Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission (17 page)

Britt Olson knew what her fiery best friend’s first words
would be the minute she was welcomed inside but she opened the front door
anyway. There was no getting around it. She’d have to deal with Mary’s
disappointment—at least until the package they were both anxious to open was
located.

Damn postal system. Even armed with full online package
tracking capabilities, Britt hadn’t been able to figure out what had happened
to her gift, lovingly chosen, paid for, and shipped by her mother. Of course,
the fact that Britt hadn’t bothered to do more than turn on her birthday gift
to herself—a new desktop with all the latest bells and whistles—and play a couple
of games of Spider Solitaire, probably didn’t help any.

But that game was addicting! A lot more fun than trying to
figure out IP addresses and work through tedious connection wizards.

“So, where is it?” Mary asked, her freckled face and pale
blue eyes full of expectation. “I came prepared.” She stepped inside and
dropped a large duffel bag on the floor. It landed with a respectably loud
thud.

“Sheesh! What’s in there? And what are you preparing for?”
Curious, Britt glanced at the worn, blue bag before returning to the kitchen to
get their drinks.

Mary followed her. “Oh, you’ll see. I have a little bit of
everything in it. I didn’t want to get caught unprepared. So where’s your
package? I’m dying to see.”

“How about you give me a hint first?” Britt struggled with
the corkscrew, silently reminding herself of a recent vow to purchase a better
one. “I think it was rotten of my mother to tell you what she bought—”

“You want some help?” Mary reached for the bottle.

“No. I’m fine. I’ll get it.” Britt gritted her teeth and
continued pulling on the stubborn cork. “The hint, please.”

“I think your mom wanted to make sure you didn’t have it
already.”

“It? What it?”

Britt bit her lip as Mary gave her an I’m-not-telling-smile
and shrugged. Prying information out of her best friend was no easier than
pulling the cork out of the bottle she held between her knees.

“This isn’t fair. You’re more excited than I’ve ever seen
you. More excited than the night before you moved into your new house, more
excited than the day before you started that nifty new job of yours. Come on!
Just one teeny, tiny hint.”

“Nope. I’m not talking. Now, where is it? You promised not
to open it ‘til I got here. So quit with the theatrics.”

“Fine. I see how you are. Just wait ‘til your birthday.” The
cork finally slid free of the bottle and Britt smiled in triumph. “As far as
where the box is… Well, um…” She poured Mary a glass of wine and handed it to
her. “I’m not sure.”

Mary didn’t bother to hide her disappointment as she glanced
at her watch. “It’s after seven. You should have gotten it by now. Your mother
always has your presents delivered on your birthday. She promised me—”

A resounding knock startled both women, and they
simultaneously looked at the front door.

“Are you expecting anyone tonight?” Mary asked.

“Nope.”

A second loud knock sent them both scurrying toward the
door. Britt peered through the peephole.

It couldn’t be. Why would he be here? She blinked then
looked again. “It’s the guy who bought my house. Andre. Should I open the door?
What if he’s mad about the bathtub faucet? Or the crappy back door that barely
closed. Or the—”

“You sold that dump ‘As Is’. You gave him a full disclosure.
He has no right to come over here angry. Does he look mad?”

Britt studied his features—slightly contorted by the
peephole’s curved lens, but still stunningly handsome—for a few seconds. She’d
never gotten this close to Andre Manuel Cruz-Romero, better known as Andre
Romero, before. Funny the things a person learned about a total stranger during
the lengthy process of closing on real estate. She knew practically everything
about him but his measurements.

And there were a few of those that she wouldn’t mind
knowing—specifically the length and girth of one part. She hadn’t been able to
ignore the sizeable lump in his trousers during the closing meeting.

The slightly magnified effect of the lens gave her a great
opportunity to see the olive-skinned hunk up close—well, at least his face.
There were the most amazing gold streaks in his deep brown eyes. A sexy mole
sat high on one cheek. Dark stubble lined his jaw and covered his chin. And his
curly hair frolicked over the top of his head in a flirty wave flopping over
one eye. “No, he doesn’t look mad. Just a bit impatient.” She turned the deadbolt
and opened the door. “Hi, Andre. What a surprise.”

