Uncollared (12 page)

She made free with olive oil, vinegar, and the other contents of his cupboard while Chess made sure the pasta didn’t overcook.

Once they prepared everything, they ate and chatted companionably. The glow of wine and Chess’s small talk made Mia feel completely at ease.

So he startled her when he suddenly asked, “How did you and Philip meet?”

Hearing Philip’s name sent a sliver of hurt through her. But the pain wasn’t as sharp as it once was. Like a bruise it faded bit by bit and hurt less every day. “At a fund-raiser. My friend Ronni volunteers for A Better Tomorrow. That’s an organization that helps older foster children find permanent families.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, they were having a little carnival kind of thing to raise money, and I told her I’d help out. I was selling tickets to the different games and that’s where I met Philip. He manned the booth with me. I later discovered that he’d made a very substantial donation to the group.”

Chess nodded. “That’s Philip. He’s very generous to local causes, but he’s also very discreet. Never tries to make it about him.”

“We had such a good time chatting and watching the kids enjoy themselves. I felt immediately attracted to him—there’s something about him that’s just so…”

“Powerful,” Chess put in as she searched for the right word.

Mia nodded. “Yes. But not in an overbearing or pushy way. I felt so sad saying good-bye to him that evening, thinking I would never see him again. But he surprised me a few days later when he called and asked me to dinner.”

“A lot of his friends were worried when they learned he was seeing you. You’re so much younger. People were afraid you were a gold digger.”

Mia frowned. “I had no idea he was so well off. Anyway, that never mattered to me.” She paused a moment, peering at him. “Did
you
think I was a gold digger?”

“No. Once I’d seen you with Philip and saw how you looked at him, I knew you weren’t after his money. But I was curious about you. We all were, all his friends. You were the first woman we’d seen him with since his wife died.”

“Elaine.”

“He told you about her?”

“He mentioned her, yes. But he never really… Did you know her well? What was she like?” Mia was suddenly hungry to know.

“Oh, she was an amazing woman. Lovely looking, but more than that, a beautiful person. Kind and loving, generous—just the kind of woman you’d imagine Philip being with. She was very active in local charities, especially those involving children.”

“But they never had any children themselves…”

“No, although from what I understand, they would have loved them. It just never happened. I think Elaine took that particularly hard. She’d have been a wonderful mother.”

Mia felt a wave of sadness as Chess spoke about Elaine. Philip had never shared these things with her. She now recognized just how much of his life he’d kept from her, and how much she’d never thought to ask. “How did you get to know them?”

“Philip was actually a friend of my father’s. In a way, he was a surrogate uncle to me, and Elaine was like an aunt. My parents and I spent a lot of time in their home; they were practically family. And they were tremendous support when my parents died.”

Mia spoke softly. “When did you lose them?”

“My mom when I was nineteen, my father just a few years ago. And not too long after that, Philip lost Elaine. How he grieved. He truly loved that woman.”

Yes, he did. Loved her so much that he never discussed her with Mia. Elaine was too special, too precious to be shared.

“Did he introduce you to…the lifestyle? Club Restraint?” Mia asked.

“Actually, no.” Chess gave her a rueful smile. “I found Restraint on my own. I’d been aware of my dominant tendencies for a while. You can imagine my surprise when I found Philip there. Along with his sub.”

There was a moment of silence as Mia made the connection. “You mean…”

“Yes. Elaine was not just his wife, but his submissive. You were the only other woman he ever brought to the club.”

She didn’t know how to respond.

“You honestly didn’t know that?” Chess asked.

Mia shook her head, in a daze. “No.”

“You never played with BDSM before Philip?”

Her face grew warm. “No.” His steady gaze unnerved her. Needing to escape it, she began to rise from her chair. “Let me help you clean up.”

“Sit down. I’m not finished.” Mia didn’t know if he meant his meal or his line of questioning. But his tone brooked no argument.

“So you never felt any inclinations…?”

“Philip never forced me into anything.” She had to speak up so Chess wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

“Of course not, Mia. Don’t forget, he’s my friend. I know that’s not his style. You don’t need to defend him to me.”

