“You'll like this.”

Eva entered a small space that was fashioned to look like an exotic tent. Silken hangings of vivid, luxurious colors lined the walls, and the floor was covered with heavy oriental rugs. A hookah was displayed on a table in the corner. Pillows and throws made of silk and velvet were strewn over the floor. A rich, thronelike chair sat at one end of the room. She could easily imagine a sheikh lounging there, choosing from his harem.

“Take a seat.” He gestured to the floor, so Eva settled on one of the huge pillows. Harte sat with his back against fabric-covered wall.

“So talk to me.”

She looked at him in puzzlement. “About what?”

He rested his head against the wall. “I just tied you up and whipped you. Then I dribbled hot wax on your skin and gave you a very public anal orgasm. You crossed some major boundaries, and I need to know what's going on in your head.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Eva?”

“May I take off my boots?” He nodded his permission, and Eva untied the laces, then removed the boots with a sigh. “I've been on my feet well over twelve hours.”

Without comment, Hart moved over and began to massage her aching feet. She tried to jerk away, but he growled softly, telling her that perhaps his control wasn't as complete as she'd believed. When he pulled massage oil from his bag, she sighed with bliss. He carefully unfastened the garters and rolled down her stockings. He warmed the oil with his hands before smoothing it onto her skin.

“If anyone else in the world tried any of this with me, I'd have had their head.”

“I knew you were a dangerous woman.”

He grinned, and her heart melted just a bit. She reclined and stared at the ceiling. In the relative quiet of the little room, she could make out noises from upstairs: footsteps and muffled voices as well as music and the sound of the pipes in the walls.

“I can hear Brian's voice. I can't hear what he's saying, but I can hear him,”

she said.

He rotated her foot, stretching her hamstring.

“He's up to no good, you know. He and Patrice. I hope they don't have many followers in the pack.”

“Some. We're a bit scattered. I keep the ones like Kevin close to me. Make sure they have jobs and a chance at school. The ones like Brian and Patrice don't depend on me so much, so that makes it easier for them to rebel.”

“They all need you. A wolf pack is a social structure. They all need the approval and support of their alpha. You need them to need you.”

He smiled but didn't look up at her face. “You know an awful lot for a lone wolf.”

“You're the one who told me it was in my genetic wiring. I just think maybe you're being a little too human. Too civil.” She looked at him soberly. “You're alone at the top. That can't feel good.”

She reclined on the pillow and let the wonderful sensation of Harte's hands flow over her. She closed her eyes, picturing the club in her mind. Mentally she tracked the movements of Harte's wolves and the Abraxas hunters.

“I never realized that I could isolate so much information. The jumble of sounds and smells always overwhelmed me. Now when I remember leaving the faire tonight, I clearly recall the scents of the two men who were down here.” She wiggled her toes as he pulled at them. “I remember hearing their whispers. They were upwind of me.”

He worked quietly for a while. Finally he put the oil away and wiped down her feet with a towel from his bag.

“Not the third?”

She shook her head. She'd never gotten a bead on that one.

“I was…surprised by what you did to me tonight.”

“What part?” He was back against the wall, giving her space. She looked over at his body; it gleamed in the dim light. Suddenly she wanted to touch him, to run her hands over the sleek muscles of his chest. Once again her gaze settled on the ridge of his erection. She'd climaxed, but he hadn't. She scented his arousal. It had to be uncomfortable, but Harte seemed at peace with it.

“When I was blindfolded, I anticipated a blow, but you stroked me. The whips hurt a bit, but they were arousing.” She rolled onto her side and looked at him. “The wax was hot but not painful, yet my brain told me it burned.” She knew the term for what he'd been doing to her. They called it “mindfuck.” She'd expected pain and instead received pleasure. He'd been messing with her head. “It was scary and exciting and…”

“And…” he prompted.

“Intimate. I've never allowed anyone control me that way.”

She didn't want to talk about the climax. She didn't want to tell him that she'd never allowed a man to go down on her before. All those years living hard, sometimes days—even weeks—passed without her being able to take a shower.

She'd always associated her genitals with being unclean. Tonight he'd performed oral sex and capped it all with a finger up her ass. He was right—she'd crossed some major boundaries in the past couple of hours.

Eva sighed. How could she communicate all this to him when she barely understood her own reactions?

“Have you ever been hungry, Harte? I mean honest-to-God it's-been-days-since-you-ate hungry?”

He swallowed and shook his head. His eyes glowed, catching the dim light.

“Sometimes I ate scraps out of Dumpsters. Sometimes I begged. A lot of the time I was dirty, and the people around me were dirty. I could smell them…

Intimacy was a huge issue. Yet I hungered for touch. I still do, but old habits…” She closed her eyes.

“Eva, you coped well with everything except one punishment. I don't know that you were even aware you reacted as strongly as you did.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “The wax?”

He smiled grimly. “No, not the wax. I doubt you even remember what it was.”

He looked her over steadily. “In fact, I would say that you stayed in remarkable control this evening. And staying in control was not what I wished for you.” His eyes looked dangerous and feral. Goose bumps ran down her arms. Nervously she showed him her throat.

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm not. It just means that we aren't finished.” He smiled slowly.

