Commanding Her Trust (9 page)

Or if he did, he obviously didn’t find them repulsive.

“You want the last one?” he asked, pausing with his fork halfway to the last waffle on the plate between them.

“No, thank you.” She sat back in her chair with a contented sigh. “I’m stuffed. I shouldn’t have finished that second one, but I’m a sucker for real maple syrup. Soooo good.”

“Yeah, not like that fake butter-flavored crap we used to eat in high school.” He smiled. “Remember when we fixed the little kids pancakes for dinner?”

Erin nodded, noticing Blake didn’t refer to the other kids by name, either. No matter how much they’d both tried to help the other minors unlucky enough to end up in Phil’s house, they had kept their emotional distance. It was the only way to stay sane when you were underage and helpless to change anyone’s life, including your own.

“They thought it was so cool we were having breakfast for dinner,” she said. “Like it was a special occasion.”

“When really we just didn’t have anything else to feed them.”

“Yeah. Good times.” Erin crossed her legs in her chair and reached for her coffee. “But I’m more interested in hearing some new dirt. I thought you were going to give me the goods on the lifestyles of the rich and famous.”

“I was on a reality show on an arts station.” He shrugged as if he really thought it was no big deal that he’d been on national television every week.

Of course, knowing Blake, he probably
didn’t
think it was a big deal. He’d never wanted to be a star. Not like she had when she was younger and certain she was going to set the modeling world on fire.

Now she’d settle for making a decent living for her and Abby.

Abby.
Her chest tightened miserably every time she thought her sweet baby’s name. It was getting harder to hold the pain at a distance. She sensed it had something to do with Blake and the way he was slowly, but surely, worming his way back into her heart, but she was trying not to think about that too much. If suffering through her miserable marriage had taught her one thing, it was that thinking too far ahead was a good way to make the load you carried too heavy to handle.

“I’d hardly call that famous,” Blake continued, cutting his waffle into smaller squares. “Probably more people know your name than mine.”

She lifted a dubious brow. “Highly doubtful.”

“From what I hear, your picture was on half the billboards in L.A.”

“That was almost two years ago.” She shook her head, remembering how bizarre it had been to see herself blown up ten feet tall. “In Los Angeles time that’s eons ago. I’m old news.”

“You’re still the featured model on the Damned Naughty Web site.”

She shrugged as she swirled her last drink of coffee in a circle at the bottom of her cup. “I’m sure that’s just because they’ve been too lazy to change the template. My body is part of the banner.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it,” he said, his voice dropping half a register. “That red corset thing is…very nice.”

Erin laughed. “Thank you, but stop trying to change the subject. I want to hear about you.”

“Me.” He sighed as he scooted his chair back and began to gather up the breakfast dishes. He hadn’t served her on his hands and knees like he’d promised, but he had cooked, set the table, and motioned for her to stay seated as he continued cleaning up.

A Dominant man who didn’t mind serving as well as being served. She’d never dreamed such a person existed, and knew she’d be falling for Blake even if this were the first time they’d ever met.

“Let’s see,” he said as he set the dirty plates in the sink. “After high school, I did the part-time tattoo artist, part-time bouncer thing. I built up a nice portfolio in the first six months and started planning my move to Reno.”

“Just like you said you would.” She smiled, but it felt sad on her face. “Good for you.”

“But then I got an offer to move to Vegas and work as a bouncer for some new club,” he said. “They were looking for a certain type and I fit the bill.”

She lifted a brow as she watched the powerful man her high school love had become stride back toward the table. “The tall, sexy, scary type?”

“Something like that.” His lips quirked as he poured himself another cup of coffee and then refilled her cup before easing back into his chair. “So you think I’m sexy?”

“No, I’ve been faking all those orgasms,” she said with a wink.

His lip quirk became a smile. “You’re an excellent actress.”

“I’m thinking about trying my hand at an acting career if the modeling thing doesn’t work out.” She grinned at him over the rim of her cup.

“Really?” he asked. “I bet you’d be great.”

“No, not really.” She rolled her eyes. “I’d have no idea what I was doing. I’d be terrible, and even if I weren’t, modeling is bad enough. I’d have a nervous breakdown if there were paparazzi stalking my every move.”

He laughed. “So the famous thing isn’t as great as you thought it would be, huh? Hate to say I told you so, but…”

Erin’s eyes narrowed in Blake’s direction. “No, you don’t. You love it. You always did. Must have been the Dom in you, dying to come out and impose his will on people in need of his guidance.”

“I don’t know about that.” He glanced down at his coffee. “I just thought you’d be happier doing something more low-key. You always hated it when people paid too much attention to you at school. I couldn’t imagine the attention of strangers would be any better.”

She sighed, floored by how well he’d known her, even better than she’d known herself back then. “You were right,” she said softly. “It was weird getting that much attention, especially lingerie-model kind of attention. But by the time I got the Damned Naughty gig, I was tired of working twelve-hour waitressing shifts to pay my rent. The money made up for the weirdness.”

He nodded. “Money does help. I was against the reality show idea at the beginning, but my partner, Rafe, was right to push me into it. It was amazing free publicity. Quadrupled our business in the first year.”

They talked for another hour and drank their way through a third pot of coffee, the conversation flowing more smoothly than any in Erin’s recent memory.

How long had it been since she’d been able to sit and have a relaxing conversation with a good friend? It seemed like forever. And she’d never felt so at home and relaxed with any man but Blake.

