Chapter 10
Given that the entire club had shown up for the game announcement, it wasn’t surprising that they didn’t end up in a playroom off one of the three named courtyards. Instead, Nathan led her to a bedroom in the separate hotel-esque building on the expansive Las Palmas grounds.
What the room lacked in specialized BDSM furniture, trunks full of equipment, and dramatic lighting, it made up for with a relaxed, intimate feel. The dark-wood floor and exposed beams contrasted with the pillowy white linens and plethora of fat white pillar candles.
Most of the candles had turned on with the flick of a switch. Only the half dozen candles safely inside tall, straight-sided glass holders on the heavy wood mantle above the Spanish-tile fireplace were real. Those Nathan lit with a long-necked lighter, and the faint scent of cedar and wax filled the air.
A wide, black iron candelabra, probably meant to go down the center of a mission-style dining table, was set in the fireplace, in place of logs. The glow from the battery-operated pillar candles set on each wax pan was nearly indistinguishable from the glow coming from the real candles, and together, they cast a half-moon of warm light over the floor in front of the fireplace.
If Tara had been even slightly less aroused, she would have campaigned for them to put on comfy robes and take a seat by the fireplace. There was one overstuffed piece of furniture, either a very wide armchair, or a narrow love seat, set at an angle facing the fireplace. It was enough for two, though they’d be squished.
Tara could picture it. Nathan would slouch back, his long legs sprawled and spread. She’d sit sideways, her legs across his, her butt nestled into the space between his thigh and the arm. Then he could prop his book on her leg. They’d done it before, most recently when they were stuck together at an airport and had found themselves a quiet corner. She’d laid out her shawl to protect herself from the dirty airport carpet and lay down, legs draped over his thighs, and he’d propped a book on her shins. Normally she wouldn’t have been able to sleep on the floor of an airport, surrounded by sound and strangers, but she’d drifted into a light sleep because Nathan was there, and she’d known she was safe.
Steering away from that thought, she rubbed her arms to get rid of the goose bumps. He’d helped her put on her shoes and robe before they left the library, but the thin robe wasn’t much defense against the light breeze that swept over the open ground between the main courtyards and this building. Though all around them were the soft hills of the Malibu canyons, the ocean wasn’t far away; it’s presence making itself known in the slight bite of cold contained in the breeze, cutting through an otherwise warm night.
Nathan turned to face her, closing the drawer in the waist-high dresser he’d been peering into. “Cold?”
“Not really.”
“Then take off the robe.”
The walk had taken the edge off her arousal, and she’d expected some transition to ease back into the scene—a conversation, maybe some light touches.
But his tone was low and serious, his brows pinched in a frown as he looked at her robe.
Tara slowly undid the knot in the sash, then paused, remembering what he’d said back in the library.
I want you to fight me so I can hold you down. Make sure you feel exactly how helpless you are because I’m more physically powerful than you.
Tara looked at him from under her lashes. “Make me.”
Nathan inhaled hard, eyes going wide as his gaze jerked up to hers. Tara lifted her chin, looking at him in challenge rather than submission. He took a step toward her, but paused, still hesitant.
They’d both admitted this wasn’t normally how they played, but she wanted this. Wanted it so badly that the want made her reckless and wild.
Even within the safety and structure of a BDSM scene, she wouldn’t have agreed to something like this with anyone but Nathan. Nathan who always had, and maybe always would, make her feel safe.
She wasn’t even sure what the term was for what she wanted—was this primal play? Some sort of intro consensual non-consent? The part of her brain that was always running and analyzing wanted to ask, to define this liquid-heat need to confront him, challenge him, until he took control.
A larger part of her, mostly her pussy, told her brain to shut up and not ruin this for them.
Tara dipped her chin in the tiniest of nods, confirming that this is what she wanted.
Nathan lunged.
She’d expected him to move, but his speed shocked her, and on instinct, Tara scrambled back a few steps, back smacking into the wall.
