Paula's Commitment [Le Club 4] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Skye Michaels

  A long, white florist’s box wrapped in a red satin ribbon had been delivered while they were at lunch and sat on her desk. She looked at Greg inquiringly, and when he just smiled at her, she pounced on the box, as excited as a child. She knew that Greg was aware of her history. She hadn’t had much growing up, and he liked to buy her presents just for the fun of seeing how excited she got. She never disappointed him.

  Natasha tore the lid off the box and opened the green tissue paper to find a dozen long-stemmed, red American Beauty roses lying in the box. She gasped, stunned by their beauty. “Oh, Gregory, they are beautiful. I have never had red roses before.” She hurriedly took them from the box and rushed to find a vase in the club kitchen. When she returned to her office with the roses in a vase, she put them on the corner of her desk.

  “There’s something else in the box, Tasha. Look under the tissue paper,” he said with a smile of anticipation lighting up his strong masculine features.

  Natasha rushed to push the green tissue paper aside and squealed in pleasure. She looked up into Greg’s face. It was alight with the love and understanding she knew he felt for her. She reached down and picked up the red seven-rose flogger from amid the green tissue. By whip maker’s standards, it was a work of art. The seven supple, plush, black leather tails were tightly braided. Each was tipped with a beautiful red leather rose accented by a green leaf. The handle was covered in black leather as well and had a braided loop. “Oh, Gregory, it is so beautiful.” She dropped her eyes and then dropped to her knees in the slave position on the floor and said, “I can’t wait to try it, Master.”

  “There’s one more present,” he said as he reached down to take her hand and help raise her back up. He reached under the green tissue and pulled out a flat black jeweler’s box and handed it to her. Natasha gingerly opened the box, knowing it would be something important. “Oh, Master,” she said as tears flooded her blue eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll be my obedient slave always, Tasha. I love you.”

  “Yes, Master, always,” she replied.

  He took the thin, black leather collar out of the box. It was studded with solid white-gold grommets and had white-gold dog tags with pavé diamond hearts embedded on the front of each one. Natasha turned them over and saw one was engraved with the word “Mine” and the other with the word “Always.” The date was delicately etched at the bottom with the name “Tasha” on one and “Gregory” on the other. He placed it around her neck and locked it in place with the gold padlock hanging from the end. He took the gold key, which was on a heavy gold chain, and put it around his own neck.

  She threw herself into his strong arms, and he crushed her to his heart. “I have wanted to give that to you for a while but wasn’t sure you were ready,” he said with a catch in his deep voice.

  “Oh, Gregory, I have been ready for a long time. There could never be anyone but you. You are the only man who has ever understood me, or who was ever strong enough to dominate me.”

  As Greg smoothed the curly tendrils of hair back from her face, she saw the tail of the colorful dragon on the back of his right hand. The tail slithered out from under the starched, white French cuff of his shirt. She knew where the tail led and what was under the shirt covering his muscular chest. It made her pussy gush with creamy anticipation. “Can we take a long lunch, Master, and try out my rose whip?” she asked breathlessly.

  He deepened his voice into the steely Master range and said, “No, slave! You will wait for your punishment and your pleasure until the end of the business day.”

  * * * *

  Gregory knew that the anticipation added tremendously to her pleasure and letting her direct the play would ruin the effect. He was dealing with a Domme who was barely under his command. He had to exert the maximum amount of control over her and himself if he was to prevail in subduing this woman.

  “Yes, Master,” she said humbly.

  * * * *

  At 6:00 that evening Gregory came into Natasha’s office and said, “Now, slave, we will go to the dungeon for your punishment.” He had changed out of his business suit and wore tight, black leather pants that enhanced his long muscular legs and impressive package. The imposing dragon on his chest glistened and seemed to pulse with life and fire.

  She rose from her desk, her legs trembling in anticipation. She picked up the red rose flogger and followed him to their favorite dungeon theme room. Natasha knew that Greg wanted a private room for this special night. He would be claiming her for always. She knew that this man was uniquely right for her.

  When they had unlocked the dungeon and entered, he said, “Strip, slave, and put on the cuffs.” When she had complied, he bound her to the chains hanging from the ceiling and bolted to the floor. She was immobilized and totally at his mercy.

  He strode around her, letting the tension build to impossible heights as she waited to see, and feel, what he would do. He picked up the rose flogger and ran the supple tails through his strong hands. She watched the leather tails slip through his fingers with both awe and longing. He stood looking at her as she trembled before him and slowly and gently ran the flogger over her body, skimming the bloodred leather roses lightly over the creamy skin of her breasts and belly, and down her thighs. She shivered as he walked behind her and repeated the process over her back and butt. She was so aroused that her pussy clenched, and moisture flooded from her sex. “Oh, please, Master,” she cried.

