Reformat_of_Art_of_Submission_5-16-14-3

by Michelle

  “We should do that more often,” he said, picking up his fork and offering her a bite.

  Kellie looked down to discover that during their lip-lock, a platter of food had been placed in front of them.

  “Open up, little one.”

  “I don’t get a plate, or, at least, my own fork?” she asked, still trying to get her brain to reboot.

  “My house, my rules.” His smile took him from ruthless to charming, but she still wanted to feed herself.

  He offered the forkful of chicken again and she backed away.

  The fork returned to the platter without a sound and Mark’s heavy gaze contemplated her. She expected anger, but it wasn’t there. Not a hint of it in his eyes or his expression. Even his body language was relaxed.

  He reached over to move her hair back from her face and she froze, unsure of his intent. But he brushed her cheek with a gentle finger. “I won’t hurt you, Kellie.”

  His hand settled on the back of her neck to keep her in place and he leaned in close, whispering against her skin. “It would make me happy to feed you, Kellie. Happier than I’ve been in a long time. This is who I am, sweetheart. Won’t you give me this one pleasure?”

  His mouth grazed the sensitive skin below her ear and the sensation shot straight to her sex. Her body cooled as he moved away and when she opened her eyes, he raised that most expressive brow.

  She gave him a quick nod and opened her mouth. The bite of chicken was tasty.

  Letting him feed her was...different.

  But more than that, the light in his eyes as he fed her banished her inhibitions and insecurities. Sensuality flowed between them while the fork moved from the plate to her mouth, back to the plate and then to his mouth. Every piece of food had been prepared to perfection and sliced into bite sized chunks for their enjoyment.

  When she’d had enough, Kellie leaned away from him. “I’m stuffed, Mark. I can’t eat any more.”

  “You’re sure?” When she nodded, he took the bite he’d offered her and set the fork down.

  “The food here is delicious.” Her fingers snaked out and took the fork. She speared a chunk of chicken and lifted it to him.

  “No.”

  Kellie grinned at his suddenly surprised face. “Don’t I get to feed you, now?”

  Mark shook his head, holding out a hand for the fork. “No.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Because you haven’t earned the right to serve me.”

  ***

  The glaring light over her kitchen table made her head hurt, but she needed to finish transferring her notes before she went to bed. Too many of the women had shared similar stories, leading her to believe they’d been coached. She needed to find someone willing to give her the straight truth instead of the party line. She needed a disgruntled submissive who didn’t know Mark Harrison.

  Impossible to find, since the BDSM scene didn’t advertise for members.

  Her phone beeped again. Mark called or texted every twenty minutes but she refused to answer. He’d walked her back to her interrogation room after they’d finished dinner, and when the next girl came in, Kellie had asked her to walk her out. They’d spoken briefly in the parking lot before Kellie left for the night.

  Another sparkling version of life as a submissive hadn’t impressed her.

  Mark was pissed.

  She refused to answer his calls, but she read the texts. She’d left without telling him, without saying goodbye, without begging permission, without crawling on the floor in front of his feet, yada, yada, yada.

  He didn’t specify any of those, but the underlying tone of his comments told her he wasn’t happy.

  Then again, he wasn’t used to defiance, and she wasn’t used to compliance. They were at an impasse and, while the attraction was palpable, she feared losing herself in his world.

  The time had come to step away and find another route for the story she wanted to write.

  Her doorbell rang and she looked at the clock over the sink. A quarter past eleven. Not a good time for company. It rang again and a fist pounded on the door. Time to call the police.

  A look through the peephole changed her mind. A sexy wild man was on the other side of the door, menace pouring out of him, but it was all noise. Anything more would be the wrong kind of publicity and his business wouldn’t survive the backlash.

  “Go home,” she called through the door.

  “Let me in, Kellie. Now.”

  Well. From the sound of it, she’d pushed a little harder than she’d planned.

  “That tone of voice doesn’t work through a locked door. Go home, Mark.”

  His fist thudded against the door again.

  “We need to talk, and your neighbors don’t want to hear it.”

  “Not until you calm down.” She’d been in this spot before and opening the door was not a good idea. Once inside her home, her options lessened while his grew exponentially when she calculated his net worth and the connections he had in his pocket. No matter what she said, she’d never be recognized as the victim.

  The pounding and yelling stopped. “I just want to talk.”

  Kellie made sure the chain was latched before she cracked the door. “Speak. Don’t expect me to listen, though.”

  “Tell me why you left so abruptly.”

  No whining, but she hadn’t expected any. “It was time to come home. I got your version of life as a submissive from fifteen girls, all of them varying their statements just enough to seem truthful, but so close to the same that I can’t comprehend what you did to them. Brainwashing, maybe?”

  Mark’s head thunked against the door frame and he looked over the chain, his eyes burning a hole in her retinas, and she leaned against the molding on her side. He was just too handsome for his own good and the urge to reach out and touch his cheek made her fingers tingle. It wasn’t a game she wanted to play.

  He was too much of a master to her novice.

  Kellie blew air out of her nose, the disgusting analysis of their relationship irritating her more than his presence on her porch.

