Punishing Petra [Locks and Chains 3] (9 page)

He leaned back again and continued to watch them cooking. This was what his son missed, this interaction and the feminine contact. This was what his son craved. This is what he craved. He wanted to be married again and to come home to a wife and kids. He wanted it all. He also wanted to be able to tie up his wife, spank her, whip her, paddle her, and so many other kinky delicious things, and Petra loved them all. If they could make a relationship work between them, he could have it all, and by the look of it, his son was already giving his stamp of approval. He needed to ensure that he didn’t jump into anything out of a sense of desperation. He needed to get to know the real Petra, but what he saw so far was amazing. She submitted like a slave, she loved like a true woman, and she cared for his son like a mother. He moved toward the kitchen. He had a new mission in life. He was going to capture Petra, and if all went well, he would move her in, marry her, and live happily, kinkily ever after.

“Something smells great.” He watched as both their heads turned. His son’s smile could light the darkest night. Petra had a guilty expression as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t be. He needed to give her his okay. Again it warmed his heart that she was worried she had overstepped with his son.

“Morning, Petra. You never told me you were such a good cook.” He smiled and winked at her. He watched as her shoulders dropped in relief.

“You never asked, silly.”

She had caught on to his need to act as though they had known each other for a while and not just one night and not very well at that. He kissed her on the cheek and noticed that she was wearing one of his shirts. It was the sexiest outfit he had ever seen. It was the length of a dress on her. He let his hand rest on her hip and the lack of a panty line told him his shirt was all she wore. His cock, which had been completely flaccid, almost instantly became fully engorged, and he scolded himself for acting like a teenage boy in front of his son. He moved behind Petra, using her as a shield. All he wore was a loose pair of boxer shorts. He trapped his hard cock between their bodies and as soon as his cock hit Petra’s back she jolted and then broke into gales of laughter. The sound was so musical he wanted to hear it all day.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” he whispered into her ear.

“Yup.”

“Well, it’s your fault.”

“Yeah right.”

“Want me to prove it?” he said, pushing himself harder into her back.

“I’ll just have to trust you this time.”

He wrapped his arms around her to hide his grinding of his cock into her back. He loved the intake of her breath and her push back against him.

“Behave, Kyle. Joel would like his brownies cooked not burnt.”

“Dad, don’t mess with the brownies,” Joel replied with an appalled expression on his face.

“How could I dare mess with the brownies? I’m going to go get dressed so I can really enjoy my breakfast.” He moved her toward the doorway, still using her as shield.

“Would you like a hand with that or is your hand enough?”

That cheeky vixen, he wanted to smack her ass then drag her back to bed, loving her, fucking her all day.

“If all I can get is a hand, mine’s enough, but I’ll get you to help me out later with other bits.”

He turned and walked away from the laughing Petra in his kitchen, cooking treats for his son. Going to the club last night may very well have been the best thing he had ever done in his life. Some might be terrified by the sudden change in their life, but he welcomed it with open arms.

* * * *

Caleb woke up to an empty bedroom and was thankful for it. Visions of last night flooded his mind. The vision of Petra under his whip felt as though it was tattooing itself behind his eye lids. She was a mythical creature, an angel, a fairy, a Valkyrie. Sent by the gods to pleasure and torture him in equal amounts. One night tasting her pleasure and pain would never be enough. He needed more. He wanted to have her silken heat wrapped around his hard cock and to again be buried deep in her body. He wanted to pound her and to make her feel his strength as he took his pleasure in her. He wanted to watch her fall apart in his arms, seeing the pleasure contorting her face over and over again. So lost in his visions, he couldn’t help but allow his hand to snake under the sheet now covering him and wrap around his rock-hard cock. His thumb flicked over his crown to gather the pre-cum already seeping from his steel shaft. His hips began a slow thrusting up toward his enclosed hand.

“Fuck. All right, I’m not evolved enough or whatever you call it to deal with this.”

The sound of Kyle’s voice jolted him into an upright sitting position.

“Shit!” he panted and looked directly at Kyle, who was sporting a slowly deflating hard-on in his boxers.

Chapter Nine

“Fuck, don’t think this is for you man. It’s Petra’s all the way,” Kyle stammered.

“So’s mine,” Caleb responded.

“Fuck!”

“Fuck!”

“We’re going to have to find some way to talk about this over some beers or something. Or, we could forget it entirely,” Kyle said, looking at the ceiling.

“I’m in for forgetting. Is she still here by the way?” he said, looking down at the floor.

“Yes, she is and I’m not sure whether I can forget you jacking off in my bed any time soon. I have this horrible feeling that image will be burned in my brain till death.”

“So beers it is then.”

“Yeah, looks like it,” Kyle said, turning and walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Caleb huffed and then threw his head back against the pillows in his frustration. Fuck, how he had gotten here he’d no idea, and hell, he didn’t want to stay. The image of Petra flashed before him, and he knew he was a liar. He did want to be here with her, but jacking off in front of Kyle, that he didn’t want. But what should he do now? Should he get dressed and run out the door? Should he get dressed, say thanks for the great night, and go, or should he…? He had no idea what the third option would be. He’d never been in this position before. What does a man, a Dom, do in this kind of mess? His inner voice screamed at him to bluff it. Act like he knew what he was doing. Then maybe he would get out of this without too much of a disaster.

He groaned again at being caught jacking off by Kyle. What the hell had he been thinking, in his friend’s bed and all? This was worse than getting caught by his mom on the basement couch. Hell, this was worse than at summer camp when he was thirteen. He needed to think. He needed to…God! He wanted to fucking scream. This shit was too heavy. He would just get up, get dressed, and get the fuck out of here. He wouldn’t look back. He’d just get out as fast as possible. He grabbed his pants from the floor and pulled the zip up so hard he heard the twang of thread snapping.

