by Avery Gale
Watching as Jace gathered her gear, Ian kept his hand on her elbow. When Jace turned back to them and nodded, Ian said, “Come, Carlin.” The minute he’d spoken the words she’d frozen and turned to him.
Ian watched the little warrior closely. Her face was bathed in the moonlight, and once again he wished she wasn’t wearing that damned face paint because he was certain her skin would be luminous in this light. When she asked, “What does that mean?” he’d been surprised that a woman who had fought with such strength would have a voice that was a soft, airy siren’s call.
Looking down at her, he answered, “It’s an Irish girls’ name and means ‘little champion.’ Now come along.” They hadn’t made it but a few steps along the path leading to his home when she stumbled again. Hell, what was with her anyway? She seemed to be the most uncoordinated woman he’d ever encountered—that is until she had started fighting and then she had been pure poetry in motion. Suddenly Ian realized his evening had just gotten a whole lot more interesting. Leaning down, he scooped her up into his arms. When she started to struggle, he simply squeezed her tightly to his chest and whispered, “Be still or I’ll drop you.” He was pleased when she settled immediately. Hmmm—a submissive criminal? That would be a novel concept. Suppressing the urge to laugh, Ian took the lead as they made their way back up the steep, carved rock steps leading to his home.
When they reached the back entrance, Jace stepped in front of him and tapped the code into the security system and then opened the door. “I’ll secure these and meet you in your office in fifteen. That should give you time to get that crap off her face. We need to be able to see her while we sort this out.” Then after glancing in her direction he returned his gaze to Ian before adding, “If I were you, I’d leave the little she-devil bound.” With that he turned and stormed down the hall toward his own office and quarters.
Ian had already set her on her feet and watched as she winced at Jace’s words and then turned back to him. When she looked up at him, he felt like he’d been hit by lightning. Her eyes were the most amazing shade of violet he’d ever seen. There was almost something mystical about their color, and he suddenly understood the fascination Russians had with tanzanite. Looking at her, he was immediately hit by the zing of sexual awareness that seemed to arc between them. He felt a connection that he’d only read about in the ancient folklore tales his father had always insisted he study. The elder McGregor had reminded his son repeatedly about the importance of honoring “the gift of his Irish heritage.” Before this moment, Ian would have sworn the old romantic tales were nothing but pure fiction. But now? Now he had to wonder if his father hadn’t been a lot wiser than Ian had ever known.
Taking her elbow firmly in hand, Ian led her to the small washroom off his office. Since he didn’t trust her, he entered the small room also. He cut the zip-ties, then turned to her and simply said, “Strip.” Watching as her eyes went wide and then dilated before they turned to ice, he had almost laughed when she tried to appear taller by standing on the balls of her feet. Jesus, the defiance was coming off her in waves, but there was an underlying sensuality that had been sparked to life. He’d seen it flicker in her eyes before she’d managed to effectively hide it. If he hadn’t been a trained Dominant, he was sure he wouldn’t have caught it, but it had been there, even if for only a millisecond. When she didn’t make any move to comply with his order, he took one step forward and watched as she tried to step back but stopped when her ass came up against the countertop. “What is your name, Carlin?”
“It’s…um…Callie. Callie Reece. Who are you? And why do you want me to strip?” Her voice had trembled in genuine fear, and while he didn’t want her comfortable, he didn’t want her so afraid of him that she completely shut down emotionally either. Hell, they’d never find out anything if she clammed up. Best she enjoy at least some of his attention, so he decided he’d give her a few options to consider.
“Well, Callie, my name is Ian McGregor and this is my home. As a matter of fact, I own the entire island you just tried to sneak onto. As to why you have to strip, I have to make sure you aren’t armed, and I want that crap washed off your face. And since I don’t trust you and I think you might well attempt to make a break for it, I’ll be staying right here. Now, either you strip or I’ll strip you. And if I do it, you’ll get a paddling for my trouble, is that clear enough?” Ian knew he wasn’t going to win any “Host of the Year” awards, but the tiny troublemaker was getting to him in a big way and he was losing patience with himself as well as with her continued deer-in-the-headlights stare.
Deciding to see how she’d react to his full-on Dom tone, he barked, “Now, Callie. Strip or suffer the consequences.” Seeing the pulse at the base of her slender neck speed up as her breathing become more and more shallow, he was pleased to see her toe off her boots before unsnapping her jeans and lowering them before kicking them aside. When she slowly lifted her T-shirt over her head, he nearly came on the spot at the sight of her standing before him in a tiny black lace thong and front-closing bra. God Almighty, the woman is an erotic dream come to life. “Very pretty, but it all goes. When you have removed the last two pieces, spread your legs shoulder-width apart, and relax your arms at your sides. I’m not going to hurt you, pet, but I am going to make sure you don’t have any weapons hidden…anywhere. And then you’ll step into the shower so that I can see the beautiful woman I know is hiding beneath that black smudge.”
