Dark Attraction: The Corde Noire Series (19 page)

“Tall, long legs, blonde, 36 C or D cups, and always a size four. He always wants the best for his ladies.”

“‘Ladies’?” Sam stifled her snort. “Not girlfriends?”

“I don’t ask questions. I just outfit their underclothes. I have several like your Mr. Dane. Every time they come in, it’s with a new woman. When you’ve worked at this store as long as I have, you see a lot of unusual relationships.”

*     *     *

Every store Sebastian entered, he was well known to the salesclerks. At Evelyn’s—a unique boutique that catered to women’s high-end fashions—he selected two pantsuits, two dresses, some casual slacks, and blouses for Sam. He also insisted on a formal sea foam blue gown for her. Tapered at the waist with a wide skirt and small crystals sewn into the bodice, it was the most amazing piece of clothing Sam had ever worn. She never questioned his purchases. When he insisted on makeup for her at Saks Fifth Avenue, or bought a set of leather purses, she kept quiet. However, when it came to his footwear choices, Sam finally spoke up.

“I’m not wearing that,” she emphatically stated as the clerk in Delilah’s shoe store held up a three-inch, black pump.

“Sam,” Sebastian grumbled under his breath. “What did I tell you?”

“Do you plan on adding legal expenses to the ridiculous amount of money you’re spending on me? Put me in those shoes, and I will maim or injure old ladies and small dogs.”

He covered his mouth and laughed. “I forgot about your propensity for disaster.” He eyed the shoe. “Perhaps something in a lower heel, Mary Beth,” he said to the curly-haired clerk. “Let’s go with one-inch for the pumps, in blue, black, cream, and throw in one pair of black stilettoes with a rhinestone heel. Make the rest everyday flat shoes, in natural, black, brown, and beige.”

“Yes, Mr. Dane.”

“Stilettos? Are you mad?” Sam questioned after the clerk had scurried away.

“For practice.”

Sam eased back on the bench next to him. “Do you read a lot of women’s fashion magazines or something? How do you know so much about women’s clothing?”

He turned to her, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I pay attention. When I see a woman wearing something I like, I ask her about it. I dress my subs in the styles I prefer, the colors that please me, and fabrics I find the most flattering. I told you this is for my pleasure.”

“But you don’t have to wear the shit, Sebastian.”

“It’s Sir, and don’t curse. If I have to warn you again, I will take you over my knee and spank you, hard.”

“Do you ever get tired of doing this?”

“No. I’m a Dom. Making sure everything is done my way is the reason I go to such lengths with you and others like you.”

She met his irksome gaze with her own. “Doesn’t that get old? Finding subs, dressing them, and training them? Do you ever want to sit at home one night, chug a beer, and watch football like a normal guy?”

“You just moved in with me, Sam. How do you know I don’t do that?”

Her eyes swept over his face, trying to read him, but he was always so guarded, as if his every thought were a state secret. “You don’t let people see the real you. I think I’ve pretty much figured that out. Is it because you don’t like who you are on the inside? Or is it if you spend too long looking inward, you’ll scare yourself to death?”

His eyes became two wintry slits. “Careful, Sam, don’t push me.”

“Is that a threat … Sir?”

He never replied. Sitting quietly until Mary Beth returned, Sam could not help but gloat as his nostrils flared. So he did have vulnerabilities like everyone else. From now on, Sam wouldn’t feel so helpless with him. She had found a way to fight back.

It was late in the evening when they exited the private elevator leading to Sebastian’s penthouse. Weighed down with shopping bags, Sam hurried in behind him after he opened the front door. Following his lead, she piled her shopping bags on the living room sofas.

“You can spend tomorrow putting everything away,” he said, laying out the long dress bag with her gown.

Sam raised her nose in the air as she detected the smell of something wonderful. Glancing toward the dining room, she discovered the table was set with his shiny white china, an arrangement of chafing dishes, and a silver ice bucket topped with an open bottle of champagne.  

“I wanted our first dinner together to be special. I had Delmonico’s on St. Charles cater the meal. I hope you like duck.” Sebastian removed the purse from her shoulder. “I have one last present to give you.” He took her hand.

“But you’ve already spent a fortune on me.” She motioned to the pile of shopping bags.

“It’s all part of your transition.”

At the dining table, he pulled out one of the thick white chairs. Taking her seat, Sam’s stomach rumbled. The food smelled divine. On her plate, there was a light blue box with a white bow on top.

“What’s this?”

