“It’s too cold for that!”
“I’m unhinged in here,” he mocked. “Don’t you want to fix me?”
“I don’t need to go skinny dipping with you to be an effective companion.”
“If you come in, I’ll answer three questions.”
“Any questions?”
“A few subjects are off limits. I’ll let you know if you stumble across one of those.”
Fuck. She was drunk. She knew she was drunk. But he was so hot and naked and bossy, and he wanted her in the water. Rather than strip naked, she kicked off her boots and peeled off her top and jeans, but left on her bra and panties.
A low rumble of sound that turned out to be Severin chuckling filled the clearing and tripped along the glass-smooth surface of the lake. Tentatively, she touched her toe to the water, and his eyes took on a wicked gleam as she shuddered.
“It’s too cold,” she complained.
“Get in the fucking water, Minnow.”
Crap. He never said her given name, and in her slightly hazed state it was the most erotic thing he could have said.
She waded in partway then dove, ready to run back out again, but as the water closed over her head, it was warm. Not pleasant, but also not forming a thin crust of ice over her bare skin, as she’d half expected.
“See? If I wore underwear, I could have been polite like you,” he said, looking amused as she bobbed to the surface. “You know, I’ve only ever come here with my brother.”
“Your brother?”
“Is that your first question?”
A cold breeze caught her and she sank lower in the water to get away from it.
“No. You mean Church,” she said. “I know that much.” She was hyperaware of the fact that he was naked, and she was only in her underwear, but he didn’t come anywhere near her, even though she felt him watching her whenever she looked away. “Okay, question one.”
He ducked under the water, then came back up slightly closer, water sheeting off his impossibly long, dark hair and making him looking like some sort of evil merman...mob enforcer...Viking. It was hard not to stare at the runnels of water as they skimmed over his muscle. Drops of water clung to his tattoos and dripped from the silver rings in his nipples. The things she thought about doing to those rings...
Damn he was fine.
“You had a question?” he asked.
She could tell he’d noticed her perusal. “About a million.”
“You only get three.” His cold eyes were narrowed. He was acting so different today. Was it the alcohol or something else? Maybe he was tired of being alone.
“I know, I know.” What to start with? “How long have you lived here?”
“Since I was about five. You ask boring questions.”
Five? She had trouble imagining this rough man had ever been a little boy.
“Did you ever have a normal life – with a family and school and friends?”
“No. My biological family lives in France – mother, two younger sisters. I’ve never gone to school. I’ve never really known anyone other than Church, his wife and kids, Sutton, and my financial manager, Rodrigo. There was my nanny too – Church’s mother – but she’s dead.”
“Why on earth don’t you get to know more people?”
“Most people aren’t worth knowing.”
Sometimes she felt that way too, but this was extreme.
“We’re going to fix that,” she said decisively.
“You think?” He moved closer, and she was reminded again that this wasn’t some timid and lonely little boy. He was a hulking, rude brute – who was now just inside her personal space.
Instinctively, she splashed him, moving back from the magnetic pull she’d started feeling around him. The water she’d doused him with dripped down his face, but he made no move to wipe it away. He only stared at her with an intensity that made her shudder.
“Cold?”
“Yes! And we don’t even have towels.” She laughed. He responded with a half-smile that seemed rehearsed, as though he had a guidebook to humans that said if one laughed, respond like this. “You’re a lot more friendly when you’ve been drinking.”
“Oh, I’m perfectly sober. I just find your sexual attraction to me fascinating.”
She stilled then glared at him. “You’re imagining things.”
“Lying isn’t a very good way to establish rapport, Miss Korsgaard.”
“I’m not lying,” she lied.
“You are, but not to mislead, only because you’re embarrassed and uncomfortable. It’s fine, you know. I see the way women look at me when I go into town. I’m not an idiot.”
Okay, time to cut the bullshit, as Sutton would say. “Yeah, I’m sure you rarely have an itch you can’t get scratched.”
He seemed closer now, but she wasn’t sure whose fault it was. Maybe she’d moved closer to him without noticing.
“I don’t engage in casual sex.”
“Saving yourself for marriage, are you?”
He snorted, but she caught his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts. Thank God she’d worn a nice bra today. She never could have anticipated this scenario.
God. What the hell was she doing? The little buzz she’d had from the beer was fading fast, and now this all seemed like a big mistake. She needed to end this interaction before she did something stupid.
Ignoring his perusal, she waded toward shore, squeezing water from her hair as she headed for her clothes. She could feel his gaze on her, and although she tried to act like she had no idea he was watching, she couldn’t help but put a sway in her hips.
She heard the slosh of water as he followed her out, and tried to focus on how cold she was rather than on how she was hoping he’d move up behind her and warm her up.
Inappropriate!
He was her employer, not some guy she wanted to pick up.
