Wanting Wilder (Safe Word: Oasis)

by Zurlo, Michele

  Then she blinked and his image was gone. She cleaned her vibrator, and she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  Chapter Two

  “Why do you want to work for Oasis?”

  The man sitting opposite Lydia had friendly eyes. They were warm and brown, intimating comfort and safety. But she wasn’t lulled by his caretaker demeanor. He also radiated a cocky confidence and a presence that marked him as a Dom. Tall, dark, and handsome, Micah O’Connor was undeniably the poster boy for everything a submissive like her craved in a man.

  Except she wasn’t attracted to him. Not in the least. She enjoyed his smile and his sense of humor, but the chemistry just wasn’t there. Since this was a job interview, that was fine. She had no desire to work with a man who made her pant and fantasize. To the detriment of every relationship she’d tried to have in the last eight years, that position had already been filled by a man whose last name and current location she didn’t know.

  She had a ready answer for this completely expected question. She finished sipping her vanilla latte and set it on the table between them. She discarded her polite smile in favor of something genuine. “I want to make people’s wishes come true.”

  He set down his herbal tea and leaned closer. The scent of blueberries mixed with vanilla. “I know that, Lydia. That’s why I came all the way to Michigan to see you. But I’m asking why. Why do you want to make people’s wishes come true?”

  It hadn’t been necessary for him to fly here from the Vermont headquarters. She had been more than willing to travel there. After all, if she got the job—and things were looking good so far—she’d be moving to Vermont. Given their previous conversations, she had every reason to be optimistic. She’d planned to scout real estate on her visit.

  Blue eyes, pale as the sky on a lazy summer day, flashed in her memory. Snatches of his warm smile and the way his laughter heated her from the inside chased away the chill of the café’s air conditioner that really needed to be turned off.

  Micah smiled at her, amusement crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “Tell me about your wish, Lydia. What do you want for yourself?”

  She shook her head. “The wishes aren’t about me. They’re about the people baring their souls and taking a chance, hoping and praying for that new beginning.”

  He nodded. “You’re a submissive.”

  The stereotyped observation irked her. Being submissive didn’t mean she was driven to take care of other people. It didn’t automatically make her one of those nice people with a heart of gold. “You assume that because I want to make other people’s wishes come true, I’m submissive?”

  “No. I’m a Dominant, and I’m in that line of work already. It’s clear you have a generous soul and a strong spirit. And you’re feisty. A fighter. That’s what we like about you.” He grinned, flashing one disarming dimple. “I think you’re a submissive, one lacking proper training, because you dodged the question. A Dom would have been more direct in telling me to mind my own business.”

  Not everyone fell completely into either category, but that point didn’t belong in this conversation. In Oasis’s world, everyone was at least a little of one or the other, or both. After all, that was the cornerstone of their fantasy-based business. She had nothing productive to say about Micah’s observation, so she steered the conversation back to job-related skills. “I’m an excellent organizer. I’ve worked for several nonprofits.”

  He waved a hand to cut her off. “I’m aware of your qualifications. I didn’t fly here to find out things I could find out over the phone.”

  Part of her was dying to ask the million-dollar question. Why had he flown all this way? She opted for better phrasing, noting that he was right about her not giving direct answers, though she didn’t do that because she was submissive. She did it because she had things to hide. “I don’t understand what you’re asking. I’ve never made a wish. Does that make you think I’m not in a position to understand other people’s wishes?”

  He dropped his gaze, studying the heavy cardboard cup of tea between them. “I don’t know, Lydia. That’s what I’m here to figure out. That’s why I came to you and asked to meet in a place where you feel comfortable. Everyone who works for Oasis is somehow involved in the lifestyle. The wishes submitted to us aren’t always clear. They appear clear, but they’re not. There’s always so much that’s missing.”

  Understanding clicked in her head. “You think that I can’t figure out the essence of a wish if I haven’t found satisfaction in a relationship of my own.”

