OnlyIfItPleases Read online

  “I’ve been called a heavy player a few times,” said Hart. “She’s got a way about her.”

  “Yes, but you know who you are. No woman ever changes that, and you’re not seeking validation. Walt needs it.”

  Hart nodded. His emails and his phone calls had probably made him seem needy, and if Vanessa thought he wanted her for the house, she probably interpreted them all in that light. He was too eager, perhaps, especially for a woman who wasn’t happy with her body and didn’t realize how pleasing she was. He’d learned never to tell a woman she had a “great personality” but Vanessa did. And a great body too. She was just right for him.

  “Could you do me another favor?”

  Chuck grinned. “Probably. Care to tell me what it is?”

  Chapter Ten

  “You’re distracted again, Van. Is that man still bothering you?”

  Vanessa was arranging the premade pots on the shelf. The store had a spinning wheel so that customers could do the whole thing themselves with a little guidance, but most preferred the mugs and pots that Vanessa made. Which was a shame, really, she thought. Life was more than just having nice things, it was about doing and creating yourself.

  Leah was right though. Vanessa had put the pots in the wrong order, which meant they didn’t match the signs that had the prices. She’d found on a website that Hart was doing another demo in a month. On caning. It wasn’t clear whether it was supposed to be at Kevin’s house or not. She wondered who would be his bottom for that. He hadn’t asked her. She didn’t think she could take a caning. And yet there it was. Was he planning on telling her about it or not?

  “No, Leah. I haven’t heard from him since Tuesday.”

  “And now you miss the attention.”

  “I just don’t know if he wants me for me.”

  “Darling, any man who doesn’t want you for you is an idiot. Also not worth your time. Is he an idiot?”

  “No.”

  “Speaking of idiots, any word from Wally?”

  “Walt. And yeah, I’ve gotten a number of messages from him too.” She wasn’t going to tell her that Walt had proposed a three-way with him and Carol. She’d declined quite politely, she felt, while still managing to convey that there was no way in hell. She’d declined an offer for dinner and for a quick shag Tuesday night as well. When he’d suggested that she “show him what she’d learned” over the weekend, she’d told him she was no longer interested in playing with him. He replied by saying he’d made a date with Carol. So that was that then.

  Leah ignored her correction. “I thought you and Wally were going steady.”

  “We were. We aren’t. He crossed a line.”

  Leah put her hand on Vanessa’s shoulder. “Oh honey.”

  Vanessa shook her head. “Nothing horrible like that. We’re just finished. No reason we can’t be friends.” Although she’d never had much in common with Walt other than the fact that he was a Dom and she was a sub, so she didn’t know why they’d bother. Still, she intended to be polite.

  Leah ignored her correction. “So how’d you hook up with this guy, anyway? I thought you had a hot date with Wally at the kinky club.”

  Vanessa thought about explaining the bet. Leah was pretty open-minded about a lot of things. She didn’t have any issues with people playing with toys or rope or anything like that, even if she never liked Walt one bit. Vanessa thought, however, that telling her about the bet would push Leah’s buttons. It would be hard to explain that it was all consensual, that she wasn’t giving Walt the power to sell her like property. That she wanted the weekend with Hart.

  “Wally found someone else to play with.” Now she’s got me doing it. “Hart was available.”

  Leah looked at her with raised eyebrows, took the mug out of her hand and set it on the correct shelf. “Normally, I’d say good on you for trading up and going after what you want. But it doesn’t really sound like my Van. There’s more to it.”

  Vanessa nodded. Leah was right. It took the charade of the bet to overcome her inhibition against arriving with one man and leaving with another. Even a skilled, over-the-top handsome Dom like Hart.

  “So what’s wrong with the new guy?” Leah asked. “Is he ugly?”

  “Oh man, no. He’s gorgeous. He could be a model, I think.”

  “Is he a dud in the sack?”

  Vanessa blushed, remembering his skillful fingers, his luscious tongue, his huge cock. “No. He made me—no. Best ever, by a mile.”

