Red Hots (14 page)

The
thought rocked him back on his heels. He hadn’t expected it, but with her grin
stretching her full mouth just enough to draw his gaze to her lips and hold it
there, he could not deny the urge.

He
knew that it most likely had a lot to do with the fact that the last time she
was in his home, standing in the same spot, he was buried balls deep inside of
her—her tight wet walls sheathing him like she was carved perfectly for his
pleasure.

Even
now, his cock was rising in memory and anticipation of being inside her sex
again. No other woman or submissive had had such an instant effect on him.
However, this time he could not allow himself to become susceptible to the lure
of Kindle. He would keep things in their proper perspective.

Turning
away from the temptation, he led the way to the kitchen.

Then
why dinner?
his mind
taunted.

It
was true. At eight o’clock at night, he didn’t need to offer her a meal. But as
a Dom he knew it was his job to be concerned with the well-being of any
submissive under him. The last thing he needed was for her to become ill or
faint during a session because she had not eaten all day.

You
waited on her before you ate
.

Feeling
even more divided and angry at himself for the conflicting thoughts, he moved
to his refrigerator once in the kitchen and barked, “Sit down at the bar, Song
Sparrow, with your hands folded in your lap.”

“Yes,
Sir.” She rushed out, evidence that the fierceness of his command had startled
her. First her feet patted on the bare stone floor then the legs of the chair
tapped a few times while she moved it in place and became silent once she was
in it.

He
wouldn’t allow himself to feel like shit for his tone.
No. I’m a Dom, she is
my sub. Period.

Hell,
it wasn’t like he was taking his anger out on her physically. Damn it. He took
several deep breaths while gathering the meat, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce,
Kosher pickle spears, mustard and mayo and crushed red peppers for his. He
recalled that she didn’t enjoy spice on her food.

In
a few moments, he turned and placed his armload on the island where she sat on
the other side, her back rod straight exactly as he’d ordered. The smile was now
gone and she studied him with an apprehensive gaze.

Shit.
Shit. Fucking shit. He’d enjoyed the light of expectation in her eyes and the
pleased look on her face, but there was no going back now he knew, Kindle had
assumed her role.

Getting
plates and two tall glasses from his cabinet, he then grabbed a knife and the
sandwich rolls from the bread bin before he returned to the gray marble-topped
island.

“Are
you allergic to any of these ingredients or have a dislike of anything besides
the peppers?”

“No,
Sir.” Her voice was cold, almost professional.

He
hated hearing it in his house, but he didn’t comment on it.

With
a sharp nod, he went back to his stainless steel refrigerator and filled the
glasses with chipped ice and water from the door. “Drink this glass before we
eat. I need to make sure you’re not dehydrated for tonight’s session.”

“Yes,
Sir.”

Exhaling
slowly between parted lips, he began to prepare the food. He allowed the
silence to stretch between them while he put the sandwiches together, but it
grated along his nerves. He wasn’t even completely sure why. As long as he had
been a Dominant, he was more than used to the silence of a submissive. Usually
he preferred it to keep his mental distance while he designed a session they
would engage in.

But,
Kindle was different. He felt different. That scared the living shit out of
him.

Analyze
it later, he instructed himself.

With
the food ready and the supplies put away, he walked around the four-person
island in the middle of his kitchen and set her plate before her. “Please, eat.
I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank
you, Sir. I’m sure I will.” Reaching up, she picked up a half of the sandwich
and bit into it.

Not
wanting to stand there and stare at her mouth, he returned to his own plate
still sitting across from her.

Raising
one half of his, he bit into it and relished the spicy peppers and acidity of
the tomatoes striking his taste buds.

“It’s
very good, if I may say, Sir.” A twinkle of light was back in her brown eyes,
but nothing close to the glow from earlier.

“You
may.” After they both had consumed their first half, he asked, “Talk to me
about your day.”

Lifting
her pickle, she nibbled on one end. “I’m sure you don’t want to be bored with
the details, Sir.”

“I
want to hear about it.” Assessing her features, he could still see the evidence
of how her day had worn on her. “I believe you may need to talk about it, Song
Sparrow.”

Averting
her gaze, she took two more bites of her sandwich and didn’t respond. He could
have ordered her to talk, but a part of him wanted her to willingly trust him.
A risky emotion, but he allowed it to rest low in the corner of his heart.

“It
was tough. A lot tougher than I expected it to be,” she began, her words coming
out crisp and cool, as if she were attempting to separate herself from the
tale.

“Because
of the victim’s testimony?” He’d seen bits and pieces of the news correspondence
about the little girl, Kristy Martin, the single survivor of the sick murdering
bastard, being in court today telling her story to the judge and jury. No
cameras had been allowed in the room. He commended Kindle, for ensuring the
child was kept hidden even from the vultures swarming the courthouse, and every
person involved in the case, for never once had a picture of the innocent child
been revealed.

“Yes
and no, Sir.” She hadn’t lifted her second half. She held her pickle in her
hand but instead of raising it to her mouth, she seemed to mindlessly slide it
back and forth through the small pool of its juice on her plate. This idle
action was not like Kindle.

It
caused him to set his own sandwich down and give her his full attention.

“I
had arranged for her to go early in the proceedings. Mostly because I wanted
the jury to have her voice and her image seared into their conscious as they
heard all the other witnesses and evidence surrounding the case. I’d heard her
tell the story repeatedly. Training her to speak up, not shy away from the
details associated with my questions. I coached her magnificently, Sir.”

