Bondage And Bureaucracy

by Rynne Raines

  Harrison took another swig of his coffee, gaze suddenly drawn to the streaks of mascara running over Fiona’s high cheekbones. He imagined those streaks resulting from tears not rain, tears from him taking her over his knee and spanking her round, naked bottom until she begged him to stop. He was sure a few good smacks would bring her to her limit. When it did, he would finger her pussy, maybe even her ass until she uncontrollably came all over his hand. Then, he would fuck her.

  A shudder undulated through the muscles in his back and he bit back a groan. Christ. Only a madman would entertain the idea of dominating the Governor of Maine’s vanilla daughter, not to mention one of his running opponent’s ex-wife. If the pretty little socialite had any idea the depravity going through his mind, she’d bolt for the hills.

  But what if she didn’t?

  “I’m sorry, that’s probably none of my business,” said Fiona, breaking into his thoughts and offering what looked like a very forced, very awkward smile. “Forget I even asked.”

  Like a deer in headlights, Harrison stared. Had she been talking the entire time? Shit. He frowned. Lack of attentiveness toward women had never been on his list of shortcomings. Abstinence was turning him into an asshole.

  That’s it, after his afternoon meetings, he was going to the club whether it was a good idea or not.

  “Forgive me,” he apologized. “I just flew in from upstate an hour ago, and I obviously haven’t got my head back in the game yet. You were saying?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” she insisted. “I was just being nosey.”

  “Please, ask. It’ll help me feel like less of a jackass for the side trip.”

  The tension in her features softened and smoothed, and she genuinely smiled. She looked pretty when she smiled. Pretty and vulnerable. In the ten years they’d been acquainted, this might have been the first time he’d ever really looked at her.

  “I was just wondering what you were doing so far from city hall.”

  “My apartment’s two blocks south of here. Figured a little extra pep in my step wouldn’t hurt my afternoon meetings.” He held the coffee up. “Also, according to my brother, I’ve got a proposal and a speech to go over before Monday morning so it could be a long weekend.”

  “That’s right,” she said, wagging her coffee at him. “You’re attempting to fast track the clean energy bill. I admire your ambition, a brilliant move but ballsy. If you fail, it could cost you the election, but if you succeed, you’ll be a shoe in for Senate.”

  Now wasn’t she a clever girl? Tongue in cheek, he fought off a grin, then replied. “It’s the right move for the public, Miss McBride.”

  “Of course it is, Councilman.” She offered a knowing smile. “That’s the beauty of it.”

  Fiona Mcbride was not just another pretty face.

  “Most everyone I know only sees the headline. Clearly you see all the dominos,” he admitted and watched the smile reach all the way to her eyes. “Though, I wouldn’t call it ballsy as much as calculated.”

  “Regardless of what you want to call it, I wish you the best of luck.” She shivered and her hands disappeared into the sleeves of his oversized jacket.

  “Look at you, you’re freezing. Here, take this one, too.” He set down his cup and began shrugging off his suit coat.

  “No. No, please. This is more than generous enough. I’m on a flight back to Maine Monday morning, but I promise to get it cleaned and sent back to you.”

  The governor’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary was next weekend he remembered and wondered if his secretary was on top of sending a gift.

  “Don’t worry about the coat. Looks better on you than it does on me.”

  “Oh? Well, thank you.” She smiled shyly and shifted her glance toward the window. “It looks like the rain has stopped. I should probably go out and flag a cab before it starts to pour again. It was good running into you, Councilman. You’re sure about the coat?”

  “Keep it.”

  “If you insist. Take care of yourself.”

  “You, too.”

  Harrison walked over to the window. The wind was so strong stray pieces of trash were fluttering along the sidewalk where Fiona stood curbside, one arm extended in the air. Even from twenty feet, he could see her shivering. If she stood out there for long, she’d catch her death. This was ridiculous. What type of man leaves a woman drenched head to toe out in this type of weather? Not a very good man, he decided and strode for the door.

