Heat Up the Night (4 page)

He complied, and soon she was writhing under his attentions, aroused beyond sense. If she twitched her hips just right, the seam of her thong would scrape against her clit. Orgasm within reach, she lost hold of all her control. “Oh god, Sir, please more.”

The bastard stopped. Before she could beg, she was in his arms, legs wrapped around his hips. The ridge of his erection pressed against her barely covered core. He thrust against her.

“Sir!”

Bracing her against the door, he repeated the movement, inching her closer to explosion. “I want you to come for me. Let me hear you.”

He leaned down to take one nipple in his mouth, abusing the sensitive tip with his lips and tongue and teeth. Shards of pleasure-pain cut through her in time with his pulsing hips. Almost there, just a breath away…

“Fly for me, firebird.” Keilor tugged her hair, prickling her scalp, then swallowed her moan with his kiss.

His order sent her over, drowning in pleasure. Tingles spread from her pussy out to her toes and fingers and she would have sworn the earth shook beneath her.

When she could finally make sense of the world, she lay on the huge bed, wrapped in Keilor’s arms.

A girl could get used to that kind of attention. She snuggled against his side, letting the afterglow work through her. She knew there was a reason she shouldn’t be doing this, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered beyond the moment.

“That good, huh?”

“Mmm.”

His fingers stroked through her hair and she wanted to purr. Maybe as long as she stayed in this room, isolated from the rest of the world, nothing could bother her. Sounded like a plan. Her palm inched up Keilor’s body until it rested against his chest. The beat of his heart thumped through to her palm and she slowed her breathing in time to his pulse.

Was this what she’d given up for so many years?

“Why the frown?” His voice rumbled through his chest.

“Thinking.”

“Well don’t. It’s bad for your health. The Surgeon General says so.” He kissed her forehead and she about melted.

“Well in that case, I think I need a distraction.”

In an instant, she was beneath him on the bed, his impressive erection notched between her legs. If only a snap of her fingers could strip him bare…

“Well, why don’t we—” A knock on his door made him scowl. “Stay right there, just like that.”

When he used his Dom voice, she couldn’t disobey.

A terse conversation later, Keilor returned from the door with her corset, coat and purse in hand.

“What’s going on?” Was he kicking her out already? Had she somehow disappointed him? Unease snaked through her chest.

“Sammy received a call from your mother. She’s at the hospital.”

Tovia jumped out of bed, snagged her corset and fumbled with the laces before cursing a blue streak. She couldn’t go to the hospital in this. Panic twisted her mind. Her mother had always been a little frail and a lot unbalanced, all thanks to her abusive father, now long gone. His fingerprints still lingered on her mother, though. On her too, secondhand. 

Small hands swatted hers away from the laces. Sammy. Her best friend pulled away the corset then helped Tovia into her coat.

“I have gym clothes in the car. You can put those on while we drive over there, okay?”

Tovia nodded, tears blurring the room. Her watery eyes didn’t stop her from seeing the grim lines on Keilor’s face. Well, this would stop things before they careened even further out of control. Nothing interrupted a sexy evening like a woman’s mother.

Sammy guided her out of the room and she groped for something she could say that wouldn’t sound all wrong.
Thanks for the orgasm? Wonderful beating, Sir?

Keilor’s words stopped her in her tracks. “I will see you next Friday, firebird. No going back on our agreement now.”

She spun to face him, swiping at her tears so she could watch his face unobstructed. “You still want to—”

“Damn right I do.” He cupped her face then pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “We’ve got time to make up for.” With that, he let Sammy pull her down the hall and away from the best night she’d ever had.

“She had a what?” Tovia reigned in her supreme annoyance and tried not to glare at the doctor.

“A panic attack.”

Dressed in Sammy’s yoga clothes, which were uncomfortably tight on her larger frame, Tovia took three deep breaths. She’d have to face her mother at some point, but right now she just couldn’t. A fucking panic attack.

In other circumstances, Tovia would have been more understanding. But her mother regularly had panic attacks. The symptoms of this one hadn’t been out of the ordinary, according to the doctor. In all the decades Amelia Douglas had been coping with panic attacks, she could recognize and mitigate the symptoms like a pro.

