Red Hots

by Hines, Yvette

  A warm glow had sat in her core as she felt heated by the knowledge that her situation was a secret between her and Masaun.

  As calming as it had been to her psyche and rousing to her body, she had major doubts about Masaun’s next tasking. It was one thing to be bare beneath a coat going directly to his home or being spanked in the privacy of his playroom, but not wearing panties to work, to court and trying a case was beyond her forbearance.

  I didn’t sign on for this. There is no way this man is going to dominate me even during my work day.

  With feminist indignation, she picked up her phone and started to text him back. However, she didn’t have time to go back and forth with him by text when she was about to get into her car and drive. Instead, she pulled up the store number she had logged in under his contact as well. She recalled on the card that the store was not set to open until nine in the morning, same time she would be in court starting with her first witness for the day. It was seven now and even if he came into work an hour early, she’d be at work with her phone silenced. When people wanted to get in touch with her while she was in court, they knew to contact her paralegal, and if it had to do with her current case, Lindsey would signal her. Masaun didn’t have that number.

  Smiling to herself, knowing that she was about to one up the commanding man, she waited through the fourth ring for the answering machine to pick up. When it did, she listened to the message about the store hours and where they were located and once it beeped that the record was on, she left her message.

  “Hello, Masaun, this is Kindle. I received your text, but I’m sorry, I’m already out of my house and unable to comply.” She rushed around her kitchen, tiptoeing so that her heels wouldn’t click against the tile. Feeling ridiculous about her stealthy actions, like Masaun had some kind of bionic hearing and would know she was lying, she still kept up the subterfuge until she had her keys and briefcase and really was headed out her door.

  “I’ll see you Wednesday night after work, though.” Then while she stood beside her car she thought about yesterday and how what he’d done had helped her. Wishing she didn’t feel the warm glow spreading within her again, she began pressing her lips closer to the phone and lowering her voice, “I wanted to tell you how much the span—”

  “Ms. Langston, a quick word please.”

  Startled, Kindle pressed the end button and turned around to meet a local reporter she’d seen a few times since the case had started. She glanced around to ensure other reporters or station vans were not parked outside of her condo. The street was filled but with people hustling off to work by car or on foot and a few joggers. Zeroing her gaze in on the young, fair-skinned African-American man with his recorder in her face, she asked, “What are you doing at my home?”

  “I’m Jonathon Camp from WAVE 7 news. I just have a few questions to ask you about the case.” He had the nerve to smile as if some kind of green-eyed charm would help smooth away the disregard for her privacy in his actions.

  “I know who you are and I don’t care. If you have questions for me, you wait outside the courtroom like everyone else. Keep away from my home.” Grabbing her driver side door, she yanked it open and got in, letting the pretty boy reporter know that she was done.

  “There’s freedom of the press!” he yelled still standing at the back end of the driver side of her car.

  This is called running you over if you don’t get your ass out of my way. She kept that thought to herself, experienced enough to know that a young reporter bucking for a spot on the anchor desk or as production manager wouldn’t hesitate to have her words recorded and played for the public in sound bites.

  Rolling down her window, she instead informed him as she backed out and passed him. “This is private property. The next time you decide to exercise your freedom, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.” Window back up, she drove off.

  Pissed, she did not even spare him a glance in her rearview mirror.

  Oh, no, today was not the day to be pantiless. This event was evidence that today would be a beast of a day in the courtroom.

  She thought she felt the tension of indignation along her spine that caused the muscles in her shoulders to start burning, in response to the emotional and physical turmoil. As she continued her routine route from Ghent to the courthouse, her hands squeezed tighter and tighter around the steering wheel until she could just feel the tips of her nails barely pressing into the heel of her palm. Focusing on the subtle sting, she began taking deep breaths.

  Already she knew, this was going to be one hell of a day.

  She was tempted to call Masaun and ask him if she could come by tonight instead of tomorrow. However, she stifled the compulsion and kept driving. This man wasn’t always going to be in her life, so she needed to guard herself against becoming attached.

  Thankfully everyone else on I-264 must have been running behind schedule because she made great time in getting to work.

  ~YH~

  Masaun stared at the flashing message button on his desk phone. It hadn’t surprised him that Kindle had opted to call his office in response to his text command. She was a strong, confident attorney, but he was learning that she veered away from confrontations in her personal life.

  He had expected her to rant and rave over his demand. She was new to the elements of the lifestyle and generally leaped with the developed skills of her occupation and self-preservation first—being autonomous. Kindle didn’t like to lean on anyone else for support. Even when he knew her natural instinct was that of a submissive. She proved that more and more with each of their interactions.

  Most likely, Kindle had called the office because she hadn’t anticipated him being there so early. However, because the shop dealt with perishable goods, they had a contract with UPS for early delivery, and he was always in the store two hours early to greet it. While bringing the packages back to the kitchen storage for Sweet to go through, Masaun had heard the phone. He’d glanced over at the wall phone in the kitchen and seen Kindle’s number. The phone had rung two more times.

