Will you help me find my phone?”

  “Christiana.” James lifted his hands, holding them beside her cheeks, but not actually touching her. “Don’t leave.”

  “I need to,” she whispered. “Before I get even more messed up than I already am.”

  “Don’t leave,” he repeated, “because I know how you feel.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t like that anymore than you did.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “I thought that was what you needed, that was the kind of training you should have.”

  They stared at one another.

  “We’re done,” he said softly, “with other people’s expectations.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered. “I don’t know if I can be vulnerable anymore.”

  His gaze slid over her face, moving from feature to feature. “May I kiss you?”

  Say no, you stupid woman. Say no and walk away before you get your heart broken.

  “Yes.”

  He’d made a mess of this, but he could fix it.

  Christiana’s eyes were luminous with tears, and it brought out every protective instinct he had. The fact that he’d been the one to put those tears in her eyes didn’t change his reaction to her sadness.

  He had watched a few women being trained at various events, and attended his share of how-to demonstrations around impact play—he was a responsible Dom and would never use a tool he didn’t know the ins and outs of.

  Yet he’d absolutely fucked this up.

  She was magnificent, and he doubted she knew exactly how compelling she was. And he’d made her feel small. His heart hurt from when she’d asked if he’d used her as a table because she wasn’t “like him.” He wasn’t so naive as to deny classism, but it had never occurred to him to treat her differently because of the balance in her bank account. He’d done what he thought she wanted.

  No, that wasn’t the full truth. He’d done what he thought training should be, and he’d been deliberately stern and aloof. Perhaps, deep down, he’d wanted to punish her for lying to him, which was a terrible dick move on his part.

  She’d suffered enough. They both had. It was time to rediscover what it was that drew him to her.

  When she said yes, he closed the distance between his hands and her face, cupping her cheeks and leaning in to kiss her. He could taste salty tears on her lips. He kept the kiss almost chaste, his lips pressed to hers, softly at first. Then he pulled back to kiss her cheeks, eyelids, and forehead. He wanted to treat her tenderly, to cherish her.

  No, he reminded himself. You only have her for two weeks, then you’ll need to let her go.

  Her reaction made it clear that he’d been right. She needed more than “play partners” or casual weekends of submission at a club. She was the kind of woman who needed to be cherished and collared.

  Luckily you have two very nice collars in your bag, a voice inside his head insisted.

  And then what? Then you collar her and after a few months when you get bored you leave her? She deserved more than that.

  Her arms slid around his waist and her sweater opened. She leaned into him, her bare breasts brushing against his chest. He felt her nipples harden into small, tight points, and the gentle feelings faded to be replaced by desire.

  He slid his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head, and deepened the kiss. She opened unde
r him, welcoming his tongue into her mouth. He explored her, tasted her, and then nipped her lower lip.

  “Naked,” he panted against her cheek. “I want you naked.”

  She shed the sweater without hesitation.

  “Arms up, behind your head.”

  She watched him with a hot, needy gaze as she obeyed, her sweet breasts begging for his touch. He was more than happy to oblige. He cupped and kneaded them, thumbing the nipples.

  “You’ll tell me if you start to feel small or sad,” he demanded.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “How do you feel right now?” he asked.

  “Want you,” she panted, “so much.”

  “Good. That’s how you should feel.” He pinched her nipples, pulling until she lifted onto her toes. “You make me want to do wicked things to you,” he told her.

  “I want you to do wicked things to me.”

  “On your knees.”

  This time she hesitated a moment, looking at him from beneath her lashes. He needed to rewrite what had just happened, to help her associate submission and obeying orders with good things rather than negative feelings. The easiest way to do that would be to have her come in each position, but that wasn’t really submission.

  He knew she could find subspace, and he was also sure he could help her find it again without taking the easy path of repeated orgasms.

  When she continued to hesitate, he reached out and flicked her nipple. “Do you want to be punished?”

  That was a risky question; it might pull her out of the moment.

  She fought a smile, but he could see the corners of her mouth twitching. “That depends on the punishment, Sir.”

  Yes, yes. This feels right. This is what you’ve been missing.

  “On your knees, my sweet. I want my cock in that pretty mouth.”

  She knelt, without hesitation this time.

  “Unfasten my pants.”

  She fumbled a little with his belt, and was none too gentle, yanking down his pants and boxers in a move that lacked grace but spoke volumes about her enthusiasm. His cock sprang free, not quite fully hard. She reached for him, but he blocked her hands.

  “Ah, ah, ah. Mouth only.”

  She looked up at him, then at his cock. James unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, not wanting the tails to detract from his view.

  She leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock slowly. Every sensitive nerve ending hummed with pleasure, and he hardened. She did it again, carefully wetting the head of his cock, then licking the side of his dick from head to base before shifting to the other side and repeating the motion.

  “Are you teasing me?” he asked in a low rumble.

  Christiana looked up at him, then carefully took the head of his cock in her mouth before nodding, his cock bobbing up and down as she did so.

  “Naughty girl. You’ll get a spanking for this.”

  She froze, eyes round with a hint of real fear.

  He raised a brow. “Oh, not on your poor ass. But there are plenty of other places I can spank.”

  She blinked, then blinked again.

  James grinned down at her, and slid his hands into her hair. “Relax,” he commanded. “I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

  He slid in, that first rush of heat and warmth surrounding him. Driving him closer to orgasm than it should have. When he bumped the back of her throat, he felt her swallow, and when he went deeper still, he felt her gag. He pulled back, letting her adjust, then thrust in again.

