Blank Canvas-epub (5 page)

“Oh fuck yeah.” Caliph was out of the car and opening her door between one blink of the eye and the next. He reached down to help her out, wrapping her in his huge embrace. She recalled building a tent as a child, tying the corners of a big blanket to the four posts of her bed. She’d huddle beneath it in the darkness, soaking up the warmth and security of her snug hiding spot. Caliph’s hug reminded her of that place, bringing back sensations of being safe and happy.

Neither of them spoke when he loosened his grip, taking her hand to lead her into his small house. It reminded her of the man—simple, straightforward. His yard was neatly trimmed, the porch clean, freshly painted.  When he opened the door and turned on the light, she admired the cozy warmth of his home. Family portraits covered the wall of his living room.

“Want a tour?” he offered.

She shook her head. There would be time for that later. Maybe. “No.” She let that one word tell him exactly what she wanted.

Caliph tightened his grip on her hand and tugged her down a narrow hallway and straight into his bedroom.

“Take off your clothes.”

The quick demand would have freaked out old Jennifer, but the woman Caliph was helping her discover was beyond modesty.

She unbuttoned her blouse, shrugging it over her shoulders without hesitance. Caliph didn’t join her in disrobing. Instead he ate her alive with his eyes, and amazingly, he appeared to like what he saw. Marcus had pointed out the fact that she’d let herself go, that she’d gained a few pounds, as yet another reason he’d wanted out. She shoved that memory away. The bastard had no place here tonight. She wasn’t going to let him cast his miserable shadow on one minute of this.

Jennifer toed off her shoes, then unzipped her skirt. Her actions slowed. Despite her attempts to hold on to her newfound confidence, she found it wavering.

Caliph stepped closer. “You’re beautiful. Perfect. Take off the skirt.”

She reacted without thought—as the skirt, her panties, and even her bra fell away with ease—until she stood before him completely naked. Jennifer resisted the urge to close her eyes, to hide before she could see his response. She wasn’t thin and she sure as hell wasn’t young.

“Turn around,” Caliph demanded.

Since entering the room, she’d noticed the change in his demeanor. Her gentle giant had disappeared, replaced by this commanding, sexy-as-sin man. Every order he issued sent shivers of excitement down her spine.

Jennifer spun a half turn, then paused, letting him look his fill. Facing away from him gave her the freedom to relax, to stop working overtime to shield her expressions. She scrunched her eyes closed tightly and prayed.

Please don’t let him be disgusted like Marcus. Please.

She jerked slightly when Caliph’s hands landed on her shoulders. “Dammit, Jen. Stop that.”

Her eyelids flew open and that was when she noticed the mirror in front of her. So much for playing it cool.

She captured his gaze in the reflection, forced herself to face what she’d been afraid to see.

“What were you thinking about?”

She didn’t bother to lie. “Marcus. He didn’t care for my looks.”

His fingers stroked her shoulders, drawing circles on her skin. “He doesn’t have any place here. He was an idiot and a fool. His loss. My gain.”

She smiled, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, fighting to hold back the tears threatening to fall. God. She’d told him she was broken. Falling apart and crying like a baby in his arms would only drive that point home.

She wouldn’t do it. Jennifer took a deep breath, then turned around to face him. “Do I get to see you naked?”

He cupped her cheeks and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Their first kiss. Like everything about him, it washed away her preconceived notions of how a man who looked like Caliph would kiss. It was soft and warm, nothing scary or rough.

“Go sit on the bed.”

More commands. When she considered their conversations—few though there had been—she realized almost everything he’d ever asked of her had been worded as a demand, rather than a request. And yet that didn’t bother her. Didn’t send her hackles up like it would whenever Marcus tried to tell her what to do.

In fact, Caliph’s orders made her hot, made her melt inside. She walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge to watch as he treated her to her own private striptease.

Once Caliph removed his shirt, Jennifer was able to finally see the whole picture of his tattoos, rather than the half peeks she’d glimpsed at the shop and tonight.

