by Rynne Raines
“I don’t lurk,” he replied in a flat tone. “We ran into each other at that little coffee shop across the street. Unlike you, I apparently have impeccable timing.”
“It’s not funny.”
“Am I laughing?”
“No, but you sure as hell aren’t acting like you understand the severity of this situation.”
Harrison rolled his eyes, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and went to the sink to fill it with water while his brother continued to stare daggers at him. Though younger by four years, Marc had always been the worrier of the two. It’s what made him a great campaign manager and a royal pain in his ass.
Finally running out of muttered curses, Marc rubbed the back of his neck, gave his head a shake, and seemed to somewhat collect himself. “Okay. Okay, there’s no damage done yet. All we have to do is get her out of here without anyone seeing her. I’ll go down and pull the car around and you—”
“She’s not going anywhere.”
“What the hell do you mean she’s not going anywhere? Looked to me like you were done.”
Harrison narrowed his eyes. “Watch your step, little brother.”
“Listen, I just—”
“No. You listen.” Patience on empty, he squared off with his brother and spoke slowly. “I don’t know how you treat your women. Frankly, that’s your business. But me, I don’t fuck a woman and then shove her out the goddamn door like she’s no better than last week’s trash. Especially not one as unique, lovely, and respectable as Fiona. So, if you’ve got a problem with her being here, you know where the fucking door is.”
Marcus frowned and shook his head lightly. “Okay. Okay, I was out of line. It’s not as if I don’t like her. We’ve only met a handful of times at fundraisers or debates, but I’ve always known she deserved better than Forrester. Hell, her political prowess and public speaking are half the reason Daniel has been able to maintain his position at all. The other half being her father’s support.”
Harrison scowled. “Agreed.”
“Look, I know how hard you’ve worked to get to this point and how badly you want to win this thing. It’s the only reason I flew off the handle. I reacted badly.”
Harrison exhaled hard and set his glass in the sink. It wasn’t an apology, but Marc had never been one for them. Time would pass and they would be fine. Just not today.
“She’s a submissive, isn’t she?” Marc asked.
Harrison leaned back against the counter, folded his arms on his chest, and arched his brow.
“Hell.” His silence seemed to be enough to confirm Marc’s suspicions. “Do you plan on taking her to the club?”
More silence.
Marc sighed and nodded as if he understood anything else would land him in a shit storm. “Try to be discreet.”
“I’m always discreet.”
“Yeah well, keep in mind.” Marcus leveled a stare as he reached for the takeout. “If she’s discovered at the club with you by anyone outside the organization, it won’t only be your reputation at stake.”
“Ah. Ah.” Harrison wagged a finger. “Leave the food.”
Chapter Eight
Especially not someone as unique, lovely, and respectable as Fiona.
Those words, spoken by Harrison with such utter conviction, made Fiona’s chest swell with joy and guilt. She leaned back against the wall in the hallway where she had been eavesdropping like a nosy child and sighed. No one had ever defended her like that before, and Harrison had done so to his own flesh and blood. A bittersweet smile tugged at her mouth. She hardly deserved such reverence.
Marcus made strong and valid points. All points she had brought up when Harrison suggested she spend the weekend with him. She frowned. Apparently her good sense and reservations had been overcome by his tenderness and her desire to explore and unearth the woman she buried so long ago.
Even so, the consequences had never strayed far from her thoughts and having them spoken out loud by someone who cared for Harrison and his future made her realize the selfishness of her actions. She wouldn’t deny the sex was amazing or that he was an incredible man. But, they were playing with fire, and the person most at risk of getting burned and losing everything was Harrison.
When the front door slammed, Fiona shut her eyes.
Playtime is over. Back to reality.
After a quick swipe at the wrinkles in her skirt and blouse, she inhaled a deep breath and then rounded the corner. Harrison stood at the counter, elbow-deep in the brown bag his brother had brought.
“Hope you like Italian.” He removed the takeout lids off the two containers and Fiona arched an eyebrow.
Damn. She really did like Italian, and she was starving. The smell of rosemary and garlic cut through the stench of burnt chicken and her mouth watered. No. No, she would not let her stomach dictate at a time like this. There was too much at stake.
“You know, I do. I really do, but I can’t stay.”
He turned and reached into the cupboard, brought down two plates and then began topping them with heaps of pasta and salad as if he hadn’t heard her.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t like to stay,” she explained, dragging her gaze from the food. “I just remembered some last minute packing I have to do. It’s nothing huge, but I should really get it out of the way.”
He carried the full plates to the dining room table and then circled back to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of pinot.
“There’s a corkscrew in one of those drawers.” He jerked his head toward the counter she was standing by and reached up for two glasses.
She frowned and went on a hunt for the corkscrew. By the time she found it, Harrison was already back at the table and setting out the stemware.
“It smells amazing,” she admitted, handing him the corkscrew.
“Some of the best Italian in New York.”
“I’m sure it is,” she agreed. “But I can’t stay.”
