What You Crave (1Night Stand): Desperately Seeking Submissive Page 5

  Kanoa nodded in acknowledgement and then left as fast as he arrived.

  Sig took Lauren’s hands in his. “I’m sorry. Looks like the coffee table will have to wait. In fact, maybe it’s best to call it a night.”

  He didn’t miss the hurt in her eyes, but too late to turn back. Too risky, as well. “I can have a car take you—”

  “I thought you didn’t like playing games. I understand you’ve got business to take care of, but it appears you’re using it as an excuse to dismiss me.” She wrenched away from him, gathering her clothes quickly.

  “It’s no game.” The evening had been anything but, turning into the type of emotional flaying session he wanted to avoid. She’d wormed her way past all his defenses, found cracks in his armor. Made him want things he abandoned a year ago. It had to stop. Now. “My business requires my attention. I can’t throw away the responsibility, not when I’ve worked so hard to restore this casino.”

  “Of course. When you’ve buried your feelings again then you can trust yourself, right? You wanted me to give myself up to the chaos, to the messy parts of me. Your words made the whole night…more. For lack of a better word, there’s more here." She dropped the robe then, right in front of him, and stepped into her lace boy cut shorts, continuing to speak as each article of clothing found its way back onto her body. It became hard to focus when he wanted to take her right there, in all her righteous fury and fire. “Emotions are messy, and real interactions with people can be the same. Like kink, they can hurt. The pain equal to the pleasure means you’re alive. Lock out those parts of ordinary, everyday things, push them away, and you’ll be nothing more than a shell. As a therapist it’s one thing I’ve learned the hard way. You can’t expect to walk away from what we did without any effect—” She paused, tugging on her dress. Then she straightened her frame and faced him again. “I wish you’d at least given me the option to stay.”

  He took a deep breath, summoning his courage. Alpha in the bedroom and boardroom, but in this instance he found himself adrift like a roulette wheel without a dealer. “I can’t.”

  She sighed and sat down, sliding her stocking feet into the boots, her concentration on zipping them up. Frustrated, no doubt, and he readied for the yelling to start, except she did the exact opposite. No fit, no tantrum like other women he’d dated in years past. No tears, either. When she stood, her face represented calm personified, a mask of acceptance in place. “I’ll leave you to take care of your business. Thanks for a nice evening. I can find my own way out and my own way home.”

  Her words wounded and cinched his gut like a tightening slip knot. Guilt gnawed. Yes, he lied again, but he didn’t want to face the prospect of someone faking their interest in his kink and desires. Pretending to love him when they didn’t. Still— "Lauren.” He stepped out from the behind the desk, reached for her. “I’m not ready for more. This is all I have to give.”

  She gave a half-hearted smile. “Funny how when it’s sex or a scene you expect trust, but you’re not willing to trust others with anything. I’m no good at being in one-sided arrangements, Sigmund.”

  “I’m not asking you to be.” Damn. He’d survived so far, and she was the unlucky one who got him for his first scene in a year. It must be why he’d gone off the deep end, suckered into something so much more. Cutting ties would be for the best.

  She put on her coat, hugging the flaps together and flipping up the collar. “Then you understand when I tell you I won’t settle for less than equal emotional engagement.”

  “I understand.”

  She walked out the door.

  He stood there for a few minutes trying to figure out how he could get her back. Shaking his head, he turned his focus to the mess with his uncle. They needed to finish this once and for all. The pain dulled, anger covering up most of the mess. No time to wallow.

  ***

  Lauren kept her composure until she climbed into the back of the cab. She got the name of the hotel out before her eyes blurred and tears tracked down her face. The cold, distant asshole she left acted the complete opposite of the searching, caring man she’d arrived with. No, he ran scared at the mention of giving any more of himself to her, though he’d asked for all of her.

