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  Her eyes were sad as she met his gaze, and his heart squeezed a little at the flash of hurt he saw when he compared her to her nemesis. "You're doing it again, Gregori," she scolded gently. "I'm not your lover. I'm not even your friend." She gave a soft sigh. "I don't have relationships with my subs. I've told you this until I'm sick of the words myself." She rose and returned the crop and flogger to their places in the cabinet, then moved to stand in front of him. She cupped his face in her hands and looked almost tenderly into his eyes.

  "I gave you what you asked for. I have nothing else to give you."

  "You're wrong, Megan. We have so much to give each other." He couldn't believe she felt nothing, not when he was feeling so much.

  "Believe me, Gregori, when I say I will not take a submissive as a lover. It won't work for me, and I will not do it. I can be your Domme or your lover. I won't be both." She let her hands drop to her sides. "This conversation is over." Without another word she turned her back on him, leaving him raw and aching.

  Chapter Seven

  Megan's legs shook as she made her way to the bar. She thought she should feel some sort of triumph. After all, she'd Dommed him. She'd fucking Mastered his fine ass, and kept her composure the whole time, proving once and for all that for her, D/s wasn't about the sex.

  The throbbing between her thighs said she was a liar.

  Janie was still at the bar. Somehow that surprised Megan. It seemed like she'd been with Gregori for hours; certainly long enough for the bartender's shift to have ended. She remembered why the petite brunette was her favorite bartender when Janie took one look at her and slapped down a double shot of Jack, neat, in front of her.

  Megan was horrified to see her hands were shaking as she picked up the glass, and she quickly downed the shot, breathing deep through the burn, hoping it would give her at least the illusion of being steady.

  "Girlfriend," the bartender mused as she poured a refill, "you do not look like a Domme who's just had a successful scene."

  Megan sipped this drink more slowly, feeling the liquor start a warm glow in her belly that almost was enough to make her forget the void yawning empty there.

  "Oh, no, darlin'. It was very successful." She couldn't help casting her gaze toward the private rooms, wondering how long she had before Gregori made his way back to the public areas. Shaking her head in self-disgust she muttered, "Maybe it was too successful."

  Janie shook her head in commiseration. "Is our fiery Russian melting that hard-candy and spun-sugar facade you wear so well?"

  Megan shot her a sharp glance. "What are you talking about, Janie-belle?"

  "I'm talking about the fact that it's common knowledge that you come here to play, but you're the club ice princess." The other woman moved to fill a drink order for a portly man in deep blue leather, but she gave Megan an amused look over her shoulder and added, "And there's no 'Belle' in my name, princess."

  "I thought that title went to our Mistress Anne," Megan pressed once Janie had returned to her area of the bar.

  "Oh, no," Janie laughed. "Anne's the Snow Queen, like in Narnia. You might frost your subs, but she puts them in deep freeze."

  "So," Megan began hesitantly, "everyone here thinks I'm cold?" The bartender's comments came too close on the heels of Gregori's accusations for comfort.

  Janie looked mildly remorseful as she clearly picked up on Megan's agitation.

  "Not cold, exactly," she mused. "More like emotionally unavailable. It's clear you're here for one thing only, and it doesn't really matter who gives it to you."

  "Is that so wrong?" Megan demanded. Dammit, she came to Velvet Ice to scratch an itch that couldn't be scratched anywhere else. She was allowed to be emotionally unavailable. Heck that was the whole point of her membership. She didn't do emotional involvement, not with her subs, and not with anyone in longer than she cared to remember.

  "Not at all," Janie assured her. "There are plenty of subs who come here for the exact same thing." She gave Megan a level look. "Just not our Gregori. He's looking for a soul mate. For the Mistress who can command his heart just as easily as she commands his body."

  "I told him he wouldn't get that from me," Megan replied, hating the defensive tone in her voice. "He only sees what he wants to see."

  "Maybe he sees more clearly than you do," the other woman said softly.

  Megan shook her head sadly. "After tonight he should definitely be seeing more clearly than he was before."

