Raw

I saw their mouths moving, but I couldn't hear anything. I blinked. And then suddenly, Malcolm was rushing toward me, his words filling my head.

"Becca! Are you okay?" His hands were on my shoulders, his eyes on mine.

My gaze darted over his shoulder to see Jesse just standing there, a slight smirk on his face. Or maybe I had imagined it because he was beside Malcolm a second later, asking me the same question.

I blinked again and shook my head. "Sorry. You just startled me."

"Go upstairs and change," Malcolm said. "We'll clean up the mess."

I stared at him. What? I wasn't presentable like this? I hadn't realized I always needed to be pulled together whenever someone else was in the house. I opened my mouth to say I was just fine, but he interrupted me before I could get the words out.

"Your feet are wet." His warm breath caressed my ear, the words barely a whisper.

I managed to nod. Then my brain kicked into gear. I took his hand as he helped me step out of the ceramic shards that now decorated the tile floor amidst a pool of light brown liquid. He held onto me as I dislodged my feet from the sopping material that encased them.

Upstairs, I acquired a dry pair of socks. And I had the sense enough to pull on a bra, change into jeans, and comb my hair before I returned to our surprise guest. My composure gathered, I took a deep breath and descended down into the lions' den.

I found the men literally in the den. Jesse sat on one of the leather couches with Malcolm on the other. I stood in the doorway until they both looked up, acknowledging my presence. "My apologies for the mess."

"Not necessary. It was an accident." Jesse's smile seemed to be forced. But I had a feeling that was how he always smiled. He gestured to the empty seat opposite him.

I raised an eyebrow and sat with one foot under me on the couch right next to Malcolm who put his arm around my shoulders. Jesse's eyes narrowed marginally. He had no authority in this house. My house. I could sit wherever I damn well pleased. And he didn't have to like it. But I wasn't a snob.

"Thank you for giving up your tickets to the convention, Jesse."

"You are very welcome, Lady Becca."

My shoulders stiffened. Malcom's hand squeezed gently. I relaxed, but only slightly. I had forgotten Jesse's insistence on using titles regardless of being in a scene or not. Apparently, Malcolm was familiar with the habit.

"Sir Malcolm told me about your experience. I understand you enjoyed it, thoroughly?"

"Very much so. It was quite interesting. Especially the demos."

"I was just telling him about your opportunity," Malcolm said. "He thinks it's something you'd be able get in on at more conventions. Book vendors are becoming more popular. Especially erotic fiction ones."

I managed a heartfelt smile at our guest. "Really?"

"I believe your weekend in Canada is proof enough. And that was only after what? A single day?"

Malcolm nodded. "Jesse has given me the contact information for the organizers of the bondage convention. While most are up over the border, they also sponsor events for other areas of BDSM, and some of the gatherings here in the states."

"Some are overseas, as well," Jesse added.

"If you're interested, Becca, we'll look into it."

"I'd have to check with Sue," I said, thinking about traveling to Europe to sell my books. When I saw Jesse's eyebrows arch in question, I added, "She's my agent. I'm sure we can work something out. It's just a technicality."

Jesse nodded. "Tell me, what was your favorite—"

The doorbell rang, and I hopped to my feet. "Please excuse me, gentlemen."

I let out a huge sigh of relief as I left the den. I wondered if it would be rude to hide away in my office for the rest of the day. My stomach grumbled, and I remembered I hadn't eaten my breakfast. I opened the front door and had to grab onto the edge of the door to stay upright.

What had I done to deserve this?

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Reebeeca," Juliet said, her teeth blindingly white behind blood-red lips as they parted in a smile. Her blonde hair was coiffed around the fur collar of her fitted winter coat, and knee-high, leather boots encased her feet. Boots that were also sunk into at least two inches of snow.

I glanced behind her. It was snowing more. Joy. "Hello, Juliet."

"Je suis ici pour voir Yehzee."

"I'm sorry?"

"Désolé. Yehzee? He eez here?"

I had not missed the French vampire. And I still thought she sounded hilarious. But my momentary anger at the sudden intrusion overpowered any desire to laugh. "Yes, Jesse is here."

"Becca, who's at the d—"

My hand fell to my side as Malcolm stopped behind me and opened the door fully. I felt his heavy exhale against my neck. I wish I could see his face.

