One to Keep Google

by Sophie Oak

  “I hate her,” Rachel said, shaking her head.

  “No, you don’t,” Callie immediately replied.

  “She doesn’t waddle,” Rachel pointed out. “I waddle. I also bet she doesn’t pee forty times a day and worry whether or not she’ll fit into the bathroom stalls. I worry I’m going to get stuck and Max and Rye will have to grease me down to get me free.”

  “Well, she doesn’t have two superhot cowboys to go home to.” She was starting to get back into the rhythm. She relaxed and looked forward to the day.

  “She doesn’t need them,” Rachel replied. “She can go home and make love to her footwear. Damn, I’d like to get into that woman’s closet.”

  “Who’s that?” Callie asked, her jaw dropping just a little.

  Rachel’s eyes widened, too. “No idea. Wow. He’s big.”

  “And gorgeous.” Callie sighed.

  Jen followed their line of sight. Two big men stood across from them at the funnel cake stand. One was huge. He had to be six foot five at the least. He was big and broad, with inky black hair peeking out from under the hat he wore. He turned to her, and his dark eyes held hers for the briefest of moments before sliding away. He leaned over to talk to his slightly smaller companion. The smaller man had nothing on his friend. She doubted anyone would look at him when they could stare at the gorgeous god of a man next to him. His eyes were too small for his face, his mouth slightly crooked.

  “Aren’t you two married?” Jen asked. “Seriously, you have four guys between the two of you.”

  “We’re married, not blind,” Rachel shot back.

  “Jennifer!”

  She started at the sound of her name booming across the grounds. Stefan stalked toward her, walking right past the big guy they were staring at. He wore jeans, boots, and a heavy sheepskin coat. His Stetson sat firmly on his head. Ah, his cowboy clothes. He wore them when he helped out at the stables. Normally he was in slacks and designer shirts, but her heart always sped up when he went country. He was tall, and his lean strength was on display even under the coat. He was beautiful.

  “You two might not be blind, but Stef seems to think I’m deaf,” she said with a shake of her head. Once again he’d made her the center of attention. Everyone was looking her way.

  Her friends simply sighed and watched as Stef moved toward her with predatory grace.

  “You are in trouble, sub,” Stef said with silky menace.

  Yep, it looked like she was.

  Chapter Eleven

  The sick feeling in the pit of Alexei’s stomach wouldn’t go away. Though the day was cold, he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t seem to sense anything but the hollow feeling that permeated his center.

  “You want some food? You haven’t had anything all day?” Ivan asked.

  Because he kept seeing that girl with the unseeing eyes, her throat split like an unhappy smile. He’d gone through her wallet. Cindy Pope. Aged twenty-one. She had a student identification card as well as her driver’s license and some card that gave her permission to be horny. Ivan had laughed at that, saying something about sluts needing licenses in America, but Alexei knew what it was. It was a joke some friend had given her. Cindy would probably pull it out from time to time and laugh and remember the good time she’d had.

  Cindy had no more time. The last moments of her life had been filled with pain and fear, and more than likely gratitude when it was all over. Snuffed out by a monster doing his job.

  This was what he’d become. This was how he was different from Nick. Nick hadn’t pretended to be anything he wasn’t. Nick dealt his death from the outside. Alexei had infiltrated his enemies and done their dirty work. He’d given up who he was and what he’d believed in to get revenge for his brother’s death, but it struck him as he was helping Ivan dump that young woman’s body that it was he, himself, who had truly betrayed Mikhail.

  “One,” Ivan said, switching to English as they reached the front of the line.

  “Yes, sir,” a friendly-looking man said, turning to the woman operating the fryer.

  “Alexei,” Ivan said, slapping him on the chest. “Alexei, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

  Probably not since all he could see was cold limbs and vacant eyes. He forced himself to focus. He let his eyes wander to the place where Ivan was gesturing. There were three women standing together talking. One was painfully pregnant, a large dog at her side. The other was a cute woman with dark hair and glasses, and the third…

  He was glad he hadn’t forced food into his stomach because it would surely have come up as he looked at the tall brunette with the slender frame. She was hauntingly familiar. He’d stolen her picture from her home, and it was still in his pocket. She was smiling like she had the night before in the tavern.