  “Come on.” He grasped Fiona by the elbow and steered her away from the curb. “You’re coming home with me.”

  Wide, green eyes stared up at him. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ll catch pneumonia out here before you catch a cab. You can call one from my place.”

  When she continued to hesitate, he tightened his hold on her like he would a stubborn submissive and dragged her alongside him.

  “What about your meeting?”

  “I’ve got an hour,” he told her. “That leaves me plenty of time to give you the tour and something to wear while your clothes dry. When you’re finished, you can lock the door when you leave.”

  They made it a few more steps before she yanked her arm free and stopped. The thin little thing was stronger than she looked, Harrison mused, staring down into a perplexed set of features.

  “Listen, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but maybe you should think about what you’re doing, Councilman.” She frowned. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned how someone seeing us in public together might affect your reputation this close to election time?”

  Her eyes darted around like a nervous rabbit, and he realized she held more concern for his political reputation than she did for her own wellbeing. A twinge of irritation for her lack of regard for her own welfare stirred in him, and yet, at the same time he felt something else. Endeared. In this day and age, selflessness was not a quality he encountered often, and he genuinely admired it.

  As he contemplated what she’d asked, she looked up at him with eyes so green he wondered how he’d never really noticed how pretty they were before now.

  Was he concerned about someone seeing them together and rushing off to the media with a speculative story that could negatively affect his career? A little. But not as concerned as he was about how he was going to keep his hands off of her and his dick out of her once they were alone in his apartment.

  “If my reputation is so fragile that it can’t handle me not letting you freeze to death on the side of the street, I shouldn’t be running for Senate after all.” He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and started to walk. This time, she didn’t argue.

  ****

  Daniel Forrester shouldered through the revolving doors of the Harthworth building and wrinkled his nose at the stench that wafted up from the street. New York was a goddamn sewer of a city. If it weren’t for the easily swayed voting public here, he would have packed up and run for Senate elsewhere.

  “Filthy shithole,” he muttered and gave his foot a shake when a discarded tissue stuck to the toe of his three hundred dollar shoes. “Fuck, I hate this place.”

  He kicked out his leg a little harder and the sopping tissue flung off and up, smacking him square in the face. Disgusted, he swiped furiously at the water in his eye, then completely froze. What the fuck?

  Jaw dropping, he cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. There was no mistaking who the carrot orange hair across the street belonged to, but what the hell was she doing alongside Lancaster…

  She’s probably been screwing him all along, not to mention feeding him information on the campaign… No wonder he’s beating me in the popularity vote!

  Daniel snapped his mouth shut, rage boiling over as the two turned the corner. Did the little bitch think she could make a fool of him and get away unscathed? Oh, she had another thing coming. He would make her pay. He would make both of them pay…dearly.

  Chapter Three

  For the second time in under an hour, Fiona anxiously watched t
he numbers above an elevator door climb. Similar to earlier, her stomach was in knots, the hairs on the back of her neck were standing at attention, and her heart raced a mile per minute. There was one stark difference, however; this time those symptoms were not because the man beside her made her skin crawl.

  She stole a sidelong glance at Harrison across the elevator, and her stomach somersaulted.

  God is tempting me, she thought, clenching her teeth. All because she’d sworn off politicians. Forcing her eyes to the floor, she chewed her lower lip. What higher power wouldn’t get a kick out of sticking her inside an eight by eight metal box with the most deadly attractive man in politics? Angels were probably taking odds on whether or not she would jump him before they reached his floor.

  “Something wrong?” His deep voice resonated even sexier with the acoustics inside the elevator and she wanted to curse him for it.

  “No.” She shook her head but kept her eyes forward. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  Other than the fact I haven’t had sex in six years and could probably reach orgasm by rubbing up against you a few times. Oh, and that the idea is growing more tempting by the minute.