  He hadn’t answered it, but strolled to his office and saw the message indicator.

  Moving to the phone, he pressed the button to retrieve the messages. The first was a call about a certain type of candy the person wanted to know if they carried; a favorite of their husband’s. Then the room was filled with Kindle’s silken voice as she waffled through an excuse of why she couldn’t comply with his command.

  Hearing her brought back the memories that were never too far away over the past two days of her. He recalled the sweet, erotic sound of her breathless, husky voice calling out his name—a song to his soul.

  There was a pause before Kindle started to talk about the effects of their last session then the call was abruptly ended. He figured she’d lost her nerve, or decided it was best for her to keep up with her formidable persona. The one that showed anyone who tried to get close to her that she was fine on her own.

  When the message ended, he deleted it. Less than sixty seconds later, he was walking out of the store, securing it until Hanson arrived. As the day’s opening employee, Hanson was responsible for stocking the case with the fresh handmade chocolates and candy Sweet had created the night before, as well as restocking the shelves and preparing the store to receive the influx of customers throughout the day.

  He would be back in time to give Hanson a hand before the store opened. However, for once, the candy shop would have to wait. It was time for Kindle to discover what manner of Dom she was dealing with.

  ~YH~

  Once she was in her office, she felt a little less agitated by the intruding reporter as she pulled the case files on the witnesses she had lined up for the day and her notes from last night. She still had about thirty minutes before she expected her team. Besides her and Dennis Hardaway, another Assistant Commonwealth Attorney who was just as much a go getter as herself, the floor was empty and quiet, something she needed at the moment.

  “I believe you owe
me something.”

  Her body tensed and heat instantly started simmering in her core. Not the warm glow she’d felt earlier, but more intense, now, because Masaun was actually there. No memory, in the flesh.

  She didn’t even need to look up to confirm he was the one who spoke to her, not with the response her body was having—sex pulsing with each beat of her heart. Still she raised her head anyway and met his gaze. Those laurel eyes were clear, and his features calm, not giving away a hint of the emotions on the inside. She figured he had to be angry if he’d driven to her workplace.

  Where they were and knowing the significance of his presence in her life caused her anger to rise. How dare he come here? Was this his plan all along? He couldn’t have gotten her message so soon and driven, even from downtown, to the courthouse in the forty-five minutes since she’d left the message. Maybe he intended to try and spank her before she went to court. That wasn’t going to happen.

  He stood only a few feet inside of her office, dressed in a similar outfit to the one he’d worn the first time she’d met him, but his slacks were a different color. The desire to see him as he’d been Wednesday night, shirtless with a fine sheen of sweat coating his torso, made her sex slick with her cream. She swallowed, pushing that thought away for a later time.

  “Masaun, look, I don’t have time right now to get into anything with you.”

  His left eyebrow ticked up. “I know you got my text message.”

  Shit. All I need is for Dennis to hear him and come in to investigate. Pushing up, she hustled across the room to the door and closed it. Pressing her back against it, she said, “I did. I left you a response.”

  He didn’t turn, he glanced at her over his shoulder, pinning her with his intense gaze. “I got it. I don’t recall requesting a response in my text.”

  Shoving away from the door, she strutted back to her desk. “It was an unreasonable request.”

  “I’ll look into considering your outlook next time.”

  Doubtful. Refusing to cave on this issue, she folded her arms under her breasts and met his stare. “As I explained to you on your answering machi—”

  “I don’t tolerate avoidance tactics.”

  She opened her mouth to deny his deduction of why she’d called his work phone, but knew she was caught and any contradiction she voiced would be a lie. Pressing her lips together, she balled her hands into fists and exhaled.

  His gaze lowered to her hands then returned to her face, knowing.

  Shocked that he’d nailed her deed, she dropped her hands and glanced down to her desk. The notes she wanted to go over were staring back up at her, she needed to get the overbearing man out of her office before her staff descended on their private talk.

  Raising her head, she tried to reason with him. “Masaun, I agreed to meet you twice a week for…instruction, shall we say, but you can’t expect me to submit to your will in other areas of my life. Remember, I’m not looking for someone to Master me. Just like you said you weren’t interested in a full-time submissive, a slave.”

  Slowly he moved forward, closing the distance between the two of them as he spoke. “If I was Mastering you, I would have been at your house this morning selecting your clothing. I would have given you a list of what I expected you to eat today. Followed by how and when to go into the office then end it by telling you how often I expected you to call me today and what time I wanted you home. And that would only be the tip of the iceberg of my Mastering you.”

  Every time he uttered the word Mastering, she could almost feel the smacks to her ass like he’d given her Sunday night. She swallowed. Somewhere inside herself, a small corner she normally didn’t recognize, but had begun to beleaguer her insistently since meeting Masaun, shivered at the reminder of submitting herself to his discipline.

