Crave (14 page)

“That would pay my mortgage for a couple of months. Like six months, really.”

“Any objection beyond the price?”

She turned to look at him, placing the mirror face down on the counter, aware of the clerk’s interest. “Reece, this is ridiculous. I may only wear it once.”

“Any other objections? Emotional ones? Mental ones?”

“Nothing other than the fact that it’s too expensive.” She looked at the clerk. “Can we see something less pricey? Maybe in silver?”

“Sarah.”

She faced Reece and realized her error. His lips were pressed together. “I…” She paused. “I’m still not very good at this, am I? If it pleases you, Sir, I’d be honored to wear it.”

“Lift your hair.” He removed the choker.

“Reece, I apologize.”

“Wrap it up,” he instructed the clerk.

The man smiled. “It looks lovely on you,” he said to Sarah.

“It’s beautiful.”

A few minutes later, they left the store with Reece carrying the bag.

“At least I didn’t piss you off enough that you didn’t buy it.”

“Good thing,” he replied.

She was tempted to offer to go back to the room, anything to get away from his hostility, but figuring that would annoy him even more, she kept her mouth shut.

“Breakfast?”

“I’m starving,” she said.

They went to another outdoor restaurant. Since they were later than most people, they had the place to themselves. The hostess seated them near a fountain. After promising to return with coffee, she left them alone.

A grackle landed on the edge of the fountain, making its obnoxious jeeb-jeeb-jeeb sound.

“That’s one of the ways I know I’m in the Keys,” she said.

A bus person shooed away the bird. It left for thirty seconds before returning.

A waitress brought coffee and took their orders.

“Look, Reece, I’m sorry. I should have spoken with you, not the clerk. I was wrong. I get that you’re angry. And I don’t blame you.” She put her hand on the table, palm up, beseeching him. “I didn’t run. I’m still here. I didn’t freak out. Well, except for the idea of spending so much of your money.”

“You mentioned that it would pay your mortgage for several months. It occurs to me I don’t even know where you live. I assumed you weren’t struggling financially, but I could be wrong.”

Suddenly she realized how big the gulf was between them. It wasn’t a matter of her showing up, apologizing, getting a spanking and pretending that everything was fine, as if they’d never been apart.

They might have agreed to keep the past behind them, but she was beginning to believe that was impossible. She had the unfair advantage of having been able to keep up with him, his successes, his struggles. “I am doing okay. I live in Colorado.”

“Colorado?”

“It was a big move,” she said. “Totally different from Houston. I thought I was going to freeze that first winter. With the humidity, Houston can feel cold, but not like that. The first time it was thirty below with the wind chill, I booked a vacation to Key West.”

“Why Colorado?”

“My college roommate was living in Denver, and geographically, culturally, it was light years away from Texas. I thought I’d stay until I figured out what I wanted to do, but I fell in love with Golden. I bought a town home in Golden, near the School of Mines. Amazing views. I can ride my bike almost any place.”

“As long as it’s not snowing.”

“True enough.”

“And you still have your business?”

She shook her head. “I sold that one. Not for much money, but enough to help me get re-established. I’ve done quite well with the new venture, thanks to the skills I learnt working for you. I found a niche.”

“I’m not surprised.”

When she realized he had no clue what type of business she was doing, she said, “I own a virtual assistant company. We cater to small business owners, entrepreneurs mainly, people who don’t really want someone in their office all the time or can’t afford a number of different employees. We do remote payroll, accounting, bookkeeping, HR services.”

He nodded.

“What makes us unique is that we also handle things such as social media, web updates, answering phones, PR, marketing campaigns, mailings. We provide one point of contact, and I have dozens of really talented people who work for me, some full-time, some part-time. We have about a dozen who freelance. One stop, one bill.”

“Brilliant. Does Julien know about it?”

“No. He was your friend. I didn’t think it was fair to ask him for business advice.”

He sat back and pushed his coffee away.

“I know. Nothing I did was fair.”

