by Qwillia Rain
“I thought you might like some company with your sister gone.” Jimmy grinned and hefted the bag, oblivious to her irritation. “We could call some of my buds and have a little party.”
“At my house?” Ariel strode around the counter, shaking her head. “No way.” She gripped his shoulder and turned him toward the front entrance. “Why would I let you and those slobs you call friends into my home? I showed you the exit six months ago.”
“Come on, baby. You didn't mean it. You've gotta be lonely—”
“Don't 'baby' me.” She shoved at his back, ushered him across the room, grumbling the entire time. “If I were feeling lonely, I sure as hell wouldn't call you. Damn it, Jimmy, if I'd wanted you when we were dating, I'd've slept with you then.”
Jimmy stumbled forward under her urging and put up little resistance. His expression changed as he spotted Dane against the wall next to the door. “Are you bangin' the suit?”
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Dane shifted away from the wall. His arms dropped from where he'd crossed them over his chest. Up until that moment, the incident had only been an amusing glimpse into Ariel's behavior toward another man. Now, if he read Jimmy's expression correctly, the little scene could escalate into something unpleasant.
“It's none of your damned business, Jimmy.” Ariel shoved him closer to the door.
Jimmy swung around and planted his feet. Standing in profile, Dane could see the scowl twisting the younger man's features as he glared down at Ariel. “I'd like to know if someone else is getting a taste of what you wouldn't give me.”
“Like I would tell you? Get real.” Ariel propped her fists on her generous hips. “I didn't want you six months ago, and I still don't want you. Accept it and go away.”
Jimmy's voice became a whine. “But, Ariel—”
Ariel covered her eyes with one hand and drew in a deep breath. Wiping her hand down her face, she pointed toward the door with one hand and pushed at his shoulder with the other.
“Just accept it's over, Jimmy, and go. I don't want to party. I don't want to talk. I. Don't. Want.
You.”
The tension in Dane's body eased. The slump of Jimmy's shoulders and the sullen pout on his face as he turned toward the door were all the indication necessary for Dane to know Jimmy would pose no threat, intoxicated as he was, to himself or Ariel.
“You're an icy bitch, Ariel,” Jimmy muttered as he headed toward the door Dane held open for him.
“Yeah. And you're a spineless prick,” Ariel shot back as she turned away and walked back to the rag she'd left on the counter.
There was a moment when Dane wasn't sure if he'd have to assist Jimmy in exiting or if the man would leave on his own. It passed, and with more grumbled curses in the vein of sour grapes, Jimmy strode out of the café and headed toward a green sedan parked on the street out front.
After twisting the lock on the door, Dane ambled back to the stool he'd occupied before Jimmy showed up. Perhaps now would be a good time to lay the groundwork for the idea he'd mulled over since he walked in on her in the office the previous morning.
“So that's your ex?”
Ariel didn't respond but sent him a fulminating look. Dane didn't let his grin slip free; instead he continued to seek more clues about the vixen before him.
“You broke it off?”
“Yes.”
“He seems like a…colorful character,” Dane prompted.
“You mean the tats?” Ariel paused and met his gaze.
“Yes. He doesn't seem like the kind of person you'd be drawn to.”
“Are you wondering how I met him?” Ariel grinned. She propped her forearms on the counter and leaned toward him.
The sight of her breasts momentarily drew his attention. It was hard for him not to look, but he pulled his gaze from the sweet, creamy cleavage exposed by her teal tank top. “Yes, I have to wonder. I've never seen him patronizing the café.”
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Ariel bobbed her eyebrows. The grin on her full lips grew wide and wicked. “He's a tattoo artist. I met him when I was leaving the Ink Well.”
“The tattoo parlor on Hillcrest?” His mind spun with the image of some kind of art decorating a patch of her ivory flesh. His body responded to the fantasy of investigating every inch of her skin to find the inked design. And perhaps commanding her to permanently etch his brand onto her body.
“Yup. Grieg does some great work.”
Dane nodded and shifted his position on the seat to ease the ache in his groin. “I've seen some of his art. In fact, he did some graphic-design work for the consulting business Logan and I own.” He didn't mention the kanji characters marking the insides of both his wrists. He'd wait to see if she asked about them; he knew she had seen them the third day he'd come into the café.
“Were you there looking into getting a tattoo?”
“No, Grieg was finishing up the work on mine when Jimmy showed up.”
Dane trailed his gaze from her face to her waist, where the counter cut off his view. “You have ink? Where?”
She winked at him and grinned. “I'll never tell.” Her gaze dropped to his exposed wrists.
“Grieg did yours?”
“Yes. So Jimmy works for Grieg?” He wouldn't push to find out what her tattoo was. Not yet. The where he was sure to learn soon…
Ariel nodded and pushed away from the counter. “He seemed pretty cool when I first met him, but it got boring after a while.”
“What got boring?”
“All he was interested in was getting drunk and sex. Usually at the same time.” Ariel chuckled. “Not my idea of fun.”
“Have all your boyfriends been like Jimmy?”
