by Jane Henry
Elena frowned. “Did you go to the police?”
The brunette shook her head. “No. We don't trust the police. But Denise's boyfriend hit her last year, and you guys helped her find a lawyer and stuff, without going to the police. So, we came here first. We know our rights.”
Elena sighed. “When did this happen?” she asked.
“Last night,” the brunette said, casting her eyes down. Damn. Though they seemed untrustworthy, Elena had to investigate further. Under ordinary circumstances, she'd try to get the women to go to the police, but that didn't seem to be the best strategy at this juncture.
Elena nodded. “I'm so sorry,” she said. “How did you two manage to get out?”
They looked at each other for a moment before the blonde started talking rapidly. “My restraints were loose!” She said. “I managed to get out and then untied both of us. We grabbed our clothes and got the hell out of there.”
Elena blinked, then nodded again. “I'm sorry, girls. Why don't I put you with one of our counselors who can help you with this? Okay?”
She stood, and the two tear-stained women followed her. Elena introduced them to Nadia, the volunteer counselor, who ushered the women into her office.
Nadia, a middle-aged Russian woman with thick brown hair looped into a wide braid, smiled at her. Nadia and Elena had been friends for years, and worked together at Centered for even longer. Nadia had been married for twenty years, had three adult children, and volunteered regularly at the clinic. Though she'd lived on American soil for the entirety of her marriage, she still had a slight Russian accent. “Going for a stroll, honey?” she asked, her words meticulously pronounced.
Elena hadn’t been planning on leaving quite yet, but the idea of a walk sounded perfect. She nodded. “Text me if you need me,” she said, leaning in to whisper. “Not so sure I trust these two.”
Nadia nodded, her smile unwavering. She'd been around the block a time or two, and knew how to handle the situation. “Got it. Let's chat later, okay?”
“Absolutely,” Elena called over her shoulder as she took her leave.
It felt good to be outside for a bit. She felt unsettled by what the girls had told her, and the more she thought about it, the more fired-up she got. Their story couldn’t possibly true… could it? The clinic was just a few blocks away from Queensborough Street, where The Club was located. She was going to take a walk, all right, and she knew exactly where she was going. She was curious how Blake would respond to such blatant accusations. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen.
Alex: Hey. I’m not heading into The Club tonight, and I don’t want you going there until we’ve talked.
Furrowing her brow, she wondered what that was about, at the same moment another text came in, reminding her that MisterHaven had asked her to check in with him an hour ago. Damn!
MisterHaven: Hey. I thought you were gonna text me an hour ago. Lanie? You okay?
She groaned out loud as she responded.
LanieLove: Um, yeah. I'm sorry, got totally distracted and forgot to text. I'm doing okay. You?
Between the conversation she’d just had at Centered, followed by the text from Alex, and now from MisterHaven, she was starting to get pretty pissed off.
MisterHaven’s response didn't come for a moment, but when it did, she bit her lip.
MisterHaven: I'm good. But you're pushing it, little girl.
What did that mean?
She frowned.
LanieLove: Yeah? What is that supposed to mean?
There was no response for a minute, as her anger got the better of her. Having started off the day on the wrong foot, the crazy busy day at work delivering not one but two sets of multiples, then heading to Centered only to have the women say that her very favorite place in the world was responsible for women being victimized? Now MisterHaven, the one and only man she really trusted beside her brother, was gonna go all dom on her because she forgot to text him? What was this, some type of twisted reality show?
Her phone buzzed and for a minute she glared at it, before she realized she was shooting negative energy at the one friend who'd had her back more than anyone. What the hell had come over her?
MisterHaven: Yes. Lanie, you need to settle down. I'm just worried about you, and trying to help, and it seems you're giving me attitude at every juncture. And frankly? I don't like that.
She sighed. But she'd come to the entrance to the large, nondescript brownstone at 826 Queensborough. Squaring her shoulders, she faced the entrance, opened the door, and nodded curtly to the two bouncers whose warm smiles dissolved when they took in her pissed-off expression. They stepped back. No one messed with Alex Slater; therefore, no one messed with Alex Slater's kid sister. Elena knew this well, and today, she was grateful that they all gave her wide berth. She knew Alex wasn't here at the moment, which was unfortunate, because she had shit to discuss, and she wanted to discuss it now, which further meant that the man she’d have to talk to was Blake, and God if he didn't piss her off.
She picked up her phone and shot off a quick text.
LanieLove: Thanks for the concern. Long, long, day. I'm fine. Will text in a bit.
She marched past the bar, where Alice waved to her before Elena stormed past, noticing that The Club was filling up with members now that it was getting into early evening. Blake's office was at the very back of the main floor, and set up with enough video cameras that if Blake was in the office, he'd see her coming. The large door to his office was slightly ajar which stopped her not at all as she shoved the palm of her hand flat against it, feeling the satisfying smack as the door swung open. He was leaning up against his desk, cell phone in hand, and when she walked in, he hit a button that looked like send and placed his phone down as if he'd been expecting her. He folded his arms across his chest, his eyes focused on her with an unreadable expression and a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.
“Elena,” he greeted.
