Covet Me Page 11

  “Then don’t ever say that again.” She blinked and tears cascaded down her face. “Don’t ever fucking saying that.”

  I swiped them away with the pad of my thumb. “I won’t.”

  “Sometimes you can be such a bloody wanker,” she said with a sniffle.

  “And still you love me,” I teased.

  “No one ever accused me of having good judgment.” Her lips curled at the corners.

  This was how I wanted to spend this time with her. Trials awaited us in London and, sooner than I would like, we would have to face them. “We only have a few days. Let’s enjoy them. Pretend that we’re on a holiday and we have nothing but a blissful, simple life ahead of us full of sex and success and…”

  “And?” she prompted, willingly joining me in my game. “What else do we have in this ideal life?”

  I brushed a finger along her chin. “I don’t know. If we’re playing pretend, I suppose we could have anything we wanted.”

  “If only.” Belle’s eyes fluttered down, her cheeks darkening.

  “If only what?” I pressed. “What do you want, beautiful? Let me give it to you. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But someday. Let’s keep ourselves focused on someday.”

  “I don’t know. It’s…silly. I don’t even know what I was thinking exactly.”

  I understood. Belle was a woman—an ambitious woman—but that didn’t mean she’d given up on more domestic pursuits. “A ring?” I guessed.

  “Someday,” she repeated softly. “I know it’s a long way off. I’m not ready either. I just…”

  “What else?” I asked, ignoring her insecurity. “A baby?”

  Her eyes widened. “You don’t…um…”

  “I don’t seem the type. I know, but I’ll let you in on a secret. People change, beautiful.” I kissed her softly. “You changed me.”

  Never mind that all of this was a fantasy. For a moment I needed to pretend it was possible, because she deserved that much. If she was willing to give up everything for me, I wanted her to know that I would do everything in my power to give her a full life.

  “Are you saying you want a baby?” she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Or are you trying to get in my knickers?”

  “I’m always trying to get in your knickers.” I slid a hand down her belly and pushed it between her thighs. “A baby is a while off, but I wouldn’t mind the practice.”

  “How generous of you.” The dryness of the comment was undercut by her sharp intake of breath as I rubbed her sex through her dress’s silky fabric.

  “I can be very generous.” My thumb began to circle, using the material for added friction. “Even when you’re fully clothed, I can’t keep my fucking hands off you. It feels good, doesn’t it? Having your panties scratching over your clit? Are they wet yet, beautiful?”

  I already knew the answer. Her dress had grown damp as I continued to manipulate her pussy through her clothes.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  “I can feel it.” I captured her mouth and kissed her deeply. When I broke away, she was trembling. “We should get you out of these clothes.”

  Hooking an arm around her, I guided her onto her feet. My fingers found the zipper hidden under her arm and I slid it down slowly as I continued to kiss her. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” I asked. “Do you want me to claim you for all of New York to see?”

  We were far too high up to risk casual sightings from the street, and the seclusion of our suite’s terrace afforded a great deal of privacy. I had no desire to share Belle or her body with anyone else. Still there was no way to discount any voyeurism.

  Her breath sped up and she bit her lip before nodding.

  “You’re so dirty.” I continued to strip her until she standing naked in the crisp, evening air. Her nipple were sharp points, and although she shivered, she didn’t complain of the cold. “It’s cold, isn’t it? But you want it so bad that you don’t care. Get on your knees.”

  Belle lowered herself one leg at a time. Her wide eyes remained expectant as she stared up at me. I backed away from her, unfastening my belt and then my trousers. By the time I reached the terrace railing, I was stroking myself off with one hand. With the other I beckoned her to come to me. There was no hesitation as she dropped onto her hands and crawled obediently to my feet. She rocked back onto her heels until she was kneeling before me.

  I brushed my thumb over her lip, smearing her red lipstick over her mouth, my other hand still on my cock. Pushing the tip of my thumb past her lips, I smiled approvingly as began to suck it. “Do you know why crawled to me, beautiful?”

