Now he turned back to face her. Marcella hadn’t moved. “Thank you for volunteering, Marcella, but I can’t do that to you. I know what it means for you to ask to do this for me, and I can’t abuse your trust by allowing strangers to put their hands on you.”
She crossed to her desk and lifted a program from the small box perched on the corner. “Nowhere on here does it mention additional donors or the inclusion of anyone else in your show. I have no record of additional donations. Who are they?”
Sean shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
Marcella fought the urge to laugh. “And you didn’t ask?”
“I didn’t care about that. I cared that she went behind my back. I cared that she was trying to play power games with me. I planned to stop seeing her after this.”
His attitude exasperated Marcella. She perused the program as a way to keep him from seeing her annoyance.
A rueful laugh rumbled from his chest. “She accused me of seeing this as a business deal.”
Marcella snapped her fingers. “A business deal. That’s it. If Gretchen set this up and she’s no longer participating, then the offer is void. Changing the submissive necessarily changes the parameters of the demonstration because the limits and preferences change. Everyone will understand the altered expectations.”
They could change the progression of the rounds to better fit Marcella’s preferences and limits. However, she didn’t know how Sean would take a suggestion like that. After all, he had decided the original choreography. Part of Marcella wanted to ask if they could change the plan, but a larger part of her was afraid he would decide not to use her if she set limits that significantly altered things.
Sean watched, amused, as the wheels in Marcella’s brain powered full speed ahead. He loved the way her eyes sparkled when she had an idea. She snatched up her notebook and her laptop from her desk. The fact that she kept a notebook and a computer together made him smile. Marcella always took notes on paper. Once her ideas were fully formed, she digitized them. E-mails, schedules, and appointments would pour from her fingertips and appear on his phone and calendar.
She crossed the room and set the laptop on an ottoman. After kicking off her shoes, she settled onto the sofa and folded her feet under her luscious bottom. The blue cover of the notebook disappeared as she opened to a fresh page. Her pen flew over the paper. He had no clue what she could possibly be writing, but he knew better than to interrupt.
The first time he’d set eyes on her, it had taken him almost five minutes to form a coherent thought. Over a year later, he only managed to function around her if he didn’t get too close.
She always smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. When he came really close, he sometimes caught a whiff of coconut. He wanted to bury his face in every part of her body to find out exactly where she used each scent.
He sat down on the chair across from her and raked his gaze over her body. The silk blouse she wore hugged the curves of her breasts and dipped down to show a bit of cleavage. He imagined licking her there. He would draw her shirt over her head and remove her delicate pink lacy bra. Though he hadn’t seen it, he knew it would match the exact shade of soft pink in her shirt and in her lipstick. He would tweak and suck her nipples until they pebbled and she arched beneath him. Gasps and moans would fall from her lips.
Her hair, light brown with hints of ginger, fell over her shoulders. The ends curled. It had felt silky soft when he’d used it to turn her around before. He ached to feel it sliding through his fingers, tickling down his neck and chest. Brushing his thighs as she closed those kissable lips around his cock.
“Round one should feature several toys. The vendors all promised a percentage of profits from the event in donations. I’ve already cleaned up the selection they sent over and set them out in your dungeon.” She lifted her gaze, meeting his briefly. Vendors would be on hand after the demonstration to sell sex toys and accessories to the titillated crowd. Sales of the implements he used in the scene would most likely be higher than those he bypassed. “I thought you would want to see which ones Gretchen liked best and use those. You mentioned using a heater and clamps. I think you should—”
He held up a hand to halt her flow of words. Round one would showcase his expertise with slow sexual teasing. She definitely had a way of reducing a sensual experience to items on a business agenda. “Marcella, as the submissive, you don’t get to choose the toys. You can ask. You can beg. You can’t choose or insist. That’s not negotiable with me.”
Color stained her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Sean. I just meant we’d raise more money if we showcased a variety of toys.”
“I know what you meant. We’ll try them out, but I’ll be the one deciding which get used and which don’t. Speak now if you want out of this. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” He held his breath and counted the long seconds that ticked past as she studied his face.
He wondered if his face pleased her. After he’d made his first million dollars, he had stopped accepting compliments from people. Most of them said what they thought he wanted to hear. Not Marcella. At her interview, she had straightened his tie without asking for permission, taking him to task when she found out he never untied the knot. He just loosened it to fit over his head. The sparks that flew from her hands through his chest had made him want to strip her naked and bend her over the back of the nearest couch. Later she’d told him to get rid of all his red ties. They didn’t suit his coloring.
The way she sat, knees turned modestly to one side, turned him on more than if she’d knelt naked in front of him with her knees spread to reveal the soft folds of her pussy. Would it be light pink or dusky rose? How responsive would she be to his tongue and fingers exploring her wetness?
With her feet under her ass, the fabric of her skirt pulled snugly against her curves. He wanted to dig his fingertips into her hips as he sank his dick into her tightness.