“I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it in your eyes. And you’re right to think it. What I did was monumentally wrong. I don’t deserve forgiveness. Nothing I do will change the past.”

“Would you like a hair shirt now, or later?”

Her half-smile faded quickly.

Their food arrived and she slathered her waffle with butter and syrup. “I’m on vacation,” she said with a shrug. “And carbs make me feel better.”

“No judgment from me.”

“Says he who is eating a vegetarian egg white omelet.”

They were finishing their meal when North Star and Magenta paused at their table. “Loved the set-up,” Magenta said. “I think I could get accustomed to this young man doing my bidding.” She traced his jawline.

North Star grinned. “Had a hard time sitting this morning,” he confessed.

“Too much information,” Sarah said.

“You may want to put a salve on his marks when you finish with him,” Reece said. “Arnica works well. I prefer a cream to an ointment for my subs.”

Stunned, Sarah curled her hands around the mug, unable to believe they were having this conversation in public with others nearby.

“What did you use?”

“My belt. This one.” North Star fingered it and grinned. “Bites like a sonofabitch.”

“Check with Kennedy Aldrich. He might have packed some extra toys.”

“Will do,” Magenta said. “Didn’t know he was a kinkster.”

“He’s a Dungeon Master at a club on the east coast. And adult toys are big business. He’s invested in some companies.”

“Makes sense,” Magenta said. “Shall we, North Star?” She looped his tie around her hand and pulled him in closer.

“Yes, Mistress.”

The two moved on.

“I didn’t realize Kennedy is a DM.”

“He also does some one-on-one instruction. Taught me how to use the looped flogger.”

“When I first met him, he remarked on my training.”

“He knows a few details. Nothing to make you too uncomfortable.”

“About you wanting to collar me?”

He nodded.

“What did he say?”

“Two years ago, he showed up as one of my best friends. Yesterday, after seeing the efforts you went to, to get here, he reminded me that there’s a difference between fear and cowardice.”

“What do you think?”

“I’m wondering where that line is.”

What would it be like if the situation were reversed, if he’d walked out on her? Would she be quick to forgive? Would she try again? And if she did, would doubt linger, gnawing at the edges of their happiness?

He’d placed the bag from the jeweler’s in the middle of the table, next to a small flower vase, ensuring that she’d have to look at it through the whole meal.

He’d teased her about wearing a hair shirt. Maybe she was. Maybe she deserved it.

“You’re scowling.”

“I don’t like what I’m thinking about,” she admitted.

“Which is?”

“The shoe being on the other foot, so to speak. Imagining what I did to you.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Very.”

“I could try wearing yours,” he said.

“Not sure you’d look good in heels.” She smiled because that was what he’d intended. But there really was no possible way to apologize for the damage she’d caused.

“Forget it. For now.”

Who knew it would be Reece who encouraged her to move away from the self-criticism? “You’re more magnanimous than I am,” she said.

“More focused on the moment, maybe.”

From their vantage point, she saw Magenta walk past, still leading her sub by the tie. “Are they married?”

“No. They live in separate towns. So nothing beyond occasional hook-ups at events.”

“I think after last night, it might become a little more serious. But really, with names like those, they seem to belong together. Who puts Magenta and North Star on a birth certificate? I mean, beyond movie stars?”

“Not their parents. Alternate identities. When they come here, they leave their real lives behind. Magenta runs a publicly traded company and if her wild streak were known, her board of directors would vote her out. He’s an investigative reporter, network television. One of the only members of the press allowed at the event, but only because he left his credentials on the mainland. I’m surprised you don’t recognize him.”

“I don’t watch much TV.”

Reece signed the check.

“I’m surprised they were so open…about what they did last night.”

“They knew we were a friendly audience.”

“Well, they’re not hiding it now, either.”

“Tonight, Sarah, everyone will know about the nature of our relationship.”

The waffle sat heavy in her stomach. “You’re trying to make me nervous. Test me again.” See if she was worthy of trust?

He stood and pulled back her chair. “We’ve only got a couple of hours before getting ready for the big party.”

“I heard a rumor that a cheerleader will be popping out of his cake.”

