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  Watching Sarah’s lips wrapped around her fingers made her ache. She wanted her mouth on her, sucking her, licking her; wanted her fingers pressing into the deepest parts of her. Sarah’s heavy-lidded eyes and fierce gaze rested on Jaya. Not an act. Not pretending. She wants. She needs. She wants to be the one who gives pleasure or not. Not a test. Not a show. Jaya breathed in the power flowing between them like an endless wave of energy, heavy and electric, washing over her. Sarah lowered her head and ran her tongue over Jaya’s clit. Her jeans were tight on her legs, preventing her from spreading herself for Sarah. She moaned in frustration, wanting to move but afraid Sarah would stop if she did. She dug her nails into the couch, holding tight. I’m going to come. Do I ask? Should I? And then it was too late and the spiral of sensation building in her core spun out and she came hard in Sarah’s mouth, calling her name. Treasured. Adored. Loved.

  “Ssh, no tears.” Sarah wiped away the tears pouring down Jaya’s face. When did I start crying? She let herself be held. Gentle kisses on her forehead and cheeks and soft words she didn’t hear undid her and the tears came harder. “I’m here, love.”

  Love. Jaya latched on to the word, the one she had not said, the word she’d wanted to say to Sarah so many times she had lost count. Love. She held the word tight and closed her eyes. Sarah draped her body over her like a blanket, her voice soothing, and Jaya fell asleep tangled in her jeans.

  SARAH’S FOOTSTEPS ON the hardwood warned Jaya of her approach. She stopped and covered her work with a blank sheet of paper. She hurried from her studio and closed the door behind her. Bumping into Sarah in the hall, she caught her arm to keep her from falling. Sarah spun around and threw her arms around Jaya’s neck.

  “I thought you had left me here to wander by myself.” She kissed Jaya’s cheek.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” She moved them away from her studio door. Sarah resisted.

  “What’s behind the secret door you don’t want to show me? Another woman? Your secret torture chamber?”

  “Nothing.” Jaya fiddled with her shirt buttons.

  Sarah quirked her mouth. “So many secrets. You want to know all about me, or at least say you want me to move in with you, and yet there are rooms you don’t want to show me.” She turned and walked away from Jaya.

  This is it. I’m fucking this up, again. She flushed, remembering the times her father had beaten her for her “dirty drawings.”

  “Wait.” Her hand was hot and sweaty on the doorknob. She left the door closed and followed Sarah down the hall, searching for words to soothe her. She had opened herself, let herself be taken, and given up control to Sarah. And enjoyed it. Too close. Too much. Share my body, no problem. Share my art, and I throw up walls a mile high. What the hell is wrong with me?

  She heard water running. She envisioned Sarah standing in the shower and the way she knew the water would run over her curves, imagined the exact way the water would slide over her breasts and the rivulets that would accent her legs. She opened the door to the studio and grabbed a sketch pad and a pencil. She headed down the hall.

  She tapped on the open door of the bathroom. Sarah didn’t answer. She was standing in the shower with her back to Jaya. The spray cascaded around her. She had not bothered to pull the curtain. Her hands were splayed out on the wall, and her head was bent as she let the water run down her back. Jaya leaned back on the sink and started drawing, letting her pencil find the slope of Sarah’s neck, the curve of her hip, the long line of her leg. She looked up and Sarah had turned, wiping the water from her eyes.

  “What are you doing? Taking notes?” She frowned at her.

  Jaya took a deep breath before turning the sketchpad towards Sarah. “In a way. I was going to ask your permission to sketch you, but you didn’t answer when I knocked.”

  Sarah chewed her lip. She studied the drawing. She turned back to face the wall. “Is this how I had my hands?” Her voice was soft. A peace offering.

  “The left one was a little higher.”

  Sarah moved her arm up. “I hope you have a large water heater.”

  “I’ll be quick, and when you’re finished I have something to show you.” She sketched quickly, getting the lines down. She would refine it later. The steam billowed around them. Sarah stood still, not moving, waiting for Jaya to finish.

  “I’m done now. If you want to finish your shower, find me when you’re dry.”

  She left Sarah there and went to her studio. She opened the door and left it open. She cleaned and straightened her drawing table and the clutter around her easel. She moved the finished color pencil sketch of Sarah to the easel so she could see it. Against a stark background, Sarah was bound to a Saint Andrew’s cross. Her face and the look in her eyes were the part of the work Jaya was most proud of. She had captured the submissive’s trust, affection, and lust all wrapped up in a pretty package.

