***
When Leonard turned down the wrong street in San Diego, I frowned. “Hey, the hotel’s not over here. I get the idea to be all spontaneous and grab a late dinner or whatever, but I’m really exhausted.”
Drake smirked and wrapped me up tightly with one arm around my shoulder. “We’re not staying at The Westin tonight.”
“Okay, so we’re trying a new place?” I asked.
Leonard pulled up before a high-rise close to the marina. “Actually, chickadee, Drake might have a bit of a surprise for you.”
Intrigued, I took Drake’s proffered arm as he helped me out of the car and waved a quick goodbye to Leonard. We’d catch up tomorrow, of course. He’d give me all the latest gossip on the comings and goings of all the servants who worked for Drake, especially dirt that Mrs. Johnson would be hiding on herself. I heard someone was entering the dating pool again after being a widow for so long. Too bad Leonard was happily married. I always sort of felt those two had a good vibe. Anyway, after I’d bid goodnight to Leonard, I waited patiently for Drake to lead me past the doorman and to the executive elevator—one of those that had to be operated with a special key—to take me up to the top floor.
The elevator opened out to a penthouse-level apartment that had to be close to three thousand square feet. The massive living room and open kitchen were decorated with plush leather furniture, sparkling quartz countertops, and the finest antiques. I gasped at the beauty of it all.
“Is this your place?”
Drake shook his head. “It’s our place. I know that you don’t want me to always be around, as it can hurt your grades. I have business every week I have to deal with in L.A., but I’m not happy with just two weekends a month. Besides, I’ve seen that shitbox you call an apartment. Princess, that whole place is a fire hazard.”
I laughed. “I’m a grad student with loans. It’s what I can afford!”
“It’s probably got rats. Rats carry the plague,” he said with a devilish smile playing on his lips. “Obviously, I’m saving you from contracting the Bubonic Plague and am your hero.”
Crossing over to him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, my tongue lingering over his. “You’re always my hero. Now, what? Are you my roomie?”
“I’m your master,” he said, his voice taking on that low growl that brooked no argument.
Heat flared through my belly, and my heart quickened. “Yes, you are, which reminds me,” I said, leaning close to him and rubbing my nose against his. “Is there a playroom? It’s been a while since we’ve had a session, Master.”
“Are you ready for a negotiation?” he said, his voice rumbling low in his chest.
I nodded and nibbled at his lips, capturing his lower one between my teeth as he liked, eliciting a noise from him that could only be described as feral. “I’m always up for that. Besides, we have to lay out the ground rules on weekends so I don’t fail out of school.”
Drake ran a hand through my hair. “I know a place in the Bahamas. It rehabilitates cute baby seals and dolphins. The guy who owns it can be a bit of a hard ass, but I think you’re a shoe-in.”
I snorted. “I don’t want a handout, Drake. I can do this, and I can be great at it. So, this swanky apartment might be amazing, but consider yourself on a sex diet, mister.”
“I’m going to starve to death! A guy has needs.” He winked at me and led me down the hall to a room locked behind a massive ebony door.
Drake McManus and subtlety were not on a first-name basis with each other.
He pulled out an actual skeleton key and unlocked the door. “After me, princess.”
Dutifully, falling into the spirit of the scene, I followed him into the room. This one was painted a deep scarlet and the bed was a California king, bigger than even the set up in the Bahamas. The walls were decorated with the usual whips, crops, scarves, and ropes. My clit throbbed just to see it and my breath got more frantic.
After over a year with Drake, I craved the BDSM and the play part of our relationship as much as he did, maybe even more. While he needed some control in a life that had been marred by tragedy and the unpredictable—by loss and pain—I needed to submit once in a while. Usually, I argued back against him as good as I got, but the scenes together allowed me to relax, to take on a different role with him than I would or could outside of these four walls.
Away from our sanctuary.
The only new thing in this set up was the St. Andrew’s Cross in the middle of the room. He’d showed me a few online, and I knew he’d thought about getting one, but somehow it still surprised me to see the two blackboards, crossed over each other like a giant “X” in the center of the room.
“Did you have something specific in mind to christen the room, Master?” I asked in a playful voice as I smirked up at him.
“I do, princess,” he said, walking over to a table and pulling out the familiar velvet box. I didn’t realize he’d brought my collar from Los Angeles, but that only made sense. “Present your neck.”
I did as he asked, my hand sweeping my hair up almost automatically at the sound of his voice. “Always.”
He slipped the diamond-studded collar on my neck and clasped it underneath my hairline. Running a hand over the little exposed skin of my throat, he kissed my lips. He tasted of the scotch he’d drunk in the limo but also of cinnamon, of something tangy and burning underneath the surface. There was the sharp hint of his cologne in the air but underlying it all was that tantalizing hint of musk that defined him, so powerful and so utterly male.
