by Roz Lee
I don’t want to let her go.
She was dreaming. Nothing in real life had ever felt this good, this right. Wherever she was, she was safe. If she opened her eyes, the dream would shatter, and she wanted it to go on forever.
Slowly, reality seeped through the ragged seams of her consciousness. Todd.
She recognized his scent and the feel of his hands. One curved over her arm, the other at her hip, holding her, protecting her. He could have sent her away afterward, but he hadn’t. After the most amazing orgasm of her life, he’d simply picked her up as if she weighed nothing and cradled her in his arms. It was as unexpected as it was comforting, but she’d taken her cues from him and hadn’t said a word, hadn’t questioned his reasons. His broad chest and strong arms had simply felt too good.
What was it about this man that prompted her to do crazy, reckless things? Like make herself come in a public place then foolishly use every contact she knew to find out who he was? Putting herself at his mercy tonight, without a single concrete reason to believe he wouldn’t hurt her—other than the feeling in her gut—had been the definition of insanity.
Yet, here she was, in his arms feeling safer than she ever had in her life.
Master.
The word rolled around in her head like a firecracker dancing with a lit match, ready to explode any minute. A sane person would throw the explosive away before it blew up in their face, but she’d already established her insanity.
He only wants one night.
Master.
That deep down, know-it’s-right feeling didn’t fit a one-night hookup. The feeling went with forever. She’d never envisioned a lasting relationship with another Dom, much less expressed the desire for such an association. But she’d called him Master.
He hadn’t acted like he’d heard her, and perhaps he hadn’t. Maybe that part had been a dream, and she hadn’t said the word out loud, only imagined she had. She tested it again, forming the sounds silently with her lips.
“You’re awake.” His voice rumbled through his chest cavity like a giant cat purring, and she was suddenly aware he could easily tear her to shreds.
Raising her hand to his chest, she felt his heart beating, slow and steady. No sign he was as nervous as she was. “Yes.” Master. Her brain automatically tacked on the title though she stopped the sound before it passed her lips.
“It’s late.”
“I should go,” she said, though she made no effort to move, and thankfully, he didn’t try to make her. She would have to leave his arms, but a piece of her would remain when she did. He’d claimed a part of her no one else ever had—her heart.
He’d changed her in some fundamental way she didn’t fully understand. Before, even up until he’d spanked her a few times, she had expected the punishment to be mild, the pain grease that would open the door to her pleasure. She’d expected him to enjoy punishing her. He’d quickly disabused her of the notion. There hadn’t been anything sexual about the spanking, and he hadn’t enjoyed it. There’d been no soothing between blows. No words spoken to let her know he was turned on, and the pain had been beyond anything arousing. Her ass still hurt and probably would for days.
Up until then, she’d been a selfish sub. She’d offered herself to Dom’s for her pleasure, not theirs. She’d expected Todd to follow suit. Paddle her a little—until she was aroused—then bring her to orgasm.
Now, she understood. The real pleasure came from pleasing her master, not the other way around. She’d deliberately taunted him, using his good looks to help herself to a public orgasm, then blithely assuming he would give her another.
“That wasn’t what you thought was going to happen, was it?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Don’t expect an apology. You won’t get one. One thing you have to remember, always. You’re here to serve my pleasure, and only my pleasure. I decide when, or if, you will orgasm.”
Her heart lodged in her throat. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
“I’ll draw up a contract tomorrow. You should know up front I’m not staying in Dallas much longer. A few months, but I want you with me until I have to go.”
Her heart sank like a stone, landing with a sickening thud in her abdomen. Not forever. A few months.
“I’ll teach you what you need to know to serve your next master.”
Black dots swam around her vision. She closed her eyes to stave off a wave of dizziness.
Next master. Not forever.
Forever.
Forever for her. Even when he’s gone.
He shifted, pushed her body off his chest, yet still held her in his lap. “Look at me.”
She forced her eyes open and turned her face to his. His wonderfully handsome face was a blur through the tears threatening to spill over.
“Why are you crying?” he asked.
Her heart was a petrified fossil lodged somewhere in her body, but she couldn’t tell him how he had wounded her. It would hurt him. She could see it in his eyes, and she couldn’t do that to him. Where was the selfish sub when she needed her?
“You…. I didn’t…. Let me….”
He smiled and shook his head. “Thank you, but, no. I don’t need that tonight. Your pleasure was my pleasure. If you sign the contract tomorrow, we’ll seal the deal with a good fuck. How’s that?
She nodded, unable to speak.
“Good girl. All I want is for you to be happy.”
Oh God. How can I tell him I’m so damned happy I could bust, but at the same time, I want to die? I can’t. I won’t. I won’t do anything to make him unhappy.
“I’m happy, Master.” She smiled to prove it.
***
Fuck. Fuck. Double fuck. Cluster fuck a duck!
Todd hit the print button and watched in horror as the printer spit out the multi-page contract. He’d meant only to teach Brooke a lesson, but somewhere in the process, she’d gotten under his skin, and like a bad rash, the only way to get rid of her was to wait it out.
