Struck By Lightning: Slow Satisfaction Part 7

"Of course," he rasped, breathless already. "First things first. I should have told you my name. But my name was only one of the secrets I was keeping from you."

"Oh, you mean like the fact that you're an internationally renowned entertainment figure?"

He swallowed. "Who told you that? Paul and Misha? Mand.i.n.ka?"

I slapped him lightly across the face, but even a light slap, delivered unexpectedly, shocked him when he couldn't see it coming. He jerked inside me. "I figured it out on my own! Accusing my friends of betraying you is doing nothing to help your case, you know."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" He tipped his head back and gulped air. "Old habits die hard."

"If you're very good, maybe I'll tell you how I figured it out. Later. Continue."

"Right. You're right. I should have told you sooner. I intended to tell you-I truly did. But I wanted to wait until after the party. I wanted to... to seduce you so thoroughly, love you so well, and master you so completely, that even if you had been in league with Ferrara or anyone else trying to get to me, that you'd come over to my side."

"Do you always have to have an ulterior motive for everything?" I blurted.

"Not ulterior," he said, as I rubbed against him. "Just multiple. I figured I wanted you to fall for me as hard as I had fallen for you. That it would quell my suspicions or foil any plots was a bonus. I'm sorry I didn't trust you then, and I'm sorry I didn't trust you this summer, as well. You surprised me."

"Was it really your idea for the Tate to hire me?"

"Not exactly."

"Not exactly? That doesn't sound like raw honesty to me," I said, lifting up high enough that I was threatening to disengage entirely.

"The truth is not always simple!" He sounded desperate. "Remember that first time you met Reginald? At the Carlyle Hotel? I told him that day I thought he should consider hiring you for something. He laughed it off at the time. Then he read your dissertation. He had no budget, no intention of hiring anyone, but after reading it, he very much wanted to bring you over, so he asked me if I would fund your trip and your salary."

"He hired Tristan," I pointed out.

"Was Tristan receiving a stipend?"

"Oh. I don't know."

"I doubt he was. Or if he did, the funding came through his university. No, you were special, and Reg did not want to let you get away. So he asked for the money to fund your position, since you had been my suggestion. I said yes, if he'd do me a favor and keep an eye on you for me."

"Keep an eye on me?"

"I don't mean it in the 'spy on you' sense. I meant in the 'make sure you were all right in London' sense. I didn't know you'd be moving in with old friends of mine, too!"

"All right."

"So hiring you was my suggestion, but Reg was the one who decided to actually do it. My patronage helped it happen. But it was you, Karina, your knowledge, your skills that impressed him and made him want you there. He had no idea that I had my own agenda."

"Even when you sent a kinky playboy to f.u.c.k his submissives in the gallery in front of me?"

James swallowed. "Did Damon George-?"

"No, but he gave me the impression he might've. 'Special, after-hours donor tour,' hah. I should have known some kind of kink was involved. Which reminds me. When I got to London, Martindale showed me some photos you sent him. Was that all a sham? Or were you hiding from him, too, at that point?"

"Was that how you made the York connection?"

"Hey! I'm asking the questions here! Do you need to be punished to remember who's in charge right now?"

He clenched his teeth. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I... won't do it again. What was the question?"

"When you sent the photos to Martindale, were you hiding from him?"

"Ah. Yes. Once I had his promise to take care of you, I cut off contact with him."

"Then why send the photos at all?"

He drew a shaky breath. After a few moments, I ground against him. "Mmm, I'm starting to get close. You may be running out of time..."

"I was out of my mind, Karina. Thinking about you, dreaming about you... Terrified that under it all you were in league with Ferrara but hoping, hoping desperately that you weren't and that there would be some way to... to... connect with you. I sent him the photos under the guise of letting him know I was working on the commission, hoping maybe you'd see them, hoping maybe... I don't know. I was desperate and unsure of myself."

"I knew the second I saw them that you were thinking about me."

"Obsessed with you."

"So obsessed with me that you sent Damon to test me?"

"I admit that was one of my stupider ideas. The thought of him touching you, Karina, of him laying a finger on you..." He broke off, jaw clenched, his c.o.c.k stabbing upward inside me.

I remembered how he'd acted so very affronted to find me there at the club, how he'd stalked off, as if offended. To know that his own actions had put me there... My anger spiked again. He had stalked off not because he had been disgusted with me, but because he had been disgusted with himself. I s.h.i.+fted so that my knees were gripping his hips, the instep of my feet hooked inside his thighs. Now I could really grind my c.l.i.t against him and drive myself onto his c.o.c.k. I held on to his shoulders. "You know what I learned from Damon Georgiades?"

"What?"

"I learned that kink isn't enough. I said this in front of you and Vanette in London, but I don't know if you remember, what with how we were rudely interrupted." I was drawing close. Anger was heating me up as much as James inside me. "I don't particularly like it unless it means something. Unless I'm in love. Guess who I'm in love with, James? One hint. It isn't Damon."

He was silent. The one drawback to the blindfold was that I couldn't see his expression.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question," I said. "Do you believe me, James? If you do, say so. Who am I in love with?"

He wetted his lips again. "You're in love with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Yes G.o.ddammit, Karina, I'm sure!" His hips jerked under me, meeting my thrusts. "You wouldn't be doing all this if you weren't!"

I ground against him with each question I asked. "And who understands you?"

"You do."

"And who understands your art?"

"You, Karina, you."

