Pleasure's Edge (21 page)

“I adore my grandmother. When we were kids, Quinn and I would spend summers with her. But after a while it made Darcy too anxious for us to leave for any length of time, and she’d be a wreck when we got back. So we stopped going. And to this day I don’t know if my grandmother had any idea how bad my mother was. Not until she came to Oregon. I never told her, and I’m sure Quinn never said a word. It was our secret. It was how we protected her.”

“She was your mother. She should have protected you. That’s how it works.”

“For most people, maybe. But she wasn’t capable, Alec.”

“I know. But it’s pretty fucking awful, anyway.”

“Yes. It was.”

It felt better than she would have imagined hearing him say that.

To be validated in that way. She squeezed his hand. She didn’t know how else to express the strange gratitude she felt.

“So you spent your whole life being the one in charge of things,” he said.

“Yes.”

“And being alone.”

Why did that make her want to cry, suddenly? She bit down against the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Damn it,” she said quietly.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“Is it?”

Alec held her more tightly, and she had to fight not to pul away. It comforted her.
He
comforted her. But she didn’t want to let herself have that. She’d been handling life on her own for so long. If she al owed herself to get used to this, what would she do when he was gone, as he inevitably would be?

“You don’t have to tel me anything more right now, Dylan. I have a feeling that was a lot for you.”

“It was. And . . . ”

“And what?”

“I guess I’m waiting for the questions. About my mother being bipolar. What it was like living with a . . . crazy person. About specific incidents. The details of losing my brother.”

“You don’t have to tel me those things now. Or maybe ever. But I do have one question.”

She sighed. “What is it?”

“Do al the women in your family have names beginning with

‘D’?”

She laughed, some of the tension draining from her body. How was it he brought out so much emotion in her, and could make her feel so good al at the same time?

“Yes. I forget that’s weird to other people. My great-great-grandmother started it, apparently. It’s sil y.”

“I think it’s sort of sweet.”

She tilted her head to look up at him. “You are a strange man, Alec Walker.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that. And it won’t be the last. I don’t mind. I’m a rebel at heart, you know.”

The blue of his eyes gleamed from beneath his half-lowered lids, making her breath catch. He was too damn handsome

“I’ve known that since the first moment I saw you,” she told him.

“I saw that in you, too. You aren’t the usual woman.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, I like that about you. I like your creative mind. And your air of mystery.”

“I don’t mean to be mysterious. I’m just . . . private.”

“So am I. There are certain things we keep to ourselves, people like you and me.”

“I don’t like to air my problems. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.”

“Because it makes you vulnerable.”

“Yes. Sitting here, tel ing you about these things, makes me feel more vulnerable than being tied up by you, spanked . . . more vulnerable than anything else possibly could.”

“That’s good. I want you to open to me. The more, the better.”

“Because that’s your job as a good dominant?”

“Yes. Maybe.” He paused, ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe that’s not the only reason.”

“Does that make you feel vulnerable, Alec?” she asked quietly.

“Tel ing me this?”

He nodded, pul ed their clasped hands up to his chest and rubbed his fingers over hers. “Yes. I don’t like to think about it that way, but yes.”

“I’m not the expert, certainly, but I’ve read that this is supposed to be a reciprocal learning experience. The power play. It’s an exchange of power, not a one-way thing. Is that right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“So maybe this is what you learn with me. Because I don’t see how it can be a reciprocal experience if you don’t have something to learn, too. It’s got to be about more than just you being in control, wielding the power. It has to work both ways, doesn’t it?

The bottom, the submissive, has some power in this whole thing.

And I don’t mean only the power in the submissive’s ability to stop the scene by using their safe word. I’ve read about it, but I’ve never real y understood it until now.”

He was quiet a moment. Then he said, “I can tel you I’m not happy about admitting I am vulnerable in any way. But you’re right.

About it al . Maybe that’s what’s been holding me back. As a dominant. In life in general. I don’t like to look at this too closely. It makes me damn uncomfortable.”

“Isn’t part of the BDSM scene about chal enging your boundaries? Taking you out of your comfort zone?”

“Oh, I’m way beyond my comfort zone at the moment.”

“So am I.”

“Yet you’re here with me. You’re doing these things, talking with me. Tel ing me things you don’t want to.”

She nodded. “Yes. And I’m not even real y sure why. Maybe the BDSM play has . . . opened me up.”

“It does that.”

“But not for you.”

He smiled, but it was just a cynical lifting at the corners of his mouth. “I’m known for my absolute control.”

“So am I, Alec.”

He stared at her. She couldn’t know what was going through his mind. His eyes were dark, thoughtful. There was an edge of danger about him. As though there was a slow anger simmering just below the surface. Maybe it was just his discomfort in realizing he had to open up, too.

“We are an odd pair,” he said, his tone gentle. “But wel -

matched. We each have something holding us back from realizing our potential.”

“God, you make it sound so . . . ”

“Psychobabble?”

“Simple.”

“Maybe it is. Maybe it’s al a lot simpler than either of us make it.”

“I’m used to everything being complicated. I don’t know how to do simple.”

“Maybe we’l learn that together.”

She wanted that, suddenly. To be with him, learn with him. Grow with him. She didn’t even know what that meant, exactly. She didn’t want to admit to it, anyway.

You are falling for him.

No.

But it was true. She was fal ing, hard and fast, and when she final y hit bottom, it was going to be one ugly mess.

Don’t do it.

But it was happening, whether she liked it or not. She couldn’t stop herself. There was no way out of this but to move forward, wherever that would lead.