  She nodded but didn’t answer, too intent on the finger she had between her lips. I pulled it away and waited for a response.

  “Because I’m yours,” she whispered. The dark fringe of lashes fluttered innocently over her large, blue eyes as she answered. She felt the truth of us—understood the primal, irrevocable connection that we had formed. It was an undeniable as our need to breath. It was as captivating as my obsession with her.

  “Always,” I promised her.

  She leaned forward, pressing her mouth to the bulge of my dick. I felt the heat of the kiss through the fabric of my pants and my balls tightened. The way she kept her eyes glued to mine as she worshipped it made my cock throb. It was hard to patient with her offering her body but I didn’t want to move. Not while she waited for permission, looking so fucking gorgeous on her knees.

  God, I loved this woman. It would be a mistake to think she wasn’t the one who was actually in control. She had me, quite literally at the moment, by the balls. I fisted her hair and jerked her head back no longer able to deny myself. Her tongue licked across her lower lip as I pulled my dick out.

  “You may,” I told her, knowing she waiting for me to instruct her even as I knew what she really wanted.

  Belle’s tongue lashed out, sweeping along the length of my shaft as she drew her lips to my crown. She swirled the tip languidly before she swallowed me to the root and began to suck.

  “That feels so fucking good,” I grunted, tightening my grip on her hair. “I love having my cock in your hot, greedy mouth.”

  But there were things I loved more and right now they were on display for me. The petite buds of her nipples, the generous curve of her ass. I’d never say not having her on her knees but right now I needed to possess her. I wanted my hands on her body, holding her steady as I took her. I pulled her away by the hair, her lips popping loudly as I broke the suction.

  “Up,” I commanded, grabbing her under the arm and hauling her to her feet. She liked it rough and I fucking loved to comply. Pushing her forward against the rail, I slid my belt free and wrapped it around her wrists before hooking it over the rail and fastening it.

  I left her like that, tied to the railing, naked and trembling in the night air as I rolled up my sleeves. It was quite the sight: the most perfect woman in the world, stripped and bound, against the New York skyline.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to move to New York, beautiful?” I murmured against her ear. “I don’t know were else I can find a view like this.”

  Her hips wriggled back, searching for contact and I smacked her ass lightly. Tonight was on my terms.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” I fondled the soft mound between her thighs as I spoke until she was whimpering and shaking. “By the time I’m done with you, you might reconsider.”

  Then I slid deep inside her and gave her something to think about.

  The pain shot through me and I twisted, trying to escape it. I cried out, but no sound issued from my throat. I wanted it to stop. I wanted him to stop, but we were well past that point.

  The cane cracked down against my tender flesh and I collapsed. This time it hurt so badly that my breath hitched. My legs burned with the effort of fighting as the ropes bit into my wrists. Smith circled me and I gazed, pleadingly, up at him. But he either didn’t notice or he didn’t care. He was someone else—someone I didn’t know. Where was the man w
ho loved me? Why had he been replaced by this monster?

  I sat bolt upright in bed, my skin slick with sweat. Smith fumbled for the light on the nightstand as I gasped for air.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching to soothe me.

  I scrambled away, glaring at him. His look said it all. I’d been replaced by a wild creature, my only thought to protect myself.

  “It was a dream,” he said in a low voice. “A nightmare.”

  A dream. None of it was real, even though I could swear I felt the sting of where I’d been struck. I wrapped my arms around my chest, hugging my body as I began to rock.

  “Beautiful, you had a nightmare,” he repeated. This time the truth sank through the fog of sleep clouding my consciousness.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes as I gradually came back to the here and now.

  “Do you want to tell me?” He spoke gently, and I collapsed at the kindness in his voice. He was still here. He was still Smith. My Smith.

  “You…you were beating me,” I choked out. “Beating me with a cane.”

