by Desiree Holt
Goddamn it!
She couldn’t deny the man was handsome. He had the kind of looks that attracted women who wanted a little something wild in their lives. His blond hair, as always, was expensively cut to look casual. His custom navy suit fit perfectly over his broad shoulders and muscular body—a body whose naked image suddenly slammed into her mind.
His face showed absolutely no emotion but the heat of his blue eyes was just as penetrating. When he looked at her, she was sure he could see right into the heart of her and know what she was thinking.
Brian rested his hand, palm up, on the table, a silent signal for her to put her hand in his. As if it had a mind of its own, her right hand disentangled itself from her left, lifted from her lap and rested atop his palm. She hated the fact the shakes hadn’t gone away and he could plainly see what he was doing to her. His mouth curved in a satisfied smile as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her pulse point.
“I can feel how fast your heart is racing.” He pressed on the throbbing vein. “Is that fear? Expectation? Excitement? You still feel that pull, Fallon. You can try to lie to me but your body tells me the truth.”
She never had been able to lie to him. After so many months of torturous intimacy, after acts she’d never thought to participate in with another human being, her body had no secrets from him. Already she was having trouble calling back the memories of last night with Cord.
Damn him! And damn me!
“It’s nothing,” she said. “I’ve been rushing. That’s why I’m late.” She tried to pull her hand back but he closed his fingers around her wrist.
“You know how I hate to be kept waiting. How valuable my time is.” His grip tightened. “I’m disappointed that so many habits I ingrained in you have faded since you… left.” He paused. “But I’ll excuse it this time.”
This time? This was going to be the only time. No more, she whispered in her head. But as his fingers played with her hands and her wrist, stroking and squeezing, her long-programmed body leaped to life.
He released her hand when a waiter appeared at their booth bearing a silver bucket of ice, a stand and a bottle of wine. He held it label first to Brian, who nodded his head. Then the routine pouring of a tiny bit of liquid, the obligatory tasting, Brian nodding again. Fallon swallowed back her anxiety, torn between the urge to flee and the surging desire to stay. Watching the waiter pour the amber liquid into crystal goblets, she was seized with an urge to down the entire contents of the bottle.
Mistake. This was a mistake.
“Thank you.” Brian nodded at the waiter, who bowed slightly and disappeared. “This calls for a toast. Lift your glass, Fallon.”
Her name sounded so strange on his lips. When they were together, he’d almost never called her anything but ‘slave’. She’d almost forgotten she had a real name. But today he was the Brian whose spell she’d fallen under in the beginning. The seducer. The tempter. The persuader.
He tapped his glass to hers, which was still sitting on the table. “Lift your glass and acknowledge the toast.”
His voice was so bewitching, delivering an order but in a way she couldn’t refuse. Hoping she didn’t spill any of the wine, Fallon did as he asked.
“To us,” he said, his eyes twin blue flames.
She said nothing, just took a sip of the wine. The icy liquid felt good sliding down her throat, easing the constricted muscles. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from Brian’s. She was dismayed at the speed with which she was becoming spellbound by him; by the thought of the dangerous pleasures he could offer.
He lowered his glass to the table and recaptured her hand. His thumb stroked her knuckles in a familiar gesture and his stare burned into her like a laser.
His touch was electric, even more so than earlier. Nerve endings snapped to attention and every muscle in her body clenched.
“I can see you’ve been well,” he said. “If what you have now is what you want, then I’m… happy for you.”
Did he mean it? No, this was another trick. Already his touch was sending sensations straight to her clit, his voice mesmerizing. That low, deep sound that vibrated through her body.
She tried to pull her hand away but he tightened his hold just enough to keep it in place. Apparently all it took was that one touch to bring back all the intense memories of pleasure. How conditioned she had been to endure anything as long as he eventually gave his approval, along with mind-shattering orgasms.
All the time away from that life—away from him—didn’t seem to have cured her at all.
I knew this would happen—yet here I am. And I can’t seem to make myself get up and walk away. I’m pathetic, that’s what I am. And worthless.
“Remember the night we spent in my suite?” His voice was an erotic hum. “That was the first night I restrained you. Tied you with cords nearly as silken as your skin.” His thumb brushed back and forth over her palm. “I wish I’d taken a picture then, your naked body ready for whatever I chose to give you.”
Fallon took another sip of her wine, her body responding to the hypnotic quality of his words. The past year and a half might not have happened at all.
She wanted him, and the dark hedonism he offered.
Brian leaned even closer. “When I close my eyes I can still see you on your knees that first time. Naked, my cock in your mouth. Still remember your pleasure when I spanked you, and my pleasure when I realized how much the pain excited you. The way you loved it. You were wetter than a river for me.”
God, she remembered. She’d been so turned on by his commanding presence, she would have agreed to anything. By the time he’d placed the first strike on her ass, she’d felt her own juices wetting her thighs. Now, as the wine warmed her, a familiar sizzle of need, of excitement, coursed through her veins.
“I didn’t let you climax that night.” His gaze hypnotized her, his words immobilizing. “I made you wait so you’d understand that everything you were, everything you did, all your pleasure was under my control. And you loved it. If you try to deny it, I’ll know you’re lying.”