He had less than six months to do it then he’d be off to whatever team in whatever city would pay the most for his services.
The day before, that had sounded like the best idea he’d ever had, but today he felt like a street corner whore. And it was all because of one unexpectedly addictive sub. Hell, he didn’t even know her last name, and she didn’t know his. She wasn’t going to know his.
They’d talked for a while the night before, and he’d learned she owned a successful but demanding specialty bakery in a nearby suburb. She’d barely had time for a social life since the place opened two years ago, which accounted for her rudimentary knowledge of the lifestyle. He’d told her he was a contractor, working for the highest bidder.
It wasn’t exactly a lie, but close enough to the truth. He wished she didn’t have to work so hard, but long hours in a hot kitchen kept her from keeping up with the news, especially the sports broadcasts. She didn’t know who he was, and he wanted to keep it that way. Their relationship was strictly sex and, per the contract he just printed out, to take place within the confines of The Dungeon, where absolutely no one discussed their life outside those walls.
Later, at the clubhouse, he told himself the contract meant nothing. Slipping his jacket off and hanging it in his clubhouse locker, he made sure the envelope containing the document wasn’t visible in the breast pocket before he flicked open the cuffs on his dress shirt. He wasn’t as careful these days to hide his involvement in the BDSM lifestyle, but he didn’t want to explain to anyone, least of all one of the reporters hanging around, that he had a contract of any kind in his pocket.
Contracts. Necessary evils in his profession. The Mustangs had been good to him, paid him well for the years he’d been with them, but all good things had to come to an end. His contract with the Mustangs would expire at the end of the season, as would the one in his pocket. He’d made up his mind to leave, to look somewhere else for whatever it was that was missing in his life.
“Hey.”
Todd glanced up from tying his cleats to see Jeff Holder, the Mustangs ace closer, standing over him. “Hey, Jeff. What’s up?”
“Not much. What’s with the scowl? You got something particular against the Metros?”
“No man, just thinking too hard, I guess.” He made a conscious effort to relax his facial muscles.
“You should save that for the game. Don’t waste it on tying shoe laces.” Jeff clapped him on the shoulder and, with a smile, headed out of the locker room.
Shit. He should be smiling about all the money he was going to make over the next few years instead of scowling. Money would make him happy. A new city, a new team would make him happy.
He stood, automatically reaching for his cap and glove. He scanned the room. Most of his teammates were quietly going about their pregame routines. A few chatted quietly as they changed into their batting practice jerseys. He knew them all, from the veterans to the rookies, he called them friends. They shared more than a love of the game. They had each other’s backs. Like the time Tanner lost his house to a brush fire. They’d all pitched in to help him rebuild and replace some of the memorabilia he’d collected over the years.
He was going to miss these guys. They were like family to him.
So why am I leaving? I’ll never find this kind of feeling again. No other team will be like this one. Dysfunctional, the lot of them, but good guys with hearts of gold.
Bentley Randolph slapped him on the back with his glove as he passed by on his way out. “Cheer up, man. It’s a beautiful day out there.”
“Hey, Bent,” he said, forcing his lips to curve upward. “Don’t get distracted by the birds singing and the pretty, puffy white clouds. We need your full attention in left field.”
The outfielder flashed his megawatt smile and took two backward steps toward the door. “Aren’t you the funny guy today? I’ve seen the women who own the block of season tickets above the third base dugout. The ones that wear the Team Todd T-shirts. You’re the one who needs to keep his eyes on the field.”
He waved him off. “Yeah, well, you do your job, and I’ll do mine.”
Randolph gave him a mock salute, turned, and left. Todd grinned all the way to the dugout. They didn’t call him Bent for nothing. The guy had a wicked sense of humor he would miss. When things were grim, he could always be relied on to lighten the mood. His fun-loving attitude had lifted the team out of a losing funk into a winning frame of mind on numerous occasions.
He sure hoped his next team had someone like Bent.
Not likely. He’s one of a kind.
Todd managed a decent game. He wouldn’t make the sports reels tonight, no interviews, but he’d played well. No errors. A single in the third and a ground-rule double in the eighth that should have been a homerun. Probably would have been if he hadn’t been thinking about how pretty Brooke’s ass was, rosy from those first few swats, instead of focusing on the ball. Next time he put his handprint on her ass, it would be to arouse, not punish.
The thought put a smile on his face that remained there—until later that evening when he pulled into a parking space in the parking garage half a block from The Dungeon. He hadn’t offered a woman a contract in years. There simply hadn’t been anyone he’d wanted exclusively. A night of pleasure here and there had been enough—up until last night.
He pulled the envelope from his pocket. The document inside was as much for him as it was for her, particularly in regards to the termination clause. He’d modified it to state a specific date when their association would come to an end. It would be a stark reminder to both of them not to look at the months ahead as the beginning of something it could never be.
