But he was so completely incredible.
Taking the last turn before the back door that led to Goldie’s overflow parking area, Megan paused to unhook the chain guarding a small, inconspicuous staircase. She barely glanced at the metal sign hanging from it announcing to the public that it was for staff use only. Megan palmed the key she’d pulled from her pocket and took the opportunity to glance back at the man following her, careful to keep her inspection casual.
Two steps below her on the stairs put Steve’s head just slightly below hers. A flash of upraised eyebrows told her he’d never been up here before. Good. Megan didn’t like the twinge of something uncomfortably like jealousy that flashed through her at the thought.
This might be something or it might be nothing—it was too soon to tell.
The early signs were good, though. His energy had called to her from the first second she’d spotted him across the room last night. He made her heart beat faster and her blood pound in her veins. Something in the way he moved and talked and looked roused the Domina in her. Like a tree in spring, she could feel the Dom energy in her rising. She was flooded with an energy that had been dormant so long she had begun to question herself.
“I didn’t know this was up here. What is it?” Steve asked.
“The old manager’s office,” Megan replied. “Jaci doesn’t use it much—too far away from the floor. She said we could borrow it.”
“How long have you known Jaci?”
Megan stepped into the room and felt for the light switch. Jaci had given her the key and shown her the room earlier that day. The room was small, measuring probably twelve feet by twelve, and, like the bar below it, had been built in the 1800’s. Unlike the public sections of the building, though, the little manager’s office had been allowed to age naturally, if ungracefully.
The desk alone occupied close to twelve square feet, its large surface area unadorned save for a banker’s lamp and a desk calendar three years out of date. A bookcase containing old ledgers, as well as a motley collection of paperback books, two mismatched chairs, and a black Naugahyde sofa so old it was the last word in retro cool were the extent of the room’s furnishings.
“A while. Since high school.” Pulling her backpack off her shoulder, Megan shoved a hand inside it, fishing for her phone. After calling up its phone book, she handed it to Steve, saying, “Would you mind ordering the pizza? Number four on the pre-sets. I’ll eat anything except bell peppers. Tell them to have it here in exactly one hour.”
When Megan looked up Steve was just standing there, phone in hand, looking at her. This could be it—where he told her what he thought and where she could get off. Before slamming the door on his way out.
Uh oh.
She hadn’t expected the moment of truth so soon.
Megan stilled. Blue-green eyes searched hers for … what? What did he see when he looked at her? An unnatural freak? Or a strong woman who could do things for him no one else could?
“Sounds like you know what you want.”
“You’re right. I do,” she said, straightening. Deciding it was best to get everything out in the open, Megan let what she was feeling show on her face. She let her eyes roam over him, from that glorious fall of bad boy hair, down strong shoulders and muscular torso, all balanced on long, tanned runner’s legs. “And if you do, too,” she concluded, eyes back on his, “you’ll take off your shirt and sit in one of those chairs. After you’ve ordered our pizza.”
Eyes kindled and nostrils flared, as though he were trying to catch the scent of her. Steve looked away long enough to find the number on the unfamiliar telephone and press the appropriate numbers. After ordering a large anchovy and onion, he ended the call and handed the telephone back to her. Except for the time necessary to dial the phone, he hadn’t taken his eyes off hers for the call.
“Anchovies? That’s taking a little bit of a chance, don’t you think?” Megan tested.
It was a ballsy move and she was inwardly thrilled. A lot of men would have opted for something plain and non-offensive, and the fact that he’d taken a risk kicked her pulse up a notch. She fought to keep her face neutral as he pulled a chair away from the wall with one hand and reached for the top button of his shirt with the other.
His fingers slid the buttons from their fastenings quickly and efficiently. Not a lot of show, just taking care of business, which was fine for a first time. If things went the way Megan hoped, there would be plenty of time for slow, teasing strips and leisurely bindings later.
Completely unbuttoned, Steve parted the material with both hands and shrugged out of it. As he did so, his back arched slightly with the movement, thrusting his well-defined pecs forward, displaying two flat male nipples pierced with small horizontal barbells.
Megan allowed a small tilt of her lips to signal her approval. He was beautiful to look at, with a light dusting of red-gold hair tapering down to a small trail that arrowed toward a taut belly lightly cobbled with muscle.
“Nice,” she encouraged. “Now lose the shirt and sit.”
Hesitating a little first, Steve tossed the shirt on the sofa and sat down slowly in wooden chair he’d selected. He sank down, his legs widening naturally to give himself room, watching her as he went.
“Not bad. We can work on speed later. I want you to reach your hands through the back of the chair and clasp them behind you. And hook your feet on the outsides of the legs. Do it now, Steve.”
She kept her tone calm and even, but with the ring of authority. Megan could tell he was doing things he’d never done before. Intellect warred with instinct and the battle showed clearly on his face. His body recognized the call and wanted to comply. But a lifetime of conditioning fought his natural impulse to obey.
The chair looked like a forties era office chair, heavy and armless, with slats evenly spaced across the back. The openings looked just wide enough for a man of Steve’s size to be able to slip his hands through. Megan watched the play of muscle across his chest as he did, the small movements of his metal-pierced nipples drawing her eye like a magnet and making her teeth and lips itch in anticipation.
