In His Cuffs

by Sierra Cartwright

  Maggie reached for the showerhead and detached it from its hook.

  After adjusting the setting from spray to pulse, she directed the water over her body, letting it pummel her nipples before going lower. She spread her legs and parted her labia.

  She imagined he was there with her, touching her, making her squirm.

  His rich voice seemed to resonate in her ears, and she could hear him urging her to hold on, to wait, to surrender.

  She moved her hips, seeking more sensation on her swollen clit. She was ready to come, wanted the orgasm.

  Imagining him urging her on, she screamed and climaxed, dropping the showerhead and grabbing onto a bar for support.

  It took a full minute for her to regain control. She forced herself to uncurl her clenched fingers and finish her shower.

  Damn, he’d got into her head.

  Generally when she had fantasies, the Dom was nameless and faceless. But this time, it had been so much more real, as if he’d been there with her.

  A powerful orgasm always helped relax her, but this time, it left her feeling more restless, maybe because she realised she wasn’t able to forget about David.

  It took over an hour of tossing and turning before she finally fell asleep.

  She was hunted in her dreams, chased by an overwhelming force. She was running down the street, desperate for breath. Finally, a hand landed on her shoulder, spinning her around. She screamed and screamed, and when she faced it, she saw a pulse of electric blue. When she reached up to shove it—him—away, the spectre vanished.

  With a start, she woke up, drenched in sweat.

  Shaking, she climbed from her bed. She grabbed a robe and wrapped the belt around her waist, cinching it tight. After turning on every light in the house, she grabbed a glass of water and headed outside.

  Some college students were hanging out on another patio, drinking beer and having more fun than she was.

  She realised she’d only ever seen that shade of blue in one place. David Tomlinson’s eyes.

  Damn it.

  How the hell was she supposed to survive working even more closely with him?

  Her mind was in a battle with her body. Though she craved his touch, she was smart enough to recognise the emotional threat he posed. But that didn’t stop her from wanting, desperately wanting.

  Maggie leaned against the railing and glanced at the sky. The moon was obscured by some clouds but the normality helped to stop her hand from trembling.

  Determined to relegate him to the position of boss and nothing larger in her life, she went back to bed. The rest of the night was fitful, and the alarm rang way too early.

  Exhausted, she dressed all in black, donning it as if it were armour. Her relationship with David did feel a bit like a battle. He was a master strategist, and she was always a step behind.

  “Morning, Mags.” Barb glanced around then whispered, “The tyrant is here.”

  Maggie’s heart lurched. She wanted to see him, and equally she needed to avoid him. The remnants of last night’s dream haunted her. “Oh?”

  “He’s brewing coffee. I asked if he needed help, but he said he thinks he can handle it.” Barb shrugged. “I’m not sure I believe he’s capable of menial tasks. Maybe one of us should make sure he’s not screwing up.”

  At one time, Maggie might have added a disparaging comment of her own. She was learning he was more complex than she’d originally given him credit for, but that didn’t mean she planned to organise the David Tomlinson fan club anytime soon. “I’m on it,” Maggie said.

  He was wiping down the counter when Maggie entered the break room.

  She had seen him organise his toys at the Den. Here, however, wearing a suit coat and tie, he looked out of place.

  “I was sent to ensure you know what you’re doing.”

  “Oh?” Still holding a towel, he turned to look at her.

  “This is serious.” She fought to hide a smile. “The productivity of the entire business rests on your shoulders.”

  “I gathered that from Barb’s reaction, so I dumped as much coffee in the filter as it would hold, and I filled the tank to the top.”

  She glanced at the pot then back at him. “We should be okay,” she said. “As long as you used a new filter? Sometimes people put new grounds on top of old ones.”

  “I thought about it,” he said. He moved to look at her. “It seems the basket didn’t get cleaned out last night, so the temptation was there. But as you say, productivity is at stake. I figured the more caffeine the better. Cost analysis weighed towards the extra scoops.”

  “Good call.”

  They exchanged grins.

  His smile dissipated as he looked at her, starting at her shoes and working his way up.

  She stood there, riveted.

  When their gazes met, she shuddered. His eyes were the same startling blue as in her nightmare, throwing her back into the memory and making her wary.

  “I spent all of last night thinking about holding you down.”

  Breathless. He left her breathless.

  He laid the towel across the dish drain. “My office? Fifteen minutes? We need to talk about Around the World.”

  How did he do that? Flip from sex to business in three seconds? “That should be enough time for me to check messages,” she said.

  He nodded and moved past her.

  Maggie wondered how much time he spent dreaming up ways to keep her off kilter.

  After depositing her purse and briefcase in her office, checking voicemail and emails, she returned to the break room to grab a cup of coffee. Barb was already happily sipping hers. The receptionist had added so much flavoured creamer that it looked like a latte and smelt like vanilla ice cream.

  Maggie poured herself a cup then paused. David’s mug was on the counter, waiting to be filled. She waged an internal debate before getting one for him.

  She carried both to his office. Seeing he was on a call, she stopped, but he waved her in.