  “What do you want from me?”

  Kellie froze, her gaze glued to his. Did she say those words or had he?

  “Tell me, Kellie.”

  Thank God, they’d been his. She didn’t want to answer that question right now, knowing her body would answer for her. Too much heat moved between them every time they were in the same room. Too many random thoughts of sex pushed at her when they were together. And if she let her guard down, there’d be too many regrets on her part when they were over.

  Regrouping, she forced one word out. “Honesty.”

  “I can do that, Kellie. I have nothing to hide from you.”

  A tiny flaming sword stabbed at her heart. She couldn’t say the same to him and lying had never been high on her list of life goals. In fact, she was pretty bad at it according to her family, friends, and anyone she’d ever played cards with.

  Desperate times. Desperate lies.

  “Let me in, Kellie. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  She stared at him for a minute or two, not really afraid of what he’d do once inside her home, but what she might do. There were too many possibilities. Once he started talking in that seductive voice he wielded like a weapon, there was a distinct chance she’d roll over and give him everything he wanted and more.

  Would that be so bad? a little voice in her head whispered.

  Tempted by the devil she knew was better than being pushed around by a jerk boyfriend she thought she could trust. To get the information she needed, she’d play nice. She pushed the door closed, unhooked the chain and let the big bad wolf into her home.

  Chapter 6

  “No touching,” she said without thinking, and the grin he flashed said he knew just what she was feeling. Wrong move on her part, but she couldn’t take the words back. Instead, she took the only chair in the living room and sent him to the sofa.

  “Thank
you for letting me into your home.” Mark relaxed into the couch, his irritation gone, replaced with a demeanor of concern. But body language hinted at success.

  She’d let him in. He’d gotten his way. Her fault, not his.

  “Why did you come here?”

  “You left without a word and didn’t answer your phone or texts. I was worried about you.”

  “Worried that one of your women had spilled their guts and refuted the party line?”

  “No, Kellie. There isn’t anything to spill.” The smile was meant to pacify, but it didn’t. Well, maybe a little, but she willed herself to be immune.

  “Maybe one of your men friends accosted me. Sent me running for the door.”

  “Is that what happened, Kellie?” He flushed and an expression she’d never seen marred his face. He was—angry?

  “No.”

  Mark leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him, tension evident in his every muscle. “If anyone touches you without permission, you come straight to me. No one hurts women in my establishment, as you call it. I don’t allow bullies in my building.”

  “And if I don’t believe you? Or better yet, what if you don’t believe me when I tattle?”

  Kellie flinched when he came abruptly to his feet, and his hands rose in surrender.

  “Sorry. Sorry. I think better when I’m on my feet.” He turned to pace across the floor. “I don’t know what to say, Kellie. You have this warped idea of what my club is about and nothing I do or say changes your perspective. And for some damn reason, I can’t get you out of my head.”

  Had she frazzled the unflappable, she wondered as he measured her couch with his steps. She hadn’t thought it possible.

  Mark stopped in front of her, hands on his hips, sharp eyes on hers. Daunting, to say the least. “Do you truly want to know what a submissive’s take on the club scene is?”

  Sink or swim time, and the lie wouldn’t be easy to live with but it was her only option. “Yes. Tell me the truth and I’ll stop asking questions.”

  A smile flashed, wide and self-satisfied and instantly gone. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure. Tell me.” The sooner he told her the truth, the quicker she could get him out of her house and out of her brain. A few weeks or months away from his erotic presence should get rid of his image now stuck in her head. She hoped.

  “I can’t tell you.” The corners of his mouth curved into a Cheshire cat’s grin.

  Kellie flew to her feet. “I knew it. You don’t want me to know the real story.”

  Mark raised a finger. “Ah-ah. Let me finish.” The smile she’d glimpsed returned with a vengeance. “The only way you’ll truly understand is to be a submissive for a while.”

  Kellie dropped back into her chair. “You must be out of your mind.”

  “Not at all. The dynamics of a Dominant/submissive relationship are complicated. It can’t be explained in a conversation.”

  “No.”

  “Afraid you might like it?” he asked.

  “No.” The urge to shout her reply was squashed but not buried or forgotten. He’d wiggled into her subconscious enough to see fear and giving him more information was a bad idea. “I have no desire to hand myself to some weirdo wearing leather pants and wielding a paddle.”

  “Did you see any leather pants in my club?” he asked with a raised brow. When she didn’t reply, he said, “I didn’t think so. Texas isn’t the place for leather, especially in the warmer months. But your comment tells me you’ve been reading inappropriate material.”

  “So sue me. I like to read. It doesn’t mean I want to be a slave.”

  “If I promise no leather pants, will you agree?”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m not the submissive type.”

  “How will you ever know unless you try?”

  Her back against the figurative wall, Kellie conceded defeat. “Okay, I’ll try it your way for a day. Happy now?”

  “A week, at least. One day isn’t enough.”

  “I can’t do a week. I have to work for a living.” A week of slavery was too much to ask.

  “Next Monday is a holiday. Take the rest of this week off and work with me.”