She carefully folded the rag and set it on the tiled counter. Ariel tilted her head to the side as if trying to identify some verbal trap awaiting her. “What do you mean 'like Jimmy'?”
“I mean men who let you make all the decisions and direct what will or won't happen?
Who don't argue with you about the direction of the relationship?” He didn't have to hear her response to know the answer was yes. The way her body stiffened and her shoulders went back told him what he suspected was true.
“So I'm not a doormat to every man who comes along.” She sounded almost defensive.
“Do you have a problem with strong women?”
“No, I feel every person—man or woman—has the right to stand up for themselves. In a relationship, those involved should be full partners, with neither one assuming full control.”
Ariel tossed the cloth into the bin of towels to go in the laundry. “That sounds pretty strange coming from you.”
Dane shrugged and folded his arms on the counter. “Why? Do you think because I'm a man I expect the women I'm involved with to do whatever I say?”
“Well, yeah.” Ariel propped her forearms on the counter and leaned toward him again. “I mean, you are a dominant, and you train other men to be dominants as well.”
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“Yes, I'm a dominant, but it doesn't mean I don't respect a person's right to refuse a request, Ariel.” He motioned toward her. “You seem to be under the impression that you have what it takes to be a Domme, considering how easily you control the men in your life.”
She pushed away from the counter and glared at him. “Now wait a minute. I never said I was a Domme.”
“But you never let anyone take charge.”
“Alayna—”
“Is the financial manager of Valerian's Root. She freely admits you're the culinary genius, and she doesn't begrudge you that distinction,” Dane assured her.
“I know that, but you're making it seem—”
“I'm only telling you what I've observed.” He waited for her to take the bait. Since he'd learned in the last week how prickly she was about being in charge, Dane decided it wasn't likely she'd pass up the challenge he was contemplating.
“And you think, based on what little you've seen, that I'm a Domme?”
There's the first nibble. Don't try to set the hook yet. Dane shook his head. “No, I said you're under the impression you've got what it takes to be a Domme.”
“You don't think I have the ability?”
Almost there. He shrugged. “It's possible, with the right amount of training and the right submissive, you could pull it off—”
“But you don't think I can, huh?”
Another nibble, this time a little harder. The light of battle brightened her eyes, the flush on her cheeks identified her increased irritation, and the jut of her stiff nipples against the teal tank top betrayed how aroused she was at his challenge. Patience. Let her get closer. Dane shrugged again. “I'm only giving you my opinion.”
“And it's bullshit,” Ariel snapped. She rounded the counter and stepped in front of him. “If I wanted to become a dominatrix, I could do it like that.” She snapped her fingers near his face and glared at him.
“With the boys you've selected as lovers, that's not in question.” Dane nodded. Come on, Tinker Bell. Get pissed.
“Boys? You think I can't take on a man?”
A little more. “Some men, perhaps—”
“But not a real man? You mean like you?” Her disparaging tone seemed to imply her doubt in his masculinity.
“I mean you seem to think you'll find more satisfaction in giving directions than in taking them.” Dane kept his body as still as possible, predator to her prey, not stirring, waiting for the trap she approached to spring so he could pounce.
If there was one thing he had grown to appreciate, it was the varied facial expressions that betrayed her moods and reactions. The rolling of her eyes at his words only reinforced his belief that she would step into the cage he was constructing without even being aware of the danger.
After watching her attempts to pleasure herself the day before, Dane had imagined innumerable scenarios that would allow him to push her beyond the constricted boundaries she kept on her sexuality. From what he knew about her and her sister's past, it didn't surprise him 44
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that Ariel—though more outwardly flamboyant than her sister—carried the same tight control on her body as Alayna did. Yesterday's performance confirmed the suspicion he had that Ariel dealt with the same difficulty to climax as her sister. A few more steps and he'd have her in a situation that would give him the answers to the questions that swirled in his mind.
“Excuse me?” She stepped closer. “Would you mind repeating that?”
“I said you seem to think you'll find more satisfaction in giving directions rather than taking them.” Dane shifted. Even with him seated, the top of Ariel's head barely reached his chin.
“Damn straight I do.” She smirked up at him. “When it comes to orgasms, I know what to do and when to do it, and I'm not afraid to make sure my men know that.”
Another tug on the bait. “Ah”—Dane nodded—“but have you ever let someone else take the lead?”
She shook her head. “No, why should I, when I do just fine on my own?”
Liar. “I understand if you're afraid—”
Arms crossed over her breasts, she spluttered, “Afraid?”
“It's nothing to be ashamed of, Ariel.” He injected what he hoped was the right note of condescension in his voice. “I've dealt with any number of clients whose fears have—”
“I'm not afraid. Why should I be?” She waved off his explanation.
“You don't think a man can bring you to climax if he's the one in control.” Dane eased closer to the edge of his seat, careful not to startle Ariel into withdrawal.
“If I'm anything, it's skeptical of some guy who thinks he knows my body better than I do.”
“Are you sure you're not the least bit scared—”
“No. There isn't a man I'd be afraid to face to prove who's better at my sexual satisfaction.”
“Even me?”
“Especially you.” Ariel snorted. “In fact, you'd make an excellent pet once I got you broken in right.”
