Bring On the Heat Read online

  “You can tell me why later. You mentioned in your emails that you teach art at the city college, but you’ve also said you’re an artist, which isn’t always necessarily the same thing, in my mind. What medium?”

  He saw her nostrils dilate the tiniest bit, thrown by his rapid change in conversation—something he’d done on purpose.

  “It changes. Right now I love pen and ink, the starkness of it. And charcoal. I haven’t been using any color lately, just exploring lines, shapes, contrast.” She paused, looking uncertain. “I’m sorry. That was probably more than you wanted to know.”

  “On the contrary. I do want to know. Everything. And I love the way your eyes light up talking about it. I love seeing the passion on your face.”

  She blushed, a pink sheen rising in her high, curved cheeks. He reached for her hand again and watched the blush deepen. He pulled it toward him, turning it over to inspect the tattoo curling around her left wrist: a small, sinuous piece done in a dark, tribal style. He looked up at her, surprised, letting her hand go. “A phoenix?”

  “Yes. It represents rebirth.”

  “I know. I have one, too.”

  “A tattoo?”

  He nodded. “A phoenix.”

  A small laugh from her. “What a strange coincidence.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences. I’ll show it to you eventually.”

  “Will you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She nodded her head, trying to appear calm, but her nervousness radiated off her in waves as she pulled her hand back, along with a subtle, smoky scent that made his cock harden. That was all right, she could be nervous. She should be, if she had any idea what he planned to do to her. An image of her tied naked to his bed flashed in his head and his cock sprang to life.

  Yes, have to get her there.

  What had gotten into him? He’d better get back on track.

  “You’ve seen my references,” he said. “I’ve read the list of desires you e-mailed to me, things you’d like to try. The things you’re interested in—bondage, spanking, floggers—all of these things interest me, as well. We’ll be a good match. I’m going to send you a very thorough questionnaire. You may have seen some of them online—they’re used all the time by those of us in the BDSM community. There are a few things on there you probably hadn’t thought about. I want you to think about them, every one. To really think about how you feel about it now, how you might feel about it in the future. Don’t just give an off-the-cuff answer, alright?”

  “Yes, sure.”

  She was visibly shaking now. But he understood it was as much from excitement as from fear. He could see it in the way her pupils had widened as soon as he’d mentioned the kink, the way her breath had sped up.

  Not that he minded if she was a little afraid. That only made it more exciting. Domination and submission, sadomasochism, were all about an energy exchange, after all. He fed off her energy. Pleasure, fright, it was all the same at that level. And this woman, as controlled as she tried to be, unconsciously wore her emotions on her sleeve.

  To play her would be fantastic. He couldn’t wait to begin.

  She could always change her mind. That was part of the power exchange, why it was an exchange and not simply a power trip for the Dom—the submissive’s ability to say no, to call an end to a scene. To say no before it even started, if that’s what they truly wanted. He never forgot that. But he wanted this woman in a way that shook him.

  He didn’t want her to change her mind, damn it.

  “I’ll e-mail you as soon as I get home with the questionnaire,” he went on. “There will be some other things, instructions. Let’s talk a little now about how I do things. Once we negotiate our terms I will absolutely stick to them. You need to trust that in order for this to work. Because once you’re in my hands you’re turning everything over to me. With the exception that, because of what we’ve negotiated, and because of the safe words, you always ultimately have control over what happens to you. From our e-mail conversations, I gather you’re not looking for the kind of total submission involved in a Master/slave scenario, is that right?”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not for me. I think I’m more of a ‘bottom’ than a true submissive, if I understand the things I’ve read correctly. It’s more the sensation, my mind getting to a certain space…I want to go to that edge without…crossing over it. Does that make sense?”

  He nodded. “Kink is different for each of us. That’s why these negotiations are so crucial. I train each submissive to do to perfection whatever it is that serves their particular need. That’s what it’s about for me.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it that way before.” She paused a moment. “May I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “What fulfills your needs, Adam?”

  Christ, her eyes were beautiful. Gleaming. He felt another sharp tug of desire in his groin.

  “Doing wicked things to beautiful girls like you.” He grinned and she batted her lashes, her cheeks flaming. “There are things I’m not into, like anyone else. I’m not into foot worship, for instance. Or the idea of owning someone, making them sleep on the floor at the foot of my bed. Making them clean my floor, be my footstool. Personally, I’m against verbal humiliation. I won’t work with a girl who feels a need for that. Almost everything else is negotiable. Except that I have one unbreakable rule—I never sleep with a woman I’m training.”

  Her pupils widened the tiniest bit. “Never?”

  He grinned at her. “Are you saying you’d want me to, Skye?”

  “I…it just seems odd that you’d do these things without being…titillated.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say that.” He leaned into her again, took her wrist in his hand once more, felt her pulse racing beneath her skin. Felt the answering pulse-beat in his cock. He ignored it. “But I am very disciplined. How can I expect you to be if I can’t control my own urges?”

  She nodded. ‘Yes, I guess that makes sense. But there will be…”

  “Sexual contact? Absolutely, if you agree to it. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I left you hanging, would I?”