Reaching once again into her backpack, Megan retrieved an envelope. She pulled the remaining chair the office contained in front of Steve, just out of reach were he to change his mind and pull his arms from where they rested behind him. Megan removed the contents of the envelope and sat down opposite Steve.
“Before we get started, we need to go over a few rules first.”
Chapter Four
Rules?
What the hell was that all about?
Steve was puzzled as hell. And more turned on than he could ever remember being before. Turned on. Shit. He was practically panting with anticipation. He’d been stiff as a lead pipe since Megan’s hand had ‘accidentally’ brushed his fly. And like the mercury on a hot day, he’d risen with the heat.
She was sitting just out of reach, holding a business-sized envelope; the way it bulged told him it held more than just a single sheet of paper. The hands that held the packet were neat with short, unpolished nails. The eyes that looked down momentarily were equally free of enhancements. Her clothes were nothing special, either. So why did he find her the most attractive woman he’d ever met?
The whole package that Megan presented looked wholesome and clean. Good enough to eat. Steve moved his hands to grip the chair to keep himself from reaching for her. He wanted to dive into her. Bury his head between her legs and eat her sweet little pussy until she came, screaming his name.
And he could do it, too. If only she’d let him.
A grin breaking through at the thought, Steve was momentarily distracted from the matter of the envelope and the papers they held. It took the dry flick of Megan opening the envelope to draw him back.
Unfolding the mass, she said, “I want you to have these. They’re copies of my driver’s license, my work information…” She peeled pages off the stack, coolly efficient as she ticked them off. “And a summary of my la
st physical. Here, go ahead and take them. You should look them over.”
Steve unwound his hands from the back of the chair to take what Megan was holding out to him.
The driver’s license told him she was older than she looked. Twenty-five to his own twenty-eight. He’d bet that baby face got her carded any place they didn’t know her, though. The W-2 form was dated less than six months ago and showed her to be an employee of Bonner Food Service, d.b.a. “Christy’s Catering.” The health summary was printed on letterhead from a major health plan in San Francisco, declaring Megan Mussina to be healthy and free of sexually transmitted diseases.
“We won’t do much tonight. I’d like to see the same information from you first.”
He might have thought it was a joke—something Megan had been put up to by his older brother Rick. But one look in her burnt chocolate eyes told him she was stone cold serious.
“What the fuck is this?” Steve asked, finally. “You’ve got me hot as hell, lady. But I’ve gotta tell you, this is the weirdest fu—first date I’ve ever had.”
God knew he’d done a lot in the name of getting laid. Steve had been shoe shopping. Been grilled by suspicious fathers. And he’d been dragged to more chick films than he could come close to remembering, let alone name. Be he’d never—ever—been stripped half-naked and asked to submit paperwork.
“What is this? A date or a job interview?”
“Mmm. How about a little of both?” She didn’t fidget or drum her fingers. The woman who looked back at him had the kind of calm he associated with surgeons and fighter pilots.
“It’s also about safety.
And trust.
And maybe the most intense sexual experience of your life.
But you’ve got to trust your partner. And know that, no matter what, you’re safe. There are a lot of nutballs out there and bad things can happen. So I want you to know who you’re dealing with. Just like I want to know who I’m dealing with. Anyone who isn’t willing to give you that should make you walk away in a heartbeat.”
Steve couldn’t help the shout of laughter that erupted at that last bit.
“Ha! About the worst thing that I can imagine happening would be not getting to fuck you blind. If that’s what we’re talking about, show me where to sign, sweet thing. I am more than ready.”
“I’m serious about this, Steve. And you’d better be, too. If you don’t feel what I feel—and I’m talking some pretty incredible chemistry here—that’s okay. No harm, no foul. We walk away right now. Because nothing is more important than safety. If you can’t live with that, we’ll just say good night and goodbye.”
A knee-jerk rejection of the idea arose in him, and Steve opened his mouth to protest. But whatever he was going to say was squelched in an instant with one look from Megan.
“Stop,” she silenced him. “Before you say anything, stop. And think. Think about what you want.” He felt the weight of her words press down on them both. The seconds of silence spun out between them as Steve did as she directed. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to be thinking about, though. He knew he wanted her. Wanted her with a fierceness he couldn’t recall feeling with any other woman and didn’t pretend to understand. He wanted to drive himself into her, over and over. Take her. Make her his.
A series of pictures of the two of them sprang fully-formed into his head. One after another, like a series of stop-action photos, they flashed across his mind.
Both naked. Sweaty. Limbs tangled. Two bodies so hot you could feel the steam rise off of them. Droplets of moisture run down her torso. One hand gripped her pussy, thumb on her clit. Another hand held her ass, driving her down on his rampant cock. Her head thrown back as she comes, screaming his name. Back arched, frozen in time, her hands clutch his chest. She slumps forward along his body, limp and satisfied from something only he could give her. A contented—okay, smug—grin breaks across his face.
