The Darker Side of Pleasure (29 page)

She really had to focus!

“What about a little pain play? Spanking, pinching?”

Her heart gave a quick, sharp thump in her chest. “I…I don’t know.”

“Honest answer. Very good. This is something we can explore as we go.”

Good lord, he was going to spank her! Her hands twisted her napkin into a tight knot in her lap. Her panties were suddenly drenched.

“What about nipple clamps?”

“How am I supposed to know these things if I’ve never tried them?”

“Is that a no? Or a maybe?”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll take that as a maybe. What about being made to serve me? To obey orders.”

“Serve you? Obey? In what way?”

“To kneel on the floor, to clasp your hands behind your back. To strip your clothes off.” His tone had lowered again, a sexy rumble in his chest. “To do as I tell you. To serve me drinks, to bend over my lap.”

God.

“Yes.” The word came out on a whisper.

“Excellent. There are a number of things we’ll table for now: electrical play, piercing, anal play. You’re too new. We’ll begin slowly.”

God, God, God!
What was she getting herself into? But her soaking panties were a clear indication that she would enjoy this. Wanted this, even though it had truly never occurred to her before. What had he said about letting go of control being a relief? She didn’t know about that. All she knew was that the thought of doing these things with him turned her on, made her hotter than she’d been in a long time.

He stood, took his wallet out of a pocket, and threw some cash on the table.

“Shall we begin?”

CHAPTER THREE

“N
OW?”

“There’s no time like the present, as they say. Do you need to go back to your hotel room for anything before we go?”

“I assumed we would be going to my hotel room.”

She had to get a handle on this situation. Some semblance of control. He was too controlled, too calm.

“We could, but I don’t make a habit of carrying my equipment with me. Of course, I could make do with my bare hands and a few belts and scarves, but I prefer to do things properly.”

“Wait. I…I just need a moment.”

He came to stand behind her chair. He leaned over her, closer, until she could feel his breath warm on her hair. “If you give yourself time to think about this, to analyze it, to break it down, you will talk yourself out of it.”

“Maybe that would be a good idea.” But the scent of him had every nerve in her body on red alert. He smelled as elegantly sexy as he looked; something dark and smoky, like his voice. She pulled in a deep breath, held it in her lungs.

His voice was almost a whisper now. “Don’t let fear force you to miss this adventure, Magdalena. And I promise you, this will be an adventure, the likes of which you have never experienced before.”

She was shivering all over, a faint trembling running through her body like an electric current.

“Are you ready, Magdalena?”

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“Then we’ll go.”

His hand was hot on the small of her back as he walked her out of the restaurant. She felt as though he’d already branded her flesh with his name. In front of the restaurant he stopped and turned to her. “You have a cell phone, I imagine?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you have a friend you can call? Anyone whom you can tell exactly what’s going on?”

“Why?”

“Because you are about to get into my car, to come to my home. Someone should know who you’re with, where you’re going.”

She stared at him. Why was he saying these things to her? Yet she realized this was noble of him, protective. She’d never met anyone like him. “I could call a friend in New York. He’ll understand. I think he will.”

“Then do it.”

She shook her head as she pulled her cell from her briefcase, dialed Jet’s number. She waited while it rang. Jet Jackson was her best friend. He handled the music column at
Citi
. He was tall, gorgeous, darkly exotic, and decidedly homosexual.

“Jet here. Speak to me.”

“It’s me.”

“Maggie! Darling! How is San Francisco?”

“It’s…interesting. Look, Jet, I don’t have a lot of time to explain now, but I need to give you some information.”

Damien nodded his head, and handed her a card with his name, telephone number, address.

“Ready and waiting, doll.”

“I’m going to be spending some time with Damien Knight, the man I was sent here to interview. I thought you should have his information, know where I am.”

“I can get it at the office, from Delia.”

“No, I want you to have it.”

“‘Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice.’ You’re going to have to explain this later. In great detail.”

“I will, I promise.” She read him the information from the card. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, honey, see that you do that. Is he gorgeous?”

“Yes.”

“Then good for you!”

“I have to go now, Jet.”

She hit the off button, stuffed the cell phone back into her briefcase, and looked at Damien.

He nodded his head. “Very good. This way.”

His car was parked right in front of the restaurant. Leave it to this man to find a parking place in San Francisco, a city where that was a nearly impossible task. He drove a sleek black BMW sedan. A modern gangster’s car.

He held the door for her—all old-world gentleman, if she didn’t know what he was about to do with her. She slid onto the cream-colored leather, and waited while he came around the car to get into the driver’s side. She was quiet while he started the engine, shifted, and pulled out into the street.

