Pleasure's Edge (16 page)

And stil he pounded into her.

“Just have to fuck you, girl. Just . . . ah . . . fucking you . . . yes ...” His head was spinning. They were al flesh and sweat and the scent of sex everywhere as he col apsed on top of her, his fingers slipping from her ass.

He was achingly aware of her body beneath him. Her breasts were soft, pressed against his chest, her stomach a smooth, concave surface against his. Skin like fucking porcelain; that was the only way he could think about it. But hot, alive. And her hair . . .

wild red curls everywhere. He buried a hand in those silky spirals, pul ed in the scent of it, of her.

His heartbeat was as wild in his chest as her hair was, laid out as it was on the pil ows. But it was more than the hammering pulse of expended effort.

What the hel was going on with him?

He shifted off her, rol ing onto his side.

“I stil owe you a spanking,” he told her.

A smal laugh from her, then she turned over onto her stomach.

“I’l take it now,” she said, her voice soft, her words coming out slowly, like they’d been coated in honey.

“Ah, getting smart with me, Dylan?”

“Just wil ing. Isn’t that what you want from me? Demand from me?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

But was that entirely true? He wanted . . . more than that.

Fuck. Don’t think about it.

He reached over and gave her ass a good, hard smack, smiled when she jumped.

Yes, that was more like it. In command. In control. It was his job to elicit a response from her. To be the one running the show.

He lifted his hand again, but paused.

He wasn’t going to spank her to prove a point, damn it. He was too good at what he did for that. That was bul shit. And al about him, his own head trip.

Irresponsible.

Unforgivable.

Out of control, damn it.

He lowered his hand and said to her, “We’l leave that spanking for a while.”

She remained quiet, on her stomach stil . And looking at the smooth curves of her body, he didn’t have the heart to make her move. Instead, he laid his hand over her ass, her cheeks smal and warm beneath his palm. And thought,
Mine
.

Dangerous thought. He may be a dominant, and part of that was a sense of ownership, for those in a real relationship. But that was not what this arrangement was about. That was not what he did.

Ever. And this time, this woman, was no different, God damn it.

He didn’t want to think about why he had to mental y yel at himself to get his thoughts back in line.

He’d catch his breath, recover from the power of his orgasm, and think about it later. Or maybe he’d fuck her again and not think about it at al .

But he’d been thinking of nothing but Dylan Ivory since the moment he’d met her. He had no reason to think that was going to change any time soon.

Damn it.

nine

Dylan sat on her sofa, a soft blanket over her lap, listening to the fal of rain outside and sipping a cup of her favorite jasmine and green tea. She was tired, aching al over. She felt as though she’d been in a trance since the night before, ever since she’d arrived at Alec’s house.

Simply going there at his instruction had been a mind-fuck. One she’d sunk into al too easily, especial y once they’d gotten started.

And what had happened between them after . . . That was nothing short of incredible. The sex. The sense of connection, which had made the sex different, somehow. Better. More intense. But this morning she was al doubt and nerves and her pulse was hammering with anxiety.

Had she real y let herself do these things? Had she given up al control to a man? To make her lose her sense of control, of
self
.

She stil couldn’t wrap her head around the idea.

He’d been right about her submissive side. There was no arguing that. But why was she so angry with
him
this morning about it? It wasn’t his fault. Or was it?

She didn’t want to be angry. She didn’t want to feel scared.

Right now, al she wanted was to sit where she was, sleepy and sore, comforted by her blanket and her tea and the sound of the rain. She wanted to revel in last night’s experience. Because it had been good. Beyond good. Why did she have to screw it up with her endless questions today?

When her cel phone rang she thought about letting it go to voice mail. But then it occurred to her that it might be Alec. She grabbed the phone off the coffee table.

“Hel o?”

“Hey, Dylan, it’s Mischa.”

“Oh. Hi.”

“Wel , I’m thril ed to talk to you, too.”

“I’m sorry, Mischa. I thought you might be Alec.”

“Ah.”

“What do you mean, ‘Ah’ ? ”

“I mean, obviously something is going on, and why haven’t you cal ed to tel me?”

“I . . . ” She bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

“I had a feeling we needed to talk.”

“You and your ‘feelings,’ Mischa.”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Dylan sipped her tea, inhaled the fragrant steam, letting it soothe her. “I just feel . . . like this is different for me. I don’t even know how to talk about it yet.”

“Why don’t you tel me what’s happened since I talked to you last week,” Mischa prompted.

“Alec and I have talked. And I’ve seen him. He took me out to dinner, which seems . . . a bit bizarre under the circumstances.

He’s not what I expected when Jennifer told me about him, not at al . I thought he’d be some surly, snarling, silent type, and he’s not.

Now it seems ridiculous that I made that kind of assumption. But he’s not even what I expected after the first time I met him. I had this impression of him initial y . . . maybe it was that I wasn’t comfortable with my own response to him, so I made up this story in my head about the kind of person he was. But the first time we met I knew he was smart. And not just book smart, but world smart.

Savvy. And he’s probably the most confident human being I’ve ever met. I thought he was cocky at first, and I focused a lot on that, but that’s not it, because he has reason to be so utterly confident.” She paused, sipped her tea.