  His lips pressed into a thin line, a vein twitching at the side of his jaw. We both knew what had prompted the dream. It was a subject we had avoided speaking of, but there was no possibility that we could ever fully ignore it. I understood that now. This time when he reached for me, I didn’t attempt to escape. Instead I let him pull me against his body. He murmured soothing praise in my ear as he stroked my back. Even then I couldn’t let it go.

  “Why?” I pushed the question past dry lips. “Why did you do that? Why did you choose her?”

  “Because I wanted you to walk away and never look back.” His confession was harsh only due to the truth it contained.

  I knew that was the reason he’d put me through that scene. But regardless of his intentions, I couldn’t dismiss the pain it had caused me to see him striking Georgia in Velvet. Or the betrayal that clung to the memory.

  “Why her?” I repeated.

  “Because she was willing and because I knew it would hurt you.”

  I jerked away from him, not bothering to hide the horror I felt.

  “Do you still want a submissive?” I demanded. “Someone you can beat? Will you ever be happy with me if I can’t give you that? If I won’t?”

  “I don’t want that,” he said in a firm tone that left no room for questioning. “I didn’t want to put you through that to begin with, and it’s certainly not the life I want. Or the life I’ve chosen. I chose you, beautiful.”

  “That night you chose her.” I spit the accusation at him. “You still like it, don’t you? Dominating a helpless woman?”

  “No! I don’t. That’s my past. It’s not my future.”

  “If it’s what you needed,” I continued, ignoring his answer, “take me there. Tie me up. Whip me. Choose me.”

  “I already chose you, and I don’t need to do those things to you. I want our relationship to be out of pleasure. I want to make you come and make you laugh. I want you to be happy.” But the flatness of his response suggested he understood that it was far more complicated than that.

  “You asked me to go there. You hurt me and then you came back for me!”

  “My hand was forced. You know what I’m trying to accomplish.”

  “No! I don’t!” I exploded. All he’d given me were partial explanations, enough to soothe but not enough to appease the gnawing uncertainty that came with my self-doubt. I felt ashamed for offering my body to abuse at the same time that my desperation grew to manic levels. “Take me there.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  His denial stung, and I shook my head. “Not there. You came to New York for a reason. There’s a club here surely. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  He hesitated and I knew immediately that I’d trapped him.

  “Where?” I pressed. I stumbled out of bed and began pulling items from the closet. “What do you wear to a BDSM club? Or do I go naked?”

  “Come to bed.”

  But I wasn’t giving in this time.

  “Take me there. Show me.” My voice softened. I couldn’t be kept from this part of his life—this element of his past—any longer. “I want all of you. I won’t settle for less.”

  Smith’s expression was unreadable as he appraised me. Finally, he spoke. “Wear a dress. Nothing expensive.”

  “Panties?” I began to tremble as I pulled a simple black shift from a hanger.

  “Yes. I’m not putting you on display.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to protest. “I’ll show you why I came to New York. I’ll take you to who I went to see, but it ends there. If you fight me on this, I’ll put you a flight in the morning.”

  “You can’t dictate my life, Price.”

  He flinched at my use of his surname, but I was well past caring. It was time to face our demons and try to survive them. I couldn’t live with the possibility that we couldn’t. I had to prove to myself otherwise.

  From the street there was nothing special about the building the cab driver delivered us to. It was past midnight, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. The cabbie looked nervously at the spot. “You sure this is the place?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.” Smith tossed a tip in his direction, which effectively silenced his concerns.

  Smith didn’t reach for my hand as we walked to the door. Unlike Velvet, it opened immediately and the sound of smooth, dreamy music floated toward us. I stepped in behind him and stopped. This wasn’t a club, it was some type of late-night theatre. On the stage, a group of scantily-clad dancers performed a sensual number. Two men pushed and pulled, tugging at the woman in between them. She collapsed in one’s arms only to have him toss her in the air. The other man caught her, even as her hair grazed the hard wooden floor beneath them.

  There were only a handful of people in the audience. No doubt the show was drawing to a close. Turning on my heel, I shot Smith a withering glare, but he looked past me.

