Only for the Night (If Only Book 2) (27 page)

“Is that why you left LA?” Jane asked.

Sage shifted in her seat, eyes lowered. “One reason.” She gestured toward the edge of the balcony above the parking lot. “I’d rather enjoy my food and my clients than constantly have my stomach in knots.”

Hank reached for her hand, and when she sneaked a glance at him, he leaned in. His kiss was met with gratitude. It wasn’t only her job that had stressed her out. He and V. both knew it, and knowing his friend, Jane did too. Her discretion at not giving that away made him like her even more.

Moans of delight accompanied the chocolate lava cakes Sage served for dessert. When their dishes were practically licked clean, Jane leaned back in her chair and tugged at the waistband of her skirt. “I can see I’ll have to be careful about visiting you, Sage. I gained twenty pounds in one sitting.”

“We’ll just have to work it off, I guess,” V. said. The deepening of his voice told Hank he had specific plans to do just that. As if following Hank’s train of thought, V. turned to him. “I rented that beach house over on Henderson for the weekend.”

“The one with the enormous balcony facing the cliff?”

“That’s the one. Has a great room that’s big enough for tonight. No offense, bro,” he said with a smirk over his shoulder at Hank’s apartment. “There’s just not enough room in your old barn, and you definitely don’t want to do this outside.”

No, he didn’t want to risk interruptions. And some part of him didn’t want anyone to know, either. The stigma of what he and Sage planned to do still stained him deep down inside, where she couldn’t see it. He just hoped that, like controlling her, he would get used to this aspect of D/s as well.

Jane stood. “How about I help with the dishes?”

V. grinned. “How about we all help? The faster we’re finished, the faster I can have you.”

Hank caught a glance of Sage out of the corner of his eye, trying to hide a grin as she stacked dishes. And then she peeked up at him, her gaze dark and hungry and beautiful, and he couldn’t get into the kitchen fast enough.

They stepped into the great room just after sundown. The wide expanse of windows facing the Pacific Ocean were curtainless, giving the sense that the room was even bigger than it already was. Sage went straight to the French doors that led to the deck, but she didn’t go outside, just stared at the water for a moment. Was she nervous? He sure as hell was, and if someone was going to slap his naked skin with a bunch of leather straps, no matter how soft, he’d be damn scared. Sage was braver than he was.

The realization shamed him.

Ignoring V. and Jane, he walked over until he stood behind Sage. She didn’t wait for him to touch her, just leaned back like she knew he’d always catch her, no matter what. Her shoulders, then her head settled against his chest as his arms came around her. She tilted to one side, baring her shoulder, and he knew what she needed. Her throat was warm against his lips, her pulse a steady thump accompanying his kiss.

“Are you sure?” he couldn’t help whispering. He knew the answer, but he needed the reassurance all the same. Her heartbeat was steady; he felt like his would pound out of his ribs any moment now.

Sage turned her head until she could meet his eyes. “I have never been more certain of anything, or anyone, in my life.”

Good God, he loved this woman. He’d known, somewhere deep inside, that the feeling was there, but that look in her eyes… He loved her, and with sudden fierceness he knew he could do this for her. He, and only he, would give her what she needed. Right now.

Well, not right now. He had to kiss her first. When they were both breathless and his jeans were too tight for anything resembling comfort, he stepped back. Sage turned to face him. “What is your safe word, sub?” he asked. The signal they’d agreed on, the indication that they were stepping into roles meant to be taken seriously. He wasn’t just trapping her wrists in his grip tonight. He had to know she was ready.

“Hellhound, Sir.”

He heard a chuckle behind him. Yeah, V. would get that little bit of humor. Hank brought his hand to the back of Sage’s neck and gripped tight, surprised when it didn’t even occur to him to worry about hurting her. “Ready?”

Sage melted into his touch. “So ready.”