  “So then? Sounds like something you should take advantage of. Unless he’s a stalker. Calling you at work. Oh! Is he married?”

  Vanessa sighed. “No. I just think he wants my house rather than me. I think, you know, that he’s too good for me. He can have any woman he wants. Why would he choose me?” Her smartphone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. If there were customers in the store she would have ignored it. “E-mail. Maybe it’s him,” she said.

  “Honey, you have it bad. You don’t answer him and then you can’t wait to hear from him.”

  Vanessa just glared and punched the buttons to get into her email. “It’s from him.”

  “And what does it say?” asked Leah, not waiting for an answer but moving behind her for a better view. “Well, that’s rather forward.”

  I’ll pick you up from your house on Friday at 7 p.m. for dinner. No panties, it read. Vanessa tried to shield it from view, but she was too late.

  Leah giggled. “He wants you for at least part of you.”

  “I think he wants me for my house.”

  Leah blinked at her. “You were thinking of selling it.”

  “Yes. No. Maybe.”

  “You should move in with me. Then you’d know.”

  “I’m not selling my house just so I can be sure a man likes me!”

  “You were thinking about moving anyway,” Leah argued. “One person should not be all alone in that monstrosity.”

  That part Vanessa agreed with. Her mind drifted to a thought she’d been trying to push away. The last three nights she’d imagined Hart in her bed, hot, sweaty, holding her down and fucking her. She’d wanted to use her vibrator. He had no right to tell her what to do when he wasn’t even there. But she’d let herself drift off to sleep wet and frustrated instead. It made no sense not to answer his innocent “how are you” e-mails but obey his spoken directions. But when she remembered him saying it, she hadn’t been alone in the house. He hadn’t been a string of characters on a screen or a disembodied voice on the telephone. He’d been Hart Wolfe, strong, handsome and totally dominant. That was what she needed. Him present. In her bed. In her house, maybe even, turning the loneliness of the huge place into something far more comfortable.

  She had to be crazy to think though that Hart Wolfe was the type to pack up his things and move into his girlfriend’s house. Apparently even having her in his bed was making an exception. Seeing her for a second date was an exception. She couldn’t get ahead of herself. She had to deal with what she actually had and what she had was a second date. With no panties. Coming at the hands of Hart Wolfe again. Tasting his pleasure as it spurted down her throat.

  “Earth to Vanessa,” said Leah.

  “Sorry. You’re right. One person should not be alone in that monstrosity. I just want to know what he really wants and why.” His suggestion of parties wasn’t a bad one really. She could use help caring for the place, and putting the whole house to use might make her feel better about it. Add new memories to the ones she had of her parents and of the sister who’d disowned her and her parents alike. She was pretty sure bondage furniture and people in leather would sear in a lasting new impression.

  “So you’re going then. Sans panties.” Leah giggled.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes you do. You’re just not admitting it to yourself. Shall we go shopping after work, get you a new dress? Something with lots of cleavage maybe? Is he a breast man?”

  He seemed to appreciate her breasts, but then he seemed to li
ke all her curves. “I have no idea,” she retorted.

  Leah rolled her eyes. “Does he stare, or does he not stare?”

  “He…has a very intense gaze.”

  Leah shook her head. “You’ve got it bad when you can’t even call a stare a stare, girl.” She turned as the bell that chimed when the door open rang. “Now we’ve got customers.”

  Vanessa turned. No more thinking about Hart or sex with Hart. A young mother with three towheaded kids between the ages of six and twelve had walked into the store.

  “Can I make a pot, Mom?” asked the oldest, a boy.

  “I don’t know,” said Mom dubiously. “Maybe we should just paint the ones they have.”

  “Oh, it’s lots of fun to make your own,” said Vanessa. “We’ve got enough wheels we can get you all going.”

  The mother smiled at Vanessa. “Sounds like it might take a while.”

  “Oh, a bit, yes. Are you pressed for time?”

  The children darted for the wheels. “I’m going to make a teacup!” said the smallest, a girl.