  She’d given blindly, letting him truss her up and do things, calling to the parts of her she longed to hide. When he’d called out her name, she lost a bit of herself to him. He represented so many things she wanted— a safe harbor for her desires and a chance to find refuge from the strains of her job. Sure, it was ridiculous to expect a full relationship to emerge from one night, but at least she was willing to entertain the prospect. He’d awoken emotional needs in her and then ripped away the security blanket he offered before she had a chance to come to terms with everything. The idea of facing the aftermath alone had her hugging herself in the backseat of the cab, sobbing and shivering.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  “Fine,” she said between sniffles. “Just cold.”

  “I’ll turn up the heat, then.”

  The warmest furnace wouldn’t mend her aching chest, or the painful throb that took up residence the moment Sig turned away from her. It would only serve as a reminder of how she got burned.

  She’d enjoy the rest of the night in the hotel suite, maybe take a nice long bath to soak away her misgivings. He’d awakened her desires. Time to consider how to handle them and her future without him.

  ***

  Sig stalked to the elevator, pounded the keys, and damn near assaulted the steel walls. When the doors opened to the penthouse suite, he’d calmed himself marginally. Two security officers stood outside the entrance, and one clasped a doorknob, holding the door open for him. Still too pissed to talk, his thank you came out more like a grunt.

  The room, white and bright, gave the impression of heaven. Cream-colored walls, carpets and furniture, all trimmed in gold. Yet God didn’t sit on the couch. His uncle sat there in a brocade robe, dress trousers, and slippers, smoking a cigar with one hand and grasping a glass of whiskey in the other.

  “I’ll be damned if my nephew hasn’t decided to grace me with his presence.”

  He chose not to respond just yet. Instead he sat down on the opposite love seat, sinking into the cool, microsuede surface. “Evening, Ed. Mind telling me why my bodyguard interrupted my date?”

  His uncle shrugged. “No clue. I had a friendly game of Texas Hold’em with your CEO friend.”

  “Really? I think our definitions of friendly are in opposition.”

  Sig would admit he ignored his uncle’s antics for too long. In his grief he didn’t want to deal with anyone else’s. He’d done his duty by bringing Isle of Bermuda back from the brink.

  “It’s a game. People can wager whatever they want.”

  “Yes, but this suite isn’t yours to wager. I’ve let you stay here out of respect for my father. You’ve used the time to alienate multiple whales and put my restoration project at risk. Why?”

  “You’re killing this place,” Ed growled. “You’re a young pup, with no respect for the older generation. Before Bernard’s death you were always gallivanting around, going to those kink clubs. Now you lock yourself off, pander to the young crowd, even opening a nightclub in the casino.” Pushing off the couch, his uncle paced back and forth. “All I want is to offer some alternatives, have a voice like I did with your father, but you don’t listen.”

  “And you trying to ruin relationships with the whales I am attracting shows me I should listen?” Sig stood too, fists clenched. The man had balls trying to call him out, when he’d done nothing but live off the casino for the entire year.

  His uncle stopped and faced him, eyes filled with hurt. “You wouldn’t give me the time of day, otherwise. I tried coming to the office, but your muscle always told me you weren’t available. Your father’s not the only one who devoted a lot to this casino. But trying to get a meeting with you over food— impossible. Running into you on the floor, the opportunities were few and
far between. Those moments I did get, you always cut me off before giving me a chance.”

  A rock lodged itself into Sig’s stomach as the instances replayed in his mind. Sure he’d brushed his uncle off, but not because he didn’t care. More like he cared too much and the best way to avoid personal conversations was to bury himself in work.

  “You’ve grown cold, son.” Ed walked around the table and put a hand on his shoulder. “Untouchable and detached. You’re so lost in everything I started to worry I’d lose you, too.”

  “Really?”

  Ed pulled him into a stiff hug.

  His initial reaction was to push away, but then his uncle whispered in his ear. “This whole thing…I just wanted to get your attention. To have a chance.”

  The hug meant something then, and guilt swamped him. He loosened his limbs and gripped his uncle tight. “You’ve got it.”