“There were times in my life when I’d just wish I could turn it all off. Stop thinking, stop worrying, stop believing that it all depended on me. Just put it on someone else’s shoulders for a while. Philip just seemed to tune in to that. He knew how to take it all away. When I submitted, my only concern was obeying him. Nothing else mattered. I could just…
be
.”

She glanced his way hesitantly, and Chess nodded in understanding. “You felt safe with him.”

Safe
. Yes. “He made me feel special.”

“Appreciated,” Chess said.

“Yes.” In her head, Philip’s voice echoed.
“You’re beautiful, Bella Mia.”

“You deserve appreciation. For what you do every day. Wrestling with the bureaucracy, trying to help people. For stepping up to help your family after Grandma Carlino died.”

“It was hard on Mom, working all those hours to take care of us.” And when she came home, she was tired and impatient. No, there wasn’t much appreciation for Mia trying to keep the house straight and her siblings in line. Mia felt she never did enough, no matter how hard she tried.

Chess smiled and patted her hand. “You load the dishwasher, and I’ll put the leftovers away.”

She was glad to get busy and stop thinking. She’d almost finished her job when she noticed a couple of utensils on the island countertop where she’d prepared the salad. They looked clean, and she couldn’t remember using them.

“Should I—”

“Don’t touch that,” he commanded as her hand hovered over the wooden spoon. Mia froze.

Calmly, he closed the dishwasher door and strolled to the sink. “You were a bad girl today, Ruffles.”

A zing of apprehension and anticipation shot through her.

He raised his voice a bit so he could be heard over the running water as he washed his hands. “You disrespected me several times. Are you aware of that?”

“I—”

“Quiet. I don’t want to hear a word out of you.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Put your hands flat on the countertop.”

Mia obeyed wordlessly, her flesh prickling with goose bumps. In their time together, Master Philip only praised her. He’d never told her she was
bad
. Why did her pulse skyrocket when Chess said it? She couldn’t understand her reactions.

He took a dishtowel from a low drawer near the sink and dried his hands, eyeing her. His expression was one of weary disappointment. He tossed the towel aside and ticked off her transgressions on his fingers.

“First of all, you got uppity about how I make meatballs.”

Mia opened her mouth to defend herself, but Chess held up a warning finger. “Not. A. Word.”

“Then, you get in a little dig in about my ancestry because I’m only Italian on my mother’s side. Bad, Ruffles. Very, very bad. I am deeply disappointed in you.”

But he didn’t look disappointed, with one corner of his mouth hitched up in a crooked grin. He looked smug.

Mia’s fingers flexed on the counter. Her gaze drifted to the wooden spoon. Beside it lay a large, shiny spatula. Her eyes grew wide as she realized what was coming.

“Bend over the counter.”

Mia now knew what the cliché “her heart in her throat” meant, because it truly felt as though that organ was lodged there, pumping madly, keeping her from speech and barely allowing her breath.

As though she had questioned him, he said, “You heard me.”

Mia obeyed, her hands still flat on the granite countertop. Chess moved as smoothly as a cat to stand behind her, slightly to the side. His hip barely brushed hers. She felt his heat and hardness.

“You know what happens to bad girls, don’t you?” he murmured. “They get punished.” He gently played with her hair as he spoke, toying with the strands at her nape.

Mia trembled, bracing her arms on the counter.

“Now I know nowadays it’s all the rage to have time-outs and naughty chairs, but I’m old-school, Ruffles. I go by the saying ‘Spare the rod and spoil the sub.’”

Without warning the flat of his hand landed on her ass. Mia jerked. “Uhn!” It was a cry of surprise rather than pain.

He smoothed the area he’d just smacked. Mia was still processing the first slap when the second one came, on the other butt cheek. The loud
crack
startled her more than the blow itself. It didn’t hurt terribly, just a mild sting through the fine wool of her slacks.

Chess rubbed her butt again where he’d administered the spank. Warmth radiated from his touch.

She wobbled a bit and tried to steady herself as she seesawed between expectation and alarm. Pinpricks of fear pimpled her skin. She liked what he was doing.

