Breaking Skye (7 page)

“Get some of that arnica gel I told you about—it’ll help with the bruising and the soreness.”

“I will.”

“So? How was your evening?”

“Pretty damn thrilling if you want to know the truth. What I’m not so thrilled about is…that he was right about me.”

“I would have suspected that. You’re too attached to your own sense of control to be happy about it,” Esme suggested, only half teasing.

“I know. But I can’t deny the way my body responded to the things he did to me. Hell, I can’t deny what he did to my head.”

And maybe to her heart.

But no, that was ridiculous. She hardly knew the man.

I know everything I need to know.

Why was the voice in her head so damn smug? Maybe because it was right?

“Esme, what do I really even know about him?” she asked, exasperated with her own sense of doubt, hoping for an answer.

“Well, it seems to me you know quite a bit, from what you’ve told me—that he’s gorgeous, intelligent, articulate. And kinky.” She paused, her tone growing more serious. “And it seems you know you can trust him.”

“Yes. No, that isn’t quite right. It’s too easy. And him being kinky is too crude an explanation. I mean, he is but...Adam is a true sensualist. I can see it in everything he does. The way he moves, the way he…the way he touched me. The way he shifts his damn car. In the simple luxury of his home—you should see the art covering his walls. He
knows
art. Unless he used a decorator, but I don’t think he did.”

“He sounds like the perfect man for you.”

“Maybe. Except that this BDSM thing is a huge part of his life and for me it’s a temporary experience. All we have is this carved out bit of time together—a few days, a few weeks, maybe. By then I’ll have this urge worked out of my system and whatever is going on between us will be over, exactly as it’s supposed to be. I don’t even know why I’m spending so much time trying to figure it all out.”

“Sometimes the best laid plans, and all that, Skye.”

“Sometimes. Not for me.”

“Don’t let my rotten uncle and your even more rotten father ruin this for you, Skye. Don’t let your poor choice of men in the past convince you to turn away from something that could be really great,” Esme insisted.

“I know you mean well, but this thing with Adam
is
great. Confusing as hell, but great.
For now
. So I’m not throwing anything away. It’s just…what it was meant to be. A slice of life experience. Which is perfectly okay.”

“Is it, ducks?” Esme asked gently.

“Yes. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just…good to check in with you this morning.”

“I’m glad you did. If you need anything—”

“…I know where to find you.” She needed to get off the phone. As much as she loved talking with her cousin, she needed time to simply wrap her head around this. “Don’t worry about me. Really. This was meant to be a short-lived thing. Adam and I are on the same page about it.”

“If you say so, cous. I’ll talk to you later, then?”

They hung up and she plumped her pillow and turned onto her side where she could gaze out the window at the gray sky.

Were they on the same page? Was she even certain what page
she
was on, despite what she’d told her cousin?

Adam certainly hadn’t given her any hint that this would continue longer than was necessary for her to understand what her desires were all about.  Hell, they hadn’t even slept together. What reason would he have to become attached to her?

And why did she want him to be?

Tears stung her eyes when she remembered how he’d stayed next to her on the bed after he’d spanked her last night. Just sat with her, stroking her back, her hair. What kind of man did that? Then he’d dressed her himself, like she was some porcelain doll, had handed her into his car so carefully before he’d driven her home. Every moment, every gesture, had been gentle, caring.

He was just being a responsible Dom.

Yes, of course. It was the irrational, girlish part of her that thought she’d read something more there. A part of her she’d closed off a long time ago.

It seemed Adam Dunne was loosening the tight hold she’d always kept over her emotions. Opening her up. Breaking her open. He frankly scared the hell out of her. But she would go back to him as soon as he wanted her.

She wouldn’t miss it for all the world.

She had to stop thinking about him.

She threw back the covers and got up, took a quick shower before going into the kitchen to make a strong cup of coffee, which she drank at her kitchen table, staring out the small window, thinking about her night with Adam. Or, trying to. Her brain was still fuzzy. She
felt
more than she thought. Her body remembered sensations, sounds, scents. And most of all the heat of his hands on her body.

