by Kitty Thomas
She jumped when the door opened. Lindsay dropped papers on top of the bed in front of her.
“What is this?”
“It's a bill of sale. For you. You think this is some game? You think I'm just messing with you or doing some weird experimental therapy? As far as the house is concerned, you now belong to me. All of the trainers are being notified. Every single living soul in this house will know by morning that you belong fully and completely to me. Is it real enough for you now?”
The piece of paper on top was a very official-looking bill of sale for... no. That was insane.
She looked up. “How stupid do you think I am? You think this proves anything? You think I believe you paid three million dollars? For me? The way I am? When you could just do whatever you wanted? Nobody was going to stop you. This charade is sick, even for you.”
“Look at the other papers.”
Shannon rolled her eyes but set the bill of sale aside and looked at the papers underneath. It was a printout from his bank showing the wire transfer. Realistically the house could just transfer the money back to him, but it all seemed like a lot of trouble to go to. Besides, their business was far too illegal to transfer large sums of money back and forth willy nilly. It could create questions and put them all at risk.
About a year after coming to the house, Shannon had asked Annette how they got away with such large transfers of money without drawing suspicion. Annette had said they created a DBA under the corporate structure for Extreme Luxury Vacations, and had payments sent to that account. A somewhat elaborate website had been created, and occasionally they got a call for that. Gabe usually charmed them, bullshitted his way through it, and called around and got something set up, while pocketing a tidy profit that should be a crime in and of itself.
When Shannon had seemed shocked, Annette had just shrugged and said, “What can you do? Sometimes money and intelligence do not in any way correlate.”
Wasn't that the truth.
But there were never refunds. The house didn't do refunds. So if such a large sum were to be transferred into the house's bank account only to be returned soon after, or ever... it would be an anomaly, and with increasing bank security and national security, such an anomaly was too risky. Lindsay and the rest of the guys wouldn't take such a large risk all for the sake of a game.
Shannon blinked suddenly, realizing Lindsay was speaking to her again.
“I told you I want you. I've always wanted you. I've wanted you for eight years. You think that feeling is going to change? Especially when I almost lost you? Twice now.” He was pacing, looking all intense and disheveled, a completely unnatural look on the doctor. “I'm not playing a game with you. You know the rules of this house. You know what you signed on for when you came here. You belong to me in the same irrevocable way you would have belonged to whoever had bought you if things had gone differently.”
Shannon felt the walls close in. If things had gone differently. Such a casual way to put the single most shattering day of her life.
“Sir... I...”
“Master,” he corrected.
She tried to tamp down the excitement. Was it just the night before when she'd been struggling not to say that word for fear he'd only mock her and all the things she knew she couldn't have? She hadn't said that word in so long she wasn't sure if she was even still capable of it.
“I-isn't this all a little sudden?” she said, instead. Stalling.
“Sudden? We've known each other eight years! This is three celebrity weddings and divorces. How much time has to pass before we both have what we want?”
“I-I don't want this.” But it wasn't even convincing to her own ears.
“Right. Well, it's done. I spent a lot of money; you're now mine. I have fulfilled my original promise to you, now it's time for you to honor your side of the agreement.”
The heated look he gave her made her look back down at the papers on the bed trying to figure out how she and Lindsay had gotten to this place.
It was true, when she wasn't hating him for bringing her to the house, she'd had a sick sort of longing for him. And Mina seemed to think that sentiment flowed both ways. And the papers in front of her indicated the same.
Lindsay picked up the papers, apparently deciding she'd stared at them long enough. He folded them neatly and put them in a drawer in the nightstand and joined her on the bed.
“Are you going to fuck me?” Shannon asked.
“It's well within my rights as far as the house is concerned, but no, not tonight.”
Because he didn't want her. If he wanted her wouldn't he... But why would he pay that money? He couldn't just be screwing with her. But it was wrong to even want him after... everything. The evidence of just why she should never trust the doctor was written in the ugly bleached-out scars on her back.
“It's late. Go to sleep.” He kissed the top of her head and pulled the blankets over them leaving her more confused than ever.
63
Lindsay laid in bed staring at the ceiling for an hour with the warm, naked object of his desire pressed snuggly against him, taunting him with what he should just take. He wasn't sure how, but she slept peacefully beside him. In sleep, her guard came down as if it was only unconsciously that she knew she could trust him. But could she really? Should she?
This should be a simple enough equation. She wanted him. He wanted her. But he couldn't help but feel if he took what he wanted that he would break her. Everything he touched seemed to break. Could he trust himself with her?
Lindsay slipped out of bed and put on some sweats and tennis shoes and went down to the fitness room. He was unsurprised to find Brian running on one of the treadmills, listening to Chopin's nocturnes. The two men exchanged a look that could have contained all the hatred in the universe. Things had been tense for years now with them—ever since Lindsay had brought Mina to the house.
She'd been broken when he'd brought her. Unlike Shannon. But then also so very much like Shannon in the anger painted in deep scars across her back. He'd made it a point to watch over her and keep her shielded from Brian.
