by Riley Murphy
“Good. Promise me something else.”
“Are you in a tunnel? You sound like it.”
“I’m under Wilde’s desk. Block this number when we hang up just in case I don’t delete it in time. I don’t want him calling and somehow getting Cannon. If I need to talk to you again I’ll find another phone.”
“Why would Cannon answer my phone? No matter. I will. You’re hiding from him? What happened? He should have left you alone once he found out you didn’t have the tattoo.”
“But I did have the pills.”
Charlie slammed her eyes shut and then opened them. “I’m sorry. Didn’t you get my last text?”
“It came in, but unfortunately Jude caught me trying to delete it. He was able to read it before I got rid of it.”
“So he knows? Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Fine. I’ve convinced him I wasn’t the thief. I was only the stupid drug mule who inadvertently helped the real thief. This is a cake-walk.”
“Catherine.”
“Really. If you looked up his name in the street cred handbook, you’d find the description vanilla pudding pop. Don’t sweat it.”
That was it. She didn’t say any more, so Charlie did as she promised and blocked the number, even as she thought about how messy her perfect plans were turning out to be.
“All set?”
Reluctantly she eyed Cannon’s giant silhouette filling up the doorway, and tried one more time. “Are we going somewhere?”
“To my place.”
Yup, she should have left that destination unconfirmed. It was one thing to guess and another to know for absolute certainty. Standing, she moved to gather her things as quickly as possible. When she arrived at the spot directly in front of him, she looked up. “Don’t you mean lair?”
“I prefer den.”
She figured he’d chosen that term because he called her tiger earlier. “Tigers don’t sleep in dens. They usually sleep next to their kill.”
“I don’t see myself as a tiger. I see myself as a lion. Lions sleep in dens.” He paused and tilted his head to the right, letting his dark gaze rake her from head to toe and back again before he nodded. “But you make a good point. Tigers sleep next to their kill, so maybe I am a tiger after all. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
What was that supposed to mean? He slayed women with his sexual powers of persuasion, and then slept next to them when they were too dead to move afterward? “Funny, the animal I see you as is one belonging to the Suidae family. A chauvinist one.”
The second that left her mouth she wanted to grab it back. Before he read the panic in her eyes she turned her gaze away and stared at the door frame, praying he’d let the insult go.
“I can help you with that, Catherine.”
The soft tone of his voice surprised her almost as much as his palm cupping the underside of her chin. She had to look. She couldn’t stop herself. She also had to ask, “Help me with what?”
“This.” He lifted his thumb, and the warm, hard, pad outlined the whole shape of her lips before he quickly tapped on her mouth, leaning down to huskily whisper in her ear, “It’s quite big and naughty. Nothing a ball gag can’t fix.”
Chapter Five
Neil was completely mystified by Catherine. He kept his eyes on the road, but glanced every once in a while in her direction. When she sat still and quiet as she currently was, it was hard to reconcile the conclusions he’d come to about her.
At first he’d thought she was a precocious sub trying to get his attention. The snail mail letter she’d sent him smacked of brattiness and there was nothing he found appealing about that. But then he changed his mind when he came face to face with her. There was more to her behavior than wanting a strong man’s guidance and although that had somewhat intrigued him, he’d been prepared to let it go. If only she hadn’t been so sassy, leaving the second note in his truck. When he found it the Dom inside took its first deep breath in two full years, and caused him to act without thinking. He’d moved forward without looking back. He’d called her boss and made plans that involved her. It wasn’t until after he spoke with Max, and he’d calmed down, that he’d realized he needed to cancel the whole “dealing with her” idea because he was thinking with his dick not his head. Why had he picked up her voicemail message? That cry for help couldn’t be ignored. And yet…?
He covertly studied her profile while they sat at the last red light before they reached the gate leading into his neighborhood. Was he wrong about her? His guess? She had no idea where the hatred stemmed from. Maybe that’s why he was getting mixed signals. One minute he was convinced she despised the male vanilla population exclusively, but then in the next it seemed she hated all men, especially him. Unfortunately, it was when she was in the “hating him” mode that he really got turned on by her. No surprise there. He’d been stuck in neutral for so long he needed her vagitarian-fueled insults to get his engine revving. This is what he’d been missing. The prospect of chasing a desirable woman who seemingly didn’t want to be caught.
So what was with the original note and then the voicemail message? Both of those things screamed, “Catch me. Help me.”
“Hello?”
He blinked and then scowled when he realized she was looking at him. “Yes?”
“The light’s green.”
Her demure tone, unlike when she was talking with Max earlier, was totally sincere now. Why? Who was she? The sub who needed help, or the self-possessed woman he wanted to dominate?
He gave a curt nod toward her buckled seatbelt. “I’m glad you don’t mind wearing restraints.”
“What? Why would you make a comment like that?”
“Because it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
He’d let her glean from that what she would, being that the street—his street—beyond the security gate he’d just passed through had most recently been paved. There wasn’t a pothole, a bump, or a speck to be found.
“This is it.” After the garage door was fully open he pulled his Mercedes in and then cut the engine.
