Forbidden Fires Page 8

  Delia’s body heated up from her toes to the face she was sure was flaming, and the hottest part of her was her core. She was on fire from the inside out, all because of talk about limits and punishments.

  “For now, however, let’s move on. A Dom often requires his sub to address him a certain way. Sir or Master are the usual two. Again, that’s up to you. Is there something you want Delia to call you?”

  She looked over at Colin and saw the devil at play in his eyes. “Supreme Exalted High Ruler of the Household will do.”

  “In. Your. Dreams,” she retorted.

  Colin laughed, and though he tried to hide it, even Gabe McConnell grinned.

  “We’ll use Sir for you tonight.” He turned to her, his grin completely subdued, his face serious. “Rule number two. From now on, when Colin asks you a question, you refer to him as Sir. And when I ask you a question, you refer to me as Master Gabriel. Is that understood, Delia?”

  She nodded.

  His voice snaked out like a whip, flaying her senses. “Excuse me? I asked you a question.”

  “Yes, Master Gabriel,” she amended quickly. The words felt strange on her tongue, but good, too, in a very arousing way.

  “Better. Take off your dress.”

  Her heart nearly stopped, and she froze. Jesus, could she do this? Really?

  “Is that necessary?” Colin growled, his hands clenched into fists on the table. His eyes smoldered, though, and red tinged his cheeks. Her heart started beating again, but double-time. That color wasn’t how he looked when he got angry, it was how he looked when he was aroused.

  That sign gave her the courage to put her fingers to the single tie that held her dress together.

  “It is. Clothing is a shield. Remove that shield and the person becomes vulnerable. It also puts you and me in a dominant position and Delia in a submissive one.”

  Colin flexed his fists on the table, but kept his eyes glued on hers.

  The inherent power in the moment was stunning. She’d assumed that, in this submissive role, she’d have no power, but the opposite was true. She could use her safe word to call an end to things, or she could choose to comply. The choice was hers, and therefore so was the power.

  “Take off your dress,” Master Gabriel repeated, his voice brooking no argument.

  She followed his words but ignored him otherwise and kept her eyes locked on Colin’s. She tugged at the ties until they were loose, then drew them apart. Jitters made her fingers tremble. It had been a full year since he’d seen her naked, but he’d never seen her quite like this.

  Underneath her dress she had on thigh-high silk stockings, a sheer lace demi-bra that didn’t quite cover her nipples, and tiny thong panties that showed off where, exactly, she’d been waxed. She was honest enough to admit, at least to herself, that she’d chosen the clothing with Colin’s reaction in mind. Vanity, thy name is Delia.

  “Jesus,” Colin swore, and the heated sound made her nipples bead.

  Master Gabriel let out a low, appreciative whistle. “You’re a lucky man, Reardon.”

  Reardon. The sound of their undercover name was like a splash of cold water, helping to keep her mind focused on the job they had to do, including trying to figure out whether or not McConnell had caused ten deaths. Hands somewhat steadier, she finished removing her dress and held it, unsure what to do with it.

  “Fold it and put it on the sideboard,” Master Gabriel ordered.

  Her stomach clenched. She really hoped McConnell wasn’t guilty, because she was going to have to walk across the room, giving him—and Colin—a view of her ass covered by nothing but a thin strip of lace between her cheeks. A shiver ran down her spine, raising goose bumps on her flesh, but she did his bidding.

  Colin’s sucked-in breath made her stumble in her heels, and she dropped the dress from her shaking hands. Damn. She closed her eyes, bending at her knees so she could pick up the bundle, but Master Gabriel snapped out another order.

  “Stop.”

  She froze in her tracks.

  “Tell your wife what you’d like for her to do, Reardon.”

  Heat rushed into her face and chest, making her dizzy. She looked back over her shoulder. Both Colin and Master Gabriel were watching her. Colin’s eyes blazed with fire, but Master Gabriel’s gaze was cool, remote, as if he were sizing her up. That calculating look threw her for a moment, but she swallowed hard and forced herself to ignore it.

