He stood. “I have critical work to do here, first.” He leaned over, pushing her back to the desk surface. “Open.” Her knees widened without a nanosecond hesitation.
His hand circled the front of her neck and her belly curled in pleasure. Cold metal touched the outside of her thigh followed by the clip of fabric being cut. He’d used scissors. The zing of his zipper was next, his broad palm keeping that pressure against her throat, and then that long slow glide of his cock stretching her, filling her up to her furthest point.
“Now what will you do?” he rasped.
“Wait for your permission.” No need to be much more specific anymore. Their dynamic was established. He took. She gave. He decided when she deserved that mind-blowing ecstasy that would rack her body with spasms inside and out. The order of their agreement held such peace. It was everything else around it that was the problem.
Her shoulders relaxed, her legs went limp as he fucked her hard and long. When he did release her to climax, all thoughts of pencil skirts and walks had vanished. She was nothing but a receptacle for his pleasure, which gave her everything she needed—at least in that moment. As she was coming down, her skirt pulled into place, reality came crashing back.
“One hour.” He pecked the end of her nose with his lips. “See you in the garden.”
It’s okay. I’m loved. It’s all going to be all right. I think.
Guess she was taking that walk—in the garden, however, because that’s where he wanted her. How bad would it be if she walked out the front door? Be alone for a bit?
32
Alexander picked up Rebecca’s hand and kissed it. “I’m going to leave you ladies to discuss hemlines and fabrics. Rebecca, I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He pecked her on the top of her head. Of course, he’d be in his office. She had not gotten very far in her attempt to leave, as Carrie came bursting forward with news about this “meeting” with Sarah.
God, she was in a bad mood today—for nothing.
Rebecca crossed the threshold into Sarah’s private room, another perk she’d recently learned of that was given to all the Accendos Tribunal Members. Everyone had a massive, personal, bedroom suite assigned for their use.
Sarah’s had a bay window, trees swaying in a breeze outside, and a king-sized bed similar to Alexander’s, though a beautiful blue fabric sheathed the tall bedposts.
Sarah stepped back and examined the length of Rebecca, starting at her black ballet flats and ending at her hair pulled back into a careless ponytail. A chill ran through her entire body, as if the woman had undressed her. “Yes.” Sarah nodded. “You are quite beautiful.”
Her smile was like dawn breaking, bathing her in approval. Her insides loosened a little, as if an army of fists around her internal organs uncurled.
Rebecca lowered her gaze. “Thank you … Mistress Sarah.” Was she to use her first name?
“No need for that with me.”
Rebecca looked up. Sarah’s perfect cheeks warmed with color. “Let’s be friends.”
“I’d love that.” She hadn’t made many female friends in the past, but Sarah was someone who understood that you could have two men and not be a freak. It would be nice to have someone who approved of her situation but didn’t want to strap her to a St. Andrew’s Cross for mind-numbing pleasure. Eric was wonderful, but the threat of sex was always there, and she’d never really put aside her belief that Eric was there for access to Alexander—not her. Plus, perhaps Sarah could shed some light on Alexander’s life—or nonlife. She’d begun to worry that his world was nothing but sex and work.
“That’s a beautiful necklace.” Sarah dipped her head toward her décolletage.
Rebecca’s hand rose, her fingers finding the small moonstone pendant as it had nearly every day of her life since Alexander first clasped it around her neck. “Thank you. It was a gift from Alexander a long time ago.”
“It suits you.”
Sarah’s eyes held something, a sadness, perhaps? Was she interested in him? No. Rebecca had learned from Alexander that Sarah had her own men, not unlike Rebecca’s situation. It was an odd thought, really, that she had two men in her life today when a few weeks ago she’d had no one. Her new life was such violent change from the way she’d lived the past forty years. Perhaps that’s what provoked these odd jealousy moments that alternated with a need to flee. Her previously quiet life had been under her control, while she controlled nothing about her present situation. Her emotions regularly got the best of her. Neither the jealousy or the urge to flee were like her. She’d prided herself on being chill, in fact.
“So, now, for your wardrobe.” Sarah snapped into a professional mode, jarring Rebecca a little. She moved to the bed piled high with more clothes than Rebecca owned.
“Oh. That’s a lot of dresses.” Garments were laid out in long rows—reds, blues, blacks, some with pleats, some with lace and others so sheer she wondered why anyone would wear it at all since you’d be bearing your underwear to the world. Oh, look, a stack of sheer panties and bras were stacked on that chair in the corner.
“I normally would measure you first, discuss what you like, but I took a chance from our first meeting. You’re a size eight?”
“How could you tell?”
“Professional habit. Measuring people in my mind. By the way, my Steffan and Laurent send their apologies for not coming over yet. They had to go to New York for some meetings on Steffan’s nonprofit, but I promise they’ll make it up to you.”