“Nice mansion. Do you live here all by yourself?”
He reached over and placed his hand over hers on the door handle. “Don’t.”
“I was only going to let myself out.”
Taking note of her genuine confusion, he sighed and then straightened back into his seat. “Not when you’re with me. I get the door. What kind of men have you been spending time with?”
Chivalry may be dead to some degree in the vanilla world, but in his it was not only alive, but thriving.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
He met her steady gaze. “And I don’t think that was a very polite response. Would you like to try again?”
“Not particularly.”
“All right.” Neil wasn’t going to sit and argue in the car. There were plenty of better places in the house to squabble with her. He could think of one room that would be perfect to test the brass on the balls she was packing. “We’ll let that response stand as rude.”
He did her a favor and exited before she could answer him. Unfortunately, the second he opened her door and helped her out, she replied, “That wasn’t rude. Rude would have been me telling you to mind your own goddamn business.”
When she uttered that last word she executed a defiant toss of her head that sent glossy ginger curls swaying behind her. He didn’t have time to admire the sensual effect. He was too busy keeping his molars from flattening each other in a grind.
“So, you know, that’s why I didn’t say it,” she rushed out. Almost as if she’d realized her mistake and was attempting to correct it. Regrettably, for her, this was not an easy fix.
He indicated to the passenger seat with one hand while holding the door open with the other. “Get back in the car.”
“Why?”
She knew why. The answer was written all over her guilty face. This behavior was beyond bratty sub. It wasn’t even the signs of a hosti
le switch. He’d given that idea some thought. No, the fact of the matter was, she was different, and he was digging the difference too much. He wanted to commit himself to the challenge she presented, but he wasn’t sure she was ready for his unique methods. “I think you made the wrong choice back at the club. You don’t want to be here.”
Her eyes widened in panic. “I do. I swear I do.”
Odd, but he believed her. “Why?”
“You said it yourself. I have a big mouth. That’s my problem.”
The truth twisted around a lie. Maybe not a lie, but a declaration she didn’t believe. “If you think your mouth is the only reason you’re here, you’d be wrong.”
“Oh?”
There was just no figuring her out. How could she be confused after what she’d pulled on his vanilla guys? “I’m going to give you one more chance to go, before you commit to stay. And by stay I mean remain in my keeping, train under my guidance, and adhere to my methods, rules and rituals.”
“What about desires?”
Her whisper was quiet and direct. Being that she’d attached no bitchy attitude to it he answered her. “If you think I’m lusting after you, think again. I want to know what you’ve got between your ears, before I explore what’s between your legs.”
Him slamming the door almost drowned out her gasp. Almost, but not quite. “How dare you.”
This was the second time she’d thrown out that inane phrase. “You see that door?” He pointed towards the entrance to the house. “Once we go inside, that is all I’m going to be doing. Punishing you. Daring you. Pushing you. So right now, I want you to think long and hard about all the possibilities before you fully commit to me. Are you a submissive?”
“Sure. Yeah. Of course. I most definitely am a…a…”
“Submissive?” he offered when she couldn’t spit it out. What the hell was wrong with her? The expression on her face suggested she was hiding something.
“Yes, I am, and I’m ready to get this… I mean, I’m ready to go inside.”
“Not so fast there, tiger.” He took hold of her arm when she tried to brush past, and waited for her to look up at him. “I want you to know that whatever you’re hiding won’t be a secret too much longer. I don’t like secrets. They have a tendency to muddy the waters in a power exchange. Instead I like to deal in honesty. I like my subs to know what they can expect from me and what I expect from them in return.”
“Is that what I am? Your sub?”
He should have said a sub. Damn. If he backtracked now he’d be setting a bad precedent. “Yes. The second you walk through that door you’re mine until the lesson is over.”
She searched his eyes and he knew what she was looking for. Weakness. Too bad she’d find none. “Okay, what can I expect? That you’re going to school me about my bad behavior with your service guys?”
“No, for that you’re going to be punished.” It was his turn to search her eyes. They were tilted up at the corners, cat-like. Nice. That’s why he’d dubbed her tiger. They were also a clear hazel color. A mix of pale blue and deep greens that changed shades depending on her mood. Suddenly they brightened and he knew what that meant. More of her sarcasm.
“I wonder what kind of card Hallmark has for this occasion.”
He tried his best not to grin as he didn’t want to encourage her, and led her to the door. “I’d advise them to go with a Scrooge type theme.”
“Christmas? But it’s only September. Shouldn’t it be a fall theme?” She made a noise that reminded him of haha before she said, “As in a sub falls across the guy’s lap and gets spanked.”
His hand was on the doorknob, he turned the handle but stopped midway when those words sunk in. “The. Guy?”
She nodded which made him frown.
It was as if she had no idea about protocol or respect. “Are you sure your name is Catherine Wood?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Positive. What’s behind that door?”
He guessed she was pointing to the pedestrian door that lead to his baby’s showroom. Didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to answer her.
“It’s the third garage, isn’t it? Why is it closed off from these two?”
Being a car person and having her own “garage showroom” she was clearly stalling for time. So here again he didn’t answer.