V. hadn’t traveled with major equipment, though he’d educated Hank on things like a St. Andrew’s cross and spanking benches. Since Hank had neither the equipment nor the space to put it, improvising was a better teaching tool. As he and Sage approached the middle of the room, he could see V. laying out a few things from what he called his play bag on the wide, plush love seat. The coffee table had been moved against one wall, leaving the middle of the room empty, and in the center Jane knelt. She’d removed her shirt and skirt, and now only a lace corset and thong covered her curvy body. Her head was down, knees wide apart, palms up on her thighs. She looked graceful, peaceful, just waiting for V. to be ready. Looking at another woman that way felt surreal after sleeping with Sage, but there wasn’t more than an abstract interest in Jane in his brain. She was more a beautiful object lesson than a sexual being.

When Hank looked to Sage, the surge of hunger in his gut seconded the thought.

“Dress off,” he told her, voice low. They’d agreed on how much skin to show beforehand. Sage was fine with nudity—she’d been used to it after visiting Heathers. Hank, not so much. Panties and bra stayed on unless he changed his mind later.

“Kneel.” He felt self-conscious, as if the other couple would judge how well he controlled Sage. He tried to ignore the feeling and focus on Sage—his sub—and on learning. The sight of Sage and Jane together, mirroring each other, helped. He emptied his bag of flogger, a vibrator he and Sage had gotten intimately familiar with, condoms, and lube. A water bottle near the couch to rehydrate his sub afterward. By the time he was ready, V. was standing in front of the two women, his wide-legged stance and crossed arms screaming authority. Hank joined him, his hands shoved into his back pockets to hide their shaking.

V. didn’t take his eyes off Jane. “Look at your sub, Hank.”

Hank did. Sage’s head was lowered just like Jane’s, her creamy skin gleaming in the soft light of the room. Breathing even. Nipples pebbled slightly beneath the thin fabric of her bra. He searched for signs of anxiety and saw none. Good.

At least one of them was doing okay. He felt like a junkie on adrenaline overload, nightmarish thoughts of Tara flashing in his mind while the performance anxiety he felt before going onstage surged in his gut. Hopefully, as with a concert, it would ease after the scene began.

“You’ve discussed limits for this?” V. asked.

“We have.”

“Sage?”

Without raising her head, she said, voice husky, “We have, Sir.”

Oddly enough, V.’s questions eased the nerves. He leaned down to speak quietly to Jane, giving Hank space to breathe. When he felt more in control, Hank knelt beside Sage, his height still allowing him to tower over her petite body, and drove his fingers into her long hair. His tight grip lifted her head, and as her eyes met his, they dilated. Good.

V. was directing Jane to walk behind the love seat. Hank released Sage, making sure his pleasure at her response was clear. “Stand, baby.”

He led her behind the couch, the wider expanse giving him more room than necessary—a good thing for a novice. He’d been practicing with the flogger and a firm pillow, getting the feel for the swing, the impact. The familiarity of the handle in his grip when he balanced it on the back of the couch between Sage’s planted hands helped his nerves. Her breath sucked in at the sight of the tool. When he laid a hand on her head, adjusting the angle so she stared down, seeing nothing but the flogger, the reminder of what would happen between them tonight, he felt a tremble of excitement go through her. He held on to that knowledge like a lifeline as he rounded the couch.

V. had Jane in position. Leaving his sub, he walked over to Hank, though Hank noticed he glanced frequently toward Jane. “You want her far enough back that you have a good surface to strike. Avoid the kidneys, even with a soft flogger. Watch the wraparound; tails snapping around to the front can have a nasty sting.”

Hank kept his voice low, deep, commanding.
Thank you, rookie trainees.
“Legs back, Sage.”

Without a word, Sage shifted her feet backward until her spine was at a slight angle, her ass pushed out, thighs straight and sexy. He nudged the inside of one foot. “Out.”

She complied, her hands fisting in the soft suede of the couch. Judging by the way her breath was speeding up, he knew it was pleasure, not fear she was showing.