Nathan’s hands slapped the wall on either side of her head, the sound shocking. She sucked in air and stared at his lips.
When they quirked in a smile, she leaned forward and bit his lower lip, just hard enough to make him jerk back in surprise. Then she ducked under his arm, racing for the door to the bathroom.
Nathan made a sound low in his chest. It was probably technically a groan, but her brain decided to label it a growl, and that made her nipples hard. New fetish unlocked, apparently.
But was it really a new fetish if she was already sure that the only person she’d ever want to explore it with was her best friend? Could a fetish be tied to a single person?
“Your ass ready for what’s about to happen when I catch you?”
Tara grabbed the mission-style footboard of the bed as she passed it, using it as a pivot point to turn to face him. “Is that what you’re going to do if you catch me?” she taunted. “Another spanking?”
Nathan stalked forward one step at a time, like a big cat. This was how she’d expected him to come at her before. “Among other things.”
“You keep mentioning these other things.” Tara took two sideways steps as he approached the foot of the bed. There was a three-foot gap between the headboard and the wall. The bed wasn’t exactly centered in the room, but its placement allowed Doms and Masters easy access to the restraint points in the headboard, and every part of whomever they had on the bed.
She wanted to be that person on the bed, enough that she seriously considered abandoning this game of cat and mouse to throw herself onto the mattress like a good submissive, in the hope that it would get his hands on her faster.
As Nathan took another slow, deliberate step—one she matched with a sideways step toward the head of the bed—she dismissed the idea. She had, and would, willingly give him control, but right now she wanted him to take it.
“Your ass won’t be the only thing I spank,” he assured her.
That caused her to pause and think, and Nathan gained a step.
“Tit spanking?”
“Tit torture actually. So you might want to run.” Nathan lunged, once again startling her into flight.
Tara rounded the top corner of the bed, the soles of her flats slipping a little on the hardwood floor. She took a second to kick them off and that ended up being her downfall.
Nathan had reversed course while she’d been looking at her feet. She’d expected him to be behind her, so the instant her shoes were off, she sprinted forward, rounding the other top corner. But Nathan had doubled back around the foot of the bed.
Tara yelped when she realized he was in front of her and tried to backpedal.
Long arms reached out, gripping her shoulders. He yanked her forward, her chest slapping against his, her head tipped back so she could look up at him, her gaze sliding down to his lips then back up to his eyes. Tara grabbed his hips, digging her fingers into the leather, but didn’t try to push him away.
Nathan smiled, spun them both a quarter turn, and shoved her back. Tara fell onto the bed, her back arched, toes on the floor. Her hands lost their hold on him to bounce down at her sides.
Then Nathan was on top of her, strong hands wrapping around her wrists and pinning her hands beside her head. The toe of one boot wiggled between her bare ankles and kicked her legs wide.
Tara tugged against his hold, even as she raised her legs, hooking her ankles together behind his back. He sank forward, the leather of his pants squeaking against the vinyl gusset that covered her pussy. The pressure against her sex, her clit, was enough to have her moaning and arching up into him even as she continued a perfunctory struggle against his hold on her wrists.
Nathan slid her hands up above her head, stacking her wrists so he could grip them both in one hand. His now-free hand gripped her face, palm under her chin, his fingers and thumb pressing into her cheeks. Tara panted through parted lips, only to have Nathan apply pressure, forcing her mouth open wider.
The way he was touching her would have been horrifying in any other circumstance, and with any other man. With Nathan, it made her almost feverish with arousal. A flush swept down her body, and she moaned low in her throat.
Nathan forced her chin up and to the side, exposing her neck. He kissed her just under her ear, then licked the flesh he’d just kissed.
Her arousal must have made her hypersensitive. Her neck was always responsive to touches, but the sweep of Nathan’s tongue felt like she’d been zapped with a live wire. Tara gasped through forcibly parted lips and tried to hunch her shoulder up into her neck to hide the erogenous zone.
