Spice (15 page)

“Sounds like you've got it going on!”

“It's working right now,” Nadia said with a nod. “Because it's not like work. He knows my schedule is hella early, and he teaches one night a week. Plus I think he's still doing consulting work. So it's not like we have much of an opportunity to do anything that real couples do. I think I'm okay with it. I mean, I just want the sex, not the baggage. Been there, shredded the T-shirt.”

None of them had won blue ribbons in the relationship department. It took a strong person to stand with an addict in the midst of recovery, a level of patience that a lot of people simply didn't have. It took a lot for the addict to find their inner strength and get their shit together, and they had to do it because they wanted to for themselves and not for anyone else.

“I actually think I'm jealous,” Audie piped up.

“Jealous of what?”

“Our girl Nadia. Her words may be saying no to a relationship, but the rest of her is all ‘sign me up!'”

The table broke into laughter. “I'm not that bad or that obvious, am I?” Nadia asked, the tips of her ears burning with embarrassment.

“Only to those of us who know you,” Audie answered. “Sounds like you and the professor are doing so well, it almost makes me want to give up my footloose and fancy-free ways and try that whole moon-and-stars steady boyfriend thing. You know, monogamy.” She shuddered. “Don't know if it's for me, but it sure seems to agree with Nadia. Before you know it, we're going to be left behind, choking on her dust while she rides off into the sunset with Professor Sex.”

“I wouldn't do that!” Nadia protested. “I need you guys. You know that, right?”

“Of course we know it.” Vanessa reached out and clasped Nadia's hand. “We're here for each other. I'm pretty sure the professor knows that too. He certainly seemed to get it when he saw all of us together at the club.”

“He said he did.” Nadia managed a weak smile. “He called us the sisterhood of the crazy pants, but he was laughing when he said it.”

“He's got us pegged,” Siobhan said. “And he's got you pegged. In a good way.”

“Aw, crap.” Audie glanced at her watch, then stood. “I've got an appointment in fifteen minutes. I gotta go. I'll catch up later.” She blew kisses at them all, gathered her stuff, then flew out the door.

Siobhan frowned. So did Vanessa. “Something's going on with her.”

Guilt kicked Nadia in the heart. “Maybe I should talk to her.”

“Give her a little breathing space,” Siobhan suggested. “She'll come around. She always does.”

It was true. Audie, at twenty-five, was the youngest of their group and felt closer to Nadia than she did to either estranged mother Siobhan or outwardly perfect Vanessa. All her life she'd been made to feel unwanted, and so she expected those she became close with to reject her. Nadia knew it was difficult for Audie to trust anyone, but they'd made major headway in the two years since Audie had come to a recovery-group meeting in one of many attempts to get her sex addiction under control. Though Audie made her want to scream in frustration sometimes—she was a beautiful girl who needed to love herself first and best—she would continue to be there for Audie, just as she'd be there for the others in their little recovering family.

“When you talk to her,” Vanessa said after finishing her tea, “remind her that she promised she wouldn't take stuff out on us. And that we owe her a couple of bitch slaps.”

The bitch slaps were mostly verbal, though they'd been known to slap each other's shoulders to emphasize a point. When they'd first formed their group, they'd all sworn to be real with each other. Sometimes that realness turned ugly, but whoever thought recovery was pretty had never been through it.

After Vanessa took her leave, Siobhan and Nadia began the process to close down the café. Nadia couldn't help thinking about Audie's reaction. Did Audie have a problem with Nadia and Kane being together? Why would she?

“Don't let what Audie said get to you,” Siobhan said, as if reading Nadia's mind. “You know her issues. She's just worried about losing your friendship.”

“I know.” Nadia sighed, then went back to cleaning tables. “I don't know what to do about it. I can tell her that's not going to happen until I'm blue in the face, but she still won't believe it.”

“You prove it by doing it. Eventually she'll get it through that gorgeous red head of hers.”

“You know I'm not going to choose between you guys and Kane, right?” Nadia asked, her stomach churning with worry. “That there isn't a choice?”

Siobhan paused her sweeping. “You need to have a balanced life, Nadia. We all do. I've got the burlesque troupe. Vanessa has an art critique meet up or something. Kane gives you an outlet you desperately needed. If it grows into something more, I for one think it's a good thing. And about damn time.”

Nadia bit her lip. “But what if it becomes too much? If I spend too much time with him? What if it begins to affect our friendship? Or, God forbid, our business?”

“Seems to me that the professor is doing everything he can to fit into your life as it is,” Siobhan observed. “Has he asked you to change your schedule?”

“No.”

“Has he asked you to not go out with us?”

“No.”

“Has he asked you to choose between us and him?”

“No.”