  Oh, shit. Did Emmalee go through those kinds of things every day?

  She had to make him understand. “Masaun—”

  “Song Sparrow.”

  “Sir.” The title seemed to spring out of her mouth before her brain could react and stop it. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, a part of her wanting to call it back.

  A half smile, knowing, appeared on his mouth, but the intensity in his gaze still remained. “I’m not leaving without your panties.”

  Without them. He’d only told her to take them off. Which meant the if she gave in to the asinine request they would still be in her possession to put them back on before she went to court.

  “Sir,” she began, understanding that when he was in this mood it was the only name he’d hear. “Permission to speak?”

  “No.”

  No.

  He held his hand out. “Your panties, Song Sparrow, and don’t make me repeat myself.”

  She stood there, hands at her side, debating. Beyond her door she could hear the low murmur of morning greetings passed between coworkers and the executive assistant’s phone already starting its incessant ringing for the day. Soon, her team would start knocking on her door ready to meet. Tightening her lips, she aimed a heated stare at the man before her. He was leaving her little choice.

  At an impasse, they faced off, neither of them moving for long moments.

  The first knock came.

  Her heart started to race.

  Masaun hadn’t moved. His eyes now a stone grey, held hers as his steady hand hovered over her desk between them.

  He’d denied her permission to speak. Did that mean she wasn’t allowed to call out to her staff that she would be right there?

  She parted her lips, only to see a single eyebrow arch high above his left eye.

  She stopped.

  A second knock came and this time voices directly outside her door spoke in questioning tones, wondering if she was in, if they should just open the door and check, and asking if anyone had seen her this morning and how odd it was that she wasn’t in.

  If she didn’t make a decision soon, she’d have more than a little explaining to do. Not willing to risk a third knock or one bold team member strutting in while she was in the process of removing her panties, she acted. Making haste, she stepped out of her heels, unfastened her pants and shoved them toward the floor with her underwear. Pulling them off her feet then quickly grabbing her panties in her fist as she pulled her pants back up.

  Like an ominous statue, he still stood in the same position, gaze locked on her face.

  After fastening her pants, she took a deep breath to fortify herself for what she was about to do. Lifting her hand, she placed the silken item in his palm still warm from her body.

  He curled his fingers around her lilac frost lace cheekini panties; a match to the bra she still wore.

  Her cheeks warmed as her pulse beat even faster. Without her underwear on, she felt self-conscious and naked even though she was still dressed.

  However, she couldn’t deny the hum of naughty excitement curling around the base of her spine and into her abdomen. She’d never dealt with a man like Masaun before, and she knew once this was over she never would again.

  “Thank you, Song Sparrow.” He placed his fist and the delicate garment deep into his pocket. Turning he walked to the door and pulled it open just as the third knock was sounding.

  Smoothly she stepped into her heels as she witnessed the stunned faces of the four people on her team. Like a nineteen fifties sitcom comedy act, they all glanced from Masaun to her then back to Masaun again.

  Masaun turned, locking his intense gaze on her, giving her a curt nod before he unapologetically walked away, leaving her to deal with her team.

  “Come on in, everyone, I’ll be ready to start in a moment.”

  ~YH~

  “So, tell me, Emmalee, have you ever gone to work without underwear on?”

  Kindle’s friend sat across the desk from her, chewing a mouthful of her salmon salad. The square plastic container was divided into four equal sections. In one section was the creamy salad on a bed of fresh spinach leaves, the other held a mixture of yogurt, blueb
erries and slices of bananas, the third area was filled with cherry tomatoes and the final square held two small pieces of toasted, dark rye and a corner of pistachios and chocolate chips. The lunch brought to mind what Masaun had said that morning about how a Master commanded his sub’s day. She wondered if Randolph had prepared Emmalee’s lunch that morning or stood over her directing what she should pack. Kindle was sure Randolph would have known Emmalee was meeting Kindle in her office today for lunch, given his permission. Otherwise, Emmalee would not have been there.

  It made the basic tuna salad Kindle had delivered from the deli down the road appear slapdash and unappetizing. Even though her friend had a man who instructed every hour of her life, Emmalee was cared for, even in the small things. Kindle couldn’t help feeling a little bereft that she didn’t have someone to concern themselves with her.

  “Many times.” Emmalee picked up a tomato and popped it into her mouth. “Master Razor is fond of that directive.” She smiled. “I have to admit I kind of like it too. By the time I get home I’m so turned on I can’t think straight.”

  “Oh, so, TMI.”

  Her friend laughed. “As if there’s such a thing between us, prude.”

  “True.” Kindle ate some of her heavily mayonnaised salad and felt her stomach churn as it settled in. Picking up her sweet tea, she washed the taste out.

  “Why do you ask?” Emmalee nibbled on the corner of her toast.

  Kindle looked down into her to-go container. “No reason.”

  The crunching paused for a moment, but Emmalee remained quiet.