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t willing.” She dropped her gaze and stared at her notebook. “Round two features whips. That’s the only one that worries me. I-I do okay with a flogger, but I didn’t care for the cat or the single-tail at all.”
Sean’s attention jerked from carnal thoughts and landed on her embarrassed revelation. Earlier she’d mentioned needing to practice with a whip. “Everyone has different levels of pain they enjoy, Cella.”
“I know.” He had to strain to hear her. She drew a slow line in her notebook. “I’m just worried that I won’t be able to endure enough. I’ve never been with anyone who used a cane or a tawse on me. I can’t say I’ve ever wanted to try those things.”
A fact filtered through Sean’s consciousness. He’d kept his hands off her for more reasons than simply because he didn’t want to chance driving her away. “Marcella, shouldn’t Eric be here? Shouldn’t you ask him if he’s okay with this first?”
Her brow furrowed, and her mouth puckered into a frown. “Eric?”
“Your boyfriend. Your master.” He had to force the last word out. If he were her master, he wouldn’t loan her out to anyone. He wouldn’t allow anyone to put their hands on her. He wouldn’t allow her to work insane hours for another man. Or woman. He would want all her attention focused on him, much as it was now.
She lifted her pretty brown eyes and brushed her bangs away from her thick, full lashes. “Eric and I broke up almost a year ago.”
He felt like an ass, and not just because he welcomed the news. How had he not known? “Because you work for me?”
“That was the final nail in the coffin.” She shrugged. “We wanted different things out of the relationship. It wasn’t going to last, no matter what.”
“What different things?” Though he knew damn well it wasn’t his business, he couldn’t stop himself from asking. She knew every detail of his personal life, but she’d engineered it so that he knew only select things about her. And he’d let her. Oh, he had rationalized it by telling himself he respected her privacy. Facing the truth mea
nt admitting cowardice. He hadn’t wanted to hear her talk about her boyfriend.
“He wanted a full-time sex slave, and that’s just not me. I don’t mind kneeling naked at my master’s feet during a scene, but expecting me to cook and clean the house naked is too much. Hell, expecting me to do all the cooking and cleaning is too much. Plus he didn’t seem to care about me, only my obedience. He punished me for the smallest infractions.”
She trailed off and shrugged as if she hadn’t said something that opened up a vast list of questions. Her pen flew over the lines in her notebook.
“Marcella, is Eric the reason you don’t like the whip?”
Her momentum faltered. She tapped the pen against her teeth. “Maybe a little, but I’ve always had a low threshold for pain. He preferred to deny me attention and affection. I’d rather be whipped than be hurt emotionally.”
Sean hated doms who disciplined their subs emotionally. The whole point of having a D/s relationship was for mutual pleasure and to deepen the emotional bond between the couple. Nothing good could result from insisting on emotional control over another person. Everyone had a right to feel what they felt. “That’s abusive.”
Her shoulders lifted and fell again. “I don’t think he meant to be mean. He wanted me to beg for his time and attention, but I’m just not that kind of pushy, needy sub. I’m sure he’ll find some woman with daddy issues and they’ll get along just fine.”
He let her have the evasion. She’d obviously moved on. Briefly, he wondered who she’d been dating if not Eric. He knew she’d spent several of her days off with a man, and he’d gone out of his way to not be around when her date had picked her up. He hadn’t needed visual confirmation that he didn’t stand a chance in hell with her. Before the demons of doubt could dig their talons in too deep, he ditched those thoughts. She was here with him now, and she had just promised to be his for the next three days.
“Round three.” He stood and held out his hand to her—the first time he’d ever instigated contact. Now that she’d agreed to be his submissive, even if it was only temporary, he could let down his guard a bit. As soon as he had her in his dungeon, he’d be touching her all over. “I’ll bring you to orgasm twice. You’ll have no input into the choreography. Enough talk, Cella. We need to practice if I’m going to know your limits.”
She looked at his hand and shook her head. “I’m not ready, Sean. Give me thirty minutes. I need to shave.”
He blinked. “Shave?”
“Well, yes. I didn’t anticipate being naked in front of anyone today, so I didn’t shave.”
He dropped his hand, a little stung by her efficient, businesslike rejection. However, the image of her naked body tied to his cross more than made up for it. He checked the time on his cell. “Thirty minutes. Come to the dungeon wearing only a robe.”
Chapter Two
Marcella knew from paying the bills that Sean preferred his submissives to be hairless. Though she’d engaged in a few scenes with her dates in the time since she’d ended her relationship with Eric, she hadn’t bothered to shave her pussy in a very long time. It hadn’t mattered before. Now that Sean would be her master, albeit only for a few days, she wanted to groom herself in ways that would please him.
She arranged her hair in a sexy, sloppy upsweep. No matter how classy she made it look, it would end up a mess by the end of the scene. She preferred to enter a scene with some control over her personal disarray. Knowing Sean, it would be the only thing she would control.