"Juliet? What? How?"

"Bonjour, mon chéri!" She put out both hands and held Malcolm's head as she gave him a kiss on each cheek before she stepped past us into the house.

"Juliet?" He said again. "What are you —"

"Ah, Juliet. So glad you could join us," Jesse said as he entered from the hallway. "Did you have any trouble finding the house?"

"Non, Monsieur."

"Good. Good."

"La météo est terrible."

"English, please, in front of our guests."

I opened my mouth to correct him that it was the other way around and that they were our guests—uninvited, in fact—but Juliet spoke first.

"Zee, weather. Eet eez geeting terriblay."

Malcolm's hand pressed against my shoulder, and I had enough sense to step out of the way. He closed the door. We both turned to see Jesse helping Juliet from her coat. Then Jesse kissed her fully on the lips. I swear I heard a groan from Malcolm who was behind me again.

I don't what happened next. One minute, the four of us were standing in the living room, two of us in shock. The next, I was standing alone, hearing the door to the den close. I marched across the room, intent on bursting in on them. But as I approached, Jesse stepped out of the shadows like a bouncer guarding a club's entrance.

I put my hands on my hips. "What the hell is going on?"

"Lady Becca," Jesse said, his hand on my wrist. "Please, do not disturb them."

I tried to wrench my arm away, but his grip tightened. I gritted my teeth. "Let go of me right now, or so help me God..."

He complied, but he did not step away from the door.

"I'm going to say this once and only once. This is my fucking house. You are Malcolm's guest, not the other way around. And if I'd had any say, I wouldn't have let you in the front door after that little stunt you pulled at your party last year."

"I have missed your hot temper. You are so beautiful. Malcolm is a lucky man to have found such a submissive as you." Jesse raised his hand, his fingers curled, as if he were about to stroke my cheek.

I swatted his hand away. "Don't touch me."

"Come, let us be civil. We are both adults. Let the long-lost lovers talk."

I retreated from the hallway, unwilling to turn my back on Jesse lest he try something. He followed, and we settled at the counter in the kitchen. This time, I staked my claim standing, and he sat at the island. The rightful position for me at least. My house. My rules.

When he asked, I managed to make him a drink. Then we sat in awkward silence for several minutes.

"Malcolm has shown me his dungeon. It would be my honor to escort you there for a private session where we can work on honing your submissive qualities. Free of charge."

There were no words to describe the incredulity burning through me. What audacity he had to assume I'd want to be alone with him ever again! I threw up my hands in disgust and disappeared to my office. Once alone—with the door locked—I let the first tear fall. Then another, and another. I curled up on the oversized chair, pulled a blanket over me, and sobbed.

Just when everything had been going so well, this had to happen. My stomach was in knots, wondering what they were saying behind closed doors. I did not trust that Juliet bitch at all. Yet, I had to rely on my trust in Malcolm to know that nothing would happen between them. That our bond was stronger, and our relationship was not at any risk.

I must have fallen asleep, because I woke to Malcolm sitting beside me, my head in his lap and his hand rubbing my back.

"Hey." I smiled weakly as I sat up. I glanced at the door. He hadn't argued when I'd requested changing the handle so it could lock with a key. But he had insisted on a spare for emergencies. I guess he thought today's circumstances validated using his key.

"Hey, yourself," he said, kissing me. He pulled me into an embrace. "I know you're going to object, but please hear me out."

My eyes lowered to his lap, and I played with a loose string on his jeans. "You want them to stay for dinner. Probably overnight."

He tilted my chin up. "They were down in Springfield and were on the way back to Chicago. He was just stopping for a short visit before they flew back to Europe. I wouldn't ask, but their flight isn't until tomorrow night, and it's getting late. With the weather, it's safer to wait until daylight. They will have cleared the roads by then. They can stay in the guest room or even downstairs in one of the private play rooms that has a bed."

"Fine, I don't care." I cuddled up against his chest. I closed my eyes when his hand stroked my hair. But it did little to settle the disquiet I felt. I knew it wouldn't be gone until they were.

Somehow, I made it through dinner. I retired early, but I lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkness wondering what they were all talking about downstairs. Were they speaking in French? Laughing as they reminisced on old times? Times when I wasn't even a blip in Malcolm's thoughts.

