Dark Attraction: The Corde Noire Series (8 page)

“What about love? Did you ever love any of your subs?”

His face was like stone. “Love is something I avoid with a sub. Emotions have a way of making my relationships murky.”

“What about that woman who was with you for two years? Did you love her?”

“The less we talk about my former subs, the better.” He abruptly stood from his stool.

“Why can’t we talk about them?”

“Because I said so.” He went to her sofa. “I have some homework for you. I want you to think about your pain and pleasure thresholds. How much you can take of each.”

She followed him into the living room. “Is there such a thing as a pleasure threshold?”

“Sometimes, when a sub experiences too much pleasure it can become painful. I want you to think about how far you are willing to let me go. How much pain and pleasure you’re willing to let me give you.” He retrieved his jacket and flung it over his arm. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow night after our exercise.”

“You’re leaving?”

He checked his watch. “I have work to catch up on.”

“I have one more question.”

He waited by the sofa, his eyes intensely observing her every movement. “I’m listening.”

She came right up to him, standing below his chin. Without her shoes, she felt so small next to him. “When you kissed me tonight, did you mean it?”

“Did I mean it?” He tilted toward her, getting close to her face. “I always mean it when I kiss a woman.”

“Why didn’t it feel that way?”

He stood back from her. “Stop analyzing every little thing between us, Sam. You won’t enjoy yourself that way.”

Turning away, she went to her front door. “Sure you won’t give me a hint about what you have planned for tomorrow night?”

He strutted up to her. “Good night, Sam. Sleep well.”

For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he simply reached for the doorknob and strolled past, shutting her door. After her lock clicked, his shadow disappeared from under her doorway.

Facing her empty apartment, Sam wished he had stayed. Even if he never said a word to her, his presence was comforting. A lot more comforting than she had ever imagined possible.

Sam usually spent her days off sleeping in and running errands, but on this day all her well-planned activities were pushed to the wayside as she prepared for Doug’s visit. Rising early, she cleaned her entire apartment and then scoured the Internet for recipes. Sam knew she was no cook, and short of a few disastrous dinners for Phil, she had little experience in the kitchen. But she hoped that if she followed an easy recipe, Sam could prepare something that would please Doug.

Please Doug?
“I already sound like a sub.”  

After making a quick grocery list, Sam grabbed her purse and keys, ready to hit the store down the street. Walking into the hallway, she glanced over at Doug’s apartment door. Contemplating the fate that had brought them together, Sam pondered why him and why now? There had been other men who had wanted her, but she had turned them down, fearing where the encounter would eventually lead … sex. However, with Doug she didn’t have that same anxiety. She was drawn to him and spent more time thinking about what they would be like together than dreading it.

Reaching the elevator, Sam hit the call light. It seemed odd that of all the men she had encountered, the one she desired was into such a different lifestyle.

When the elevator doors opened, she sensed something was off. There was a presence, and then the aroma of a man’s enticing cologne encircled her.  When the silver doors closed, a pair of cunning brown eyes materialized before her.

“Hello, Sam.” The translucent ghost of a man dressed in a tailored gray suit and cream-colored tie materialized before her. “Have you missed me?”

“Nathan?” she whispered. “Nathan Cole?”
     His figure became solid, and it was as if the man himself were sharing the elevator with her.

Creeping her out—just like he had when he was alive—he studied the curves beneath her casual white T-shirt and blue jeans. Sam had heard about Nathan Cole’s reputation with women, and despite his chiseled, square face, toned body, and smooth charm, she had steered clear of her landlord. But despite his mysterious demise, it seemed the former owner of The Shallows was still hitting on her.  

“So it’s been you all along.”

“I’ve been trying to contact you, my dear girl.”

She backed into the corner of the elevator. “What are you doing here, Nathan?”

He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. “I’m just keeping an eye on my building, Sam.”
     The elevator car shifted and then started its descent. “Why haven’t you moved on, like the others?”

Nathan chuckled, sounding more sinister than amused. “I have unfinished business. Business you can help me with.”