  Colin raised an eyebrow, and the wolfish grin on his face was almost her undoing. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Then bend at the waist so I can see how wet those panties are. This is really turning you on, isn’t it, love?” The question surprised her, and before she could form her reply, Colin barked out his demand. “I asked you a question, Delia. And I expect an answer.”

  She stared at him, dumbfounded. He’s discovered his inner Dom. Her body flashed hot all over. “Yes, Sir.”

  His eyes flared brightly. “Bend over to get the dress, but don’t pick it up yet.”

  “Y-yes, Sir.” She widened her stance and then bent, moaning as the strip of the thong tightened against her bare crotch.

  There was murmuring behind her, and then footsteps.

  Colin gripped her left hip, his fingers pressing deep enough to sting, and she bit back a cry. God, that felt great. Then his other hand coasted along the lace in the crease of her ass, teasing her skin with the rough pads of his fingertips. Jesus, it was so easy to get lost in this, in these incredible feelings. Would it really be so bad if she let herself go this weekend, to become Delia Reardon and give in to all her indulgences?

  Yes.

  She shivered, and froze as an errant thought crossed her mind. It was Colin touching her, right?

  Or was it Master Gabriel?

  Her stomach twisted, but she made herself remember Marcus’s words. He’d known McConnell for years, believed he’d never be capable of something as heinous as these fires, and she’d known Marcus even longer and trusted his judgment. She trusted her own too, for the most part, and she hadn’t gotten any malevolent vibes off Gabe McConnell. With a deep breath to calm her nerves, she let herself just feel, and found herself hotter and wetter than ever.

  All rational thought fled when Colin’s—or Master Gabriel’s—fingers dipped easily inside her moist sheath, stroking her to the point of almost-no-return. She hovered right on the verge of orgasm, with Colin’s name trapped in her throat. She opened her mouth to scream as she reached the edge.

  And then he stopped.

  Chapter Nine

  Sweat slid down Colin’s back as Delia’s body clenched around his fingers, but he did what McConnell had told him to do, loath as he was to do it.

  Bring her to the brink, but don’t let her go over. Christ, his dick had never been harder than it was right this minute. He was a twisted bastard to get off on having another guy telling him what to do and watching him play with his woman.

  And Delia was his woman, no doubt about it. When this was over, they were going to talk. It was obvious they both still had feelings, and God knew the explosive chemistry was still there.

  “Oh, please. Don’t stop,” Delia begged as he slipped his fingers free, leaning down to nip at the curve of her hip. “Whichever one of you it is, please don’t stop.”

  Holy Christ, she didn’t know who was touching her, and she liked it anyway? If his dick had been hard before, now it was iron.

  He looked over at McConnell and frowned. Fuck, he wanted to continue with this unbelievable lesson, but he also wanted to plant his fist in McConnell’s face for even daring to look at Dee while she was like this, and he wasn’t sure which desire was stronger. It wasn’t like the guy was leering at her, he wasn’t, but that didn’t seem to matter.

  She made an inarticulate sound, and McConnell barked out another order. “That’s enough for now. You belong to Colin, and he gets to decide whether or not you get to come. Now, pick up the dress and stand up straight.”

  Colin took the dress from her
left hand and dropped it on the chair behind him, then tightened his grip on her hips, steadying her as she rose. He turned her toward him and was bowled over by the look of pure need on her face. Her cheeks and her chest were bright pink, her nipples hard pebbles in her barely there bra.

  His finger was still wet, and he drew it over one taut peak, teasing her until she cried out again, ignoring the fact that McConnell was watching both of them. He peeled her thong down over her hips, sucking in a sharp breath as he got his first full view of her, completely waxed. She stepped out of the panties, and he dipped his fingers back into her moist heat, then dragged them wetly across the smooth skin of her mound.