“Probably more like an entire squad,” he said.

“I’ve got a few ideas on how to pass the time.”

“Oh?” He pulled her against him and she willingly went. It didn’t matter who was watching. The only thing that mattered was him.

“Yesterday you promised me a lesson to help reinforce your rules.”

“So I did. Do you want it here or upstairs?”

She shivered, and it wasn’t from the breeze dancing off the ocean. The things he said scored a direct hit on her libido. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I spanked you in the restaurant last night,” he reminded her.

A chill danced through her. She remembered. “Upstairs,” she said. “Stat.”

“Excellent choice.”

He smiled, and it was as if the world tilted back into its correct position. Reece mattered to her. And she was realizing that his reputation as the Iceman was correct. He never yelled or got really angry. His moods were not mercurial. But she much preferred him when he was being warm and loving.

“My room,” he said.

The choice was intentional, she knew. That was where the toys were, and she’d be in his space, not her own.

“What was the transgression?” he asked when they were sealed in the silence of his room.

“I forgot to say thank you after our scene.”

He placed the bag with her choker next to the television. Then he took two steps toward her.

She stood her ground, looking at him, waiting for him.

“What’s the proper punishment?”

Sarah thought. “Well, I had a flogging. Which I enjoyed.”

While he waited for her answer, he folded his arms over his chest—on purpose, she was sure. He suddenly looked much fiercer.

“And you gave me a paddling.”

“Did you like that?”

“Yes. I really liked it.”

“What about it appealed to you?”

“The impact…” She tried to find the words to describe the way it had utterly mastered her. “It’s only in one spot, but the pain is blunt, so I really felt it. Then… There’s the sound of it.” Sarah rubbed her forearms. “Unmistakable. Very intimidating. It sounds hollow, and it reverberates. You gave me fewer strokes, which I’m not saying is something I want, but the interlude feels more heightened because it’s shorter. It’s… I’m rambling.”

“I like it. Tell me more.”

“The whole experience is sublime.”

“Agreed. The leather paddle sounds even better.”

“That’s in the bag.”

“It is,” he agreed.

“Shall I fetch it?” she offered.

“Is that what you want?”

“Honestly?” She shook her head.

“Then?”

“After what North Star said… I want to try your belt.”

“Take it off me, then.”

In an instant, they’d gone from teasing to a scene. The way he looked at her, spoke to her, changed something inside her. Her blood seemed to thicken in her veins, and sounds became amplified. Her reaction was always immediate. Palpable.

She reached for his belt.

“On your knees, Sarah.” That tone… Implacable. Confident of her compliance.

“Yes, Sir.” She knelt. When nerves assailed her, her fingers felt like thumbs, and it took her a couple of attempts to release the buckle.

The leather hissed when she pulled it from his belt loops.

“Put it on the bed then stand up and take off your clothes.”

Her tummy was in knots as she laid out the belt then removed her dress. She stood before him, naked.

“Present your body to me, Sarah.”

She put her hands behind her neck and arched her back to thrust her breasts toward him. Then she placed her feet shoulder-width apart.

“What’s the proper number of strokes?”

“You know I hate that question, right?”

“Which is why I ask it.”

Too many, and she might be in for some real pain. If she named a number too low, he might double it to teach her a lesson. Worse, she might be frustrated if she didn’t reach the endorphin high that she longed for. “Eight.”

“Why eight?”

“It’s the number of letters in thank you.”

“Nine,” he said. “One for the space between the words.”

“Perfect.”

He dragged over a chair and sat. “Over my knee.”

This was what she craved. The connection, skin to skin, the intimacy. She loved the cross and bondage, but this was even better.

Drawing a few breaths, she positioned herself.

He juggled her so that her ass was more prominent, and he trapped her legs between his.

“Grab hold of the chair and don’t let go.”

“This seems serious, Sir.” Enough that her breaths were already ragged.

“It’s meant to reinforce your manners.”

“It will.”

He rubbed her thighs and buttocks. “Your skin was meant for this.”