  Several throats cleared and the two men separated. Expressing emotions needed to be kept brief, after all, appearances were required.

  “All right, so my whale is fine?”

  “No, but I’ll smooth those edges myself if you’ll give me a chance.”

  “Here’s your shot, Uncle. Don’t screw it up.”

  “I won’t and I’m sorry for taking you away from whatever you were working on.”

  He’d been working all right, and the reminder of Lauren’s face, angry and frustrated, popped into his mind. Damn. If he hadn’t given her the same treatment he delivered to those closest to him, maybe she’d still be in his office right now. The one person not willing to put up with the shit he dished out was Kanoa, probably due to their past, best buds and repaying debts—crap not easily tossed aside. Others hadn’t gone those extra miles and to be honest they shouldn’t have had to.

  “Uncle?”

  “Yes?”

  He clasped Ed on the shoulder, “Can we continue our conversation tomorrow, over dinner?”

  His uncle laughed. “Really? No backing out this time.”

  “I won’t, I’ll make sure reservations are at The Triangle. I’d like your thoughts on the place, since I’m thinking about a remodel.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “You’ll fix things with the whale?” He walked backwards toward the door.

  “I’ll take care of it. Get out of here and enjoy the rest of your night.”

  He crossed his fingers and made for the elevator. Maybe she went back to the hotel. If so, he’d have a chance to apologize. She deserved an apology. No, she deserved a hell of a lot more.

  “You need anything?” Kanoa asked.

  “No, unless you’ve got some good advice on how to win a woman back.”

  His bodyguard chuckled. “I’m the wrong person to ask, but good luck.”

  ***

  Lauren sat down on the couch and picked up the glass of red wine, remnants of the bottle they’d opened during dinner. It helped, along with the other relaxation tactics she’d employed since arriving back at the hotel room. A hot bath, a glass of wine, and now… hell, she didn’t know what to do. Her mind wandered back to Sig and his strange behavior, which reminded her to be thankful he’d shown his true colors. He gave her the best orgasm of her life and mind-blowing sex, but still— A knock at the door echoed with a staccato beat, followed by an additional three solid taps in rhythm.

  Better answer it, in case it was someone with the hotel. She glanced through the peephole—holy shit! Sig stood on the other side, an extra button on his collar undone, hair ruffled, with a frown. He raised his arm to knock again and she hesitated, but curiosity got the best of her. One question—she had to know.

  “What do you want?”

  He lowered his arm. “A chance to apologize. To explain my attitude earlier.”

  “Go on.”

  He tugged on a tuft of his hair. No wonder it appeared messy. The image of the crisp, composed, businessman long gone. “Is there any chance I could explain things without including the entire hotel floor?”

  A bit exaggerated, she doubted every room had occupants and if there were people in every room, they had more interesting things to do. Regardless, she found herself flipping the top lock and opening the door. She moved with it, stepping back to allow him inside, and shut the only barrier keeping them apart. When she turned to acknowledge him, he’d already taken up position on the chair, elbows on his knees.

  Walking over, she sat across from him on the coffee table. The urge to reach out and hold him overwhelmed her. For some reason she wanted to offer comfort, with an instinct to be a rock for the wayward or tortured soul.

  “What did you need to say?”

  His eyes searched hers. “I’m not good at embracing people. Tonight I found out I’m not good at relationships at all and my uncle, of all people, had to practically get me to kick him out of the casino to get my attention. You wanted my acknowledgement that you are worth my time, and you deserve to be treated like your time is valued. I threw it away for a shitty reason.”

  “I’m still not sure what you mean.”

  Sig chuckled. “No, I’m not making much sense.” He shoved himself up to a standing position, grabbing her hands. “Your time is worth something, and I’m sorry for not showing you earlier, in my office, how much I appreciated you giving it to me.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to one set of knuckles. “Along with your body.” Another butterfly caress of lips on skin to the other set. “And your trust.”

