Shit, shit, shit. What a clusterfuck.
Dane gripped her thigh. “Steph, no. Are you crazy? Those men just offered to buy you. Don’t you understand? They offered us money as though you were a whore. You can’t go back there.”
“But…” She bit her lip before continuing. “I need this job.”
Aiden cleared his throat. “No, Steph. I saw their faces and the way they looked at you. Those men who own your company are not safe BDSM players. They don’t mess around. They may seem perfectly normal at the office, but in private it’s clear to me they practice a level of dominance you wouldn’t want anything to do with. They won’t be welcome back at that club again. They were guests tonight. People in the BDSM community do not take kindly to any advances on their subs without permission. Word spreads quickly in our world. Those bosses of yours will have a very bad reputation before they can even blink.”
“The squirrelly one? He practically assaulted you with his gaze,” Dane added.
“But I can’t just quit. I have bills to pay. I’m up for that promotion. I need this job.”
“You don’t need it that bad, Steph.” Dane stood and ran a hand through his hair.
She fumed. Were Aiden and Dane going to dictate this part of her life too? Fuck no. She was an intelligent woman capable of making her own career decisions. They were crossing a line if they thought they could tell her to quit her job.
Aiden stood next to Dane when Stephanie shoved him with both hands. She squirmed out of the bed, not caring about her nudity or the burning need between her legs from the warm gel.
She was pounding mad now. “Don’t tell me how to run my life. I’ll make my own decisions when it comes to my job and my financial security, thank you. You may be able to boss me around in the bedroom, but you can’t expect me to give up my job just because you say so. That’s my future. My…independence.” Was she being unreasonable? She couldn’t think clearly.
She held up a hand when Dane opened his mouth. “I’m leaving.” She walked past them both, grabbed her sweater from earlier in the day off the bench seat and tugged the soft material over her head. Who cared about underwear right now? The skirt lay rumpled on the bench, and she whipped it up next and stepped into the flowing layers.
She needed to get out of there. She couldn’t think or breathe in that huge apartment. Suddenly there wasn’t enough oxygen. She was suffocating.
Fists at her sides, feet bare, she grabbed her purse and headed out of the room. Aiden and Dane followed on her heels.
“Steph…” Aiden pleaded. “Listen to yourself.”
She whipped around to face them when she reached the front door. “I don’t know if I can do this.” She gripped the knob until her fingers hurt. “It’s too…” Too what? She couldn’t even think of the right words. Too overwhelming. Too hindering. Too all-encompassing. Had she completely lost her mind over the past week?
Aiden stepped forward, his hands raised in surrender. His voice was gentle. “Listen. You’re pissed, angry, confused. That’s understandable. Take some time. Go back to your place and think. Take the weekend. Read everything you can get your hands on about this lifestyle and consider it hard.
“We want you as a full-time sub, Steph. We’ve discussed it thoroughly, and we know in our hearts you are the woman we want to spend our lives with. But we want you to go into the position knowing as many of the facts as possible. It’s not for everyone.
“However…” He took a deep breath and slouched his shoulders.
Dane came up beside him and set a hand on his partner’s arm. “What he’s trying to say is that you can’t go back to that job if you choose to stay with us. Don’t make this about money. We have plenty of money and if you choose to work, you can work for us. We could use the help frankly. But you can’t go back to that office where those pigs tried to purchase you for sex. We wouldn’t be able to tolerate that. It’s a deal breaker for us.”
Aiden sucked in a breath and continued. The men were like two halves of a brain, so in sync with each other they could maintain an entire conversation taking turns speaking. “Please do us one favor.”
She nodded.
“Don’t go to that party tomorrow. We can’t stand the idea of you showing up there. Let it go. It’s not worth it. Stay home for the next two days and think about everything we’ve said. If you decide to give this life a try, we’ll see you Monday morning. If you can’t bring yourself to quit working for those rancid bastards, go to work instead. But do so with full understanding of your options. Okay? Can you do that?” Aiden stepped toward her, but Dane held him back.
“Yes.” Her voice was small. She didn’t wait for any more. She turned, opened the door and stepped into the hall. Hopefully no one would be out in the corridor or the elevator at this time of night. She couldn’t face a soul.
She made it on tiptoes to her apartment, opened the door on the third try when her fingers finally managed to get the key in the lock. She shut the door behind her and slumped against it to the floor.
She leaned her face in her hands and sobbed, releasing all the pent-up frustration of days of insanity that had culminated in the unthinkable.
Her entire world was in limbo and she had a lot of thinking to do.
But first, she needed this cry. Even if it lasted all night, she would cry until she passed out. She dragged herself to her bedroom, slumped onto the bed, curled up in a ball and let the tears continue to fall.
Chapter Nineteen
It was noon Saturday before Stephanie stuck her head out from under the covers. She’d been awake for hours but hadn’t wanted to pull the blanket back from her face. It was warm and dark under the comforter. As long as she remained, she could avoid facing reality.