  “I’m going to make a flying saucer,” said the oldest.

  That will be a first, thought Vanessa.

  The mother shook her head a bit wearily. “We’re not pressed for time. Is it okay if I just have a seat over here? I’ll be watching if you need me, but I don’t know a thing about pottery.”

  Vanessa suspected the woman needed a break more than she wanted the pottery. But she was happy to provide both. Leah sprang into action too, although Leah was usually the painting help and Vanessa the one who did the wheels. The three children were a handful and a half, but at the same time a total joy. Vanessa wanted kids someday—maybe not three but two certainly. She enjoyed borrowing other people’s, when they were decently behaved. These children were highly energetic, but they at least tried to follow directions and their enthusiasm was infectious. For just a while, Vanessa didn’t think about Hart Wolfe.

  They left an hour and a half later, smiling and happy, each eager to show their mom the things they had made as if she hadn’t watched them make them. Vanessa hoped their mother appreciated what a gift they were, although she understood being worn out by them too. By the way the mom smiled and praised them each in turn, Vanessa thought that they were in good hands. When I have kids, they won’t look anything like those. They’ll have browner skin and darker hair, but I hope they’ll be just as happy and full of life. Of course, they’d look a bit like their father too.

  The image of Hart Wolfe entered her mind and she didn’t push it out until it was followed by a vision of a young Hart. It was incongruous to think he’d been a child. God, a kid that bossy would be incredibly annoying. She laughed, garnering another strange look from Leah, and turned her attention to cleaning up the workspace so they’d be ready for the next customer. She didn’t want it too pristine, or they wouldn’t seem approachable and people wouldn’t want to dirty it up. An aesthetically appealing mess was the ideal. She smiled. Kinda like the whole business with Hart. A mess, but he can make me feel so good.

  * * * * *

  Hart parked on a small patch of gravel just off the dirt road that led to Vanessa’s private driveway. He was thankful there’d been no rain. He was fifteen minutes early, and he didn’t think it would take more than three or four to walk up to Vanessa’s house from where he was. He didn’t want to catch her unprepared, although he was aware that women were not always ready right on time, usually fussing with something he couldn’t care less about, like eye shadow.

  Chuck had reported back to him that Sandra said Carol said she was dating Walt. A lot of people in the scene were polyamorous and happily shared partners. It wasn’t unusual to hear even married couples talking about the dates their spouses went on. As long as everyone was being open and honest, Hart had no objection to how other people chose to structure their lives. But Vanessa did not strike him as the sharing kind. He’d done some thinking as to why she had that test in her handbag. It hadn’t been for his benefit, surely, because she hadn’t expected him. It had been for Walt. He shook his head. Walt was an idiot, but he’d missed his chance. Vanessa didn’t want to share. Not Walt, and not him. He’d done a lot of thinking over the last week because he was used to a good deal of variety in his sex life. Could he give that up? He thought he could.

  Vanessa was very much on the rebound from a relationship that she’d been thinking of taking to a higher level. That meant go slow. He didn’t want to go slow, but like orgasms, some things were savored best when one didn’t have them right away. He’d considered going without orgasms for the week, just like he’d asked Vanessa to. He’d come on a trigger if he did that, and he had fantasies of telling her to kneel then sliding into her mouth and filling her with his seed. Maybe sometime he’d do just that. But she’d not told him whether she was following directions, and he wanted to make love to her more than he wanted a blowjob. For that he wanted to be able to last until she came first, so he’d jerked himself off. That hadn’t done much to cool his enthusiasm, because the thought of her still had him hard.

  His heart pounded. He was used to doing scenes. To having kinky sex or to doing S/M without sex even. All those things were in his comfort zone. Being a Dom, being in control, sweet-talking a sub into doing what he knew would take her to a new height of ecstasy—he was good at that and he knew it. But seduction? Romance? The bouquet of flowers that had ridden shotgun felt like a pretense, as if they belonged to someone else. But he wanted to see her eyes when he handed them to her. If she was even home. But she would be. She’d sent him one response all week, and that was to his last message. All she wrote was Ok.