Block after block went by in a blur. What the hell was she doing, anyway? But she was no prude, as she had said to him. She’d been with plenty of men in her time. Her body buzzed with an exquisite anticipation. The attraction was far too intense to resist. The challenge was too good to resist. Still, her nerves were drawn tight. She didn’t dare talk to him on the ride across town. Respecting her silence, he turned on some music, a familiar, classical symphony. No rock music for him. She would have been shocked if that was what he’d chosen.

They headed west and south, out of North Beach, down to the Embarcadero and along the edge of San Francisco Bay. The view was spectacular, even with the usual year-round fog floating in wisps over the gray-blue water. The air would be cool and damp outside, but in the car she was warm. She glanced over at his strong profile, at the line of his jaw, at his hands on the steering wheel. Her thighs tensed, quivered. Heat crept through her system in curling ribbons.

They drove past Aquatic Park, with its joggers, people flying kites, doing tae kwon do on the long expanse of lawn, and the view of the Bay really opened up. He continued west, then made a left turn and they climbed up a hill, into an area she wasn’t familiar with. The houses were spectacular, in a variety of architectural styles. All million-dollar homes or more.

A right turn onto a side street where the homes were even more regal, more beautiful; mansions really.

“This is where you live?”

“Another block.”

She should have guessed as much. A man with his grace, his manners, his natural aura of power, had to live in some mansion on a hill, far above the dirt and noise of everyday life.

She felt as though she were in a story about someone other than herself.

They rolled to a stop in front of a three-story house of red brick, covered in climbing ivy. Lovely, intricate ironwork graced the paned windows, as well as the gate that rolled away to reveal a short driveway when he pushed a button on his key ring.

They drove in, and the gate slid shut behind them. Already she had a sense of isolation, of being in another world. Her body was doing strange things, filling up with a kind of melting sensation that made her weak all over.

He drove into a dark garage. Dim lights came on and the wide door rolled down behind them. Totally alone with him now, cut off from the world. She shivered, and almost jumped when he laid his hand over hers.

“Stay here, I’ll get your door.”

Yes, definitely full of old-world charm. She loved it despite everything she’d taught herself about being an independent woman.

He held his hand out to her, helped her from the car, and took her briefcase out of her hand. Then he led the way through a side door and into the house.

They came into a narrow hall that opened into an airy foyer. The floors were marble—marble, for God’s sake! There was a gorgeous piece of modern sculpture on a columnar stand, a sinuous twisting of stone that was clearly erotic.

She didn’t have long to examine it before he led her across the foyer and into what must be the living room. One wall of floor-to-ceiling windows was set off by banks of bookcases. She itched to get closer, to see what sort of books he read. Later, maybe.

The room was decorated in clean neutrals: sandstone, warm whites, touches of rich browns and golds, a touch of black here and there. A large Persian rug covered the gleaming wood floor. The furnishings were surprisingly contemporary for such traditional architecture, but the overall effect was pleasing, sophisticated in a simple way.

“Please, sit down.” He gestured to one of the long white sofas. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No. Thank you. You know, this is all so oddly civilized.”

“I’m a civilized man, if a little depraved.” He gave her a crooked, sexy grin. “Did you think I’d live in some dark, underground hole, with chains dangling from the walls?”

“Maybe.”

“I do have an underground chamber. Perhaps if you’re well-behaved I’ll show it to you.”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking, but desire stabbed through her at the images he conjured. Her hands gripped the edge of the sofa cushions. Where was this coming from?

He went on. “We need to discuss safe words. Are you familiar with the term?”

“I think it has something to do with my telling you when I’ve had enough of…whatever you may be doing.”

“Yes. But we should be specific here. If you feel that what’s happening is too much for you to take, emotionally or physically, and you want me to slow down or back off, but you don’t want the scene to stop, you say yellow. If you need everything to stop, you say red. I promise you I will respect these words and will not try to argue or cajole you into continuing. But do not use these words unless you mean them. And if you need to use them, don’t try to struggle through. Don’t prevent yourself from using your safe words because of some sense of pride. Understood?”

“It seems simple enough.”

“Do you understand, Magdalena?”

A firm tone, yet nothing condescending there. Simply commanding.

“Yes, I understand. But I have to tell you, Damien, I have no idea how I’ll respond to being…given commands. I’ve never done anything like this before, and while I’m willing to try, this is very much counter to who I am.”

“It’s people like you, the strong ones, who most need to let it all go. Trust me. You’re in my hands now. Alright?”

She nodded, blew out a long breath. “Alright.”

“And Magdalena? From now on, you will call me ‘Sir.’”