Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Ray woke the next morning with a heavy weight on her chest—and she froze. She opened her eyes slightly, but the pressure on her breasts wasn’t a man’s arm but a very smug cat.
Am I happy or sad it’s not Drake?
Last night, wide awake after her shower, she’d invited Drake to watch a movie with her, thinking they’d go back downstairs. Instead, he saw the screen on the wall, tucked her into bed, piled up pillows against the cushy tufted leather headboard, and joined her.
As they were scrolling and discussing the available shows, she spotted a movie George had talked about—Jaws. She loved horror, especially fantasy and sci-fi kinds. Jaws wasn’t fantasy, but the movie was so old—how could it even be scary?
Mistake.
Gods, she might never go swimming again.
But when she was scared, Drake had pulled her close, and she’d curled up against him. He’d rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, and then when the movie was over, he’d given her a squeeze and switched over to cartoons.
And she’d fallen asleep.
Turning her head, she saw the pillows were still piled up on the other side of the bed, the covers undisturbed. He hadn’t taken advantage of being here.
She rubbed the funny ache in her chest.
In college, she’d learned the hard way that when a man said he only needed a place to crash and wouldn’t try anything, they lied. How many times had she woken up to being groped or having a dick nudging her ass as if the fact that a man had a hard-on obligated a woman to do something about it.
There were times she hated the male gender.
But Drake…hadn’t tried anything. Oh, they’d shared a few kisses here and there. She’d been willing for more. Being a Dom, he could probably tell.
Instead, he’d been what George would consider honorable.
Thinking of which, she picked up her phone from the nightstand and texted Mac to say she was alive and well—and Drake was a gentleman.
Getting back a happy face and a thumbs up, she laughed.
She stroked a hand down Max’s plush fur. “You, Sir Feline, are no gentleman cat. Look how you simply assumed I’d be okay with your paws on my breasts.”
He purred.
“Yes, I know they’re nice and squishy. But you’re not the one I wanted doing pushy-paws on my breasts.”
A smoky-sounding laugh came from the hallway. “I might remember how to—how is it said—make biscuits?”
“Drake.” She felt her face turning hot.
Max jumped off the bed to collect a quick stroking, then Drake sat down on the bed. His hip was against hers as he smiled down at her. “You look much better today.”
She swallowed, trying to think of something to say, all too aware of how close he was. Of the thinness of the aged T-shirt he’d pulled out of her drawers, to wear as a token nightgown. Of his clean, fresh scent, and the whiteness of his teeth against dark facial hair.
His gaze held hers as he reached out, pausing over her chest, giving her time to protest, then slowly ran his knuckles over one breast. Over the jutting nipple. The lightest of touches and it sent an electric pleasure blossoming outward.
The sunlines at the corner of his eyes deepened. “Yes, we will have to play. Soon.” He lifted her arms over her head, securing her wrists with one hand. And his other hand firmly cupped one breast, lifting it, kneading, the pure exquisite sensation of being fondled making her toes curl.
She managed to haul her brain back long enough to ask. “Soon. Not now?”
“Ah, non, désolée. I let you sleep late.” He tugged on one nipple, then the other, making her gasp.
“You’re scheduled to assemble swag bags for the convention.
We must get moving now since you wanted to get your car from Bloedel on the way to the ferry.
You can leave it at the terminal, and I’ll drive in Seattle. ”
He was talking about her car, and she didn’t care what he was saying.
Under his firm touch, her back arched up in an unspoken demand for more.
She wanted to beg.
Dammit. Duty sucks.
With Drake beside her, Ray walked down the hallway in the hotel, pleased at the lack of pain in her knee. The clamor in the hotel conference room was loud as Ray walked through the doorway.
Drake squeezed her fingers—and wasn’t it fun he liked to walk holding hands?—and tugged her to the left to clear the doorway for others.
Leaning back against the wall, she took a slow survey of the room. A room full of people could be overwhelming, but getting an overall picture helped.
Cthulhu’s tentacles, but this time, she’d need every trick in her toolbox. The frantic energy in here was like an overturned anthill.
Doubled-up conference tables ran from one side of the room to the other. Each seat at the table was marked with a number and had an opened box or bin. Some had additional boxes stacked behind the chair. People milled around, greeting old friends, and looking for their places.
Beside her, Drake waited, letting her take everything in.
When she looked up at him, he smiled. “All right?”