She angled a look around him. After a second or two, nothing but her gaze shifted back to him. “Is it your dungeon?”
He did a double take. The action must have bothered her because she sputtered.
“Forget I…ah, asked. Why Scrooge?”
There were two things he didn’t like about her automatic reply. One she’d been too quick to make it and two, she segued right off her own topic of the dungeon without a blink. He opened the door and moved aside, letting her go ahead of him. “I think it’s fitting because you’re going to meet the ghosts of poor decisions from your past. The best part about this is if I introduce you correctly I think the ghosts of your present and any future ones will show themselves.”
“Present ones?”
He helped her reposition her purse that had slid off her shoulder and grabbed her hand even as she dragged her feet. “Come on. We’re almost there. Are you telling me you don’t have anything that haunts you?”
“What do you mean by anything?”
“It’s fairly obvious, isn’t it? Something that weighs you down. A secret. A lie. A bad deed done. We all have them. It’s just some of us can breathe easier under their burden than others.”
“Is that a sexist comment? I think it was. Are you saying because I’m a woman I can’t take my nefarious deeds to the grave? I can, you know. I’m going to, so you can just— What is that?”
He followed her stare and when his gaze landed on the subject in question, he grinned. “Catherine, meet your ghosts.”
Charlie stopped, took one look at the saddle thingie with items tied around the hilt or pummel—she couldn’t remember what the hand grip thing was called, she’d only gone trail riding once—horn—and scowled. “Is that a package of men’s underwear hanging on that thing?”
“This is not a thing.” He walked over to it and placed his hand on the worn leather seat. “It’s a real saddle made into a stool. I had the craftsman tweak certain aspects for obvious reasons, but to answer you, yes. Briefs, not boxers. You know why.”
No she didn’t. She really, really didn’t. “I have my own things in the car. My sleeping bag too, so ah…” She put her purse down, having no idea how to tactfully decline whatever he wanted her to do with those undies. Maybe they were for him. Somehow she didn’t peg him for a tighty-whities wearer. Recalling the conversation they had earlier in the day at Cat’s, when he’d quickly brought up her panties, she started to get a bad feeling about this. Did he have an underwear fetish or something? If she had to make a bet, she would have sworn a man like him wouldn’t even wear them. “I think I’m good. Thanks anyways.”
“I very rarely say this, but eyes up here.”
Great, now he thought she was lusting after his man parts when she was only trying to use her non-existent X-ray vision to see what he had on under those pants.
“I want you to tell me what you did to Danny.”
Yeah, this wasn’t going to be good. She supposed Danny was one of his service guys that Cat messed with. Her sister was more than a little outrageous so she’d have to keep that in mind as she winged this one. After a quick inventory of the other items tied to the saddle horn, she took a deep breath and put together a possible visual for men’s underwear, a length of rope, a belt, and an apple. “I made him wear his underwear on his head, then I tied him to a stool with the rope, smacked his bottom with the belt and I ate the apple in between taking breaks.”
He didn’t look impressed. Truth be told he looked like a man who was staring at paint peeling. “Breaks?”
She nodded. “When I had to stop on account of my arm getting tired from brandishing the belt strokes.” She threw in a couple of arm waves
to really sell the idea.
“If you’re trying to amuse me you’re doing a piss-poor job of it.”
If he knew how hard she was trying not to do that very thing he’d be singing a different tune. She was going to kill Cat when she saw her again. “Look, I didn’t want to have to say this, but I guess you’ve left me with no choice. I can’t tell you what I did to Danny because, well, quite frankly, he wasn’t the only service guy I messed with. You obviously know what I did so you tell me.”
One by one he took each item off the saddle and made a neat pile on the floor with them. Then he yanked the last item, the bag of briefs, off the horn so fast the plastic ripped. “You made him strip and then you gave him a pair of your thongs to wear. After which you stuck him in the corner for a timeout.”
Alrighty, connecting those dots was looking pretty grim. “So you want me to strip and wear men’s briefs? Is that it?”
“No, that’s not it.” Oh boy, he was furious. This wasn’t the egotistical, dark, and sexy Dom guy she’d been hanging with over the last hour. This was an irate boss who was going to protect his crew from her sister’s kinky shit. “After you have them on you’re going to stand in that corner.” He swept an arm to the far side of the room and she really wished he hadn’t. There was a large metal stand with an attached pole shaped like a shepherd’s crook. It was the kind of contraption a punching bag hangs from at a gym. Only there was no bag. Just a set of cuffs dangling in full view. “Then you’re going to tell me how you feel. When I’m satisfied with your answer, so it better be good, you’re going take off the briefs and bend yourself over that saddle seat. Once I tie you the way you tied Eric, I’m going to make you tell me a dirty story. I believe your stipulation to him that day was that he had to get his own dick hard during the telling, so you getting yourself wet? That’s the end game of your story. When you’ve accomplished that I’m going to cuff you over there and use the belt on you. The same way you used it on Jordan, only harder as I’ll be tanning your ass with it so you’ll think twice before you pull this kind of shit again.”