Wanting Wilder (Safe Word: Oasis)

by Zurlo, Michele

  He traced his gaze along her cheekbones, admiring her elegant bone structure. And then he looked at her full, generous lips. He’d never kissed an African American woman before. In the small Vermont town where he lived, he hadn’t encountered very many people who weren’t white. He wondered if her lips were as soft as they looked. He could imagine himself drowning in her kiss.

  Never in his life had he seen anyone so unbelievably beautiful. And responsive. She had arched and undulated under his flogger as if she was made to be there.

  He didn’t know much about destiny, but when he’d asked for money to come on this trip, his father had scowled and refused. His mother had handed over the funds and told his father it was meant to be. His father’s demeanor had changed, all irritation gone.

  Wilder knew his mother was never wrong. She was reputed to have a sixth sense. Wilder wasn’t sure he believed in the concept, but he knew better than to argue with his mother, and he had really wanted to come on this trip with his buddy Micah. He hadn’t been looking for anyone special, but the moment he saw her standing below the stage, watching the event, he got that feeling in his gut, the one his dad had talked about having the moment he’d set eyes on Wilder’s mother.

  She was the one.

  A knock at the door interrupted his musings. He opened it a crack to find a woman standing there, hands on hips in a pose that promised she would brook no crap from anyone. Wilder recognized her as his submissive’s friend.

  He opened the door wider and offered his hand. “Hi. Come on in. She hasn’t come around yet. I’m Wilder.”

  She pushed past him, rushed across the room, and bent over his dream woman’s still form. “What did you do to her?”

  “Subspace. It’s like being high, only without drugs. She’ll come around any minute now.”

  The friend glared at him. “What happened up there? The other guy didn’t flip me around and whip my front.”

  Wilder winced. “Flog. He flogged you. Whipping is different, not for beginners. You didn’t like it as much as she did. I probably shouldn’t have taken her this far, especially her first time and especially because I don’t know how she feels about that level of exhibitionism.” He came to stand next to her, if only to be closer to the woman he desperately wanted to kiss. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  She snorted. “I didn’t throw it at you.” She bent over her friend and shook her arm. “Lydia. Lydia, honey. Wake up.”

  “She’s not asleep.” Her name was Lydia. It was suddenly the sexiest name he’d ever heard.

  The friend shook Lydia harder. “Lydia. Girl, it’s time to go back to the hotel.”

  “She can hear you. Stop shaking her like that.” He eased the friend out of the way and sat on the edge of the sofa near Lydia’s hip. He caressed her cheek and spoke in his sternest voice. “Lydia, sweetheart, open your eyes. Your friend is here, and she’s worried about you.”

  Lydia’s eyelashes fluttered again. This time they opened. She focused her caramel-colored irises on him. “I’m okay. I just don’t feel like I can move.” Her voice came out a little slurred.

  He grinned, reveling in the pride of his accomplishment. “You can move. You’re just really relaxed. Let me help you sit up.”

  She blinked and nodded. He slid his arm under her shoulders and lifted. Her bare thigh pressed against his hip, and he felt her heat through the cotton of his pants.

  A spark passed between them, and he knew she felt it too. Blood rushed to her cheeks, darkening them just a shade. She met his gaze and looked away, and he fell for her. He had no idea why her shyness pulled at his core, but it did.

  She held the back of her hand to her cheek. “What happened to me?”

  “Subspace. For some submissives, a good flogging can take you to a place that’s peaceful and calm. It looks like you’re one of them. You did it on your first try too. That’s pretty impressive.”

  She stared at him with utter serenity. “You did this to me? That’s so sweet. I don’t even know your name.”

  “Wilder.” He grinned at her raised eyebrow. Serene, yet not so far gone that she couldn’t show a bit of humor. “I’m here on spring break, as you seem to be.”

  “Lydia, are you okay?” The friend’s voice cut through their intimate moment.

  She looked past him, surprise replacing her inner calm. “Brigit. I’m sorry. I must have freaked you out. You were right. That was incredible.”

