HostileTakeover

by Joey W. Hill

  He was murmuring it to her, his voice a sexy rumble over the phone. She was gasping, telling him she was doing just that. Doing it to empty air, believing it was his cock, and the constricting of the muscles in her rectum were contracting her pussy, rippling along her clit.

  “Ben…Master…” She whispered it, whimpered it. She needed him, needed him. She couldn’t wait another moment for him. She loved him. She needed to serve him, which meant she needed to be good, she needed to wait. But she couldn’t stop moving her hips up and down, up and down, imagining his cock deep inside her, his fingers working in her dripping cunt. “Please…oh God…”

  Stretched out on the bed, nothing touching her but air, her imagination and his voice, she climaxed, a hard pull on her lower abdomen, thighs thrumming with the sensation, pussy spasming. “Oh God…Master…”

  The words he spoke to her didn’t matter. She clung to his voice, the rough edge of it that told her he was working his cock, listening to her come for him. When she came down, far too soon, needing more than just the empty imagining, she held the phone tight, quelling an odd desire to press it against her pussy, the closest she could get to him.

  “You came without permission. I’ll be taking care of that soon.”

  “How soon?” she demanded.

  He gave a low, dangerous chuckle. “Careful what you wish for, brat.”

  * * * * *

  Now it was day twenty-one. While he was merciless, the timeline had given her a blissful light at the end of the tunnel. The note had arrived yesterday, in a box containing a shimmering forest green short robe and matching slippers.

  When you get up Friday morning, you won’t be going into work. Do not shower. Wear only what’s in this box and your nipple and clit jewelry. Unless you get dizzy from it, no food for twelve hours. Sips of water as needed. Whenever you sit or lie down today, your thighs will stay open. When your pussy gets wet (what I’d expect from a shameless slut like yourself), you will not clean your cream off your thighs.

  A limo will pick you up at seven. Make no special preparations. Bring nothing but yourself and this robe. Leave your hair down, no clips or ties. Once you get into the limo, you will not speak unless asked a direct question. Until you see me, no male should touch you. No incidental brush against Lucas at the house, no taking the driver’s hand to get into the limo. Every inch of your soft skin is mine to touch, mine alone. Your Master

  A gardenia tied with a ribbon lay on the top of the robe. She’d brushed the petals over her cheek as she fingered the fabric. The silk was so thin it clung to her hips and breasts like skin. The kids had school, and were going to be picked up afterward by Rachel to go to the movies. With Cass and Lucas at work, Marcie had the house to herself all day.

  She’d planned so hard for this day, had thought about it so long, that she found the reality dizzying. As the clock ticked so slowly toward seven, everything seemed dreamlike. She’d lain out by the pool, watching the clouds move overhead, and held the thought to her like a cherished doll. Ben O’Callahan was in love with her. He was going to claim her as his. Formally, as his submissive, his property. His lover. She knew what that meant to those five men who were an integral part of her blood family.

  She’d refused to let the possibility of failure enter her mind until that dreadful night had forced her to confront the unthinkable. Until then, her certainty that she was meant to be his had driven her forward. With the goal achieved but not consummated, it left her oddly unbalanced, that part of her empty and waiting to be filled with something more substantial.

  Returning to the present, she decided she felt like a harlequin, one half focused as a laser, steady as a rock, the other like nitro trapped in a bottle, ready to explode.

  Putting her hand on her heart, she tapped out that song, I’ll Stand By You, remembering their dance together. It made sense that it came to mind now, because she was standing on the same footbridge. She swayed, replaying the words in her head, so appropriate to everything she’d hoped and dreamed about when it came to Ben.

  “You amaze me.”

