by Lee Taylor
"I feel badly about the dogs, now you've explained it," she offered.
He wiped the horn and laid it almost reverently in its case. "How could you have known? That's in the past. It's our future that's important."
A shiver of apprehensive delight travelled through Jessie's veins. Our future?
Michael put his arm around her and they strolled to the restaurant. Though he hadn't said anything about dining together, she'd taken it as a given they would.
Strange that it felt natural to go along with him, as if he were already part of her life. She'd thoroughly enjoyed their long afternoon walk along the beach. She'd convinced Michael she had the wrong knees to be a jogger.
But could she trust him?
"I'll just put this back in my room. Come with me," he said.
He took her hand, squeezing it gently as they walked down the hallway together.
"I never heard of a flugelhorn," she confessed as he unlocked his door and reached to put the case on his bed. "It looks like a trumpet."
He gave her a look of mock outrage. "No, no, my dear. Different animal altogether. Sweeter."
He stepped back into the hallway, locked the door, and guided her to the restaurant. For this evening she'd chosen another dress bought for the trip, a whimsical purchase she'd thought she'd never wear, even in Panama. The floral patterned sundress wasn't particularly revealing as far as cleavage went, but there was a slit across the back between the top and the skirt, which was longer in the back than the front.
She didn't think he'd noticed the slit until he ushered her to the restaurant, his hand on the bare skin at the small of her back. His warmth penetrated to her bones. Suddenly, she knew why a little voice in her head had urged her to buy the dress.
Michael nuzzled the back of her neck. "Nice," he murmured.
A wave of heat rolled over Jessie, settling in her lower belly. "Thanks," she rasped.
He pulled out her chair. She sat and looked back at him. "Thank you, kind sir," she said.
Where had that come from? Was she playing with fire?
Michael merely nodded then took his seat across from her.
Julio came with menus, ogling her. "Señora, bee-yu-tee-fool."
She could have sworn Michael growled.
Julio glanced quickly at Michael, smiling nervously. "Vino, señor Mike?"
"Sí, right away, por favor. Frontera. Same as before."
Julio scurried off without a second look at Jessie.
The certainty that Michael had let Julio know it was hands off felt good. A champion was a pleasing notion. Her Wise Protector.
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I noticed corvina is one of the specials tonight. Let's order that."
How did he know she loved sea bass? "Perfect," she purred.
Julio brought the wine and two glasses. He made his usual show of opening the wine and folding the paper napkins to absorb the condensation that would inevitably drip off the glasses. He didn't serve the wine, but instead took out a pen and pad while Michael poured. Michael ordered the corvina. Julio executed a bow, and left.
I'm not the only one bowing to his wishes.
He passed her glass, angling his own to hers. "Here's to you, Jessie."
She returned the toast then took a sip. "Thank you, Michael."
"I like that dress, although it doesn't show enough of your breasts."
She might drown in those intense blue eyes. Time to talk about something else. "Tell me about your investigative work."
Michael shrugged. "When you first start a business, you don't discriminate. I took all kinds of cases. Now I concentrate on two areas."
She waited expectantly, but he said nothing more. "Two?" she finally asked.
He smiled. "I have a young man who works for me. He's a camera geek. He takes pictures."
It took her a moment, but then she felt her face redden. "Catching people in the act, you mean."
He laughed, clinking their glasses again. "Here's to cheating husbands and wives. Quite lucrative."
She tried to tamp down a feeling of disappointment.
"Disappointed?" he asked.
She squirmed in her seat. "No--"
"You don't lie well, Jessie. If it makes you feel better, most of my work involves prosecuting people who abuse the elderly."
He was playing with her, testing to see what her reaction would be to his earning a living from pursuing deadbeat husbands.
She wagged her forefinger at him. "You're naughty!"
~~~
Jessie could have no idea of the naughty thoughts in Michael's mind. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his job. He had a sudden urge to tell her about Scallywags. It felt right. Everything about this woman felt right.
But he was starting to realize the extent of her fear. He sensed she recognised the submissive part of her personality, but was afraid to give herself wholly to a Dominant male, especially after the mistakes of her past.
It was becoming evident to him as well that being a Dom was as much about exercising mastery over his own desires as it was about control over a woman.
His body urged him to take Jessie to his bed, but his mind told him to go slow, to build her trust. "I have a contract with the Ministry of Health to investigate elder abuse. It gives me a lot of satisfaction to prosecute people who take advantage of the elderly."
Jessie steepled her hands under her chin and leaned towards him. "I didn't realize it was such a big problem."
"The U.S. government's Administration on Aging estimates that as many as five million seniors are abused or neglected each year in the United States. We have similar stats for Canada. Elder abuse can be financial, physical, emotional, and sexual. Elderly people who are abused are twice as likely to be hospitalized, four times as likely to go into nursing homes and three times as likely to die."
The shock registered on her face. "Good grief! That's terrible."
"And you'd be surprised if I told you the names of some of the people guilty of this type of thing. Some of them are losers, but I'm currently investigating a well-known Victorian who I believe has defrauded elderly women, all dementia patients in local institutions, by convincing them to sell their expensive homes to him for a pittance."