  She heard a low “wow” behind her and turned to see Sarah in the doorway. Wrapped in a towel, she entered the room slowly and turned in a circle.

  Jaya stood in the center of the room, hands clasped behind her back. This is me. All the things inside my head are on display. Sarah blushed and pointed to the drawing fixed to Jaya’s easel. “It’s me.” She came to stand beside Jaya. “You did all of these?” She shifted and faced Jaya, her gaze intense.

  “Yes.” Jaya swallowed hard.

  “They’re beautiful.” She motioned to the drawings and paintings scattered around the room. “Are they all me?”

  “Most of them.” Makes me look like an obsessed psycho.

  “It’s hard to take them all in.” She pointed to the easel. “That one is from Rowan House, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. The night… Well, you remember what night.” Say it now. Jaya moved away to look out the window. You’ve pulled the scab off. Say it. Tell her. Sarah moved behind her and slipped her hands around Jaya’s waist. She rested her head on Jaya’s back.

  “This is what you didn’t want to show me? These are lovely and scandalous. So provocative.” She hugged Jaya closer. Her body was warm and comforting. “Nothing to be ashamed of, love.” Jaya turned in Sarah’s arms and kissed her, and Sarah opened to her, their kiss a slow dance of give and take.

  Sarah moved Jaya’s hand between her legs to the slickness there. “I’ve never posed before. I didn’t know it would make me so hot.”

  Jaya pressed her fingers into Sarah. The towel fell away and Jaya worked her fingers deeper into Sarah as she kissed her. The thrusts of her tongue mirrored the thrusts of her fingers. Sarah pulled back and gasped. She wrapped her hands in Jaya’s shirt, holding herself up.

  “Let me come for you.”

  Jaya’s lips twisted in a cruel smile. “Not yet.” She curled her fingers over the sweet spot she knew would send Sarah over the edge. Sarah shook. She bit her lip, fighting to hold back. A tear slipped from Sarah’s eye and she bit her lip. Jaya licked the tear from her face, savoring its salty, bitter taste and the desperation on Sarah’s face. She looked miserable and hot and so perfect.

  “Now.” And Sarah broke, wetness soaking Jaya’s hand, her cries filling the studio.

  Chapter Fourteen

  SHE HAD SPENT the night in Sarah’s apartment again after a late-night session had left them both spent.

  “You’re not safe here.” Jaya pulled her shirt on over her head.

  “We’ve been over this. It’s what I can afford.” Sarah set her mouth in a thin line, holding her back straight. Jaya stepped closer. Resting her hands on Sarah’s shoulders, she kissed the corner of her mouth.

  “You could live with me. My flat’s not far from the university.” Jaya pulled back to look in Sarah’s eyes. Sarah looked away and shrugged Jaya’s hands off her shoulders.

  “I don’t want to go over this again.” Sarah folded her arms over her chest. Jaya clenched her hands, nails digging into her palms.

  “Dammit, Sarah, you are being stubborn and unreasonable. What if I hadn’t stopped that ass
hole? He’s out of the hospital. And the stupid cow you lived with still hasn’t got all of her furniture out of here. What if he comes back? Then what?” Jaya’s voice was cold in spite of the rage building inside her.

  Sarah stepped closer, her eyes fierce. “How about I’m a grown woman and I get to decide where and who I live with? I appreciate your concern, but you don’t own me, Jaya.” Her voice broke. “No one does. Or ever will.” She looked away. “You should go now.”

  “Sarah, I…” How did we get here? How do I fix this? Jaya jammed her hands in her pockets. No one ever will? Fuck. I guess love is not enough. “I… Can we…?”

  “Now.” The hard look on Sarah’s face made Jaya step back and she raised her hands. Sarah turned away. Jaya bit back the words she wanted to scream. The threats and promises she wanted to make. She left, pulling the door closed behind her. The harsh click of the lock echoed in the hallway. She waited until she heard Sarah slip the bolt in place, the one Jaya had insisted she let her have installed after the incident with the roommate’s boyfriend.