The impulse the night before to bind her to him forever had been an aberration. Her trust had momentarily blinded him to reality, and holding her afterward had been a huge mistake. One he wouldn’t repeat. From now on, he’d make sure she was in a sound frame of mind and body before he left her, but that was all. No cuddling. No talking about…stuff. They didn’t need to know anything about each other except how they liked their sex. And he was going to devote the next few months to exploring the subject in depth.
Chapter Six
Brooke looked up from studying the label on her water bottle to see Todd lounging in the doorway. In a room filled with men in leather and women in less-is-more outfits, he stood out in his tailored, navy blue suit and power tie. She imagined him presiding at the head of a table surrounded by lesser mortals, in command without uttering a single word. He was a natural born leader. It was the way he held himself, as if he knew something no one else in the room did.
She sat straighter, the slight motion drawing his attention to her. Automatically, she moved her hands to her lap and cast her gaze down in deference to his authority over her. They hadn’t agreed on terms, hadn’t signed a contract yet, but she’d mentally made a commitment and her body knew it.
He took the chair across from her at the small table she’d claimed in the back of the social area. They would have a measure of privacy to discuss the agreement She had the sudden certainty he knew a lot more about contracts than she did. He probably dealt with complicated business deals every day in his outside life, whereas the only ones she was familiar with consisted of preferences for cake flavors and whether the bride wanted fondant or butter cream frosting.
“I have a contract.” He whipped an envelope out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the table to her. “Take your time reading it. Feel free to cross out and initial anything you aren’t comfortable with. If there is something you specifically want that I’ve left out, write it in.” A pen joined the envelope on the table.
All business. No wonder he could afford expensively tailored suits. No one in his right mind would dare argue with him when he had that look of complete concentration on his face. He’d be a force to be reckoned with in the boardroom. Or the bedroom.
The thought brought a flush of heat to her skin. She quickly reached for the envelope, slid the folded contents out, and smoothed them on the table in front of her.
Professional. Concise and well written with headings, subheadings, and bullet points. Either he’d done many of these or he had a secretary who did it for him. Lord, she hoped not. This was too personal for anyone else to see.
“My safe word is soccer?” she asked, latching on to the least personal item of all.
“Do you have something else in mind?”
She shook her head. “No. I wasn’t expecting that to be part of the contract. Can I ask why that particular word?”
“It will get my attention.” His smile, all playful innocence, lit a fire in her belly.
She had an overwhelming urge to crawl across the table, wrap herself around him, and kiss him. “Oh. You’re a soccer fan?” she asked instead.
The smile disappeared, replaced by the stern business face, which held its own appeal. Her heart skipped a beat.
“No personal questions.” He gestured to the creased papers. “It’s in there.”
Sure enough. Section two. Point three. “No discussion of our lives outside the confines of The Dungeon will be allowed except when pertinent to arranged meeting times or when they might otherwise interfere with the terms of this contract.”
“What, exactly, does that mean?”
“My job takes me out of town frequently. It will be necessary at times to discuss travel dates, as they will impact when I can be here for you. You might have late nights or early mornings at work, family obligations. If you have a swim party coming up, you might ask that I not leave any marks that would show when you wear your swimsuit. These are things I need to know.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your consideration.”
“I’ll always take care of you. Sometimes, like last night, it will be necessary to punish you. I don’t enjoy leaving those marks, but I do like to see evidence of the pleasure I bring you. Certain marks are meant to be reminders, to extend the pleasure for as long as they last, for
you and for me.”
Her ass was still pink from his punishment. It didn’t take much to leave a mark on her fair skin, and they tended to linger, sometimes for days. “I understand.”
She read on. At the end was a list of various types of play with instructions to put a checkmark beside the ones she absolutely did not want to explore. Hard limits. He remained silent while she read, considered, and checked off boxes. When she finished, she was surprised to see how few she had ruled out. She slid the completed forms across the table.
Wringing her hands in her lap, she waited while he flipped through the pages. She hadn’t made any changes, but she guessed he wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed something. When he got to the last page, he took his time with the list of hard limits. At the end, his gaze moved back up the page to one particular item she had left unchecked.
“You like to be watched?” he asked, one eyebrow elevated.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s a fantasy of mine, you know?” She paused, searching for the right way to express herself.
“I need to know,” he said, encouraging her. “I can’t make your fantasy come true if you don’t clue me in.”
“I know. It’s just…I don’t want just anyone to watch. I want you to watch.”
“That’s why you didn’t check off additional partners.”
“It’s just a thought. I’m not sure I would want to do it, but I didn’t want to mark it as a definite hard limit. Just in case.” She was babbling, talking too fast to cover her nervous embarrassment. If she couldn’t voice her fantasy to the man she wanted to make it a reality, how on earth could she ever go through with it?
“We’ll see. I’m not opposed to the idea. We have a limited time together, and I want to help you explore your limits. See what you’re capable of. So, when I’m gone and you seek out another master, you’ll have a better understanding of your submissive nature.”
“About that,” she said. “You’re leaving in November?”