  Letting go of her, he sat back down. “Thank you.”

  She remembered to breath, the tenderness and the love—yes, she knew how love appeared and somehow he possessed it for her— visible in each kiss and in his unwavering gaze. “Thank you.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “For what?”

  “For showing me the part of you into bondage and the parts you’ve been hiding from everyone else.”

  She stood, interlocking their fingers and tugging. “Follow me.”

  They walked over to the bedroom door, and she stopped there, let go and gazed at him.

  “What do you want?” His question came with narrowed eyes. He’d taken over control again, which suited her fine.

  “You, naked. Show me all of you.” A true test in her opinion, since every sexual and bondage scene they’d had this evening resulted in him keeping the majority of his clothes intact, like battle armor.

  He shed the coat, the shoes, the socks, and then— “Undo the buttons on my shirt.”

  The command spawned immediate arousal and she reached forward, following his order. She tempered her inner desire to rush, to hurry this along and expose his chest. Instead, she took her time, using it to determine if this was what she wanted.

  Did she believe his words? They’d both been played or hurt by ones they loved. In some ways, they’d both lost big when it came to relationships. Her gut told her he wouldn’t risk this much for a simple screw.

  “You can trust me. I need you, not sex… not ropes. I plan to take you. No games, no mindfuck. Just me, in your body.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not what I crave.” Pausing from her current task, she took one of his tanned, long-fingered hands and wrapped it around her wrist. “I like how I look bound by you. You wrapped around me is sexier than without any bondage at all.”

  He released her, and those fingers cupped her chin. “So you want my ropes.”

  “As much as I want you.”

  ***

  Inside the dam broke, and Sig yanked her against his body and into a kiss, sharp, hot, with dueling tongues. She gave him another chance and then confessed to being into his kink, to desiring it like he did. This woman represented a blessing. He had to show her. He pulled back and she whimpered with blatant desire. Her nipples pebbled against the thin purple fabric of her robe. No doubt she was already wet for him.

  “Take off the robe and sit on the coffee table.”

  She walked away, trailing her fingernails along his abdomen and his eager cock jerked in his pants.

  He went
into the bedroom to retrieve his ropes and strip from his clothes. When he returned to the living room, she’d perched herself on the one end of the rectangular wood table, facing away from him with her hair loose and reaching the middle of her back. Legs crossed, she swung a foot in the air making small circles. He dropped the two skeins of rope on the table.

  The thud had her glancing at him over her shoulder with a knowing smile, then her jaw dropped. “You’re gorgeous.”

  Heat bloomed in his cheeks. A woman made him blush. “Silence, remember, or you get punished.”

  “If punishment involves your body, I’ll take it.”

  “You read my mind.” He stared down at her. She reached up with those long fingers, dragging her nails across his straining erection. “Lay back.”

  Lust blazed her eyes, but she did as he asked, flat on her back, exposed and magnificent, her pert breasts with rock-hard nipples saluting the air. He started to kneel but bent instead to pay homage and suckle her. His hands were already working both chains loose. He planned to work fast, for some reason his patience had been stretched thin. But he didn’t want to disappoint, not after she expressed her love for the bondage.

  Pressing kisses to her stomach he followed his own trail across her soft skin, until he reached her golden curls, nuzzling them to smell her. He licked her arousal from the tip of his nose, and then proceeded to swipe at her sex, from the slit to the clit. She shivered, but remained silent.

  Trained well at multi-tasking, he grasped her ankle and backed it against a table leg, then wound the rope around both, in at least four loops. Probing her vulva with his tongue, he wound the nylon and tied off one end, securing the first ankle.

  From there everything went wild. She moaned and he lost the urge to finish binding her until she came. He switched to sole clit stimulation, shoving two fingers roughly inside her. She bucked against his mouth, and then her back arched, crying out his name when she came, her vaginal walls milking his fingers. The sounds, the sensations, became too much. He wanted to take her now.