Nathan let out another growl-like sound and buried his face against her neck, forcing her shoulder down. The slight stubble on his chin rasped against the base of her neck, the robe she still wore preventing her from feeling his touch on her shoulder. He kissed her below the ear before dragging his lips along the underside of her jaw. A heavy shiver shook her.
“Sensitive here,” he murmured.
“Not normally this sensitive,” she mumbled, not really able to talk, given that he still gripped her face.
Nathan adjusted his hold, now tenderly cupping one cheek before sliding his thumb into her mouth.
“Suck.”
She sucked and licked his thumb, desperate and needy, then stilling and whimpering when he went back to kissing and licking that spot high on her neck. Again and again, she shivered in reaction to the soft touches on sensitive skin.
Coupled with the way he held her down, the weight of his body on hers had Tara lightheaded with need. She felt wild and reckless, but also terribly, deeply submissive.
He pulled his thumb from her mouth, lifting up so he could look down at her. He fiddled with the knot in the belt of her robe for only a moment before giving up and simply yanking each side of the robe open, exposing her bare breasts.
He swiped his wet thumb over each nipple, the touch too quick for her to really enjoy, but the slight chill it left behind made her feel deliciously vulnerable.
“I think I’ll start with a taste.” The words were so soft and low she wasn’t even sure if he was talking to her or himself.
Planting his hand beside her waist, Nathan lowered his head, kissing her sternum before sliding his lips along her breast to her nipple. The teasing back in the library had been torturous, and for a moment, she thought it would continue and she’d feel nothing but his hot breath.
Nathan’s tongue swirled around her in a long, slow lick.
Tara let out a moan that was half relief, half pleasure. Waiting for this had become its own sort of torture. Maybe she could tell him that, make the case that the teasing and waiting together satisfied the tit torture requirement.
Except that the waiting also made her want. Want touched both tender and cruel. She wanted to know what he would do to her breasts. What this smart, kind, dominant man would classify as torture.
He lifted his head, blowing on her now-wet areola. The skin ruched up tight around her hard nipple. A shiver worked its way down her.
“Cold?”
“No, Sir.”
Nathan made pleased noises, then took the tip of her nipple between his teeth, biting gently and tugging. He lifted his head. At first just enough to stretch her nipple, her tightened areola having to relax. Then he kept going, lifting so the weight of her tit was pulling on her nipple. Pain and pleasure nipped at her, and she arched her back to relieve some of the weight. Her eyes had slid closed, but now she opened them, staring at the sight of her distended breast and the contrast between her flesh and his white teeth.
Nathan’s thick lashes partially veiled his gaze as he looked at her, his teeth firmly holding her nipple in a delicate but inescapable bite. He touched the very tip of her nipple with his tongue. The touch was so precise and focused that the resulting jolt almost felt like pain. Except her pussy throbbed with need.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she panted. “That’s… I…”
Nathan released her nipple, her breast jiggling as the soft mass shifted. Transferring his attention to her other breast, he licked the peak, his soft, wet tongue dragging over sensitive flesh. He blew over the tip of her breast, but she was so warm from arousal that this time, her areola didn’t bunch tight around the tip of her breast.
He made a displeased sound, and when he bit her nipple, it was harder than what he’d done to the other breast. Rather than just a firm holding pinch, this came with a bite of true pain. Pain that had her arching up into him, seeking more.
He lifted his head, stretching her breast. It started to throb just as he applied the pointed tip of his tongue to the flat end of her nipple. Pleasure zinged through her, sharp and unexpected, and for a moment, she thought was going to come from this alone. She held perfectly still, even holding her breath as she focused on the feeling.
Muscles low in her torso clenched, as did her vagina, the pleasure quick but soft.
Nathan must have noticed her stillness because he released her breast, which bounced and jiggled.
“Did you just come?”
“I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “It wasn’t an orgasm orgasm but it was really close.”
