by Sophie Oak
Was he wrong about the husband?
She flushed slightly. “No, I’m not, but I have a friend who is. I wouldn’t ask, but it’s kind of important. Uhm, you’re strictly working for Julian on this case, right?”
“I rarely work for outside clients. Occasionally I’ll take a case if it interests me.”
“Let’s say you found something against Natalie in this case.”
Ah. Now he understood. “I would feel absolutely no obligation to law enforcement. I would submit my findings to Julian, but no one else. I took a look at the guy. He was dirty. I don’t have proof, but my instincts aren’t usually wrong about assholes. Even dead he gave off a vibe. So, if I find out Ms. Buchanan killed him and had good reasons, I likely would bury the evidence so deep no one could convict her.”
She took a long breath. “Good. Look, Nat didn’t kill him. She told me what happened and I believe her. But she’s found this whole episode a bit unsettling. She needs some help.”
Revelation dawned. “And she’s a sub.”
She needed to scene. She needed to relax.
Gaby nodded. “My husband is with her. We both agree that it might be easier on her if she scenes with someone who doesn’t work here. Do you know her background?”
Quite well. “She hasn’t taken a Dom since the incident?”
The incident had been months of hell. He knew damn well he was understating it.
“No. This is the first time she’s wanted to try.”
“And she doesn’t want to try with someone she knows.” He could understand that. If it all went to hell, she didn’t want to look at her coworker every day.
“I don’t trust the visiting Doms. I don’t know them except by reputation,” Gaby replied. “Julian trusts you and your brother. She needs this. Can you help her and still work the case? I would honestly tell her to wait for someone who won’t be involved, but I’m afraid she’ll back out. This is a huge step for her.”
She was being brave. He could respect that. He looked across the dungeon. “Is that her? With the pink hair?”
He would bet on it. She was the only woman in the dungeon with a chip on her shoulder that he could probably see from space. She stood talking to a dark-haired man, her shoulders somewhere around her ears. He could feel her anxiety from here. Pink hair. Like cotton candy.
Yeah, that wasn’t boring.
“Yes. That’s Nat. She doesn’t want to know your name, by the way. She just looked over and said you would do. I would be standing here telling you to get lost if Julian hadn’t said you were okay.”
Because Nat meant something to her. And she hadn’t come looking for him. “But you wanted Ben.”
She shrugged. “Julian thought Ben would be gentler.”
Chase felt a little like growling, but it would just reinforce the idea that Ben was the nice one. Fuck. Ben was the nice one, but sweetness over there needed a little tart to go with her sugar. “Sometimes gentle isn’t the way to go. I’ll take care of her. Your husband can watch. We’ll keep it public. Sex?”
Gaby shrugged. “Up to her, but I wouldn’t bet on it. Don’t get me wrong. I would cheer if she took a lover.”
Because little Natalie hadn’t had a lover since her abuse. She turned, her eyes telling him everything. She was so damn scared. She was dressed modestly for the dungeon in a short skirt and a tank top. No shoes. Subs had the choice. Stilettos or nothing. She liked comfort, but those legs would look longer in a pair of nasty fuck-me heels. Louboutins. He would buy her a pair. Black, sleek, modest, but he would see the red soles when he spread her legs wide and propped her ankles on his shoulders so he could drive his cock deep.
Those red soles would be for him and Ben.
“You’ll do, Mr. Dawson.” Gaby Reed had an odd look of approval on her face.
Chase had the feeling that he’d given something away. “Why?”
“Because I know that look. You’re interested. I also know something you don’t yet.”
“And what is that?”
“That once you get a taste of her, you won’t be able to stop. You’ll protect her.”
Which just proved she didn’t know a thing. “I doubt it. I’m going to be brutally honest with you. I’m not the one who keeps a woman. Ben is the better choice if you want a permanent Dom for her. I just like to spank a pretty sub, fuck her senseless, and send her on her way.”
