RecipeforSubmission (14 page)

“I can dress myself,” said Drew, but he didn’t move to stop
her.

“Of course you can. But what’s the point in having a slave
if she doesn’t take care of you?”

The fact that he didn’t correct her made her even more
worried.

Chapter Nine

Drew’s head ached and he felt vaguely like throwing up. But
it seemed worth peeking at the world so he blinked. The first thing he saw was
Kyra’s concerned face. What was she doing here? Not that he knew where here
was. He stared. “Kyra.”

She smiled. “You’re awake. That’s a good sign.”

“Head must have been hurt worse than I thought.” He looked
around. Three puke-green walls with an ugly floral print curtain for a fourth
plus medical equipment told him all he needed to know. He was in a hospital. He
vaguely remembered an ambulance ride, but he couldn’t remember actually getting
to the place. It was sweet of Kyra to come with him. She was standing next to
the bed. The upper half of the bed was tilted up partway. “You don’t need to
stay. Really.”

“I know that, silly. I want to.”

A doctor came in, wearing green scrubs the same color as the
walls. “Good, you’re awake. Stay down.” That was it for his bedside manner,
apparently. He checked Drew’s pulse by hand and nodded with some satisfaction.
“We’ll keep you another hour or two, if you can stay awake. More if you don’t.
How’re you feeling?”

“Sore.”

“Nerves are working. You’ve got a concussion. What we call
‘moderate’, which is still nothing to sneeze at. Or to sneeze with—it’ll hurt.
What do you do for a living?”

“He owns a restaurant.” Kyra said with pride in her voice
before he even opened his mouth. He wasn’t used to hearing quite that tone from
a woman, and he had to admit it sounded good.

“Well, don’t do your own bouncing for a couple weeks. Play
any sports?”

At least Kyra let him answer that one. “Ultimate. Once a
week.”

“What the hell is ultimate?” asked the doctor.

“Um, Frisbee football. It’s more low contact than it sounds.
No tackling or blocking or anything like that.”

“Don’t do that for a couple weeks either. I’ll be back in an
hour or so. You.” The doc looked at Kyra. “If he falls asleep, come get a
nurse. We’ll keep him under observation overnight, at least, if that happens.”

Great. He could tell the doctor right now that he was going
to stay awake. If there was one thing worse than being kicked in the head, it
was staying in a hospital. The smell of antiseptic, the faint undercurrent of
whatever the antiseptic smell was covering up, the food.
My god, if I have
to say overnight they’ll probably make me eat the food.

“I can’t stay here,” he said. It was wasted on the doctor,
who had pulled aside the curtain and was on his way. He tried to sit up.

Kyra laughed and pushed on his chest until he was back lying
on the bed. “Have another date, big boy?” The smile faded right after she said
it, as if it had started a joke but hadn’t ended up that way. It wasn’t a look
he wanted to see on her face.

“Yeah, I’m making you breakfast.”

That put the smile back where it belonged. His mission
accomplished, he thought maybe he’d close his eyes for a few moments, lie back
and relax.

“Oh no, you don’t.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“Oh yeah.” He smiled wanly. “Gotta stay awake.”

“Obviously, you need something to make it worth keeping your
eyes open.” Kyra met his gaze as she undid two buttons on her blouse. That left
her neckline low enough he could see the lace on her bra, and when she leaned
over all the blood rushed to his cock. “Is there anything else my lord
requires?”

“You have me elevated to the nobility do you?” He kept
looking at her beautiful round breasts, so generously displayed. Yeah, he
wasn’t going to have any trouble keeping his eyes open.

“Well, some people call it cleavage, but giving what you’re
doing, I think peerage is another good name for it.”

It took him a moment, and then he reached behind himself and
threw the pillow at her.

She batted it aside, laughing. “Hey! You’re supposed to be
resting! Cut that out.” She picked up the pillow, leaning forward delightfully
in the process, and then almost smothered him with her breasts as she pulled
his head up and tucked the pillow in behind him.

But what a way to go.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Hard. Horny.” He decided to leave out woozy.