  “Mistress,” he said in a greeting, and I spun around to face an elegant woman dressed in a sweeping, floor-length gown that glistened ruby in the dim, atmospheric light. She was in her mid-forties, her hair cascading gracefully over a bare shoulder.

  “You’ve joined us, and I see you’ve brought your friend.” Her thinly plucked eyebrow curved into a question mark.

  “Belle, meet—”

  “Samantha,” she interjected. “My clients call me Alice, but you’re not a client.”

  It was an explanation of sorts, but I found myself struggling to process what I was experiencing. So this was the woman who Smith had come to see. Judging from the Scottish accent that coated her words, she was someone from his past.

  “Welcome to The Looking Glass. It’s a pet project.” She motioned for us to follow her to the bar. Catching the bartender’s eye, she held up three fingers. A moment later, three petite glasses sat before us.

  “Absinthe.” She lifted one and handed it to me. “It makes the impossible probable.”

  I swallowed it in one gulp, nearly gagging on its unapologetically licorice flavor.

  “She wanted to meet you,” he explained, not bothering to take the drink she offered him.

  Samantha studied me for a moment with sharp eyes. “I think she came for more than that.”

  “I came for answers,” I said. If no one was going to start talking, I was going to start asking. “Like who the hell you are and why he had to come so far to talk to you?”

  “She is a fiery one.” Samantha spoke to him as if I wasn’t there.

  “You have no idea,” I warned her.

  “You came for answers, but you also came for release,” she guessed. “From the secrets that are burdening you and the fear that accompanies them.”

  It was like talking to a goddamn sphinx. If I’d hoped she’d be more forthcoming than my mysterious boyfriend, I supposed I would be disappointed. But nothing surprised me anymore, not when it came to the complicated, thorny relationship I had with Smith.

  “Samantha is Ha
mmond’s wife.”

  I’d been wrong. He could still shock me.

  “I left him years ago,” she said in elaboration. “Smith keeps me apprised of what’s going on at home.”

  “And what did he tell you?” I asked. “Probably more than he told me.”

  “That a shift in the wind is coming.”

  More riddles.

  “He came to warn me,” she continued, waving a hand dismissively as though it was nothing out of the ordinary. “And you came for Wonderland.”

  “Does this bitch come with a decoder ring?” I snapped, but she only laughed.

  “I can see why you aren’t taking her as a submissive.”

  Damn right, he wasn’t. I was too busy seething to actually say it out loud.

  “You’ll take her there and show her. It’s the only way to soothe her.” Her instructions were clear, and it left little doubt in my mind that Hammond’s wife had been as deeply entrenched in London’s seamy, sexual underbelly as her husband.

  “We’ll take a look.” His meaning was clear.

  But that didn’t mean I was going to abide by his wishes.

  “You know the way,” she told him. Then she leaned closer and whispered in my ear, “Fall down the rabbit hole and open your mind.”

  My skin crawled from the heat of her breath, but as soon as she said it, she vanished back into the theatre.

  “Show me,” I commanded. Tonight I was calling the shots, and he was going to have to deal with it. Smith motioned toward a corridor and I strode forward. There was no place for fear here, but my blood still pounded erratically in my veins. I’d asked to come here, and now I would face the thing that scared me the most.

  The fear that I couldn’t be what he needed.

  A door painted in gem tones waited at the end of the hall, and Smith opened it for me. There were more people inside than had been in the audience. Apparently, Samantha had the same penchant for covering her sins as her husband. A few heads turned in our direction, but no one spoke as we passed through the richly decorated lounge. On the far side of the room, a large mirror reflected back the scene before me. A naked couple sat on the couch, and at their feet a woman bound in red rope held the end of a leash in her teeth. After my experience at Velvet, I didn’t find this shocking, but it made me queasy. This was the world Smith had once inhabited. It was the world he might still want to be part of, and I wasn’t certain I could exist there with him.