No, she couldn’t deny it. He was right. Despite her history as a sub, the way she’d embraced pain, with Brian, a switch had flipped in her brain. That night, something dark inside her sprang to life, a depraved side to her nature that she hadn’t even known was there.
In retrospect, she realized that although she’d considered herself a smart, together woman, she’d been far less sophisticated than she’d imagined. That had made her vulnerable to Brian, something she was trying desperately to remember. But when he touched her this way, when the low timbre of his voice vibrated through her, thoughts scattered as if a wind swept through the restaurant, blowing away her best intentions.
Cord. I have to think of Cord.
But with Brian holding her hand, still rubbing that sensitive place on her skin, still speaking to her in that beguiling manner, Cord was the last person she wanted in her head. She had the feeling she was drinking too much wine but when he refilled her glass, she lifted it to her mouth automatically.
“I took the liberty of ordering for us,” she heard him say. “I know what appeals to you.” His grip on her hand tightened fractionally and a bit of a hard edge crept into his voice. “I’m best for you. I’ve proved that before. And I’m going to remind you.”
Afterward, Fallon couldn’t have told anyone what she ate if her life depended on it. Except for the chocolate cake, a favorite of hers that she was sure he’d ordered deliberately. When he reached across the table to catch a dab of frosting on her lip, she jerked her head back. Anger flared in his eyes and he gripped her chin.
“Don’t pull away from me, Fallon. I only want to take care of you.”
In a very tiny part of her brain, she knew she shouldn’t let herself be swayed. But somehow, in his presence, when he touched her, common sense and intelligence fled. She also knew she shouldn’t have had so much wine. It was having a more potent effect on her today than usual, making her mind
dull and her body loose. Brian had kept refilling her glass and she, dummy that she was, kept drinking to calm her frazzled nerves. She knew better. She knew better about all of this.
How had she so stupidly thought she could maintain any kind of control?
By the time they had finished lunch, between the wine and the buttons he knew just how to push, Fallon had lost any intention of walking away. Like a recovering drug addict with a line of cocaine laid out before her, she wanted only the moments of bliss the destructive habit could give her. He was obviously her drug of choice, and she was far from kicking the habit. She wanted only to go wherever Brian would take her, and beg him to send her riding the edge of pain again.
“I have a suite here also,” he murmured, stroking her arm. “We’re going to use it to play the games you like.”
When he helped her from the booth and led her to the elevator, she followed along like a dog chasing a stick. Tremors raced through her pussy, and the crotch of her thong was so soaked, she wondered if everyone in the restaurant could smell her musk.
At the last moment some hidden thread of common sense urged her to gather her thoughts and run from here as fast as she could. But Brian tightened his hold on her hand just barely to the point of pain and nudged her into the elevator car.
“You don’t really want to leave.” His other hand cupped her chin, tilted her head so he could skewer her with his gaze. “Do you?”
And that was all it took.
When Fallon shook her head and stood quietly beside him, Brian had to swallow the smug smile that threatened to break loose on his face.
For one brief moment he’d thought she might actually jerk her hand away and race from the hotel. But the effects of a year of extreme conditioning and programming still lingered. He was sure of it. Not to mention the wine he’d plied her with. Not enough so she was falling down drunk but enough to make her obedient. And to arouse her.
She was his. Only his. From the first moment he’d caught sight of her, seen her sensual aura, he knew she’d be perfect. Molding a naïve sub to his will was as sexually satisfying as any of the acts themselves. She’d been like putty in his hands. He still cursed that damn Claire Panetta for destroying the situation.
He allowed himself to wonder for a brief moment what Cord Jamieson would think if he knew where Fallon was now. She had to have told him about their history. Had he been angry? Distraught? From their brief contact, Brian didn’t think him a man to let go of his sub easily, especially one he so obviously cared about, but the choice wouldn’t be his. After today, Fallon would be back under Brian’s control. He was sure of it.
The elevator doors slid open smoothly, and he urged Fallon down a short hall then into the suite, his hand at the small of her back. Memories of the first night he’d nudged her into his brand of BDSM slammed into him. Today he’d take her right back there.
He stopped in the living room and turned Fallon to face him. There was a small chance she was still teetering on the edge, despite everything he’d set up, and he had to make sure she knew this was where she belonged. With him, and no one else.
He made his voice soft but authoritative. “You know the routine. Clothes off. Now.”
Her fingers trembled slightly as she began to remove each piece of her outfit. Tossing the filmy blouse to the nearest chair, she unzipped her skirt, slid it down her hips and stepped out of it. His cock twitched as he took note of the fact she still wore the kind of thigh-high stockings that made his balls ache. When he got her fully back into his control, he might have her wear them and nothing else as she walked around the house.
The house!
Damn.
He’d been so focused on getting her back, he hadn’t thought ahead to the logistics. That was completely unlike him.
I have a monster of a house. Many rooms. I can move Natalie to another area and install Fallon in the master wing. They never have to meet.