  He touched her shoulder, and an electrical current shot all the way to her toes. He turned her toward him. Heavy brow knitted, he scanned her with concerned grayish-blue eyes.

  “You’re sure you’re all right? Your face is quite flushed.”

  You don’t say? You should feel how hot a few other places are. Fiona arched an eyebrow, then quickly jerked it back down.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “It’s probably a combination of these wet clothes and the change in temperature from outside to inside. Once I’m out of my clothes and into yours, I’ll be as good as new.”

  Arching an eyebrow, he sent her a look so smoldering, steam should have been rising from her collar. Suddenly realizing what she’d said, her eyes widened.

  “Um…n—not the…not the clothes you’re wearing.” Her face burned. “Other clothes. The ones you were going to lend me.”

  “Of course.”

  The ghost of a wicked smile touched his sensual lips, and she desperately wanted to know how they would feel on hers. She wanted to know the taste and texture of his tongue as it stabbed in and out of her mouth. The simple intimacy of the thought sent a tremor rumbling through her. No doubt kissing Harrison would bring on an explosion of short term gratification, but she hadn’t gone head to head with Daniel and enraged her mother and father on a mission for temporary satisfaction. She deserved more than that.

  She deserved to be with someone who knew who she really was and accepted her. Although she’d pretended to be something else for so long she wasn’t entirely sure who she was, jumping into the sack with another stuffy politician hardly seemed like a destination she should stop at on her soul searching journey.

  They reached the twenty-sixth floor and stepped off, turning left down the hall.

  “I really do appreciate this.” Fiona doubled the speed of her shorter steps to keep up with his long strides. “I wasn’t exactly looking forward to an hour cab ride in sopping wet clothes.”

  “You’re still in Valhalla then?” he asked, withdrawing a ring of keys from his slacks pocket.

  “Up until this morning. After we signed the papers, I decided it was probably best to stay at a hotel until my flight leaves Monday morning. I’ll stay in Maine until I’ve settled on a new place. I was just going to go back for my suitcase; it’s still at the house.”

  “After you.”

  She acknowledged his gesture with an appreciative smile and made the transition from gray carpet onto stylish, travertine tile. Even from the entranceway, it was obvious Harrison kept his living space nothing short of immaculate and organized. Careful not to disturb the order of things, she toed off her high heels and set them on a wire-framed rack next to several pairs of loafers, all equally spaced apart and arranged by color.

  She was wrong before. He wasn’t the type of man who ironed his sheets. He was the type of man who sent them off to be dry cleaned twice a week.

  “Make yourself at home. I’ll find you something to wear.”

  He disappeared down the hall, and the urge to snoop became too strong to ignore. A sugary, gold path of sunlight led her across dark hardwood, by the kitchen island where she set her things. She continued down two steps into a sunken sitting room boasting of floor-to-ceiling twin balcony windows that looked out onto the south side of New York.

  Other than the stone fireplace and plush cream hearth rug, his furnishings were mostly mahogany redwood and black leather. A few crooked magazines on the coffee table and a used glass on the kitchen counter were the only indication the place was lived in at all. Maybe he preferred it that way—sterile and perfect. She wondered if he liked his women that way, too.

  Stuffing the question into the back of her mind, she moved over to an impressive bookshelf. She took her time perusing the titles of his vast literary collection and wondered how many of the titles he’d actually read. Daniel’s collection was nearly as large and she knew damned well he’d never cracked a single edition. It was all for the sake of appearances.

  Brow creased, she stepped closer and leaned in for a better look. “Dear God,” she murmured, a slow giggle working its way up her throat. “The man has them alphabetized.”

  “They’re easier to find that way.”

  As the low whisper of Harrison’s breath tickled her ear, Fiona gasped and quickly turned. So quickly that her stocking-clad feet gave way to the smooth polish of the floor, and her legs shot out from under her. She saw a lofty ceiling, too stunned to admire it. Then, she was falling.