  He continued his conversation while keeping his gaze on her.

  Self-consciously, she placed his mug on a coaster bearing the company’s logo. Then she balanced her cup as she sat.

  She started to fidget then, realising what she was doing, she crossed her legs and sat still.

  He nodded, letting her know his attention was on her.

  She looked away.

  Behind him, on a credenza, were several stress balls, each in a different primary colour. Other than that, there were no personal effects in the office. He’d repainted after her mother had moved out—evidently bright yellow didn’t suit him.

  Now the walls were a calm taupe. The furnishings were sleek and functional, with no space wasted and nothing cluttered.

  She wondered if it was a reflection of him, and how he lived his life outside of work. Really, she knew little about him. Until now, she hadn’t been curious.

  When he hung up, he said, “I saw you behave similarly at the Den. Once you recognise your behaviour, you correct it. It makes you a very good sub.”

  “Could we not talk about that night? I thought we agreed not to.” She looked at him, desperately trying to forget the dream and about the night they’d shared.

  “As you wish, Maggie. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “My pleasure,” she said, fighting a compulsion to add an honorary title when she spoke to him. How did he so effortlessly do that? Put her in a comfortable role and make her want to stay there. She wondered who she was fighting, him or herself.

  He took a drink and regarded her above the rim.

  She waited for him to speak, after all, he’d requested her presence.

  “I had meetings with the owner and a key manager of Around the World yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “We went over their financials. They are not as big as we are.”

  “Are you serious? I was sure they did more revenue.”

  “More business,” he agreed. “But they’ve underbid some of their bigger
projects.”

  “So that should put you—” She stopped and corrected herself—“I mean us, in a better position.”

  “We should get an immediate lift in profits, yes. But raising prices could mean losing some accounts.”

  “You don’t sound worried about it.”

  “I’m not. I focus on results and the things I can control.” He put down his coffee. “Where are we on the open house?”

  “Do you still want to move forward?”

  “I thought about that. I do. No sense putting it off. I still want an event with our current clients. And it makes sense to have something bigger and splashier when we own Around the World.”

  He’d said when, not if.

  “Maybe around the holidays,” he added.

  She thought about it. “We could hold that at a client site. We recently signed a winery. They have beautiful grounds, including a gazebo, and they give tours of their cellar. I think hosting an event there would be elegant, and it would give them some exposure.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Is the space big enough?”

  “They have an events centre, yes.”

  “Ah, it is in Denver?”

  She leant forwards, gaining enthusiasm. “Surprisingly yes.”

  “I’ll trust you. Give me some available dates.”

  “Are we keeping our company name, or are you changing it?”

  “We’ll stay with our name. But I figure we’d incorporate their logo.”

  She nodded. “We may want to freshen it. I’ll come up with a few ideas, but since this is still quiet, I won’t have our graphics people work on it yet.” She knew their logo had an eagle of sorts on it. She’d always thought it was a little uninspired, so the idea of tweaking it appealed to her. “We could stick with an eagle, perhaps with talons extended to visually reinforce the ‘Now’ part of our name.”

  He nodded. “I like it.”

  “Maybe I’ll see if we can get a privately labelled wine for the occasion. Could serve as the debut of the new marketing package.”

  “We have a lot of details to plough through before we’re close enough to have that discussion,” he cautioned.

  “You’re not the only one who can move fast, David.”

  He sat back. “Glad we’re on the same side.”

  “It’s temporary,” she assured him.

  “So you say.”

  * * * *

  For the next couple of weeks, Maggie managed to keep her distance, sending emails and text messages to keep him updated on her projects and deals in progress. Their meetings were generally held with other people in the conference room.

  He’d honoured her request to stop talking about the night at the Den, and that frustrated her more than his reminders had.

  She felt as if she were tied in emotional knots.

  Almost every night, she had the same nightmare—the heavy hand on her shoulder and the shock of blue when she was spun around.

  She was becoming more and more frustrated from lack of sleep.

  Masturbating wasn’t helping, and neither was going to the gym.

  Finally, almost a month after the Ladies’ Night at the Den, she and Vanessa met for dinner. Sushi and sake could fix nearly anything, or at least it had been able to until now.

  “Colour me shocked,” Vanessa said as she used a chopstick to smear wasabi on a tuna roll. “You’re working with one of the world’s sexiest Dom’s and he’s hot for your ass. So tell me again why you can’t sleep with him?”

  “Hello? He’s a bastard who has my future mapped out for the next eighteen months. I can’t look for another job. I feel as if my life is on hold.”

  “I don’t get it. Are you not capable of sleeping with a guy without it interfering with your job performance?”

  She had no idea. “He has a no fraternising rule.”

  “So break it and give him something to punish you for.”

  “Would you be serious here?” Maggie exclaimed.

  “Maggie, Maggie, Maggie. You need to relax before you give yourself an ulcer. Fine. He has a policy. Is it in writing in the employee handbook?”

  “No.”