  He slid his hand across the table and squeezed her wrist. “I just need to know you’ve discovered the joy of being in a fulfilling relationship. Even if he or she wasn’t ‘the one,’ you had at least one moment when you understood the full meaning of how BDSM relationships fill a need nothing else can fill.”

  Oh, she had experienced more than a moment. She’d enjoyed a blissful two days and nights in the arms of a man she couldn’t forget, the man who first introduced her to the joys of submission and discipline.

  Lydia lifted her chin, a defiant gesture she used to cover the heat flaming in her cheeks, and pushed away the memory of his face. It followed her around, haunting her. Sometimes she imagined Master V was him, but then she’d shake herself gently away from that line of longing. Master V was a great man, but he wasn’t the one who made her wake up with panties moist from a hot dream.

  She exhaled, reminding herself that they needed her. And the middle of a job interview was not the time to daydream about Wilder. “I know what the wishers are searching for. Just because I haven’t had a real relationship with a Dom doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of what they want.” Nobody had come close to giving her what that quarterback Dom had made her achieve.

  Micah’s pleased smile slowed the frantic beating of her heart. “It sounds like you’ve had a defining experience.”

  Defining? Yes, but that wasn’t it. No, being publicly flogged hadn’t done more than open her eyes to the fact she really liked to be on the receiving end of the flogger. The definition had come later, when she’d opened her lids and found those blue eyes piercing her soul. He had smiled and helped her sit up. He had talked to her and held her hand. Not once that night had he tried anything else. It was like he could sense her vulnerability and knew exactly how far to push her. Every other Dom with whom she’d tried to cultivate a relationship had wanted to focus on sex. Sir hadn’t done that. She’d felt cherished even before he’d kissed her.

  She lifted her gaze and regarded Micah intently. “You know what I want? If I had to wish, I'd want a Dom who can keep his dick in his pants. I want a Dom who understands that a relationship, respect, and friendship come first.”

  Micah’s expression didn’t change in the face of her quiet vehemence. “I think you’ll do. You’ll start in three weeks. I’ll send you the paperwork, make the travel arrangements, and set you up in a company apartment.”

  Her eyes rounded, nearly bugging out of her head. “You don’t have to do all that for me. I can make my own arrangements.”

  He rose to his feet and stuck out his hand. “At Oasis, we take care of our own. We’re one big family, Lydia, and you’re now part of it. I’ll take care of everything, even packing and moving. You just show up when the plane ticket tells you to.”

  She couldn’t stop the giggle of glee, and she barely managed to refrain from hurling herself into his arms for a hug. Ever since she’d first heard of Oasis, she’d wanted to work for them. Many people might want to have a fantasy fulfilled, but she’d moved past that a long time ago. Her perfect weekend fling had come and gone.

  Master V was going to be so happy for her.

  Chapter Three

  Lydia sailed into the building like she owned it. Her heels clicked on the white-and-gray polished marble floor, echoing through the cavernous room. The domed ceiling rose four stories overhead, a swirl of color broken with windows to allow a good amount of natural light. If she took the time to stop and lo
ok up, Lydia knew she would find a series of frescoes depicting the philosophy of the company, painted Michelangelo-style.

  But she didn’t look up. She had seen the pictures online—some of them, anyway. All the people depicted in the paintings were either naked or scantily clad. Each showed a different erotic S/M or bondage scene. Since Oasis existed to fulfill BDSM fantasies, those came as no surprise.

  Complex knot designs created an abstract backdrop and served to tie the tableau together. If she could let herself go, she would stop and stare at them for hours, fantasizing about what she wished she had the courage to find. But fantasies were for other people. The need to help people make those dreams come true had fueled her aggressive pursuit of a job at Oasis.