  “It’s her.” Satisfaction dripped from Ivan’s tone. He had switched back to Russian.

  “I don’t know.” Of course, he was sure it was her, but he had to try. He had to stall Ivan. His head was spinning. He didn’t have a plan, but he knew he had to do something.

  Was he really considering it? Was he truly thinking about giving up his revenge? A cold, hard knot formed in his chest. No. He couldn’t. Perhaps he was a bad man for it, but he couldn’t let Pushkin go. Mikhail would forgive him one day, but he was the man Pushkin had made him.

  Still, he hesitated at the thought of the artist in Ivan’s tender care. She could give up the painting, but Ivan wouldn’t let her live. He couldn’t.

  “It’s her.”

  “You can’t be sure,” Alexei murmured. “You were wrong last night.”

  Ivan’s shoulders shrugged. “Bah, these American girls all look alike. Maybe we should simply start asking. These people seem dim enough. We will say we know her but can’t find her.”

  He knew how to counter that. Ivan had gotten into plenty of trouble for bringing attention to himself. “Better not. When the girl turns up dead, they will remember.”

  “And we’ll be halfway to Moscow by then.”

  He pressed on. “And the next time Pushkin needs something done in the States, he’ll look to someone else.”

  Ivan growled. He liked moving up in the organization. Traveling and talking to other syndicates was a sign that a man was moving up. He wouldn’t jeopardize that.

  “We have to be patient,” Alexei advised. “It’s a big festival. We just need to get close. Someone will say her name, and then we will know.”

  “Jennifer!”

  Alexei was startled at the shout. He turned, and a tall cowboy strode past him, his every muscle giving off the signals of one angry man. The cowboy walked quickly, but Alexei was almost certain it was the same man from last night. Stefan Talbot. The one Nick had warned him about. All around him people whispered as he moved through the crowds.

  “Or we could get lucky.” There was a smirk on Ivan’s weasel-like face. He took the fried bread the stall owner passed to him and began to eat with singular satisfaction.

  The cowboy, who had inadvertently given away young Jennifer, took her by the elbow. The artist’s eyes rolled, but she followed along. Her friends didn’t seem alarmed by the man’s actions. They simply shook their heads and went back to talking.

  “Smile, Alexei. We’ll be on our way home tonight. Stick with me. I’m lucky, my friend. I’m going places.”

  Yes, Ivan was going straight to hell, and damn if he wouldn’t be there with him.

  * * * *

  “Is there any point in letting you know you’re hurting my arm?” Jen asked the question despite the fact she knew the answer.

  Stef was in full-on Dom mode. His gorgeous face was set in stubborn lines as he led her into the warmth of the town hall. He passed the long lines of people waiting to sign up for activities and completely ignored Nell when she tried to get him to sign up for her “Vegans Do It Humanely” newsletter.

  “Not really,” he said shortly, though she noticed his hold loosened.

  “You’re mad.”

  “I am not ma
d, love.”

  Yep, he was mad. He’d stopped using contractions. He got clipped and formal when he was mad.

  “I am merely irritated by your obvious lack of understanding,” he continued as he turned down a hall that led to the city offices. It was quieter in this part of the building. “I was under the assumption that we began a relationship earlier today, one in which I called the shots.”

  “In the bedroom,” she replied.

  He stopped in the middle of the hall. “I asked you to do one thing. I asked you to wait for me. You were to wait at home while I helped Max and Rye, and then I was going to come and get you. Was that such an unreasonable request?”

  “It seemed like it at the time.” At the time, she’d been a bit miffed.

  “You have never driven in the winter in the mountains. The whole time you lived here, you never had a car.”

  She growled inwardly. That request seemed more and more reasonable with every word he spoke. “Your dad drove me.”

