Though they’d spent plenty of time together over the last years, it had always been in a neutral location. Or her own home, the one she’d shared with Clement. The last time she’d been in his house was when Clement was still alive, and the couple had been frequent visitors back then.
He curled his arm around Sandra’s waist as he ushered her through the foyer and into the living room. She stiffened but made no move to distance herself from him. She was too busy looking like she was waiting for the anvil to drop from the sky on her head.
When they entered the living room, he loosened his hold and took a step away, dragging a hand raggedly through his hair. Then he turned, not sure how exactly to pose the questions burning his tongue. He only knew one way. Blunt.
“What on earth were you doing in The House tonight, Sandra?” he demanded.
She flinched at the fury in his tone and her eyes became shadowed.
“You have no idea what you’re getting into by being there,” he continued. “No idea at all. Do you have any clue what could happen to you? What Craig would have done to you? Let me tell you. He would have had you bent over while he flogged your pretty backside and then he would have hit you without mercy, uncaring of your pleasure. It would have been all about his own. He would have taken you and used you and wouldn’t have given a damn about you or your pleasure. What were you thinking?”
She wet her lips, her eyes going glossy with tears. The last thing he wanted was to make her cry when she’d made it the entire day, or at least the time she’d spent with him, without shedding a single tear.
“I do understand, Derrick,” she said quietly. “I understand far more than you think.”
His brow furrowed. “Have you been going to The House before tonight?”
She shook her head. “No. This was my first night.”
“Jesus Christ, Sandra? Do you have any idea what might have happened to you if I hadn’t been there? There is no way I’m allowing you to go back to that place. You don’t belong there.”
Her lips quivered and then she seemed to mentally shake herself. She steeled her features and leveled a firm stare at him.
“I know exactly what I was doing. You don’t understand, Derrick. You’d never understand.”
“Try me,” he challenged.
She stared at him a long moment, her eyes uncertain, almost as if she were trying to decide whether to trust him. He was on edge, because damn it, he wanted her to be able to come to him for anything. Anything at all. And he wanted her trust.
Then she closed her eyes and sank onto the couch, sitting forward, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook and it was all he could do not to go to her. Not to comfort and hold her and tell her everything would be all right. But he waited. Because whatever she had to tell him he sensed was huge. And that it would forever change the way he looked at her. At any possibility of them being together.
She lifted her head, her eyes swimming in tears. “I loved Clement with all my heart and soul. He was my soul mate. I know that. And I know I’ll never find that kind of love again.”
Derrick’s breath caught and held because that wasn’t something he wanted to hear. That she’d resigned herself to a loveless existence because she didn’t think another man would ever love her as Clement had. When in fact, he was that man. He already loved her—had loved her forever—and given the opportunity, he’d show her that she damn well could find another man who’d give her his everything.
“Clement gave me everything I could ever possibly want or ask for. Except . . .”
She broke off and looked down again, her shoulders sagging in defeat.
“Except what, Sandra?” Derrick asked softly, puzzled by her statement. He knew damn well Clement would have given her the moon. Anything that was in his power to provide her, he would have done absolutely.
“Dominance,” Sandra whispered.
Derrick’s nape prickled and a curl of . . . hope? quivered through his veins. His pulse raced and he had to calm himself and clarify that he’d heard her correctly. Because there was a whole lot he didn’t understand.
“Dominance?”
She nodded. Then she looked up at him, misery clouding her beautiful eyes. “You know how he grew up. What he endured. How he and Sophia were horribly treated. In the beginning, when we first met, we talked about my . . . need. What I thought I needed and wanted. And he wouldn’t—couldn’t—bring himself to do anything that could possibly be construed as mistreatment. He worried constantly that somehow he would inherit his father’s abusive nature, that it was somehow genetic, and he’d die before ever doing anything to hurt me. As if he would! It was why he was reluctant to have children. He wanted them. God, he wanted them and so did I. It’s my biggest regret that I didn’t have his child, a part of him to live on now that I’ve lost him. But he was so terrified that he’d abuse his own children.”
The last part came out in a sob and Derrick could no longer keep his distance. He crossed the room, sat on the couch next to her and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest as he ran his hands through her hair.
“Clement would never hurt you or his children,” Derrick said with absolute confidence.
Sandra pulled away, her tear-filled eyes gutting Derrick. “I know that. You know that. But he didn’t. And I couldn’t convince him of that. His father messed him up, Derrick. Him and Sophia both. They never recovered from all he had done to them and it affected them well into their adult life. It still affects Sophia. When I told her what I planned to do, she freaked.”