Siobhan arched a pale brow. Finally Nadia laughed. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Give me a bitch slap without me realizing it?”

Siobhan shrugged. “It's a talent. Seriously though, I understand that you're concerned. This is all new and exciting and unlike anything you've experienced before. You have good reason to be cautious. But you also have good reason to embrace this for the good thing that it is. Let yourself enjoy it.”

Nadia took a deep breath. “One day at a time, one step at a time.”

One of their many mantras that got them through their tough spots. “Exactly.”

“You know,” Nadia began, “maybe you need to take a walk through
The Perfumed Garden
. Make your own declaration of sexual independence and hook up with a hot college student.”

“A student?” Siobhan laughed. “What, I don't rate a professor?”

“There's only one Professor Sex at Herscher, and he's claimed.” Nadia grinned. “There are tons of gorgeous college seniors who could use the influence of an experienced woman. I know I saw a few at the club the other night who definitely wanted to capture the attention of Sugar Malloy.”

Siobhan forced a laugh. “I'm thirty-five, Nadia. I've got nothing in common with a bunch of frat boys. I certainly don't want anyone looking for a surrogate mother. We both know my maternal record is shitty.”

“You make it sound like you're an old maid or something, ready to sign up for AARP,” Nadia chided. “You've got your whole life ahead of you just like the rest of us.”

“I know that,” Siobhan replied with excessive calm. Strange how she sounded like Vanessa in that moment. “I also know that I broke my high-school sweetheart's heart and I have an eighteen-year-old daughter who can't stand the sight of me and won't take my calls because I chose prescription drugs over family. Why would I want to inflict that drama on some poor guy?”

“I want you to have this feeling.” Nadia gave her partner an impulsive hug. “I want you to be happy.”

“Then it's a good thing I am happy, isn't it?” The entrance bell chimed and Siobhan broke into a smile. “Speaking of happy . . .”

Kane entered, a shopping bag in his hand. Nadia hurried over to him. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Snaking an arm around her waist, he dropped a kiss on her that made her forget she stood in the center of the café, in front of the windows, in front of everybody. She shoved her arms beneath his jacket and kissed him back with enthusiasm.

He laughed as they broke apart. “If I'd known that was the reaction I'd get, I'd have brought you presents before now.”

“Presents?” She snatched the bag from his grasp. “What sort of presents?”

“For Saturday night.” His voice did that low and sexy dip that went straight to her clit. “For my wild card, and your fantasy.”

“M-my fantasy?” She could barely get the words out.

“Yes.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I decided to torture you with an early sneak peek. Don't open it here unless you want Siobhan and your staff to know our Saturday night plans.”

“Kane.” She clutched the bag to her chest. Whatever was in it had a little weight to it, but not much. Maybe it was a corset. The thought made her nipples tighten in anticipation. “You do realize how far away Saturday is, right?”

“Fully aware, beautiful. I'm torturing myself too.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Whatever the lady desires.” He kissed her again. “Talk to you soon.”

K
ane lived in a sleek, four-story condo on Bay View Road that offered every resident a premium view of the bay and the spectacular sunsets that gave the town its name. Knowing the price of her two-story downtown condo made Nadia realize that Kane must have made a better living from his side jobs than she'd guessed.

She shivered in her long, lightweight coat, balancing on a thin edge between excitement and nervousness as she knocked on his door. Beneath the coat, she wore the present he'd given her on Tuesday, the present that was the key to the fantasy weekend. She reminded herself that she'd asked for this, that she'd wanted to surrender on her terms, wanted to be pushed by someone strong enough, capable enough to take the gift she offered and treasure it.

The door opened, and Nadia's breath caught in her throat. Kane looked gorgeous as usual, but there was a feral rawness to his features that made her pussy clench. He wore loose-fitting black pants with a red sash tied around his waist. His chest and feet were bare and for some reason, that really turned her on. He had a swimmer's build, a broad chest and shoulders built for powering through water, a tapered waist, deliciously defined arms and legs. His dark hair tumbled over his forehead in a careless style that was incredibly sexy, and his black eyes gleamed at her with hunger, with possession and satisfaction.

“Are you my new harem girl?”

Want surged to life inside her. They were just words but they served as a checkpoint, an acknowledgment that once she crossed that threshold, she'd leave her comfortable world behind. “I am,” she replied softly. “Are you my master?”

Approval lit the depth of his eyes. “I am,” he said, his voice a low purr. “Come.”

She stepped through the doorway, conscious that she was entering predator territory. The condo seemed large and open, with oversized windows and glass doors dominating the far wall. Gauzy white curtains stained orange with the afternoon sunlight didn't block the view of a wide, private balcony and its sun-drenched view of the bay.