“Only because you haven’t met the right one. I’ve figured out a few things about you, too. You don’t like to be bored. You like a challenge. My Nat will challenge you forever if you’re smart enough to really see her.” She took a long breath. “So will you help us?”
He really did love a challenge. Natalie stood out. Her bristly outward demeanor couldn’t cover her vulnerability. Not from him. She needed. She ached for it.
So did he.
“I’ll do it.” Chase pushed off the wall and started toward her, his blood already thrumming through his veins.
* * * *
Nat had to take one righteous breath as the ungodly gorgeous man started walking toward her. She’d kind of picked him because she was sure he’d take one look at her and run. She wasn’t in his league. She didn’t have great boobs like a lot of the women here. Hers were kind of small, and her ass was really round no matter how much she dieted. She was well aware that her riot of pink hair was something a sixteen-year-old would sport, not someone rapidly approaching thirty, and she wasn’t wearing anywhere close to enough makeup. Her heart started pounding because this was stupid. She shouldn’t be here.
“Calm down right this second, Nat.” Cal’s deep tone was hard edged and struck a chord. He never used that voice with her. He was always careful and calm and quiet, and she found it deeply easy to ignore him. She couldn’t ignore him now.
“This is a terrible idea.” What the hell had she been thinking? The Dom who was prowling toward her—there was no other word for it—why couldn’t the dude just walk, but no, he kind of strode with the grace of a panther stalking his meal—was so far out of her league it was ridiculous. He was at least six foot four with dark hair shot through with a golden color that made him look like all her Ken doll fantasies come to life. He was just as perfect as that legendary doll but with a G.I. Joe masculinity that actually made her pussy clench. What the fuck was up with that?
She wasn’t going there. Nope. She wasn’t sure why Mr. Gorgeous was walking toward her, but she was going to be the one who got away. And hid. And peeked out of her hiding place because oh, holy moly and all kinds of religious imagery, that was a chest to die for.
“Nat.” Cal bit her name, and when she looked up at him, he had an unholy look on his face that just for a minute made her want to sink to her knees.
She looked around. It was like little splashes of color were coming back when her world had been black and white forever. “Sorry.”
She didn’t want to let go of that hint of color. Yes, she was scared and, yes, she’d made a dumb mistake targeting Mr. Perfect, but she could start over. She remembered how to manipulate a Dom. It was all there. Her mom had been the master. It was all in the eyes, she would say. Make them big and round and soft and then match your words, sweetie.
She hadn’t thought about that for years now. Her mom had sat her down before she’d gone to her first club and given her a whole list of ways to manipulate big bad Doms.
She looked up at Cal, allowing her lower lip to quiver just the tiniest bit. “I think this is a bad idea, Sir.”
His eyes narrowed. “God, I always knew you would be a righteous brat if you just let it out. Use that pout on Dawson here and see where it gets you.” He softened slightly. “You have a safe word, Nat. Do you want to use it now?”
And Callum Reed seemed to have taken the Dom’s course on manipulating bratastic subs. She knew exactly what he was doing, and her back still came up to meet the challenge.
“They’ve been coddling you too long, Natalie. This is what you respond to. This is what you need.” Ca
l put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “You’re still in control, probably much more so than if you’d been left alone tonight.”
Because if she’d been alone, her fear, her issues would have been in control. She would have done it. She would have cut herself. She wouldn’t have been able to resist. She would have been right back in that frying pan.
“Hello, Cotton Candy.”
She looked up. And up. And up. Gosh, he was big. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. “Hello.”
He didn’t smile at all. His face was hard and perfect, with high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted lips. His eyes were blue, but there was a bit of coldness there. “You can call me Sir.”
She nodded.
“Your boss tells me you require discipline.”
He was a hard-ass Dom. Just the edge to his voice made her want to back away. There was no emotion there, no connection. When she’d looked across the room, she’d felt a spark at the sight of him, a tiny connection that she could stoke into something warm. But he was an illusion, a beautiful version of the Doms she’d known before. Cold. Hard. Unyielding.
