“Listen,” Brad said, going around the bed and opening the back door of the cab. All the blood rushed from Owen’s head when he came back around with the duffle bag. “You accidentally gave me this when I picked up the kids’ soccer equipment from you the other day.”
Owen had filled in as substitute coach for Brad earlier in the week. He felt a little sick to his stomach as he took the bag from Brad. By the look on Brad’s face, he could tell he’d opened it and had seen what was inside.
“Are you and Grace members at a club?” Brad asked.
For a long moment there was nothing but the washing machine sloshing of his pulse through his ears as his heart started beating again.
His eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”
“There’s a club about an hour and a half from here,” Brad said, hands tucked into pockets. “I figured you weren’t members since Laura and I haven’t seen you there.”
Owen had been wrong about the look he’d just seen Brad giving Grace. It wasn’t just the look of a red-blooded man looking at a beautiful woman—it was the look of a fellow Dom assessing a potential submissive. Man, he’d been away from his own kind for too long if he couldn’t recognize that look any longer.
“Grace and I haven’t played with others since we had the boys,” Owen said as calmly as he could manage while still trying to recover from the shock of thinking he’d been found out.
Brad looked at him steadily for a long moment.
“That’s a shame,” was all he said.
Owen crossed his arms and Brad added, “I went through that for a long time after the kids were born. She was mine. She’d had my children,” he added, punctuating his sentences by jabbing his finger into his chest. “I didn’t want anyone else to touch her.”
Owen nodded in agreement. He’d gone through the exact thing when Grace had the boys. They’d just never gone back to their old ways afterward.
Owen snorted a quiet laugh. “I should have known,” he said, shaking his head.
A smile spread over Brad’s face. “I thought the same damn thing when I opened that bag and realized what I was looking at.”
“If you want to come out with us one night, just let me know,” Brad said when Owen was quiet for a moment. “I can get your name on the guest list.”
The idea of being part of the scene again was enticing. They didn’t have to open their marriage back up to belong to a club where they could mingle with others like them. And the thought of playing with her in public again where everyone could watch caused a rush of power that nearly made him sway where he stood.
Regretfully he said, “We’re short on babysitters since we moved here, and Grace will absolutely not let just anyone watch the boys. Although, we’re going to have to come up with a solution soon. The walls in this old house are a little thin.”
Brad raised his eyebrows. “So…nothing since you moved here?”
Owen shook his head and the other man whistled low.
“I bet we could work something out,” Brad said, and offered his hand.
Owen shook it. “I’ll let you know.”
They talked about soccer practice and summer vacation plans for a few more minutes before they broke up the boys’ play so Brad could get home.
Owen stood in the driveway looking at the back of his house for a long while, wondering if he was denying Grace something she needed. Something beyond the fact that they hadn’t played out a good, long scene in such a long time. Something more than what he could give her.
When she’d first brought him into the scene all those years ago, he’d been a wide-eyed young man who couldn’t believe there were others like him. He’d spent his entire life thinking the things he wanted to do to women were perverted. She’d introduced him to her Dominant, a woman who made what she did to bound, gagged and moaning submissives look like a beautifully choreographed dance. And she’d happily taken him under her wing and showed him everything she knew.
In the early days of their relationship, Grace had been a much sought-after professional submissive. She’d loved being on stage with her body as well as her pain and humiliation on display for sometimes dozens of people to see.
She could take and take and take. There was never a limp dick or a dry pussy in the house when she was tied to the cross, crying out with each whiplash, makeup beautifully wrecked and tears quietly streaming from her innocent blue eyes. And when they’d started doing public performances together, they were often the talk of the scene for months afterward.
They’d both played safely with others, up to and including having protected sex with their play partners, even into the early years of their marriage. But when they decided to bring children into their life, they decided together that it would be just the two of them in play and in bed from that moment forward.
She’d given up her longtime relationship with her first Dominant for him. She’d stepped away from her position in the community as a popular submissive because he’d asked her to, and she’d never once complained about it. He owed it to her to ask if she needed more. It might kill him to share, but he owed it to both of them to know if she needed that interaction with someone other than him.
He took a deep breath to stretch his constricting chest and went back into the house. He could hear the water running in the master bathroom. He checked in with the boys, who were in the family room at the front of the house playing a game that would consume them until either he or Grace pulled them away. Then he went upstairs to see if his wife was in the mood for company in the shower.
Chapter Six
Grace headed into work on a Friday morning, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. She had a date with her husband that night.
He’d refused to give her any details. He’d promised that he’d found someone reliable to watch the boys, and assured her they were going to have a great time. After the gloomy cloud that had been hovering over them since their failed anniversary celebration, she hadn’t had the strength to fight for more information. She was simply going to let go and have fun. It was going to be just the two of them. She couldn’t wait.
She stepped off the elevator, got ten feet away and stopped dead in her tracks. Someone was sitting at her desk, already busy working on her computer.