She smirked. “If you want me to do anything about it all you
have to do is say the word.”

“We don’t exactly have privacy here,” Drew pointed out. The
doctor hadn’t knocked when he came in, and he doubted anyone else would,
either.

“That could be awkward,” she conceded. “But still, orders
are orders, and my lot is to obey them.” She said the last with a twinkle in
her eye. She was daring him.

It was tempting. He could practically feel her wet lips
sliding over his shaft just thinking about it. But he’d take better care of her
than that. Someone walking in would be virtually assured, and he didn’t want to
see her humiliated. A little exhibitionist embarrassment in a club around
like-minded people, maybe. Not in front of random strangers. But her
willingness was sexy as hell. He wasn’t any stranger to willing, but with Kyra
it was somehow different. Maybe it was because he’d seen the way she tackled a
much bigger man to try to keep him away from Drew when he looked defenseless.
Maybe it was because she stuck by him in a hospital.
Or maybe it’s because
I’ve suffered a blow to the head.

But that wasn’t it. He could find women who would do almost
anything at a party, but he didn’t want to be with just any woman. He wanted to
show Kyra what sort of things could be done in the world of Dominance and
submission. He wanted to hear her scream her pleasure. He wanted to show her she
could ignore everyone around and focus on him in the middle of a party and yet
still watch the flush of pink in her cheeks when she realized people were
watching. He wanted to show her all sorts of erotic toys, to find out whether
she liked the feel of ropes or the clank of chains better. And he didn’t want
another man putting his hands on her. Not ever.

Feeling possessive was new emotional territory for him, and
he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“I’ll take a rain check,” he said.

“Darn.”

If he’d looked at her eyes, he might have thought she was
truly chagrined. But he noticed the way her shoulders relaxed against the pink
vinyl padding of the back of the little steel chair she was sitting in and he
heard the way she let out the breath she’d been holding. He smiled.

He’d always cared about making his partners happy, that was
nothing new. But he hadn’t turned many offers like hers down. He wasn’t sure
why he was so pleased with himself now.
Because I love her.
He wrinkled
his nose up.
Yeah, right.
Like that was ever going to happen to him. He
was being a good protective Dom, that was all it was. Besides, she was a pushy
sub—calling him Master when he’d told her not to, daring him to order her to do
something her body said she didn’t even want to do. She didn’t even know what
she wanted, how was he supposed to know?

She sat watching him and smiling. When he met her gaze, she
asked him, “What are you thinking?”

He paused, trying to decide whether to tell her or not. Deep
down, he was sure he wasn’t the best man for her. Or for anyone. He was a
pervert, after all. Just exactly what she thought when she’d first walked in
the door of Carpe Noctem. He’d assured a whole sequence of women that their
desires were okay, that submission was just another way some people loved, and
yet his need to be the Dominant—that was something entirely different. Wasn’t
it? “You don’t even know what you want, how am I supposed to know?” There. He’d
said it.

To his surprise, she didn’t budge from the chair. He
expected her to run at the harshness of his tone, at the accusation in his
words. “I don’t know. But so far, you’ve always guessed right.”

“Guessed.” He lay back against the bed again. He closed his
eyes for a second before opening them again, not wanting her to think he was
falling asleep.

“More than guessed, I think. But if topping me is too hard…”
She let the words linger, as if waiting for him to deny it.

Topping you isn’t hard. It’s too easy. Too exactly what I
want to do.
He didn’t say a thing. Let her believe it and maybe she’d run
away. Because for the first time he’d met someone he couldn’t order to go.

“Then I suppose I could try topping you.”

He stared at her.
No fucking way. Is that what she really
wants?
Her chin jutted out in challenge, the same way it had when she was trying
to tempt him into ordering her to go down on him. No, he decided. It’s not what
she really wants. But she’s willing to go to that length. Could he say the
same? Would he go as far?

I can’t.

The silence grew longer. Uncomfortably long. Maybe she did want
that.