Jessie covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with disgust. "Incredible. My parents are both dead, but my mother was ill for ten years, and I admit it got frustrating, but I would never--"
He loved that she choked up about it. He reached for her hand. "I felt the same about my father. He passed away after a long illness."
Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "What about your mom?"
Michael's emotions about his mother were so confused, he didn't know if he could explain. A Dom didn't allow his emotions to show. Or did he? "My mom is still alive, but she's in a nursing home. She thinks she's an opera singer."
Follie!
Jessie's mouth fell open. "What's her favorite opera?"
Amore! Gioir!
Michael could barely speak. "La Traviata."
"Ah! Violetta's aria with Alfredo, no doubt."
Michael swallowed hard. To gain this woman's trust would be worth the effort. "You're a remarkable woman, Jessie."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
They chatted for an hour. Michael told Jessie about some of the cases he'd been involved with, without mentioning names.
She talked about her writing, more or less admitting she'd written His Willing Slave without knowing much about the lifestyle.
"So, why did you choose to write about Doms and Subs?" he asked finally.
She hesitated, eyeing him as she sipped the last of her wine. "I thought it would sell better."
She'd chickened out, but he couldn't blame her. They'd known each other for only a short time, and he hadn't made a good first impression. "I don't believe you," he said.
She stared at him. "What do you think my motivation was?"
He relished the challenge this woman represented. Would the
direct approach work? He was a Dom after all.
"I think you have a deeply buried desire to submit to a dominant male."
Her face reddened. "You're saying that because you've read my book."
He looked her in the eye. "I have read your book, but that's not why I said it. I know you, Jessie. You were made for me. We both have needs. I can meet yours."
She shifted in her seat, obviously uncomfortable, studying her hands splayed on the table. "I don't know what my needs are, Michael, how can you know?"
He covered her hands with his. "I know. I enjoyed your book, by the way. You kept me spell bound."
He was encouraged that she didn't pull her hands away, but she still avoided eye contact.
"If you read my book, you know that James is not a Dominant in the sense that he wants to enslave Susan."
This was the sum of her fear. He entwined his fingers with hers. "Look at me, Jessie."
~~~
Jessie's emotions see-sawed. Every instinct urged her to obey his very direct command, but was that because she feared him? His tone of voice indicated he expected her to comply.
Or was she falling in love with him? It would be too easy to let him take charge of her life. She needed a strong male influence. But she'd just begun to make her own way in the world as a successful author. Was it her new found success that attracted Michael, or did he really like her? Could she take the risk, or would he become too dominant if she let him into her heart?
The warmth from his hands seeped into her body. Slowly, she raised her head. He smiled, then let go of one hand, reaching over to cup her face gently. "That's my girl. I don't want a slave, Jessie. I want to be to you what James is to Susan. It's as if you wrote my soul."
She leaned her face into his hand, her body absorbing his heat. She was burning with a desire that threatened to consume her. "Come to my room," she whispered.
~~~
Michael's already insistent erection turned to granite, but an inner voice urged caution. Jessie had made a leap of faith, but could yet be frightened away if he came across as too needy. A Submissive like her didn't need an out of control Dom. He traced his thumb gently over her eyelashes. "Are you sure?"
She came to her feet. "Yes. Let's go."
She wanted to get it over with before she changed her mind. He remained seated. "Sit down, Jessie. There's no hurry. I'll still want you as much an hour from now, or ten hours from now. We can take our time."
God, he hoped it wouldn't take ten hours to gain her trust.
She obeyed, but squirmed on her chair, her arms rigid as she gripped the seat.
He itched to touch her, but decided against it. "You want me," he stated.
Their eyes met. She nodded.
"Tell me how much you want me."
She held her breath, her face reddening, her knuckles whitening as she knitted her hands together on the table. But she didn't look away. "I want you more than I've ever wanted any man."
Michael clenched his jaw. "Prove it."
She frowned.
"Tell me what you want to do to me, to my body, to my cock."
She looked ready to bolt. Had he gone too far? "Let me tell you what I want to do to you."
Her mouth fell open.
"First, I intend to peel off that dress, then undo your bra, slip it off and worship your breasts. Then I'll slide your panties over your hips. Will they be wet, Jessie?"
She swallowed hard. "Yes."
He raised an eyebrow. "Did you forget something?"
"Yes, sir."
Elation zinged through him. "Then I'm going to run my hands all over your body while you stand perfectly still. I want to see every inch of you."
She smiled nervously. "It's not a pretty sight--sir."
She'd intended it as a joke, but it annoyed him she thought she wasn't attractive. "Don't ever say that again, Jessie."
Her eyes widened with a hint of understanding that he meant what he said. "No, sir."
"Then you'll kneel at my feet and watch me while I strip."
She looked like she'd faint if she didn't take a breath soon.
"Then you'll kiss the tip of my cock, and swirl your tongue over it."
She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Had she noticed the beads of sweat on his forehead?
"Open your eyes, Jessie. When you take me into your mouth, you're not permitted to close your eyes."