  “It has been a long time since he drove himself anywhere. He has a limo. I asked him to stay at home, too.”

  “Yeah, he wasn’t happy about that. Stef, you have to talk to him. He came all this way.”

  His eyes hardened. “I have been here for almost twenty-five years waiting for him. He can stand an afternoon.”

  “Babe, he’s been sick,” she pointed out.

  Something dark passed over his eyes, and for a second, she wished she could take it back. His shoulders squared again, and the brief flare of pain she’d seen was covered up in bravado.

  “Are you going to obey me, or do we quit here?”

  It was so much easier to not fight him now that she saw his arrogance for what it was. King Stefan tried to keep everyone at arm’s length because he needed the control. He needed to be needed. He needed to have a place here, and the only way he was sure of that place was to be the generous benefactor, to be useful to everyone around him. But what did Stef himself need?

  He needed her. She felt it deep in her bones.

  “I’m not quitting, babe. I told Rachel, I’m making my stand.”

  His stance relaxed slightly. “Well, love, make your stand in here.”

  He used a key to open the door to an office in the hallway. Jen briefly saw the nameplate. County Engineer.

  “Nice, I didn’t even know we had one of those,” she said as he hustled her in. He flicked the lights on, and she glanced around the room. “Oh, it’s you.”

  It had to be. No one else would have hooks in the ceiling. Oh, sure, to the untrained eye it probably looked like he was a man who liked heavy hanging plants, but she knew the difference. Stef liked to be perverse in a lot of different places.

  There was a click as he locked the door. “I like to do my part to help the community. I almost never use this office, but it’s here if I need to take a meeting with someone from out of town. Most of the people in town prefer to hold meetings at Stella’s. The coffee is better. I’m mostly in charge of planning and beautification. Now strip.”

  He stared at her, one brow arched, his back against the door.

  It looked like she would make her stand without any clothes on. She shrugged out of her coat and kicked off her boots.

  “Fold them, please.” Stef’s voice was deep and steady, but she could see that his eyes were heating up. They were a glorious slate color as he watched her.

  At least he’d said please. Jen carefully folded the clothes as she took them off. She shivered despite the heat coming from the vents above. It was still chilly. Her nipples were hard nubs pointing in Stef’s direction. Now that had nothing to do with the cold. They always pointed Stef’s direction. A quiver started in her belly. She was alone with Stef, and all of that intensity of his was focused on her.

  “I’m going to teach you some things.” His sensual lips moved, but his eyes never left her body. “Your training begins now. Do you understand why I intend to punish you?”

  She swallowed. Punishment. He made the word sound like dirty, sick pleasure. “Because I disobeyed you.”

  “Yes.” He slid his hands into the inside pocket of his coat and came out with a plastic bag. “You disobeyed a direct order given for your safety and my peace of mind. I didn’t ask you to stay home. I told you to. I understand that might upset you, but from time to time I will have things I won’t move on. This isn’t a one-way street. It might seem harsh to you, but I assume there are some things you will be unmoving on.”

  While he spoke, he set the bag on his desk and then slid his coat off his shoulders. He hung it up, along with his hat, and went around to the front of his desk.

  She stood still, waiting for his orders. It might not be the bedroom, but it certainly felt intimate. She’d agreed to play his submissive. “I didn’t know I had that power over you.”

  He turned his face to her, a slight smile on his mouth. “Really? So I’m allowed to fuck other girls, am I?”

  She felt herself flush. “I will cut your balls off.”

  She immediately regretted her words, but the image of him with another woman made her want to rage. She’d had to handle it when they weren’t together. It might only be a D/s relationship, but she simply couldn’t watch him with someone else. She waited for him to put her in her place.

  He simply chuckled lightly as he pulled out office supplies. “I rather thought so. As I prefer my balls attached to my body, I think I’ll forgo the other women. See, you have unmoving edicts, and so do I. One of my unmoving edicts is that you remain alive and in one piece.”