She stopped just two feet in front of him. “Blake,” she spat back, ignoring the fact that storming in here like this was really pretty rude, and that she could've at least called or taken a breather before she went on a fact-finding mission with Blake as the target of her irritability and angst after a shitty day.
Whatever.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. Given the fact that for one quick minute she actually wanted an excuse to take her eyes off the ones that were burning a hole straight through her, she picked up her phone and glanced at the screen.
MisterHaven: No problem, honey.
Just to piss Blake off, she decided to be rude and respond while Blake waited for her.
LanieLove: Thanks. I'll be back in a bit.
As she put her phone in her purse, ready to find out what the fuck was going on, and whether or not Alex’s admonition not to come to The Club had anything to do with the accusations the women back at Centered made, the phone on his desk buzzed. Blake looked at his phone and she stared, as bits and pieces began to connect.
No.
Widower. Long-term dominant. Busier in the evenings than during the day. No children.
No!
Her eyes met his, and she realized he was connecting the dots at the very moment she had. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and she gaped, as his jaw clenched.
“No fucking way,” she whispered, her head shaking from side to side.
He glared at the message on his phone, fingers swiping as he replied. Seconds later, her phone predictably buzzed.
“Yes fucking way,” he said, as he shook his head in wonder, the fury rolling off him confirming that he'd been every bit as ignorant about the truth as she'd been.
All she could do was stare.
He was the first to move. With painfully controlled movements, he stalked to his office door, slammed it, and hit the lock, then turned, marching toward her with a heat she felt down to the tips of her toes. She'd never seen him so mad, and for reasons she couldn't quite fathom, she felt her panties dampen as her thigh
s clenched and she backtracked toward his desk, her hands flailing out behind her, while her mind played over and over, “No way, no way, no way, no way.”
He stalked toward her until her ass hit his desk, and she had no choice but to bend backward to avoid colliding with him. He towered over her, placed both hands on the desk on either side of her, his blue eyes glaring. His brows were drawn together, nostrils flared, and the power that emanated from him had her heart pounding in ways she couldn't decipher. Now that he was close, she could smell the woodsy scent of raw masculinity and anger, and he pressed up against her, the heat of his body overtaking her as the length of his rock-hard erection confirmed she wasn't the only one who was fucking turned on.
“I've got nowhere else to go,” she whispered. “And you're scaring me.”
It was scary in a good way, the way she felt when one of the doms tied her wrists or unfastened the buckle of his belt, fear dancing with arousal, the knowledge deep down in her bones that this wasn't safe, this wasn't gentle, but fuck if she didn't want to taste every last bit of the delicious power he wielded.
“Scaring you?” he whispered in her ear, one hand bracing himself on the desk as another threaded fingers through her hair, looping the midnight black locks around his enormous fingers and tugging her head back. She couldn't help it, as the moan came from deep within her. She was panting, could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped for air. She was drowning, and he was pushing her in even deeper. “I'm scaring you?” he rasped. “Little girl, I haven't even begun.”
He held her head back, the pull along her scalp tingling in delicious pain, as he continued to whisper. “You knew, didn't you, Lanie? You knew it was me, and you played me like a fucking instrument.”
The accusation hit her straight in the solar plexus, and she lost the last thread of self-control holding her together.
“Fuck you!” she fumed, her hands hitting his chest so hard she could feel the slap in her palms, trying fruitlessly to push him off of her, and he didn't budge an inch. “I didn't fucking know! God! You think I knew? You think I'd pour my heart out to you? You think I…”
But she got no further as he stepped back, nabbed both of her wrists, pinned them down to her side and spun her around. With a sweep of his massive hand across his desk, papers and pens and paperclips went flying, bouncing off the floor and the chair. He placed both of her hands on the desk, and pushed her torso so that she was flush against the gleaming cherry wood surface. She struggled against him but was completely overpowered. Holding his hand against the small of her back, his other rose and fell, a searing smack landing straight across her ass. She howled and twisted, but couldn't get away, one blistering spank after another landing. Her ass was on fire as her whole body teemed with arousal.
A dim part of her brain wanted to tell him to stop, but she couldn't, because even in the moment she knew this was exactly what she needed. After half a dozen hard swats, he turned her around to face him, one huge hand engulfing her chin and bringing her eyes to his. “You don't swear at me,” he growled. “You don't tell me what to do.” His blue eyes pierced hers. “From now on, we lay our cards on the table and you'll fucking be honest with me. Yeah?”
She gasped and could only nod her head, as a split second later, his mouth was on hers and fucking hell, it was the best kiss she'd ever had in her life. His lips met hers hard, the possessive feel of them as powerful and fierce as he was. She moaned as his tongue touched hers. He'd broken the seal, and now a floodgate of emotion raced through her veins.
Pushed up against the desk, her ass burned from the spanking he'd given her. As he continued to ravage her, his fingers raked her blouse up. As his rough, hard hand found her breast, her knees buckled. God, the man fucking knew how to touch a woman. Her nipples were hard, her body limp at his mercy, her clit zinged with arousal and her core pulsed with the need to feel him.