  * * * *

  Megan sat in bed, her fluffy down comforter wrapped snugly around her. A pint of Starbucks Caramel Macchiato ice-cream nested in her lap and she found herself glaring at it morosely. The creamy golden hue of the frozen treat was a little too similar to the creamy golden hue of Gregori's skin. And, unfortunately, Megan knew she'd much rather be licking the big Russian than her spoon.

  She had slipped over the edge and blurred the lines she'd drawn so strictly between being a Domme and her emotions. She might not admit it to anyone else, but she had to be honest with herself. She was involved with Gregori. She wanted more than to whip his very gorgeous body and see his eyes go hazy as he made the climb to Nirvana.

  Megan wanted to stroke him with tenderness. To feel those strong, rough hands on her body. To explore all the possibilities offered by his very talented mouth, and show him a few talents of her own. She wanted to Master him, and care for him and make love with him. And she wanted him to make love to her, too.

  She took another sullen bite of ice cream. This was a disaster. The shrill ring of the phone tore her away from her thoughts.

  Stabbing her spoon viciously into the icy treat, Megan grabbed the phone and checked out the caller id. She grimaced at the number displayed, and forced a smile to her face, knowing her caller would hear her scowl in her voice.

  "Hello."

  "Meggie, baby, what's wrong?" Her mother's sweet voice sounded.

  "Nothing is wrong, Mama. I just had a long night." Megan closed her eyes to shut out the vision of just what had made the night so long. She absolutely couldn't think about Gregori's gloriously naked body while she was talking to her mother. The woman had a downright scary ability to read her children's voices.

  Still, she wanted nothing more than to go home and cry in her mother's lap. But she couldn't. It was exactly what her father would have expected her to do.

  "Oh, baby girl, I recognize that tone in your voice." Her mother paused dramatically. "What's his name and what has he done to my girl?"

  Megan couldn't help but laugh. "His name is Gregori and the only thing he's done is treat me like a goddess."

  "Then why are you cryin', honey? Most women would be thrilled to be put on a pedestal by her man."

  "Oh, Mama, they might do that for a while, but it always ends. Look at you and Daddy, he walks around like a randy rooster barking at everyone including you."

  Her mother laughed, a deep, full belly laugh that was totally at odds with her demure manners and appearance. That laugh always made Megan want to smile and join in, even when it was being used at her expense.

  "Megan my girl, the day your father thinks he can boss me around will be his last day on this earth."

  Megan shook her head, as if her mother could see the gesture.

  "Mama, I've seen you give into Daddy my whole life. Even when you knew how hard he was on me." Frustration and remembered pain knotted Megan's belly. How could her mother excuse her father's overbearing behavior?

  "Baby, I think you didn't pay attention. Beau has never disrespected me, nor has he ever forbidden me to do something I felt strongly about. Do I let him have his way? Of course I do, with his business and other such matters I don't want to be involved in. But, sweetie, he lets me have my way just as often."

  Megan shook her head again, trying to reconcile her mother's words with her own memories.

  Her mother sighed. "Sweetie you forget the long line of strong women you come from. I know you resented how strict your daddy was…"

  "
Mama, he spent my whole life telling me a woman should bend over backward for the man she loves. He preached to me over and over again how my job as his daughter was to go from his home to my husband's, and how once I was there, my job was to be a dutiful wife and produce him lots of grandbabies."

  Her mother's trilling laughter just flat out pissed her off.

  "What is so funny?"

  "Megan, your daddy said what all Southern fathers say to their daughters. He has never liked the idea of you being a grownup. It was his duty and pleasure to protect you as a child, but when you became a teenager, he panicked. He couldn't face the fact you were growing up and might leave him. Or, even worse, that you might not need him anymore. So he responded by clamping down even tighter on you. When you matured into the strong, stunning woman you are today, he was too set in his thinking to see it."

  Megan set the ice cream aside, as frustrated tears threatened to form in her eyes.

  "Mama, why didn't you ever tell me this before? Please don't tell me I've been carrying around this resentment all these years for no reason."