And it wasn’t just any someone. It was Stacy.
“What’s going on?”
“I have no idea,” Stacy gushed nervously. “I got here this morning and Mary from HR told me I was being assigned to Owen’s desk. I tried to ask what was going on, but she told me it was none of my business.”
Grace turned and nearly ran directly into Mary, who dealt directly with all of the administrative staff. Grace opened her mouth to protest but Mary’s hand snapped up, stopping her from saying anything.
“In my office now,” the older woman said, and turned on her heel.
“You’ve been moved to Dean Sanders’ office,” Mary said when they were in her office with the door closed. “I have been asked to notify you that you’re officially on probation for ninety days.”
Grace’s eyes bugged. “For taking two minutes out of my day to give my husband a blowjob?” she asked, her voice high pitched and incredulous. “Almost a month ago?”
Mary’s cheeks bloomed pink.
“I understand what I did was wrong. I do. Seriously, dock my check for the time if you need to, but I think much more is being made of this than needs to be.”
“Grace,” Mary started patiently, sitting at one of the chairs in front of her desk. She motioned for Grace to take the other. “First of all, you have to understand that Mr. Ziegelski has zero tolerance for anyone who takes liberties of that kind in his office.”
“I got that,” she answered dryly, sitting.
“You were moved because there was a second complaint made regarding possible insubordination toward Mr. Ziegelski.”
Grace’s mind reeled as she tried to come up with something, anything, she could have said that would be misinterpreted as insubordinate toward
Ziegelski.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who made the complaint?”
Mary gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
She shook her head, confusion and the lack of information causing her temper to rise. “Then what did I supposedly say?”
“I don’t have all the details, Grace. This went over my head and straight to the boss. He asked me to give you a verbal warning and separate you and your husband. As far as I know I’ll be able to reassign you to Owen’s office at the end of the ninety-day probation period unless Mr. Ziegelski tells me otherwise.”
Grace deflated all at once. Nothing made sense.
In every office she’d ever worked in, much more than just a blowjob happened between coworkers all the time. And no one was ever punished or put on probation before. The first time she’d pleasured her husband at the office—ever, in the entire time she’d known him—and she was ratted out and put on probation.
Worse than that, something she may or may not have said was now in question. She rarely made snide remarks about her coworkers, even to Owen. Even then she only bitched or gossiped to him when they were absolutely, without a doubt alone.
“So I’m not fired?” she asked.
“No. Grace, you’re a terrific worker. We’d hate to lose you.”
Grace snorted. “Except for Ziegelski.”
“Just lay low and let this blow over,” Mary advised.
“Nothing like having to work with my accuser,” Grace muttered.
The little head shake Mary gave Grace was nearly imperceptible.
“It wasn’t Sanders?” Grace asked.
“I really can’t say,” Mary told her, shaking her head very slowly, very obviously confirming Grace’s question.
Grace looked at her for a long moment, then gave her boss a small smile. She mouthed a silent thanks and headed toward her new station. She felt a huge amount of relief that she’d been right about Sanders not being involved. But if Sanders hadn’t gone to Ziegelski about her and Owen, who had? And why?
* * * * *
“What the fuck is your problem, Sanders?”
Before Owen could stop himself, he had Sanders pinned to the narrow strip of wall between the automatic hand dryers. Sanders registered a moment of shock, which quickly rolled into confusion. And then he was clearly pissed.
“What are you talking about?” He jerked his arms in an attempt to free himself from Owen’s grip, but Owen held tight. “Get the hell off me.”
“I thought we were friends,” Owen said quietly, teeth clenched, the tip of his nose almost touching Sander’s nose. “I had no idea you’d stoop so low as to go to Ziegelski about Grace and I. Nice show you put on, acting all insulted when I asked you not to say anything to anyone about seeing Grace’s lipstick on my cock.”
Sanders looked at him as if he’d spoken in tongues.
“Have you lost your mind? I never went to the old man about that.” He stopped struggling and put his arms down on the dryers. “Do you really think I’m the kind of guy who’d tattle about you getting a blowjob from your wife at work?” He looked at Owen with disgust.
Owen’s conviction faltered, which pissed him off further.
“Sure, we’re friends on the basketball court or in the bar on Friday night, but with a senior partner retiring next month and you and I in the running for the promotion, why wouldn’t you do something to make sure you got it over me?” Owen shrugged. “Happens all the time between friends in the corporate world, doesn’t it?”
“You really are a cocksucker.” Sanders shook his head.
“Someone went to him.” Owen was practically shouting in his face now. “Grace was removed from my office this morning.”
Sanders’ head reared back and hit the wall.
“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his skull. “What do you mean she was moved?”
“Moved,” he repeated, biting out the word. “As in someone came by and took her things to a different office. Your office. How the fuck do you not know that yet?”
Sanders threw his hands up. “I just got here,” he yelled.
“I’ve got that dipshit you’re banging who doesn’t know her ass from her ear now.”