  She crossed the floor, her steps hard on the scuffed boards. Infuriating woman. Jaya stormed down the steps as she left. She walked away from Sarah’s apartment, turning the corner to walk the long way to the train, so angry she wished a mugger would cross her path. She craved an excuse to unleash the anger simmering within. How do I convince her I don’t want a twenty-four-seven Mistress/submissive relationship? She blew out a breath. The sting of outright refusal pushed all of Jaya’s buttons. No. She told me no. No. Not ever. Jaya replayed Sarah’s words in her head; an endless loop of refusal. Sadness replaced the angry hurt welling up in her heart. She walked past the train station, not caring where she ended up.

  SHE STOOD OUTSIDE Jaya’s apartment door wearing T-strap pumps and a long trench coat. Jaya was sure from the look on her face she wore nothing underneath. The worn collar around her neck took Jaya’s breath away.

  “How?”

  “I have a good memory, Mistress.”

  Jaya groaned, remembering she had not changed the building’s security code. Deidre dropped to her knees and touched her head to Jaya’s boots. Jaya’s heart clenched. She hadn’t changed the code in the last six months, hoping Deidre would return. And now she had. Jaya rested her hand on Deidre’s head. Memories of their time together flooded her, and she wallowed in their tangled past. Not all bad. Not all good. A faded, fucked-up montage of memories raced through her mind.

  After Sarah’s harsh words, Deidre’s willingness soothed Jaya’s nerves. She’s lying and I don’t care. Jaya wanted to be in control, to cause pain, to receive it, to withhold and give pleasure as she saw fit.

  “Rise.”

  Deidre stood and touched Jaya’s face. She let her fingers trail down to Jaya’s lips. Her mascara-stained tears made black lines down her face. She kissed Jaya, her mouth open and willing. Her familiar lips and taste stirred Jaya’s desire. It had always been so simple with Deidre. It wasn’t love, but it had passed for it for a long time. Jaya crushed Deidre to her chest. Their kiss deepened and Jaya nipped Deidre’s lip, drawing blood. Deidre groaned, pressing herself against Jaya. She opened her coat. As Jaya had suspected, she was naked except for the wide leather collar around her throat. The smell of her desire enticed Jaya to touch her. Deidre opened her legs and Jaya hooked her fingers under Deidre’s collar and held her up while she fucked her with hard fingers. She pushed herself against Jaya, straining to take more of her fingers and meeting Jaya’s thrusts. Hallway or not, Deidre was going to give Jaya what she wanted. What they both wanted.

  “Come. Now.” Jaya’s voice was loud and Deidre came, giving to Jaya what she demanded. Empty fucking. Meaningless. Raw sadness enveloped her. She sighed her frustration.

  “Mistress, take me back. Please take me back.” Deidre’s eyes glittered with what Jaya knew were crocodile tears. Her breathy begging bent Jaya’s resolve. She had imagined this scene so many times. She wanted to fuck her in the hallway and then push her away, close the door in her face. To leave her as she had left Jaya so many times. But now, now she was here, and all Jaya wanted to do was go inside and have Deidre lick her until she didn’t know her own name, to ride her face until she shook the walls with her screams.

  She wanted to beat Deidre until she begged to be fucked and then she wanted to fuck her, to fuck every thought she had ever had of anyone else out of her. She wanted to hear her beg, and plead, and moan. She wanted Deidre to take all the sad, angry hurt she had inside and make it better. She hesitated. Sarah. She refused me. Twice. She’d never wear anyone’s collar, never belong to anyone.

  Deidre had belonged to Jaya once, staying with her until she found deeper pockets. The pain in her heart raged. Raw with hurt and disappointment, Jaya reached out and pinched Deidre’s nipple, twisting it between her thumb and forefinger. The sharp intake of Deidre’s breath caressed her ears. Deidre moaned the perfect moan, the moan that made her forget all the times Deidre had lied to her. Made her forget the hurt she had caused her. Made her forget everything but her own need and want and pain. Wet now and hungry for Deidre’s pain, she nodded. Releasing Deidre’s nipple, she stepped back.

  “Down.” Deidre dropped to her hands and knees. Jaya unlocked the door and walked ahead without looking back, sure Deidre would crawl after her. She went into the room they had once shared. Jaya turned and Deidre stopped crawling and rested her head on the floor. Jaya grabbed her hair and yanked her head back.

  “This is for tonight. Don’t think I am so easily satisfied.” She underlined the menace in her voice with a sharp tug of Deidre’s hair.