  “Silence, slave,” he said as he snapped the flogger, and a loud cracking noise split the tension in the air. He continued to stand just behind her, looking at her back and buttocks. She could feel them tremble in anticipation and excitement. She was eager for the pleasurable pain he was about to deliver and her total submission to him. He cracked the flogger and she jumped. She flinched as he ran the tails over her body again. When he finally cracked the flogger over her back and over her butt, the lightly stinging strokes elicited a sharp cry from her arched throat. The pain made her feel fully alive. The rose tails of the flogger lightly struck between her spread thighs and propelled her into a stunning orgasm. Electricity tingled up her spine and rolled through her body like lightning. Finally, she hung from the chains, drained and limp. He uncuffed her wrists and ankles and crushed her to his chest. He picked her up and took her to the sumptuously made bed in the corner of the dungeon and gently laid her down.

  * * * *

  He stripped out of his leather pants and lay down beside her, as he gently pulled her to him. Her mass of curling, blonde hair spread over the dragon’s head. He just held her as she came down from the endorphin high the pseudo whipping had engendered. The strokes had been lightly stinging and not nearly harsh enough to induce the incendiary orgasm that had exploded from her body. It was the anticipation, the fear, and the excitement of the scene that had provoked it. He knew that she craved his discipline. It was like a drug to her. He also knew it was a power struggle. His sub was anyone else’s Domme. He had to out-Dom the Domme, or she would try to take control. It was like having a lioness or a female wolf for a pet, dangerous yet exciting. He thrived on the constant challenge.

  “That was extraordinary, Master. I love my presents, and I love you,” she said as she snuggled down on his chest. The blood pulsed through his veins as he held a tight rein on his own desire. They were not done yet, and he knew that she eagerly waited for him to continue their encounter.

  Greg took her lips in a hard, brutal kiss, and she responded to his primitive demand by opening her legs to his hot and insistent cock, sucking him into her steamy heat. He was like the fire-breathing dragon emblazoned on his body, ready to explode as he pounded into her, impaling her. His orgasm exploded. The passion that smoldered in him was deep and dark. She convulsed around him, milking his iron shaft as his thrusting hips continued to pound into her until the exquisite pleasure poured through him and drained him. She followed him over the threshold into her own stunning orgasm.

  “You’re mine now, Tasha,
completely and irrevocably mine.” He had claimed this woman who was perfect for him in every way.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The shock of the phone call from Jason had jolted Trent out of his lethargy. The threat of losing his two precious baby girls made him realize that he could not take anything for granted. He couldn’t wait for Paula to come to her senses and come back to him. He had to go and get her. If he wanted her badly enough, he would just have to bite the bullet and go in fighting. Trent knew that Paula could be a handful, and she could hold a grudge with the best of them. But he also knew there was not a more caring, loyal, and loving friend or lover. The trick would be getting past her defenses and going in for the takedown!

  Trent had directed Christa to take the twins in for DNA testing, and Jason and Justin were making the necessary inquiries in Ecuador. There was nothing else to do right now but get his own house in order—and that meant bringing Paula home.

  He waited until early evening and drove to the office of Ocala Country Life magazine, which was located in a converted Victorian house at the other end of Fort King Street. Her car was still in the small parking lot along with a few others. He parked and went in the front door. He politely greeted the receptionist who was still at her desk and said, “She’s expecting me,” which was totally untrue. He walked confidently back to Paula’s office. She was working at the large table in her office sorting and arranging pictures of Justin and Kelly’s wedding for the upcoming June layout. He stood in the doorway until she finally sensed someone was there and looked up. Clearly she was shocked to see him but said nothing.

  “You have two choices, subbie. You can come with me quietly, and we will have a talk, or you can make a fuss, and I’ll take you out of here over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. It’s up to you.” He waited patiently for her response.

  “You wouldn’t dare. My staff would call the police...”

  “No they wouldn’t, and you know it,” he said with a wide and confident grin.

  She stared at him in disbelief. He was perfectly capable of doing exactly as he said, and she knew it. She would be well advised to think quickly, or he would make her decision for her. His patience was wearing extremely thin.

  “I would advise you to consider your options carefully, Paula. I’m really on the edge right now, and pushing me over it wouldn’t be to your advantage.”

  “I don’t care about your ‘edge,’” she said with a huff.

  “That is also not true, and you know it. Make up your mind. Your time is running out.” She could be the most irritating, prickly, annoying, wonderful, and sexy woman he knew! His emotions were all in a jumble, and he wasn’t sure which end was up.

  * * * *

  Oh, I hate that smirky male look on his face, she thought. But she had to admit, even if only to herself, that she really didn’t hate his look or him and that, in fact, she loved him outrageously. I have missed you so much, you big jerk, but I can’t just give in and crumble. I have to have some dignity. “Oh, all right,” she said through gritted teeth. I really do not want to go out of here with my ass in the air and my staff looking on. She took her time closing down her computer, putting her paperwork and gear away, shutting off her light, and grabbing her purse—all just to irritate him. It was working.

  “Now, subbie. Time’s up.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m coming.” When they got out to the parking lot, she said, “I’ll take my own car.”

  “Not a chance,” he said as he firmly took her arm and guided her toward his silver Porsche Turbo. He opened the door and pushed her down into the seat, forgetting to be gentle. “If you think I’d fall for that one, you are really losing it.”