Nat shook her head, revelation overtaking her. She didn’t require discipline. She required connection, even if only for a night.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I made a mistake.” She turned to Cal. “I’ll do whatever you feel is best to get through the night. If you want to find me a babysitter, I’ll do it.”
Cal’s whole face turned down, his mouth frowning, eyes steady but sad. “All right, Natalie.”
Gorgeous Dom didn’t change at all. The same blank expression stayed on his face. He simply stood and waited.
“I’ll go tell Gaby. I’ll hand over the dungeon to Kevin for the night.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s going to be okay. Dawson, we’ll see you tomorrow.” Cal nodded her way and then went off to find his wife.
And she was left alone with the most gloriously beautiful, coldest man she’d ever stared up at. Not the coldest. Hawk took that prize, but only because she knew what he looked like when he held a knife to a woman’s throat and started to slice into her with all the emotion of a man slicing a piece of cheese.
“Hey, are you all right? You just went pale.”
Because she was thinking about it again. Because standing in the dungeon brought back her worst memories. Tears pricked at her eyes.
“Hey, Cotton Candy. Don’t cry. I won’t touch you. I promise.” The first crack appeared in that perfect face. “I won’t let anyone else touch you, either.”
The last bit was said with a little growl that did hot things to her girl parts. Frustration welled. She wanted and she couldn’t seem to let herself have.
His face was a careful blank as he turned and leaned against the wall. “I’ll just stay here until they come back for you. Unless you don’t want me to stand next to you.”
He didn’t look at her, his arctic eyes on the dungeon. He stared at a skinny Domme enthusiastically whipping her big male sub. The male howled, a shockingly high sound coming out of that masculine mouth.
And the Dom smiled, his lips curling up and showing the promise of dimples.
She stepped in front of him, that weird connection she’d felt flaring back to life. “Smile for me.”
A single eyebrow arched over his frosty eyes.
Once a Dom… She softened her request. “Please, Sir.”
“You’re afraid of me.” It wasn’t a question. It was a flat statement of fact.
She knew Cal and Gaby well enough that there was no way this guy didn’t know a bit of her history. Dawson. She wondered if that was his first name or his last name. She’d told Gaby she wanted to know as little as possible about this guy, but now she wondered. And she remembered the first rule of any D/s play. Honesty. “I was abused by a man who never smiled.”
His eyes warmed, but his lips didn’t move. “Then say something smart and bratty because you can’t expect me to smile after hearing that. I’ll be honest, Cotton Candy, I’m not a big smiler. My brother is the one who smiles.”
“Why don’t you smile?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just how I was born. So where’s the dragon tattoo?”
Now she was the one smiling. Smart-mouthed bastard. Yeah, that was kind of sexy. “Hey, I was fucked up before it was cool. This is my fourth hair color this year. I was bright yellow two months ago, but someone called me Big Bird.”
His hand came up, just barely touching her hair. “I like Cotton Candy better.”
“Yeah, don’t expect sweet.”
There it was, that hint of a smile that made her want more. “I think you could be very sweet if someone handled you the right way.”
“What if I don’t want to be handled?” The question came out on a flirty huff. God, was that really her voice? Was she really flirting with this Dom like she could handle him?
The smile deepened, bringing out ridiculously sexy dimples. “Oh, you want to be handled, sweets.”
She kind of did. But she was still a little afraid. “I don’t think I could stand to be tied down.”
“How about a male hand on your body? Could you handle that? No ropes. No cuffs. But I would have to put hands on you, and not in that ‘I’m your dad’ way the other guy did.”
Honesty. Lots of honesty. “I don’t know how I would handle it. I know I didn’t like the thought of you servicing me. When you walked up, it felt like I was hiring you or something. I didn’t like that.”
He very softly brought the pad of his index finger to brush her nose. “Picky sub.”
“I know what it feels like to be used. I don’t want to use you.”