She barely noticed that the décor was a stylish and masculine mix of Zen and Old World style that suited the man who lived there. Barely registered the low-slung furniture of rich dark wood and equally dark leather standing in strategic points about the large room, broken only by golden candlelight and pops of scarlet here and there: a gigantic abstract painting that looked like a woman's sex after it had been thoroughly pleasured, a couple of throw pillows for sitting on the floor. Didn't give more than a passing thought to the seductive, rhythmic music pouring from a meticulously carved cabinet that took up another wall, its doors open to reveal a large flatscreen and other entertainment electronics. No, her entire focus fixated on the center of the room and what awaited her there.

A black metal contraption stood on a plush white rug. It looked like a cross between gymnastic bars and a sex swing. Beside it lay a pile of bright red rope.

Her confidence wavered. She turned to him as he shut and locked the door, her heart pounding against her chest. “Kane?”

“You're mine, Nadia,” he told her, his voice firm. “Mine to pleasure, mine to treasure. This weekend you've given yourself over to my care in every way, so we both get what we want. You know I won't hurt you. You know what to say to stop anything at any time.”

He stepped closer to her, concern and lust and magnetism shining in his gaze. “Last chance to change your mind. Will you surrender yourself completely to me this weekend? Will you trust yourself with me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, master.”

“Good.” His smile spread like sunshine through her, making her feel ridiculously pleased for having pleased him. “Now let me see you.”

He reached for the belt at her waist, untying it. Her mouth went dry when he went to work on her buttons, taking his time opening her nearly ankle-length coat as if she were a present and he wanted to savor unwrapping her.

She felt like a present, a very scantily wrapped present. When she'd seen the outfit he'd bought her for the first time, she'd been excited, aroused, and touched. Her fantasy, come to life. Then she'd seen his note:
Your master expects you to arrive, dressed and ready, at three. Do not be late.

Driving to his place wearing nothing but the costume and her coat had been a sweet, nerve-wracking thrill. Kane was giving her the fantasy she'd mentioned in passing. An almost throwaway statement that he'd noted and gone to great lengths to make happen. That he would do this for her stunned and delighted her. The least she could do was completely surrender to the sensual game and make sure he enjoyed himself as much as she intended to.

He loosened the last button then pushed the coat from her shoulders, tossing it over a nearby chair. The cool air hit the wide gold coin collar that draped from her throat to the top of her bared breasts. A matching belt hung low on her hips, with two pieces of gossamer fabric the color of fire acting as flimsy excuses for modesty panels. Bracelets lined her forearms, and clinking coin earrings cascaded from her ears. With her coat gone, she felt like a harem girl in truth, come to see to her master's pleasure, whatever that would be.

Kane sucked in a breath as he stepped back to survey her, a long perusal that budded her nipples. “I bought a harem girl but I am delivered a fire goddess.”

The soft, reverent words nearly undid her. Need filled her, the need to please him. “What does my master desire of his harem girl?”

“Everything.” Raw desire roughened his voice, made his features seem harsh as he gestured to her barely there outfit. “Though I must say, while seeing you in your finery is stunning, I now have an overwhelming desire to see you in my ropes.”

Nadia's heart hammered so hard in her chest she was certain Kane could hear it. Her gaze was once again drawn to the metal stand and the pile of ropes as Kane walked over, retrieved a smaller coil from the stack, then crossed back to her.

He traced her skin with the tip of the rope, the end at once soft and stiff. “The fully restored and translated version of
The Perfumed Garden
has two manners attributed to India that involve the use of rope. Their names are
el zedjadja
, piercing with the lance, and
el hedouh
, hanging.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at the stand, then back at him. “H-hanging?”

“
Suspension
might be a more accurate description. As the sheik said, ‘The man brings the woman's hands and feet together in the direction of her neck, so that her vulva is standing out like a dome, and then raises her up by means of a pulley which is fixed in the ceiling. Then he stretches himself out below her, holding in his hand the other end of the cord, by means of which he can lower her down upon himself, and so is able to penetrate into her. He thus causes her alternately to rise and descend upon his tool until the ejaculation takes place.'”

He paused, as if waiting for her response. “That sounds very intense, master. I'm not sure I could enjoy myself enough to please you while I'm hog-tied to a pulley like that, no matter how magnificent you are. Perhaps the other one?”

He guided the rope down the valley between her breasts. “Piercing with the lance would have you suspended from the ceiling by means of four ropes tied to your wrists and ankles. A fifth rope would be around your waist, binding you in such a way that it wouldn't hurt your back of course.”

“Of course. Sir.”