###

It was snowing lightly Monday morning, and Malcolm had to go to work. When I got up for breakfast with him, our guests were not around. I prayed that they had departed early.

Malcolm revealed, though, that they had opted to stay down in the basement for the night and had not emerged yet. Thankfully, the soundproofed basement meant I didn't have to hear them. Now I just had to stop myself from imagining what they were doing.

With a promise that they would be leaving later this morning, I kissed my fiancé goodbye and settled in to work on some editing revisions Sue had sent me.

It was around noon when someone knocked on my door.

"Lady Becca?" Jesse's head popped into the room after I called to come in.

I cursed myself for having not locked the door and faked a smile. "What can I do for you, Jesse?"

He entered the room fully. "I have been in contact with Malcolm. The school is closing early due to the weather. He was going to stop on the way home and get some groceries as well as lunch for us all."

I glanced at my phone. It had not rung, and when I pressed the home button, it showed no missed texts.

As if reading my unspoken question of how he knew this information, Jesse said, "I messaged him when I was notified that our flight has been cancelled. I do not want to be a burden—"

"You are welcome to stay another night." I don't know how I said the words without gritting my teeth...or throwing up.

"Thank you, Lady Becca. I will leave you be."

As soon as the door closed, I stuck my tongue out at him. Then I started a text to Malcolm, berating him for not telling me first that he was coming home early. But as soon as the words were on the screen, I deleted them and set the phone aside. It was safer not to text him if he was driving. I could express my thoughts later in person. And I most definitely intended to tell him my thoughts on this entire extended weekend.

But an hour later, I'd forgotten about my anger as I paced the kitchen with worry. Neither Jesse nor I had received a call or text from Malcolm. When the back door finally opened, I fell to my knees, crying.

Malcolm set several plastic bags down and knelt beside me. He wrapped me in a cold embrace. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Where have you been?" I kissed his equally cold cheeks. His hair was damp as my fingers buried in it. "I thought something had happened."

"I'm sorry. The grocery store is a madhouse. It hasn't stopped snowing since this morning. They're calling for almost two feet tonight."

I dried my eyes and jumped into my role as hostess making sandwiches and soup while he put the rest of the food away. I knew Jesse and Juliet were sitting in the living room, and I tried to ignore them. But it was hard when you heard two people speaking in a foreign language. I had to remind myself that as eloquent as the language sounded, they were the enemy...and could very well be talking about me.

The meal consisted of idle chitchat that centered on the weather. Malcolm invited our guests to join us for a movie in the den, but they thankfully elected to retreat to the basement for the afternoon. It was nice having some alone time to cuddle. More than once, I started to ask what they had discussed the night before, but I clamped my mouth shut and decided to put it behind me.

After dinner that evening, the couples parted to our separate areas of the house again for the night. For not having done much today myself, I was thoroughly exhausted. We had barely spoken to each other during the day despite having the afternoon alone. I fell asleep almost as soon I crawled under the piles of warm blankets.

The next morning, Malcolm got a call that they had cancelled school due to blizzard conditions. All I could think about was that if buses couldn't get to school, our unwanted guests probably couldn't get back to Chicago. I resolved that I was going to stay in bed today. I couldn't face them again, pretending I was okay with this arrangement, as temporary as it was. I waited for Malcolm to end his call before telling him my decision. But he spoke first.

"I have been neglecting you," he said as he set his phone on the nightstand and rolled back to face me. "I aim to rectify that."

I smiled softly, glad for the chance to change my train of thought. But I shrieked as he threw back the covers, exposing my body to the coolness of the room. Once more, I was distracted as I took in his naked body, anticipating him coming to me. Instead, he got up.

My disappointment turned to intrigue, though, as he went to the dresser. My fingers twitched as I stared at his ass. God, he was so fucking sexy it hurt sometimes.

He turned around to face me, a length of rope in his hands. "Sit up with your back to the headboard, Lady Becca."

I quickly scooted up the mattress, my breath quickening.

Malcolm laid out the rope, found the middle, and looped it around the back of my neck. He laced it down under each armpit, crossed it behind my back, and brought it up under each thigh so that it was snug against either side of my pussy. Then he proceeded to tie the rope around my midsection with a series of knots in front until he reached my breasts. He circled the latter with the rope, and I sucked in my breath at the sudden tightness.