“There’s a hardness about him that appeals to me, but every now and then I see a softness in him. And he’s not afraid of that, either. To let it out. When he told me about losing his father . . . I could see how that had hurt him, how he stil felt it. And usual y men who are so . . . alpha, for want of a better term, are al about being macho hard-asses, but that’s not him at al . He’s more sophisticated about it. And he’s not narcissistic at al , the way the more macho guys tend to be. Because that’s usual y a sign of insecurity, and believe me, this man has nothing to be insecure about.”

She saw his face, his lush mouth, the startling blue of his eyes.

Remembered the touch of his hand on her skin.

“Hel o, Dylan.”

“What?”

“You just spaced out on me.”

“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She pushed a hand through her hair, sweeping her curls from her face.

“What happened last night?”

“I slept with him. But first I should tel you that he took me to the dungeon the other night—”

“What? Dylan, you’ve been holding out on me.”

“I know, I know . . . ”

Mischa’s voice was suddenly sharp. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I mean, physical y I’m fine. It’s been . . . amazing, when I let it be. My head is a little twisted up.”

“No kidding.”

Dylan sighed. “I can’t seem to figure it al out. I feel like this process is tapping into something inside me. Opening me up.

He’s
opening me up. And it’s scary as hel , but I
have
to do it. But sometimes I just want to run, get the hel away from him. The way he makes me feel . . . weak.”

“Yet you keep seeing him.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think there’s something more going on than an infatuation with him? Something more than the excitement of him introducing you to something new? Something more than the sex?”

“Maybe.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. And the sex was incredible.” There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. “Mischa? You’re never this quiet. What are you thinking?”

“I’m . . . I’m thinking this is al pretty mind-blowing. Because it’s
you
we’re talking about, Dylan, and this girly stuff just does not happen to you. I’m surprised at how calm you sound about it. How accepting.”

“Oh, I’m far from calm. I’m completely freaked out. But this morning I’m stil sort of caught up in it. I’m stil a bit dazed by it al .”

“So, when wil you see him again? How did you leave things?”

“We woke up late this morning and he had a conference cal with his agent, so he put me in a cab. He said he’d contact me this week.”

“Did he give you breakfast first?”

“Just coffee.”

“Ah.”

“Mischa, that’s al I wanted. And he had to work. And
I
have to work. I have deadlines, which I’ve been ignoring too much lately. It was fine.”

“Okay. If you say so. But I don’t care how alpha he is, if he hurts you I am coming up there to kick his macho ass.” Dylan smiled. “Okay. That’s a deal. But I won’t let that happen.

And I feel total y selfish for monopolizing the conversation. Tel me what’s up with you.”

“The usual. The tattoo shop is busy; I’m stil booking four and five months in advance since I cut down to four days a week to keep up with my writing. I just turned in a novel a a few days ago and wil start another book, my first ful -length novel, next weekend. I’m dating a few guys, but nothing serious. Certainly nothing as serious as you.”

“This isn’t serious. Not like that. And I don’t expect it to be.

Neither of us is interested in that.”

But as Dylan hung up the phone, a smal thought flashed through her head, a sliver of doubt that had her stomach clenching.

Because she was no longer entirely sure that was true.

Alec found a seat at the bar, sat down and ordered a beer. He had no desire to get drunk but he definitely needed to take the edge off. The bartender put his glass in front of him and Alec took a long gulp, the rich, dark beer cooling him down.

It was stil raining outside, had been al day. But he was as fired up as if he was in the middle of a desert. Heated through. He’d woken up that way and was annoyed as hel that he couldn’t seem to get a handle on it. Which is why he’d lied to Dylan this morning and told her he’d had a meeting with his agent. Total bul shit. He’d simply had to be alone. To think it through.

He’d come up empty. Which was why he’d cal ed Dante and asked him to meet him at their favorite bar tonight.

Alec glanced up and saw Dante walking through the door. His friend was tal and lanky, dark-haired and dark-eyed, and the women in the bar al turned to look him over. Half-Italian and half-Spanish, his looks usual y got him any woman he wanted. But they were both more likely to hook up with women they met at the fetish clubs. Even though Dante wasn’t as hardcore a player as Alec was, it was too difficult for either of them to relate to a woman who wasn’t interested in kink on some level. And neither of them was the type to try to draft a “vanil a” woman into the lifestyle. Which didn’t explain how he’d gotten wrapped up with Dylan Ivory.

Fuck.

He threw back most of his beer before Dante reached the bar.

“Hey, Alec.”

“Hey.”

Dante slid onto the stool next to him and Alec ordered a beer for him and another for himself.

“So what’s on fire, Alec?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not like you to ask for an impromptu date. Should I be flattered?” Dante joked, grinning at him.

“Yeah, about that . . . sorry to drag you out on a work night.”

“No problem. I don’t have to be in court tomorrow. What’s up?” Alec sat and sipped his beer, brooding. What the hel
was
up with him? “Maybe I need your help to figure it out.” Dante nodded, sipped his own beer, his eyes narrowing. “But something is up.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s that woman you’ve been seeing, Dylan.” It wasn’t a question. Like him, Dante was a practiced dominant, someone who took the time to read people. Alec wasn’t surprised that he knew right away what the issue was.

“Yeah.”

“Did you take her to the Pleasure Dome?”

Alec blew out a long breath. “Yeah, I did.”

“How did it go?”

“It went great. She’s every bit as submissive as I suspected.

Goes down easy. Almost too easy. I expected a lot more fight from her.” He rubbed a hand over his goatee. “She doesn’t open up easily. In fact, there’s something big she’s keeping from me.

That’s okay; I can work around it.”