She slid on her top then her jeans, fighting to tug them back up her wet legs. From her peripheral vision, she could tell his gaze was fastened to the wiggle of her ass as she tried to get the pants back on. She unhooked her sopping wet bra and pulled it off through the armholes of her top, hoping her puckered nipples wouldn’t be too visible through the pale yellow fabric.
When she was relatively sure it was safe to look at him again, she did. His mask of disinterest was back in place, but his eyes did flick over her nipples, as though he couldn’t resist looking.
She shoved her feet back into her shoes, annoyed at the grit of sand between her toes, but in too much of a hurry to stop.
“I’d better get back to the house. I’m freezing.” She headed for the gap in the trees where the path began, but he was behind her before she got far.
“Are you running away from me because you’re having trouble controlling yourself?”
The nerve of this guy.
She whirled on him, glaring. “I have no problem controlling myself.”
“No?” he asked, his tone mocking. He leaned against a tree trunk bordering the path. “I think you’d let me do whatever I wanted to, even though you find me distasteful.”
“You’re pretty full of yourself, you know that?”
“So I’m imagining the way your lips part and your face turns pink when I give you orders?”
She’d always prided herself on being unreadable, but this hermit had her pegged.
“You’re always bossing me around – even more than you do with Sutton and Church. Why?”
“It’s hard to resist when you like it so much.”
“I don’t!”
“Then why don’t you storm off or tell me to go to hell when I get overbearing? Instead you move closer. You obey. You look away, but your body trembles.”
“No! You’re wrong.”
“When I tell you to crawl under the table to fetch the forks I drop, you do it. Every fucking time. No complaints.”
“You’re my boss.”
“I may be your boss, but I’m not paying you to like being treated like
a slave. That’s all you.”
She shivered, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself as her nipples tightened at the remembered arousal. Shit. He had her number, and now he fucking knew it.
“I don’t sleep with my employers.”
“Oh, I’m not offering you sex, Miss Korsgaard. I don’t sleep with anyone. Not even silly girls who like power games.”
“No one?”
“No one.”
“How long has it been?”
“You asked question three a long time ago, so I’m not answering that.” He chuckled, and it actually sounded like sincere amusement. “What a curious kitten you’ve turned out to be.”
She shook her head, confused.
“So we’re just going to keep playing your little game?”
“I like this game.” His voice was a low growl that made her want so much more than he was offering.
“You don’t like me, but you like the game?”
“You I barely know. The game intrigues me. You intrigue me.”
He wasn’t even shivering, meanwhile she was shaking hard. Some of it was even from the cold.
“Come on,” he said. “You need to keep moving or you’re going to freeze.”
They started walking again. This time he was so close she could feel where his body blocked the breeze from hitting her. When they reached the grounds, he moved up alongside her and brought her to the house.
As soon as they were safe inside, she started to relax. He wouldn’t do anything with Sutton wandering around.
“Go take a warm shower and change into dry clothes,” he ordered.
“I was planning to.”
“Meet me in my study after that.” His gaze was commanding, imperious.
She could say no. Should say no. If she got involved with him, things would inevitably go south, and she’d lose her job and her income. For a moment she pretended she had the willpower to refuse this. Refusing him might be just as detrimental to her position here, but she doubted it. The interactions with her that he liked so much were all voluntary.
She wished she was still tipsy so she’d have an excuse to back out, but she was already stone cold sober.
“Drop a lot of forks in your study, do you?” she finally asked, her tone sardonic.
“No. Things will be different in there.”
“But Sutton’s around.” Such a lame excuse, but a valid concern for her. She didn’t want the older woman knowing she was so weak.
“She went into town. She won’t be back until late tonight.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Fuck.
She swallowed, knowing there was no point in being coy anymore. “Is there something specific you want me to wear?”
“Surprise me.”
She bowed her head and withdrew.
Chapter Four
Severin showered and changed, ignoring the ache of his cock while he wondered what the hell he was doing with this girl. He wanted her, but then there was the rest of it. After he dressed and dragged a comb through his hair, he glanced at his phone. Still nothing from Church. If there had been, he would have been tempted to ask him what to do.
He caught his reflection in the mirror, and for the first time in years he realized how deranged he looked. His clothing was tattered – ripped jeans stained with motor oil, T-shirt threadbare. For all he’d teased the girl about looking too fancy, it had been years since he’d bought himself clothes. His hair had grown far longer than he would have let it grow if he’d taken the time to notice. Unbound, it fell to the small of his back. His beard needed trimming too. With the tattoos and the nose ring he looked like the kind of man people crossed the street to avoid, which was the whole point, but maybe his appearance had gone a few steps too far into creepy.
Why the hell did women look at him the way they did? Weren’t they only supposed to want men like Rodrigo, with his tailored suits and good manners? His financial manager looked like money, talked like money. He was handsome, well educated, and articulate, and women drooled over him, not knowing that under the pretty façade he was a much different man.