Perfect, white teeth flashed brightly against his warm,
brown skin. “Hi. You had a package delivered to the house today. I thought it
might be important. I hope you don’t mind but I signed for it.” He thrust a
decent-sized cardboard box toward her.

“Oh! Thanks! I don’t mind at all. My mother must have
forgotten.” She glanced at the label then up into his eyes. “That was very
sweet.”
My God, he’s handsome. Look at that mouth! I bet he’s an amazing kisser.
She held in a sigh and tried to remember what she’d been saying.

Too late. It was gone.

“It’s a birthday gift,” Mary said, clearly trying to cover
for Britt’s major brain fart.

“Really?” he said, those perfect lips pulling into another
perfect smile that held just a hint of danger. He leaned closer, and for some
reason, Britt felt sure he was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes and held
her breath. “Happy birthday, Britt,” he whispered.

Nothing touched her lips but a soft puff of air. Damn! No
birthday kiss?

Feeling really stupid, she opened her eyes. What had made
her think he’d kiss her? While they knew a lot about each other, thanks to the
load of paperwork they’d signed a week ago, they were still virtual strangers.
After all, it had been a property closing, not a date that had brought them
together for a couple of hours.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Mary offered, giving Britt
a nudge.

Coming to, Britt motioned him inside and stammered, “Yes,
please. You’re welcome to come in. It’s a little chilly outside.”
You’re
welcome to do more than that, but sharing a glass of wine’s a nice start.

“Okay, but just one.” He stepped inside and took a visual
tour of her living room. “Nice place.” To his credit, he didn’t compare it to
the shack she’d sold him.

Still, she had an irresistible urge to explain why she’d
sold him a house that was in such rough shape. “Thanks. This place is more my
speed. I tried to fix the old place up, but it was too much for me. It belonged
to my grandparents, and I loved the old farmhouse, but I’m just not capable—”

He lifted a fingertip and pressed it to her lips. “No need
to explain. The house is old and it needs a lot of work. I’d never expect
anyone—even a woman who seems as capable as you—to be able to tackle it on her
own.”

Stunned into silence by the innocent, yet provocative, touch
to her mouth, she stared into his eyes and forced herself to resist the urge to
tease his finger with her tongue then pull it into her mouth and suck.

His very sexy and dangerous expression made her tingle all
over. She felt her panties getting wet.

Only when he pulled his finger away was she able to speak.
“I…own a Dewalt, cordless…you know.”

He reached for her again, this time seeming to aim for her
shoulder. His gaze slipped from her face.

She tensed up with expectation.

But his hand never made contact with her. Instead he smiled
at someone or something behind her and said, “Thanks.” Then, pulling his arm
back, and leaving her to watch the way his biceps thickened as he moved, he
brought a glass of wine to his mouth and sipped. His tongue darted out as he
lowered the glass. “Mmm. Very good wine.”

“Yes.” She tried to slow her panting breaths, sure she
sounded like a dog.

“So, you were saying you have a Dewalt? That’s impressive. I
don’t know many women who—”

“Would you like to have a seat?” Mary interrupted, standing
somewhere behind Britt.

My God, where are my manners?
“Yes, please! Sit.”
Feeling a bit awkward in her own skin and not completely in control of her
limbs, she lunged forward to catch his free hand. Naturally, she missed and
knocked into the one holding the glass of very red wine. Of course it spilled.
All over his white golf shirt. “Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Not thinking,
merely reacting, she reached forward and dabbed at the red stain with her
hands. “That was such a nice shirt, too. I’ll buy you a new one. I promise,”
she rambled.

Mary tapped at her shoulder and handed her a damp rag, and
Britt started to work trying to clean the large mark from the middle of his
chest. The feel of defined pecs and abs were not lost to her, even through the
shirt’s thick cotton, and even despite her self-conscious panic.

Andre caught her wrists and smiled, instantly stilling her
frenzied motion. “It’s okay. I have plenty more shirts. This one was old. I
wear it when I’m working around the house. Honest.”

“If that’s what you wear to work around your house, I’d love
to see what you wear to go out to dinner,” she mumbled, not intending for him
to hear.

“I’d like that, too.”

