Coveted (Pandora's Playground #1)

by Alannah Lynne

  He studied her for a moment before drawing in a deep breath of his own. Then he pushed into a sitting position, swung his legs over the side, and let them dangle from the edge of the table.

  Dammit, she’d blown it again.

  But rather than bolt for the door as she expected, he shocked her stupid when he took hold of her wrist and pulled her to him so she stood in the cradle of his thighs. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  His words caused her breath to hitch, and that was before he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. But then, in the next breath, he straightened his arms to put distance between them and slid off the table.

  “Thanks for the massage. I can’t believe how loose and relaxed my shoulders are.”

  She tried not to let her disappointment show as he grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, then set about fastening his buttons. When he finished and turned to face her, she was surprised to find his expression calm, his demeanor still relaxed.

  Leaning forward so his lips brushed her temple, then the shell of her ear, he whispered, “Tell Germaine he’s no longer your last appointment on Saturday nights. I am.”

  And with that, he walked out of the room, down the hallway, and disappeared into the lobby. A second later, the door opened, but before it closed again, he yelled, “I’ll be waiting in my car to make sure you get out safely. Good night, angel.”

  It took her a good thirty seconds to process everything that happened in the last two minutes. And another thirty seconds before her legs found the strength to get moving so she could strip the sheets and put on a clean set for her first client on Tuesday.

  Was he coming back because he saw the benefits of massage? Or was he coming back because he wanted to spend more time with her? Did his reasoning matter?

  Nope… not at all. He was coming back, and that was all the encouragement she needed.

  Chapter 11

  The following week was a topsy-turvy roller coaster for Muriel. She kept busier than usual on Sunday and Monday, leaving her minimal time to think about her upcoming birthday. Overall, she thought she was doing pretty well with moving on—her time at the club and again on Saturday with Mathew proved as much. But she supposed there would always be certain things she missed.

  Knowing she wouldn’t wake to the smell of bacon or Ian’s off-key singing kept her teetering on the edge of depression. And while she tried not to let it get her down, it was difficult not to fall into a major funk when she woke to heavy clouds and a cold, driving rain.

  Focusing on her clients kept her thoughts from spinning like an out-of-control hamster on a busted wheel, but as she prepared to head home, her mood again declined. Since it was Tuesday—her night to work late—she wondered if she would see Mathew, but she immediately dismissed the thought. While he would’ve made a nice diversion, it wasn’t her nature to frown in public, nor did she want to expend the energy to put on a good front.

  But when she stepped into the lobby and found a massive arrangement of wildflowers sitting on the corner table, her mood once again escalated. Without even looking at the card, she knew Mathew was responsible. A lump formed in her throat and tears stung her eyes as she ran her finger across the indention left in the card by his heavy hand.

  Happy birthday, angel.

  The card and sentiment were simple and almost understated in comparison to the riotous confusion of flowers. But showing her he cared through actions and expression, rather than words, seemed to be Mathew’s way.

  She briefly debated—leave them for her clients to enjoy or take them home. She settled on taking them home because she didn’t want to explain where they came from, but if completely honest, she also didn’t want to share her special gift with anyone.

  She tucked the card into her pocket, positioned the keys in her hand so she could lock the deadbolt, then wrapped both arms around the ginormous vase. After locking up, she turned on the top step and faced Mathew, who sat in his usual spot across the lot by the dumpster.

  She contemplated walking over to thank him but then thought about Lucas’s comparison to a wild animal. She remembered the way the stray cat from her childhood would sneak onto the porch and drink the cream her mother set out, then turn and run back to the safety of its hiding place.

  Mathew let her get closer than she expected the previous Saturday when she tossed out the idea of a massage, but on Tuesday, he was back to the safety of his hiding place. Not wanting to push, but also wanting him to know how much she appreciated his gift, she made a big production of squeezing her arms together, as if wrapping the vase in a hug while giving him a bright smile. After his lights flickered once, acknowledging her, she drove home, feeling lighter than she had in days.

  She didn’t see or hear from him the rest of the week, but that didn’t stop her from remembering the vulnerability in his eyes while confessing he didn’t hate her or recalling his rough command to see him as she came apart in his arms.

  On the previous Saturday, she offered the massage because she wanted to do something nice. She hadn’t wanted or expected anything in return, but since then, she’d grown increasingly desperate for more—more hungry looks… more sizzling strokes… more commands from his sensual mouth.

  She understood his reasons and respected the hell out of him for keeping his distance while she was married to Ian. But he’d been gone nearly a year, and she didn’t understand why Mathew still seemed so hesitant to acknowledge his feelings or accept the possibility of a future with her.

  She’d obviously done a poor job of judging his thoughts and feelings over the years, but hopefully, his coming back was a positive sign of his willingness to build on what they started the previous weekend.

  She considered turning the spare room into a special space just for Mathew—complete with candles and various items that could be used for massage therapy or play. But that felt more like manipulation than seduction, and since she wasn’t comfortable with either, she let the idea go.