  Oh well, it was worth a try. “I’m losing it? I think that would be you, buddy! You just kidnapped a member of the press!” Okay, so that’s pushing the window of credulity just a bit. She grinned to herself.

  “Christa is at home with the kids, so I think we’ll get a nice quiet theme room at the club for this little discussion. It promises to get a bit loud—especially when I spank your butt,” he said, threatening the one thing that was bound to get her Irish up.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she said again, knowing that was so totally not the case. It wouldn’t be the first time he had spanked her butt, and she didn’t look forward to a repeat performance.

  “You know I would dare, and right now the prospect is looking really tempting, so don’t push me.” Trent entered the security code at the gate, and they pulled into the club parking lot. He put his keys securely in his pocket and said, “Wait here. I’ll get a key. If you are not sitting right there in that seat when I come out, you are really going to regret it.” He used the Master voice that always got results. He gave her a stern look before climbing out of the car and slamming the door. She could see him grinning and whistling under his breath as he climbed the stairs to the front door of the mansion. She knew he thought he had her right where in wanted her. Oh, hell. He probably does.

  * * * *

  She was waiting when he came out with a key to the Executive Office theme room, and she was nervously twisting her fingers. It was the only theme room available on short notice without a reservation. He knew they would be comfortable there and would have total privacy. He took her arm and helped her out of the low-slung car. When she was standing firmly on her three-inch heels, he let go of her arm and allowed her to follow at her own pace. He knew he had to afford her some dignity, or she would be impossible to deal with.

  “I don’t know what we have to talk about,” she said in a stubborn voice as she lagged behind him, literally dragging her heels.

  She could be the most aggravating, stubborn, determined, fiercely loyal person he knew, and he had missed her terribly. The current problem with the twins had brought the situation into focus for him. He had to get her back. We all need her, but especially me. He was beginning to feel the edge of desperation. What if I can’t convince her to come back and give us another chance?

  He opened the door to the Executive Office theme room, ushered her through, and locked it behind them. “Have a seat, Ms. Greenley. We are going to have a little discussion,” he stated with a steely growl. “Why the hell are you so mad at me? I thought things were going really well before I left for Ecuador. What happened? And no bullshit. I want the real scoop, Snoop.”

  His use of Snoop and subbie, his two favorite nicknames for her, were calculated to soften her up.

  “Well, I guess you weren’t listening because I already told you in the car on the way back from Gainesville.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I told you that I loved you but that you only ‘cared about me,’ and I told you that was not enough for me.”

  “But I do love you, and I do care about you. Why did that piss you off?” He was dumbstruck. He just was never going to “get” women.

  “I have said it before, and I’ll say it again. You are really the stupidest man I have ever seen. No woman wants to make soul-shattering love with a man and then have him say he ‘really cares’ for her. It’s just plain insulting. If you couldn’t say you loved me, you should have just kept quiet.”

  He took a moment to consider what she had said. “I’ll admit I was having a hard time with the words, but the feelings were all there, simmering to the surface, just about to spill over. I didn’t mean to insult you. I love you, Paula. You mean everything to me. I have known it for a while, but I just wasn’t ready to say so. I don’t know why, just stupid, I guess. Are you ready to hear it now? Or do I have soften you up some more?” He held his breath as he waited for her response.

  * * * *

  “I’m pretty soft already, you big jerk,” she said as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She was determined not to let them fall. She had already cried enough tears over Trent and the twins. She wanted to hold out a little longer, make him suffer a little more, but she knew she was falling fast. She really could not resist him, flaws and all. Her heart gave a glad little jump, but she squashed it.
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  “Paula, I’m used to holding someone’s heart in my hands, literally. Can you trust me with yours? Will you take your collar back? Will you help me raise Maria Christina and Maria Teresa? I don’t want to have to do it without you. They need you, too,” he said with his heart in his eyes. She could see he was terrified she would say no.

  His pleading eyes melted her resolve. “I do love you, so much, and I already love them. Yes, yes, yes,” she said as she threw herself into his arms. Maybe I should have cut him some slack or given him a little more time. He pulled her close and held her like he would never let her go. She hoped he never would.

  “Let’s go home. I want to make love in our bed. If we hurry, we can tuck the kids in. I know they will be thrilled to see you. They have been asking for Tia Paula, but I want them to ask for Mommy.”

  They drove the short distance to his house, a large Tudor with a huge, oak-tree-shaded yard. When they walked into the nursery, they were greeted with wild cries of childish joy and many exuberant hugs and kisses from the two little banditos Paula had missed so much. They were already attired in their little footie sleepers, MT in pink with ballerinas and MC in pink with princesses. MC and MT were especially happy to see Tia Paula. After two stories and numerous hugs and kisses, they were finally tucked in on either end of the same large crib, with their huge teddy bears held close and their eyes heavy with coming slumber. They still weren’t ready to sleep in separate beds. Trent and Paula watched as their eyes finally closed. The twins were asleep before they left the room.

  As they walked up the stairs to the master suite on the second floor, Paula asked the question most on her mind. “What’s going on with the custody action? Calleigh told me about the challenge their father made to the adoption proceedings.”