Nathan’s satisfied smirk would have been irritating on anyone else. “Maybe I should suggest to the overseers that we add tit orgasm to the checklist under T.”
“Maybe you should check to see if the experiment can be replicated.”
“And then some peer review.”
Tara stared up at him, fighting a smile. When he didn’t say more, she arched a brow. “No double entendre about how you’re my peer and going to review this?” She motioned at her own naked body with her chin.
“No. Because I’m not your peer. Not right now.”
Once more, with dizzying ease, they’d slipped from the scene, to friendship, and now back to scene. Submission slid over her like a warm shadow, and Tara went pliant under him, her body soft except for her legs which were still hooked around his waist.
“Who am I to you Tara?”
Alarm bells went off in the back of her mind because that question felt heavy and dangerous.
For one terrifying moment, she wanted to be brutally honest. If she was, the answer would be “my safe place.”
Also true but less dangerous was, “my best friend.”
More situationally appropriate, but no less dangerous was, “my master.” Within the community, there were different uses of the word. For some, it was the ultimate sign of submission, that also signaled a permanence and formality in the relationship. For others, it was a title of respect.
For her, it was a sign of trust, because in her mind, there were things she’d let her master do to her that she wouldn’t allow with someone who was merely a scene partner. And the fact that she wanted to use it with Nathan, when they’d barely started, was insane.
In the end, Tara went for a safe, and only slightly dangerous answer. “My Dom.”
Nathan stared at her for a moment and she couldn’t help but think that he was disappointed.
“That’s right,” he said in that low, dominant tone. “Which means I’m going to play with…” Another smirk. “No, not play. I’m going to torture these pretty tits.”
Tara held her breath, waiting, but Nathan pushed up to standing, reaching back to uncurl her legs from around his waist, and hooking his elbows under her knees, holding her legs up, knees spread wide.
“Knees or on your feet?” he asked, tone making it clear he was asking a logistical question rather than teasing or tormenting.
It took her a minute to process his question, her attention held by anticipation. She was all too aware of her vulnerable, naked breasts framed by the sides of her robe. She hadn’t moved her arms even though he’d released her wrists, so her tits were unguarded, her nipples sensitive from the touch of tongue and teeth, and throbbing faintly from being stretched.
“Feet,” she said after an awkwardly long pause, shaking her head as if that would jolt her brain into working.
Nathan lowered her legs, but given the height of the mattress, once her toes touched down, it forced her back into a high, uncomfortable arch. She started to prop herself up on her elbows, but Nathan’s hands were sliding under her—one under her back, the other cupping her neck. He raised her upper body until she was half sitting, half leaning on the side of the bed.
“You’re unexpectedly good at manhandling,” she breathed.
He pushed her robe off her shoulders. “I’m not sure if I should say thank you for the compliment, or be insulted that you thought I had such a loose grasp of physics that I wouldn’t be able to figure out how to move another person around.”
Tara’s gaze dropped to his arms as she undid the knot in the robe sash. “It’s not just physics. You’re…muscly.”
“I kind of like that after all these years I can still surprise you.”
And I’m going to surprise you, when I tell you what I’m doing with my life.
Nathan stepped back, and she watched as he prepared. An iron chandelier with faux candlelights proved to be more than just lighting when Nathan tossed white nylon rope over one of the crosspieces and gave it a tug, looking satisfied when it didn’t move.
He rooted around in a drawer for a few minutes, carefully laying out the things he wanted on top of the dresser. He didn’t hide anything from her, but at the same time, the candlelight didn’t provide enough illumination in that part of the room for her to see the smaller items, though some had a metallic glint that made her think nipple clamps.
She could clearly see a flogger and variety of crops.
When Nathan turned, she craned to get a better view at his selections, not looking at him even as he returned to the bed, lifted her arm, and buckled a cuff around her wrist.
“Looking for spoilers?” he asked.
“Is it meant to be a surprise?”
“No surprises,” he said more seriously, fastening the other cuff. “Not with this.”