Great. Just great. She was hot and horny. All she wanted right now was to lie on her back and feel his weight between her legs. She wanted his naked skin against hers. She wanted to fuck.

But he wasn't finished playing his games.

“Yes, Sir.” She rolled to her knees and assumed the position of submission, waiting for his next instruction. He left her there long enough that her knees began to ache. He rose gracefully from the floor and crossed to the chair, then sat like a king on his throne.

“Come to me.” She started to rise. “On your knees, sub.”

Her heart picked up its pace. Eva settled back onto her knees and made her way to where Harte sat waiting expectantly. He watched her curiously, as though expecting her to react with something other than obedience. She bit her tongue, marveling at her own compliance. Was this the training, or was she truly submitting to Harte?

Soon enough she was on a cushion, kneeling between his spread legs. When she dared to look up, he'd unzipped his pants. His rigid, erect phallus jutted from the fly. His waistband was still fastened.

“Lick me.”

Her gaze shot from his face back to his cock, and instinctively she licked her lips. Eva didn't like being on her knees before anyone. She didn't like being forced to subjugate her will like this. Nevertheless she shifted a bit closer and reached up to grasp him in her hand.

“No hands. Clasp them behind your back.”

She looked at him, barely disguising her frustration. She straightened her posture and linked her hands behind her back. She leaned in and tentatively ran the tip of her tongue from the base to the head of his cock.

He was uncut and long, but wide enough to fill a woman. When she ducked her head for another pass, he hooked one leg up over the arm of the chair. This close, she scented his sweat and his musk and the mouthwatering scent of his arousal.

Again she licked, swirling her tongue over the shiny head of his cock when she reached the top. She flicked her tongue into the slit, taking the salty taste of his precum. With her lips, she worked the foreskin back, nibbling the tiniest bit.

Her creativity was a mystery, as she'd only gone down on a man a couple of times in her life. Perhaps it was the command that he'd given to not use her hands.

Or maybe it was just Harte. She licked long and slow and then quick and fluttery.

He didn't make a sound. He simply looked down, watching her through hooded eyes.

Eva worked at his pants with her teeth, carefully making space for his balls to be revealed to her ministrations. Harte's first sign of frustration was when he pushed her head away, adjusted himself, and offered them up like ripe fruit. She licked and nuzzled before blowing lightly over the velvety sac. She gently worked one and then the other into her mouth, sucking lightly. He gasped.

“Enough.”

She leaned back, feeling a bit of triumph to see that sweat glistened on his torso. Eva knelt humbly between his legs, looking down at the floor, a satisfied smile on her face.


Harte glared down at her bowed head. He used his displeasure to hide his complete loss of balance. He'd been so close to the edge that he'd literally felt the climax cresting; it was ready to swamp him still. He took a moment to gather his control.

“I told you to lick my cock.”

“I did! Sir.”

She looked more than a little peeved at his displeasure. It was only a mask on his part. She'd well and truly upset his applecart. But there was punishment to be applied. She'd obeyed him to the letter, but not to the spirit of his command.

Little vixen.

“I said lick. You did a bit more than that.”

“But…” she protested in righteous indignation. He lifted a single brow. “Yes, Sir.” Her head dropped again, and her shoulders sagged just a tiny bit. “I was just trying to please you.”

“That was pleasant. Incredibly pleasant. But I didn't tell you to suck me. I told you to lick me.”

He was quite certain she got his point. She didn't like it, but she understood.

She also understood the opportunity that her disobedience had offered him. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Get up on your feet.”

She rose, looking humbled and a bit confused.

“Now lie over my lap.”

“What?”

He smiled at her outrage. He'd flogged her, caned her, pushed her into a public orgasm, and now she bristled with outrage!

“You know what I just said. Over my lap.”

She took a step back; for a moment, he thought she'd refuse. “Are you using your safe word, Eva?”

He watched as she considered it. He waited, watching the emotions flow over her open face. He'd been right earlier—spanking was her hot button.

“No, Sir.” She still didn't move, so he waited. He counted her breaths. She was gathering her courage, one deep breath at a time, stifling her outrage and humiliation. She took a step to his side and carefully lowered herself over his knees.

When she was settled, Eva's cute little bum was offered up to him like twin peaches on a plate, and he couldn't resist stroking her smooth, fine skin. The pink had faded. Even if he'd marked her with the cane, she'd have healed by now.

Alluring as she was, Harte recognized this as a critical point in their evening.

He rubbed her ass, feeling her stiffen.

Crack!

“That's one.” The skin on her arms pebbled. If she'd been in her wolf form, she'd have her hackles up.

Crack!

“Count for me.”

“T-two.” Her voice was raspy. She exuded fear, panic, and fury. He gently rubbed the pain away. Normally he'd move this up an erotic notch, but not this time. Eva's emotional state was too precarious.

“I'm going to ten. Keep counting.”

By the time he reached seven, her voice was tremulous. At ten, the tears began. She lay over his lap like a limp rag, the skin of her bottom pink and rosy.

“How many times did you swear at me?”

“I don't know.” Her voice wavered. “Four… I think four.”

“Count them.” He spanked quickly, pausing just to let her get the words out.

He leaned down and kissed the rosy skin on her bottom. He hadn't spanked her that hard, just enough to sting and bring up color. Harte gathered her in his arms and cradled her like a child.