When he pulled back, he led me to the cross. “Follow me, princess.”
I leaned against the board, letting my legs straddle out and raising my arms over my head so that he could bind my ankles and wrists to the cross. When he was done, I was naked and spread-eagled before him. My body was upright and waiting for any touch or punishment he cared to dole out.
“Master?” I asked, waiting patiently for him to respond. In the room, it was rare I addressed him first, unless, of course, I was begging.
“What?” he asked, as he slipped off his shirt.
I gasped and reveled in the view, in the way his jeans dipped low on his waist, exposing the deep V of his hips. My eyes traced over his abs at the gorgeous lines and ripples of his eight pack that ended in his thick, well-defined pecs. The scar barely registered anymore, and most of it, even now, was covered by the denim of his jeans. Currently, what I could see was a long, pale line that reared up from his waistline and lingered over his side, drifting lazily over a lower rib. It only served to make him more rugged, especially since I knew the story behind it.
Knew him for the hero he was.
Licking my lips, I couldn’t wait to have him touch me. Everything about his embrace was magic.
“Master,” I started again, “am I being punished?”
“No, princess,” he said, his tone soft and enticing. Drake went back to the table and pulled out a glove. This was a furred one as well but not the soft white of the usual rabbit fur he preferred. Drake sauntered over to me then, like a jungle cat, lean and in control, stalking his prey. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, running the glove over my stomach and then lingering with it over my breasts.
The texture was warm and thick but also almost slick.
“I… no?”
He squeezed my breast. “No, what?”
“No, Master.”
“It’s mink. Pure mink, soft, and waiting for you,” he said, running his gloved hand over my stomach and then the crest of my hips. He stopped with it just over the apex of my thighs and over the curls of hair over my mons. “Do you know why?”
I shook my head.
“Because, princess,” he continued, reaching between my parted legs and teasing the fur over the lips of my labia. I moaned and pulled against my bonds, both frustrating and turned on by my bindings. “You’re a goddess, and you deserve to be worshiped.”
Drake slipped to his knees before me and set the glove down on the floor. With both hands now freed, he ran his lightly calloused palms over my thighs. I mewled at his ministrations, at the caresses. He leaned up and blew on my sensitive lips and the heat teased me, made me desperate for his touch, for the expert stroking of his tongue on my clit.
“Please, Master. I need you.”
He grinned up at me, a look that should be illegal in all fifty states. For all I knew, it already was. “Shh, princess, don’t you know that patience is a virtue?” he said, taking just one finger and parting my folds.
“Oh, God!”
“Oh, I’m better than him,” he said, chuckling and sliding one forefinger into my channel.
Flames seemed to lap at me from my core, a simmering fire starting to flare in my belly and spread through my limbs and my fingers and toes. He slid in and out with that one finger, teasing my slick folds and my core as he did it. But while he had talented, thick fingers, just one wasn’t close to his huge girth.
Staring down at him, looking into those playful chocolate eyes, I begged, “I need more, Master.”
“Do you?” he asked, sliding two more fingers inside. He brought up his other hand to press a broad thumb to my clit. I howled and ground as best against him as I could, frustrated at first that I couldn’t get leverage. “There, princess,” he continued, pressing his thumb tighter against my clit and rubbing it counterclockwise.
I moaned and writhed under his grip, the flames licking at me growing stronger, like a forest fire sweeping through me, tearing down everything in its path until all that existed was the heat and the passion. Closing my eyes, I let the sensations crest over me—the smell of his musk, the ragged panting of my own breath in my ears, the leather of the cross’s arms rubbing against my back.
Time stood still here, until only us and the passion always burning between us existed.
Drake plunged deep inside of me and pressed his thumb just right against my clit. I came then with a force that left me shuddering in my bonds. It was if a can of gasoline had been poured over me and the flames were consuming me whole, like a phoenix burned down to the ashes before being reborn.
I might have passed out just a little.
When I woke, I was curled up in the bed with Drake, who was wiping me off gently with a cool, wet rag. “Welcome back to the world,” he said, his tone betraying his casual posture. There was a hint of worry there.
Rolling my eyes, I leaned up and kissed him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Drake,” I said, rubbing his chest. “We already had one person up on a cross today. You don’t need to join me. I loved it.”
“I didn’t ever make you pass out before.”
“Well, then it was only for a couple minutes, and you should probably be proud of it. Not that the sex hasn’t been great before, but you broke your own record.”
He laughed and kissed me, the scruff of his chin scraping against my tender skin. “What can I say, princess. I’m an animal.”