  Brigit giggled, a liquid sound at odds with her husky voice. “Leave it to you to find a way to get special treatment from the employees. Nobody else passed out and had to be carried off the stage.”

  Wilder stood, moving out of the way to let Brigit check over Lydia for herself. He was glad she had a friend to look out for her well-being. “I don’t work here. I just know Des, the Dom working the stage. He needed a break, so I took over for a little while. Des wouldn’t have gone as far as I did. He does this in public all the time. I don’t.”

  Lydia smiled at him, her attraction a palpable force on the air currents. “I’m glad you took over for him.”

  So was he.

  * * * *

  Present day

  Of course, at the time he’d thought it was the beginning of something beautiful. She’d been new to the role of submissive, and he’d been the first to help her uncover her hidden inner masochist. It had ended up being short-term, a few days of bliss followed by years of silence. He’d looked for a woman who could impact him the way Lydia had, but he hadn’t found anyone with her combination of sweetness and fire.

  He pushed the memory away and pulled his head back to the present. Taking care to show outward calm, he threw a five on the table to cover the cost of his coffee and leave a generous tip for the server.

  She was going to be a handful, especially once she saw him again. He didn’t know how she felt about their time together, but she hadn’t seen fit to continue their association beyond their vacation fling. He hadn’t seen her in years, and he already wanted to lay stripes across her backside. She would definitely spend some time tied up tonight.

  * * * *

  Lydia sat at her desk and stared at the picture clipped to the front of the file folder spread on her massive oak desk. She perched on the edge of her chair with her legs crossed and kicked her right foot furiously at the air, moving faster and faster the longer she stared at that picture.

  When Sam had given her the file, he had suggested she look through it first thing.

  “Wilder will be with you at all times. He will accompany you to work, he’ll stay with you here, he’ll take you home every evening, and you’ll share the apartment until your orientation is over.” He had said his piece, leveled a meaningful look at Lydia, turned on his heel, and left the room.

  What were the odds that her “personal security detail” would be the one man she couldn’t get out of her head? Once she got past the initial shock, a mass of confused emotions tangled in her chest and stomach. She picked up the photo, pressed her lips together, and put it down. There was no mistaking the penetrating blue eyes in that picture. She shivered in remembrance, tamping down the familiar heat, lingering resentment, and sense of loss that still accompanied every thought of him.

  And he crossed her mind a lot. The years and intervening experiences had only sharpened him in her memory. He was the only man who ever brought her to orgasm with a flogger. And it hadn’t been a fluke. He’d done it multiple times.

  She hadn’t counted on sharing an apartment, especially not with him. She preferred to live alone, to have nobody infringing on her privacy. Given the way he’d fled Fort Lauderdale once things started to get serious, he probably had the same preference. As soon as she was settled into her job, she would find somewhere more suitable to stay, somewhere away from Wilder. A corporate apartment wasn’t meant to be permanent anyway.

  The contents of the file threw her into confusion. It was a summation of the relentlessly long questionnaire she’d filled out as part of the application proc
ess. The document was completely unnecessary. She hadn’t made a wish, not really. At the time, she thought Micah’s amused reaction indicated he knew she was being facetious. She’d only filled it out because she felt it was important to know what questions were asked of the customers.

  She dropped her head back as understanding dawned. This was the kind of summation she could expect to find with every wish. Thank goodness she wouldn’t have to read through the mountains of data to figure out the specifics of each wish. She could work with a detailed summary like this.

  The photo of Wilder drew her attention again. Those clear blue eyes stared out at her, promising nothing. His light brown hair was clipped shorter than it had been all those years ago. Though he was very handsome, she wasn’t sure about his eyes. They were cold and icy calm. She didn’t remember him being at all cold. Sometimes he had been stoic or impassive, but he’d never been cold. The picture was probably more accurate. If she’d seen it all those years ago, she would have known he would leave the way he had.

