San Francisco Love: San Francisco Trilogy: Part Three Page 9

  Christiana came, swallowing around James’s cock as she did. Her body, trapped in the ropes, tensed, her nails digging into her thighs. She fought the urge to clench her jaw as pleasure stroked her, and instead frantically rubbed her tongue against his cock.

  James cursed and then pulled back enough so she could breathe, but the moment was short-lived. “I’m coming,” he warned her. His come hit her tongue, his hand tight on the back of her neck. The feel of him coming in her mouth, his momentary loss of control, triggered another orgasm for her.

  “Stop,” James commanded. He was panting.

  The hands and mouths touching her disappeared. James pulled from her mouth and Christiana let her head fall back. A sob shook her, and there were tears in her eyes.

  James knelt beside her, cradling her. She heard him ordering people to lower her, bring him a knife. Slowly she dropped down onto the mat and into James’s arms. The ropes were cut away, the spreader bar released. Her whole body ached. She cried out when the hook was removed, the large ball forcing her anus open. Her clit felt swollen to twice its normal size and so sensitive that when she closed her legs, the pressure of her labia against it made her whimper.

  James whispered sweet words to her, telling her she was beautiful, that she’d done a good job, that he was proud of her. She could taste him on her tongue, smell him as she buried her face against his bare chest.

  James lifted her into his arms, and she was too tired to object, to say she was too heavy or that she could walk herself. He carried her out of the dungeon, putting her down only when they reached the steps up to their room, murmuring that it wasn’t safe for him to carry her up.

  Christiana huddled against his side as they mounted the stairs together. He helped her lay on the bed, then cleaned her with a soft cloth, gently wiping her pussy and ass. The gold suns still decorated her breasts, but he left them, climbing into bed behind her and pulling the covers over them.

  Christiana drifted, unable to sleep. She was weary, so weary, but she needed…something.

  Him, she needed him.

  “James?” she whispered.

  “Yes, my sweet?”

  “I need you.”

  James didn’t ask what she meant. He knew. He rolled her onto her back, slid between her legs, and in the next breath he was inside her. Christiana closed her eyes in relief. The orgasm came easily, the press of his pubic bone on her sensitive clit more than enough to bring her to climax. He panted against her shoulder as he thrust in, pressing hard and deep each time. Then he came too, her name on his lips as he trembled above her.

  Christiana’s eyes fluttered closed, and she fell asleep with James still inside her.

  Chapter 7

  They left the next day. This time they traveled by boat—a long-range speedboat. Christiana and James sat on the single bench seat with two other people while Solomon drove. One of the other passengers was the woman who had sucked her nipples the first night, the other a man Christiana didn’t remember meeting. She had no way of knowing if he’d been one of the people to touch her last night. Had he sucked her clit, her nipples? Did this stranger know her intimately?

  The sun was shining brilliantly, hitting the water with blinding brilliance. Warm salt spray was flung into the sky by the powerful boat, which dashed over the waves, occasionally catching air.

  Christiana had taken a dose of seasickness tablets before they left, just in case, and at first she blamed her mood on those. The warning on the box had said may cause drowsiness. But she wasn’t drowsy—she was anxious.

  Maybe it was the pills.

  She hoped it was the pills.

  Last night had been the most intense sexual experience of her life, both the rope suspension turned orgy and the sweet vanilla sex they’d had afterward. She’d woken up wanting more—more kink, more bondage, more sex.

  When James said they were leaving today, she’d been not just disappointed but distressed. James had noticed and assured her that once they got back to San Francisco, he would do many more wicked things to her.

  Imagining what those things might be kept her mind busy as they had a lazy lunch in their room and then took a trip to the beach before heading back to shower and pack. She’d been applying mascara in the bathroom mirror when the first notes of anxiety hit her. That seed of worry she’d been working to ignore had stubbornly refused to be dismissed.

  The feeling had grown since then, and now, out here in the middle of the ocean with only the sea and sky and light, the sound of the motor too loud to allow for talking, she had time to think.

  As Great Exuma came into sight, her feelings crystalized into tangible thoughts.

  She could lose herself in this strange, unfamiliar reality. She could become someone else. All she had to do was let herself sink into this life, this world. His world.

  That was why she’d started feeling anxious after looking in the mirror. The woman she’d seen looking back was a stranger. Her hair had fallen around her face in beach and sex-tousled waves. Her lips were fuller than normal, swollen from kisses. She’d been wearing the golden nipple jewelry. She’d asked James if she could keep it on, liking the way it drew attention to her breasts.

  The woman in the mirror was someone sensual and sexy. A woman whose only focus was pleasure, both her own and her Master’s.

  The stranger she had become could easily give in to the pleasure and ease of being James’s submissive, abandoning all the things that had once been important to her. Become his plaything and nothing more. She could love him, submit to him, lose herself in him.

  And then he’d leave, and she’d be a devastated mess. Not just heartbroken, but broken.

  Christiana closed her eyes behind the large, dark sunglasses James had handed her when they got on the boat. She no longer knew what day it was, but their two weeks had to be almost up. It was time to start distancing herself from him.