Oh, yes…

She sipped her coffee, her head lost in a sort of kinky dreamland. When she lifted the cup to her lips and found it empty she was surprised. Even more surprised to glance at the clock on her microwave and seeing she’d been sitting there for nearly an hour.

When she returned to her bedroom she found she’d missed a call from Adam. Her heart began a steady, harsh beat as she dialed his number.

“Hello, Skye.”

“Adam…hi.”

“What have you been doing?”

“I was just drinking some coffee. I checked in with my cousin. And I took a shower. I was sore and I—”

“Skye. That was not meant to be an interrogation. I just wanted to know how your day was going.”

“Oh.”

“So? How is your day going?”

She bit her lip. “It’s…been fine. I’m a little tired. Spacey.”

“And sore?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She laughed. “You really are a sadist.”

A small chuckle from him. “I’ve never claimed otherwise.”

She could hear the humor in his voice. She liked it. Liked that he could be so serious with her when they were sceneing, and that he was beginning to relax with her now, too.

“A long, hot shower is good for the soreness,” he told her. “You can use an ice pack if you need it.”

“Do you expect I’ll ever need an ice pack?” she asked, flirting as much as she dared with him.

His tone lowered.  “I have specific plans that I hope will require an ice pack.”

He was still joking—to some extent. But the words made her go soft and warm and needy all over.

“I hope so, too.”

Another chuckle from him. Then he asked, “Tell me, Skye, have you had any symptoms of sub drop? Any unreasonable fears? Fleeting depression, melancholy? Anything out of the ordinary that we should talk about?”

“No, just that spaciness. No mood instability. I really do feel good.”

“Excellent. If you do, you’re to call me right away. And this is not an arguable point. Now, tell me what your week will be like.”

“I have two classes to teach, on Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Ah, what’s your subject?”

“The female artists of the Impressionist era.”

“Mary Cassatt and Berthe Morisot?”

“Yes, among others. You really do know your art. I saw…well, I sort of saw the works in your house. You have some incredible pieces.”

“I’ve been collecting since I could afford to—a few years. Once I’d made enough money to buy my first house the art came next. Even before my first new car.”

“I just realized I don’t even know what you do.”

“I’m a stock trader. I’ve worked from home for almost ten years, built a good portfolio. Now I mostly have a manager look after my business, which leaves me free to travel when I want to. But I still have to get my hands in things once in a while, just for the challenge of it. I also got into real estate a few years ago, and I’ve done pretty well. I have a few apartment buildings here in the city and one house across the bridge in Marin. I’ve always figured I’d retire there eventually.”

“That’s saying something in this economy. What else do you do, aside from working? And…the kind of things you do with me?”

“I race my car—take it up to a track in Sonoma. It started as a defensive driving course a long time ago…”

He trailed off and she waited for him to finish.

“Adam?”

“Yeah…I…also play some hockey. And I like to snowboard when I can get away.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how,” she told him. “I love the snow. I’ve rented a cabin up at Lake Tahoe with friends a few times. We’ve taken snowmobiles out, which I loved, but I’ve never gotten around to taking snowboard lessons. Maybe this winter. ”

“You should do it. You should try whatever it is you want to.”

“Including kink?” she asked.

“It seems to be working out well for you so far.”

She had to smile. “It has. When do we do it again?”

His tone shifted, low and sexy. “You’re eager.”

“Yes.”

“That’s good to know. I like to know your body will be ready for me when I tell you to come to me. I like to know there’s a little torture in you having to wait. And you’re going to wait until Friday night.”

She wanted to groan but she held it in. “Friday. Alright.”

“Are you as calm about that as you sound?” he asked. “Tell me the truth, Skye.”

She let out a long breath. “Not even close.”

He laughed. “Excellent. We’ll talk during the week. And Skye?”

“Yes?”

“No pleasuring yourself while you wait. You are to come only with me.”

“Oh…”

Her body heated to boiling the moment he said it to her. But an entire week feeling like this? She’d have to lock up her vibrators. And sleep in mittens.