He'd been understandably alarmed about Mina's safety when Brian had stopped a sale to claim her as his own. Lindsay had been sure it was some sick obsession that could only end in harm coming to her, but against all reasonable odds, something in her seemed to soothe the thing that was broken and raging inside Brian. But Brian had never forgiven him for meddling in the matter.
Lindsay hopped on a treadmill on the other side of the gym and started running, trying equally to ignore Brian and to stop thinking about the woman sleeping upstairs in his bed.
Brian's treadmill stopped, but the classical piano music kept playing. The other man moved to the treadmill next to Lindsay and started running again.
“So, Doc,” Brian said, not sparing him a glance, focused entirely on running to or from all the things he ran to or from on the nights he couldn't sleep.
Lindsay wondered if Brian still had the nightmares. They'd stopped treatment and Brian had become a black box from which no secret ever slipped. Not that Brian had ever been much of an open book. The things that lurked inside his mind existed inside a deep pit that even most grown men dared not tread into.
“So... Doc,” Brian repeated, this time with a hint of mockery in his tone, “trying some new therapy with our girl?”
Word did travel fast in the house. No doubt, Brian had gone straight to Anton as soon as the sale was complete for details. Lindsay felt his grip tighten against the rails of the treadmill.
“She's not our girl,” Lindsay said evenly. “She's my girl. Don't forget it.”
Brian laughed. “Oh, I thought we were sharing. After the way you inserted yourself between me and Mina. Is that not what we're doing? Come on... you know you want to. Let me... play with her. You can play with Mina. Let's see who can leave the most interesting marks.”
Lindsay tried not to let Brian's taunts get to him. There was no reality in which Brian would e
ver share Mina. The house sociopath was just trying to get inside his head. The man forgot who he was playing with.
Lindsay stopped his treadmill, got off, and went to stand in front of Brian's. He looked him dead in the eye. “If you touch her, the house will have a new resident killer. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah, Doc. You're real scary. I'm not too worried. I hear you only kill from neglect. Sort of funny for a plant guy.” Brian shut off his own treadmill and turned the music off. He gave Lindsay a good long stare down, then shook his head, chuckled, and left without another word.
Lindsay followed him out into the hallway to make sure Brian wasn't going to bother Shannon. When he turned down the hallway that led to the dungeons and his own room with Mina, Lindsay went back into the fitness room.
Brian's presence was still palpable in the room as if all his personal demons had set up camp there instead of following him back down to Mina where they could find quiet. Lindsay got back on the treadmill and ran. This time, the only sound in the room was the machine humming and his feet beating against the conveyor belt.
The past twenty-four hours had not unfolded the way he'd intended. Something had snapped inside him when he'd almost lost her the night before. Without his full consent something deep within his lizard brain had laid claim to her. It hissed endlessly in his ear, Mine. Mine. Mine. There was an unreasonable certainty to the word.
He'd wanted to take things slow. What if this feeling somehow wore off? He couldn't commit to her until he was sure. He couldn't drag her into something he couldn't finish. He needed to take some time, go slow. Be sure. But then he'd bought her.
And now that he had her, instead of fucking her, or training her into the perfect little slave to fulfill his every fantasy and request... he was letting her sleep! Like some poor lovesick fool. Did he plan to woo her? Bring her flowers and candy? Take her to the movies like two normal people?
Neither of them had even the vaguest idea anymore what normal looked like.
Here he was, trying to run his libido ragged until he was too tired for the signal of desire to travel from his brain to his dick—or the other way around as the case may be.
He looked up suddenly to see her standing there in the doorway, watching him. It was as if his spirit had briefly left him to awaken her and draw her to his side. She wore only his dress shirt that he'd worn to the office that day. Not the move of a woman who hated him. If she hated him, why would she wrap herself inside his scent? It was a wild, almost animal thing to do. Maybe her lizard brain was hissing, too.
If she only knew the words that had just passed between him and Brian, she wouldn't venture through the house like this—tantalizingly half-naked in the middle of the night.
Lindsay turned off the treadmill, but he couldn't turn off the thing in his mind that said run, stalk, catch, capture, take, possess. He strode decisively toward her.
Whatever intent she'd seen in his eyes was enough to startle her into running from him. She didn't go for the main entryway and the stairs but instead ran down the hallway toward the cafeteria—no doubt a place she thought was safe... neutral.
Lindsay's legs were much longer and stronger than hers. It only took a minute to catch her, to pin her against the wall here in this wide open space where there was nowhere to hide.
Shannon panted, gasping to catch her breath. Lindsay held her wrists trapped against the wall. They stood a few yards away from the buffet Phyllis would be filling with food soon. In a few hours there would be talk and laughter and sunlight in this room. A safety he couldn't offer her now.
For a long moment they stared at each other—predator and prey—a silent ancient understanding passing between them.
“Why did you run?” he asked, breaking the spell.
“Why did you chase me?”
He couldn't help but notice she hadn't used the word Master yet. The last man she'd used that title for had been the man who'd driven her to Lindsay's office in the city in the first place.
