Wanting Wilder (21 page)

Abruptly he finished with the ropes and pulled away. She followed his progress as he crossed the room, and she watched him fish around in a drawer that looked like a file cabinet. She didn’t recognize the contraption he lifted out. He messed around with it, grabbed a few more things, and returned.

She studied the device he set on the table in front of her. It looked like a black leather oval had been cut in half through the part with the shortest radius. She estimated it to be about fifteen inches high. A six-inch-long fleshy pink dildo protruded from the top. A shorter, matching arm curved from the front of the phallus, tilting up to form a platform coated with thin plastic ticklers.

It had an electrical cord with a three-pronged plug. That meant powerful vibrations. Lydia stared at it. She had specified no penetration, but she didn’t want him to follow that rule. Not now. Their relationship had evolved, and she wanted this acknowledgment that it had deepened, that she meant something more. She craved a Dom with the balls to call her on the strict limits she’d set. Or a man who cared enough to ask if she wanted to renegotiate.

He disappeared behind her, and she felt her yoga pants slide until they bunched around her ankles, joining the ropes holding her in place. He banded his arm around her waist, lifted her effortlessly, and slid the machine between her legs.

Then he squeezed a good amount of lube from a bottle onto his hand. Lydia closed her eyes and enjoyed the too-brief sensation of his fingers massaging it over her clit. His wrist brushed against her thigh as he coated the attachments.

Finally he guided her hips down until the tip nudged her entrance. He held her there. She hovered just above certain pleasure. His breath tickled her neck. “When I let go, you’re going to ride this thing. You will not come. If you stop, if you pause at all, I will paddle that luscious ass of yours until you’re doing exactly what I want you to do. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded. He let her go, and she lowered herself gently onto the thing.

While he allowed her that consideration, he didn’t let her get used to the feel of it stretching her intimate muscles. He used inhuman speed to hook up the extension cord. Then he flipped the switch. Vibrations shook her entire pelvic region. They rocked her pussy, inside and out. They licked against her clit and stimulated her ass. The tingles even made it all the way to her breasts, mingling with the feelings already there courtesy of the ropes.

The sharp crack of the paddle jolted her from analyzing the new sensations. She thrust her hips forward in response. He brought it down on her tender flesh again, but she’d assumed a rhythm by then. He’d primed her well, and an orgasm wasn’t far off.

She rocked slowly, trying to hold it off, but she lost the battle. Strong and unrelenting, it took her hard. She cried out, and her rhythm faltered. Though they lacked much power, three more sharp smacks brought her mind back from the edge of oblivion. She fought through the trembling to banish the weakness in her thighs, and she resumed fucking the vibrating machine.

He tried to slip a mask over her eyes. She fought, tossing her head to get it away from him. She didn’t want her sight taken. She wanted to see him. She needed to see him, to know she somehow affected him. He twisted her nipple hard, and she protested through her gag. It was punishment, but she craved this pain and strict discipline. As long as he continued to mete out consequences, he wouldn’t leave her.

And she reveled in the riot of sensation ricocheting through her body. She craved his firm hand and gentle touch.

In the second it took her to process the pain in her nipple, he secured the mask over her eyes. She screeched in protest, but the gag turned her sound into a moan. She thrashed and struggled. He hadn’t tied her to anything, and now he sought to remedy that mistake. If she’d cooperated, it wouldn’t have been necessary. The position could be confining if she behaved.

But she didn’t want to behave. She wanted to push him to punish her until he couldn’t resist the sight of her, bound and helpless, wearing evidence of his dominance. She wanted to snap the iron control that helped him keep his cock in his pants.

He stood on the platform next to her, his thighs brushing against her shoulder and head. All too soon, he attached the pole through her arms to chains in the ceiling. She lost the ability to move from side to side. He’d left her with only the mobility to fuck the machine between her legs. She wanted him between her legs, pounding into her without mercy, leaving no doubt in either of their minds that she belonged to him. Only him.