“Wow,” she whispered, rising from the bed. She walked over, compelled to add touch to sight. She ran her fingers over every beautiful work of art on his chest, his arms. Stepping around him, she stroked the large tree that covered his back, her eyes discovering the clever way he’d incorporated the names of his brothers and sisters into the branches and leaves. It reinforced what she’d learned at the jazz club earlier. Family was very important to him. That thought touched her.

Her grandmother had always told her when she was younger to look at how a man treated his mother because that offered a clue about how he would treat his wife. Figures that pearl of wisdom reappeared now—two decades too late. Marcus barely spoke to his mother. Then she considered what a shame it was that Caliph didn’t believe in marriage. Given his undeniable love for his mother, she suspected he’d shower a wife in adoration.

“You’ve gone quiet back there.” Caliph’s deep voice drew her from her thoughts.

“Just admiring the artwork. It’s amazing.”

He turned to look at her, smiling. “I was worried it might be a bit too much for you.”

She shook her head. For old Jennifer, yeah. The image of so much ink would have intimidated and freaked her out a bit. Triggered all those stupid stereotypes she suddenly hated. Now she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything more beautiful. “Not at all.”

“Good. Then I’m going for broke.” He slid off his shoes, unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the floor. Caliph went commando.

Her gaze drifted lower. Her subconscious acknowledged the tats on his legs, but Caliph’s fully erect cock overshadowed them.

“Whoa.”

Caliph chuckled, taking her hand and wrapping it around his thick girth. He kept his grip on hers as he guided her strokes along his hard flesh.

“How long has it been?”

She searched for an answer, trying to calculate months…and then years. Finally, she said, “Too long.”

“Don’t move.” He stepped away from her, quickly pulling a drop cloth from under his bed. She watched as he stripped away the soft comforter, replacing it with the cloth.

“Are we painting or something?” she asked.

He looked over his shoulder at her and winked. “Oh yeah. Art class is about to begin.” He returned to her and kissed her briefly once more.

“Go lie on the bed. On your back.”

Moment of truth. Thank God.

She assumed the position, expecting Caliph to join her, to crawl over her body and give her exactly what she’d been longing for.

Instead, he walked away from the bed, dragging a box from the closet.

She started to ask what he was doing, but something about his demeanor told her to remain silent. Again, she was struck by his dominance, his complete control over his body and tonight’s adventure. He was clearly ready to roll if his hard-on was anything to go by.

Jennifer was very familiar with the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am style of sex. It had been Marcus’ forte, but Caliph didn’t appear to be in a hurry to do the deed. Instead, he was drawing out the experience, ramping up her desires with anticipation. It was a deadly concept. And freaking hot.

After years of lackluster, predictable sex, the appeal of not knowing what was going to happen was cranking up her arousal, making it hard for her not to find her clit with her own fingers to grant herself some measure of relief.

Caliph approached the bed. “I said I wouldn’t tie you up and I won’t. But I need you to lie perfectly still, Jen. Keep your arms and legs where I put them without moving. Can you do that?”

She had no idea, but she damn well intended to try. She nodded.

“Your safe word is daisy.”

It was perfect. He’d picked the one word that would remind her she was in control. That she was strong.

“Daisy,” she repeated, blinking once more against the tears forming. God. She wasn’t sad, wasn’t scared, yet she felt the uncontrollable urge to crawl into a ball and cry her heart out. What was wrong with her? She was exactly where she wanted to be, doing something she’d never dreamed she’d have the courage to try.

Hello basket case.

Caliph reached into the box and pulled out a candle. She ran through his list of kinks. Wax play. She’d read about it. Knew the hot wax would hurt, but that pain could morph into something even hotter inside. She wanted to experience it and she had no doubt Caliph could make it good for her.

He didn’t pause in his preparations as he removed several different colored candles from the box, then a lighter. He set them up on his nightstand, lighting each one. Once he was ready, he tossed the empty box in a corner and turned back to her.

He leaned over the bed, one of his knees landing on the mattress by her hip. Lifting her arms, he placed her hands beside her head on the pillow. The position was one of pure surrender. Her heart raced as fear, anticipation, and need all morphed together until it took every ounce of strength in her body not to pull Caliph on top of her and force him inside her.