  "Oh, baby, you never asked." Her mother's voice was compassionate. "Loving someone isn't about controlling them," her mother added. "It's about compromising."

  Megan shook as her world tilted on its axis. She needed to think, and think hard, about her mother's revelations. She had to figure out what they changed, if anything.

  A brisk knock at the door broke her train of thought.

  "Mama, I've gotta go. There's someone at the door." She kissed at the phone and hung up. All these years, she'd taken everything her father said as gospel. Climbing out of her nest of pillows, Megan made her way to the door of her condo, flicking on lights along the way.

  Somehow she knew who she'd find even before she opened the door. She could feel the current arcing between them even through the solid oak.

  Gregori stood, one arm braced on the top of the door frame. His eyes looked almost haunted, and his features were taut with strain.

  "You win, milaya." He stood up straight and reached to run a finger down her cheek. "If the only way for me to be in your life is as a bland, vanilla lover, then that is what I shall be. Because I need to be in your life more than I need to be mastered."

  Megan bit her lip in indecision for all of five seconds before moving back to let him in.

  *

  Gregori glanced curiously around as he followed Megan into her condo. The space was small, but she'd created a haven of soft colors and rich textures that suited her to a tee. Megan herself was a bit of a surprise.

  Gone was the powerful Domme. There was no sign of the slick, sugar-coated steel magnolia. No make-up, a ratty Madonna College t-shirt, and her hair in a scraped up ponytail, and she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

  There was something in her eyes now, as she watched him. Not her usual reserve, but something else, something almost confused in her azure gaze.

  "Gregori, I…"

  He didn't dare trust what he thought he saw in her eyes, so Gregori silenced her in the quickest way he could think of. He kissed her.

  The first taste of her hit him like a pure, iced shot of vodka. He swayed against her, suddenly light-headed and almost giddy. Sweet. She tasted so sweet, creamy and tempting like dessert, but underneath was a spice that was all woman.

  Her breath hitched in a low gasp, and Gregori drank it down, greedy for her response. Her mouth opened under his, lips soft and damp and so fucking hot he felt singed.

  He stepped in closer, pressed up against her, and shuddered as he felt her curves melt against him. She moaned and flattened her hands on his chest, and a great cloud of rage and denial billowed up inside him until he realized she wasn't trying to push him away. She was just looking for something to cling to for balance.

  Satisfied for the moment, he lifted his hands to cup her face. She wasn't a small woman. There was nothing fragile about her. Yet in his grasp, she appeared delicate, breakable. It made him crazy. She made him crazy. He spread his fingers, speared them into her hair, and simply devoured her mouth.

  *

  Gregori Lavinkia did not kiss like a sexual submissive.

  No, he kissed like a man staking a claim. He kissed like a man starving for her. He kissed like a man obsessed.

  He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, then let it slide out between his teeth, nipping lightly before releasing it to crush his lips over hers again, and Megan went dizzy with desire. She'd never been so consumed; consumed by him, and consumed by her own reaction. The closest she'd ever come was when Dominating a particularly susceptible submissive, but even that fell far short of this.

  His fingers speared into her hair, dislodging her messy ponytail with a sharp tug. Then it was all honey as he combed through her tangled tresses, pulling just enough to make her scalp tingle, and her purr with appreciation.

  They kissed for what felt like hours, until her lips were bruised and tender, and only stopped when the need to breathe outweighed the need to devour.

  Gregori ducked his head, his lips landing on her collarbone like a brand. He muttered against her skin, soft words in Russian that sounded sacred and profane all at once.

  "Let me have you," he finally whispered into the curve of her neck, and she was helpless to deny him.

  No sooner had her ragged "Yes," passed her lips, and he was pulling at her t-shirt, dragging it over her head to toss carelessly behind him. She'd been prepared for bed, and wore no bra. Her breasts were free, and he groaned and buried his face between them.

  "Lyubimaya." The words vibrated against her skin, and she shivered in response. When he cupped each globe in his large, rough hands, the shiver became a shudder, and her moan echoed his.