“I’d like to hear what it was you planned as well, Sandra,” Derrick prompted gently. “What was tonight all about?”
She turned away, clenching her fingers into tight fists. “I know you think I don’t have a clue what I was getting into, Derrick, but I’m not stupid. I didn’t just up and decide to go to The House. It’s something I’ve thought about and researched for months. I talked with Damon Roche a lot. He wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into and that I wasn’t making a hasty, emotional decision.”
Well, thank God for that. Damon was a solid guy. He may run an establishment that catered to every conceivable kink or fetish, but he took it very seriously and he vetted his members very carefully.
“But it’s like I told you today, Derrick. Clement is gone. He’s not coming back. And I have to pick up and move on. I can’t mourn him the rest of my life. I need . . . I want . . .”
She faltered and Derrick simply waited for her to collect her thoughts because this was huge. He was learning a side to Sandra he never suspected existed. How could he have?
“I have to know if what I think I want and need is true. I have this need inside me, Derrick. It’s an ache, a hole in my soul that’s even larger now that Clement is gone. I loved him too much to ever ask or demand that he give me something he wasn’t capable of. And it sounds like I was unhappy. God, I wasn’t! I loved him, Derrick. I loved him with all my heart and I don’t regret a single thing about our marriage.”
“I know, honey. I know,” Derrick murmured.
“But that need has always been inside me and I can’t even explain it to myself, so how can I make you understand that this isn’t a game? It isn’t me being irrational and looking to fill a void left by Clement’s death. It’s always been there. Always.”
“Try me,” Derrick said simply. “Tell me what it is you want. What you need. I’ll listen, Sandra. And I won’t judge you. I’ll just listen and we can talk about it.”
Relief shone in her eyes. Had she expected condemnation? Had she expected him to accuse her of being disloyal to Clement or his memory?
“I want to be . . . owned.” A shiver stole over her body, one he could feel even with the short space that separated them now. “I want what Ken and Karla have. I want a man to possess me, to own me. I want to submit to him and I want him to take care of me. Protect me. God, it makes me sound like some helpless, dependent twit. But that’s not it. Clement taught me to stand on my own two feet. To be independent. It’s not that I have to have this in order to survive. It’s what I want. My choice.”
Derrick put his finger over her lips to silence her. “Shhh, honey. You don’t have to defend your choices to me. I’m here to listen. Don’t defend. Just tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
His heart was about to beat out of his chest. Had fate been kind to him after all? Had a gift he’d never dreamed of receiving suddenly dropped into his lap? Had Clement known—of course he’d known. He knew of Derrick’s preferences. That he was dominant and that he desired submissiveness in a woman. Now the promise that Clement had exacted from him made so much more sense. Clement had known his wife wanted something he himself could never provide her, and he wanted to make sure that if something happened to him that Derrick would step in and give her what Clement had never been able to. God, the sheer selflessness that such a gesture entailed was mind-boggling. He’d been granting his blessing. Jesus.
“This isn’t a decision I made lightly, Derrick. I was okay with it. Until I saw you tonight. I was so mortified. And I felt guilty, because seeing you there made me feel as though I were betraying Clement. I didn’t want you to know. Karla and Sophia knew. I told them. They’re worried about me, but they also know I took all the necessary precautions before just showing up at The House tonight. And I was ready. Or at least I thought I was. But then you were there.”
Her brow suddenly furrowed as if it had just occurred to her that Derrick had been there. He could see the question in her eyes before she ever voiced it.
“What were you doing there, Derrick?”
For a moment he brushed aside her question because there were so many other more important things to discuss. It was all he could do to hold himself back. To temper the urge to brand her. To move in, take her and give her everything she said she wanted—needed.
“I need to know something from you first. I need to know how serious you are about this. I need to know if this is truly what you want and what you need and that it’s not just an experiment or you looking to fill a void.”
“I can’t be any more serious,” she said in a resolved tone that convinced him she was indeed that.
He leaned forward, his breath mingling with hers, their lips so close he could feel the warmth from the inviting bow. Just a fraction of an inch and he would be kissing her.
“I was there because that’s who and what I am, Sandra,” he said, taking in her response, watching every flicker that crossed her eyes. “It’s always been what I am. And let me tell you this right now. If this is what you want. If this is what you need. Then I’m going to be the only damn man you offer your submission to.”