“You know, I’ve always wondered how much a person could hear eavesdropping from that hallway,” he replied casually as he poured the wine. “Did you happen to catch the entire conversation or just some of it?”
Heat crept up her throat and into her cheeks.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” she said in the most shocked voice she could manage.
Harrison cocked his head and an eyebrow and it was enough to break her.
“Okay, fine. I was eavesdropping.”
“And how much did you hear?” he asked, lowering into a chair and reaching for his wine.
“I heard enough.” There was no reason to beat around the bush when he already knew she was a snoop. “You didn’t have to ask your brother to leave on my behalf.”
“He was being an ass.”
“He brought you dinner. That was thoughtful.”
“Ah yes, he can be a very thoughtful ass.” He leaned over and pulled the chair out in front of her where the second plate of food sat. “Sit. Eat.”
She stared down at the food and sighed. There was no point in letting good food go to waste, and she could still plead her case over a vibrant garden medley and beautiful linguini. She sat and scooted her chair a little closer to the table.
“Try to remember that thoughtful ass is only looking out for you.” She twirled pasta onto her fork, slipped it into her mouth, and chewed. Lord, that’s good. Her eyes rolled, and she stifled a moan before adding, “We both know I shouldn’t be here.”
“But you’re here,” he countered. “Which happens be exactly where I want you.”
Fiona contemplated him. Here, happened to be exactly where she wanted to be, too.
For the first time in a long time she felt like she was traveling a road of her own choosing, one that branched out in infinite possibilities and led to a world that only existed in her fantasies. She wanted to know what it was like to be surrounded by like-minded people, people who shared those fantasies and embraced them. If she left now, she would eventually make the discovery on her own. But…
That’s not what I want
“I don’t want to leave,” she admitted, and her heart lightened just from saying the words out loud.
“Then don’t.” He stroked the stem of his wine glass and spoke in his usual diplomatic tone. “Nothing has changed since yesterday, Fiona. The risks are still the same, regardless of how much my brother thinks my political ticket would appeal more if it included a white picket fence, a soccer mom, and two-point-five children.”
“Is the point five a girl or a boy?”
“Funny.” He cast a droll stare. “I wonder how many jokes you’ll be cracking when the laces of my flogger are snapping across your bare ass tonight.”
A bolt of lust shocked through her, and she set her fork down. A vision of him standing behind her with a sensual weapon clutched in his fist skated through her mind. Her chest tightened with fear of being struck, but under the table, her thighs quivered with the excitement. He’d never hurt her—she trusted him. So how good would it feel? What heights of pleasure would she reach under his touch? She squeezed her thighs together and swallowed.
“Speaking of tonight,” Harrison said, angling a slow, sensual smile as she reached for her wine. “Did you finish your homework or will I be punishing you for that, along with the cheeky commentary?”
Face warming, she cleared her throat and set down her glass. “I finished it shortly before the disaster in your kitchen ensued.”
“And where is it?”
“Somewhere, buried in the disaster.”
“Lost forever, then?”
“Ha ha.” She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s the funny one now?”
Harrison smirked, pushed back from the table and then headed for the kitchen. Fiona recalled his list and her cheeks heated. When going over the list, she was still riding the high from their mid-morning office sex. Remembering how liberal she’d been with the checkmarks, she wondered if filling it out so soon after multiple orgasms had been a wise idea.
A large package wrapped in plain brown paper appeared on the table next to her plate, and Fiona looked up.
“What’s this?”
“A small gift for tonight,” he answered, and instead of returning to the seat behind his half empty plate, he lowered into the chair beside her.
“A gift? For me?”
He lifted his gaze from the list. “I’d say it’s more for both of us.”
At the heated look he gave her, a butterfly twitched in her abdomen. A gift for both of us? A gift for tonight? Eyes locked on the parcel, her anticipation and curiosity swelled.
“Open it.”
Fiona grinned, set her plate aside, and reached for the package. She had the paper torn off in a few careless rips. Her giddy grin spread into a slow, wondrous smile as she trailed her fingers along delicate and gauzy black fabric.
The two piece garment reminded her of a cross between Grecian princess and Arabian belly dancer. The skirt was flowing, endless it seemed. Streams of it fell from a belt of shiny golden rings. The top appeared to be a continuous length of gossamer that, according to a small instructional tag, would crisscross over her breasts and tie in the back so the excess would cascade down to approximately mid-thigh.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
“Some people refer to it as a silk,” he informed. “I find they’re more common in some of the other subcultures, but I favor them.”
Fascinated, she held up the skirt and studied it. In broad daylight, she imagined the garment would leave little or nothing to the imagination, but in the right illumination just enough would be on display to tantalize and tease onlookers.
“You missed one piece.”
She forced her attention from the skirt and saw a thin strip of black velvet dangling from his hand. A choker? No. A collar. A beautiful collar. Though the one-inch band of fabric appeared simple in design, it was meant to be. The velvet was a mere backdrop to the enchanting opal tear drop that dangled in the center of the piece.
“It’s breathtaking,” Fiona whispered. It looked expensive. “I can’t possibly accept it.”