  She did, however, get a full body wax, bought a new dress, and left her bra and panties in the drawer while dressing this morning since most Doms preferred their subs to go without. If asked, she would have to confess to positive thinking and acting as if she were already his. But if things progressed that far, she hoped he would be too distracted by her nakedness to care why she came to work dressed as such.

  While it seemed like a great idea at nine o’clock this morning, the trickle of desire currently running down her inner thigh had her cursing her optimism. She’d been unprepared for the steady flow of cool air brushing across her sensitive skin or the constant reminder of Mathew. By the time she finished with Carl, she was so anxious to see Mathew, she could barely contain her excitement.

  “Any chance you’d be more interested in dinner tonight than you were last week?” Carl asked, readjusting the buckle on his belt as he emerged from the bathroom.

  She bit her lip as her gaze fell to his belt and a flutter of nerves took flight in her stomach. She was in such a highly aroused state, his belt inspired images of Mathew using one to restrain or lightly spank her. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps and sweat tickled the back of her neck as she gulped and squeezed her thighs together while dragging her gaze back up to Carl’s face.

  He was impossibly charming, smiling at her with a mixture of boyish hope and mischievousness. Too bad she preferred the dark, dangerous type.

  “Mathew’s taking the last appointment on Saturdays now, so I’ll have to pass.”

  “I see.” Carl nodded his head and maintained his smile, but she caught the disappointment in his eyes. “All right, then. I’ll be on my way. Have a good night.”

  She took a few moments to gather herself, then went to the lobby for Mathew. He sat on the couch, arms stretched across the back, an ankle crossed over his knee, appearing relaxed and at ease while completely dominating the space, which was probably his intention. Carl was a smart guy, but even a dimwit would
understand Mathew wasn’t just a client. He was a man staking his claim.

  But why? What did it mean? Was he open to exploring a more intimate relationship?

  His demeanor, as well as the possessiveness in his heavy-lidded gaze, gave the impression something had changed. And as he swept his tongue across his lower lip, like a panther might before devouring a meal, nervous energy zinged through her and shot out through her trembling fingers.

  Lucas was right. She needed to get back into the lifestyle, but now she had a new problem. No other Dominant would do. Mathew was the only man she wanted to look up to from a kneeling position at his feet. And as he stood and prowled toward her with a Dominant vibe rolling off him, a wellspring of hope rose in her chest.

  Stopping in front of her, he teased a finger down the side of her cheek before lifting her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. “Good evening, angel.”

  Mathew’s instincts had been right on the mark. One hit of Muriel had been life changing, but surprisingly, her emotional impact was as potent, if not more so, as the physical. Every day, he found himself walking around in a kind of altered state, viewing the world differently because of her influence.

  One evening, while running on the beach, he decided to try and view the world and his life through Muriel’s eyes. Taking a general approach to suddenly see the world differently was daunting, so he started at the beginning and imagined how Muriel would react if introduced to Mommy Dearest.

  Muriel always recognized the best in people—a gift as well as a fault to his way of thinking. She would probably embrace his birth mother and thank her for carrying him to term rather than ending the pregnancy. The terms of his adoption were less than ideal—not to mention illegal as shit—but apparently, there had been other children at home and money was tight, so… Yeah, he could understand how she viewed him as nothing more than a commodity to be sold for a pile of cash.

  By the time he returned home that evening, not only were his legs burning from the extra-long run, but his mind also sizzled from the extra load. He’d regurgitated a lot of shit that evening and feared he might never get to sleep. But he was so emotionally exhausted, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he drifted off to sleep and awoke feeling more refreshed than he had in years—maybe ever.

  Wondering if the same exercise would work with his adoptive parents, he set out on a similar run the following night. Muriel would never condone his father’s criminal activities, but she probably wouldn’t rush to judgment either. Using the same pattern as the night before, he wondered what good or decent quality Muriel would find in his father.

  It took a while to find the answer, but he finally realized while buying a baby on the black market was wrong, illegal, immoral, and likely a million other things, his father had acted out of love and a desire to please his wife.

  Because of an untreated childhood infection, his father was sterile, so his parents never discussed having kids. His mother came from a large Catholic family, so his father assumed she also wanted a houseful of kids. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. His mother was child number two in a line of thirteen and had no desire to change another diaper or soothe a teething baby.

  Lack of communication between his adoptive parents brought him into a household where he wasn’t wanted. However, they kept him rather than disposing of him—something that would’ve been easy enough for his father to accomplish.

  They hired nannies to care for him, sent him to the best private schools in the area—which was where he met Ian—then sent him to college and on to law school. They saw to his needs until he could fend for himself, and for that, he owed them his gratitude.

  When he woke the next morning, the tight knots that usually kept his insides twisted like a pretzel were gone, and he found himself able to take a deep breath… followed by another… followed by another. The sunlight seemed brighter, the ocean waves bluer, and as he patted his face after shaving, he seemed to have more feeling. The numbness that accompanied him his entire life had started to wear off the same way a shot of Novocain wore off after a trip to the dentist.