The next orgasm took her just as hard, but her attention was elsewhere. He’d begun double flogging her front side. The falls fell on her constantly, giving no respite, no chance to think about anything. He whipped her breasts and pussy. The leather kissed from her thighs to her nipples, and the powerful vibrations rocketed her up the side of that cliff.

She moaned as another orgasm built. Completely lacking control, she couldn’t fight it. The darkness, which usually brought comfort, made her feel so alone. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she came again.

The whips stopped, but nothing else changed. With relentless cruelty, the vibrating thing kept doing its job.

WILDER LEANED AGAINST the fireplace surround. The smooth marble cooled his back for a few minutes before his body heat negated the effect. He wanted to close his eyes, to block the erotic sight of Lydia riding the sybian. He’d ordered her not to come, but she had climaxed spectacularly three times. The vision, burned into his brain, would haunt him for the rest of his life. Closing his eyes only brought the image of her riding him with as much enjoyment and enthusiasm.

He’d already broken several of her hard limits, and he felt like the biggest jerk on the planet. But she hadn’t signaled him to stop. As he watched, he wondered if she didn’t signal a halt because she wanted this or because she was afraid she’d lose her job. Even though he’d informed her that their activities wouldn’t affect her job one way or another, he couldn’t be sure she believed him. The line of trust between them was tenuous at best.

What if she is only putting up with this because she’s afraid of losing her job?
Fuck. He ought to be shot.

She stiffened with the force of another orgasm and lifted off the machine a little. If he had faith that she craved this kind of treatment, he would force her to have a few more. Since he didn’t, he turned the machine off, lifted her off it, and untied the ropes. He slid the mask off and let it drop to the platform.

He sat her on his lap and held her as she sagged against him. The warmth of her body penetrated his clothes and satisfied part of his longing. The sweet scent of her sweat and cream combined with whatever strawberry product she used, chasing away that contentment.

He stroked her hair because he couldn’t help himself. It calmed the storm of doubt and desire raging inside, but it didn’t chase it away.

When her trembling ceased and her chest heaved with a sigh, he pushed her forward and set her on her feet. “Go get cleaned up, and then I’ll take you to work.”

She blinked at him, her eyes widening the tiniest bit. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

He watched her walk down the hall until she disappeared into her bedroom. Then he cleaned the equipment, put it back, and took an icy shower.

Within an hour, she appeared in the kitchen wearing a light orange pantsuit. She didn’t say much on the drive to work, but his grunted responses didn’t exactly encourage conversation. He escorted her to her office, but he didn’t go inside. When she glanced back at him with questions brimming in her eyes, he crossed his arms in what he hoped was a forbidding manner.

“I’ll leave you to work. I have some things to do.” Without waiting for her response, he hightailed it out of there.

LYDIA WATCHED THE figurative dust settle in the vacuum left by Wilder’s speedy departure. Every part of her body ached from Wilder’s attentions, yet she felt none of the security that discipline usually brought. He had barely said a word to her, not that it mattered. She was too chicken to question him about anything important. The answers just might shatter her.

She buried her unease and spent the day meeting with her development team. Oasis didn’t believe in working alone. Five people were assigned to each wish. At any given time, they juggled between four and six wishes. A core committee of three was in charge of the logistics, and that was where Lydia worked. A manager and a security specialist rounded out the team, though they only sat in on meetings at the beginning when cases were chosen and vetted, and again at the end when everything was finalized.

Micah stopped by after lunch. He made nervous small talk for a few minutes, and then he excused himself from the room. That strange encounter did nothing to put her at ease.

Toward closing time and during a rare moment alone, she looked up to find Wilder leaning against the doorjamb. He wore loose-fitting faded jeans and a tight black long-sleeved shirt with some kind of white, etched tribal design ringing the middle. He hadn’t been wearing that when they left the house late that morning.

