“The sales girl was right?”
“No. I’m just tough.”
“Ah.” He licked her left nipple before putting on the heart. “They look stunning,” he said before holding the dress for her to wiggle back into.
“Can you see them?” she asked.
“The material of your dress is thick enough that they’re not obvious.” But yes, he could see them. Since others wouldn’t be looking, no one else would know her secret.
Once she was presentable, he pressed the button to restart the lift.
“Through those doors and down the hallway, then turn left,” he said.
“Do I need to scatter some breadcrumbs so I can find my way back?” With that said, his sensational sub pushed through the swinging double doors and strutted toward the restaurant.
But he stood there, staring like an idiot male.
She moved her hips in an exaggerated sway, and all he could think about was that sexy, sparkly bling. Her hair swayed as she tossed her head, and she kept her shoulders rolled back. Even her tattoo tantalized.
What the hell had he asked for?
She was standing near the maître d’ when he caught up to her. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Julio was laughing at him.
“Good evening, Mr. Aldrich, Ms. Farrell. Right this way, please.”
He caught her elbow. “Enough,” he said. The word sounded like a growl, but he couldn’t make his vocal cords work correctly.
“My nipples are hard,” she whispered. “And that makes my pussy wet,” she whispered. Then she extracted her arm and followed Julio.
A few seconds later, in a motion so natural and brash that it was the ultimate in eroticism, she reached back and slapped her own right butt cheek.
He’d never been harder. Or more determined to claim a woman.
Julio led them to one of the private rooms, told them the wine would be delivered immediately then wished them a good evening.
“Make it ten minutes,” Kennedy told Julio.
“Very good, sir.”
Then they were all alone in private, on the eighth floor, with an exquisite view of the city.
A table was set for two, with a white linen tablecloth, empty glasses and a pitcher of cucumber-infused iced water. A small vase held some fresh-cut flowers, and a candle flickered. Instrumental music filtered through the room, and the overhead lighting was conducive to romance.
“Allow me.” He pulled back a chair, but when she went to sit in it, he intercepted her, holding her, taking the seat himself, then pulling her face down over his lap.
She squealed. “What are you doing?” she demanded, even as she reached for the floor for balance.
“Did you think that little display wouldn’t get to me?”
“You’re the one who told me to strut,” she protested. “I was simply behaving myself and following your directions.”
“Oh, hell no, you weren’t. Provocateur.” He was fortunate his brain was still in his head, let alone functioning.
“You liked it,” she said.
“I think you’re forgetting who the Dom is.”
“Definitely you, Sir. Yep. No doubt.”
He sucked in a breath as he bared her ass.
“You’re not really going to spank me.”
“No?”
“People will see.”
“Not likely. No one is living in the State Street Plaza, but even if they were, your precarious position is shielded by the tablecloth.” He stroked her pussy. “You weren’t kidding about being wet,” he said. Then he jostled her forward.
“What if someone from the restaurant walks in?”
“If you scream, no doubt they will.”
“You’re willing to take that risk?” she asked breathlessly.
“Most definitely.” He rubbed her ass more than he normally would. He intended to play with her more at home, so he wanted to limit this bruising, but he still intended it to hurt.
Kennedy brought his hand down hard.
“Fuck,” she said around a gasp. “Sir! I thought this was going to be a tease.”
He spanked her again, and she stuffed a hand into her mouth. “Good,” he said. Then he delivered a third and fourth in quick succession.
She squirmed to try to avoid him.
He slid two fingers into her pussy. “How does that feel with the plug?”
“Dunno,” she said. “I can’t think.”
Regardless, his in and out movement seemed to settle her down.
When she locked her knees, as if an orgasm loomed nearby, he pulled out.
She swore.
Quickly he walloped each of her upper thighs in turn.
“Damn, damn, damn!”
He wanted it that she couldn’t move without thinking of him.
The longer he spanked her, the harder his cock became. No doubt he’d caused an issue for both of them. “How many more, Zee?”
“Two, Sir?”
He gave her the first and she choked back a sob, but he smelled the sharp scent of her arousal.
Her body shook.
He clamped a hand around her waist and held her for a minute. Then she used her fingertips on the carpet for leverage as she moved herself back into position.
“I’ve never been with a more diligent sub.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Instead of saying she was ready, she simply waited.
And when it struck her full-force, she let out a small oomph.
He played with her pussy until she began to moan. She was wailing before he pulled back. Then he straightened her and helped her to sit up.
This time, without being told, she snuggled into his chest. Yeah. They were going to have a relationship, a serious one, without her realizing it had happened.
“I’m onto you,” she said as she was fighting to bring her breathing under control.
“Are you?”
“When I was a kid, I had a stuffed animal. Miss Kitty. I snuggled it, too.”
“Lucky kitty.” He feathered wild locks of hair back from her cheekbones.
A minute later, she exhaled a deep breath. “If it was your intention that I not be able to sit comfortably, you succeeded.”