She scrawled her signature on the release forms the doctor handed her, then girded herself for the upcoming confrontation. Tovia entered her mother’s room, where Amelia was making nice with the young nurse who had come in to disconnect her from the IV. Tovia gave the woman a tight smile as she left.

“Amelia—”

“It’s about time you showed up.” Amelia dramatically sank down onto her hospital bed, now wearing the clothes she’d come to the hospital in—a pale pink tracksuit with coordinating pink tennis shoes and black tank top, which was awfully matchy-matchy for a woman who had to be rushed to the hospital. Tovia had a sinking suspicion she knew what had happened.

“I told you I would be out for the evening with Sammy.”

She got an eyeful of her mother’s signature reproachful look. “Why do you bother having a cell phone if you won’t use it? Where were you, anyway?”

Tovia wasn’t touching that question. “I didn’t have it with me. It was in the car.”

“I called and texted. You know how my panic attacks get. And you just left me alone to deal with it.”

There it was. In the past six months, as Tovia had started building her life around, well, herself, and Rachel had started establishing her life at Brown University, Amelia had grown more dramatic, calling Tovia at work and pestering Rachel during class. Whatever she felt she needed to do to remind them she existed.

As if they could forget.

“I love you—”

“Could have fooled me, forcing me to come to the hospital for treatment.” Tovia was about to snap at her, but then Amelia said, “I’m just so lonely when you’re not at home. It scares me to be alone.”

Guilt edged out her frustration and Tovia sat next to her on the bed. “I know it’s hard.”

Her mother seized her hand. “We’ve got each other, Tovia. You and me against the world, baby girl. You saved me after your father left, and I thank God every day I have you with me.”

She kissed her mother’s cheek, having no other reply. As a child, she’d watched her father abuse her mother, then had lived through the ugliest imaginable divorce. She vaguely recalled the larger-than-life woman her mother had once seemed to be, now wondering whether that was reality or the rose-colored glasses of childhood. But the Douglas women had banded together and made it through. Bumped and bruised, but whole.

Maybe her mother was right. It had been them against the world for so long. She briefly thought of Keilor, missed him with a surprising ache, but set it aside. She didn’t want memories of her father to taint whatever beautiful thing she was exploring with Keilor. And it felt like a betrayal, thinking of romance when her mother was still so broken after hers.

She had a whole week to straighten things out. She’d get her head on right before Friday. All she needed to do was find a way to box off Submissive Tovia from the rest of herself.

Normally he could drown himself in work. Parthenon was still Las Vegas’s hottest new dinner spot, and between managing the kitchen and making requisite tableside appearances for the celebs and high rollers, Keilor’s weekdays breezed by. This week was different, though, scattered and unfocused. Every night he itched to get out of the kitchen because it brought him one day closer to seeing Tovia.

Saturday morning, he’d vowed to give her space. When she’d hit subspace, their dynamic had shifted. All the energy she expended keeping him at bay suddenly drew him closer. Then their progress had come to a resounding halt, and she’d closed up again. Probably for the best. She’d run their first night together, and he knew the next time she bolted would be her last.

Yet he couldn’t help reaching out to her. Even a virtual connection was better than nothing. Sunday, he sent her an impulsive text:
I can’t wait until Friday.

When his phone had buzzed an hour later, he broke his own rule and pulled it out in the kitchen.
Me too.

He hadn’t expected her to reply. Over the week, they’d exchanged a volley of “good morning” and “goodnight” and “how’s your day going.” Little nothings, but they meant she was thinking of him too. Niceties gave way to goofy little questions. Tovia answered him openly, less guarded than she’d been either night at the club when not floating in subspace.
What are your five favorite movies? What food do you hate? Where was your first kiss?
Each time his phone buzzed, he jumped for it, better trained than Pavlov’s dogs. Her sweet messages brightened his day, even when his kitchen staff started calling out with the flu. They all took extra precautions, even with the sick workers out of the kitchen. Short-staffed, working extra hours, Keilor still grinned like an idiot so often that Trey, his sous chef, started giving him shit for it.