"Mmm, I think I'm getting used to this call and response thing we have going on here, James. You know that every time I give you my body, I give you a piece of my heart, right?"

"Yes."

"I think it's only fair if you give me a piece of yourself in return. Doesn't that sound like a good idea?"

"Yes, yes."

"A piece of information, a piece of your past. That's a fair exchange rate, don't you think?"

"Definitely! I want to hide nothing from you."

"Good. That'll do for now," I said. "Now hush and hold still while I make myself come."

I didn't make it easy for him to hold back. I ran my hands down his chest and toyed with his nipples, feeling his c.o.c.k twitch hungrily inside me when I did. I half wondered what I'd do if he failed to keep from coming until told. The other half wondered what wicked things he would do to me to make me pay for this. Holding back for that long against the steady onslaught of my p.u.s.s.y couldn't have been easy, either. I was very close myself, soaring along on a high, tense peak before I finally broke through.

I screamed when I did, my hands clenching his shoulders, knocking him backward onto the bed, thrusting my pelvis against him again and again, suddenly close to a second o.r.g.a.s.m and hungrily seeking it with desperate cries and spasms. The second explosion followed the first, hot and bright, making me see colors behind my eyelids before my tension subsided. I went limp atop him, the dual sound of both our harsh breathing making a fading rhythm.

Five.

Mother Said Get Things Done I was a little surprised James hadn't done any of the things I thought he would. He didn't try to dom me into listening, he hadn't hidden anything, and he hadn't guarded himself in the slightest.

It was as if he knew what it was going to take to get me back. I was amazed at the thought that he knew me that well and that he could go against his own fears and instincts to convince me of it. Amazed and appreciative. Maybe this was going to work.

"Karina," he whispered.

"Yes, James."

"My arm is somewhat wrenched under me."

"Oh. Sorry." I lifted my head, but it took me a moment to reconnect feeling to all my limbs and control them. I eased myself off, then helped him roll to his side. I pushed the blindfold off his head before untwisting the cloth that had been binding his wrists together, and he brought his arm forward with a groan.

"Are you all right?" I worried I'd actually hurt him.

"Fine." He wiggled his fingers. "I'll be fine." He turned over to face me. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

His eyes were serious, even as his face and body were relaxed and languid post-o.r.g.a.s.m. "Did I convince you to give me another chance?"

"You at least earned the ability to tell me even more of what I don't know."

He took my hand in his, like he had so many times before. This time he kissed my fingertips, his eyes closing as he did. "I have a lot to tell you. More than any single interrogation might reveal."

I squeezed his hand. "Speaking of interrogation, this was nice, and I understand why you did it. But I shouldn't have to interrogate you for the answers."

He sucked in a breath. "No. Of course you shouldn't. There's so much I need to tell you if you're really going to get to know me." He reached up and traced the curve of my cheek with his fingertip. "Yet I feel like you know me better than anyone."

"I do know you," I said. "I just don't know the facts about you."

His gaze s.h.i.+ed away from mine. "Many of the facts are sordid."

"Says the man who put a six-inch d.i.l.d.o into me and walked me around the Metropolitan Museum of Art."

"I mean much more sordid than that." Now his face had completely clouded over.

"I want to know, James. I need to know. I have a right to, if we're going to be together."

He nodded, though his eyes were closed. "I know. I agree. That still doesn't make it easy for me to open up."

I raised an eyebrow. "Except during s.e.x."

"As you well know. Were you serious about what you said before? I would sincerely give you a piece of my past for every time you give me..." He kissed my fingertips again. "Anything. s.e.x. Your body. Your submission."

Even though we'd just had s.e.x, I felt a thrill go through my loins. "I wasn't suggesting it lightly."

"I want to be sure. Sometimes we say things in the heat of pa.s.sion that seem less than wise afterward."

"But sometimes we get inspired." This could be the perfect solution, I realized. "I know the time you're the most open is when we have s.e.x. That's the time your answers will be the best. Of course, if we do this, I could still revoke my forgiveness at any time."

"Of course. Just as you can revoke your consent at any time. I understand, Karina. It's One Thousand and One Nights, only this time I'm Scheherazade, telling the stories."

I touched his face with my fingers, feeling like a weight was slowly lifting from my back. Maybe we were going to make this work after all. The fact that he was willing to try so hard made a huge difference in how I felt. And I wanted him. The part of me that had been needing him and pining for him all summer was quelled by the knowledge we could do this.

I sat up and discovered I'd been lying on something. I held up what he had used to bind his wrists. In the dim light I could still recognize what it was. "These look a lot like a pair of panties I used to have."

"That's because they are."

"You've been carrying around my underwear?" I turned to look at him.

Lying beside me on the pillow, he wore a familiar expression: serene and a bit bemused. "You left them in the car. Did you think I'd throw them away?"

"I never really thought about it before."

"If I left a pair of my underwear behind with you, what would you do?"

"Yeah, I see your point. I've got a handkerchief of yours I keep in the-"

His expression changed suddenly, his eyes widening and his lips parting in slight surprise. "That's it, isn't it?"

I felt myself blush even though I wasn't keeping anything a secret. "Um, partly anyway. My roommate-"

"I know. I met her at the spa that day. Becky. She knew the Lord's Ladies."

"Yeah. And she got one of the handkerchiefs you threw from the stage at Madison Square Garden. It matched one I got from you." Well, from Stefan, strictly speaking.