She drew in her breath and held it until she was light-headed and precariously close to toppling over. His lips were so close that she could feel the harsh exhalation of his breath. She could see the determined glitter in his eyes. And for the first time, she became aware of him as something more than a friend. Her husband’s friend. Someone she’d turned to for support many times over the years.
She couldn’t even process his heated declaration, but she knew he was utterly serious. There was a glint in his eyes, a firm set to his jaw. She could see the pulse thudding at his neck and she could smell every part of him, his scent wafting tantalizingly through her nostrils.
Derrick dominant? Not that she had any difficulty in believing that of him. He was a man well accustomed to getting his way. He had a quiet authority about him. He didn’t need to be loud to get his point across. She’d been present too many times when he’d spoken and everyone had immediately quieted, listening to what he had to say.
He wasn’t someone who shouted orders. He didn’t need to. There was an intensity to him that made people aware of the power emanating from him. She hadn’t been blind to it, nor was she immune. As she’d pondered just earlier that day, in the beginning he’d intimidated her. She’d felt his concern and disapproval over how fast her relationship had progressed with Clement. But once he’d become convinced that she was the right woman for his best friend, his loyalty to her was sealed.
But his words still rang in her ears. That brusque vow. She shivered under the intensity of his gaze, those dark eyes eating her up, exposing her, making her feel vulnerable.
“I d-don’t understand,” she said helplessly, her hand lifting and then fluttering downward again as she tried to make sense of the entire evening.
And then his next words tilted her universe even further off its axis.
“I’ve waited a long damn time for you, Sandra. I thought I’d never have you, and I was okay with that because you made Clement happy and I know he made you happy. But as you said, he’s gone now, and I’ve waited. For what seems like an eternity I’ve waited for the right moment. For when you were ready. Maybe I waited too long, or perhaps now is the perfect time. But if you think I’m going to stand by and allow another man to touch what I consider mine, you’re very mistaken.”
She shook her head, overwhelmed by it all. He spoke as if he wanted her. Had wanted her for a long time. But no. That wasn’t possible. He’d never betray his best friend. Had Derrick developed feelings for her after Clement’s death? Was he simply stepping in for his best friend, wanting to take care of Clement’s widow?
She didn’t want to be an obligation to Derrick. She’d been one for far too long. Today had been about letting go. Not only of Clement but of her dependence on Derrick.
What flabbergasted her more was that Derrick was everything she’d said she wanted, if she was to believe his impassioned statement. Dominant. He liked submissive women. And he wanted to introduce her to the lifestyle. He wanted to possess—to own—her. “I don’t know what to say,” she said honestly. “I never imagined. I didn’t realize . . .” “No, I suppose you didn’t,” Derrick murmured. “It’s not something I could just come out and say. But Sandra, you’ve made the first move. Now it’s my turn to make all the others. You’ve laid out what you want. What you need. What you desire. And I’m going to be the man who gives you those things.” She stared back at him, still utterly overwhelmed by the day, the moment, this. How had so much changed so quickly? Then she shook her head in automatic denial even though a part of her, the part that had gone for so long unfulfilled, screamed at her that this was it. This was what she’d been looking for. But him? No, they were just friends. He had been h
“Look at me, Sandra. This is important.” She lifted her gaze to his, all the turmoil boiling in her gorgeous blue eyes. “I want you to take as long as you need to think about it—us. But I want you to promise me that you won’t go back to The House. Not without me. Not for any reason. Not until this is decided between you and me, and I hope that, even if you don’t choose me, that you won’t go there on your own. I don’t want to imagine you under another man’s hands. Him touching you everywhere I want to be touching you. Do this for me at least.” “You’re issuing me an ultimatum,” she said in a low voice. “You want me to promise that if I don’t choose you, I’ll deny what my heart wants. What I need. How is that fair?” “Love isn’t fair,” he said bluntly, watching the flash of surprise in her eyes, how they widened at his statement. He didn’t follow up on it. It was certainly too soon to lay that on her, on top of everything else the evening had wrought. She needed time to ponder other m
Patience, Derrick. Don’t blow this, man. Not when you’re so close. You’ve waited too long for this. He tempered his eagerness and took his time gathering the plates and bringing them to the table where Sandra sat. She just looked . . . right. In his house, wearing his clothes, still slightly rumpled from just coming from bed, even with her hair blow-dried from her shower. The only thing that would make it better is if she’d just come from his bed. Soon enough. He slid the plate in front of her, watching her eyes widen, a broad smile curving her lips. “My favorite,” she said huskily. He smiled back at her. “Of course. Did you think I’d serve you anything else? Waffles with lots of butter and even more syrup. Dig in and enjoy. I’ll bring back milk and the bacon.” She sighed. “I do love them but I can’t indulge often. Too many calories!” He shook his head as he returned again with their drinks and the plate of bacon. “There isn’t a thing wrong with the way you look, Sandra. Utter p
“Yes, that’s understandable,” Derrick said quietly. “But you don’t fear that from me, do you, Sandra?” The shock in her eyes filled him with fierce satisfaction. “No, Derrick! Never!” He kissed her again before pushing her upward from the couch. “Go and make your calls before the police get involved. If I know Karla, she was absolutely serious about calling the police. It wouldn’t surprise me if she hasn’t hauled Ken over to your house already. You call the girls. I’ll call Ken and let him know you’re okay.” Sandra leaned back on her couch with a deep sigh and flopped her head backward to stare up at the ceiling. She felt emotionally wrung out, and for the first time she couldn’t blame it on Clement’s death or the anniversary of it. It was a different kind of turmoil, one she’d never imagined when she’d bravely—or rather thought she was bravely—taking control of her future. Now that future was one huge question mark. She sighed again and closed her eyes, weariness assailing her.