He held my left arm up against the headboard and laced one end of the rope through the rails as he wrapped it around my appendage. He tied it off at the wrist, leaving my hand dangling and my fingers unable to reach to untie the knots. Then he secured my right arm in the same fashion as he had done with my left.

I wiggled a little and realized that not only had he attached my arms to the headboard, but he had also done so to my torso. Very interesting.

He placed a pillow behind my neck, and I smiled up at him. He ran his fingers down my cheek. His thumb grazed over my lips, which were dry from panting. He paused until my tongue darted out, touching his digit, and he let me suck on it a moment.

When he pulled his hand away, I expected him to lean down and kiss me. I tilted my head up, my eyes still on his. To my dismay, his mouth didn't move any closer to mine.

I gasped when I felt his hands sliding down my thighs to my knees, bending my legs.

"Stay put."

Where was I going to go? Then I realized he meant not to close my legs.

He returned to the dresser, this time bringing back the fur-lined leather cuffs we'd purchased at the convention as well as a length of chain. He secured the first to each of my ankles. Then with my knees positioned almost touching my elbows, he attached one end of the chain to one cuff. The other end went behind me through the rails of the headboard and attached to the other cuff. The process left me feeling a bit like an erotic totem pole.

The pièce de résistance was when he retrieved the nipple clamps. I hissed as he applied them, my back arching from the sharpness of the rubber-tipped metal prongs compressing the sensitive skin. Then I shivered as the drooping chain connecting them swayed and lightly brushed my skin as I breathed.

"You have no idea how vulnerable you look. So absolutely hot and sexy," Malcolm said, his voice gruff. "For the record, a ball gag would be perfect to complete the effect."

I opened my mouth to object but closed it when he raised his hand. I told myself to calm down. I knew he would never do anything against my wishes again since the fiasco at my brother's collaring ceremony.

"It was just a thought. Maybe someday."

Not if I had any say. I pressed my lips tighter together, feeling my arousal slip away.

He pulled the sheet and comforter back towards the foot of the bed where he folded them in on themselves. I had tried to keep my eyes on his cock when I could. Since he had first gotten out of bed, it had gone from slapping against his thigh in its flaccid state to slightly bouncing now. The bondage process aroused him. Which reignited my own arousal. I was wondering what the end result of this was as he placed the rest of the pillows on top of the folded bed linens and sat Indian-style on the mattress, his back against the pile he'd created.

"Do not speak, Lady Becca," he said, taking his cock in his hand.

I licked my lips, pressing them together as my eyes watched his large fingers wrap around his specimen that continued to swell. Already, the head glistened with precum. It would not be long until he was completely erect. I so wanted to help him reach his full potential.

"And do not come until I say so."

Oh, shit.

"Look at me. Nod if you understand the rules."

I gulped and nodded slowly as I raised my eyes up his chest and settled on his gaze.

"Very good. Now breathe deep and relax."

I obeyed. At least with the breathing part. But even that became harder because my eyes dropped back down to where his hand was slowly stroking his cock.

Over the next several minutes, I studied how his wrist twisted in as he got to the head. How the palm of his hand would graze over the tip before he stroked down again. And sometimes, he would pause and just circle his thumb and forefinger around the crown in quick strokes. His other hand rested in his lap, sometimes fondling or stroking his balls.

I licked my lips again. I thought of my tongue going over all of those inches where his hand was. Where his fingers were. I usually closed my eyes to immerse myself when I was worshipping his cock. Malcolm sometimes asked me to keep my eyes on him. I knew he thought it made me look sexy. I kind of felt as if I was a slutty actress in a porno, but I still did it to please him.

The muscles deep within me clenched suddenly. I went to move my hand between my legs for a little respite. Then I remembered that I couldn't touch anything. I laid my head back, thankful for the pillow.

My eyes closed and then opened to stare at the ceiling while I struggled to swallow. Then I was watching him again. Trying not to focus directly on his cock. Instead, I traced each muscle of his arms and legs with my eyes. Studied the shadow on his jawline. Caught how dark his eyes were as they watched me.