“I guess. It’s actually not as bad as I thought.” Near the door, volunteers were quickly checked in and assigned to specific chairs. One by one, people were sitting down, checking their boxes, and cheerfully conversing with the others around them. “It’s well organized.”
“This is the convention’s sixth year. Each year, we get more efficient and eliminate more glitches.
Like in our first year, we weren’t prepared for how popular the dungeon would be—not enough space, not enough staff.
” Drake’s cheek creased with his smile. “Of course, there are always new problems cropping up.”
“Huh. I wonder what you’ll run into this year.” Maybe she’d get to help with fixing things. It was something she did enjoy doing and—
“Ray.” Resting a hand on the wall over her head, he leaned in close enough she could feel his body’s warmth. Could breathe in his light citrusy scent that made her want to nibble on—
“Aralia.”
Yikes, focus, Ray. “Uh-huh?”
His voice deepened as he asked, “Are you going to invite me over for tonight?”
Did he want to see her again or…was this him being responsible? “Um, my knee is fine now.”
“I’m aware.” His lips quirked. “I am asking if you want company in that big bed of yours.”
Oh. Oh yes.
No, Ray. You’re one-hundred percent asking for heartbreak.
Yes, Ray. Pain is part of living.
She looked up into patient black eyes. He hadn’t moved, was waiting for her to work things out in her head. And his self-control was as compelling as his invitation to have sex.
Okay then. She wasn’t going to hide in a box to stay safe. Life is for living. “Hey, Chains cop, want to come and commit some crimes in my big bed?”
His laughter wasn’t loud, but was full-bodied and…oh, so contagious. “Yes, ma chérie, I’d be delighted. Although I should handcuff you and teach you what happens to little criminals.”
Her mouth dropped open—and flames roared up, so hot and passionate she could actually feel herself flush.
His gaze heated, and he lowered his head. An inch from her lips, he murmured, “Text me when you’re finished here, and I will pick you up.” Cupping her face, he kissed her with a demanding, thorough possessiveness.
Lifting his head, he rubbed the wetness from her lips with his callused thumb. “Soon, mon petit chou.”
And he straightened and strolled out of the room, lifting his hand in greeting to the people at the door.
Ray took a minute to get her breathing back under control.
Wow.
And the bastard Dom had called her a cabbage again. Deliberately when she didn’t have any brain cells left to respond.
She pulled in another breath. Okay. Time to work. Trying not to notice the people staring at her, she joined the line in front of the sign-in desk.
“That looked like a pleasant kiss.” Rather than gushing, the lean, brunette woman behind Ray sounded as if she was simply offering a conversational opening.
Nice. With a smile, Ray admitted, “My legs are still shaking.”
The older, short woman in front of Ray turned. “Getting kissed by Master Drake? I am not surprised in the least. Hi, Ray, remember me? Claudia from behind the bar.”
“It’s so nice to know someone.” She beamed at Claudia, then turned back to smile at the tall brunette. “I’m new.”
“Hi, Ray. I’m Faylee and tend to be terrified of new places and strangers. You’re brave.” The brunette crinkled her nose in a teasing way. “And taking on Drake? Very brave.”
Ray laughed. Had Drake offered much of a choice? No, not true. He’d given her the chance to say no every step of the way.
She had only herself to blame.
After getting signed in and given a chair number, she went in search of her seat. And was delighted to realize Claudia and Faylee were stationed on each side of her.
Yay! Two people who’d be fun to talk with.
As the assembly tables filled with people, the person in charge gave instructions. Each person was to put a promotional item from the box in front of them into a swag bag, then pass the bag on.
Ray’s box held pens with a BDSM equipment store brand. Claudia had hand flyers promoting a Master/slave organization. Faylee’s tub contained tiny hand sanitizer bottles from an online sex-toy store.
“There are so many cool things.” Looking down the table, she saw flyers, lanyards, temp tatts, pins, snacks, sunglasses, and shot glasses as well as kinky-themed condoms, tissues, and disinfectant wipes.
Across the table from her, a clean-shaven man was looking through the lube packets in his box.
“Lube is so appropriate for a BDSM con.” Ray tilted her head. “Are you doing quality control?”
He laughed. “Checking out the different varieties. Like”—he held up a green-colored packet—“this one has peppermint in it. Perfect for a masochistic bottom.”
Peppermint on the tender bits? “Ouch. Oh, I’m Ray.”
“Shawn from Chains. What club are you with?”
“Oh, right. I forgot they got volunteers from all the sponsoring organizations. I’m from Chains too.”