Satisfaction replaced his sudden and unfamiliar spate of anxiety. Yes, that would be the perfect solution. He would use the first few days—maybe weeks—to isolate her until he was sure she was retrained. The thought of it made his cock jerk again.
He raised an eyebrow when she stepped out of her thong next, leaving the bra instead of removing that first. He was pleased to see that she remembered the shoes stayed on. Until it occurred to him that Cord might also have ordered it, and a spike of jealousy pierced him. He deliberately fought it back. After today, what Cord Jamieson liked or disliked would no longer matter.
Finally, eyes still downcast, she unhooked the bra and, with seeming reluctance, slid the straps slowly down her arms and eased the fabric away from her breasts.
When he saw the nipple rings, his anger sparked again.
Goddamn it!
Automatically she clasped her hands behind her back and bowed her head.
He moved closer, staring at the rings. He wanted to just rip them from her body but that wasn’t the kind of pain he inflicted, although he was tempted to make an exception. He opened the clasp on one of them, eased the thin post from the nipple. She opened her mouth as if to protest but he squeezed her breast, hard enough to leave prints, and she swallowed whatever she had been about to say.
When he held the circle of gold in his fingers, his keen eyesight spotted the engraving. Upon noticing the initials CJ engraved on the delicate jewelry, he had to work hard to control his rage.
How dare she? How dare he?
Swallowing back that wrath, he removed the other one, walked over to a wastebasket, and dropped them inside.
“Those are my nipples,” he told her in a hard voice. To emphasize his point, he bent and took them in his mouth one at a time, first sucking then biting the tender buds.
She tensed and, for a moment, looked as if she was going to argue with him. Then she merely bit her lip. Good. Smart. There was nothing for her to say, except why she’d let another man put his stamp on her.
“Mine,” he growled. “No one else touches them and no one else adorns them or claims ownership. I’ll decide what nipple jewelry to give you and when.” He drew in a deep breath to calm himself but he couldn’t let this pass. “Did you come here today expecting me to fuck you? To use your body as only I can, until you scream for mercy?”
When she said nothing, he snapped, “Answer me!” He pinched her nipples. “Now.”
“Y-yes, Master.”
Her entire body trembled as she spoke, the familiar sign that she was in the grip of a combination of fear and lust. Excellent. Just what he wanted.
He looked around the room, deciding how he wanted to proceed. “Too bad you’ve displeased me so much,” he told her in his commanding Dom voice. “You’ve been a disobedient slut, and as such, should be disciplined properly. You don’t deserve satisfaction. Not yet.”
She stood there silently, head bowed, hands clasped appropriately behind her back. It would take every ounce of his discipline not to throw her on the floor and screw her into the carpet. Fuck her blind, until she never thought of another man again. Never entertained any thought of leaving him.
“Go to the window and stand facing the street. Do it now,” he snapped when she didn’t move at once.
“T-the window?”
Jesus! Had she lost her brain? She’d never questioned him before. Obviously some serious retraining was needed.
“The window.” He pointed. “There.”
“W-what are you going to do?”
“Since when does a slave ask her Master a question like that?” He turned her to face the window, slapped her ass as hard as he could, and nudged her to move in that direction. “Go. Now.”
On slightly unsteady legs, she walked over to the window and waited.
He knew exactly the tone of voice to use with her right now, a mixture of sensual and harsh. Tempt but punish. “Grab the drapes on either side with your hands and hold on tightly. Do not let go under any circumstances.”
She did as commanded, her fingers digging into the
soft velvet material. Outside of the little exchange of words they’d just had, she was obedient and pliable. She’d be more so when he finished with her this afternoon.
He glanced out the window. Below them, traffic crowded the busy streets of San Antonio. Across from them, office buildings rose like concrete fingers toward the sky. The sheer curtains beyond the heavy velvet drapes would prevent people from actually seeing her naked, but Brian wanted her to have the feeling of being exposed. Of knowing he could do what he wanted with her in full view of the public.
He gathered the items he wanted and carried them to a low table near the window.
“It’s very interesting,” he said in a conversational tone, “how taking away sight enhances every other sense so acutely. It’s the greatest kind of sensory deprivation.” Placing the folded silk over her eyes, he tied it in place at the back of her head. “Every nerve in your body will be more reactive. Responsive. You will feel everything to a much greater degree.”
He stood back for a moment, admiring the line of her body, her long legs and curving hips. The sweet roundness of her ass. Just to satisfy his curiosity, he trailed his fingers through the cleft of her buttocks, down to her pussy, smiling with satisfaction when he found her already wet. By the time she’d deserted him, he’d turned her into a real pain junkie, though on a much lower level than he’d have liked. As well, he’d conditioned her to the pleasure she’d receive if she obeyed him strictly, the deprivation she’d receive when she didn’t.
He might have to push her to reach that level again but certainly, based on her physical response right now, he wasn’t starting from scratch. Whatever type of Dom Cord Jamieson was, he hadn’t destroyed what Brian had spent so much time creating.
Taking a step back, he picked up the heavy crop he’d taken from the drawer and drew it back.
Whack!
He laid it across both cheeks of her ass, leaving a bright red mark. She flinched and cried out, but didn’t try to move from her position.