  Opening her eyes, she saw her sister at the entrance to the bridge, watching her. She was glad to see Cass a little less tired today. She, Lucas and the others had tried their best to balance her natural need to grieve with distractions, things to keep the ache from being unbearable. It was going to take time, they all knew that, but it was hard to see her sister with that sadness in her eyes so often. Marcie had shed her own tears over Jeremy, but no matter how guilty she felt about it, the truth was Ben’s behavior toward her these past several weeks had kept her preoccupied. She wouldn’t put it past him to have taken into account that side effect. Ruthless Master, merciful lover. Good friend.

  She went to Cass now, held her sister close. “I love you.”

  “I love you too. Don’t you want to know why you amaze me?”

  “Because I’m an incredible sister in all ways and you worship me?”

  “Still not loaning you my Jimmy Choos.”

  “Bitch.”

  Cass grinned, as Marcie had hoped, and eased back. “This is beautiful.” Cass fingered the hem of the robe. “The man does have good taste in clothes.”

  “I know. He’s probably a repressed homosexual.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” Cass snorted, then sobered. “You amaze me because you had such determination, such conviction. You didn’t doubt yourself, or the way you felt for him, no matter how much it looked like an adolescent crush. You knew.”

  Marcie shrugged. “There were times I was afraid I was wrong, from his end of things. But the stories you’ve told me…each of them knowing which woman was the one? There was another side to that. Even though each of you had reasons to resist or doubt the inevitable, it was already inside you too, such that he was able to convince you of it pretty damn quickly. I remember how Dana put it. ‘One look into Peter’s gray eyes and I knew I was fucked. Literally and figuratively.’”

  Cass’ blue eyes twinkled. “Well, the soldier’s as much a part of her as the minister.” Then she grew somber again. “We should have supported you more. It wouldn’t have been as difficult.”

  “No.” Marcie shook her head. “That was part of it. You challenged the premise, tested it, Ben most of all. That’s the way any deal is supposed to go, to make sure it’s solid. And these past three weeks…he’s been wonderful.

  Her sister gave her that penetrating look. “There’s a but in there.”

  “It sounds terrible.” Marcie laughed at herself. “I’m just kind of going crazy, because he’s keeping it to all romantic stuff. Most women complain about guys wanting to have sex and nothing else, but…”

  “I’ve seen some of the romantic things he’s doing.” Cass lifted a brow. “Yes, it does fulfill emotional needs, but at the same time, it keeps a fire going under the physical. They’re very good at that. He wants you worked up to the point you’d jump him on a public street corner if he told you to do so.”

  Marcie blinked at the bald assessment. “He’s doing it intentionally?”

  “Yes, and no. Yes, in that they can’t help themselves. The romantic is integrated with the Dom, and no, in that I do believe he’s truly trying to woo you, the way he knew he should have been doing from the very beginning. More than that, he’s giving you time to trust him again. And maybe time for him to trust himself again as well.”

  Marcie nodded. “Much as I hate to admit it, I probably needed that. I’m not sure if…right after, I would have been ready. There needed to be some time for the air to clear. But honest to God, if he gives me another one of those neck kisses in front of you guys again I’m not going to be responsible for raping him on the kitchen island.”

  Cass put an arm around her, smiling, but then they contemplated the water together. “You had to grow up so fast,” her sister said at last. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  “Ben asked me the same thing. He called at lunch, and he was so gentle. Told me it wouldn’t change anything fo
r him. Said I could have more time if I needed it. But I don’t need more time. I’ve wanted this for so long. I feel like a carnival’s been set up within a stone’s throw of my bedroom window for seven years, but I haven’t been allowed on any of the rides.”

  At Cass’ raised brow, Marcie chuckled. “Okay, maybe that didn’t come out quite right.”

  “Probably came out pretty close.” Cass gave her a teasing pinch. “Just have a care with some of those rides. There are some proprietary clauses involved.”

