“Is your back against the wall now?” I asked, once again staring out the window.
“No.”
I believed him.
“Who’s Zion?”
“He works for me. He’s one of the few I trust implicitly; therefore, you can, as well.”
The formality in his words had me curious as to who this man really was. I’d deduced only a few things, but I had the sneaking suspicion I would only know what Talon was willing to let me know.
Recalling his command for Tiegan to have my brother delivered to an airstrip and his mention of him taking us to an island, I could only assume that was where we were heading now.
“This island? Is that where you live?”
“Yes. Along with several others.”
“Tiegan mentioned a private jet.”
Talon smiled. “Of course she did.”
“I’ve seen a private jet before, Talon,” I informed him, hopefully my tone relaying the fact I wasn’t impressed.
“Not like this one, you haven’t.”
I burrowed into the warm coat and smiled, glancing over once more. “Is that arrogance I hear in your voice?”
“Don’t mistake pride for arrogance, Miss Bishop. I work very hard for my money. Luxury is something I can afford; therefore, I spare no expense.”
A few minutes later, I learned just what that meant.
When I heard the words private and jet in the same sentence, I expected something relatively small with custom seating and some additional elbow room, where people weren’t smashed in like sardines. Clearly, I was disillusioned, because this was not one of those simple, private puddle jumpers that got someone from point A to point B.
No, this was a full-sized airliner that had been modified for comfort. Extreme comfort.
“Do you live on this thing?” I mumbled, ogling the furnishings and decor.
“Let’s just say I travel quite frequently. Make yourself comfortable,” Talon instructed when he led me into what appeared to be a living area.
This space was as opulent as any mansion I’d ever seen pictures of. It was a sea of white with plush carpeting, luxurious leather seating, power everything. Even a large panel television and artwork designed into the lacquered walls.
I was almost worried I wouldn’t want to leave once I did settle in.
My teeth chattered as I hugged the coats closer, feeling suddenly too tired to stand. Despite the dry socks, my feet were still frozen, which was probably the reason they didn’t hurt too badly.
The concern on Talon’s face surprised me when he stepped forward, his big hands cupping my shoulders. “We need to get you warmed up.”
I wanted to tell him it was just the adrenaline waning, but I was suddenly too cold to argue. However, I didn’t want to be the puny woman who appeared too weak to take care of herself.
The extremely attractive man who was shirtless because I was in possession of his coat and wearing a stainless steel collar around his neck with the word Owned artfully engraved came to stand beside Talon. He didn’t speak, but his full attention was focused solely on Talon.
That collar… It meant… This man was Talon’s submissive.
I didn’t get the opportunity to say a word before Talon bent down, slid one arm beneath my knees, the other behind my back. He lifted me as though I weighed nothing, and I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck and burrowing into his warmth.
“I’ve got you,” he said softly as he moved with purpose in the opposite direction.
He did and I felt safe in his arms. Safer than I had in a long, long time.
“Get the shower running,” Talon instructed.
Shower? On a plane? Why was I surprised?
The shirtless man who’d been lingering nearby walked ahead of us.
“I’ll be okay,” I told Talon, but the words sounded pitiful because I was now shivering deep down to my core.
Because I was curious, I watched where we were going.
“How big is this thing?” I said under my breath as we continued along a wide corridor that spanned one half of the jet and continued for a good distance.
Granted, the only thing to remind me I was even on an airplane was the rows of windows that lined the outer walls of the fuselage. Without those, it would’ve been easy to get confused, believing one was in someone’s luxury home.
“Big enough,” Talon responded as though it had been a serious question.
Talon stopped just inside a set of white wooden doors. “Holy crap.”
With gentle movements, Talon set me on my feet. I held tight to the coats, praying my knees wouldn’t buckle as I admired the masculine decor. The other man was making his way across the decent-sized bedroom, disappearing into what looked to be a bathroom.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Talon said, cupping my face and staring intently into my eyes. “Once Auberon gets everything ready, he’ll leave you be. Will you be all right?”
“Of course.” I could see his skepticism, so I plastered on a smile. “Really.”
Talon nodded, then turned and left the room, leaving the doors open on his way out.
Auberon—what kind of name was that?—returned a moment later, walking toward me with purpose.
It took effort not to look at his muscular chest, his rippling abs. No doubt, the man was a feast for the eyes, but knowing he belonged to Talon made me feel wrong for admiring him, so I immediately looked away, focusing on the far wall.
Without a word, he continued out into the hall, securing the doors closed behind him, leaving me alone in the opulent space.
The room, which I took to be Talon’s private quarters, was designed with rich, dark wood and expensive linens. The cream-colored carpeting in the sleeping area was plush, the bedding luxurious. I took it all in. There were two recliners on one side positioned with a small table and a computer monitor mounted to the wall on a retractable arm between them. I would bet there were seat belts hidden, for use in the event of turbulence or something.