“You’re
an excellent attorney, I’m sure you did.” When her gaze met his, he saw the
shadows there…not fear but more like some kind of disquieted cloud resting
above Kindle or on her shoulders. This case was shaking her core and seeing
that effect caused a knot of fear to form in his gut. He shouldn’t be this
connected to a temporary sub, didn’t want to be bound emotionally to a woman who
could not be his. But the feeling was there just the same. “What happened in
that courtroom, today?”

He
almost called her Kindle, making this even more personal, but he didn’t.

“Nothing
and everything.” She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply and breathed.

She
struggled with something. He witnessed several emotions warring along her
features. When her gaze met his again he saw it, just a sliver of water riding
the lower lids of her eyes. Kindle’s outer shell of strength was rock solid.
The soft emotion struck him deep in his core. The urge to round the structure
between them and wrap his arms around her and give her his support was almost
overwhelming. Clutching the counter he stood his ground and remained silent.

“Sir,
it was almost too much to bear. However, I had no right to be feeling the way I
did when Kristy was being so resilient and courageous.”

“How
did you feel?” he prompted, as if Kindle was on trial and he was her attorney
leading her through the paces of an incident.

“Sad,
angry…
scared
.” The last word came out so strained he knew that if Kindle
had been a weaker woman she would have bailed then and allowed the tears to
flow, but she held them back.

“For
her?” he held her gaze, visually apprehending her and not allowing her to look
away, or push the pain to the side.

She
shook her head. “No, Sir. For me. Am I really the lawyer for this case? Can I
do right by this little girl? What if something goes wrong? He gets off? They
taught us in law school to never make promises. We have to believe that justice
will prevail. Will it? Often it doesn’t.” The words tumbled on top of each
other like clowns falling from a too small car where they’d finally been freed.

The
quaking timbre of her voice echoed around the room, filling the space with her
self-doubt. Even as she spoke, her free hand was fisted on the counter, balling
tighter and tighter to the point her knuckles had become lighter.

Circumventing
the barrier between them, he didn’t stop until he was standing at her side. He
could not hug her now, could not allow the emotions she held tethered to be
released, but he could give her something she
needed
more. His skills.

She
had to focus, pull herself together to make it through this trial.

“Song
Sparrow, stand up,” he commanded. His voice was just as firm as earlier when
they’d entered the kitchen, but this time he was in control of his own
emotions, his mind clear with one purpose, help Kindle.

Rising
immediately, he saw her chest rise and fall as a breath shuddered through her.

“Go
to the living room, undress, put your clothing on the hanger with your coat.
When you are finished, meet me in the playroom.”

“Yes,
Sir.” She confirmed her understanding.

Not
waiting for her to leave, he began cleaning up the kitchen.

By
the time he picked up his plate, she was gone. While he wrapped up and put away
both sandwiches, his hands were calm, steady and his movements were sure. Being
a Dom was who he was. He had never really been a good boyfriend, not even to
his ex-girlfriend. Most likely, the reason Naomi, Firefly, had found it so easy
to take a job across country and leave what they had. To leave him.

With
the kitchen put back to rights, he crossed the distance to the playroom. He’d
already unlocked the door while he had waited on Kindle to arrive earlier. Once
within, he saw her standing in the center of the room, her back to the door,
facing the bench with her hands relaxed at her side.

He
allowed himself a moment to take in the lines of her form. She truly did have
an excellently crafted body for play. Broad, rounded feminine shoulders, a
delicate spine, narrow waist and enough ass—high and plump—to bring any Dom
calling. She was his. At least for now, but he was still more than grateful.

“Raise
your arms, Song Sparrow, and spread your legs shoulder-width apart.” He watched
her comply with his request.

Stepping
to her, he reached up and unlatched cuffs on a bar above her head. He wasn’t
even sure that Kindle had realized she was standing beneath it. When he bound
one wrist with the sturdy, padded leather, he heard her gasp of surprise and
saw her tilt her head back briefly to look up then fix her gaze forward again.

With
the other wrist secured, he went to his cabinet for ankle cuffs and returned to
stoop before her and fasten them to her.  He then connected the short inside
ankle chains to the steel loop bolted to the floor. In this position, he could
smell the sweet musk of Kindle’s sex. It wasn’t permeating the air, letting him
know she wasn’t fully aroused. Yet. If she responded to tonight’s session as
she had Sunday’s, he knew she’d be ready to orgasm by the time he was done.
However, he had a surprise for her.

He
slid his hand up along her body, avoiding contact with her sex and continuing a
path between her breasts until he could cup her cheek. “Tonight I will
introduce you to a flogger.”

He’d
intended to use the paddle, however, she was too emotional for the intensity of
the scene he’d thought out. So, he would give her an outlet for those emotions.

“Are
you familiar with one, Song Sparrow?”

Her
forehead furrowed between her perfectly arched eyebrows. She frowned and asked,
“Is it similar to what Indiana Jones carries, Sir?”

He
stroked his thumb over her chin. “No, that’s a single-tail whip. This is
different. I will show it to you before we begin, let you feel it.”

“Thank
you, Sir.” Her voice was steadier now.

“Before
we get started, do you recall the matter of the panty situation yesterday?”

She
licked her lips. “You mean when you came to my office, Sir?”

“More
importantly, the reason I
had
to come to your office. Your avoidance and
disobedience, Song Sparrow.” Still caressing her gently, he felt the tremor
that ran through her body.

“Yes,
Sir.” The quiver was back in her voice, but there were no shadows in her eyes
that accompanied it this time.

“Because
of your defiance you will not be brought to an orgasm tonight when our session
is complete. Nor are you allowed to climax at any point during our play. Do you
understand?”