Alec sat at the enormous oak desk in his home office, staring past his computer monitor and out the window. He was supposed to be searching online for places to stay on his upcoming motorcycle road trip with Dante down to the Baja Peninsula. They’d been talking about it for months, and it was time to make solid plans. He had a break between book deadlines coming up, and Dante had already arranged for the time away from his office. Alec had been looking forward to it: a few weeks on the road on his favorite bike.

That sense of utter freedom. They’d go diving down there.

Parasailing. Lounge on the beach.

Why wasn’t his heart in it today? Why was his mind wandering?

Outside, the sky was the usual Seattle gray, the dim sunlight filtering through the clouds, lighting them up in silver and white. He loved the Seattle sky, the moodiness of it. But today it was making him brood.

No, that wasn’t it. It was Dylan.

He hadn’t been able to think straight since he’d left her early Tuesday morning. Four days, he’d been like this. In his head too much. Sulky.

Except when he cal ed her at night. Every night. They would talk for an hour. He’d never talked on the phone so much in his life.

He didn’t dare see her yet. He was too raw from being with her the other night.

Maybe he should go to the club tonight. Dante would be there, some of his other acquaintances. But the truth was that he didn’t want to go without Dylan. Couldn’t bear to play with anyone else.

Dylan . . .

Don’t think about it. Just do it.

He ran his fingers through his goatee, rubbed his chin. Then he picked up the phone, dialed, drummed a pen on the top of his desk while it rang.

“Hel o?”

“Dylan. I’m taking you to the Pleasure Dome tonight. Don’t say no.”

“Alec. I . . . al right. I won’t.”

He got up, began to pace back and forth over the old Persian rug covering the dark hardwood floor. It was scratchy beneath his bare feet.

“Good. I’l be by to pick you up at nine.”

“I’l be ready.”

“Wear something that comes off easily.”

His cock hardened at that thought: her pale skin being revealed inch by inch as he slipped the fabric from her delicate shoulders.

That crazy hair of hers everywhere, like fire and silk in his hands . .

.

“Anything else, Alec?”

“What?”

“Is there anything else you want me to do?” Ah, he loved when her voice softened like that. When she began that slide into subspace. He loved that it happened just from him giving her simple instructions about what to wear.

“No. That’s it.” He paused, his gaze wandering to the misty skyline outside once more.

Pull it together.

“Dylan?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

A smal pause on the other end of the line. Then he could practical y hear the smile in her voice, the desire in her breathlessness. “I can’t wait, either.”

He hung up, sat down and stared at his monitor some more.

He had never said such a thing to a woman. Maybe that was some sort of character defect—he was pretty certain it was—but why was he deviating from his usual behavior now?

Everything was different with Dylan. He’d never been able to
talk
with a woman the way he did with Dylan. He’d tried to tel Dante about it the last time he’d seen him, but he hadn’t said al there was to be said. He hadn’t even admitted it al to himself.

The biggest thing was that he didn’t like being apart from her.

Crazy. He was the most independent person he knew, almost hermitlike at times, especial y when he was in the middle of writing a book. If not for the lure of the Pleasure Dome, his love for travel, he’d probably hole up by himself and write his life away. Spend his life alone, as his father had. His father had been happy enough.

Maybe. He’d begun to question that recently.

But now, he wanted to hole up with Dylan, and never let her leave.

Was there even any point in tel ing himself he could get a handle on this?

Maybe the Baja trip would be good for him. Give him some distance from Dylan, from the whole situation. Get something in his head besides the scent of her skin, the texture of her hair, the look in her eyes when she was going down into subspace. Her delicate body beneath his as he slipped his cock into her . . .

He was hard again. Or stil . He didn’t know anymore. He’d gotten himself off probably four or five times a day, like some hormonal teenager, ever since he’d last seen her. Hel , pretty much since he’d met her.

She was irresistible. Those perfect breasts, their tips growing darker as they hardened beneath his fingers . . . And Christ, when he slid into her, she was al soaking wet heat. Like burning silk, tight and sleek.

His cock pulsed, and he lowered a hand, pressed against the front of his jeans. It didn’t help. Nothing was going to help. Not until he saw her again. Until he had her, naked, bound. Until he was inside her body again.

Fuck it.

He pushed back from his desk, unzipped his jeans and took his cock out, ran his hand over the rigid shaft. Pictured Dylan in his mind. She was al long, lean legs; taut stomach; smooth expanse of satin skin. And lower, she was mostly shaved, her pussy like some sort of flower, opening to him. He could see the pink lips, swol en with need, glistening with her desire.

He groaned, began to stroke. His cock was hard as steel, throbbing. He ran his fingertips over the head, imagining it was her mouth, those luscious red lips surrounding him, swal owing his flesh.

His hips arched into his fist, and he pumped, hard enough to hurt a little. Making him think of her, the way she loved to have him grasp her nipples and pinch. She always came like crazy when he pinched her, spanked her. She loved it.

He loved it.

He thrust into his palm, over and over.

Dylan . . .

Those big gray eyes, her hot little mouth. Her pussy, grasping him tight as she climaxed.

Two more rough strokes and he was coming.

Dylan!

Al over his jeans, but he didn’t care.

He was panting, his cock stil pulsing with smal waves of pleasure. He could see her if he closed his eyes. That beautiful face . . .

He didn’t care about anything right now but her.

He would think about what the hel that meant later.

* * *

Dylan sipped at her glass of Perrier. She real y could have used a glass of wine to soothe her nerves, but Alec was insistent that neither of them were intoxicated for a play session. And tonight would be more serious, she was certain. He wouldn’t be taking her to the Pleasure Dome otherwise.

She wanted it. To be at the club, in that extreme environment with him.