  Her cheeks went scarlet. He loved to see it. Loved to see her flustered.

  “What I am interested in, Skye,” he went on, “is eliciting a certain response from those I play with. The mind-fuck. And there is always mind-fuck, at some level. Like right now.” He watched her blush deepen even more. “But it’s always a bonus when the woman I’m training wants—needs—the things I enjoy the most. Icing on the cake of kink. I want you to experience pleasure, of course. And pain. I want to take you into subspace. Get you to a place where you question your boundaries—that’s exciting for me.”

  “I’m not sure I want to question my boundaries,” she said, her voice quiet, quavering.

  “Really? Isn’t that what you’re doing already by being here, talking with me about this?”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t know…maybe. Yes, I guess that’s true. But that’s not what I meant.”

  “You don’t want me to push you, is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “But that’s part of it, Skye. If I don’t push you, you’ll never be forced to answer certain questions about yourself. Like, how much can you take?”

  “Oh…”

  Her cheeks were really burning now. He loved to see that he’d thrown her, made that process of questioning herself begin already, here in the quiet café.

  He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles, felt her answering shiver. He said very quietly, “I intend to push you, Skye. To test those limits. That’s where the real journey begins. So, tell me again. Are you still in? Do you still want this?”

  She blinked a few times, then focused her big brown eyes on him. “Yes. I’m in. I want this.”

  Pleasure swarmed his veins. “Excellent. Do you know about safe words?”

  She nodded. “I’m to use ‘yellow’ if I want to slow down a scene,
if I can’t handle something you’re doing, and ‘red’ if I need to stop completely. That’s what I’ve read, mostly.”

  “Perfect. Remember your safe words. Don’t be embarrassed to use them. That’s the only thing you’re responsible for during play. I’ll be responsible for everything else. Everything. You will be in my hands. I will absolutely respect the boundaries we’ve negotiated. You’ll have to trust me in that, to know with utter certainty that I will, so you’re able to let go. Do you understand?”

  She swallowed—he could see her throat working for a moment before she spoke. “Yes. I understand.” She paused. “And we’re to…play in private? Or at one of those clubs?”

  “I do frequent some of the clubs. Does that interest you? There’s a place called The Ring. It’s pretty wild—it’s part of a dance club. Great for those with an exhibitionistic streak. And because it’s also a dance club it often seems easier for someone doing this for the first time. There’s no nudity there, for instance. But there is the crush of a few hundred people watching. Too intense for some. My friend Shaye works there. He can get me in whenever I ask. Shall I ask?”

  He could see from her expression—brown eyes wide, the edge of her teeth sinking into her lush lower lip—that her answer would be ‘no’. But he had to offer her the option anyway. Even if what he really wanted was to have her alone in his house, just the two of them and a well-made paddle, a pair of leather handcuffs.

  His bed.

  No.

  He shifted in his chair, his cock aching for her.

  She shook her head. “I…I’m not sure that would work for me. It’s all too new. I’ve seen your references, done the background check on you that you asked me to do. I’d planned to give your information to my cousin before we went anywhere. I feel safe enough with you. And…I think I’ll need the sense of privacy, no distractions.”

  He smiled at her. “Then I’ll send you my address. Come Friday night.”

  She paused before nodding her head, her cheeks pinking, looking for a moment as though she were going to argue. But in the end she didn’t question that he’d phrased it as a command. A momentary struggle. Enough that he could see she would fight yielding to him. But he expected that from a woman like her. Strong. Inexperienced. Unaware of the extent of her own desires.

  He had no doubt he could handle her. He’d trained girls like this before, those who had to hang on so tightly to control, for whatever reason, that letting it go was the ultimate relief. He loved nothing more than to break past that wall of reserve.

  The idea of breaking this particular girl, this beautiful woman whose very scent made him want to taste her skin, would be pure pleasure. Hers. His.

  Breaking Skye. He knew he would think of nothing else all week.

  ~ * ~

  THREE

  Skye let herself into her third-floor apartment, her hands still shaking as she pulled off her wool coat. She hadn’t been able to calm down since she’d left the café and her conversation with Adam Dunne.

  Had it really even happened? It all felt dream-like to her now. Too good to be true. Too frightening. But this was exactly what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?

  She’d wanted an experiment. An experience. To experience just once the pleasure-pain principle she’d fantasized about for so long. The idea of submitting—submitting more to the sensation than anything else—even if only in the moment, had been thrilling for as long as she could remember having sexual desires. But she hadn’t expected to find a man—a Dominant—she’d be so unbearably attracted to. That complicated things.

  Adam complicated things.

  He was graceful in the way only an utterly self-confident man could be, which was the sexiest thing about him. Except for his mouth, maybe—lush and begging to be kissed, except she understood this man had never begged for anything in his utterly confident life.

  She groaned and tossed her coat and purse down on the antique sea chest in her front hall, kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot across the hardwood floors of her small living room to the bay window overlooking the city.

