by Laura Bailey
“So Miss Bailey. What information do you have for me?”
“Mr Lawson,” she mimicked him. “I don’t have any information; as I told you last night. I am merely repeating myself.”
“Get up.”
“Pardon?”
“I said get up!”
“What?”
“I mean it. Get up or I will drag you up, right here, in front of everyone.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
He was up out of his seat quicker than she would have thought it possible. He grabbed hold of her upper arms and practically lifted her out of the chair.
“Don’t make a sound; don’t make a scene. It will do you no good. We’re just going somewhere a little quieter to have a talk.”
He dragged her bodily out of the bar. She wondered why no–one sought to intervene, but then she was in their club, where everyone knew each other, she was the outcast. As he pulled her along, she complied with him, walking at his pace, embarrassed to be treated as such in so public a way. Reasoning to herself that this man was a well known figure in Washington, not some common criminal kidnapping her, there was only so far he would go, surely. He led her by the arm into the lobby and up the stairs to the next floor, where on either side were wooden doors.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Nearly there.”
He maintained his grip and his pace. With his free hand he fished into his jeans pocket and retrieved a key. He took her to the farthest door on the left, opened it and pushed her inside. She tugged her arm free.
“You can get off me now.” Her eyes blazed at him, rubbing at her arm where he had held her. “Just what do you think you are doing?”
Both standing still by the door, eyes locked on each other, he backed her hard against the door. His body pressed against hers. Her heart hammering in her chest. He placed his palm directly against her heart, just below her left breast, felt it pumping feverishly. His face so close to hers, she could smell his scent; rich, evocative, raw. She could feel his hand hot through her dress. His other hand lifted her hair out of her eyes with remarkable gentleness.
“I need you to tell me what is going on.” He said, in almost a whisper. In another situation it would have sounded like an endearment.
“I don’t know.”
He let his eyes leave her face; staring at the wall for a moment for two, all the while holding her still.
“I don’t think you understand how badly I want to know.”
He looked back at her and now she feared him, yet there was defiance in her eyes. He missed nothing.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“Do what you want.” Her chin had risen and she squared her face to him. “I don’t care.”
His arm went around the back of her neck and he propelled her forward, the other arm around her waist, steadying her as he steered her directly to the huge king sized wooden framed bed.
“Sit down” he barked at her.
She shouted back at him. “I came to you to find him.”
“Listen to me. He has five million dollars of mine. He knows I will hunt him down and that he couldn’t take you until the coast is clear. And frankly I’m not very happy about it. Does he really think I would be fooled by some innocent looking woman, throwing me a sob story to get me off your scent? Now, turn the tables and I think you will see that I’m not impressed. Did you help him out with that little part of the plan darling? You used to work in a security company over in London. That’s where you met him. Did you come up with it over there?”
“I was an administrator; that’s all.” Tara genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.
“Five million?” She said more to herself than him. “My God.”
The silence between them lasted a few moments. Damien glaring at her relentlessly; stewing. Her mind was whirling.
“Hold on. Have you stopped to think his accomplice just might be someone closer to home? He didn’t work alone; you employ many others, he did jobs with them. It could be any of those.”
Yes, the thought had occurred to him, and quite simply, he had of late engaged in some pretty strong armed tactics questioning those who he thought could have done it. He wasn’t popular back at the office anymore. The guys didn’t know who he was going to turn on next. But all around him he was looking for the one who had betrayed him. In his mind, he was potentially surrounded by deceit and it was a lonely place to be. He knew she had a valid point. It increased the pain he felt. He wanted to lash out.
“Answer me or I’m walking out of here.” She wasn’t joking; he could tell by the look on her face; she genuinely didn’t seem to know about the money; or she was the best actress he’d ever seen.
“Damn you woman.”
She rose from the bed but in one stride he was over her, spun her around, and bent her over the bed.
“Get your hands off me.” She bucked against him. He held her down more firmly.
“I don’t think so. You’re brave; I’ll give you that.”
“I’m going to scream for help if you don’t get the hell off.”
“Go ahead, we’re amongst my friends in this place, I don’t think they are going to come running to help you.”
“You bastard.” She used her feet to try to kick back at him. Her teeth found one of his hands and she bit into him, enraged at his treatment of her. He managed to pull his hand away; the urge to belt her around the head so strong that he had to literally count to ten in his head. At number eight he seemed to have made an instinctive but unconscious decision; he raised his right hand and brought it down on her behind. Spanking her buttocks without restraint; thoroughly, repeatedly. Not viciously, in fact not very hard at all, but all the same he found a satisfaction in it. More than a satisfaction, it triggered a desire in him to pound her in a different, sexual way, to take her hard from behind, between her luscious thighs; the sight of her shapely ass wobbling under his hand. He transcended to a need to take her as his, punish her with his body, to claim her, plunge into her tightness; his groin straining, hard now and throbbing, desperate to have her. His mind was clouding in confusion. He stopped suddenly, shocked at himself, going into the bathroom quickly, running the cold water scooping some up, throwing it over his face, his hand going through his hair.