He took the chair at the head of the table—naturally—and lifted the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. “Your present … but first we must toast to the start of your training.” He poured the champagne into her crystal flute. “Today is the start of your four weeks of training with me.  When four weeks are up, you will officially be my sub.”

“I thought I was already your sub.”

He filled his flute with the golden bubbly. “The first four weeks with me are for training purposes, to see if you’re ready to take up a permanent position as my sub.”

She picked up her champagne. “What if I wanted to make this permanent now?”

He returned the bottle to the silver ice bucket with a thud. “Until you’re thoroughly aware of what it takes to be my sub, you can’t make that decision.”

She shrugged, holding up her glass to him. “I told you, I trust you. What else do I need to know?”

Snickering, he lifted his glass. “I want you to be sure. Very sure.” He tipped his glass to hers. “To us.”

She took a deep sip of champagne. “I’m already sure.”

“Let’s see if you still feel that way after a month with me.” He took a drink of champagne and then pointed to the box on her plate. “Open it.”

Giddy, Sam tore off the bow and opened the box. Inside was a simple black silk rope collar with a gold clasp. She held it up to him. “Am I getting a dog?”

Standing from his chair, he took the collar from her hand. “This is your training collar. You are to wear it at all times. Only I can take it off you.”  

“You mean I have to sleep with it?”

He went behind her, moved her hair out of the way, and fastened the collar around her neck. “You’ll get used to it.”

She didn’t like the way it felt. “I would have preferred the dog.”

“Pets are unpredictable.”

Her hand went to the collar. “Did you do this with your other subs?”

He returned to his chair. “Every Dom puts some form of collar or jewelry on their sub to show ownership.”  

Drinking from her flute, Sam made a mental note to tell Piper she had glossed over that little tidbit of information. “So when my training is up, can I take the collar off?”

“When your four weeks are up, you will get a different collar … if you decide to stay.”

She put her glass down and ran her finger along the rim. “You ever think about one day not being a Dom?”

Sebastian lifted the lid on one of the chaffing dishes closest to him. “No, why would I?”

“What about having a family? If you think a pet is unpredictable, I can’t imagine what you would think of a baby.”

He spooned a peppery combination of vegetables in a dark brown sauce on to her plate. “I like my life as it is, Sam. I don’t want the complications of children or a wife.”

“What about your business? Who will you leave it to?”

Sebastian scowled. “Having someone to pass on a business to is a sorry excuse for having a child, trust me. From the earliest age, I was taught my duty in life was to take over the reins of Dane Shipping from my old man.”

She ignored the spicy concoction on her plate, and then she detected a subtle change in the air. Someone was there, trying to get through. The older man was back. Raising her head, she caught a glimpse of mist behind Sebastian’s chair. There was a lingering sense of guilt in the mist, a deep-seated regret.

“You and your father weren’t close. He’s sorry he never reached out to you.”

Sebastian froze, his serving spoon still in the dish of vegetables. “How do you know that?”

She relished the perplexed look in his eyes. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

He slammed his spoon on his plate, sending up a loud clatter in the room. “Don’t say sucks.”
     She picked up her fork. “Sorry. I just meant I know how hard it is having a parent not give a … darn about you. I always came after my father’s congregation. He missed all my high school volleyball games because of his church.” She played with the spicy vegetable mix. “The only event he ever attended was my high school graduation.”

“You were on a team?”

She forked a small piece of broccoli. “I made varsity in my sophomore year.”

“You? But you’re always so … dangerous to be around.”

She took a bite of the broccoli. “I was always a klutz in school. But on the volleyball court, I was … coordinated.” She munched on her broccoli, watching him. “Did you play any sports in high school?”

“Football. Running back.”

“Wow, a jock. I always wanted to date a guy on the football team.”

He lifted the lid on another chaffing dish. “Why didn’t you?”

“My father didn’t let us associate with boys in high school. But it didn’t matter. None of the boys I went to school with paid much attention to me.”

He put a serving of the duck smothered in red peppers on her plate. “Well, I would have asked you out in high school.”

“I doubt that. I’m sure you only dated cheerleaders.”

“Actually, my girlfriend in high school was the editor of the school newspaper.”

“Ah, you liked the brainy type.” Sam speared a piece of duck with her fork.

“I liked her brain,” he returned, pushing some of the duck on his plate. “Sylvia was smart, funny, and a good friend.”

“What happened to her?” She took a bite of the duck. 

“I have no idea.” He sat back in his chair and the lighthearted gleam in his eyes faded. “I never stayed in touch with anyone from my past. It saves me having to explain about my life.”

The comment, and the spiciness of the duck, took her by surprise. “What about your father? How would you explain your lifestyle to him?” She stretched for her champagne.