“If you open your mouth again, it had better be to address me properly.”
She looked away. Not defiance. Shyness. Interesting development.
“Look at me.”
She turned back, her breathing normal now. He slipped his hand between her legs. No panties. Good girl. She was wet and ready for him. How many nights had she been left wanting because he hadn't been there to take care of her?
She'd obviously come down here looking for him tonight... looking for this. Otherwise, why wouldn't she put on more clothes to wander the halls? Why would she leave herself so open and vulnerable to him?
“Do not take your eyes off mine or there will be consequences.”
The clock on the wall above them ticked loudly in the stillness. He was sure she felt his erection pressed against her. And yet, she didn't squirm away from it.
Right now they were a million miles away from this same room twenty-four hours ago when he'd been making tea and she'd seemed so fragile and barely of this world. At the time he'd had the odd notion to fuck her back into living, but now, in this moment, he knew the truth. He'd been living the same half-life as her, barely existing inside the shadow of Brian's cruelty.
The only difference was that he'd had more distraction and less pain than Shannon's part in this drama. It was the only reason he hadn't seen his own emptiness—the emptiness that he saw reflected back to him now in guileless chocolate-colored eyes.
He'd wanted to seduce her, warm her up, bring her over more slowly. It was a complete lie that he'd make her beg him to fuck her. Or that fucking was only for good girls. Fucking was for her. Good or bad.
“Please,” she whispered. She opened her legs wider and thrust her hips up at him in an achingly beautiful invitation to his cock.
Fuck it. He had plenty of time to be creative with her. There was nothing more perfect than this moment—running down prey and fucking it against the cafeteria wall.
“Master, please,” she whispered again.
That word he wanted from her finally tumbling from her lips so sweetly.
He let out a low groan when he entered her. She was breathtakingly tight, further evidence she'd been with no one in years. She felt like a virgin. She was so wet and pliant and open. How the hell did they get to this moment? How the hell had they not gotten to it sooner?
He took her like he knew she'd needed to be taken since he'd first laid eyes on her. He drove into her far too savagely for someone who hadn't been with a man in so long, but he wanted to sear the feel of his cock into her mind forever. Let there be no question who the fuck owned her.
In their frenzied joining, the cafeteria became a blend of ticking, rhythmic pounding against the wall, and the soft pants and moans coming from Shannon's sweet mouth as she bucked against him meeting him thrust for thrust.
To her credit she didn't look away when she came, her cunt pulsing around him. Nor did she break his gaze when he did the same. He kept her pressed against the wall, her wrists still pinned over her head. And they just looked at each other, their breathing harsh. It was as though they had a secret now between them. Even though the whole house would know in mere hours.
Shannon laid in bed pretending to sleep as Lindsay got ready to go into the city. She'd replayed the previous night in her mind about a hundred times already.
“Shannon,” he called from the bathroom.
Fuck. She'd hoped she could feign sleep until he was out of the house. She didn't think she could look at him today after the previous night. What had happened between them downstairs in the cafeteria, while it may not have been some complex kink game, it had been so raw. And so soon. But when he'd pinned her against the wall, all she'd wanted was for him to be inside her, to mark her as his. To consummate those papers he'd given her and put truth behind those little numbers on the printout.
She felt a blissful raw ache between her legs as if he were still inside her. It had been so long. She'd held back the cry of pain when he'd pushed his way inside her. She'
d been wet enough, but it still hurt. She hadn't cared. But now, in the light of day she felt awkward, and all at once she was overcome with old familiar insecurity. Insecurity from before the house. The insecurity of the morning after you'd been with a man you really really liked, when you were afraid that maybe you'd fucked it up somehow, maybe he felt nothing. Maybe he was done now.
She didn't want Lindsay to be a man who fell into the man she really really liked category. She hated him. She did. And yet, those nervous fears fluttered through her. Even with the grand gesture... maybe she was out of his system now. Maybe the hunger was gone. Maybe his curiosity was sated and he was done. Maybe...
“Kitten...” he growled from the bathroom. “Get your ass in here.”
Okay, maybe not done.
Shannon got up and joined him in the shower. She didn't have to be told he wanted her in there with him. It might have been a long time since she'd done this, but she wasn't stupid.
He ran soapy hands over her body, lingering for long moments over her breasts and ass. Between her legs. She whimpered and rocked against his hand. She wasn't sure she could take him fucking her again so soon, but she wanted him to. It had been so incredibly long since anyone had taken her with such raw desire. She'd been sure she'd never feel that with anyone again.
But he didn't fuck her. Instead he put the soap in her hands. “My turn,” he said.
She bathed him, her hands also lingering... over his chest, his abs. That ass. That perfect tight ass she wanted to leave nail marks in. When she reached his cock, he'd had enough games.
“Stroke me. Don't fuck around. I don't have time for you to tease me.”
The coldly delivered order should have offended her, should have hurt her. But it only awakened long buried urges—the needs it seemed someone was finally agreeing to fill. She wrapped her hand around him, gripping and stroking him hard and fast, as his eyes held her gaze locked on his.