Chapter 3
Callie was sure she was going to faint, she was starting to see tiny black spots in her vision, and she knew her breathing was too fast, but she couldn’t seem to slow it down. She could hear the blood rushing through her ears, and it felt like her fingers were going numb. When he’d said he was going to check her for hidden weapons, her mind had flashed to all the old movies she’d watched as a teenager about women in jails and cavity searches, and she’d gotten so lost in those thoughts she had skated right over the edge of fear and into full-blown panic mode. In the back of her mind she heard him directing her to breathe with him and felt his hand splayed over her chest as his other arm held up. When she finally regained her focus, she realized he’d already removed her underwear and was moving her under the warm spray of the shower. Even though he was in the shower with her, he had left on his formfitting jeans and she watched in awe as they molded to him until there was little left to the imagination. Holy crap! Did he have to be so damned gorgeous? And aroused? And well endowed? Geez, can’t I at least catch a break once in a while?
When she finally found her voice, she said, “I can do this…um, you are getting your jeans all wet.” She had tried to move her gaze away from his growing erection, she really had—but she wasn’t trying that hard, and she sure wasn’t succeeding.
Callie was convinced she’d die of embarrassment and humiliation when he placed his fingers under her chin and lifted her face until her eyes met his. She could tell he was trying to not laugh, but his grin was still shining through and amusement clearly laced his voice when he chuckled. “Like what you see, pet?” She could only manage to nod her head.
A small part of her consciousness knew she was in way over her head, but the other ninety-nine percent was screaming, “Go ahead, jump in! The water’s fine!” but damned if she was going to open her mouth and let that slide out. No, she was going to maintain her dignity, well, as much as a woman can retain after being busted trying to sneak on to a private island to spy on a sex club and then fainting at the thought of a cavity search while being naked in the shower with a super hot man she didn’t know and then being caught hungrily staring at his cock—yeah, those were all dignity-preserving activities for sure! Giving herself a mental head slap, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly before saying, “Yeah, well, you are pretty amazing looking, for sure. But I think I better get myself together so we can get out of here. Um, do you have a robe or something I can wear until I can find my bag that your pal, Mr. Sunshine, confiscated?”
She was sure
she heard him chuckle when she was reaching for the soap, but she decided to embrace the “ignorance is bliss” view and ignore it. After she’d scrubbed her face, she opened her eyes just in time to see his very fine and very naked ass leaving the small bathroom. She hadn’t even heard him leave the shower so she was shocked to see that he’d taken all of their clothing with him when he’d left. Just as she finished up and was starting to dry off, he returned fully dressed and held out one of his shirts for her to wear. He handed it to her and when she started to ask about underwear he simply said, “No, this is all you will be given to wear for this discussion. And, Callie, you are to button the center two buttons only, do I make myself clear?”
She was startled, but his tone wasn’t one she wanted to argue with, so she simply replied, “Yes, Sir,” before quickly pulling the large shirt on and attempting to secure the middle buttons. She felt like she was drowning in the shirt and was actually relieved when he stepped forward to help her.
“Let me help you. Only the middle two buttons, and let’s roll up the sleeves so you have use of your hands.” And then as if he were actually talking more to himself than to her, he added, “Another day I’ll use those long sleeves to my advantage, little one.” When he looked into her eyes, she was surprised to see the dark depths of his midnight blue eyes full of heat. And when he stepped back from her, she almost felt as if she’d wilted. It was as if someone had drained the energy from her. She knew he watched as she leaned against the counter in an effort to steady herself, and she’d seen him suppress a smile when she muttered about him being surrounded by a force field all his own, and just being near him was enough to light her up on the inside. Fuck a duck, I can’t believe I said that out loud. She saw him start to ask her what that meant, so she quickly ducked her head and went back to trying to finger comb the tangles from her long hair.
Ian moved to the doorway and just stood watching as the tiny pixie tried to get the tangles out of her silken tresses. He finally had enough, and then, retrieving a wide-tooth comb from the drawer, he encircled her delicate wrist with his hand and pulled her to a leather chair in front of his desk. Knowing the leather would be a shock to her bare ass, he chuckled softly at her surprised gasp. “Something wrong?” When she didn’t answer, he wrapped his fist in her hair and slowly tilted her face until they were nearly nose-to-nose and darkened his tone to say, “When I ask you a question, pet, I expect you to answer me immediately and with complete honesty. Do you understand?”
“Y–yes, Sir, I mean, yes, Mr. McGregor.” She might have stumbled over the words, but her need was clearly written in her expression. His initial impression had been dead on, the small woman was a true submissive, and he wondered if she even knew what a sub was. It was likely she was thoroughly confused about her reaction to him, and that was something he intended to use to his advantage. He planned to make the most of her unsettled state, using it to his benefit while he found out exactly what she was up to.
“Now, answer my question, pet. Is there something wrong with the chair I have chosen for you? Would you like to move to another?” He knew perfectly well she wouldn’t want to expose her delicate ass cheeks to another cold chair, but he merely looked deep into her violet eyes and waited.
“No, this chair is fine. It was just, well, my tush was all warm, and when it hit the cool leather, well…it startled me a bit. But this chair is warm now, so I don’t want to move.” She had started out looking into his eyes, but being a true submissive her gaze had slowly tracked down until it was now locked on her delicate hands which were tightly clasped in her lap. By the time she’d finished speaking, all he could see was the top of her head. He would let her hide this once, but that was going to end—quickly.