She stood, and he did, too. She gave a wan smile as she ran her fingers through her unruly hair. In this light, he saw the red highlights, and he noted how they suited her personality.
He held the chair for her.
“You’re giving me the view?” she asked as he scooted her in.
“You get to look out the window. But I have the best view.”
“You have a way with words, Master Aldrich. No wonder half the eligible female population wants to be with you.”
“Slight exaggeration,” he said, seating himself. “And I’m only interested in one.”
“I’m not playing any games,” she said. “I really, really am happily single.”
“And your confidence is a lot of your appeal. By the way, how does the plug feel?”
“I wish the chairs were padded.”
“Glad they’re not,” he countered.
“I don’t suppose you’d let me take off the nipple jewelry.”
“Be glad I am not asking to see them.”
She shifted. If he’d ever enjoyed an evening out more, he didn’t recall it.
The sommelier entered with the bottle of wine and presented it to Kennedy.
“The Sancerre sauvignon blanc?”
“Yes, Mr. Aldrich. The Sancerre sauvignon blanc.” The sommelier put the accent in a slightly different place. “Think of it this way, it rhymes affair.”
“If it were pronounced oh-fair,” Kennedy replied.
“Now you’re getting it,” Nicoli approved.
“I’m never again eating anything that doesn’t go with a Malbec.”
Mackenzie laughed.
Nicoli uncorked the bottle as he said, “If you prefer a Malbec, I’ll bring one. Wine should be enjoyed. It doesn’t have to be paired with a food.”
“Swirl, sniff, sip,” Nicoli instructed, giving her a quick lesson.
She leaned forward, seemingly eager to learn. Kennedy relaxed back, propping his ankle on his opposite knee, enjoying her, knowing she was aware of the metal plug. He could see the faint outline of the hearts on her nipples, and even though they were jewelry more than clamps, after so long, she had to be feeling the pinch.
“It should have nice legs,” Nicoli said.
“He’s talking about the wine,” Kennedy supplied helpfully.
Nicoli raised his hands in the international gesture for surrender. “He’s a heathen,” Nicoli confided in Mackenzie. “Don’t believe anything else about him.”
Mackenzie looked at him over the rim of the glass and mouthed, “Pervert.”
The shared moment, even with someone else in the room, made heat pour through his gut. This was something he’d never had with another woman.
“It should slowly drip down the inside,” Nicoli added.
“Again, he means the wine,” Kennedy said.
“Take a good sniff.”
She did.
“Does anything stand out?”
“I could be imagining it.” She frowned and looked at Nicoli. “Lime?”
He nodded and grinned, as if she were a star pupil.
“Apple?” she asked.
“Correct, again.”
As for Kennedy, he was enjoying the show. In future, he’d never choose the wine.
“Next you’ll use your tongue. For the wine,” Nicoli continued, shooting Kennedy a dark look that warned him to keep his thoughts to himself. “Let it move around your tongue to explore the flavors. Then swallow to see if it lingers.”
“If you like it, we’ll keep it.”
She took a sip, held it on her tongue then, looking at him, swallowed. “Definitely a keeper,” she said.
“Overall, mademoiselle, you should be looking for something deep and complex,” Nicoli told Mackenzie with a smile.
“In the wine. In the wine,” Kennedy added.
This time, Nicoli smiled.
The man filled both of their glasses, wished them a very good meal then left.
“I liked him,” she said.
“And the wine?”
“The Sancerre sauvignon blanc? Fabulous.”
She’d even pronounced it correctly. He raised his glass to her.
“No menus?” she asked as she settled back with her wine.
“Whatever the lady desires,” he said.
“Seriously?”
“I ordered ahead on the lobster tail and the chocolate cake. You can allow the chef to choose accompaniments or have whatever you’d like.”
“Chef’s choice,” she said.
When the waiter arrived, Kennedy ordered for both of them.
In two minutes, they were alone again.
“The State Street Plaza really is sensational. The photos, the artist’s renderings are fabulous, but there’s something…”
He waited.
“Awe-inspiring about it. Not just the vastness, the height, but the swirling dimension, the way it’s lit.”
She got it. It was designed to boldly reach into the future while, across the street, the Old Bronwyn Building guarded the past. Not everyone saw that. Even some architects criticized it for being overly ambitious or unnecessary. One critic had even called it ‘a gaudy mash-up of bad taste and misguided hubris’. That had stung.
“I’ll give you a tour.”
Her eyes went wide. “Will you?”
“We’ll be restricted as to where we can go, and you’ll have to wear a hardhat.”
She nodded. “But I get to see that chandelier?”
“Chandeliers should qualify as art,” he said.
“That one certainly does. The picture was stunning. Like a wave.”
“And you’ll want to look at the plans for the spa and fitness facility,” he said. “So you can better tailor your presentation to my HR team.”