  Now it was Marcie’s time to get serious. “Cass, we haven’t really talked about it much… It’s more than a little awkward. Lucas—”

  “Don’t.” Cass put her hands on Marcie’s shoulders, gave her a straightforward look. “There’s no shame in it, love. You’ll always be my little sister, which means I’ll always see the child in you, but I also see the woman. This is who and what they are. Lucas and I have talked about it. I’m not confused about what will happen tonight, and his part in it. Of course, I’ve told him any fantasies he might have about some sister-sister action is confined to his late-night cable subscription,” she paused as Marcie choked on a laugh, “but this…this is what we are. I’m mainly worried about you. Are you nervous?”

  “More than I thought possible,” Marcie said wryly. “But I’m really excited too.”

  “All right then. The limo arrived a few minutes ago. That’s why I came out. It’s time to go.”

  Marcie glanced toward the house, felt that trembling in her lower belly. “I don’t know what to expect at all.”

  “You can expect everything, and things you never imagined. That’s the way they work.”

  * * * * *

  Max was her driver tonight, and she gave him a warm smile, remembering his kindness the night at the club. There was no awkwardness about that now. It was past, and she saw he was okay with things as well, no concern in his gaze tonight. He kept his attention courteously on her face as he held the door open for her, though she noted he sneaked a quick, sweeping glance over her nearly bare legs when she took her seat in the limo. It made her feel good. He was a guy, after all, and the robe was designed to highlight her full potential.

  He didn’t hand her into the vehicle as he normally would. That, and the fact they only exchanged nods, told her he had the no-talking and no-touching part of the instructions. She settled into the plush backseat, drawing deep breaths. There was a tray set up with a bowl of strawberries that had been dipped in chocolates of varying shades. Next to them was a thin black eye mask with lacings to hold it snug on the bridge of her nose and against the eyes. She read the notecard next to it.

  Put on the mask, lace it tight, so you can see nothing. You may touch and smell the strawberries, but do not taste.

  Picking up the mask in fingers that trembled, she followed the direction. The smell of the strawberries was too good to resist, so she lifted one, inhaled deeply. Oh wow. Ben had done these himself. She knew it, because Dana had talked about the night she was first shared with all of them. How they’d brought the juiciest, largest strawberries she’d ever tasted, coated in a chocolate that was as much an orgasm for the nose as the tongue. Peter’s wife had learned later Ben had hand-dipped them himself in a special mixture of dark chocolates, vanilla and spices.

  The richness of it brought saliva to Marcie’s tongue. There was white chocolate, vanilla, butterscotch…praline coating. The evil man knew she lived for dessert. Her tongue longed to taste, her stomach rumbling, but she didn’t.

  His directions, so simple and straightforward, had nevertheless kept her in a state of wet longing through most of the day. With every hour that passed, she was more aware of her body. She wished he’d let her shower. She wasn’t grungy, but it felt odd to come to him with hair that had been combed but not styled. She would have touched up her nails, done her makeup. Just as he’d anticipated, her arousal had formed damp tracks on her thighs more than once today, drying there. To heightened male senses, she would smell like what she was. A female in raging heat.

  She kept picking up the different strawberries, smelling each. The flavors seemed designed to stir her arousal further. She tried hard to hold them by the greenery at top, but she managed to get some of the melting chocolate on her fingertips. She couldn’t find a towel or wipe, which left only the robe or the seat. Realizing it would qualify as tasting, she stopped with her hand halfway to her lips. Instead, she left her hands in a half curl on her parted thighs.

  She couldn’t ask Max where she might find a napkin, of course. For a devilish moment, she imagined extending her fingers over the seat back, a mute request that he oblige her with his mouth. She was sure that would break Ben’s rules on several different levels, particularly the no-male-touching rule.

  Another time, she might do it, because she had a sense of what kind of infractions Ben would enjoy punishing her for, but this was not that day. Playtime and challenges weren’t part of this. All balls were now in Ben’s court. In truth, she was more anxious than she’d let on to Cass. Because she’d had to fight so hard for her objective, she’d never completely surrendered herself the way she knew would happen tonight, the way a submissive was supposed to do. She hungered hard for it to come from Ben, but the reality was pretty unnerving.