She had no idea what was reality anymore. She stared up at the ceiling as though it held the answers if she could just squint enough to read the writing.
Was it possible the last week had been a dream…or perhaps a nightmare? She took a deep breath. Harold Reeves and Jack Cane were Dominants. There was no avoiding that truth. And they’d propositioned her. No, they’d offered money for her. They’d called her vile names. Jack had stroked her skin with his smarmy hand.
She shivered. Disgust sat low in her belly. Bile rose in her throat. The idea of her boss touching her made her need to vomit.
All these years she’d worked for them she’d never known. They’d hidden their true nature well. Now what? She couldn’t go to the company party in six hours, that was for sure. She wasn’t sure if she’d even be able to get out of bed by then. No way could she face her bosses, date or no date.
Part of her was pissed Dane and Aiden had given her an ultimatum where it concerned her job; the other part of her was warm and mushy that they cared so much about her they didn’t want to see her treated badly.
Was it high-handed of them to demand she not return to her job? Yes, but she had to admit they were right. It might not even matter at this point. She wasn’t about to go to the party tonight and that would ruin any chance at a promotion. Stephanie moaned. She’d worked so hard for so long. How had she not seen this side of her bosses? Because Doms don’t roam around with their lifestyle preferences tattooed to their foreheads, that’s why. And because these weren’t ordinary Doms. Those two were perverted, fucked-up shitheads.
Stephanie smiled briefly at her mental adjectives. She considered her options. Any thought of walking into that party or even the front door of her office on Monday made her cringe. She wouldn’t be able to face those men again. Had she come to the conclusion on her own, or had she been unduly influenced by the two sexy dudes from the fifteenth floor?
Whether or not she returned to work was an entirely separate decision from returning to the fifteenth floor. It was easy to acknowledge her inability to keep her job.
Deciding to become a full-time sub was another giant can of worms altogether.
Ugh. Stephanie slipped out from under the covers and padded toward the bathroom. Her bladder needed
release and then her stomach needed coffee.
She stripped her clothes off from last night—the sweater and skirt—and tossed them in the hamper.
Stephanie strode back into the bedroom, grabbed an old T-shirt that hung to her thighs and slipped it over her head. She wasted no time making her way to the kitchen to brew coffee.
After a few cups she would be able to think—she hoped.
As she waited for the elixir to percolate, she wandered through the living room and stared at her meager possessions. Was there anything in the place she even cared about? She had very few mementos of her childhood. Her mother hadn’t kept much and what she did have was of almost no value.
Something on the floor by the door caught her eye. She froze. An envelope. It had been slid under the door. Aiden and Dane?
The coffee finished brewing. The sound of the last drop bubbling out of the machine and into the pot rang in the air. The scent made her lift her nose and breathe in deeply. But her gaze never left the spot on the floor with the crisp white legal-sized letter.
What did they need to say that they hadn’t said last night? Maybe they’d changed their minds and decided she wasn’t what they wanted after all. She couldn’t blame them after the events of last night. She was quite a package. Broken and damaged and disgusted with herself.
Inching forward, she let her eyes blink several times. Was it an apparition?
Nope. The white paper stayed right in its spot as she approached. With shaking fingers, she plucked it off the floor and took it to the kitchen table.
After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she turned back to the table and sat. She paused, lifted her butt, tugged her T-shirt out from under her and plopped back down on her bare ass. She spread her legs and wrapped her ankles around the chair legs. This could become second nature.
She finished half the cup before she had the courage to open the envelope. Finally she tore into it with the eagerness of a child on her birthday.
She unfolded two sheets of paper, amazed at the length, and read:
Stephanie,
We are so sorry about last night. If we’d had any idea you’d run into someone you knew at that club, we never would have taken you there. I’m sure it was mortifying.
In the last week, we have both been overcome by the intense attraction we have for you. We adore you and know in our hearts this affection can only grow over time.
We sincerely hope you will consider our proposition. We realize it’s a huge commitment on your part to venture down the path we are suggesting. Please remember, nothing will happen between us that can’t be undone or ended at any time. We would never do anything to intentionally harm you, either physically or emotionally.
We know quitting your job is a huge decision; however, we hope by the time you find this letter, you have at least come to the conclusion you can’t return to that office.
If that’s the case, what do you have to lose? Come to us. Let us fill the void in your life. Know that being our sub doesn’t make you weak. On the contrary, it shows your incredible strength.
Before you agree, please consider the following list of our expectations carefully. You have two days to ponder the consequences and research on your own.
You must quit your job immediately. Not because we don’t want you to work. If you choose to work in the future, we will support you one hundred percent. You may work for us or seek employment elsewhere. We don’t intend to hinder your life accomplishments or stifle your intelligence. But we do want to be sure you are employed in a safe, productive environment.
You will commit every moment, beginning Monday morning, to training in our home and under our supervision. The life of a full-time submissive must not be taken lightly. You need training and direction in order to pursue this lifestyle. We will insist you commit to a training period to fully indoctrinate yourself to the lifestyle.