Emerging from the bathroom, Tara had turned around now, facing him, flushed, her eyes darkened by the dilation of her pupils. She was standing by the bed, hands shaking, unnerved yet strangely aroused by what had felt such an intensely erotic act.
The tension between them was thick and tight. His body primed for an action they both knew was wrong, and a storm of intent still evident in his eyes.
“You better leave now. While you still can.”
She didn’t argue. Threatened by him yet unremittingly drawn to him she knew she had to go. Passing members in the lobby, she fled into the cool night air.
Chapter Three
What the hell was he thinking? Why did he just do that? Damien unbuttoned his shirt, dropping it on the floor, stripping out of his jeans. He walked into the bathroom and stood under the shower. He knew how to interrogate people; had years of experience doing it. And that certainly wasn’t a method he had used before. In fact, he had never behaved in that kind of way at all, in interrogation or otherwise. But there was something in those dark blue eyes of hers that he had never seen before, something he needed but didn’t understand.
Early the next morning, he called his team into his office.
“Ten days have now passed. I don’t need to remind you that heads are going to roll in this place, quite literally if I don’t get some answers soon. Mike didn’t do this on his own.” He sees betrayal all around him. Stony faces, silence, no responses.
“Now I know you are all fully aware of the repercussions.” Of course they were; they had served in the Special Forces alongside him. They knew him. Likewise, Damien didn’t expect anyone to step forward quite so publicly in this meeting. But he needed to let them know. T
he situation wasn’t going to go away; it was only going to get worse. He was close to losing any semblance of calmness. He felt the anger and disappointment in his core. He looked over at Todd, a long time colleagues with an even temperament, even though he was six foot four and built like a house.
“Stay behind will you? The rest of you can go.”
Once the room had cleared, Damien gestured for Todd to take a seat.
“I talked to Mike’s Fiancé. Last night.”
“And?”
“I don’t know...I don’t think she had anything to do with it, but I’m not sure. At this stage, she‘s still someone we need to keep an eye on. I’m not ruling her out just yet. How are the background checks on her going over in London?”
“Nothing suspicious has come up at all; still looking.”
“Ok, stay on it will you?”
“Will do.”
“Thanks Todd, appreciate it.”
“No problem.” He got up and left the room.
Alone now, Damien knew he didn’t think she had anything to do with it, deep down. He plainly saw the genuine look of surprise on her face when he mentioned the money. He wasn’t one hundred percent certain; pretty close, but his mind was confused by her; objectivity becoming lost. He wanted her to be guilty, needed it. Needed to punish her; needed her physically; wanted to be deep inside her, driving her hard until he found the release he had needed for so long. She beguiled him, so composed and beautiful in the heightened chaos of the drama surrounding her yet so fiery at the same time.
He picked up his cell. “We need to talk. I apologise that things got a little out of hand last night. Meet me at the Club this afternoon, 3pm. There will be a lot of people around; there is a reunion going on. You will be perfectly safe.” He knew he had deeper, darker motives but he couldn’t stop himself.
“OK.” Was all she said.
He sat back. She had been incredibly self-contained in her acceptance; cautious he presumed.
Putting down her cell phone, Tara sat in contemplation. The previous night had been shocking, brutal; yet a forbidden pleasure had arisen from it that she could never have imagined. A strange sensation of attraction to a dark need.
She needed to be in his presence again; she needed his roughness, his command; his touch. With tension in her stomach her skin grew hot at the thought of him; of his hands on her, of his body on hers. A powerful compulsion was enthralling her; forcing her to relinquish reason.
As 3pm approached, she walked up the steps of the Club, wearing a short black shift dress, simple in its design, her hair loose. A range of emotions within her that she refused to acknowledge. He would be waiting for her; the force of him unleashed frightened her yet she was drawn to him, a willing victim.
True to his word, the place was a hive of activity; smartly dressed groups of men standing outside talking and smoking together. Through the windows she spotted several women in cocktail style dresses, and jackets. As she walked into the bar, the volume of talk and laughter hit her and she struggled to see through the crowd. She assumed he would be where they had sat before but on reaching the table she found it occupied by two couples and looked around to try to see where he might be. At that moment, briefly, she considered fleeing, seizing her opportunity; yet she knew, if she did, he would only come and find her, a man of his resources. Walking through the groups, gently easing past the people gathered together, she felt an arm go around her. Turning, she saw him, and smiled with pleasure. The smile nearly broke his heart. He didn’t know how to take it.
“I did say it would be busier, didn’t I? But I hadn’t quite expected this! There’s a Library room; I doubt anyone is in there with this party going on. Follow me.” He took her by the hand. As they made their way, a stunningly attractive woman; blonde tresses trailing down her back, in a tight red cocktail dress, threw her arms around his neck.
“Damien, darling, so good to see you, where have you been hiding yourself? We must have a little talk.” She looked at him conspiratorially, suggestively.
“I m a little busy right now Gwen.” He unfolded her arms from his neck; Tara standing beside him, taking the scene in.