“I’m not sure I can do this.”

Caliph frowned, concern in his dark brown eyes. “If it’s too much, too painful—”

“No, it’s not that. I’m so fucking horny. I don’t think I can wait.”

His face cleared, replaced with a grin so genuine and mischievous, she knew she’d just sealed her own fate. Caliph was going to drag this out, there was no denying it. He’d play with her until she begged and even then, she suspected he wouldn’t give in.

“You’re not going to take it easy on me, are you?” she asked.

He shook his head as he moved lower on the mattress. “No.” He grasped her knees and pulled her legs apart. “I’m not.”

She glanced down and saw her ankles were lined up perfectly with the bottom posts on his bed. Part of her was sorry she’d taken bondage off the table. If it turned out tonight was all she got, she’d regret missing out on that experience.

Maybe a compromise.

“Could you tie just my legs?” With her hands free, she could still escape the bonds, though she knew she wouldn’t try.

Caliph studied her face, not bothering to hide his pleasure at her request. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Please.”

He reached toward the foot of the bed, pulling up straps that had been tucked beneath the mattress.

“Seriously?” she asked when she realized the ties were already secured to the poles.

“Never claimed to be a choirboy.”

She let her gaze travel over his chest and erection. “Believe me, that thought never entered my mind.”

He tickled the bottom of her feet as he strapped her ankles to the bed. She was grateful for the reason to giggle, otherwise sheer panic would have taken over.

Once she was tied in place, he crawled over her body, remaining above her on all fours. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Say your word and the straps come off.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to say it. I trust you.”

He gave her a crooked grin, then bent to kiss her. This time, the kid gloves came off. His lips pressed against hers roughly, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth. She opened and returned the kiss.

Twice she started to lift her hands from the pillow, wanting to wrap them around his neck, to hold him tight to her. Both times, Caliph issued a warning growl. The deep timbre of his voice made her wet and hot and achy. The kiss was intense. Primal. Passionate.

He broke off the connection to kneel on the bed, reaching for a bottle of mineral oil. He squirted some on his hands, then began to rub it into her skin. The sexy massage did little to relax her. Instead, it had the opposite effect, firing off a whole new set of needs. Every part of her body was awake, alert, aware. Aroused. She felt as if she was coming unhinged as her pussy clenched continually, seeking penetration.

After several minutes—that seemed like years—he lifted his hands. “Ready to get started?”

She snorted. “Dear God. What have we been doing the past half hour?”

“Preliminaries. Prepping the area. Getting ready to add the design, then the color.”

Tattoo-speak. Before her turn in his chair on Tuesday, she wouldn’t have understood the allusion. “So now what? You draw?”

He nodded. “Yep. Time for some art.”

He rose from the bed, strode across the room to turn off the overhead light, then returned and lifted one of the lit candles. “How much do you know about wax play?”

“Next to nothing.”

He looked at her face and she wondered what he saw there. “You want a brief lesson? Wanna know about the wax, temperatures, stuff like that?”

“Nope. Don’t give a shit. For the first time in my life, I think I’d prefer experience over education.”

“Yeah. That sealed it. Your one-night stand just became a weekend. You up for it?”

She laughed quietly. “Guess it all depends on how you stick the landing.”

“Is that right?” Caliph cut her laugh short when he tilted the candle, allowing a large splash of wax to hit her nipple.

“Fuck.” She lifted her hands, intent on wiping the painful substance away, but Caliph narrowed his eyes in warning.

Slowly, she forced them back to the pillow. “I think it would be easier if my hands were bound too.”

Caliph moved the candle over to her other breast. Jennifer sucked in a deep breath and held it, preparing herself. His second splash of hot liquid hit its mark as well, coating her nipple in white. She clenched her fists, but kept her hands in place.

“I would have thought you’d realized I’m not going for easy, Jen. This weekend is all about pushing your limits, driving you wild.”

It was poised on the tip of her tongue to call him a bastard when he placed another large splash of the red-hot liquid on her stomach.