Owen could tell he was genuinely surprised by the news.
Sanders got his hands on Owen’s chest and pushed, freeing himself.
“Exactly which dipshit are you referring to?”
“You know who I mean.” Owen crossed his arms and didn’t move out of Sanders’ way, leaving him trapped between the dryers without holding him down.
“I really don’t.” A muscle in Sanders’ jaw ticked. “You know goddamn well I’m not fucking anyone lately, so please, enlighten me to which office slut I’m supposedly shtupping so I know exactly what I’m missing.” He yelled the last words.
Owen blinked as the flame of his fury blew out.
He did know Sanders was holding out with his fiancée—a twenty-five-year-old virgin who was saving herself for marriage. He also knew how frustrating it was for the former hustler to be abstinent for as long as he had been. The guy could be an arrogant smartass, but Owen had witnessed him turning down more than one tempting intern interested in seeing his legendary cock in person. He knew the guy was in love.
“You’re not sleeping with Stacy?” he asked, feeling a little ashamed of himself for believing the rumor he was having an affair.
“God no.” Sanders looked repulsed. “I’d rather hang my dick in a pit of fire ants.”
Owen couldn’t help himself. He laughed. Sanders watched him for a second, then relented and smiled as well.
“Well, she’s telling the whole office otherwise,” Owen informed him.
They both straightened and gave each other a wide-eyed look when a toilet flushed. Neither one of them had known anyone else was in the room.
“I’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” Tim Greenburg said as he came out of the stall. “The two of you can go back to comparing dicks after I’m out of here.”
Owen looked at Sanders, who said nothing. He didn’t need to.
They turned toward Tim at the same time.
Chapter Seven
Grace checked her hair and makeup one last time, turned and gave her backside another glance to make sure it looked all right in the dress she was wearing and headed downstairs. Her husband was not in the living room waiting for her with a bottle of wine like he said he’d be. She passed through the dining room to the kitchen, but he wasn’t there either.
“Owen?”
From the basement she heard, “Down here.”
She huffed a sigh and went to the top of the stairs. “What on earth are you doing down there? We’re going to be late for our dinner reservation.”
“Come here,” he called, his voice playful. Tempting. “You need to see this.”
She touched her forehead to the doorframe, summoning a little patience. “Can it wait until after dinner? I have no idea whether this place will give our table away if we’re late or not.”
He called her down again in a singsong voice that made her shake her head and smile. She had to take the narrow stairs sideways in her heels. At the bottom she looked around the laundry room, but he was still nowhere to be found.
“In here,” he called through the open pantry door.
“What on earth,” she muttered, her heels clicking on the bare concrete.
She hadn’t been able to get in the room for three weeks because he wanted to surprise her once the room was finished. She’d thought it was strange he was making such a big deal out of a pantry, but she’d gone along with it. Letting him finish it himself meant she hadn’t had to do any more painting after all.
She stopped just outside the door.
Her first thought was that the walls were not painted the white they’d agreed on. They were a deep, royal purple instead. Electric lights in scrolled wall sconces flickered like candles. There was lush, dark carpet on the floor and medieval-looking wrought
iron rings bolted to the walls both near the ceiling and close to the floor. Chopin was playing from the iPod dock on top of the wardrobe in the corner.
And her husband was sitting on the corner of a sheet-draped, sturdy-legged table the length and width of a wide massage table with one foot on the floor and his other leg draped casually over the corner.
He was barefoot and shirtless in an old pair of jeans.
“Happy belated anniversary, baby doll,” he said. The thrill of hearing his scene name for her, in that cool, deep voice, nearly caused her knees to buckle.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” she asked dryly.
He calmly folded his hands over his thigh as he looked her over from head to toe. She shivered at the look of pure desire on his face.
“Goddamn, you look good,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
She was wearing a new dress, bought especially for their night out. It was that deep emerald green he always said was his favorite color on her. The low, square neckline showed quite a bit of the tops of her breasts, the skirt hung to her knee and the whole thing hugged her in all the right places, as though it had been designed just for her.
“You made me scrub and primer this room for this?” she asked.
She ventured a step into the room and looked around. There was a wide, thickly upholstered chair big enough for both of them just to her left. A padded sawhorse with not one, but two padded rails to kneel on and several D-rings bolted to the frame stood in the back opposite the wardrobe—which was surely full of all their toys.
“Now where the hell am I supposed to keep food when I learn to can this fall?” she asked, hands on hips. There would be no paddle if she didn’t misbehave a little. In truth, she wanted to weep with gratitude at the sight of their gorgeous new playroom.
“Because you helped in here as I asked, you’ll be rewarded.” Owen stood, pulling himself up tall and straight, looking at her down the length of his nose. “Unless you keep running that mouth of yours,” he warned.
She shivered. It had been so long. It had been way too freaking long since she’d seen the look on his face, and she wanted it more than anything else in the entire world.
Mr. Sir (Ball & Chain) Page 4