“Let’s go Tara.” He pulled her away by the hand.
She was jealous; she had to admit it to herself. She felt a shadow of a woman in comparison to the statuesque blonde. Did he have a history with her? Had they been intimate? She thought so; she felt sick, his hand still in hers. She pulled free from his hand. He looked down at her sharply, taking a hold of her arm. Leading her through the lobby, far less gently now, they went through to the back of the hallway and stopped outside a large double polished wooden door to the right. Pushing it open, he led her inside. It was an awe-inspiring room; antiquarian books arranged on bookshelves from floor to ceiling, guilt-edged engravings on the old fine leather covers. A marvellous chandelier hanging low from the ceiling; delicate corner lightshades.
“She’s a lush, and no, I have never slept with the woman.”
My God, how did he know what she was thinking? Blushing furiously, she turned to the bookshelf closest to her, pulling out a book to study it.
“I’m really not interested in your private life.”
“I just told you a fact.” If he had one good quality, it was his word. In things that truly mattered, he stood by the truth.
“Ok.” She had her back to him, ignoring him. She kept her attention focussed on the book, inspecting it inside.
He grabbed the book from her hands, pushing her against the bookcase with his body, towering over her.
“You are a moody, temperamental woman. Infuriating. For your lack of respect, your blatant disregard. Do you need to be spanked again? Is that what you want?”
His hands went to the back of her dress, where it ended at the back of her knees, and started to lift it slowly up. “I think you actually enjoyed it; it seems to make me think you want more; I see no contrition on your face; I see something else all together.”
She felt the first slap to her buttocks; not too hard but making her flesh wobble a little as it impacted. He did it again, and again, teasingly just stinging.
His hand reached further underneath her. He felt the outside of her panties. “You are wet. He slid his finger between her folds, through the silk. Suddenly he slapped her there. Slow, teasing slaps, against her clitoris; the most erotic sensation she had ever experienced.
“Open your legs wider.” She complied, her mind obeying his command automatically, inextricably entwining her needs with his actions. It gave him more room to spank her clitoris, and after each slap he rubbed his fingers against it, rubbing in the wetness. He brought his fingers up to his lips.
“You taste divine.” He could smell her scent. “God, woman, your so beautiful. His lips nestled her neck, kissing it gently, soothingly. “A beautiful traitor.” He said in to her ear; his voice husky and low. He wiped the hair out of her eyes. Traced the line of her cheekbone, ran his fingers over her lips. The slapping had stopped but between her buttocks she could feel him now, hard, erect. Fully aroused and making her aware of it.
“I’m not a traitor.” She whispered.
“Then tell me what I need to know.”
“Nothing.”
He was past working out right or wrong, his mind was not working rationally; he could not stop himself from wanting her, to punish her, to possess her; this woman who belonged to the man who had betrayed him, who treated him here with nothing but contempt. He hated liars. A devastating need for her; to break her.
He spoke into her ear quietly. “Denial will get you absolutely nowhere with me.”
He let her go, stepped back from her. She turned her body around, to look at him, to try to answer him, but he spoke first.
“I want you to pay attention to what I have to say. I have had some time to think, and I have come to the conclusion that the best solution at present is for you to, gradually, pay the money back to me.”
“It’s 5 million dollars! I don’t know if you�
��ve noticed, but I’m not an heiress. Right now, I don’t even have enough money for a decent breakfast!”
“That’s ok. There is another, much more pleasant way for you to repay me.”
“What the hell!” Her teeth were gritted as she virtually spat out the words.
He loved the fierceness with which she faced up to him; the spirit she showed in her defiance; it bore a strength of character he was proud to witness. It only aroused him more.
He stood before her, the fine shape of his body so distinct in the tailored suit. His height and stature, his physique so powerful, his eyes of fire; all served to make him a dangerous enemy; thrilling and deadly.
“I will draw up a Contract, so that it is very clear for you. For now we can just call it a verbal agreement. Which in fact, as you know, is equally binding. You will meet my desires, sexually. You will do what I want you to do sexually. You will satisfy me. Let me make it abundantly clear; You will pay off your debt by providing sexual pleasure to me. Now turn back around.”
She refused to move.
“Do as I say Tara, or I will make you.”
She couldn’t help herself; her acquiescence. Her body responding to his will, obeying him, yielding to his superior strength and his demands, but wary, ready to lash out against him.
As soon as she had turned, he pinned her against the bookshelf with his body; she could feel his cock again, hard between her buttocks as he pushed himself against her. His hands reached around to her neck, stroking the sides of it, moving down, reaching her breasts, going under them to cup them, feel their weight in his palms. Something snapping inside her; her decision to fight him. She tried to buck against him, furious at his manipulation of her, helpless with his weight on her. His left hand let go of her breast and seized hold of her chin, seeking to control her struggle. It just seemed to excite him more.
“You’re bloody wild.”
Holding onto the back of her head with one hand, he used the other to reach for his tie, managing to undo it solo handed, pulling it out from the collar. He grabbed her hands and brought them around the back of her.