Snap. Hook set; fish on! “Prove it.” Dane watched the confidence flare in her eyes and then submerge beneath disbelief as she seemed to realize what she'd set herself up for. Before she could wheedle her way out of the challenge, he grinned.
Her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips. “How?”
Dane stayed seated, despite the urge to rise to his feet. Any attempt to tower over her would only irritate her; he'd learned that much in the last week. “There are three weeks left before your sister returns from the mansion.”
“I know.”
“I suggest we run a little experiment to see who's better at satisfying you sexually.”
Her throat flexed as she swallowed, but her gaze stayed focused on him. “Sounds interesting.”
Dane couldn't stop the grin her response brought to his lips. She was determined to hide the panic he could read in her eyes. The rapid pulse visible in the skin at the base of her throat was also a dead giveaway. “You seem so convinced your directions bring you the greatest satisfaction, but I think you might find more fulfillment in being directed.”
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“What do you have in mind? Both of us taking turns?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He motioned toward the kitchen. “I freely admit your superiority in the kitchen. And I think you would have to admit my skills with the paperwork and financial organization are exceptional.”
Suspicion darkened her green eyes. “To a certain extent, yes, I admit you know what you're doing in the office.”
“Then I submit we agree to allow each other control in our respective arenas,” Dane offered.
“Are you suggesting we carry out your experiment here? In Valerian's Root?”
Dane nodded. “I'm the boss in the office—”
“And I'm the boss in the kitchen?”
“Exactly.”
She seemed to mull over the suggestion. Looking around at the darkened café, Ariel motioned to the empty tables. “And here, in the main dining area, who's the boss out here?”
“No one. This would be neutral territory. Ground available for open discussion and requests from either party to test one another with a specific task or action.” He'd been careful to consider all possibilities. “And right of refusal is allowed in this area only.”
She stiffened and took a half step back. “Are you saying refusal isn't allowed anywhere else?”
“That's correct. Right of refusal is not permitted in the kitchen or office, unless what is being asked is likely to cause physical harm to someone.”
“But no sex, right?” Ariel clarified.
Dane shook his head. “Oh there'll be sex, Ariel. How else are we to determine which makes your orgasms more intense?” Rising from the chair, he crowded her up against the counter, making sure the thick length of his aroused cock pressed into her soft belly. “It's essential we discover if manual stimulation, the use of toys, or a hard cock riding you creates the best results.”
“But—” Her expression was a mixture of arousal and confusion. Reactions conflicted with yearning in her bright green gaze. Color flooded her cheeks. Her fingers clutched the counter behind her as if she didn't trust herself to touch him or fought to hold herself away from temptation.
Dane chose to intentionally misunderstand her protest. “Oh yes, let's not forget this sweet, round ass.” He slid one hand down to cup her bottom. “We'll find the right plug to get you stretched out, and then we'll see how you respond to anal play.”
As close as he was to her, he felt the shudder ripple through her body. He doubted she even realized her hips pushed upward, rubbing against him. It took all his control not to rock forward and press his dick closer. There'd be time enough over the next three weeks to discover how hot, wet, and tight her pussy would feel around him, but right now he merely needed her to agree to his rules.
/> “I didn't mean—” Ariel's hands released the lip of the counter to press at his chest. “Okay, uhmm…” Her fingers splayed over his upper chest and began to stroke instead of push, stirring the heat and excitement building inside him.
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“Okay?” He leaned closer, bending his knees slightly to meet her gaze directly, but more importantly to realign his body with hers. In no way would he give up on the advantage he currently held with her body aroused by his close proximity. “You agree?”
Her expression was a mixture of reluctance and awakened desire, but she nodded. “Yes. I-I agree.”
Fighting the protests of his body, Dane stepped back. “Good. Now shall we go?”
“Go? Go where?”
Dane held up the bank deposit bag. “The bank. I want to get this dropped off before I head home. There's a Red Sox game on, and I don't want to miss it.”
“But—I—What about—”
Dane suppressed the urge to laugh. Her confusion only made the challenge more interesting. “But what?”
Ariel drew a deep breath and shook her head. “Never mind.”
Ah this is going to be fun. Dane led Ariel out the door, his smile of satisfaction carefully hidden from her.
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Chapter Five
Day 9
Dane hadn't even made it into the office before she ambushed him the next day. Ariel blocked the hallway, fists perched on her hips. One foot tapped the floor as if measuring off the time before she struck. “You completely ignored my order.”
Conversation and eating stopped as the few customers in the dining room turned their attention toward Dane and the blue-haired harpy he faced.
Her neatly buttoned chef's coat hid the impressive bosom that had featured prominently in his dreams the night before.
A soft snicker of amusement came from the register, where Sadie collected payment from a customer.
This on top of the shit Logan was pulling at the mansion made Dane wonder for a moment how much he wanted Ariel. But the slow hardening of his body functioned as a visceral reminder of what had prompted his plan in the first place. His tone cool, he told her, “I haven't set foot in your kitchen in days, Ariel, so there've been no orders for me to ignore.”