  A sob choked in her throat. “God, Colin. Please.”

  “No.” McConnell angled his head as Delia made another frustrated groan. “Time for the next lesson, I think. And it’s time we move this to the sitting room. With Colin’s permission, I’ll teach you different submissive positions you can take at his request. For lack of a better description, you’ll be trying them on for size and giving him a show.”

  The sitting room was on the opposite side of the hallway from the dining room, and the dismayed look on her face was priceless as she processed what that meant.

  “You want me to walk around like this?” she asked, waving her hands around her mostly naked body. “Through the hall, where anyone coming to the door can see me?”

  “Like that,” McConnell said firmly. “There’s no one here but the three of us. You can always put an end to the training. Do you want to use your safe word?”

  Dee’s spine snapped straight at the challenge, and Colin had to bite back a laugh as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and stared mutinously at McConnell. “Not on your life.”

  He and McConnell both watched her stalk from the room, head held high, hips swaying seductively. This wasn’t Delia playing a role, this was Delia. He’d often been on the receiving end of her attitude, and how many times had she walked away from him, proud and strong? Rather than annoyance, the emotion he’d felt a year ago, arousal tugged low in his belly, an ache that had taken permanent residence there since he’d come back into her life.

  McConnell laughed quietly, a small grin on his lips. “I guess it’s true what they say about redheads and tempers. You’re going to have your hands full, Reardon. A strong, willful submissive is a challenge, but she’s also one hell of a gift.” He continued, his voice low. “But I’m going to warn you now, so you’re prepared. I asked Delia a question, and she didn’t use the form of address she was told to use. We’re going to have a discussion on behavior and punishments. Consider this a chance to learn about spanking.”

  Colin swallowed hard, but he had to admit he was turned on by the whole thing. He’d lay odds Delia knew what she was doing, was purposely being bratty to see how far she could go, but still. “If you hurt her—”

  McConnell interrupted. “I can tell you this. If the spanking hurts, she’s going to love it. I’ve been part of the D/s lifestyle for twenty years, and I’ve trained my share of subs, mentored just as many Doms. Your wife is a natural submissive.”

  His words were like a sock to the gut. “She is?”

  “I believe so. She defers to you, wants to please you, at least sexually. Watch how she drops her eyes to the floor when she looks to you. Her submissive nature is in her body language. But not every sub is into pain, so if she doesn’t like it, she can use her safe word. And if you don’t like where things are going, you can use yours.” McConnell cocked his head. “You’re a little harder to read. Dominant, but your body language says you don’t want to be here even as your face says this is arousing you. Anyway, it’s your call if you want to keep going or stop. I don’t have a vested interest in you choosing either way. I’m here as a teacher for Delia, and a mentor for you, period.”

  The seed of doubt Colin had about McConnell’s guilt grew into a tree. He had a finely tuned bullshit meter, and McConnell came across as totally dominant and definitely into kink, but he saw no signs of antisocial, psychopathic, arson-profile behavior. And thank God for that, because Delia was in a vulnerable position in this dynamic, and they didn’t really have a choice, since learning how to blend in as an active Dom/sub pair was the whole reason they were here. He nodded. “I’m ready.”

  She was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, muttering under her breath, and she ignored them as they entered the room. McConnell waved him to a wingback chair in the corner, so he sat, his nerves on red-alert as the man went to a small cabinet and crouched down beside it.

  “So far, we’ve only discussed two rules, Delia,” McConnell said, his voice deceptively even, “and you’ve already broken one. Tell me what rule that was.”

  Colin sat still, not nearly as calm inside as he hoped he looked on the outside. She stopped her pacing and flicked her eyes to his, dropping them to the floor after a tense second. Son of a bitch, she really did do that. He’d never noticed before.

  She bit her lip. “When you ask me a question, I’m supposed to refer to you as Master Gabriel.”

  “And did you do that?”

  “No, Master Gabriel.”

  “What do you think happens to subs who don’t follow the rules?” he asked mildly.