The deep rose robe he’d given her as a birthday gift lay at the foot of her bed. Not a day passed that she didn’t snuggle into the soft, silky feel of the fabric. As she donned it now, it slid over her skin, caressing her hips and the tips of her breasts. She tied the belt and headed down two flights of stairs to the dungeon.
She entered his domain, immediately feeling an electric charge at being there to do more than set up. Having worked so closely with Sean for over a year, she’d seen him at his best and at his worst. She trusted him completely.
A sound to her right drew her attention to that corner of the room. Sean leaned against a high table. He lifted a glass to his lips and sipped. Ice cubes clinked as they shifted, and she recognized the sound that had caught her attention.
He watched her silently. She dropped her gaze to the floor, fastening it demurely to a point halfway between them. If he wanted her to kneel, he would tell her to kneel. This moment, this starting point, was a test of her submissiveness. It would tell him so much about her level of responsiveness. She emptied her mind of everything except Sean.
The glass thudded against the wood. He closed the distance between them, coming to a halt inches in front of her. She focused on the thin line of hair that trailed from his navel and disappeared into his jeans. He had removed his shirt. Though she had seen him shirtless before, the sight sent a tremor up her spine.
He placed his fingers on her neck, spanning them just below her ear. Residual cold from the glass penetrated her skin, and a second tremor followed the first. “Choose a safe word.”
“Oasis.” She would forever revere the name of the wish-fulfillment service that had delivered Sean to her. She didn’t know how they’d gotten rid of Gretchen, but they had, and she was thankful for that.
Sean slid his fingers forward to grip her chin. “Oasis. Your favorite band.” A slight pressure tilted her face, and she peered into his eyes. “If you ask me to stop or you say no at any time, those words will also work. I don’t play protest games. That’s one of my limits.”
She bit back her amazement over the fact that he knew her favorite band and nodded to acknowledge his limit. “What should I call you?”
“Master. For the next three days, I am your master.”
She couldn’t stop the pleased smile or the excitement unfurling in her chest. As usually happened, her profound sense of duty managed to take the lead. “Master, you should know that I’m on birth control and that my last tests came back clean.”
His mouth twitched, the beginnings of a smile or a reprimand that never manifested. She hadn’t asked for permission to speak. “And I’m sure you know all about my tests.” At her nod—she handled all his mail and appointments—he continued. “Untie your robe.”
An auditory response wasn’t necessary. She complied with his order, loosening the sash and letting it dangle at her sides. The robe remained stuck to her body.
With one finger, Sean traced a path between her breasts and urged her robe apart. The warmth of the silk fell away. For the first time, Marcella stood exposed to his view. She held her breath and hoped he liked what he saw.
His gaze roamed every inch of her skin. Heat bloomed in the trails he left, though he no longer touched her. With agonizing slowness, he rounded her body. She felt his hands at her shoulders. The robe whispered a caress down her arms and pooled at her bare feet.
Sean’s breath tickled behind her ear just below her hairline. He inhaled deeply, confirming that he had been enjoying her scent all along. Marcella’s heart leaped and floated at this evidence of his interest.
His teeth grazed along the base of her neck. “Are you sure about this, my sweet slave? A hundred people will watch me tease and torture you. They’ll watch your luscious body writhe and arch. They’ll listen as you whimper with need. They’ll watch your juices run down your thighs. You think I’m the draw, but you’re wrong. They’re coming to see you, Marcella. Are you really an exhibitionist?”
She wanted to shake her head, but she didn’t want to move away from the teeth and lips that played over her shoulder and up her neck. “No, Master. I mean, yes, Master, I’m sure about this. No, Master, I’m not an exhibitionist.”
His fingertips etched trails parallel to her spine. “I thought not. I will allow you a blindfold.”
She exhaled, and tension drained from her shoulders. She hadn’t realized how tightly her nerves were wound. “Thank you, Master.”
He pressed his lips to her shoulder, a brief acknowled
gment of her thanks. “I’m going to bind you several ways tonight. I might use the flogger, but I mostly want to see how you respond to different stimuli.”
Light, feathery touches played up and down her arms. She wanted to sag backward to rest against his chest, but she knew that would not please him. Then his touch disappeared. She resisted the urge to turn her head and follow him with her eyes.
Darkness stole her vision. He adjusted the strap, securing it under where she’d piled her hair. Using only the soft pressure of his fingertips, he nudged the small of her back. “Walk forward until I tell you to stop.”
With her vision compromised, her sense of balance wasn’t the same. She took small steps, counting six when Sean told her to stop.
“Raise your arms above your head.”
She felt her breasts rise as she lifted her arms. Wide leather cuffs encircled her wrists, and he tightened the buckles one at a time. Anticipation coiled just above her pussy. Bondage was definitely one of her triggers.
Safe Word: Oasis 2: By My Side Page 2