  Two solid raps of knuckles on wood jerked her attention away from the photograph of the man who’d introduced her to the wonders of BDSM and then vanished from her life.

  Lydia looked up, careful to keep her reaction slow to conceal her surprise. Nobody was supposed to be in the building today. That was why she had come in—to get her things in order while nobody was around. She didn’t like to be caught looking less than prepared.

  The spitting image of the head shot on her desk stood in her now-open doorway. He’d filled out a little more since she’d last seen him, yet he looked essentially the same. He still sported the physique of a man who spent significant time at the gym. He was lean, his body streamlined instead of bulky. The long, corded ropes of muscles on his bare arms made her clench in places she’d rather not think about just now. And was that a tattoo ringing one bicep?

  Dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt, he was hunky enough to make her mouth water for another sample. He was every bit as attractive as she remembered.

  After far too much time spent ogling his body, Lydia forced her gaze up to his face. His strong, square jaw had at least two days’ worth of dark stubble. He stood with his arms crossed and stared at her with those hard blue eyes. Ice, she thought. Or diamonds.

  Wilder’s hair was longer on top than it was in the picture, but it was still clipped close to his scalp. It was darker than she remembered. The streaks of sun weren’t as prevalent. The mahogany color set off his eyes even more. His dark eyebrows could have made his face appear warm, but they were poor competition for his general demeanor.

  He seemed hard inside and out, not at all the way he appeared in her memory-based fantasies.

  And he was pissed. She’d never seen him upset before. He hadn’t even been annoyed by Brigit’s near-constant presence and her frequent, critical remarks about how much time the pair had spent together. Right now, she couldn’t think of a reason he’d be so angry, but then she figured that her presence had probably ruined some of his plans. Since she hadn’t consented to having a babysitter, she refused to feel bad about that.

  Lydia flipped the folder shut and stood, fixing a welcoming smile on her face. She crossed her new office and did her best to act like she belonged there.

  “I’m Lydia O’Neill,” she said, offering her hand to Wilder. Just because she remembered him so fondly didn’t mean he remembered her at all. Men as handsome as Wilder had their pick of women wherever they went. And she couldn’t find any hint of recognition in his eyes.

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Wilder Burke.” He shook her hand without looking down at it. A jolt ran through her, making her hand flex in response. She leaned closer, an unconscious move she remedied as soon as she became aware of it.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Burke.” She eased her hand from his grasp.

  Turning away, she surveyed the stack of boxes in the office. Her office. This was the kind of disorder to which she didn’t want witnesses. She pressed her lips together, but her discomfort had more to do with the fact he obviously didn’t recognize her.

  “I didn’t expect company today.” She shook her head and tried to offer him an escape route. He didn’t seem to want to be there any more than she wanted him there. “I don’t think this is something that requires a security detail. Unless you want to help me unpack, I have no idea what to do with you.”

  She glanced at him and felt even more self-conscious. His expression and stance hadn’t changed. She felt like saying, At ease, soldier, but she didn’t think he would find it amusing. She took a chance and raised an expectant brow. “Well, what am I supposed to do with you?”

  That muscle in his jaw ticked again. “Why did you change your ticket?”

  A big part of her wanted to shake her fist at him and yell. How could a man who had such a profound impact on her life not remember her? There wasn’t the slightest flicker to indicate she’d meant anything more than a couple nights of fun. Perhaps he remembered the event, but he sure as hell hadn’t retained the details of her face.

  She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her skirt and headed across the room to a stack of boxes. “I wanted to get settled before Monday. It seemed silly to wait until after the work week starts to unpack.”

  “I see.”

  The response came from just over her right shoulder. He’d crossed the room, and she hadn’t heard a single step. His catlike movements disturbed her already unsettled stomach.

  She could at least send him out of the room. He could hang out downstairs with his friends in the lobby. She tried to turn to tell him that, but he halted her with a firm grip on both of her shoulders.

  “Stay put, Pet.”