“Tell me you understand,” he prompted.

She swallowed, hard. “I understand, Adam.”

“Be at my house at nine. No, scratch that. Make it eight.”

One hour earlier. It shouldn’t make her heart race with pleasure that he wanted to see her even that much sooner.

Ridiculous.

But it did. Her pulse was a hot, thready flurry in her veins, beating a steady cadence between her thighs.

I am in big trouble.

CHAPTER EIGHT

She took the same route to Adam’s house she had the week before, taking a cab as Adam had ordered. The evening fog had rolled in early, and the air was cool and damp. Even now, at night, she could see the fog obscuring the stars and moon, could feel it all around her. She’d always love the faint tang of sea salt in the air in San Francisco. It soothed her raw nerves a bit. But only a bit tonight. Most of her was thrumming with anticipation like some drumbeat deep in her body, shimmering out to her limbs, through every nerve ending.

The cab made a straight shot down the Church Street hill, then through the east end of Noe Valley. The city’s lovely Victorian structures flashed by outside the windows: store fronts, bars and restaurants. She was acutely aware of everything—the sensations in her own body, but also the city outside the dark, womblike confines of the cab. Neon signs, the glow of streetlights, the chugging buses, a group of people standing outside a bar. Color and sound and scent all around her.

She realized then that she was worked up into an incredible state of hyper-awareness, a lovely, nearly painful awareness she’d never felt before.

Almost there.

Her fingers tapped the vinyl seat on either side of her thighs, which were pressed tightly together as she tried to suppress some of the tension between them. Tension that had built excruciatingly all week. If he hadn’t instructed her not to, she would have spent the entire week with her vibrators, getting off in her bed, in the shower, on the damn living room floor.

But he had made her wait. And now she understood exactly why.

Oh, he was cruel. But in the most wonderful way possible.

She recognized his block as the cab slowed and pulled over. She recognized the feeling of being there, arriving at Adam’s home. But tonight she felt completely different. This time she had some idea of what might happen there. She knew the scent of him, the feel of his hands on her skin—the gentle touch of stroking fingertips, the rough touch of his spanking palm. She was soaking wet by the time she reached his door.

She knew in making her wait to see him he’d wanted her to take some time to figure out if this was working for her. To be certain this was what she truly wanted.

She’d never wanted anything so much in her life.

She paid the driver, got out and went to the front door, knocked.  Adam pulled the door open right away, as absurdly handsome as always. He was dressed all in black. The color of sin. He smiled at her, a wicked gleam in his deep blue eyes.

“Welcome, Skye.”

She paused, feeling uncertain, but he reached out and drew her through the door.

“Why so quiet?” he asked, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I…I think I’m sort of falling into subspace already. Is that normal?”

“There’s no ‘normal’ or ‘abnormal’ in the BDSM realm. Everyone responds differently. But does it please me? Absolutely.” He stroked a finger over her jaw and she simmered at his touch. “So smile, beautiful girl.”

She did, feeling as if she were lighting up from the inside. It was those words again.
Beautiful girl.
The way he said them. The way he looked at her. She could feel his pleasure with her, could feel his absolute command. And she’d just walked in the door. What else might happen there tonight? In his house…in his hands?

She bit back a small moan as he slid her coat from her shoulders and hung it in the hall closet.

He turned to her then, laying his hands on both of her shoulders, looking into her eyes. Searching them. His were that magnetic dusky blue. Intense, as always.

“Tell me, Skye, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Wonderful.”

“Have you done some thinking? About what we’re doing? About being here with me? About your entry into this lifestyle?”

“Yes, I’ve thought about it a lot. I’ve thought of almost nothing else, to be honest.”

Except him
.

“And?” He gave her shoulders a small squeeze.

“And this is exactly where I want to be. This is what I’ve needed. You were right and…I want the process. I know that now. You’ve helped me see it, helped me see…
myself
. I’m understanding things more and more—how it’s working for me. Maybe it sounds corny, but I see the beauty in it. Does that make sense?”