  She wanted to please him. Wanted to feel that sense of completion, of total belonging. She was as nervous about this night as a virgin on her wedding night. To her, it was the same, the level of commitment, the sense of no turning back.

  While the physical was a big part of tonight, in the past three weeks, he hadn’t neglected the emotional framework that would propel the physical to go to a far more intense level than she’d yet experienced, God help her. She remembered what Rachel and Dana had said about Ben taking a woman’s soul, never her heart, because that meant he had to give her his.

  If she read all the signals right, it would be a mutual exchange tonight. Ever since the day on the dock, he’d been cautiously handing her pieces of his heart, of who he was, and she cherished all of it. Holding the white-chocolate strawberry now, she remembered helping him prepare for that dinner with the others. As always, he’d gone through her grocery selections with meticulous care, but he’d taught her well. Everything was fresh. While he cut a cucumber, she’d asked him, “What made you want to learn to cook like this?”

  Instead of a casual answer, like “I like food”, he’d paused, knife in one hand, eyes on the vegetable he was slicing. “I know what it’s like to be so hungry you’ll eat garbage, Marcie. I know why Scarlett O’Hara felt the way she did.”

  Quiet, matter-of-fact. Honest. It was all he’d said, but she was fine with that. She didn’t mind learning about his life in small pieces, if that was easier for him, and it gave her something new to discover every day. She’d slipped her arms around him, put her cheek to his back, just like she’d done on the balcony that night. Putting his hand over hers, he clasped them against his sternum, then he’d turned and fed her the cucumber piece, pleased when she said she liked the marinade he’d brushed over it.

  The car stopped, bringing her back to the present. When the door opened, she sensed she was being studied. She lifted her chin, straightened her back.

  “Take off the robe. Leave the slippers on for now. Come to me.”

  Ben’s voice. It was like feeling rain on her face after the heat of a drought. She smiled at him, she couldn’t help it. Slipping the tie carefully, so she didn’t transfer the stickiness of her fingers to it, she shrugged the silk off her shoulders, let it pool on her hips. As she moved across the seat toward his voice, he touched her arm. Since she wasn’t allowed to speak, she couldn’t warn him about the chocolate. But he’d already seen it. He took her wrist, not her hand, and when he helped her out of the vehicle, he brought her fingers to his mouth.

  It was incredibly intense, feeling that stimulation after a full day of waiting, imagining. The sight deprivation made it even more excruciating. She made a yearning noise as the wet heat of his mouth clos
ed over each of the affected digits, his tongue swirling her clean.

  “Did you taste any?”

  “No, Master.” She was standing naked before him, with no idea where she was, except she was outside, not in a parking deck. In the distance, she could hear cars, so they weren’t in a secluded environment. The echo suggested they were surrounded by buildings…perhaps a side street. But it didn’t matter. With the blindfold on, she was entirely at his mercy, and her mind settled into that mode, completely his. His.

  “Lift your chin. This is temporary.”

  He buckled the slim collar on her, and she felt the tug of a tether snapped to it. “Follow my lead.”

  “Always, Master.”

  There was a pause at that, then the pressure increased. She stepped forward. It wasn’t easy to walk normally when she couldn’t see him, but she did her best, felt his hand brush her hip, guide and steady her to walk up two flights of steps. Then they were inside. The echo of the door closing suggested a large, open room. Maybe a loft? It had that old brick smell. Probably his place in the Warehouse District. She’d never been to that one.

  “Take off the slippers. Kneel, submissive posture.”

  Folding her legs beneath her, she put her hands behind her back, kept her spine straight. Opened her knees. He let the leash drop so it dangled loosely between her breasts, down into that spread area.

  “I’m putting your mind in the right place for becoming my property, now and forever. I’m going to immobilize you in a latex vacuum bed. It’s like a cocoon, and has some nice modifications, thanks to Jon. I will decide when you’ve been in it long enough. I will not speak to you, but I will be here, watching you, checking your breathing. You will never be alone. You understand?”