  “Well, if you put it that way,” Jen grumbled. He was making her crazy. She was standing there naked, and he was playing with paper clips. He pulled at one and then another.

  “I didn’t realize I had to put it a particular way.” He twisted the metal clip over his forefinger. “Perfect.” He laid the first one down and went to work on the second. “As far as unmoving edicts go, let me give you a second. I realize that sharing seems to be all the rage amongst the women of Bliss, but you should know that I will not be jumping on that particular bandwagon. Don’t go looking for a third.”

  That was the furthest thing from her mind. She could barely handle Stef, much less a friend of his. “You’re safe. I know Callie and Rachel go on and on about how hot the sex is, but they have to do the laundry, too. Other women see hot double penetration, and all I see is double the underwear to clean. And I bet they eat a lot, too.”

  Stef laughed, the first time today he’d laughed for her. “I don’t think you’ll have to do much laundry at the estate. However, you deeply underestimate my creativity if you think I can’t find a way to fill every hot hole you have, love. On your knees, Jennifer. I’m going to teach you the slave position.”

  She sank to her knees, grateful he’d had a plush carpet installed instead of the stained concrete that covered the rest of town hall. She settled into a sitting position, the carpet soft under her legs. Of course, Stef would have his comforts. She threaded her fingers together behind her back, thrusting her breasts out. She breathed deeply and straightened her spine. Her knees were splayed wide so her pussy was on display for him. She lowered her head submissively. It wasn’t more than a few seconds before his boots came into view.

  “Very nice. Tell me, and think carefully about the answer, where did you learn this? You have perfect form.”

  The jealousy dripped from his every word. She was glad her head was lowered and her hair covered her face because she couldn’t help but smile. He thought she’d had a previous Dom. “I learned it from books. You would be surprised what you can find these days. I love a couple of authors, but Amber Rose is the best. She describes this position as a Dom favorite. I wanted to know what you liked, Sir.”

  His hand lifted her chin up. “Not Sir and not Master. My name is Stefan.”

  “But I thought your subs called you one or the other.”

  “They weren’t mine,” Stef explained. “They were women I trained for brief periods of time.”
>
  “I thought that’s what I was.” She pointed out his faulty logic gently.

  “I would prefer Stefan.” He stepped back.

  She kept her gaze on him. He might not recognize it, but he was starting to bend.

  “Stay in position. I need to decorate these lovely breasts,” he said, holding the clips in his hand.

  “Those are paper clips.” She watched as he got on his knees in front of her. His hands came out to cup her breasts. Her skin quivered under his touch. Amber Rose hadn’t covered office supplies in her books.

  “Are they? I think I can make them into something much more interesting. Don’t move. Stay in your position. These lovely breasts of yours are my playthings.”

  His fingers were callused from holding a brush for long hours. It wasn’t merely from painting though. Stef worked with his hands all the time. He worked the horses at the Harper Stables. He helped build with his neighbors. He was always using those hands to create. Now his strong fingers pinched at her nipples, creating a deep ache in her pussy. He plucked at a nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Her pussy was already wet, and she could feel her body begin to hum.

  “I love the color of your nipples, perfect innocent circles of rose and brown.” He leaned over, his husky words sliding over her flesh like a warm blanket. He lowered his head, and his tongue came out. The sight of his tongue curling around her nipple caused her to moan. He sucked the tip into his mouth, sending sparks shooting from her breast to her pussy.

  “This isn’t torture, Stef.” It felt like heaven.

  He came back to his knees, a slightly sinister look on his face. He winked at her and held up the paper clip. “Oh, it will definitely be torture, love.”

  He pinched her nipple with one hand and then slid the clip on.

  She gasped as her nipple was caught in the clip. It didn’t hurt exactly. He’d stretched it out so it didn’t bite, but it held the flesh in a tiny vise. Already she could feel the pull of the discomfort. It reminded her that he was in control. She was a plaything, clamped and ready for his pleasure.