“You can,” he contradicted, and pointed to the floor. “You will.”
The low note of authority in his tone demanded compliance, and she was helpless to ignore it. In fact, she didn’t want to ignore it.
She rose from the table and sank to her knees in front of him, assuming the position he had taught her within the small space between their chairs. At her immediate response, approval dawned in his eyes, and her heart swelled. She liked his approval. Craved it. Why? She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She just wanted it.
“This will signify my ownership of you this evening.” Temporary as it may be, Harrison thought, and a pang of resentment struck him. “It’ll prevent other Dominants and subs from approaching you without consulting me first.”
He leaned down to fasten the collar around Fiona’s slender throat, gently fingering away a few stray wisps of hair at the base of her neck before expertly linking the small, gold clasp. He had fastened many a necklace in his day but never a collar. Initially, he had ordered the collar to prevent unwanted attention, but he couldn’t ignore the possessiveness that it roused in him. Mine. You are mine.
At least for tonight.
Grasping her shoulders, Harrison held her away so he could get a good look at her. The collar fit perfectly, the tear drop jewel sitting perfectly in the hollow of her pale and lovely throat. Although fully clothed in her skirt and blouse, his imagination quickly shredded them and left him with the vision of her kneeling naked between his legs in only the collar. A rush of blood surged into his cock, and he fought the urge to shove her face down on the floor and fuck her from behind.
Head still bowed in submission, she asked, “How does it look?”
Fucking marvelous.
“It suits you well.” He helped her off the floor and back into her chair.
After setting the clothes an arm’s length away, she reached for her plate and began to finish her dinner. He liked a woman with an appetite. Especially this one. It pleased him to watch her eat. It might be his imagination or even wishful thinking, but since yesterday morning, he thought her cheeks looked fuller and skin more luminous. She appeared healthy, happy.
Another perk of watching her eat was the way she brought the fork to her mouth. She curved her tongue around the underside to ensure she caught every last drop of sauce before she closed her lips around the utensil and then slowly withdrew it. Surprisingly erotic. He fantasized about the moment he would push his cock between those pretty lips and feel the slow swirl of her tongue around the swollen head as she sucked him off.
Oh, hell yes. Tonight he would fuck that sexy mouth.
“So, this will prevent people from talking to me without asking your permission?” She touched her slender fingers to the collar and beamed at him.
“That’s right.”
“Is that an unspoken rule or something?”
“At this club it is,” he answered, unable to pull his attention from her lips. “Protocol can vary with the venue, but customarily it’s frowned upon to directly approach a collared sub or slave without permission from their owner. You know,” he turned toward her, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat quite as sensually as you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were doing it on purpose to torture me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, but I guarantee you, I’m not.” She softly laughed.
“Even so…” He reached under the table, pushed his hand up her skirt, and relished her sharp intake of breath.
“Jesus,” she panted. “W-what are you doing?”
“I see no reason why I should be the only one tortured.”
When she responded with a moan, he tugged the crotch of her panties aside and rubbed the backs of his knuckles along her moistening slit. Her freshly shaved pussy was so soft and slippery. He contemplated tossing her onto the table, shoving up her skirt, and setting hi
s mouth on her. One taste of that sweet cunt and he knew they would never make it to the club.
Desire heavy eyes, lit with mischievous amusement, flitted over his face as she licked her lips and sighed. “I can’t say this feels much like torture.”
“Mmm.” He growled. “Sure, it doesn’t now, but it will when I don’t let you come until tonight.”
With consideration for the rough pounding he had given her before dinner, Harrison gently pressed a single digit inside her and tilted it up against her G-spot. He tapped it firmly and enjoyed how quickly the flush rose in her cheeks.
“Oh, God, that hardly seems fair, considering my teasing was unintentional,” Fiona weakly protested, but her voice was already saturated in so much arousal he didn’t feel one bit badly about it.
“Maybe it wasn’t intentional, but the result remains the same.” He set his mouth lightly over her ear. “Besides, you’ll thank me for this tonight.”
Breathing heavy, she turned her head to look at him. “Will I?”
“You will,” he confirmed. “When the laces of my flogger are snapping across your bare flesh later, you’ll want to be on the edge of ecstasy.”
She trembled, and his cock viciously throbbed.
Christ.
Harrison flexed his jaw and suddenly wondered who the foreplay was more of a torment to. Ignoring his hard dick and the need to drive it into her, he fingerfucked her slowly while drawing small, meticulous circles over her swollen clit. When the inside of her thighs began to vibrate against his forearm, he was fairly satisfied they’d reached the torture element. Only, he wasn’t quite done.
There was one thing on her list that he wanted to address. Given her elevated state of arousal, it struck him as a perfect time to obtain candid answers.
Watching her expression closely, he withdrew his finger from her pussy and probed lower. As he pressed the tip against her ass, her body went rigid.
“Shit,” she cursed and the fork she’d been so violently clutching finally slipped out of her fingers, hitting the dinner plate with a loud clang.