“I can’t help you, Nathan. You’re dead. Everyone in the city knows it.”

“But where is my body, Sam? Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She stared at the grinning apparition. “What are you after, Nathan?”

His brown eyes analyzed her for several seconds. He was mulling something over … that was obvious.

“I could tell you many things. Things about your new neighbor.” He inched closer. “I can sense your attraction.”  

“Do you know something about Doug?”

He nodded. “I do. Care to find out what?”

The elevator slowed to a stop. “I’m not interested in games, Nathan. You damn ghosts always like to play games with the living.”

Nathan Cole floated to the side just as the doors opened. “A shame we never had this little chat when I was alive, Sam. I could have used someone with your ability.”

She glared at him as she exited the elevator. “Leave me alone. I can’t help you.”

“I think you can. And you will,” he uttered right before he vanished.

Rushing to the leaded-glass doors that led to Julia Street, Sam cursed her ability. What would Doug think if she told him she talked to the dead?

“He’d think I was fucking nuts.”

*     *     *

It was after four when a knock took Sam away from the marinated chicken she had brought home from the grocery store. Having ditched her recipe idea, she had purchased every premade item in the grocery’s delicatessen, determined to pass it off as homemade.

After opening the door, she found Doug decked out in a crisply pressed gray pinstripe suit and black silk tie.

“You look like you’re just going out, not coming in.”

“We’re going out. I’m taking you to dinner. After we’ve finished our lesson, of course.”

He strutted in the door as she gaped at him. “But I was going to cook. I went to the grocery and bought a shitload of food.”

He stopped mid-stride in the hallway. “First rule of being my sub, no cursing. I don’t approve of women using foul language.”

She slammed the door. “Do you get to curse?”

He unbuttoned his jacket. “When the need arises, yes.”

She walked up to him. “That’s chauvinistic.”

“Being a Dom isn’t about equal opportunity. It’s about being the one in charge.”

“What other rules do you have?”

“You like to push people, don’t you, Sam?”

“When people push me, I push back.”

He slid his jacket from around his shoulders. “I’m not your father, so please don’t treat me with the same hostility.”
     The comment took her by surprise. “I’ve never treated you like—”

“My guess is when your father set rules, you always set out to break them,” he cut in. “Please don’t do that with me. It will make both of our lives extremely difficult.” He tilted closer to her. “And whenever you address me from now on, it’s to be Sir. You can only call me by my name when invited to do so.”

“I don’t think I like the sound of that … Sir.”

With a smirk on his lips, he went to her sofa and put down his jacket. Clapping his hands together, he inspected her apartment. “You cleaned.”

She walked up to the sofa, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Yeah. So?”

“You cleaned for me, admit it. Just like you planned on cooking for me.” He came up to her, placing his hands on her hips. “That’s good. I like my subs to cook, clean, and get my dry cleaning.”

The nearness of him made her insides shrivel up. “That sounds more like a maid than a sub to me.”

“I already have a maid.” His arms went around her.

“You do?” She leaned back from his embrace. “Since when? I’ve never seen a maid coming or going from your place.”

For a moment, Sam swore she saw a hint of worry in his eyes, and then it was gone. “My maid comes during the day, when you’re at work.”

She relaxed in his arms. “Can’t wait to pick her brains.”

“That’s never going to happen. Any questions about my lifestyle, you come to me. Understood?” He let her go and returned to the sofa.

“Yes, boss.”

He glanced back at her. “Sir, not boss.”

“Technically, there’s no difference.”

He retrieved something from the pocket of his jacket. “Technically, there is. I’m not paying you.” When he came back to her, Doug was holding a small clear bottle in his hand.

“What’s that?”  

“Almond oil.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I want to see how comfortable you are with being nude.”

Sam’s face dropped. “Excuse me?”

“How much time do you spend naked?”

“Other than in the shower?”

He chuckled. “Yes, other than in the shower.”

“I don’t know. Short of getting dressed and undressed, that’s about it.”