He carefully worked the tangles from her hair and was just finishing when he heard his friend’s knock at the door. Jace had entered immediately and walked to Ian’s desk, placed a folder on top, then taken a seat in the chair beside Callie’s. Ian saw his friend give her a sideways glance and then look back at him. If he hadn’t known Jace so well, he might have missed the small upward tilt of his eyebrow and the twitch at the corners of the man’s lips before his expression returned to stone-cold distant.
Making sure Callie felt vulnerable while they questioned her wasn’t an accident, and Jace would have known immediately exactly what he’d intended when he’d dressed the little warrior in next to nothing. They were both Doms, and even though Ian knew that Jace played more on the edgy side, there were some traits that all Doms shared. Keeping a sub a bit unbalanced was always about the power play, and in this situation it was completely warranted.
Chapter 4
Ian reached forward, flipped open the folder, and quickly scanned the contents. Obviously she’d been telling the truth about her name. Well, at least she’d been close, but it was likely Miss Reece had given him her standard answer to that question. If his assessment was correct, the woman in front of him was probably not very skilled at deception. He had discovered years ago true submissives are almost always very poor liars. But the few he’d met that could lie had, almost without exception, been both very skilled and pathological. In most true subs, the need to please is so deeply ingrained in their psyche that they were willing to go to great lengths to avoid answering a question rather than lie, particularly if they had reason to think the answer was something their Dom didn’t want to hear. But more often than not their body language would give them away long before a Dom had to push them for an answer.
Deciding to let their pint-sized prowler squirm a bit longer, he pretended to read all sorts of interesting things in her file, when in fact the only thing he found interesting was that she had been her younger sister’s sole means of support for more than two years and that she had cut her own college career short to subsidize her younger sibling’s education. She was obviously still supporting the young woman who claimed she was attending a small but well-respected university in southern Florida. The copies of Callie’s bank statements showed regular transfers into her sister’s account, the large checks written with notations that they were for books and tuition. Claimed? What the fuck did that mean? Interesting.
Callie had eventually finished her degree in hotel management via online classes, but had taken a much lower-paying position working for some ass hat who had sent her to spy on him. No doubt she had taken the first job that had come along to avoid any downtime in income. Jace Garrett’s ability to gather intel in incredibly small increments of time had always impressed the hell out of Ian, and truthfully, he wasn’t an easy man to impress.
As he read further he nearly laughed out loud when he saw who she worked for. Hell, that rag of a tabloid had been trying to get someone into his club for months. It had been a running joke among his staff members because it was obvious the small tabloid’s staff wasn’t aware of the fact that Ian owned their parent company. But, at least now he knew she wasn’t trying to steal trade secrets. He took a few minutes to begin formulating a plan—one that he was sure would hold a great amount of appeal for the desperately financially challenged little reporter. He closed and then dropped the folder back on to his desk. Then he leaned further forward in his leather chair before steepling his fingers in front of him and just watched her. She was sitting across from him with her bare pussy snuggled against the leather chair he’d have to look at each day from now forward. Christ, he wouldn’t get any damned work done with that chair flaunting its enviable experience in his face every day. He’d probably have to redecorate the fucking shower, too.
Under his watchful gaze, she started to squirm, and it was obvious the instant she became aware of the fact her pussy was creaming the leather beneath her and that the evidence of her arousal was going to be obvious as soon as she stood up.
He waited until he could see she was a breath away from taking a header into panic again before giving in and deciding to it was time to give her something else to think about. “So tell me, Callie, what did your employer use as leverage to get
you to agree to spy on Club Isola?” In his peripheral vision, Ian saw Jace’s chest tense as if he were holding his breath, no doubt his friend was trying desperately to not laugh out loud at the look on her face. Hope you don’t play poker, little sub, because every emotion writes itself all over your beautiful face.
Ian could almost see Callie gathering herself up and preparing for battle. He was anxious to see if she’d try to lie to him. If she did, it would just give him more power over her, something she was going to learn a lot more about if he had his way. He just sat and waited as she seemed to be waging an internal battle. He didn’t have any doubt that she was trying to determine how much she could truthfully reveal without giving away everything.
Leaning back in his chair, he just watched her and took stock of the exquisite woman sitting in front of him. Her hair wasn’t just blonde, it was actually several different shades of blonde layered together. The more it dried, the lighter and wavier it became. He’d been fascinated by its texture when he’d combed it earlier and wondered what it would feel like spread over his thighs as she sucked him down. Knowing that the mass of silky waves reached her sweet ass meant that when walked beside her and placed his hand at the small of her back, he’d be able to entangle his fingers in the golden curtain of curls. Fuck, that thought alone sent blood rushing south in a big way. She was small, probably just barely five feet tall. Her features were as close to perfect as he’d ever seen, and he briefly wondered for just a minute why she hadn’t been tagged by some ruthless ad agency whose agents wouldn’t have batted an eye at exploiting her perfection for their financial gain.