of something earthy in the air, and the warmth of his body next to mine. Soon, I could sense my muscles starting to unwind a bit and my mind easing.
A few minute later, footsteps sounded to my right, and I knew we were alone no longer. Foster shifted and left my side. There was a rustling sound and low-spoken words. I kept breathing. Mostly. I’d learned in the class that submitting could almost be a meditative state, like reaching some other plane, and I wanted to get there. Foster had brought me there before—the place where nothing mattered but the two of us and what we were doing, where time seemed to slow and inhibitions fell away. That was a happy, happy place.
When fingers touched my elbow again, I jumped. “It’s okay, angel. I’m going to lead you a few more steps. I promise I won’t let you fall or hurt yourself.”
I let Foster guide me, the smooth stones cool beneath my feet, then he was turning me. On the next step, my feet pressed into something soft. I bit my lip, my mind trying to scan through where I could possibly be. Out front there was only stone and then a paved parking lot. But I didn’t dare ask the question.
“Cela,” Foster said from somewhere behind me. “I’m going to take off your dress.”
Panic lodged in my throat, swelling. “Foster.”
But his fingers were already on my zipper. “Shh, just listen to me. You are beautiful, and it pleases me to see you bared for me like this. You have nothing to fear or be ashamed of.”
My fists curled but I forced myself to breathe through the panic. Trust. Trust. Trust. God, I’d never thought it would be this hard to put that faith in him. But my mind had me standing in front of a well-known restaurant. I’d only been semi-naked in front of four guys in my life, counting Foster and Pike. And now here I was, with God knows who looking on, being stripped down to my barely there bra and panties. My heart was making a valiant attempt to break through the prison of my rib cage and leave me behind.
Foster brought my dress down my hips, then helped me stepped out of it. The night air, though warm, instantly raised goose bumps in my skin. “Foster, I’m kind of freaking out.”
His palms glided over my upper arms and his body pressed against my back. Already I could feel the stirring of his own arousal. “Take a breath, angel. Do it with me. In. Out.”
I forced myself to follow his instructions, bringing oxygen into my lungs.
“I’ve got you, okay?” he said, his voice quiet and reassuring. “Now lift your arms for me.”
Though I was still on the verge of panic, I lifted them. Hands took my wrists. Hands. Oh, shit. Kade was still here. And from what I could tell, he was helping Foster wrap something around my wrists—rope if I had to guess by the slightly abrasive feel of it. The heat of a full-body blush started in my cheeks and rolled downward like a crimson tide. They stretched my arms out above me at an angle and secured them on opposite sides. Before I could even process that, the same material was being wrapped around my ankles.
Foster ran a palm along my calf. I assumed it was him. I couldn’t imagine Kade taking such liberties, but I couldn’t be sure. “Spread your legs a little wider, angel.”
It was Foster. A little sag of relief went through me, and I adjusted my stance. They secured my ankles, leaving me completely at their mercy by the end of it. I flexed my fingers, trying to maintain some sense of calm, but was failing miserably. I probably could’ve provided electricity to half the homes in the Metroplex with the amount of nervous energy racing through my veins.
“Comfortable, Cela?”
“Oh, yeah, totally. I hang out like this all the time.” The quip was past my lips before I remembered my role here. I locked my mouth shut, prepared for a hand to land on my ass at any second, but instead I was met with chuckles from them both.
“I meant,” Foster said patiently, “does anything feel too tight or uncomfortable?”
“No, sir. Sorry.”
“I didn’t take you for the kind who likes a brat,” Kade observed, though there was humor in his tone.
A brat? I huffed, affronted. “Excuse me, but—”
That’s when a hand smacked the back of my thigh, drawing a yelp from me. “Calm down, sweetness.”
I turned my head in the direction of Foster’s voice, hoping he could sense my oh-no-you-didn’t glare.
“She’s not a brat,” Foster said to Kade. “She’s just brand new. And feisty. But …” The volume of his voice increased as he apparently directed his words my way. “If she keeps up trying to glare at me like that, I may have to demonstrate why bratting isn’t going to work out well for her. Care to add an additional punishment to your docket tonight, angel?”
I jutted my chin forward but turned my head away. I was opinionated but not stupid. Don’t provoke the guy who has you tied up. That was probably a good rule to add to my arsenal. “No, sir.”
“Good. Now I want you to count down from one hundred aloud. Slowly. When you get to one, I want you totally focused and ready for whatever I ask of you. Do you understand?”
“Where are you going?” I asked, stiffening at the thought of being left here.
“Do you understand?” he repeated, impatience creeping into his tone.
“Yes, sir,” I said, trying to swallow down my smart remarks and questions.
“Count.”
I took a deep breath. “One hundred … ninety-nine … ninety-eight …”
He unsnapped the hook of my strapless bra, and the bra fell away, my nipples beading from the exposure. Oh, crap, oh crap, oh crap. I was naked—outdoors. I stumbled in my count.
The air shifted in front of me, and he gave both nipples a swift pinch. I arched my back from the shock of it, gasping
“Start your count again,” he said, a quiet but foreboding demand. “Anytime you miss a number or pause too long, you’ll need to begin again.”
I nodded, my body going hot from the pinch and my brain trying not to short-circuit. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night. “One hundred …”
“Ninety-nine,” I said, my voice trembling a bit as I continued counting.
Foster palmed my breasts, brushing his thumbs over the now-throbbing buds, and I moaned without wanting to. Even with the anxiety of not knowing where I was or if Kade was still there or if anyone else could see, I couldn’t help but respond to Foster’s touch. I tried to stay focused on saying the numbers, but that was getting harder with each caress.
Foster’s fingertips coasted along the sides of my breasts, then down along my belly and hips, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he reached the triangle of satin and lace covering my mound, every muscle in my body tightened, anticipating the feel of him. He drew a single finger along the front of the satin, sliding telltale moisture along my cleft, then pressed against my clit.
I