“That’s what I suspected.” He motioned down her white blouse and jeans. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered in a snappy tone.

She held up her hands. “What a minute. I never—”

“Sam,” he injected. “Do you want to be mine?”

She explored his cool eyes, trying to come up with an answer. Unfortunately, the only reply she had was the funny sensation rising from her belly. Even though her mind was vehemently urging her to protest, she kept her mouth shut and simply nodded her head.

“Then take off your clothes.”

Treating undressing for Doug as something akin to a trip to the gynecologist, Sam closed her eyes and reached for the fly of her jeans. As she was working the zipper down, she felt his breath on her cheek.

“Not like that.”

When she opened her eyes, his lips were inches from her face, making that funny feeling spread from her belly to her groin.

“Take off your clothes like I’m a lover you want to entice into bed.”

How in the hell do I do that?

Panic-stricken, her mind raced with seduction scenarios. Taking a gulp of air, she remembered she was an avid member of Netflix, and had even watched a porno movie or two. It couldn’t be that hard. They did it all the time in the movies.

Just think Flashdance, Striptease.

When he stepped back, Doug went to the sofa and sat down. Spreading his arms out behind him, he nodded to her. “Anytime you’re ready.”

Biting back her snarky reply, Sam began to slowly unbutton her blouse, attempting to be sexy. But Sam had no experience with sexy. So far, undressing for Doug felt like a Martian landing on Earth for the first time and encountering a cactus.

As her top floated to the floor, the cool air made her shiver. Her hands rubbed up and down her arms, and when she saw Doug frowning, she stopped. Not yet ready to remove her bra, she slipped her hands to her jeans.

His eyes steadily glaring at her, Doug never moved a muscle. Sam didn’t know if he was getting turned off or on by the show. She could hazard a guess that it was neither. Who would think she was sexy?

After lowering the zipper on her jeans—nice and slow, just like in the movies—Sam was having a hard time getting the snug skinny jeans down her hips. She was damn near tugging at the thick material, grunting with effort. She bent over, trying to force the jeans further down her hips and along her thighs. When she had worked the material to her knees, Sam swore she heard Doug snickering. When she raised her head to peek at him, she got caught off balance and toppled to the floor.

Bracing her fall with her right arm, she had not even hit the ground when Doug was on her. Lifting her in his arms, he was laughing. “You are the most accident prone little thing I’ve ever met.”

She blushed, shaking her head. “Just don’t ask me to juggle. You could lose an eye.”   

That made him laugh even louder. Resting her head against his chest, she decided she liked his laugh. It was warm, jovial, and very unlike the man he often portrayed.

Laying her on the sofa, his hands went to the waistband of her jeans, easily pulling them off her legs.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman quite like you.” He dropped her jeans to the floor and had a seat on the edge of the sofa.

Resting her hands over her simple beige panties, Sam was horribly uncomfortable. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

He took her hands and pulled her into a sitting position. “It’s a good thing.” His hands went to the clasp on her bra. “You keep surprising me.” He undid the bra and was working it down her arms. “I like that in a woman.”

Sam wasn’t listening to a word he said; she was too undone by the way he was undressing her. When he tossed her bra away, she instinctively covered her breasts.

His eyes came together with disapproval. Gently lowering her hands, he watched her face. “None of that. Not with me. I want to see you. I want to get to know every inch of you.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Lie back.”

Gulping back her dread, she reclined on the sofa, acutely aware of the plush fabric against her hot skin. When he hooked his fingers around the elastic waistband of her underwear, Sam thought she was going to have a heart attack.

“I told you, trust is the cornerstone of any relationship in my world.” He leaned in closer to her. “Do you trust me?”

“No,” she flatly answered.

His hands started working the underwear over her hips. “Well, at least that was honest.”

Closing her eyes as her humiliation gained ground, the cool air embraced her bottom as he slipped the underwear down her legs. While he worked her panties free from around her feet, Sam was too terrified to open her eyes and see him laughing at her, or worse … staring at her with revulsion.