She had been raising her glass to her mouth, but she stopped. Mouth open, she put the glass down. He noticed the liquid was sloshing.
“Are you serious? You looked at my email? You liked it?”
“Yes. And I did. We’ll set up a time for you to come in next week.”
She took a sip, as if practicing her calm look. “Is this…? I mean… We’re…”
He waited. When she didn’t finish, he did. “This has nothing to do with the fact you’re the world’s greatest submissive.”
She gave a half smile.
“It’s solid. I wouldn’t make this offer to any woman I was fucking. My job as CEO is to run the business in an effective manner and make decisions that benefit Aldrich Enterprises. I don’t make decisions with my dick.”
“That was blunt.”
“And honest.”
The waiter brought in salads and added fresh ground pepper to each before promising to check back soon.
Kennedy topped off their glasses before they started to eat.
“Thank you,” she said, picking up a fork. “I didn’t mean to imply that you only agreed because we’ve had sex.”
“Of course you did,” he contradicted. “You wouldn’t have hesitated if you hadn’t meant it.”
She spent a long time concentrating on her salad, cutting the greens so many times it was a wonder anything was left.
“I say the wrong thing to you, a lot,” she mused.
He finished his salad while she continued to puree hers. “Relax,” he said. “I’m an adult. I can handle a lot.”
She took a couple of requisite bites before moving her plate to the side.
After the waiter had cleared the dishes, Kennedy said, “I noticed lots of family photos at your house. And you mentioned your step and half siblings.”
“This is probably a conversation best left until after the wine.”
“Amuse me.”
“Grab a calculator.” She held her glass by the stem. “My parents had one child.”
He held up one finger.
“You’re going to need fingers and toes,” she warned. “When she married Larry, he had three kids. They had one together, my half-sister.”
“Got it. One half, three steps.”
“My dad is on marriage number three. It would have been four, but one woman bailed before the wedding.”
“Tell me about them.”
“They have two kids, a boy and a girl. So my youngest half-sibling is twenty-some years younger than I am.”
“No generation gap in your family.”
“How’re you doing on the math?” She took a drink of her wine and waited.
“Three halves. Does wife number three have a name?”
“Brenda. She’s a love. I actually spend more time talking to her than I do to him.”
“How do they get along?”
“Brenda puts up with a lot. A lot. At least he’s not drinking anymore. And she told me the other day that he made dinner for the family. I never knew that he had any idea where the stove was.”
“And she had kids of her own, I presume?”
“Two,” she supplied.
“Okay, three halves, and five steps. Only needed two hands.”
“Well done. It gets more complicated when you factor in Dad’s second wife. She had kids and, actually, she was a really nice woman, too. So I’m in contact with her kids, still.”
“How many there?”
“Two.”
“Maybe I should have been drinking. I’m feeling like this is one of those mind bender puzzles where the answer is I am my own grandfather.”
She smiled. “Exactly.”
For a moment, he felt as if they were sharing a secret. “I think I’ve got it. Three halves. Five steps. And two ex-steps. Is that a real term?”
“I just call them step-siblings. I love them all. Mostly.
I’m divorced,” she continued. “And after those papers were signed, I promised myself I’d stay single. And I haven’t regretted that decision. I’m happy that way.” When she finished, her tone held a self-deprecating note, “My family seems to be lacking the make-a-good-relationship gene.”
“Your parents are both remarried.”
“Until today, my mother was going through another divorce.”
“And what happened there?”
“She decided she still loves Larry.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No.” She pursed her lips. “Maybe.”
“Why does it upset you?”
“I just want her to be happy. And with the issues they’ve had…”
“Is it possible to argue with someone and still care about them?”
“Leading the witness, Your Honor. I told you I’m onto you, Kennedy.”
“Answer the question, or I have ways of making you talk.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Don’t make me laugh,” she warned.
The waiter brought in lobster tails, accompanied by wilted asparagus drizzled with olive oil.
After she’d taken her first bite, she closed her eyes.
“Are you sure you’re not in love with me?” he asked. “Even a little bit?”
“Your ways are very convincing.” She took another bite. “God this is good. Succulent.” She moved aside the asparagus. “Do you know the best side dish to go with lobster tail?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Lobster tail.”
“I’ll grant you that.”
Later, when coffee was on the table and cake was on its way, he brought up the conversation again. “You’d never remarry?”
“Look at Bella and James,” she countered. “Fucked up. She never knows which way is up. She can’t make plans. She’s either crying or inviting the world to share in her joy. No one needs that.”
“You know what I think? I think if two people are committed—and it has to be equal from both parties—problems can be worked out.”
“Spoken like someone whose parents have never had a hiccup.”
He wondered about that. “I think I remember their version of the cold war more than once.” But he was going to ask his parents how they’d resolved issues. “Do you ever disagree with people at work?”
“That’s different. I’m the boss.” She raised her hands in victory. “I win.”
“You’ve never once in your life resolved a problem with someone?”
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