But if I could do that, I’d be worthy of her.
His
heart hammered in his chest. He opened his mouth. The little innocent
submissive had overturned everything he knew about D/s. He opened his mouth to
speak. To say yes. He knew he couldn’t do it for long, but maybe if he could do
it for a while…

“But I think we both know we prefer it the other way
around,” she said. “It’s what we were made for, you and I, and you’ve been able
to show me that. I never thought a man like you could truly love, and yet you
do. You care for me when I’m willing to do crazy things. Even with a concussion
you faced down a crazy man who thought I was his wife. And you make me tingle
in all the right places. So here I sit, waiting, ready to do whatever you
command. And to give you as many rain checks as your poor head requires.”

He blinked at her. He’d sort of absorbed all of what she
said, but somehow the word “wife” was reverberating in his brain the most. “I
am so fucked,” he said at last.

She laughed. “Well, you could be. But maybe you’d be better
off resting for a bit.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I would, at that.” He reached out his
hand for her and she held his until he spoke again. “Go find a doctor and get
me out of this place, will ya?”

She met his gaze. It was a moment before he realized she
wasn’t staring him down, she was checking out his eyes. But she smiled,
satisfied, and stood. “Your wish is my command.” She let go of his hand,
performed the sincerest and most awkward-looking curtsey he’d ever witnessed,
and turned to go.

He watched her ass until the curtain got in the way.
Well,
I may be hooked, but at least I’ve got that to look forward to.

Chapter Ten

Kyra knocked lightly and no one answered. In his e-mail he’d
told her to come in without waiting for the door to be opened, but that felt
really odd. But he’d been quite precise in his instructions. She was to arrive
promptly at eight o’clock, let herself in, and look around. What could he have
that she needed to look at? She’d been in his apartment a few times since the
concussion for some hot play sessions and physically satisfying sex. She’d had
to beg off the last time he’d invited her because of a deadline, but she didn’t
have it looming over her anymore. Drew had been very understanding. Now she
only had to wonder what her editor had to say about Garrett Chandler’s new
taste for kinky.

She opened the door, cautiously. She could hear something
sizzling in the kitchen. Well, that answered her question, which was where was
he that he wasn’t answering the door. Was he alone? He’d said something about a
party coming up the last time they’d talked, and she couldn’t make out any
voices. She almost headed off in that direction when she saw a white piece of
paper with writing on it stuck with tape to the coat rack. Look around, he’d
said. She read the note.

“Take all of your clothes off, and leave them at the door,
then go sit naked at your place at the dining room table.”

Well, that settles it. He’s alone.
She smiled and had
lifted her blue jersey dress halfway over her head when she heard a voice,
again from the direction of the kitchen. She froze.
Or maybe it doesn’t. The
party.

For several seconds she stood there with her dress awkwardly
half off, and then she gritted her teeth.
I can do this. And sometimes the
things he wants me to do that I think are going to be horrible are a lot of
fun.
She rather doubted she would enjoy the party anyway, but she decided
he’d earned the benefit of the doubt.

She took her dress off. Staying in her underwear was
tempting, but sadly the last part of the instructions had been clear. Naked.
She kicked off her shoes, took off her bra, and slipped out of her panties. He
never seemed to mind stockings, so she left those on and walked forward. She
almost immediately breathed a sigh of relief. The voice was a familiar one, but
not someone she’d met; it was the anchorman for an evening news show on the
radio. She didn’t know he liked to listen to it.
Something else we have in
common.
She padded quietly across the floor.

The dining room area was dim, lit only by the flickering
flame from two tall red candles. There were two places set. One was at the end,
the other next to it, on the side. The leather cushion on the side seat had a
lovely little seat cover on it, in soft blue cotton, reinforcing her sense that
it was her place. She never would have thought a Dom would be concerned about
sparing his sub the momentary stickiness of leather on a bare bum, but it was a
quintessentially Drew-like gesture that brought a smile to her face.

There were two goblets at each place, one empty, one full of
water. A bottle of wine sat chilling in a bucket full of ice. Silverware,
napkins, all were arranged with precision, but no plates. She sipped her water
and waited. Her heart was pounding. He obviously had quite an agenda, but what
did it all mean?