  “Let me try. Mistress, let me try.” So practiced. Her voice alone set Jaya on fire. She pulled harder, arching Deidre into a deep back bend, and savaged her breasts, fingers digging into soft flesh. She sucked hard and chewed her nipples. Deidre’s groans driving her, she bit hard, stopping short of breaking her skin. She would bruise, but she would not be around long enough for Jaya to see it. Jaya wanted to break her, make her wretched, to take in her pain and turn it back on her. Her breath ragged, she struggled with her control. Jaya released Deidre and stepped back. She stripped off her clothes, watching Deidre’s face. Her breath caught when Deidre licked her lips. Her lips were a swollen mess; her red lipstick smeared from Jaya’s earlier kiss.

  “Bed. On your back.” Deidre scampered to the bed, dropping the trench coat on the way but leaving her heels on. The sight of her splayed out, thighs wide and her arms over her head, with her high heels on, was exquisite. Jaya’s thighs were wet and her clit hard. She climbed over Deidre and pinned her arms with her knees. She brought her mound close, teasing Deidre. Her eyes were wide and her face languid with her desire. Jaya moved up and lowered herself to Deidre’s mouth, pressing herself to her lips.

  Deidre thrust her tongue deep, licking around and over Jaya’s clit, and Jaya ground her hips as she rocked herself on her face. Deidre licked and sucked, her tongue performing magic. She remembered what Jaya liked and, like the artist she was, she played her part, moaning on cue and struggling enough to drive Jaya’s excitement. She worked her tongue over and around and Jaya groaned, pressure building, and her core clenching. She rocked forward and raised her hips. The memory of Sarah came unbidden and she imagined Sarah’s face between her legs.

  “Fuck.” Jaya shook her head, trying to recapture the climax that slipped away from her. She tilted her hips and pushed harder into Deidre’s face. “Fuck me.”

  Deidre brought her fingers up. She slid three deep, filling Jaya’s core. Her body remembering Deidre’s touch, Jaya exploded and clenched tight as Deidre fucked her hard. Pain and pleasure blended into one, spurred on by Deidre’s expert touch. Jaya shattered, grinding herself on Deidre’s face. She bit back the name on her lips. Sarah.

  Sarah. Sarah, the woman who knew her as more than this; knew what she needed outside the bedroom. The woman who had broken her heart twice. She collapsed and shifted her weight off Deidre, closing her eyes against the moment, again
st the memories, against the truth that it was Deidre in her bed instead of Sarah.

  DEIDRE’S SOFT SNORES woke Jaya. Deidre. In my bed. She rolled away from her, unsettled by the touch of her skin. What the hell was I thinking? Deidre, who had left her when she was as broken as she had ever been. Deidre, who had brought her the greatest pain and the greatest pleasure in her life until Sarah.

  Jaya gagged. The sticky, burning taste of Deidre filled her mouth and she groaned. She clasped her hands behind her head. The money must have run out for her to be here. Jaya thought about how clean a relationship could be with Deidre, and how, if she knew from the start their relationship was based on commerce and not love, she would always have a willing submissive.

  Not love. Nothing like what I have with Sarah. Knowing Sarah did not return Jaya’s love made a simple arrangement with Deidre seem so sensible. Not love, only pleasure and pain, and the satisfaction of a comfortable relationship. Deidre knew how to push her buttons. She knew her darkest desires and willingly tolerated the few she did not enjoy herself. Sarah had enjoyed Jaya’s dark side. She would never trust Deidre. Never let herself be taken as she had with Sarah. She ached, thinking of how much she had enjoyed herself under Sarah’s touch and her tongue. The sadness of her situation set in and made her restless. A woman in my bed I don’t want and a woman in my head I can’t forget.

  Jaya slid off the bed, making an effort to not wake Deidre in her desire to avoid the inevitable talk they would have about last night, and slipped into the bathroom. She took a long, hot shower to wash away the guilt that slithered over her skin. No. Not going there. She said no to me. More than once. No reason for me to feel guilty. But fuck me, I do. She said no strings.

  Jaya scrubbed her hands together, trying to get the feel of Deidre off her fingertips. Desperate for coffee, she finished her shower and threw on her robe. She set the pot up to brew, the smell of the coffee making her want to drink straight from the carafe.