  “Not all companies have those kinds of policies in place, but when they are, it’s generally to protect morale, avoid conflicts of interest or to protect subordinates from feeling like they might be harassed. It helps companies avoid sexual harassment charges, but c’mon, Mags, CEOs even marry their executives.”

  Not only was Vanessa a good friend, she’d spent a number of years working in human resources.

  “Your situation is unique,” Vanessa continued. “This isn’t legal advice, but I’d say that a relationship between the two of you is just that. Unless one of you is going to file a lawsuit, then it’s really just personal preference. A lot of small firms employ family members, and this is no worse than you working for your mom. If he’s made it clear he’s interested in you, then it means he sees you as an equal and not a subordinate. So if you want to fuck him, and he’s not using his position of authority to unduly manipulate you, then fuck him.” She poured a small amount of soy sauce over the top of the roll then slammed down the bottle and scowled. “Is he pressuring you?”

  Maggie shook her head. “He hasn’t mentioned it in over two weeks. And he’s offered me more incentive to stay.”

  “Have you considered he’s just as tied up by that damned contract as you are?”

  She took a drink of her cooling sake.

  “He’s got all his capital invested in your mother’s company. He can’t go hire a hotshot salesperson who’s loyal to him while he’s agreed to pay your salary and put money aside for Gloria. Something’s gotta give.” Vanessa popped the roll in her mouth then blinked furiously.

  “Too much wasabi?” Maggie asked with a laugh. The way Vanessa’s eyebrows had shot up ruined her lecture and the moment.

  “Shit.” Vanessa reached for the sake and took a massive gulp. “I need to take it easy here.” She fanned herself. “Let me tell you how I see it,” she said after dabbing her eyes with a napkin. “You look like hell. You’re not sleeping. You’re having nightmares. What would happen if you told him the truth?”

  Or was it herself she needed to be honest with?

  “You’ve always gone after the things you wanted. You’ve never been one to let life pass you by. Why start now?”

  Maggie thought about that for the rest of the night. Saturday seemed to drag. She finished her laundry and workout by nine o’clock, leaving a yawning gap in her calendar. Vanessa had a date that evening, and her mother was camping out at a music festival. Finally, she considered going to the Den.

  The online calendar showed that tonight’s event was designed for new Dommes and those interested. It was possible she’d find a dominant male there, but it was a long drive for that gamble.

  Truthfully, she wanted another taste of David’s lash. It wasn’t just a scene she wanted. It was him.

  She ended up doing a ton of work from home and streaming an entire season’s worth of a police drama. Too often, she wondered what David was doing.

  By Sunday, she knew she had to face her nightmare. She wasn’t running from him as much as she was trying to protect herself.

  That left only one course of action. She had to talk to him.

  * * * *

  Monday crawled. Since she didn’t want to mix work and sex, she decided to talk to him after everyone else had gone home.

  Finally, later than normal, her mother waved goodnight, saying she was heading to her first belly dancing lesson. Once the front door had closed, Maggie squared her shoulders and walked down the hallway to David’s office.

  She knocked on the doorframe and waited until he looked up from the stack of papers before him. “May I come in?”

  “Please.”

  Her stomach plunged as she took a seat. Now that she was here, the object of his scrutiny, she wasn’t sure what to say.

  He allowed the silence to grow before asking, “Something on your
mind, Maggie?”

  “I…” She tipped back her head.

  Waiting silently, with the patience it took for water to wear a hole in a rock, he reached for a yellow stress ball that was sitting on his desktop.

  After swallowing her nerves, she seized all her courage and met his intense gaze. “What does a girl have to do to get a spanking around here?”

  Chapter Five

  David squeezed the ball tight.

  Maggie had asked her question with a light, teasing tone, likely so that she could be flippant about it if he turned her down. But he heard the shakiness that sketched across her vocal chords. Her body was rigid, her smile false and the atmosphere seemed charged with tension. His answer and this moment, both mattered to her.

  He’d given up hope that she would mention playing with him again.

  And he respected that. If Maggie wanted to keep their personal experience confined to a one-night stand at the Den… Well, that wasn’t the way he preferred it, but he wouldn’t push. For any relationship with a sub to be successful, she had to offer herself freely. Now that she was here…

  He tried not to let her know how many times he’d jacked off, thinking about her coming to him and asking to scene. Since the night at the Den, he’d thought about little else other than Maggie and her unrehearsed responses, her whimpers, the way she moved her body, sometimes with sensuous grace, sometimes with an exaggerated tease.

  Part of him realised it would have been smarter not to have played with her in the first place. The taste had whetted his appetite. Seeing her every day, tight skirt clinging to her rounded derrière, made it worse. He’d spent days fantasising about having her in his cuffs, over his knee, under his control.

  With deliberate mastery, he reined in his thoughts. Choosing his words with great care, he said, “If a particular sub wanted something, she’d ask, and she’d be specific about her intent.” He leant back in his chair and regarded her, deciding how to proceed. He wanted her to feel as if she had some power, but he knew she wanted him to be in charge.

  Maggie unclasped her hands and scooted back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other in a sexy slide of silk. Her posture and the way she folded her hands in her lap was perfect.