  He went slowly for the first ten thrusts, then sped up, fucking her mouth in earnest. She clutched his hips and he released her hair with one hand, using that hand to grab her arms, forcing her to stack her hands on top of her head. When they were both in place, he wrapped his hand over her fingers, squeezing. He felt her shiver, and this time when he thrust in, he was able to go deeper before she gagged. The bondage, even if it was only the presence of his hands holding her, helped her submit. He made a mental note to get some rope, cuffs, scarves… anything he could use to tie her up or down.

  He was nearing his own orgasm, his cock twitching, his breathing coming fast. He wrapped his hand more securely in her hair, tightening enough so she’d feel the pull, and then thrust in once, twice, and a third time.

  He shouted as he came, pulling out at the last moment, his come splattering in thick white ribbons across her breasts.

  They were both panting, and as he released her, she licked her lips. “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Horny,” she whispered. She looked down at her chest, then back up at him. “Why did you pull out?”

  “Because it’s the polite thing to do, unless swallowing has been prearranged.”

  He went to the bathroom under the stairs, returning with his pants fastened and a hand towel. He knelt and used the corner he’d run under the tap to wipe her breasts clean, then switched to the dry end to wipe her breasts once more, this time rubbing the terrycloth on her nipples so she moaned and arched into him. Casting the towel aside, he helped her rise.

  “That’s where we’ll start,” he said when they were both standing.

  She inquisitively tipped her head. “We haven’t started?”

  He chuckled, then kissed her forehead. There was no reason he needed to do that. He just wanted to kiss her. “We’re going to do a checklist. And then we’re going to negotiate a scene.”

  Chapter 6

  “Comfortable?” James asked casually.

  Christiana pursed her lips, looked down at herself, and then back at him. “Oh yes, extremely. And warm, too.”

  He’d turned on the gas fireplace in the small parlor near the back of the house, and positioned her in front of it. She was deliciously naked, except for some rope. He’d created a belt and cuffs out of black nylon with a foot of rope connecting each wrist restraint back to the belt. It was a modified upper-body hobble, almost like the chains some prisoners wore, except much sexier. She was resting on a pillow on the floor before the fire, reclining on her side propped up on one elbow, arm angled so her wrist was near her waist.

  He glanced at the papers he’d printed out. Luckily the well-equipped house had a small business center, so he’d been able to make two copies each of both a BDSM checklist and a contract.

  He planned to start with the checklist.

  James took a sip from the glass of champagne he’d poured and raised a brow. She twisted forward to pick up her own glass that was sitting on the floor in front of the pillow. She had to duck her head and hold the flute near the bottom of the stem, but she was able to take a sip. After carefully setting the glass down, she pursed her lips once more.

  “Did you do this so you could watch me fumble?” She wiggled the arm not supporting her, tugging on the short length of rope that bound her wrist to her waist.

  “No, I did it so that even though I’m not touching you at the moment, you would be able to feel me. To feel my control.”

  Her lids lowered and she made a soft humming noise.

  The firelight added hints of umber to her dark hair, and painted her lovely naked skin with golden highlights. The curve of her hip was particularly inviting looking. Her pussy was no longer waxed smooth, but had a soft pelt of neatly trimmed short hair, which looked very pettable.

  If he didn’t stop staring and start talking, they weren’t going to get through the checklist. He’d end up with his face buried between those lovely thighs, tasting that pussy.

  He picked up one of the checklists he’d printed and stapled, then rose and handed it to her. One of the reasons he’d left as much slack in the rope as he had was so she’d be able to hold the paper up in a position to comfortably read.

  He resumed his seat. “This is a checklist. My checklist, in fact.”

  “Your checklist?”

  “It’s one I’ve modified somewhat and use when I need to.”

  “When you need to?”

  “As you well know, I don’t always pre-negotiate my scenes this formally.” He he
ld up his own copy. “Sometimes it’s more… organic.”

  She looked at the first page. “I’ve read about these, but the one I saw was actually more for leather daddies.”

  “Given where you live, that’s understandable. San Francisco’s kink scene is unrivaled for things like that. This one is geared specially for heterosexual, male-dominant play. The checklist is often underutilized. There’s a private club in Los Angeles, Las Palmas Obscuras, that has a checklist game.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “A game?”

  “Everyone in the club was assigned a partner or two and a letter. They have to try everything on the list that starts with that letter.”

  “Oh.” She glanced down at the paper, flipping to the second page. “Ohhhhhh.”

  “Precisely.”

  “I’m going to need a pen, and some more slack, if I’m going to fill this out.”

  “We’re going to fill it out together.” He picked up a pen from the table and removed the cap. “We’ll also discuss each item.”

  “Talk about them… out loud?”

  James leaned forward, peering at her face. Because of the fire, she was slightly backlit. “Are you blushing?”

  “Maybe…”

  “You are delightful, Christiana.”

  “You are a pervert, James.”

  James burst into full, genuine laughter. He felt almost content sitting with her now, talking and enjoying one another’s company. She was, thanks to her lack of clothing and the ropes, still undeniably submitting, yet this felt so much better than when he’d tried to push the issue of positions and used her as a table. He’d known women who loved that, but not Christiana. No, she wasn’t meant to be silent and still. She was meant to be teased and played with and talked to.

  “First item,” he said when his laughter died down. “Abrasion.”

  “I don’t even know what that means,” she said quickly. “So, put me down as a ‘no’ for that one.”

  “Yes, you do—I mentioned it.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, though you may have been slightly distracted at the time. We’ll mark this one as a yes.”

  “I thought I was supposed to be telling you what I want.”