He gave her another spank, in the middle of her buttocks. After that, he peppered her with smacks, always varying his aim so she couldn’t predict what came next. Sometimes he took his time, making her writhe in anticipation and fear as he rubbed her ass and told her what a bad girl she was. Sometimes the spanks came hard and fast, with no time to catch her breath between them.

Chess took the wooden spoon and waved it in front of her face. “Did Grandma Carlino ever use one of these on you?”

Mia blinked at the utensil, her brain muzzy. “No, Sir.”

“No? Why not? Because you were a good girl for her, Ruffles?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then why are you so bad for me?” He swatted her ass with the spoon. It covered a smaller area than his hand and gave a more concentrated sting. After a few more thwacks with the spoon, he tossed it aside, breathing hard. She trembled uncontrollably.

“Stand up.”

She obeyed and startled when he covered one of her hands with his. Her gaze flew to his, and the warmth in his eyes made her tingle down to her toes, in spite of her throbbing butt. Or maybe because of it.

“Unzip your slacks and pull them down.” His voice was thick.

Mia fumbled with the button. She couldn’t undo it—her hands shook too badly.

Chess gently brushed her hands aside, made quick work of the button, and pulled down the zipper. He pushed her slacks and panties down until they bunched around her calves.

Mia felt herself grow creamy as he looked his fill. He grasped a handful of ass cheek and kneaded. “Nice and pink. Hot.” With a hand on the middle of her back, he urged her down again. “Like this. Grab the edge.”

Mia stretched out flat on the counter, curling her fingers around the far edge, her chest pressed against the granite, as her left cheek lay against the cool stone. Her breasts were heavy and achy, her nipples hard pebbles. He touched her with confidence, and she yielded to him easily. She felt calm, as though she were floating on a cool, placid lake. She was safe with him.

She realized the wooden spoon and spatula had been lying there all the time, while they made dinner, while they ate. All the time they’d cooked and chatted, he’d planned this, looking at those utensils and imagining how he’d use them on her.

Knowing that made her even wetter. She bit the inside of her cheek, willing the telltale moisture not to trickle down her thigh.

She jumped at the
thwack
of the hard metal spatula against her butt, then another. One more on her other side. But it wasn’t enough—it wasn’t
him
. Mia wanted his hand.

He must have felt the same frustration, because he groaned, and she heard a clatter as the spatula hit the floor. He massaged her hot butt cheek. “It’s no good, Ruffles. Your skin—it’s so soft. I have to touch you.” He smacked one cheek, smacked the other.

Mia couldn’t help herself. A moan escaped her. “Please…”

He paused, rubbing her ass. “Remember your safe words.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want you to stop. I need to come. Please, Sir.”

“Are you wet for me? Open up. Let me see.” Mia widened her stance as much as she could while one of his hands dipped between her legs. “Ahhh…” He sighed with appreciation as he lifted his fingers to show her the slippery evidence of her arousal. “Beautiful. Stand up.”

As she obeyed, Chess snugged up behind her. The denim of his jeans felt rough and scratchy against her tender ass. He skimmed his right hand down her quivering belly, skated over her shaved pubis, and delved again between her thighs. Mia whimpered and widened her stance.

“Shhh…” he said soothingly. His left hand held her close to him, pressed her back to his front. She rested against his solid chest and felt the hard ridge of his erection pressing at her lower back. “Can you feel me?” He gave a roll of his hips for emphasis. “Can you feel how hard I am for you, Ruffles? That’s what you do to me.”

He let his left hand drift under her blouse and captured a hard nipple poking at her bra, gave it a squeeze. She drew in a hiss of breath as her pussy contracted hungrily and sparks shot through her. Her whole body felt soft and melty. “Ahh…”

He seized her nipple between his index and middle fingers while he cradled and kneaded her cloth-covered breast. He played down below with his other hand, dipping into her slippery wetness, sliding it up and over and around her clit.

He used his first two fingers to skate over her sex lips and slip inside her pussy while his thumb toyed with her clit. Mia curled into his touch. “Ohh…please…”

“All right, Ruffles. You can come.” With his fingers buried in her juicy pussy, he whisked her throbbing clit once more with his thumb.

“Ah…oh…oh…yesss…”