V. hesitated. “She can keep the thong, but the hooks on her bra might hurt if you get that high.”

Hank nodded. He’d considered that. V. returned to Jane, and Hank ran a finger up the slight valley of Sage’s spine. Lingering near her bra, he waited, drawing the moment out, letting her anticipate what came next. Over the strap, up to her nape. He gathered her hair and settled it to one side of her neck before he leaned in and gave her nape a bite. Sage groaned, her arms shaking as she held herself up.

“Don’t move,” he reminded her. He traced her spine several more times before flicking her bra open on the last pass. Sage gasped as cool air hit her breasts.

God, she looked good. The bra had caught midbiceps, just far enough down to tease her nipples as her body swayed, yet still give him access. He left it there.

“Let’s warm them up,” V. said.

Hank nodded. This time he pushed his whole palm against Sage’s back, beginning a massage that he gradually deepened. He rubbed and squeezed the muscles along her spine, her shoulders, her hips, her ass. He could hear other noises in the room, V.’s voice a low, indistinguishable croon, but all his focus was on Sage’s body and her responses. She moaned and arched as her skin turned pink beneath his hands, began to radiate heat. He reached around to cup her breasts, roll her nipples until they went rock hard, ran kisses and bites down her back and wished it was her taut tips in his mouth instead. Her sweet sugar scent grounded him in the moment as he went back to her ass, allowing his arousal to rise above his fears. His cock throbbed hard behind his zipper, making him wish he could release his fly, but he didn’t. This was for Sage, not him.

The sharp sound of a slap split the air. Hank jumped. His gaze shot to V. just as another slap landed on Jane’s bare ass.

Hank squeezed Sage’s hips, unconsciously moving her body back to him. V. spanked Jane again.

Look at her face, Hank. Look at her reaction.

The way they were positioned, at right angles to each other, Jane’s face was visible to him—probably on purpose—as V. spanked her. With each impact, her eyelids squeezed shut, a brief flash of pain crossing her face before she relaxed and a deep, throaty groan escaped. She didn’t sound unhappy. She looked… She looked excited, actually. She seemed to lift on her toes as if needing to get closer to the hand striking her skin, needing more. And despite the sharp sound, Hank could see that V. wasn’t hitting his sub very hard. Not a full draw back of his arm and harsh swing, but a controlled, deliberate application that Jane liked.

Sage would like it too; Hank knew that. Could he give her that?

After a brief internal struggle, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and proceeded with the massage. When Sage was warm putty beneath his hands, he stepped to one side.

Her breath hitched.

Oh yes, this was what she wanted.

Come on, Hank, haven’t you ever had a fantasy of throwing a woman over your lap and spanking her ass? Ever seen
The Quiet Man
and thought about what that would be like?

Of course he had.

His first smack was tentative, light, one he might deliver if he was playing around. Sage didn’t react. He cupped her butt cheek, rubbed it, drew back again…and popped her on the opposite cheek.

Sage moaned.

He drew back again.

That pop was slightly harder. Sage moaned again, her back arching ever so slightly. She wanted more.

Steeling himself, he set up a rhythm. He tested out intensities, allowing more and more force as he and Sage both got used to the movement. He moved down her upper thighs. Up above her ass for light taps to warm the muscles even more than his massage had. He avoided the area of her kidneys and eased higher, then back down. Increased intensity as he returned to those round, beautiful globes. By then Sage was rocking back into him, begging for more with her body and her wordless cries and whimpers and soft grunts that sounded just like the ones she made when he shoved his cock as far in as it could go—

Shit.

His erection felt like it would explode at any moment. It really wasn’t that different than “vanilla” sex, observing what made Sage feel good, what excited her, then driving her along that road until she couldn’t stand any more and she reached the pinnacle. She wasn’t screaming in pain or yelling in anger; she was dripping wet and ready for his cock. He wasn’t sure anymore exactly what he’d been afraid of.

A pause in V.’s rhythm got Hank’s attention. His friend didn’t speak, didn’t break the moment, but he did pick up a flogger much like the one he’d given Hank and nodded toward the couch. Hank trailed his hot palm along Sage’s body before retrieving the tool, not wanting to lose contact.