  The apartment was on a hill overlooking the Castro district. This was a beautiful neighborhood—well-kept, safe, and one of the few areas in San Francisco to get the occasional bit of sun.

  It was twilight now and the evening fog was rolling in, turning the lights on the streets below her into a glowing wash of color. Wisps of fog threaded its way between the mini-Tudors and remodeled Victorians that lined the streets. Sometimes the San Francisco fog made the city cold and lonely-looking, but she was glad for the sense of solitude it brought now. She had a lot to think about.

  Was she getting in over her head? Her whole body gave a long, lovely shiver as she pictured Adam in her mind. He obviously knew exactly what he was doing. She felt so naïve with him, which wasn’t something she was used to. She’d always thought herself to be somewhat sophisticated when it came to sex, which was why she’d even considered approaching such an extreme sexual arena. Yet he didn’t seem to expect anything more from her than the bare-bones of knowledge about the subject.

  I’ll be responsible for everything…

  Yes, she knew he would be, had an absolute sense of that. How frightening.

  How freeing.

  She had three days to ponder this, to look over the questionnaire he would send her, to make her final decision. He’d assumed she would come to him—and she had agreed to—but she had to really think things over. To think beyond her response to his sharp, male beauty, his natural air of command. That was the responsible way to handle the situation. The smart way.

  Adam.

  Her pulse raced, her limbs going warm and weak as she imagined his large, capable hands on her naked skin. They’d be rough. Demanding. Expert in every way, she was certain.

  Mmm…yes…

  Her body heated as she ran her hands over her thighs, imagined they were his hands, her skin lighting up with exquisite, nearly painful need. That’s what he did to her.

  Oh, hell, who was she kidding? She’d made her decision the moment she’d seen him walk into the café. She wanted this. More specifically, she wanted to do these things with him. In fact, if she were going to be perfectly honest with herself, she could hardly wait to see him again.

  Three more days. It suddenly seemed like far too long to wait.

  ~ * ~

  Wednesday and most of Thursday passed quickly enough. She’d taught a few classes, which kept her distracted during the day. The evenings she’d reserved to go over the long questionnaire Adam had sent her.

  He was right—there were things on there that had never occurred to her, some of them too scary to contemplate, some of them enticing. Some surprisingly so.

  Would she like to play with hot wax? Maybe. She’d always been a little afraid of the burning sensation, but she also imagined there could be a warm sensuality to it. She’d read that it all depended on how hot the wax was allowed to get, and how it was poured onto the skin. That it could be pleasant. Or cruel. Which direction would Adam take it? And what about the ground in between, where pleasure and pain existed side by side? That was what she really wanted to know, to experience.

  She shivered, a sensual frisson skittering across her skin like a warm current. She forced her focus back to the questionnaire.

  Would she like to try caning? She had to pause, leaning back against the pillows she’d plumped up behind her on her pretty white iron bed, her fingers resting on the edge of the laptop balanced on her knees. She just might, if the right man were wielding the cane. If Adam were wielding the cane. She was surprised by her own response. Caning had always seemed so extreme. Amazing how her ideas about her own desires could shift given the right motivation.

  Adam was spectacular motivation.

  Her sex squeezed and she flexed her toes under the edge of the pale, vintage blue and white quilt.

  Amazing what he was doing to her already, mind and body.

  Would she want to be tied up? Most definitely. W
ould she allow any sexual contact?

  Her mind emptied as she read that last question, her body flooding with desire.

  Oh, yes…

  They’d talked about it already, but her body was as worked up now as it had been when he’d been sitting only inches from her.

  Adam.

  She cupped one breast with her hand, rubbing her hardening nipple through the thin cotton of her camisole with her fingertips.

  “Oh…”

  She set the laptop down on the night table, leaned back into the pillows and closed her eyes. And saw Adam in her mind’s eye, standing over her. Commanding her to touch herself. For him.

  She spread her thighs, raised her camisole over her breasts, baring them to the cool evening air. She didn’t mind—her skin was on fire as she slid her hands over the gentle curve of her belly, the undersides of her breasts. Her sex was absolutely aching, but she would tease herself a bit. He’d like that.

  She circled her nipples with her fingertips, feather touches, tracing the edge of her areolas. Her thighs flexed, wanting to squeeze together, to ease the ache between them, but she forced them wider apart.

  “Oh yes, for you,” she murmured.

  She took her nipples between her fingers, gave a small squeeze, sighed with pleasure. Did it again, hard enough to hurt.

  “Ah!”

  Pleasure was an electric current running through her veins. Her clit began a slow, throbbing pulse in response. She squeezed her nipples again, then again, creating a rhythm that kept pace with the pulsing need blooming between her thighs. Harder and harder, and still she needed more. More pleasure. More pain.

  More pain.

  She was soaking wet. Finally she yanked her bikini panties off and with her legs spread, allowed herself to press one finger at the entrance of her pussy. She was slick with need. She bit her lip as she slipped her finger inside, gasped at the sharp, keening pleasure.

  “Oh God, yes,” she murmured.

  She tilted her hips and pressed two more fingers into her pussy, began to pump.