At last, the clock hit six on Friday night. Trey rolled his eyes when Keilor bee-lined for the door, bucking his usual routine of staying late to finish up paperwork in the office.

This week, he had something better to do than go to Apogee and, maybe, engage in a rote scene with a submissive friend. He didn’t like going too long without playing, as those skills would quickly deteriorate, but he didn’t enjoy playing with a different submissive every week. BDSM was something terribly intimate. He’d top certain women—mostly the submissives who were training at the club—but otherwise, Tovia was the only woman he actually wanted to dominate and keep for his own beyond a single scene.

Those thoughts carried him out of the casino into the chilly parking garage, all the way to the outskirts of the city and the club’s winding driveway. His jeep rumbled up the path and he searched out the other cars, not seeing Samantha’s bright yellow Bug. Tovia might be driving to the club her with her friend, but she’d be leaving with him.

Once inside, he nodded to Mike, who was in the corner with Nikos, working over a tanned brunette. She yelped and danced under Nikos’s crop while Mike held her captive against his chest. A vision of Tovia in that situation flashed through his brain and even as it turned him on to think of her at his mercy, seeing another man’s hands on her had him seeing red.

He’d held back last week while she was playing with Mike, but now she was his. And that meant exclusive access to her sweet body until she told him otherwise.

He just prayed she never denied him.

Nodding to Dimitri, the Dom on bar duty, Keilor took a seat at the far end of the L-shaped bar and grunted in thanks when a frosty bottle of water landed in front of him.

When his fingers started to tap on the side of his stool, he clenched them into a fist. He would wait, patiently, for Tovia to show up. Somehow.

Three quarters of the way through his water bottle, Dimitri whistled. “Incoming.”

He turned and caught sight of Tovia, long-limbed and dressed in black lace, mousing across the room, alternately ducking her head and staring at various scenes in progress around the room. By the time she reached his side, a fine tremble worked through her hands. Like that, his long week disappeared. Until the morning, he didn’t want to think about anything beyond her.

Needing to reestablish barriers so he didn’t throw her over his shoulder like a caveman and drag her upstairs to fuck all night, he took her hand and kissed her palm. “Kneel.” With a wink, Dimitri handed him a floor pillow from the stack behind the bar. He dropped it onto the floor, then pointed down.

Her glossy pink lips popped open, and he imagined sliding his cock between them. “Sir—”

“Kneel, firebird.” He knew this pushed her buttons. She’d balked their first time together, when he’d tried to put her on the spanking bench. That time, he’d acquiesced, moving her to a standing station. Tonight, though, he wanted her to feel the power exchange.

She bit into her tempting bottom lip then complied. Her head rested against his knee and he stroked her silky red strands while he reminded himself to take things slow with her, hearing Samantha’s warning to be careful with Tovia.

Don’t scare her away.
Don’t come on too strong. Don’t let her know how very much you want to keep her for your own.

Damn, he’d never been this full of doubt. What was it about this woman that did him in? As if he could hear Keilor’s every thought, Dimitri smirked then sauntered to the other end of the bar where Mike was now nursing a beer. At least he had a modicum of privacy, though not nearly as much as he’d like.

While there was no prohibited contact or scene play, so long as it was safe, sane and consensual, the things he had in mind for Tovia were acts he didn’t want anyone witnessing. His gut churned at the thought of other members—other Doms—watching Tovia come apart in his arms.

And if he had his way, she’d spend all night doing just that. He had limited time to convince her not to run from what was growing between them, and no end of pleasurable things he ached to do to her.

A little sigh huffed from her lips and her head sank against his thigh. From this angle, he could see her curves, front and back, encased in sinful black lace. No corset this week. God, she had beautiful breasts. High, soft, but not too big, balancing out the gentle curve of her hips like a 50’s pin-up. Her ass was barely contained in boyshort underwear in a dense black lace, showing just the barest glimpse of skin through the fabric. Across the room, Samantha caught his eye and gave him a knowing wink.