You will meet with our sponsor to work out any issues you might have and clear up any questions. We, too, will be meeting with the sponsor to ensure we are providing the best environment for your training at all times.
You will relinquish control over your life because you know we will take care of every aspect for you.
You will have a safe word, but expect to be pushed outside your boundaries.
You will address us only as Sir and only when we request you to speak. No discussions will be had unless they are initiated by one of us.
If you find these terms satisfactory, please arrive at our apartment, Monday morning no later than eight a.m. to begin your training.
Stephanie, know that we have come to adore you. We want to care for you and help you reach your highest potential within this lifestyle. We are here to guide you and nurture you as you grow and learn.
Sincerely, Aiden and Dane
Stephanie stared at the pages, her hands shaking so badly she could barely read them. But she did. Twice. And then a third time about an hour later.
In the middle of the afternoon, she poured a bowl of cereal and forced herself to consume the bran that wouldn’t go down easily. She was a ball of nerves, but she needed to eat.
Afterward, she curled up on the couch still wearing nothing but the T-shirt and wrapped herself in her favorite afghan. She fell asleep pondering the pros and cons of this commitment and slept for hours.
When she awoke again, it was dark outside. She stretched and then crept back into the kitchen. Her stomach growled, protesting the hunger strike. Thank God for the freezer full of TV dinners.
An hour later, her hunger somewhat abated, she was back in bed, propped against the headboard, her computer open on her lap.
It was time to research. She had two full nights and a day. She intended to spend every second of that time alternating between sleeping and Internet searching. If she was going to quit her job and become a full-time submissive, she sure as hell was going to do it as informed as possible. There’d be no regrets.
Aiden paced back and forth by the front door. He glanced at his watch every few seconds. What if she didn’t show? It was seven fifty-five. They’d told her eight.
“Stop that. It won’t change anything. She’ll be here.” Dane sat on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees.
Aiden knew the man was just as stressed; he just manifested his anxiety differently. “You don’t know that for sure,” he mumbled.
They’d struggled all weekend with their angst, reassuring each other repeatedly to lessen their apprehension. Had they made the right decisions? Had they said everything they could in their own defense?
“I sent our application in to the club Steve recommended, by the way,” Dane said.
“Emergence?”
“Yep. Lori belongs to that one too. She said she’d put in a good word for us. She knows the owner.”
“Did you include Stephanie?” Aiden asked.
“I did.” Dane smiled.
A knock at the door startled Aiden and he jumped in his spot. Relief rushed through him and he rubbed his hands on his jeans to wipe away the sweat.
Dane came to his side and set a hand on his shoulder. “Told you.” He smiled.
Deep breath. Aiden opened the door.
Stephanie stood in the hall, her head bowed, her hair hanging over her face. She trembled. She said nothing.
He almost chuckled at her choice of attire. Sure, she was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, ordinary clothes by most people’s standards. Hell, he and Dane were similarly dressed. But it was comical for a submissive to arrive with so much clothing on.
“We weren’t sure you would show up,” Aiden muttered.
“I wasn’t sure either, Sir. I’ve only just made my decision. I submitted my resignation to Seabring by email about a half hour ago and I’ve been standing in the hall for twenty minutes…building up the courage to knock…Sir.” She exhaled loudly.
Aiden stared at the top of her head. He knew he’d never forget this moment as long as he lived. This precious woman was giving up her control and turning it
over to Aiden and Dane. It was a gift he would forever value and never take for granted. He thanked his lucky stars for the opportunity and stepped back a pace, Dane at his side. “Well, what are we waiting for? Come in.”
About the Author
Becca Jameson lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and two kids. When she isn’t writing, she can be found reading, editing, scrapbooking, running, swimming, biking or taxiing kids all over creation. She doesn’t sleep much…or sit down often…but she loves to be busy! Unlike many other authors, Becca had never written a single word until a few years ago. After enjoying several years on the editing side of the business, Becca decided to give writing a try. Now she can’t stop! And the voices in her head are clamoring to get out faster than she can get them onto “paper”! Still experimenting with both contemporary and paranormal genres, there is no telling what she may come up with next. To learn more about Becca Jameson, visit her blog at www.beccajameson.com, email her at [email protected] or tweet her @beccajameson.
Look for these titles by Becca Jameson
Now Available:
Durham Wolves
Rescue in the Smokies
Fire in the Smokies
Freedom in the Smokies
Coming Soon:
Emergence
Bound to be Tamed
He’s her alpha…and he knows how to push all her hot buttons.
Freedom in the Smokies
© 2013 Becca Jameson
Durham Wolves, Book 3
With a vampire still threatening the family, Micah Durham has no plans to follow his brothers into matehood. In fact, he’d prefer not to expose anyone else—human or shifter—to the dangers they face.
Yet when he returns from visiting a horse buyer, he’s beyond pissed to find his family has hired a new human trainer. A female human trainer whose “I’m your mate” scent steals his power of speech.
Bound to be Taken (Emergence) Page 27