This wasn't just the arrogant asshole she'd been crushing on for months. This wasn't just the severe, distant owner of The Club. This was the man who'd helped her get her shit together when no one else could. This was the man who'd listened to her pour her heart out, watching over for her with an almost paternal gentleness—steady, stern, and unyielding.
He pulled his mouth off hers just long enough to whisper a heated, furious, desperate, “Elena.”
Her voice unnaturally low, pled with him. “God, I'm sorry I've been such a bitch.”
His forehead up against hers, he grinned, actually grinned, those wrinkles around his eyes creasing. “You'll pay for those bitchy comments, little girl,” he crooned in her ear. Her eyes closed as heat flared across her chest.
“Make me pay,” she begged. “Make me fucking pay.”
She heard the sound of his belt buckle unfastening. God. Was he going to fuck her or spank her, and did it even matter? She wanted all of it. She wanted all of him. The swish of the leather being pulled through the loops made her legs clench. She opened her eyes and bit her lip as he took his belt in hand, doubled it over, spun her around, and pushed her back up against the desk.
“You wanna pay?” he growled in her ear.
“Yesss,” she moaned. The buckle hit the desk seconds before his hands reached to the front of her scrubs, nimbly pulling the drawstring and shoving them down, along with her panties, so she could step out. He took one moment to draw his hand across her inner thigh before he pushed her legs apart, positioning them so her ass was on prominent display. God, she was bared to Blake and she’d never been so turned on in her life. Fuck, could he see her honey glistening on her thighs? She was gonna come just from being stripped by him.
The cool of the desktop hit her cheek as he firmly positioned her, head down, ass bared. She heard him pick up the belt again, and she wanted it, she needed to be marked by him. The whiz and snap of his belt made her shriek as he lashed her, pain and heat suffusing together, but it wasn't unbearable. It was delicious, and she arched her back for more. Another swing, and heat striped her ass.
“You'll do as you're told,” he growled, before the smack of leather hit her naked skin again.
She could only nod, wanting more, wanting harder, and somehow he knew, as he reared back and snapped his belt against her again, and again, and again. Her ass was on fire, her clit throbbed with need, her eyes shut tight as she took the spanking she’d been craving like a drowning woman craved air. She heard the belt hit the floor, and the telltale sounds of his own jeans being unfastened.
Yes.
With his hands on either side of her hips, he pulled her to him, his erection pressed up against her, warm, and hard as flint. His mouth came to her ear. “You gonna be a good girl?” he growled.
She grinned, spreading her legs for him. “Fuck no,” she said, earning a wicked tug of the hair just seconds before he thrust his cock between her legs. She was so ready for him, slick and heated, and it felt so fucking good being filled by him.
Arousal ripped through her, tearing her apart in the most delicious way possible with every thrust of his hips. Flames leapt across her chest and her clit pounded. She wanted him, needed him, her pussy milking his cock for what he had to give her. He pulled her hair, making her scream as a savage thrust had her about toppling over the edge.
“Brat,” he growled.
“Mmmm,” was her only response. He smacked her thigh hard with the flat of his hand, and the touch sent her over the edge. She screamed, her head thrown back as she climaxed. Fuck, she'd never come like this, the orgasm tearing through her body with abandon, electric shocks of pleasure zinging through every inch of her, and as she came, hard and long, she heard him grunt his own release.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled, moaning into her hair as they both gave way to ecstasy. The thrusts slowed with every beat of her heart, until she lay, limp and sated, across the cool top of his desk.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. He said nothing, but leaned down and kissed her cheek, the prickle of his whiskers a delicious contrast to the warm, tender feel of hi
s lips.
“Easy, baby,” he said. “Stay right there. I'm gonna take care of you now, honey.” Who was this man? Blake had never spoken to her with such gentleness, but this wasn't just Blake, this was MisterHaven.
He pulled out. She moaned at the loss of him, but another kiss on her cheek comforted her.
As her heartbeat slowed, her eyes still shut tight with her face pressed up against his desk, her mind finally began to waken.
What the hell had they just done?
Chapter 5
“What the hell. Daphne?” Blake called through the open office door. And then a split second later, repeated more loudly, “Daphne!”
Daphne stuck her head in his door and regarded him with wide eyes. “Y-yes, Boss?”
“What the fuck is this shit?” he demanded, brandishing a paper at her, before turning his attention to the stack of checks on his desk awaiting signatures and scratching out his name.
Daphne took a cautious shuffle-step forward and leaned over to glance at the paper, while one slim finger grabbed a lock of her long, red-gold hair and began to twist it. “I-it’s an invoice?” she suggested.
Blake threw the pen in his hand down on the desk and huffed out a breath, feeling a flare of annoyance in his gut that he knew was completely out of proportion to the situation.
“Already fucking know it’s an invoice, Daff. My first clue was the word INVOICE in huge block letters at the top of the page. My second clue was that you placed it in the folder on my desk labeled Invoices. My question is, what’s the invoice for? It’s from some landscaping company. In case you haven’t noticed,” he said acidly, waving a hand in the air to illustrate the building, the street, the neighborhood, the city around them. “We don’t have land to landscape.”
Daphne took the paper and quickly scanned the rest of the sheet, while her pale forehead creased in concentration.