Scott had been the type of man who liked to keep his Dom hat on twenty-four seven. At first, twenty-one-year-old Erin—who was new to the scene and hooked on the high of subbing for the first time—had thought that was a wonderful thing. But after six months, she’d started to crave some downtime. Time when they could just be comfortable together. She’d started to wish for a Dominant and submissive relationship where the different roles underscored their relationship like music, not smothered it like a wool blanket.

It wouldn’t be like that with Blake. She could just feel it.

Sitting across from him at the breakfast table already felt achingly familiar. They’d never had a chance to live together, just the two of them, but this was how she’d always dreamed it would be. Hell, it was better than she’d dreamed it would be. In her younger fantasies, she hadn’t known how much she craved the thrill of submitting to a Dominant man or guessed that her first love would grow up to be her dream guy.

Of course, she should have known. Blake had always been a knight in shining armor, the kind of brave, confident, caring man who seemed extinct in modern times. Even in the BDSM club scene it was rare to find a man in possession of himself the way Blake was. A lot of crazies who lacked the personality or finesse to win a woman in the “real world” assumed they could come into a club and find a docile submissive to put up with all their crap.

A true Dom was a hard thing to find.

“So how did you get into the scene anyway?” Erin asked, not realizing she’d propped her toes on the edge of Blake’s chair until he took a foot in hand and began to run his thumbs along her instep. “Breakfast and a foot rub? I must have been a very good girl.”

He laughed beneath his breath. “You were.”

“I tried to use the shower nozzle last night,” Erin said, the confession spilling from her lips before she could think better of it.

The compulsion to be honest with Blake was just too strong. No matter what her rational mind had to say, her inner sub wanted to turn over control to this man, to trust him with every thought, every secret.

“I wasn’t planning on obeying that last order,” she continued. “I just…I wanted you to know.”

He didn’t pause in his massaging of her feet, but Erin saw the muscle in his jaw tense. “So what changed your mind?”

“My body.”

He raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue.

“I couldn’t come,” she whispered. “Not without your permission.”

“You
couldn’t
?” he asked, sounding more curious than angry.

“I physically couldn’t. And I tried, believe me.” She bit her lip as she set her empty coffee cup back on the table. “But a part of me wanted to please you too much.”

Blake stared at her for a few minutes, his dark eyes unreadable. When he finally spoke, his silky Dom voice was back in full effect. “That’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah?” she asked, a part of her hoping he’d prove it by tackling her to the floor of the kitchen and showing her just how hot he was.

But he only smiled and turned his attention back to her feet. “Yeah.”

“Well…good,” Erin said, ignoring the heat pooling in her belly. She couldn’t be ready for more already. It had only been a couple of hours since she’d come so hard she was sure she’d done herself damage. “So are you going to tell me how you got into the scene?”

“My first girlfriend after I moved to Vegas was interested in checking out this dungeon they had going at the edge of town,” he said. “She had fantasies about getting chained to a wall by a man wearing black leather.”

She grinned. “Sounds fun.”

Blake laughed. “She thought so, too, until she was all strapped in. Then she couldn’t get out of her restraints or that club fast enough. Turns out the BDSM scene wasn’t for her. But I liked it just fine.”

Erin squirmed slightly in her chair, finding it damned difficult to consider Blake’s foot rub relaxing instead of arousing. “Yeah, some people just want to have the fantasy. But not me. When I first discovered the BDSM clubs in L.A., I wanted to live there. All the time.”

“I can imagine.”

“Can you?” she asked, voice hitching as Blake’s thumb dug into her arch.

“You’re excited right now. Aren’t you?” He pinned her with a look she felt sizzle across her skin. “After we spent half the night and all morning playing, you want more.”

Erin nodded slowly. Within seconds, her breath grew faster and her pussy wet simply from watching the heat flare in Blake’s eyes.

“You can’t get enough,” he said, continuing when Erin shook her head again. “So why don’t you take that shirt off. I have something I want you to put on while we finish talking.”

Erin couldn’t obey fast enough.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Erin

Erin’s hands were trembling as she stripped her nightshirt off and threw it to the ground, amazed that the moment had gone from comfortable to erotic so quickly.

It was incredibly arousing.

Almost as arousing as the sight of what Blake had fished from the kitchen drawer.

“I didn’t bring my nipple clamps, but I think these will work just fine.” Blake knelt in front of her, setting the clothespins on the table before placing his hands lightly on her hips. “Would you like me to put those on your nipples?”

“Yes.” Her breasts were already aching, her nipples drawing into tight points despite the warmth of the room. “Very much.”

“I thought you might.” Blake held her eyes as he lowered his mouth, capturing one aching tip between his lips. He suckled her gently at first, teasing her with the tip of his tongue, swirling around and around the taut bud until Erin’s eyes slid closed on a moan.

“Open your eyes, watch me,” he said, his words sending a jolt of arousal searing along her nerves, and more heat pooling between her thighs. “And don’t move until I give you permission.”

Erin met Blake’s eyes again as he plucked one of the clothespins from the table and attached it to her nipple. The pinching sensation only intensified her desire, the pain and pleasure fusing together to create an arousing sensation more powerful than either one alone.

Blake waited until she regained a measure of control over her rapid breathing before transferring his attention to her other breast, licking, sucking and biting, driving her mad with the need to move. It was hellish work not to squirm in her seat, not to thread her fingers through Blake’s hair and hold on for dear life.

But she wanted his approval and the reward for her obedience—which she had no doubt he would deliver—far more than the small relief movement would afford.

“Good, so good.” Blake breathed the words against her breast, then flicked his tongue out across her nipple one last time, making her gasp. He attached the second clothespin, his own breath coming faster.