Strands of light brown hair fell over his forehead and brushed against his eyebrow. One thumb was hooked through a belt loop. He held a manila envelope in his other hand.

Her stomach tightened, squeezing into the size and consistency of a pebble. She smiled and hoped her fear didn’t show. “Hi.” She didn’t use his title, hoping with all her heart he would punish her for the omission.

He dropped his gaze and scratched his shoulder, a nervous gesture that wiped her smile away. Then he took a deep breath and crossed to where she sat. He tossed the envelope down in front of her.

“Keys to a company car. Paperwork closing out your nonwish. Your address is already programmed into the GPS. If you forget how to get home, just push the button, and it’ll tell you where to go. I’ve already removed my things from your apartment. The keys are in the envelope as well.”

She looked at the envelope but didn’t reach for it. He’d returned her rental car over a week ago. The bulky part toward the right was probably the keys. The lump in her throat paralyzed most of her body. She couldn’t lift her arms, but she could flex her toes. She curled them, clenching them like fists.

“I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?” She lifted her gaze to face his answer. She needed to know why, just when she thought they might have a chance at something more, he had shifted gears.

He shook his head and pursed his lips. He didn’t look up when he spoke. “No. You didn’t have a clear wish. This was meant to be an orientation. It got out of hand. I’m sorry.”

The apology took her by surprise, as did his detached demeanor.
It got out of hand?
That kind of slap in the face didn’t usually come without some warning. She stiffened, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. “Wow. ‘It got out of hand.’ You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe I thought you were different.”

Ruddy pink flushed his cheeks and neck. “I know. I’m sorry. I know it’ll take some time, but I’m hoping one day we can put this behind us and be friends.”

Oh, the friend speech. How nice. How quaint. For a moment she wished she collected snow globes just to lob one at his head. Gathering her fractured dignity, she rose to her feet and pointed to the door. “I don’t see that happening. Please leave.”

* * * *

It took two days for her head to stop feeling like it was full of cotton. When she came out of her funk, she embraced the anger and took a sledgehammer to the white coffee table in the living room.

Chapter Ten

Wilder watched the image sharpen before his eyes. Using thirty-five-millimeter film might be old-fashioned, but he liked doing it the way his father had taught him. Growing up, he’d spent hours in the darkroom at his parents’ house, nursing images along until they were perfect. He could replicate the same photo with a digital camera and a computer, but he didn’t want to give up something he so enjoyed, something that brought back vivid memories of time spent with the most important man in his life.

At times like this, he could almost imagine his father with him, a presence he could barely see in the dim red light. What would his father say now, if he knew Wilder had busted through his sub’s hard limits? His father, who had taught him that a hard limit was just another way a partner said
no.

No.

Not that.

And he hadn’t listened. He’d given in to his urges, completely disregarding her limits.

“
A Dom’s number one job is to take care of his sub
.”

So many lessons. Those, of course, had come later. When he was younger, the morals had been more general.

“
If you’re going to bother doing something, do it well
.”

“
Treat people with respect, and that’s how they’ll treat you
.”

Despite the clear image of Lydia elegantly bound in white ropes that contrasted spectacularly with her caramel skin and the serene expression on her face, he saw nothing but the hurt and shock that had finally manifested when he did the right thing and put an end to their facsimile of a relationship. It was better to get that out in the open so she could process it and move on. The faster she got over the way he’d disrespected her, the better off she’d be.

The incessant chiming of his doorbell pulled him from the downward spiral. Someone was pressing the damn button over and over. Probably Everett. His brother didn’t seem to care that Wilder needed some time off.

He hung the photo to dry, washed his hands, and made his way upstairs. By the time he got there, he’d resolved to disable the doorbell. He disengaged the dead bolt and yanked open the door. Cool air mixed with warm, and the glass of the storm door began to fog.

“What do you want?”

Everett, dressed in jeans and a brown leather flight jacket, grinned and hit the doorbell one last time. “You’ve been shut away in this house for over a week. I miss you.”