Steve pulled himself back mentally from the scene playing out in his mind. He wasn’t sure exactly what Megan was asking him. What she expected from him. But he knew he couldn’t live with himself as a man if he backed away from her challenge. And that’s exactly what it had been.
He looked that unflinching gaze square in the eye. “Okay. We’ll do it your way. Because babe, you haven’t got what I can’t take. Where do I sign?”
Megan watched the struggle resolve itself inside the man in the chair and savored the thrill that rolled over her. She’d won and she knew it.
A lot of men would have flipped her off—verbally, if not physically—on their way out the door by now. She knew because it had happened more than once. It happened sometimes that a man responded to the particular energy Megan knew she projected. Only to find that when it came right down to it, he couldn’t give up the control.
Megan didn’t blame them. She knew what she was asking ran counter to every bit of cultural training they’d ever learned in their lives. Even the ones she could sense had a powerful need to. Sometimes the fear was greater. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what it meant to their image of themselves as a man. Fear of what their friends would think if they found out.
“Good.” A smile broke slowly over her face as, at last, she let herself enjoy the moment. It was always a little like the first dance with a new partner and Megan luxuriated in the feeling. As powerful, as erotic, as a first kiss, the first time a new partner submitted was a special rush no roller coaster could duplicate.
Although it was doubtful Steve realized it, he had just placed himself completely in her hands.
“Tonight we’ll play a little. But mostly we’ll just talk. We’ll get to know each other a little bit. I want you to sit in the chair and tell me what you like. And what you don’t like.”
Blue-green eyes looked back at her while her fingers itched to run themselves through that incredible hair that drew her like an irresistible magnet. To keep herself from reaching for him, Megan leaned forward in her chair and sat on her hands.
“Unzip your pants for me. I want to see that pretty cock I know you’ve got in there.” A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine at the thought. Megan had imagined it, and she was ready to reward herself with her first good look at him. Steve’s hands moved slowly to his fly—too slow for her taste. Besides, it was time to begin. “Now, Steve!”
Both hands reached for the snap; the left popping the button free while the right lowered the zipper in one smooth tug.
“Now show me.” No underwear impeded his progress as Steve shoved aside the now open fly of his shorts. The cock that sprang free was thick and long, its head already flushing purple with lust. So beautiful. Megan wanted to fall to her knees and worship its silken perfection. “Nice. Wrap your hands through the back of the chair again and let’s have that talk.”
“Lady,” he rumbled, “you are definitely something else.” But he did as she said, inserting his arms through the chair’s wide slats and gripping the seat behind.
“Thank you.”
“I’m not so sure that was a compliment.”
“I am.” She couldn’t sit still another second. She had to move before the energy building inside her exploded. Controlling her movements through sheer steely resolve, Megan stood slowly. Making sure Steve’s eyes were on her, she crossed her hands and gripped the hem of her shirt, pulling it slowly over her head. When his shoulders bunched, as though preparing to release his grip on the chair and launch himself at her, Megan stopped him with a shake of her head. “Ah-ah.”
Bracing her legs, Megan reached around behind her back to release the catch of her bra. She wasn’t overly-endowed on top and didn’t really need to wear one, but the ceremony was important. Men loved that sort of thing and it was important to keep his attention focused, so she drew the moment out.
The red lace she’d chosen especially for the occasion came off without a hitch. Not that her modest curves were anything to worry about.
Except for the rasp of their breathing it was so quiet in the r
oom that, for the first time, Megan was aware of sounds from the bar filtering up through the floor. It was a Friday and it sounded like Goldie’s had a full house, the whiskey-rough voice of Melissa Etheridge belting one out a signal that Jaci was in charge downstairs.
“You like doing that. Don’t you?” His voice raw with desire, in that moment Steve was any woman’s wet-dream. Big, half-naked and waiting for her.
“Taking my bra off? Yeah, I do. I hate ‘em. I only wore it as a courtesy. You should feel honored.”
“No. Controlling the action. Making me sweat.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure you have a good time. Just trust me to take good care of you.” Megan smiled as she dropped the scrap of lace and stepped in close to him. She moved in close between his widespread legs, his breath gusting warmly over her bare breasts. Megan reached around behind his head to find the elastic band that held his ponytail and quickly pulled it free. She dropped it without another thought, impatient to finally—finally—touch that amazing hair.
Thrusting both hands greedily into the silky depths, Megan used it as a grip, tugging Steve’s head forward to her breast. The contrasting sensations of cool silk in her hands and hot mouth on her breast wrenched a groan from her. Steve didn’t waste any time, easily drawing her nipple deep into the moist paradise of his mouth.
His tongue laved the soft underside of her breast, while his teeth grated lightly over her skin. Unleashed from its confinement, his hair slid like heavy satin through her hands, the citrus-y scent of his shampoo underlain by his own unique scent invading her nostrils. Irresistibly drawn, Megan lowered her nose to Steve’s head, drawing the intoxicating scent deeper into her lungs.
Surrounded by him on all sides, the heat of his big body, the strength in his long runner’s legs, the power of his broad shoulders—all at her command—thrilled her. The mouth drawing hard on her flesh was making her toes curl. She wanted all of him and she wanted him now.
Cruel to Be Kind Page 3