  He glanced at his watch and saw he still had time. If he spent it anticipating, he wouldn’t be the calm, collected person he needed to be. He glanced at some baseball scores on his smartphone, barely registering the results, until it was time to go. Then he walked up the gravel driveway—a private road, really—and arrived at her doorstep with twenty seconds to spare. If she was listening for a car approach, she wouldn’t hear it. He was dressed in a black dress shirt and black jeans, but it was still light enough that he’d be visible if she looked out a window. He kept the flowers hidden behind his back as he approached. There were lights on in the house. That was a good sign.

  He checked his watch again, watched the second hand tick to the twelve and pressed the doorbell. And waited. He thought he heard footsteps, possibly on stairs, but it was hard to be sure. The house was well built and held sound in well. But then the steps grew closer and he was sure they came from a woman in heels. He relaxed.

  The door opened and calm, cool and collected went with it.

  She was absolutely stunning. She wore a gold dress that perfectly set off her dark complexion. It bared her shoulders and the upper halves of her breasts, somehow managing to support her magnificent chest with the thinnest of shoulder straps. The dress rippled in artful folds over the curve of her belly, and then stopped in time to show off legs from just above mid-thigh. He could see the lacy tops of her nude stockings. Her shoes were a perfectly matching gold, with heels that brought her to within three or four inches of his height.

  “Expecting someone else?” Vanessa asked, sounding amused.

  He realized he was gawking. “No. Here.” He brought the flowers out from behind his back and handed them to her.

  She smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “Come in. I’ll get these in a vase.” She turned and he walked in before she could change her mind and shut the door behind him. He’d expected more of a reaction, but he was at least distracted by watching her ass sway as she walked.

  Maybe she’d rather talk than have sex. My cock is not going to be in control tonight. He waited for her to come back.

  He took the sight of her in quickly when she returned, admiring her figure from toe to face in one quick sweep. He wasn’t going to deny himself that pleasure before meeting her gaze, not when she so clearly went to the effort to dress for his approval. She did have eye shadow on too,
he noticed, the smoky tint making her eyes look that much more seductive. And lipstick, a burgundy that suited her perfectly. She’d looked good at the club and in his home, but now she looked fantastic.

  They stared at each other wordlessly for a long moment, and then she turned to put the vase down on a table in the living room.

  She resumed the staring contest, but her gaze was steadier than the rest of her. Her hands twitched. She was nervous, on edge. He smiled. He didn’t want her to be nervous around him, but sometimes a sub’s anxiety enhanced the pleasure she felt when everything turned out not only safe but orgasmic. And he knew for sure he’d keep her safe. He realized though that he hadn’t said hardly anything since he’d gotten there. She was waiting for him to take initiative as the Dom, which she had every right to expect. He moved forward, planning to start with a kiss.

  She put her hands on his chest and pushed. “I want to,” she said. “But first. I did what you asked.”

  He assumed she meant the panties. “And you look incredible.”

  “Thank you. I was getting the feeling you approved from the way your jaw dropped.” She smirked. “Let me talk—if it pleases you, Master Hart.”

  The last was a concession she didn’t have to make. If she wanted to talk, of course he was going to let her. This was the best time, before they got thoroughly involved in their respective roles.

  “Please.”

  “I refrained, as requested. I’ve been wet and frustrated for days, thinking about you, thinking about your hands on me, your cock in my mouth, your commands and your skillful tongue. I was so tempted, but I obeyed.”

  He smiled. “Good girl.” He’d been less than sure, but some instinct told him she wouldn’t lie about it.

  “I don’t know that our relationship is at the place where you have the right to make such an order, but I trusted that you were looking out for me, and would look out for me. My pleasure I leave in your hands. But I don’t want you to get the impression that I’m open for any power grab you want to make. The house is off-limits. We’re not talking about using it for play parties at all or I’m saying red. Not one word. Understood?”