Her eyes flew open. "Michael, please."
"Please what?"
"Please, sir. You're making me want to come."
He pushed back his chair and came to his feet, satisfied they'd made good progress. If he didn't get inside her soon, he'd burst. "Lead the way," he rasped.
Much as he wanted to cover the fifteen yards to her door in three seconds flat, he took her hand and strolled slowly down the hallway. He kneaded the back of her neck as she fumbled with the key, inhaling the faint aroma of female arousal.
She thrust the door open, rushing to tidy up stuff strewn all over the top of the dresser. "Sorry about the mess, sir. I'm not a neat person."
He stayed her hand. She was trembling. "Leave it. I don't care about the dresser."
She nodding, putting down the items she'd gathered. Among them he noticed a small package with the name of a hotel on it, and the words EYE MASK clearly visible on the slim box. One end was open, the edge of the black mask peeking out. He slipped it out of the box, holding it between two fingers in front of her. "What's this, Jessie?"
She turned wary brown eyes on him. "I bring it when I travel, sir. I don't sleep well on an airplane, or if there's too much light in a hotel room."
"So you've never worn it while a man has made love to you?"
She looked away. "No, sir," she whispered.
"We'll remedy that tonight."
~~~
Did she trust him that much? At this point she had little choice. "Yes, sir," she murmured.
Michael chuckled. "Well, don't make it sound like a death sentence."
Her tummy lurched. There'd been too many incidents reported in the press recently about unsolved murders of Canadians on holiday in exotic locations. Had she put herself in danger? Or was her imagination running away with her?
She had a gorgeous, sexy man in her room who wanted to make love to her, who claimed to be the kind of Dom she craved. Her experience at Scallywags had proven that a little bit of fear and apprehension could do wonders for a girl's orgasmic abilities. That earth shattering climax had left her wanting more of the same. It could be achieved even if the planets weren't in alignment.
Strange thing was, whenever she inhaled Michael's lemony cologne or heard his husky voice, she was reminded of Scallywags.
He drew her to the centre of the room. She glanced at his groin. Would he punish her if she pressed her hand to the bulge in his pants?
"Not yet. Stand still," he said quietly. "We're about to begin."
Juices flooded from between her legs. Oh, yes, her panties were definitely going to be wet when Michael peeled them off.
The dress had no fastening. Once he'd lifted it as far as her breasts, it resisted. "I'm a bit too big for it across the chest," she explained.
He shook his head, turned her away, and smacked her bottom. "I asked you not to say negative things about your body."
It wasn't a hard smack, just a love tap really, but it jolted Jessie back into her role. "Sorry, sir."
"Raise your arms."
She complied and he tugged the dress over her head. "Good girl."
He stared at her breasts. She'd worn her favorite bra, a flesh colored underwire with lacy trim that always felt very feminine. Sexy bras in her size that gave enough support were hard to find, but this one filled the bill. She arched her back, thrusting out her breasts. It was obvious he wanted her. She was a sexy, desirable woman.
He cupped her with both hands, nuzzling his nose into her cleavage. "God, I love your breasts," he rasped.
He reached behind and deftly unhooked the fastenin
g. He took a step back as he drew the undergarment from her body. Her nipples tingled, hardening under his gaze. He tossed the bra aside. "You've no idea how I've longed to see these beauties."
She grew bolder. "Are they what you expected, sir?"
He narrowed his eyes. "I should punish you again for that hint of doubt in your voice, Jessie, but I'll overlook it this time. They're even more gorgeous than I anticipated."
He bent to swirl his tongue over a nipple, sending liquid fire down her thighs, into her toes and from there to her already throbbing clit. She sank her fingers into the wiry curls of his hair.
He reached for her hands and pulled them away from his head, entwining his fingers as he forced her arms to her sides. "Not yet, you must wait to hear my wishes, Jessie."
"Sorry, sir," she breathed.
He suckled, pulling hard on the nipple, grazing her with his teeth. Shock waves bounced around her ribcage. Was he going to bite her?
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," he whispered.
Could he read her mind?
"Do you think I'd do anything to harm these?" he asked. "You must trust me."
She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, only a squeak would emerge from her dry throat.
"Now, your panties."
She held her breath as he tucked his thumbs into the waistband.
"These are not sexy."
Bewildered, she glanced down at her serviceable white cotton panties. She'd worn the comfortable waist style for years, and never given a thought to what a man might think of them. Radu had said nothing. "I--"
Michael put a finger on her lips. "We'll buy you something sexier."
An image of shopping for thong underwear with Michael in some department store rose up in her mind. She vacillated between I'll choose my own underwear, thank you very much, and Let's go do it now. "Yes, sir," she murmured.
"Step out of them, love."
She hadn't realized that while she'd been laughing in the face of a jealous store clerk in her mind, Michael had pulled her panties down around her ankles. God! He'd be turned off when he saw how wet they were. She put her hands on his shoulders, closed her eyes, and stepped out of the underwear.
"Mmm," he breathed.
Her eyes flew open. He had her panties to his nose, inhaling. "I--"