  She sat with that as they neared the island. She told herself to stop looking at him every other second, to stop reacting with a little thrill when he touched her.

  He took her hand to help her onto the dock and her fingers curled into his, clinging despite her resolution to stop doing exactly that.

  When they climbed into the waiting car and he pulled her against his side, she laid her head on his shoulder, relaxing into his embrace even as she told herself to sit up straight.

  When they walked arm in arm to the waiting plane and his fingers brushed her nipple through her shirt, she moaned quietly, batting at him when he grinned, instead of hiding her reaction to his touch.

  And when they took their seats, James waiting for the air hostess to leave before leaning over and asking Christiana if she was okay, if she needed anything, she told her stupid, stupid heart not to love him so much.

  The plane climbed into the sky, and she looked out the window, at the islands and sparkling blue water.

  “You enjoyed yourself?” James handed her the flute of champagne he’d gone to fetch. He’d asked the attendant for privacy.

  “Yes. Thank you. For all of it.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  She looked at him, wondering what he was thinking. James settled back in his seat, then reached into his pocket and pulled out her collar. He’d taken it off for the boat ride since the saltwater might have damaged it. She held her breath, but he only placed it on the arm of his chair.

  They sat in silence, dread growing in Christiana with each minute that passed.

  She shouldn’t be this worried. There was a built-in expiration to their time together. She wouldn’t lose herself to him and his world, because as soon as the two weeks were up he’d leave. She’d become herself again. Not the same self she’d been, but her time with Dino proved that this overwhelming need and willingness to submit was dependent on who she was submitting to. Without James the risk of losing herself was gone.

  She wouldn’t lose herself.

  She was going to lose him.

  Then fight for him.

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nbsp; She frowned down at her hands. She’d had to fight for her education, her career, defying expectations, and a system rigged against her to get where she was now.

  She was no stranger to a fight, but knowing when to fight was more important than having the will to go to battle.

  The question was, if she fought for James—for their relationship—did she risk losing herself? Did she risk becoming James’s submissive to the exclusion of all else?

  She looked at James. He was watching her. He raised a brow in question.

  She needed to think about this logically. She loved James. James was only with her because he was training her to be a submissive. She didn’t want to be his submissive.

  No, that wasn’t it—she wanted to be his submissive. She didn’t want to be only his submissive. She was scared of losing herself.

  Therefore, in order to keep her sense of self and the man she loved, she would have to be more to him than a sex partner.

  She worked through that logic a second time, examining it in her mind’s eye as if it were a structure, checking to see if the foundations of her idea were strong enough to support the weight of her emotions.

  Once she was sure of it, she set her mind to the solution, an outcome that would satisfy all the variables and meet all needs.

  Date. They needed to date.

  Also, he needed to love her back. That was a second-level task. Best to focus on the dating.

  You’re going to make a billionaire prince fall in love with you?

  She ignored that thought. She was going to fight for what she wanted, and she wanted James—as a Master, as a lover, and as a friend.

  Date. She needed to ask him out on a date.

  “When we get back…” She had to stop and lick her dry lips. “Would you like to go out to eat?”

  He tipped his head in question. “Instead of eating on the plane?”

  No, I mean like on a date. The words were there, but she chickened out and nodded instead. She’d work up to actually saying the word date.

  “Of course,” he said with a smile.

  They would go out to eat, like normal people. Their relationship didn’t have to be just about sex, or BDSM. It could be, would be, about more. It had been more—they’d been essentially living together before they left for Solomon’s. For a week she’d been Chris during the day and Christiana, James’s “my sweet” at night. They could do it.

  The anxiety that had gripped her since she looked in the mirror started to ease.

  Next time she asked him out, she’d make it clear it was a date.

  “How about Chinese?” she asked.

  James considered, then said, “Do you know any good Indian places?”

  “I do. It’s a hole in the wall, not really fancy enough for a prince.”

  “A hole in the wall implies it has a roof. That’s a step above the last place you took me.”

  Christiana smiled and joy filled her, as effervescent as the bubbles in her champagne. They were having a totally normal conversation—a conversation even the most conservative of non-kinky people might have.

  A normal couple conversation.

  They’d had vanilla sex, too. Admittedly, it had been after some intense, kinky stuff, but they’d had missionary-style sex. That meant something. It meant she wasn’t just his plaything, his sub. There was hope for her plan.

  She hid her smile behind her glass.

  “We’ll be landing in Atlanta soon,” the attendant informed them over the speaker.

  That meant they were one step closer to San Francisco. Good. She couldn’t wait for their date.

  James couldn’t wait for this damned plane to land. This had to be one of the longest rides of his life. Objectively, he knew that wasn’t true. The flight from Atlanta to California was shorter than many of the transcontinental trips he took.

  But he couldn’t wait for them to land so he could show Christiana the house.

  So he could offer her the collar.

  He’d considered placing the leather one back on her once they were off the boat, but it seemed coarse compared to what he wanted to place around that lovely neck. Plus it had gotten sweaty and stiff after their incredible evening.