  He did the exercise a third time, that night focusing on previous coworkers, current coworkers, and past D/s relationships. And while he succeeded in clearing up a lot of crap in his life, he was fully aware of avoiding the one relationship that mattered most—his relationship with Muriel, specifically his three-way relationship with Ian and Muriel.

  But as his numbness toward life began to wear off, he grew more fearful of examining that relationship too closely. Watching Muriel with Ian had been so painful it nearly killed him. And now, he realized, he’d been mostly numb the whole time. If he’d been a fully functioning adult capable of experiencing the spectrum of emotions? Shit…

  However, in the way every addict knew their actions were wrong and would eventually lead to their demise, he couldn’t stop himself from coming back for another hit. Like a junkie desperate to justify their actions—even if only to themselves to tolerate looking in the mirror—he worked out all the angles of his proposed arrangement so Muriel benefited as well as him.

  He needed her like he needed air, and she’d confessed on Friday she needed a Dom. He still wasn’t sure how he would handle it when the time came for her to find a permanent Master and husband. But the mind was a fascinating tool and remarkably adept at fabricating excuses while working out logistics to get a person on board with a plan they knew would be detrimental to their overall well-being.

  In the short term, the arrangement would be perfect for both of them. In the long term, when she was ready to settle down with a new husband—

  His mind shut down, blocking further thought on the subject. Like anything else in life, he’d deal with that particular devastation when the time came. For now, if she agreed, he’d be the best damn Dom possible, because Muriel didn’t deserve anything less.

  He hadn’t spoken to her about his plan; he’d just shown up with his Dom face on to get an honest reaction from her. Her stuttered breath drawn through parted lips… the flush crawling across her neck and cheeks… her dilated pupils as well as the erratic pulse flickering in her neck all told him, at least on a physical level, she was happy to see Master Mathew.

  The corner of his mouth lifted as he trailed his finger down the side of her cheek. But the playful smile fell from his face and his heart kicked solidly in his chest as she closed her eyes and tilted her head, pressing her cheek into his finger while also exposing her vulnerable neck.

  While he’d been confident she would agree to the plan, a small part of him still feared rejection. But as her nipples tightened and pushed against the thin fabric of her dress—revealing she wasn’t wearing a bra—he inwardly rejoiced and outwardly hardened. Later, they’d sit down and discuss his proposal. For now, he wanted to push and see how far she’d go.

  “Are you ready for me?” He intended the question to be double-sided: Was she ready to begin his massage? Was she ready to do so as a submissive serving a Dominant?

  She blinked and swallowed roughly, then dropped her gaze to the floor. “Yes, Sir.” As she turned and walked away, she muttered, “At least I thought I was.”

  He laughed to himself as he locked the door then followed along behind. Last week, as he walked this same stretch of hallway, there wasn’t a question who led who. This week, however, even though she walked in front, they both knew he was in control, and a voracious hunger to possess and consume overtook him.

  Mine.

  He didn’t want to just dominate her physically; he wanted to crawl so fucking deep inside her she forgot what life was like without him.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  That thinking would only cause trouble for both of them, but he couldn’t cut it off at the knees. His ravenous need was so strong, he had to stop and draw in a few controlled breaths.

  Now that his emotions had been released, the damn things were like unruly toddlers let outside to play after spending days inside because of rain. It would take a while to
get them back under control, especially where Muriel was concerned.

  The massage room was the same as the previous week, except for a burning candle on the desk. Drawing in a deep breath, he said, “The candle smells good. What kind is it?”

  Her smile carried a hint of mischievousness as she said, “Lavender and vanilla. It helps with relaxation.”

  “Maybe I should burn a half dozen or so around my office.”

  She laughed, as he hoped, then licked her lips and glanced nervously around the room. “Okay, well… assuming you want a full massage tonight…” His body tightened another notch as her gaze slid from his chest all the way down to his feet. “I’ll slip out so you can undress—”

  “No.” He shook his head and stepped closer. Holding her gaze while he toed off his shoes and removed his socks, he said, “You’ll stay here while I undress.”

  Normally, he would assign the sub the task of undressing him, but he wanted to tease Muriel much like she had at the club. And as her lips parted and her eyes turned glassy, his body grew tight, like a snake ready to strike.

  When he finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled the tail from his pants, she reached behind her, fumbled around until she found the edge of the massage table, then gripped it tight while leaning against it, like her legs wouldn’t hold her weight.

  Damn if her strong reaction didn’t crank up his blood pressure and heart rate to dangerous levels. He’d never been overly prideful, but her hungry appreciation made him want to spend every spare minute he wasn’t at work or buried inside her at the gym pumping iron.

  As her chest continued to expand and contract with heavy inhalations, his inclination was to order her to keep her eyes on his face. But he wanted her burning for him, so he allowed her visual perusal of his chest and abs to continue. As he pushed down his pants and boxers and his raging erection jumped free, she gasped and pressed a hand to her chest, then licked her lips.