Not that I knew the first thing about airplanes or turbulence. I’d never been in one before. Everything I’d learned had come from movies. That was my way of seeing the world.
Everything in this room was secured in place, including the shelf of books—spy novels, from what I could tell—that formed a headboard, the electric fireplace set in the wall, as well as the big-screen TV.
The bed appeared larger than normal, and I figured it was custom-made to accommodate Talon’s long body. As I stared at the mocha-colored duvet and the soft cream sheets, I wondered if anyone had been in that bed with Talon. Auberon, probably. Others? How often?
Shaking off the thought because Talon’s personal life was none of my concern, I headed into the bathroom.
“Holy crap.”
Yes, that was me on repeat, but I couldn’t come up with anything more to say. The floor was tiled, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if it was heated. There were double sinks mounted in stone vanities, a double-sized shower, a walk-in closet, and yes, even a separate area for the toilet.
“Probably has instant hot water.” I turned on the sink and found that, yes, I was right.
Seeing that there was a plush black robe hanging outside the shower for when I was finished, I opted to get in. The steam rising up and over the clear glass beckoned me, promising warmth.
As I disrobed and stepped into the lavish shower, I wondered if the experience of taking a shower on a plane was any different than anywhere else.
I smiled, and this time it felt sturdier. “I guess I’m about to find out.”
*
TALON
An impromptu trip back to Sapphire Island required effort to accommodate, especially on a major holiday.
Not that any of my employees would ever complain, but I was well aware of what went into it. Hence the reason I pitched in to make the required calls to get things in order, including one that had Tiegan making a quick trip to get Braelyn some clothes. Because she was incred
ibly efficient, I knew my assistant would be prompt, ensuring she didn’t delay takeoff. Since we were still waiting for Zion and Ransom, a few minutes could be spared.
Once that was done, I considered getting situated in my office and taking care of a few things while Braelyn completed her shower but changed my mind when my curiosity got the best of me.
I was not a man prone to curiosity, mind you. Rarely did anyone or anything pique my interest enough to divert my attention from important matters such as the businesses I’d dedicated my life to. Turned out, Braelyn Bishop was an exception, as I’d learned over the course of the past year, which was how I found myself in my private quarters, lurking.
Rather than settle into one of the recliners and wait for her to finish, I wandered into the bathroom, past the glass-enclosed shower, and into the walk-in closet to change. I traded the tuxedo for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, no shoes. While I had a professional persona I maintained meticulously, this was the attire I preferred, although rarely did anyone ever see me in such. At least not people who were not closest to me.
On my way back to the bedroom, I came up short when I caught a glimpse of Braelyn in the mirror. She was still in the shower, hands raised as she rinsed shampoo from her hair, the bubbles sluicing over the tips of her small, upturned breasts, then down her long, slender form. I was captivated by the sight, completely enthralled, unable to look away.
Now, I’d seen plenty of naked females in my life, but rarely did one capture my attention in a manner that had my jaw unhinging. Short, tall, thin, thick, light-skinned, dark-skinned, I’d seen them all, and I appreciated them all, never before having a preference. From a sexual aspect, I enjoyed both men and women of all races and nationalities, but there was something profoundly sensual about the woman standing in my shower. The way she moved, her long limbs graceful as she went through the motions.
I wasn’t sure if I made a sound or if Braelyn simply sensed my presence, but she turned around and looked into the mirror, her eyes meeting mine in the reflective glass.
Based on what I knew of her, it wouldn’t have shocked me if she had squealed in alarm, tried to shield her nakedness from my intruding gaze. She didn’t. In fact, she continued on as though she hadn’t caught me watching her.
For a brief moment, I wondered if that was the case, but then she spoke.
“Do you like what you see?”
She was teasing me; I could hear it in her tone. But beneath the words, I sensed her modesty. She was pretending for me, and that in itself turned me on more than anything. I was used to submissives who played coy while flaunting everything they had in the hopes of catching a Dominant’s attention. At the club, they were en masse.
“I do,” I confirmed, wondering if she had expected me to saunter off with my eyes averted.
Little did Braelyn know, but I was not a man who backed down from a challenge. Nor was I the sort to go out of my way to make a submissive comfortable.
And Braelyn Bishop was as submissive as they came, of that I was certain.
“The question is, do you enjoy me watching?” I countered, moving around so that I could see her directly, rather than through the mirror.
Her eyes met mine through the steamy shower door. Once again, she made no attempt to cover herself, nor did she answer, but I could see it in her eyes. While she was slightly embarrassed, the fact that I was watching turned her on.
It was obvious she was finished when she reached to turn off the water.
“Are you warm?”
“Very much,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”
While she squeezed the excess water from her hip-length hair, I grabbed the towel Auberon had placed in the warmer.
It seemed we were at a standoff when Braelyn opened the door and held her hand out. A polite man would’ve passed it over, left her alone so she could dress in privacy.
For the record, I was not a polite man.
“Allow me,” I offered, holding it open so she could walk into it.