  At any rate, Lydia didn’t want to gawk. This was her first day on the job, her first day with the company as a wish coordinator. Stopping to marvel at the beauty of the architecture and decor wouldn’t do anything to further the impression she wanted to make. Maybe it was Sunday and the building was virtually empty, but she had to build a no-nonsense reputation from the beginning. Micah might have tried to leave the impression that she was part of a family, but that kind of relationship came after time had passed. It wasn’t a starting point.

  Two extremely tall, well-built men and an average-height woman occupied seats at the kiosk located strategically to prevent the entry of unauthorized persons into the rest of the building. They wore navy blue security uniforms that seemed tailored to fit each person.

  Lydia smiled inwardly at her clothing choice. At the core, it was a simple business skirt and matching blouse. The peach fabric managed to be both soft and serious. It brought out the rosy glow of her skin without making her appear sallow. The cut flattered every curve on her body and did a great job of camouflaging the flaws.

  Wearing skirts had always made Lydia feel the power of her femininity. Today’s skirt slimmed her hips and emphasized the shapeliness of her legs. The cut of the blouse somehow lengthened her torso. Lydia had always been short, but she’d never considered herself petite, two attributes people assumed came hand in hand.

  They didn’t.

  She had arrived the night before, an entire day early. She liked to be early. A company car would have been waiting for her at the airport if she had notified them of her change in plans. As it was, she had rented a car. Being a native Michigander, she felt the need for a set of wheels all her own.

  Thanks to Micah’s insistence on flying to Michigan for the interview, Lydia had never been to Vermont. She’d never even vacationed there. Now she would call it home.

  The refrigerator had been stocked by someone who knew what kinds of food she liked. The apartment, much too large for one person, covered almost one thousand square feet, and it came furnished. Lydia had brought a few pieces of her furniture, which the company had shipped at their expense. Those things had been integrated into the rooms by someone with a professional decorator’s eye. The rest of her belongings were being stored somewhere.

  The high-ceilinged rooms were nice, and the master bedroom was huge. The bed didn’t seem overly large at first, but when she stretched out on it, she realized how freaking big it was. The size of the room disguised the mass of the bed. She could share the bed and never come into contact with her companion.

  Since her clothes and other personal things had been unpacked into that room, Lydia had dumped her luggage inside and crashed on top of the covers, the soft bed enveloping her like a lover’s arms. She had slept solidly.

  In the morning, she realized one whole glass wall revealed a spectacular mountain view. When she opened the heavy sliding door, she could hear her neighbors breakfasting on their balcony, but she couldn’t see them. She could have dined on her balcony naked, and nobody would be able to see. Well, unless one of the people in those distant houses that dotted the side of the mountain had a telescope.

  She pasted on a friendly, authoritative smile as she approached the kiosk. The woman smiled back, her bright face open and friendly. The men flanked her. They examined Lydia closely, their stony faces concealing every thought.

  They were exceptionally handsome men. Both towered above her by more than a foot. Muscles flexed under their shirts, straining at the fabric. The one on the right had brown eyes and brown hair clipped short in a military style. The one on the left had blue eyes and brown hair that he had let grow a little longer, though it was still very short.

  She directed her attention to the woman. “I’m Lydia O’Neill.”

  The woman’s smile grew. “Ms. O’Neill. I’ve been expecting you. I heard you like to get an early start.”

  Lydia nodded and admitted to something so many people considered a fault. “I am a morning person.” Never mind she was an entire day early.

  “Me too,” she said. “I’m Eva Miroslav, the head of building security. These are my assistants, Pete and Sam.”

  From the way she gestured, Lydia deduced that Pete had the brown eyes and Sam had the blue eyes. Both had perfected the interrogation stare. They used it like Doms accustomed to getting their way. Lydia refused to show the discomfort prickling down her spine.

  Eva pushed a manila envelope across the counter. “You’ll find your ID and key card in here.”

  Lydia ripped the top of the envelope and reached inside. She clipped the plastic picture ID to her blouse and slipped the key card into her purse. “Thanks,” she said. “Any idea where my office is?”