Derrick gripped the back of his neck as he poured another cup of coffee and glanced at the remnants of his and Sandra’s earlier breakfast. In a kitchen that had never entertained another woman. Certainly not breakfast after a sleepover. He liked her stamp in his home and in his space. Liked the remembrance of her walking into his kitchen wearing his shirt, and those sleepy, beautiful eyes. He hadn’t wanted to let her go. Not after finally making a move to make her his. But it was the right thing to do. You had to let her go to see if she’d come back to you. He shook his head at the absurdity of his thoughts. It wasn’t like him to spout hokey psychological shit, and he wasn’t one of those who indulged in philosophical crap “like if you love someone, set them free.” He was more of a “if you love them, then never let them go” person. And yet he hadn’t kept her. He’d driven her home and had very civilly informed her that they’d be seeing one another soon. And then he’d kissed her. Not
Then he hugged her to him, holding her, savoring her touch and smell. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and closed his eyes, giving silent thanks that she hadn’t bolted. That she had enough guts to give them a chance.It was all he’d ever ask. If he could have this, he’d never ask for another single thing in his life.“Sandra, look at me, honey,” he said gently, putting enough distance between them so he could angle her head upward. So she met his gaze.“If it makes you this unhappy, then you have to know I won’t ask it of you. I only want you to be happy. For us both to be happy. Preferably with one another.”“I won’t know if you—this—will make me happy unless we try,” she said softly. She licked her lips, nervousness evident in her features. “I do want to try, Derrick. But you have to promise to be patient with me. I don’t know what to do here. I don’t know how to act or react. I’m without a guidebook. This isn’t something I ever imagined happening.”He caressed her cheek,
“I have no doubt that you’re safe. I’m not worried about getting anything from you and you have nothing to fear from me. It’s not that I want to use condoms. Hell, I’d give anything not to have to use them. But we have to consider pregnancy, Sandra. And if you prefer me to use condoms, I will, absolutely. Whatever you want.”Her cheeks bloomed with color and she averted her gaze a moment. He hated that the moment was spoiled. They were both so into it that this unwelcome intrusion was like a slap in the face, effectively stifling the mood.“I don’t want to use them either,” she said softly. “I don’t like them. Clement . . . We used them at first, when we were first together, but I’m sensitive and they made me . . . dry.”It was obvious she was embarrassed by the intimacy of their conversation. Her cheeks flamed with color and she wouldn’t meet his gaze.“I don’t want to do anything to hurt you,” he said. “I want you to be comfortable. If we have to wait, we will. I won’t use something
He broke away, his breaths coming hard, nearly panting with exertion and excitement. His dick was to the point of begging. He was so hard that it was agonizing. He wanted—needed—to be inside her. Now.He propped himself up and over her, sweat dripping from his forehead. One hand went to her forehead, pushing away her hair as he stared down at her. With his other hand, he positioned himself between her legs, lodging the head of his c**k at her opening.At the very first touch of her velvety heat, he nearly lost it on the spot. Teeth clenched, he called on every bit of his strength to hold himself back.Slowly and reverently he pushed inside her, his eyes rolling back in his head at the exquisite pleasure. She wiggled and arched, trying to draw him deeper.“Don’t,” he ground out. “I’m holding on by a very thin thread, Sandra. I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to come the minute I get deep inside you. Be very still. Let me do the work. If you move, I’m not going to make it and I