  "Let me taste," he rasped, and dropped to his knees before she could respond. Not that she would have said no. No had been completely erased from her vocabulary.

  On his knees, Gregori paused. The air turned static around them. He tipped his head back and met her gaze, his heart in his own. It was such a submissive posture, Megan had to call on every bit of discipline she possessed not to wind her fingers through his hair and roughly order him to service her.

  But, no. That wasn't what this was about. She wasn't becoming his Domme. She was about to become his lover.

  After a pause that seemed to stretch into eternity, Gregori lowered his eyes, fastening his gaze, instead, on the bounty that filled his hands.

  "Ebat'," he muttered, catching her nipples in the vee of his fingers. "So beautiful…" He squeezed lightly, and she gasped, arching into the touch. "My Megan," he breathed against the painfully stimulated buds of her nipples. "My goddess."

  She cried out when he stretched up to scrape his teeth over her nipple, stunning herself with the rawness of the sound. Hell, she was stunned with the rawness of the sensation; the rawness of his touch.

  He moved one hand to her hip, holding her steady as she writhed against his mouth. His other hand cupped the breast he wasn't tormenting with teeth and tongue. He captured that nipple firmly between thumb and forefinger, compressing in time with his suction, and driving Megan straight out of her mind.

  Just when she almost had absorbed the sensation, he switched sides, loving the second nipple with lips and tongue. He gave a sharp, startling nip, then sucked the bud deeply into his mouth, only to almost immediately release it with a pop.

  "Can you come like this?" An hour ago the answer would have been no. The thought would have been ridiculous. But an hour ago, Megan hadn't experienced Gregori's oral genius on her breasts.

  "I don't know," she managed to force out. "Maybe. I don't want to." She was panting, and she hardly recognized her own voice. "I want to come with you inside me."

  He groaned and cursed foully, pulling away from her breasts.

  "Then you'd best get naked, milaya, because I am very, very close."

  His words and the look in his eyes sent liquid fire through her veins to pool between her thighs. He slid his hands under the wai
stband of her sloppy sweats, and eased them down her legs almost reverently, leaning in to plant soft, wet kissed along her inner thighs.

  "So sweet," he murmured into her soft flesh.

  "You, too," Megan gasped. "You need to be naked, too."

  Gregori sent her a wicked smile through his lashes, and dipped his head until he could slide his tongue between the swollen folds of her pussy. Just as she would have groaned and clasped his head to her for a deeper taste, he fell back on his haunches and yanked his black t-shirt over his head, baring all that pale golden flesh and silken black hair to her famished gaze.

  Megan stepped out of the fleece pooled at her feet, and offered Gregori both hands. He took them gently, and rose to his feet. Releasing his hands, Megan dropped hers to the button fly of his jeans.

  His cock was an iron bar behind the denim, so swollen it made maneuvering the buttons a challenge. When she finally managed to pry one free, his cock would surge toward the hint of freedom, teasing her fingers with the promise of hot, silky skin.

  When she'd finally unfastened most of the buttons, Megan slid her hand inside, under soft, worn denim; under the soft cotton of his briefs to the even softer skin of his shaft. He groaned and his hips heaved against her, forcing her into closer contact with his throbbing cock.

  She groaned, too, caught up in the feel of him in her hand at last.

  Now Megan dropped to her knees, peeling the jeans and briefs down his thick thighs, and guiding him to step out of them. He toed off his shoes and socks in the same movement, and then he stood over her, bare and beautiful. And hers.

  Drawn to him like iron to a magnet, Megan leaned in and rubbed her face against his belly. The skin was like velvet, the silky trail of hair made her cheek tingle deliciously. She looked up and smiled at his absorbed expression.

  Nuzzling at the groove where his thigh met his torso, she became absorbed herself. His scent was wild, musk and pine and all man. It filled her head and made her almost dizzy. She snaked out her tongue, teasing at the delicate skin there, and grinned in satisfaction when he groaned and his thighs went hard as marble.