  Oh, now that was too much. She’d been on the receiving end of racist comments before, but this was too demeaning to address with anything less than a scalding takedown. And then she’d have him fired. That would take care of the way her hormones rioted when he touched her.

  She tried to rip herself away from where his hands rested on her shoulders, but he was just too strong. It looked like she’d have to rely on bravado. “If you don’t take your hands off me right now, I will scream. As it is, I will have your job for this.”

  He chuckled. “My family owns the company.”

  “That doesn’t give you the right to call me names and manhandle me.”

  She turned to face him, but only because he was the one who whirled her around. His eyes glittered hard, but she couldn’t tell if he was pissed off. The anger seemed to have vanished, replaced with quiet calm. “Let’s set some ground rules, Pet. Outrageous accusations will earn a punishment, and screaming won’t bring anyone to the rescue. In most instances, it’ll just get you gagged.”

  Blood drained from her face, leaving behind a cold, sticky feeling. And heat rushed to the apex of her thighs.

  He watched her closely, his gaze roaming her face, and he seemed to be waiting for her to say something. “As you’ve chosen to not use your safe word, I’ll continue with the introduction.”

  Safe word? At least his use of the term “Pet” made sense.

  “For the duration of your orientation, I will call you Pet, and you will call me Sir. Do you understand?”

  Did she understand? Hell, no. She’d thought this was a legitimate job offer, not a fantasy. She’d quit her other job, sold her condo, and moved a thousand miles. “Mr. Burke, I think there’s been a mistake. I didn’t consent to being in a fantasy, and I don’t know anything about a safe word. I thought Oasis had hired me for a real job.” It killed her that this wasn’t her dream come true. Disappointment knifed through her core, and she struggled to keep it contained.

  His family owns the company?

  His expression relaxed, and she glimpsed his shock. “Oasis. Your safe word is Oasis. It’s always Oasis. And this is a legitimate job, Lydia. It’s my job to train you for it.”

  Her heart thumped so hard it hurt. Oasis was the safe word. Why hadn’t she made that connect
ion before? Had she subconsciously sought out a job at the company because the safe word had been ingrained in her mind from the very beginning?

  “Oasis.” This time when she shrugged out of his grip, he let her go. “I don’t have a desire to be the submissive in any man’s fantasy.”

  He lifted a brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched with what looked like humor. “All executives must be trained. You can’t understand the nuances of an application if you haven’t been through the process yourself.”

  Lydia could understand and appreciate that approach to learning the ins and outs of a business, but she didn’t feel the need to act out a fantasy she didn’t really have in the first place. However, she wasn’t ready to walk away from this job. From the moment she first opened that e-mail soliciting applications, she’d felt a calling she couldn’t quite explain, a gut feeling she couldn’t ignore.

  She rolled her shoulders, shrugging off the discomfort. “Okay, but I want to be the Domme.”

  Crinkles formed around those pale eyes. He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s not how you filled out your questionnaire.”

  “Then I want to change it.” She crossed her arms. No way in hell would she let him do the things to her that she’d indicated in that survey, slices of heaven to which he’d introduced her all those years ago. She hadn’t realized Micah was going to make her live out the details. If she had, she would have definitely made sure she was the one in control.

  He shook his head. “You can’t run from what you want. It’ll always be there, nagging at you. Tormenting you. Deep down, you know you want this. You can have your fantasy, Pet. You can have it right now.”

  She couldn’t quite decide if he was taunting her or promising to make her wildest dreams come true. In defense, she let her inner pragmatist loose. “Exactly how long does training last?”

  He shrugged. “Until you’re trained. There are no definite parameters.”

  SHE CROSSED HER arms over her chest, probably trying to hide the way her nipples perked up when he called her Pet. She turned her face away, attempting to obscure what he knew to be a rare glimpse of her vulnerability. Eight years ago, she never would have tried to cover herself or mitigate her reactions in his presence. Now she didn’t even look at him like she knew him. He ignored the way her stiff demeanor made his chest ache.