  If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget standing there, his cock deep in her mouth, her lovely body helpless and bound, men and women alike touching and toying with her at his command.

  “James?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, my sweet?”

  She’d curled up in the seat, but now stretched out. “Can I…can I take off the suns?”

  No. Some primal part of him liked knowing that she was wearing jewelry he’d placed on her. Like knowing that her nipples were sensitive and probably hard, rubbing against her bra and reminding her of who she belonged to.

  The more reasonable part of him won control of his mouth, and he said, “Of course.” He motioned her over. “But I’ll take them off.”

  He was a reasonable man, not a monk.

  Christiana slid onto his lap. He raised her shirt and tugged down her bra. She sighed and laid her cheek against his head. The glue was mostly gone, so he took a moment and indulged himself, toying with her nipples gently, just to remind them both that he could, and would, touch her whenever and however it pleased him.

  When her breathing was a bit faster than it had been, he finally peeled the suns away, laying them on the arm of his chair. He pulled her bra up and shirt down.

  “You’re just going to get me riled up and leave me like this?” she asked.

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Diabolical man.” She slid off his lap and went to lie on the couch, her eyes closing.

  He was already planning their next scene—something for tonight and tomorrow. After that he had to leave. He’d been working only part-time for too long, and needed to be back in London for at least a week. Then he’d come back to San Francisco to get her and they’d head for the next Orchid Club event.

  Christiana snoozed for the rest of their second flight, and he forced himself to get some work done.

  The plane landed at the small private airstrip outside the city. Christiana looked tired despite the nap, which made sense since they hadn’t gotten much sleep while they’d been away. They’d been traveling against the time change, so it was only late afternoon in California when they touched down.

  Christiana leaned into him as they walked away from the plane to the waiting car. He remembered her request that they go out to eat, but dismissed that idea. They’d go to the house and order in once they were there. She didn’t ask where they were going—she probably thought they were going back to the executive lease property.

  He couldn’t wait to see her reaction when he showed her the house he’d bought and had redecorated to be their play space, then offered her his collar.

  Christiana stared up at the lovely Victorian. “You really bought it?” she asked.

  “Yes, come on.” James was grinning like a little kid as he urged her up the steps.

  “Wait, how did you already buy it? It takes forever to buy real estate.”

  He snorted, a strangely inelegant sound coming from him. “Who told you that?”

  “Ah, I forgot, rules don’t apply to princes.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “They don’t apply to rich people?”

  “That’s more accurate. Cash transactions are considerably quicker, and I requested a one-day close so it would be ready for us when we got back.”

  Ready…for us?

  Christiana’s heart leapt. Maybe this would be easier than she’d thought. Maybe James wanted the same things she did. She’d have to establish some ground rules so she didn’t get lost in his world but she could handle that.

  The door had a lockbox dangling from the knob. He punched in a code, the box opened, and he took out two keys. He fitted one into the lock, then opened the door.

  “Not only did I buy it,” he said, “but I had it redecorated.”

  Christiana sl
id inside. It was dusk, and dim enough she could only see shadows. She ran her hand over the wall until she found a switch and flicked it on. “I thought the description said it came with a lot of the furniture.”

  “It did, but—”

  She whirled. “James, if you had all that lovely stuff thrown away, I will murder you.”

  His eyes widened. “I didn’t, I promise.” He held his hands up. “I forgot you can be…passionate about buildings. A bit odd, since I believe your job is to tell people how to destroy them?”

  She ignored that, turning to look around.

  It was her dream house.

  Actually, until this moment she hadn’t had a dream house. Honestly she hadn’t ever thought to have a house, not in the Bay Area. The best she’d hoped for was a condo, and she’d been saving up for a down payment on that.

  But this…this was her dream house. Inside was all warm wood and white-and-cream striped wallpaper. There was stained glass above the door, and it cast red, yellow, and green light onto the stairs. She peeked into the small parlor on the left. The bay window had a seat and a lovely view of the onion-domed church across the street. There was a baby grand piano, a low simple-yet-not-too-modern couch, and a spindly-legged writing desk.

  “It’s amazing,” she whispered.

  “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.” James took her hand, tugging her toward the stairs.

  “We haven’t seen the rest of this floor,” she protested.

  “I find myself impatient,” he said. “I want to show you what I had done.”

  He seemed almost giddy with anticipation. His mood infected her, and she pounded up two flights of stairs, her hand in his. They reached the top floor, and James had to stoop slightly given the angle of the roof.

  “Ready?” He had one hand on the knob of the single door at the top of the stairs.

  “Yes.”

  He opened the door and pulled her inside.

  The room was large, taking up the whole footprint of the house. It had once been an attic, but was now finished, with the same warm hardwood floors as on the levels below. The stairs let them out near a round stained glass window in the front wall, the same lovely stained glass she’d seen in the photo of the house he’d showed her before they left for the trip. She was so entranced by the faint, colored light spilling in through the round window that it took her a moment to realize what else was in the room.