The halls were empty as he headed to his study. As he walked, he listened for her, forcing down the tight anticipation in his chest. When he reached his study he lit a fire in the fireplace, and within a few minutes the room had warmed. He picked up the manual he’d been reading the day before and sat at his desk, leafing through it to find where he’d left off, but he couldn’t focus on the words.
Would she join him or change her mind?
He was alone in the house with a beautiful woman, and there was no one around to hear them, or stop him from doing anything he wanted. No one around to judge him, except her.
Considering how worried she’d seemed about Sutton being home, she wasn’t about to gossip about what happened between them. She hadn’t told Sutton about their little game up until now either, although she’d noticed some of it.
A soft knock sounded at the open door. The girl stood in the shadows just outside the doorway, looking tiny and apprehensive. He could almost taste her hesitation. It was fucking perfect.
“Come in, Miss Korsgaard.”
She stepped into the room. The tight black T-shirt she wore showed off the swell of her breasts and trim waist, the same way the yoga pants complemented the shapely curve of her ass and legs. Like naked, but with a cloth skim coat. No bra. No panties. If she was wearing any, there’d be lines in the thin fabric.
“I wasn’t sure what to wear,” she admitted.
“That will do. Stand there.” He pointed at the spot directly across the desk from him. There were two chairs he could have offered her, but he chose to keep her standing.
He went back to reading his manual, pretending to be engrossed in it even though he wasn’t processing a word. Instead he was listening to the shaking breaths the girl drew, and surreptitiously watching the way she fidgeted and tried not to.
“Miss Korsgaard,” he snapped. “This is important. You’ll have to wait.”
She made a strange, strangled sound, but stilled.
For about ten minutes he left her standing there, pretending to ignore her while he worked on trying to both curb his erection and feign reading. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he closed the book and slid it aside.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve had this type of...interaction with someone?”
“No, Mister Leduc.” She shifted where she stood, then stopped when he gave her a look of censure.
Good. He wouldn’t have to tiptoe around the situation.
“Are there things you won’t let me do?”
“I’ve been a submissive before, but there are a lot of things I’ve never done.”
“Is that what I asked you?”
“No, Mister Leduc.”
He waited.
“I don’t like hardcore humiliation.” She sighed. “If you give me a safeword we can figure out my limits as we go along.”
“A safeword?”
She blinked at him in surprise. “A word that lets you know I need you to stop.”
“Why not just stop?” Safewords had never made much sense to him, but then he’d never had a reason to find out more even though he could have looked it up or asked Rodrigo why people used them.
Her teeth caught at her lip. “Some dominants like hearing a submissive beg for mercy without having to stop, and some submissives like that too. A random word the submissive wouldn’t normally say in that situation lets the dominant know when there’s a problem.”
A reddish tinge had crept up her neck to her lovely face, even though her tone was nonchalant. Was she remembering things she’d done with other men? Part of him was pleased she knew what she was doing, but at the same time the knowledge she’d done all of this before made him want to stamp his mark on her.
“You trust me to stop?”
“Shouldn’t I?”
“I suppose you’ll find out.”
There was a hum
of energy across the connection of their gazes. Was she as aroused as he was? He felt barely in control of himself.
“I’ll use the word...” She paused in thought.
“Tattoo.”
“I’m supposed to choose it!” She grinned at him, and it was the prettiest smile he could remember seeing. How had he never noticed her dimples? Fucking adorable.
“With me you don’t get to choose anything.”
“No?” She shrugged. “You don’t scare me.”
He stood and walked around to her side of the desk, standing behind her. She didn’t turn to look at him.
“Listen to me carefully. You are never to touch me without asking. Not only do I hate being touched, I can’t guarantee your safety if you do so without warning me.”
She stared down at the desk, but her forehead creased. “Yes, Mister Leduc.”
“I’m not fucking kidding about this, girl. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“You will do as you’re told when we’re alone together. I won’t tolerate balking or attitude. As much as I referred to this as a game earlier, it’s not a game. There’s no start and end – it just is. Your employment is not dependent on us doing this. If we decide to stop for whatever reason, your job is safe.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “It sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“For the past few days.”
“Do you know much about BDSM, Mister Leduc?”
“A bit.” Why lie? She’d have him figured out soon enough. “I’ve watched but don’t understand everything about the interactions. I’ve never let myself research it.”
“No? Why not? The internet is your friend.”
“I’ve had thoughts like these since I was young. I’ve always done my best to keep them in check – mostly by ignoring them. If it wasn’t for a friend of mine, I wouldn’t know anyone else even felt this way.”
She did look back at him then, her gaze full of compassion. “You aren’t alone. We’re everywhere.”
He aware of that from an academic perspective, but it was different hearing it from someone he knew, other than Rodrigo.
Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Book 1) Page 4