“We all use people. It comes down to how we use them and whether or not they’re okay with being used. How are you going to get what you need if you don’t use someone?”
“It feels wrong.”
“Are you being honest with me about what you want? Is this a plot to trick me into marrying you?”
She rolled her eyes. “No.”
“Then we’re good, sub. You want to play a little in a safe environment with someone who’ll give you some space. I’m cool with that.”
“What do you get out of it?”
“Ah, you’re a clean slate girl. Well, sweetness, what I get out of it is the sight of what I think is going to be a spectacular ass. And when I turn in later, I’ll have something to masturbate to.”
She felt her eyes flare. Well, there was honesty for her. “I somehow think you could find someone for the night.”
He grimaced. “It would be harder than you think. Not a lot of women appreciate my sparkling personality. And besides, I think I’m going to be faithful for the night. I doubt you’ll let me have you, so I’ll pretend.”
The idea of him lying in bed, his hand on his cock while he thought about her, made her breath catch. And still she had to push. “Why me?”
He was silent for a moment as though deciding just how honest he should be. “Because you’re vibrant and different and you’ve muted your glow, but I think you could light up this room if you let go. So I would be using you a little, too. I don’t do many good things. I’m basically selfish. Maybe I want to feel good about myself for once.”
She wasn’t giving him credit. She was judging him the way she expected to be judged, on the outside without a single thought to what was happening inside. She’d looked at his gorgeous body and expected him to not have a soul, much less one as screwed over as hers.
“We could try. You could try to touch me.” She could handle that surely.
“Why don’t you touch me instead?”
He was wearing black leathers, pants and a vest over his bare chest. The leathers rode low on sculpted hips. How long had it been since she touched a man for her pleasure? He stood there, his hands at his sides, but she hesitated.
“He screwed you up, sweetness. What you had with him wasn’t D/s, it was assault. D/s is always consensual. If it isn’t, then it’s a crime being perpetrated on someone. What’s a Dom to y
our mind? Just give me the first three words you think of. Don’t hesitate.”
“Fuckwad, asshole, my dad.” God, she was so fucked up. It was all a horrible jumble in her brain. “I love my dad. That sounded weird. My dad and mom are lifestylers. They’re a happy D/s couple. I used to think it was horrible because other moms baked cookies and mine made chainmail corsets, but she’s the sweetest woman in the world and my dad is so great.” And she hadn’t been home in forever because it hurt to watch them.
“You need some retraining,” he murmured. “A Dom gives. Touch me. I won’t bite unless you ask me to. But really, my bite is quite nice. Be brave. Touch me. If you want to enjoy the lifestyle again, you have to take the step to trust someone. You’re not trusting me in this case. You don’t know me. But Julian Lodge does. And your bosses are watching right now. Trust them.”
Her eyes slid to where Cal and Gaby stood like nervous parents waiting for their toddler to walk but afraid to help.
Nothing could happen to her here. She was safe in the dungeon. Cal and Gaby watched. Gretchen sat nearby with one of the Doms, a very nice man named Tate. There were three dungeon monitors who checked everyone coming in and going out.
She let her fingers skim the warm flesh of his chest. He might look like he was sculpted from marble, but that skin was soft and hot. She watched as his muscles rippled under her palm. Arousal hummed through her. She wouldn’t do anything about it, but it felt good to know her parts still worked. She leaned in just a little and let his scent wash over her. Masculine and spicy, with just the slightest hint of his own arousal.
Power. This was what she’d missed all these long and lonely years. She’d missed the power of submission, to lose herself in the moment, to watch the big bad Dom’s muscles quiver because he was trying to maintain control.
She placed a palm flat on his chest. His heart beat right under her hand, an intimate rhythm she hadn’t felt in forever.
His eyes stayed on her. They weren’t arctic any longer. They mellowed to a sky blue and held her own. She knew what he was doing. He was taking in every aspect of her, watching for signs of arousal or fear or pain. Measuring her breathing and the way her hands trembled.