He raised an eyebrow, then lightly slapped her left nipple with the end of the rope. The sting shot a sharp burst of need straight to her clit. “Don't be cheeky, harem girl,” he admonished her. “Your pleasure pleases me, but I will withhold it if I have to.”

“I apologize, sir.” Stopping this delightful interlude was the last thing she wanted to happen.

“After you're properly and safely suspended, I'd stand in front of you, fill that gorgeous pussy of yours, then give you a gentle push.”

He gripped her hips, pushing her away then bringing her back to him. “You'd fuck me by the motion of your swings,” he told her. “The same as if we used a sex chair.”

Nadia licked her lips, desire so thick in her system she found it difficult to form words. “Which . . . which manner will you introduce your poor harem girl to, sir?”

The grin he gave her fueled her desire into a blaze. “Both.”

“B-both?”

“Yes. I drew a wild card the other night, which inspired me to create this weekend for you, and to introduce you to
Kinbaku
. That's a Japanese form of binding.”

“
Kinbaku
,” she repeated, trying out the word.
Kaname's Kinbaku.

“Your nipples just got harder,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I think someone really likes the idea of being tied up in my ropes.”

“Yes,” she tried to say, but the word wouldn't escape the want thickening in her throat. She swallowed, moistened her lips, tried again. “Yes . . . sir.”

“Right answer.” He trailed the end of the rope down her rib cage, over her belly. Goose bumps broke out over her skin, her breath coming in short gasps as he stroked the end of the rope over her navel. “When I first started exploring human sexuality, I began with my mother's native country and quickly became fascinated with the binding art.
Kinbaku
can be a show, an art exhibit, a punishment, a power exchange. It depends on the intent between the rigger and the living canvas. For many, it's all about the art, the grace and beauty of the human canvas combined with the artful placement of the rope. For others it's about dominance and submission, or the meditative effect of being bundled up and the grace of surrendering. And some people use it as a prelude to sex.”

His gaze pinned her in place as he slid the braided cord over her swollen clit. “It will be all of that for us, and more. Spread your legs.”

With her heart suddenly doing a tap dance in her chest, she did as he ordered. He reached up, his movements almost formal as he removed the heavy coin collar from her neck. Next he removed the matching earrings, then the bracelets and finally the belt. He stripped her in silence, and as he did so he stripped away everything that had held her back—every bit of uncertainty, worry, and past specters. Everything fell away, everything else was unnecessary except for this moment, her, him, and the rope.

The first coil of rope he wound just above the rise of her breasts, then added another. As she'd thought, the cording was supple yet lightly rough, a weird balance that dug into her skin and made it easy for him to knot. As he coiled and knotted the rope above and below her breasts he kept up a low monologue, telling her how beautiful she was, how wonderful the rope looked on her skin, how much pleasure he got from seeing her in his ropes.

He wove the ropes into a diamond pattern on her skin, but she could feel a knot strategically placed against her anus with another knotted just above her throbbing clit. Rope parted her labia, holding her open. Each tightening of the knots sent waves of sensation through her body that were at once soothing and sexually stimulating. She fell under his spell, succumbing to the joy of pleasing him, the security of being tied, the comfort and relief of giving herself over to him and his care. In that moment, that perfect place of bliss, she felt as if she truly belonged to him. Nothing and no one could tear them apart when they had these ties to hold on to. The more he worked, the more pliant she became, surrendering as she did, the only sounds their combined breathing and the slide of the rope over her flesh.

He then guided her hands behind her back and used another length of rope to bind her at the bend of her elbows then again at her wrists, secure but not tight enough to hurt. A sense of helplessness swept over her, a sharp moment when she had to decide to fight or surrender, decide whether being bound like this was too much or exactly what she needed.

Kane stepped back in front of her and she could see the question in his eyes. That he knew her so well, knew the indecision swirling inside her, made the decision easy. She smiled and nodded, letting her acceptance show in her eyes. “I feel beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.” He cupped her cheek for just a moment, a smile of approval bowing his lips. Warmth spread through her and she sank beneath it, sank into experiencing the weight of the ropes, the soft but scratchy pressure across her skin, losing focus as Kane's hands and the ropes became her entire world.

Her eyes slid closed as she slipped under, into a place in her head she'd thought only a pill could deliver her to. This was better, so much more everything, because Kane had control.

She didn't know how long the binding took or even how he did them as he added more ropes to her waist and legs, molding and shaping her body as he saw fit. But she came partially back to herself when he gripped her shoulders, the rope, tilting her horizontal then lifting her off the ground. A length of rope led from a knot between her shoulder blades up to a large hook on the upper bar and as she watched Kane added more ties until she was suspended entirely along her right side, her left leg stretched toward the floor, her right leg bent and suspended. Then he stepped back, leaving her alone.