Checking to make sure nothing had broken, he pulled his shirt on, practicing in his head what he’d say to Petra if she was between him and the front door.
“Thanks for last night. You were great.”
Okay, maybe.
“I have to get to the hospital. You know, doctors never rest.”
Shit.
“Look, Petra, it was fun, but now the sun has risen.”
Yeah, that would go over great, asshole! He slipped his feet into his shoes. Screw socks, he would worry about that later. Okay. Looking around to see there was nothing he’d missed, he moved to the door. Not long now. Freedom was in his grasp. He could nearly smell it as he made it down the hall and across the living room without running into anyone. Then just as he hit the front entry, a voice rang through the air.

“Uncle Caleb!”

Fuck, fuck, and double fuck. He was three, maybe four, steps from freedom. Like many burglars had probably thought just before the handcuffs went on.

“Hey, buddy.” He turned to face little Joel. “My gosh, you’ve grown since last week. You’re a little man now.”

“Everyone says that, but it’s not true.”

“Well, why would everyone say it then, bud?”

“Because grownups always say that kinda stuff, and I can’t get smaller can I?”

The logic of a child, he couldn’t fault him.

“Have you met Petra? She is soo great! She made me pancakes. Do you want some? I didn’t eat them all.”

Okay, now it was sentencing time. This little boy was his judge. “Yeah, I’ve met Petra.” Intimately. Biblically. Not to be thought about in front of a child. “Of course I’d love pancakes. Who doesn’t like pancakes?”

“My teacher Mrs. Clarke doesn’t.”

“Well, she’s just missing out.”

“Yeah, she is.”

They headed toward the kitchen, still chatting about Mrs. Clarke and her likes and dislikes, and Caleb had to suck in the gasp that tried to escape his chest at the sight of Petra. The shirt covered her like a dress, but it’s was the masculine lines and the knowledge that she wore nothing underneath it. Well, at least not a bra, anyway. He could see her dark areolas and the pert tips of her nipples outlined through the fabric. He would also put money on the fact that she didn’t have panties on either. Her hair was tousled. She looked like a woman well pleased and well loved. He wasn’t prepared for the blow of lust and appreciation that hit him at the sight of her. How could he have missed her for so many years? How could he possibly have overlooked her time and time again?
Wasted years!
Where the hell had that come from? He didn’t want commitment. Hell, he’d just been caught trying to escape the house like a thief.

“Good morning, Petra.” There that sounded perfectly sane and normal. It didn’t show any of the emotions or crap that were running around in his head right now. Yes, he had everything under control.
You fucking liar, you disappoint yourself.
He needed to shut that inner prick up, inner child his ass, more like inner bastard that loved to mess with his life.
No, you dick, just the only part of you that’s honest.

* * * *

Petra looked at Caleb and wanted to weep. Disappointment and pain flashed through her, but she steeled herself not to cry, not to show how much it hurt that he’d tried to slip out of the house. Granted, last night there hadn’t been any declarations of love or even of a relationship or anything, but still she’d thought they’d created a connection. She’d thought that once Caleb had finally seen her, had finally been in her arms and in her bed, he’d want to own her. He would, well…want her. Yes, Kyle was an interesting addition. She had a few friends in permanent ménages and some in ménage à quatres. Truth be told, she loved the idea of having two men. Hell, who wouldn’t? But she also knew that those relationships required much more work and of course were way more complicated. But she was willing to put the effort in. As much as she desired and even to an extent loved Caleb, she also couldn’t deny the connection she felt with Kyle. He lightened Caleb. Caleb by himself might actually be too much. His darkness was so deep she could become lost. But Kyle added a safety light so she could always find her way home.

But obviously, as strong and enlightened as she was, she hadn’t prepared herself for his rejection. Who could honestly prepare themselves for rejection? The crush felt physical, and she wanted to scream at him.
Why am I not good enough?
Why am I not worthy?
Her inner bitch wanted to scream, Well, fuck you, buddy. You’re not good enough for me.

“Morning, Caleb.” There, didn’t that sound normal? It didn’t show any of her inner traumas. Yes, she could do this. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” He took the stool next to the one Joel had claimed.

“So, little man, what have you been up to?” Caleb asked.

“School.”

“Huh.”

“I finally got dad to buy me an Xbox 360.”

“Really, how’d you do that?”

“Because I was good, really, really good.”

She fell more in love with the little boy. His conspiratorial smirk showed a cunning and intelligence years beyond his age. It was obvious he had manipulated his father into the purchase. She fixed a plate of pancakes for Caleb and placed it in front of him, and he smiled in thanks, and again she battled for her eyes not to water. He was so handsome, and he was so above her league. Thankfully the timer on the oven rang, announcing that the brownies were ready. She put on the oven mitts and opened the door, and the blast of hot air on her face proved she’d not been as successful as she’d thought in stopping her eyes from watering. At least now she could blame the heat from the oven. Removing the hot trays and placing them on the sink, she inspected her baking and was proud that they looked perfect. She really did love to cook. It was just that cooking for one was depressing and unrewarding. She needed to remove herself from this situation. There were too many emotions to deal with, and she needed time to create some defenses against Caleb.
Don’t worry, you won’t need them, you idiot. You only need to say good-bye, and you’ll never have him again.
She felt the sadness of her thoughts literally weighing her down, and so she leaned against the kitchen counter for support.