  As if in slow motion, she could feel her lungs pausing on their next breath, feel her heart contracting a mere moment before it expanded. Hitting the floor was seriously going to hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut and threw her arms behind her to brace the impact.

  But there was no impact.

  Two strong arms wrapped around her and jerked her body to a halt, saving her from landing flat on her back. She opened her eyes, half expecting to see that lofty ceiling but saw Harrison’s face instead.

  He frowned down at her, tension lines gathered around his handsome mouth. This was the closest she’d ever been to him. From this distance, his eyes were more blue than gray. He breathed with his lips parted just enough to reveal the straight line of his perfectly white front teeth. His nose was too straight to have ever been broken, and the muscle in his jaw slightly protruded, which made her wonder if he didn’t grind his teeth in his sleep.

  From a distance, Harrison Lancaster was attractive. Up close, he was stunning.

  His warmth breath coasted over her mouth like a magnet drawing her in. Maybe her brain had decided sex with another politician wasn’t on her agenda for today, but her body had other plans.

  “Slippery floors,” she murmured, trembling in his arms. “Maybe you should have a sign or something.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Wear stockings at your own risk?”

  A smile dawned and died on his lips. “I’ll make a note.”

  Her poor timing for humor didn’t diminish the heat in his gaze or loosen his hold on her body. His attention shifted, slowly, from her lips to her eyes then back to her lips. He seemed captivated by her mouth. Maybe he had a different use for it in mind?

  She squirmed and then froze as his hardness pressed intimately against her upper thigh. Lust swelled in her pussy. She licked her lips, wondering how his rigid cock would taste on her tongue.

  She’d always loved the harsh rasp a man made just before he came. Knowing that she had the skills to cause such a raw, animalistic sound made her feel beautiful, desired, and wicked. Few things in life could make a woman feel more deliciously wicked than a man clenching her hair while the head of his thick cock pounded the back of her throat. She bit back a moan.

  Flashes of the last time her palms sweated, knees shook, and pussy ached bombarded her and panic constricted her chest. It w
as before her parents discovered her dirty little secret, before she was shipped away to an all-girl private school, before she gave in to her father’s wishes and married Daniel. She closed her eyes and quickly locked the memories back in her personal vault. She was good at that, at locking things away.

  Oh God, maybe I’m not ready for this.

  “I should probably get dressed,” she whispered, regret underlining her sensible tone.

  “Probably,” he agreed, but didn’t let her go immediately. His large hands lingered. Strong fingers played slowly along each vertebra as he eased her away from him, and then withdrew. He bent and picked up the robe he’d dropped in his effort to catch her.

  “You’ll swim in this but you would in everything else I have, too.”

  With a shaky hand, she curled her fingers into the dry terry cloth. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

  “Bathroom is through the kitchen and down the hall, third door on the right. Laundry is next to it. Help yourself to whatever you need. My brother has my extra key, so just pop the bottom lock when you leave.”

  “You’re very kind for doing this.” She offered a soft smile and a nod. “I owe you one.”

  Harrison wanted to growl as he watched Fiona walk away. His gaze followed the seductive sway of her slender hips up three stairs into the kitchen and then down the hall. She took small, careful, and considered steps. Hesitant steps. He flexed his jaw and shifted to relieve the pressure from the savage hard-on jammed against his fly. If he was a selfish prick, he’d jog up those steps behind her, grab a fistful of that beautiful, long, red hair, and bend her over his kitchen table. She wouldn’t stop him. He’d seen surrender in her pretty green eyes.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t the degree of her willingness that prevented him from going after her. His one month absence from the club had left him with a mountain of sexual frustration. Having to hold back and restrain himself with a pretty little thing like Fiona would be worse than abstaining. He was a Dom. Just as he respected the personal preference for bondage, ball gags, and blindfolds, he also respected those who chose a more conventional approach to sex. Not everyone enjoyed submission and domination, toys and rough sex.