  Sam stepped forward. “I’ll escort you upstairs.”

  Pete extracted a cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll contact her security detail. He’ll want to know she’s here.”

  Lydia lifted a brow. “Security detail?”

  “Company policy,” Eva said. Her wide smile grew wider.

  Though Lydia hadn’t seen much of the town, she had definitely researched the crime statistics. In the past five years, only one crime had been recorded, and that had been shoplifting. She blinked. “Why do I need a security detail?”

  “It’s not security in the bodyguard sense,” Eva said. “He’s responsible for your orientation. Don’t worry. You’ll love him. Everybody does.”

  Eva twitched, and her complexion turned decidedly pinker. Lydia frowned, but she didn’t pursue the line of questioning.

  “Thank you,” she said to Eva. With the tilt of her head, she indicated to Sam that she was ready to proceed to her office.

  * * * *

  The owner of Elmhurst topped off Wilder’s coffee as he listened to Pete’s update. His buddy sounded amused, but he refrained from voicing whatever had tickled his funny bone. Wilder nodded his thanks to Lloyd, who grinned and wandered to the next table. After a few seconds, Wilder pressed the button to end his call and slid his cell into the pocket on his loose jeans. Trust their uptight new executive to throw a wrench into his meticulously constructed plans before he was able to put anything into motion. Her flight wasn’t scheduled to arrive for three more hours, yet Pete had just informed him that Lydia had collected her ID packet and was now in her office.

  She wouldn’t be allowed to assume her position until he cleared her for duty. Oasis management firmly subscribed to the belief that nobody could orchestrate the fulfillment of another person’s dreams until they understood what it was like to have at least one wish become real.

  And Lydia hadn’t filled out her paperwork properly. An incomplete fantasy wasn’t impossible to fulfill, but it was damn difficult. Wilder had been unable to read between the lines enough to figure out what she really wanted. Sure, she’d attended to the checklists of permissions and hard limits, but he had the feeling she hadn’t read the questions too closely. Inconsistencies were also difficult to navigate. It was a good thing he remembered many of her preferences from their too-brief encounter eight years ago.

  No, that was a lie. He remembered all her preferences in vivid detail. When Micah had returned from his trip with a shit-eating grin, Wilder hadn’t been worried. Finding someone with the perfect combination of traits to
work at Oasis wasn’t easy. Procuring her was a feat worthy of celebration.

  Then Micah had revealed Lydia’s name and the close-up head shot that would be her personnel photo. Wilder’s heart had lodged in his throat, and he’d struggled to choke it back down. There was no way in hell he could refuse to be the one to fulfill her wish—he’d maim anyone who tried to take his place—and her incomplete profile ceased to be an issue.

  He remembered the way she’d responded to his flogger. He’d been drawn to her from the moment he saw her watching the show on the stage with horrified fascination. He’d been more than happy to take over for Des, the regular Dom.

  He pictured the way she had looked afterward, during aftercare, and the memory of having her that close came flooding back.

  * * * *

  8 years ago

  She lay on the sofa, her limp body soft and her head off in that place subs went when they were blissed out. He examined the exposed skin on her chest above the cut of her shirt and below the cuffs of her shorts. If he’d known her for more than a half hour, he would lift her shirt and have a closer look, just to make sure her skin was all right. He was certain she was fine, but he did prefer a visual check.

  Bright light flooded the room, affording him a much better look than the one he’d had in the dim club lights. The employee break room was off-limits to almost everyone. Neither Wilder nor Micah worked at the club, but Wilder knew the owner well enough to take a turn onstage, and his family held a lot of sway in the BDSM community. That gained him access and privacy.

  He couldn’t stop staring at her. Long, straight black hair fell in disarray around her oval face. Her big, round eyes were closed, but every now and again, her dark lashes would flutter, and he would remember the vulnerability in her light brown eyes as she had looked up at him beforehand and listened to him speak.