She jerked her hands away and cupped them over her mouth,
rag and all. “Oh, God! I didn’t think you’d hear that.” Dropping them and
wringing the rag like she wished she could wring her own neck, she stammered,
“I’ve been drinking wine. I can’t be held responsible for what comes out of my
mouth.”

He pulled on his shirt, which had begun to adhere to his
chest and stomach like a second skin—which she appreciated—and smiled.

“Come to think of it, I can’t control my hands very well
after a couple of glasses, either.”

“I’m not complaining.” He winked. “I don’t know many guys
who would object to a beautiful woman with out-of-control hands.”

Oh my God! He’s flirting with me!
She shivered as his
white-hot gaze slid down her body, then slowly crept back up to her face.

“Okay, you two! You’re killing me here.” Mary sounded about
as flustered as Britt felt but hid it well. She pulled Britt’s arm, practically
dragging her to the couch. “If you don’t get your hands under control soon,
I’ll be forced to tie them.”

When Andre’s expression turned wicked-sexy, and sure she was
going to melt into a puddle, Britt forced herself to look away. A few naughty
comebacks shot to her mind, but she forced herself to remain mute. It was a lot
safer that way. She had a feeling Andre played in a whole different league from
her—in more ways than one—and although she was more than a little intrigued,
she was also a tiny bit intimidated.

Mary eased the tension by shoving the nearly forgotten
cardboard box in her hands. “Here. I’m dying.”

Me too, but not for the same reason.

“Will you finally open this?”

“Gladly.” Britt fought through the packing tape and pulled a
smaller box out of the plain brown one. This one was emblazoned with, among
other things, the words “Private Games” across the top. “What is this?” She
read the top then the sides. “Some kind of board game? Why would my mother buy
me this?”

“Haven’t you heard of it? It’s all the rage. It’s a…” Mary
cleared her throat. “…well, kind of a dating game. I read about it on the ‘net.
Your mom and I thought it would be the perfect gift.”

“Oh, really?” Britt tried not to sound too insulted. “What
do I need a dating game for? I’m doing just fine, thank you.” Utterly
embarrassed, she refused to look in Andre’s direction.

“Oh, quit being such a spoilsport! I know you better than
that. Let’s have a look.” Mary pulled the box out of Britt’s hands and lifted
the top off. “Let’s pull a card.”

“How about we don’t?” Britt suggested, catching Mary’s
suddenly busy hands. She motioned with her eyes toward Andre.

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Mary set the game on the coffee table and
dropped her hands back in her lap. “It was a silly idea. I confess.” She gave
an exaggerated sigh. “My love life is in the pits and I wanted the game for
myself.”

Britt hazarded a look at Andre, not surprised to catch him
grinning with disbelief. To his credit, he kept his thoughts to himself.

He drained the rest of his glass and made a good show out of
stretching and yawning. “Well, ladies, thanks for the nightcap. I think I’ll
head home now and hit the hay early. Tomorrow, I’m rebuilding the front porch
on the old homestead. Want to get started early, since we’re supposed to get
some rain later.” He stood and smiled down at Britt, staring hungrily at her
cleavage. “Thanks again for the wine, and the fun.” He leaned lower and his
tongue darted out, moistening his lips. “Happy birthday, Britt.”

This is it! By God, he is going to kiss me!
She
wetted her lips, closed her eyes, and waited, breathless.

A chaste kiss warmed her cheek.

What was that? The guy practically ravages me visually,
kills me with those eyes, and then gives me a peck on the cheek?
“Goodnight, Andre,” she forced out, following him to the front door. “Thanks
for bringing over my gift.”

“No problem. See you later.” He left.

Mary and Britt stared at each other for a moment then Britt
shrugged as she shut the front door and returned to the living room. “Was he a
bundle of confusing signals, or what?”

“No, I think his interest in you was obnoxiously obvious.”

“Yeah, but at the same time it wasn’t. I got mixed signals.
He must be a player, giving me those kinds of crazy signals to string me
along,” Britt thought aloud.

“He’s a sexy one, that’s for sure. And there’s a little hint
of something in his eyes.”

“You saw that, too?”

“Yeah. A touch of Bad Boy.” Mary sat forward and picked up
the game again, sifting through its contents. “For the heck of it, what about
pulling one of these cards?”