  “You?” Damn that smile of his.

  “I wouldn’t want anyone at the club to think they were claiming you permanently, so I’ll act as your Dom. If you decide to continue at the end of the week, I’ll release you to another member.”

  “I can’t afford the membership.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I have a friend in management. I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow night.” He strode to the door and she halfheartedly followed, her mind working out the details of his proposed adventure, sure she could find a loophole allowing her escape.

  Mark’s arm snaked around her waist and pulled her against his chest, his words hot in her ear. “You won’t regret this, Kellie. And, yes, there will be intimacies. I’m going to take good care of you. I’m going to make you come until you can’t feel anything but pleasure.”

  ***

  Kellie looked around the restaurant where a few customers sipped coffee and talked companionably with friends, mostly older people out for a stroll in the neighborhood she’d driven through to get here. Dena usually suggested the coffee shop across from the office for lunch or the bar and grill at the mall, both very different from this secluded little mom and pop shop. Then she spotted Dena at a table in the back, a glass of water sitting in front of her. It wasn’t like Dena to hide in the back and Kellie’s first thought went to her friend’s relationship with Steve. Until she started going to Private Delights, Kellie liked Steve and his fastidious attention to her friend’s needs. Now she wondered what he was like as a Dom, and if he had two different personalities, one for the club and one for everywhere else.

  Was Mark a different person when away from the club?

  “Are you okay?” she asked, and then realized Dena had mirrored her question. “What’s going on? Why are we way out in the suburbs having lunch?”

  Dena smiled and shook her head. “I had a doctor’s appointment this morning, and I’ve always wanted to try the food here but never had the chance.”

  A phone beeped and both women fiddled with their cells, Dena reading a quick text and turning it off. “I just wanted a little privacy, so we could talk without worrying about who might wander into the place.”

  “You don’t want Steve to see us talking?” Kellie dropped her purse on the seat beside her and leaned halfway across the table. “Did he hurt you?”

  Dena’s expression turned liquid, like she’d had one too many margaritas and everything was fuzzy. “No, Steve never hurts me. He takes very good care of me, Kellie. I wish you’d believe me.”

  “If it’s not Steve, what’s the problem?”

  Dena fidgeted with her napkin and before she opened up, the waitress arrived with another glass of water and a one page menu. For her friend’s sake, Kellie made a quick choice,—they both did,—and the waitress left. “It’s nothing, just some tests, and you know how I hate going to the doctor.”

  “What kind of tests, Dena? You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” Kellie grabbed her friend’s wrist across the table. “Don’t make me talk until you go crazy, or, even worse, sing.”

  Dena started laughing and Kellie joined in, the joke going back to their first year in college and a boy who’d tried to date Dena by constantly talking until she agreed.

  “Lord help me, I know you’d do just that. But don’t worry about me. It was a routine screening and they drew blood. I’m fine, or I will be when the bruise goes away.”

  “Steve’s not going to be happy about the bruising?”

  Dena grimaced. “Maybe I’ll plead a headache and stay out of his sight for a day or two. He gets weird when I have marks on my body.”

  “Weird in what way?” Kellie asked. “Does he freak out?”

  With a groan, Dena sipped her water. “He b
abies me, trying to make me feel better. It’s kind of cute but after a while, I just want to be left alone.”

  “Kind of like the nonstop talking?”

  “Exactly.” They both laughed again.

  “Actually,” Dena said, “I was hoping to talk about you.”

  “Oh. Am I getting fired?” Her position at Dena’s family firm wasn’t a high-paying job, just clerical, but she didn’t want to lose it.

  Dena’s shoulders dropped and her head tipped to the side. “No. Marielle says your work ethic is wonderful and she’d like you to stay full time after you graduate.” Her eyes drifted away and Kellie’s worry made another pass at her conscience.

  “I’m worried about you and Mark. How’s that going?”

  Not really surprised, Kellie sighed. “Hell if I know. I’m not getting the information I need for my paper, but I’m going to give it another week or so.”

  “Marielle told me you asked for some time off this week. Anything you’d like to share with your best friend?”

  Now Kellie remembered why she’d hesitated to go to work at Simon Lindsay & Associates. “I’m spending a few days with Mark to...experience life as a submissive.” Dammit, there were too many words in that sentence she never wanted to say. And Dena didn’t look all that surprised.

  “You’re going to submit to Mark?”

  Kellie shrugged. “I guess so. He said it was the only way to understand the roles.”

  Dena leaned in and cupped her chin in her palm. “Have you had sex with him yet?” she whispered.

  Kellie shook her head, not willing to talk about it.

  “Honey, he’s going to eat you alive.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

  “I don’t think he’ll hurt you. He’s not into violence at all. But,” Dena flipped her hair behind her back and sighed, “Mark hasn’t had a sub for more than one night in a long time, maybe more than a year. Steve says he doesn’t do relationships.”

  “Fine with me. Better, even. I don’t want to get involved, I just want to get information and get out.”

  “What kind of info are you looking for, exactly? Isn’t your thesis on human sexuality?”