It was a dare, and I could tell she realized that by the sparkle in her pretty, honey-gold eyes. Again, Braelyn surprised me, stepping out of the shower enclosure and onto the thick rug that was awaiting her on the floor. She turned her back to me, and after allowing my gaze to fully rake over her form, I enveloped her in the plush cotton, stepping forward so that I was pressed against her back as she took the edges and closed them around herself.
“You smell good,” I whispered near her ear, using the same words she’d used on me earlier.
I felt her shiver and knew it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
For a brief moment, I was tempted to press my lips to her skin, to see if she was as soft and smooth as she appeared. I refrained from doing so, but only because I was enjoying the game we were playing.
“Your clothes will be delivered shortly,” I told her as I stepped back. “In the meantime…” I motioned toward the robe hanging on the wall, then walked around her and into the bedroom.
She appeared a few minutes later, her hair still wet and hanging down her back, the black robe wrapped securely around her and belted at the waist. Because the robe was tailored to fit me, it dwarfed her, the cuffs rolled up multiple times to free her hands, the bottom hem brushing the tops of her feet. It was a look I found more than a little fascinating, and it had me wondering what she would look like in my shirt. And nothing else.
“Rolphe, dry Miss Bishop’s hair,” I ordered my other possession.
I could see the surprise on Braelyn’s face when Rolphe moved toward her, but she only hesitated slightly when he held his hand out for hers, leading her back to the bathroom.
While they took care of that, I went into the office attached to my sleeping quarters, pleased to find that Auberon had started the electric fireplace, warming the space immensely.
“Find the first-aid kit,” I instructed him, sending him on his way once more.
Fifteen minutes later, I returned to the bedroom when I heard the hair dryer turn off. I stepped into the room at the same time Braelyn stepped out of the bathroom. I saw the way she eyed the bed speculatively, so I decided to put her at ease.
“This way,” I said when she looked my way.
Her gaze shot over to the single door, and I could sense her questions.
“It’s my office.”
Her soft sigh was one of relief and I found myself smiling. Although she’d appeared bold and sure of herself, it looked as though it was a bit overinflated.
I followed Braelyn into my office, stopping abruptly when she did. I peered over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. There, kneeling on the floor, was Auberon, at his side, Rolphe, both having taken up the positions required of them when they had completed all their assigned tasks.
“They’re waiting for me,” I assured her, guiding her around them.
“Do they do that often?” Her voice wavered slightly when she glanced back at them.
“Only when they’re waiting for me to give them something to do.” I followed Braelyn across the room, gestured toward one of the two plush recliners that would keep us secure during takeoff.
While Braelyn took her seat, I retrieved the first-aid kit from the desk, carried it over to her.
Her eyes widened. “What’s that?”
“I need to take a look at your feet,” I informed her. “You’ve been limping since we left the party.”
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, tucking her feet back as much as she could.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
She hesitated but finally loosened her muscles when I knelt down before her, reaching for one foot. Lifting it up, I gave it a quick glance, noticing the numerous scrapes and abrasions. Nothing too serious, but I was certain they would be causing her some pain. It was when I looked at the other that my concern grew. Her skin was torn, a jagged gash running down her instep. It was already angry red and inflamed.
Because I wasn’t a doctor, I opted to hold off on d
oing anything more than dabbing peroxide on the cuts and applying a light layer of antibiotic ointment.
She must’ve caught me frowning, because she bent forward, tried to look. “Is it bad?”
Her worried eyes followed me when I stood and headed for the telephone.
“Have Dr. Tate come to my office when he has a few minutes. After takeoff.” I didn’t bother waiting for a response before disconnecting the call and turning to my possessions. “Auberon, Rolphe, take your seats in the bedroom.”
With practiced movements, they stood, immediately retreating to the other room and into the two chairs in there.
“A doctor?” Braelyn was attempting to look at her feet, pulling one into her lap. “Oh.”
“I’ll feel better if he looks you over, fixes you up.”
“Sure.” Braelyn’s gaze shifted to the doorway as I took my seat next to her. “Are you … um … married to them?”
The question wasn’t nearly as ludicrous as it had been the first time I’d heard it many years ago, but it still caught me by surprise. It had taken me time to realize that not many understood my relationship with my possessions because they weren’t around to see it.
“Certainly not.”
Braelyn relaxed in her chair, crossing one mile-long leg over the other then draping the robe to cover herself. “Are they … I don’t know what you call it? Like temporary submissives?”
I glanced over at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s just … I really don’t know what I’m supposed to talk about. I mean, you just saw me naked and you’ve clearly got two submissives waiting for you, so…”
I opted not to correct her, more than a little curious to see her dig her way out of this hole.
EIGHT
Braelyn
Nervous. That was what I was. And as was par for the course, I tended to ramble incessantly.
But I was feeling something else, something more potent. It was the same thing I’d felt the first time I met Talon, the same thing that had haunted me for the past year.
Owned (Office Intrigue Book 8) Page 9