  Her eyes widened, and the pulse fluttered wildly in her neck. “They get punished, Master Gabriel?”

  He nodded. “They get punished. Go stand by your husband. Tonight, you’re going to see what that means.”

  Her husky, indrawn breath sent a bolt of sheer pleasure to Colin’s cock. “Yes, Master Gabriel,” she whispered.

  Her walk toward him was uneven, but her eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them before. She was completely into this, trembling with need, her own fluids slicking her thighs with a wet sheen. She paused beside him and he reached out and squeezed her hand, to reassure her. And himself.

  McConnell strode over, holding several things.

  “These are restraints,” he said, showing her before he dropped to a knee, fastening one around each ankle. “And this is a spreader bar.”

  He attached one end of the bar to a metal loop on the restraint of her left foot. He grasped her other leg, moving it into position. His touch was clinical, but Colin’s fingers clenched and he had to keep himself from shoving McConnell’s hands off her body.

  Mine.

  She was uncharacteristically quiet as the man worked, but Colin smelled only the sweet scent of her arousal, and no fear.

  When the spreader bar was fastened to both restraints, McConnell placed his broad palm against her back and guided her face down across Colin’s lap, angling her so her sexy, naked ass was in the air. “Reach down and put your palms flat against the floor. Don’t take them off the floor, or the punishment will be double.”

  She wiggled around on Colin’s lap, brushing against his already swollen cock, teasing it unmercifully. It had been a year since he’d been with her, and this was sheer torture.

  “Settle down,” he growled. He put one arm across her back, holding her tightly, pressing his finger into her side, grazing her breast with the tips of his fingers. She squirmed again, and some deeply buried instinct took over. He caressed the curve of her buttocks with his free hand, raised it and brought it down with a sharp thwack on one cheek.

  She cried out, and he did it again, this time on the other cheek. She whimpered, but she stopped struggling.

  McConnell crouched down next to her head, gently pushing her hair out of the way. He cupped her cheek. “Do you need to use your safe word, Delia?”

  She shook her head almost violently. “N-no, Master Gabriel.”

  Was she crying? Colin wished he could see her face, but for now he had to trust that McConnell wouldn’t steer him wrong.

  “She’s okay, Reardon. You like this, don’t you, Delia? Tell Colin so he knows.”

  “Y-yes, Master Gabriel. I like this, Sir.”

  Colin stared at the pink tinge on Delia’s ass. Why did that and her bold admission make him eve
n harder?

  McConnell continued stroking her cheek. “For first punishments, I usually give a brand new sub five to ten strokes, and I let her choose how many. When Colin asks you, make sure you answer him properly.”

  Colin cleared his throat. “How bad a girl were you, Delia? How many strokes should I give you?”

  “Ten, Sir,” she whispered, and his pulse started pounding triple time. “Please.”

  “Good girl,” McConnell murmured approvingly. “Reardon, alternate sides up through eight and pause, please.”

  Colin sucked in some air, tightened his grip on Delia and delivered six more smacks in rapid succession. Delia moaned long and loud at each of them. When he stopped, as McConnell had told him to do, she started begging.

  “Oh, God. Colin, please!”

  He heard tears in her voice this time, and his heart clenched. “McConnell?”

  Still squatting next to her, McConnell wrapped her hair in his fist and tugged her face up to meet his eyes. “Shit, Reardon, she loves this. Her eyes are wild, and yeah, she’s crying, but not because she’s had enough or because it hurts. You want more, don’t you, Delia? Colin’s worried about you. Let him know what you’re feeling.”

  “More, please. Please don’t stop, Sir.” She arched her back, pushing her ass up higher, begging. “Please.”

  Colin drew his hand back and forth across the red marks he’d left. He’d never imagined he’d be turned on by this, but Christ, he was. She was too, trembling, making small, needy mewling sounds, and his trousers were soaked where her body could no longer contain the proof of her desire.