“I don’t have to explain why I do what I do to anyone.”        

“What about telling me? I would like to know why.”

He pointed his fork at her plate. “Eat your dinner.”

She put her champagne down and went to select another piece of duck when the collar tugged on her neck. This wasn’t what she had envisioned when she agreed to be his. This submissive thing was turning out to be a real pain in the ass.

*     *     *

In the kitchen, they put away the dishes together, stored the leftovers in his fridge—on the shelf he had set aside for prepared food—and he showed her how to work his expensive German coffeemaker.

“In the mornings, you’re to prepare my coffee and have breakfast waiting for me when I come downstairs.”

“Breakfast?” She grimaced. “Well, I hope you have Pop-Tarts and Toaster Strudel around, because unless I can put it in the toaster, there isn’t a lot I know how to cook.”

“You can’t cook? What about that marinated chicken and potatoes you had in your fridge the other night?”

“Pre-made, from the grocery store.” She snorted, walking to the kitchen doorway. “I can boil water and I’m a whiz with a microwave, but sautéing and frying … I’ll probably burn your penthouse down.”

He shook his head, trying like hell not to laugh. “I should have guessed. Fine, I’ll teach you how to cook. In the evening, we’ll spend some time in the kitchen together.” He slid his arm around her waist. “Your mother never bothered to teach you how to cook?”

“She wasn’t around much when Bev and I were growing up.”

He stopped and faced her. “There are worse things a parent can be than invisible.”

“Like what?”

A crash from the kitchen startled them. Jogging back into the kitchen, they found a single dish from one of the cabinets sitting on white granite countertop. 

“That’s odd.” Sebastian inspected the plate. “Must have fallen out of the cabinet somehow.”

Sam didn’t enlighten Sebastian about her suspicions. She knew what it meant. Someone was trying to be heard. 

*     *     *

While the living room lights went out, Sam dutifully followed Sebastian up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Take off your clothes.”     

While he slipped into his master bathroom, the tingling of excitement returned to Sam’s stomach. She was removing her blouse when he came back into the room, holding a small bottle in his hand. He placed the bottle on the bedside table and began undoing his shirt.

“I want to try something with you.”

She took her blouse to a fancy wooden bench outside the bathroom doorway. “You can do whatever you want to me. I told you … I trust you.”

He finished with the buttons and unzipped his trousers. “I would be remiss in my duties as your Dom if I did anything to you that you did not wholeheartedly consent to.” Sebastian shoved his pants and briefs to his ankles.        

Sam pushed her jeans over her hips. “I’m willing to try whatever you want.”

Stepping out of her underwear and jeans, she put them aside on the bench. He was shrugging off his shirt, coming up to her with a pensive frown. “Do you know how tempting those words are to me? You’re lucky I’m such a patient man.”

She was too distracted by his shredded shoulder muscles, carved abs, and his generously sized—

“Are you listening to me, Sam?”

She glanced up at him. “You’re a patient man, yes, I know.”

His arms went around her, snapping her bra free. “You’re exasperating. Do you know that?”

The kiss he gave her was delightfully intense, like the first time he had kissed her. Bursting with all the promise of the heated exchange to come, his kiss captivated her. She opened her mouth, wanting more, and when he held her close, the tingle in her stomach exploded into a ball of fire.

Lifting her into his arms, Sebastian carried her to the bed. Dropping her on his thick comforter, he arched over her naked body, planting his hands on either side of her shoulders.

“This is your first night under my roof.” His eyes peered down at her. “I want it to be special.”

She traced her fingers over his chest. “It already is.”       

“Roll over, baby.”

While she did as she was told, Sebastian reached for the small brown bottle on the bedside table. With her head resting on her hands, Sam waited to see what he had planned.

His oiled hands rubbed along her back, pressing his thumbs into her as he went. Sebastian concentrated his efforts along the thick muscles on either side of her spine until he reached the base of her neck. Working in circles, he kneaded the area around her black collar.      

Sam sighed when he began massaging her shoulders. His hands were heavenly: the perfect combination of strength and gentleness.   

He took his time with her, as if memorizing the details of her body. His hands deeply kneaded her butt, pressed into her strong thighs, and gingerly rolled her calf muscles from side to side, relieving all of her tension. When he pried her legs wide apart, she moaned, eager for what was coming next.

Working the oil into her still tender folds, Sebastian was tenacious, probing every inch of her. Sam’s heart raced, waiting for more, but when his hands moved away, she was disappointed. Until he slipped his finger into her butt.