My Steffan and Laurent. As casually as if reciting a grocery list, Alexander had told her Sarah was married to a fellow Dominant, and they had a third man who was “collared” to them. “I look forward to meeting them.” Questions she wanted to ask rose up like a tide, half to get a handle on how all that worked and half because Sarah might have advice for her sudden, new “situation.”
Sarah lifted a gold dress with an empire waist and Fortuny pleats. “So, let’s start with the Christmas Masquerade Ball. Alexander requested—”
“The Christmas ball?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
Here she’d been thinking of some pantsuits and a casual dress or two, but a gown? “A ball,” she repeated as if she had a stuttering issue.
“More like a Christmas party that gives everyone an excuse to get dressed up and act mysterious behind masks. Now, you tell me if any suit you. Don’t spare my feelings. This is about you, not me.” She held the gold dress up to her and frowned. “Wrong color.” She dropped it on the bed.
“You’re being so generous.”
“We help each other here. Everyone has a talent and we lend it to each other.” She lifted three more dresses but seemed not to like them, either.
“Then I might be out of my league.”
“No league. Just family at Accendos.” She cocked her head at Rebecca as if she didn’t understand.
“It’s quite a big family.”
“Thousands, actually.” Sarah snapped a forest green dress to get some static cling to release, and Rebecca shuddered. Thousands? There were more people?
“Rebecca? Perhaps we should sit and talk for a bit. You look quite stunned.” She snapped her fingers. “Slave … ”
A woman appeared, darting out from under a cricket table and crawling like a spider. Rebecca cried out. Where the hell had she come from? Rebecca’s knees hit the back of a chair, and she shot her arm out to steady herself.
“Rebecca. Sit.” Sarah’s voice broke through her momentary panic, and she found herself sitting in a large overstuffed chair, her eyes furiously blinking and her head shifting from Sarah to the dark-haired girl. She knelt in the center of the room, head downcast, fully nude except for a series of thin chains wrapped around her body. Rebecca’s heart punched at her insides and her legs began to shake.
Sarah had her hand on the back of her neck, and Rebecca was then staring at the carpeting. “Breathe.” Sarah’s hand circled caresses over her back as Rebecca took in lungfuls of air. She’d alm
ost fainted? What an idiot. What was going on? This was ridiculous. She’d accompanied a caravan from London to Algiers on a story about relief workers. She’d slept in a tent in North Africa to write about the last of the Bedouin tribes. She’d hiked—and gotten lost, damnit—in Nepal, but made her way out.
“Slave. Water.”
Rebecca gulped air as she raised her gaze. The young girl unfolded herself from her crouch and scooted over to a table. Water rushed into a glass. Sarah took it from the woman and handed it to Rebecca. She wrapped both hands around the glass, the cool temperature clearing her head a bit. She took a sip.
“Leave us.” Sarah’s voice was clipped, direct.
The girl scooted forward, and Rebecca shrank into the chair as if being affronted by something alien, foreign. The girl quickly kissed the back of Sarah’s hand and scooted backward on hands and knees and out the door.
Sarah’s hand hadn’t left Rebecca’s back, an invisible tether holding her in place. “Take a minute. Desiree scared you.”
She could say that. “I’m just getting used to the dynamics here.” Like people jumping out of shadows asking if they could help. Like being presented with twenty-five ball gowns to try on for a thousand-person ball. Like Alexander taking her on his desk. It was all so … surreal.
“We can do this another time.”
“No, please. I don’t want you to have gone to this trouble for no reason.” She stood and placed the glass of water on a coaster. “I like that blue one.” She strode to the bed and fingered a midnight blue silk dress. “This is pretty.” She could not catch her breath.
“Rebecca.” Sarah’s voice was firm, so like Alexander.
Her gaze shot up to the woman, finding more warmth in her face than she’d expected.
“Shall I call Alexander?” Sarah strode over to her.
“No. Please. I’m fine.” That edge of panic in her voice was humiliating.
Sarah’s brows furrowed.
“I mean. He’s working and … You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll adjust.”
“It’s not about adjusting. It’s about being honest. It’s wonderful you and Alexander found one another again but you’re allowed to take your time.”
“I understand things,” Rebecca said. “ I’ve been around … this before.” Except for this ball gown thing, and the slave thing and the constant barrage of people and parties and … She fingered the diaphanous silk. Focus on the details. The midnight blue gown was pretty with gold stars embroidered into a tulle overlay.
“Yes, I know. I hope you don’t mind that Alexander told me years ago about you and Charles,” Sarah said. “He needed someone to talk to.”
He gaze darted up. Sarah knew? Everyone here seemed to know everything about Rebecca, and she knew nothing about them. Did they know she’d been so awful to him once? Her heart thudded in her chest. “I’m glad. Sometimes people forget he has needs, too.”
Sarah cocked her head and smiled. “You do understand him.”
“I love him.” The truth blurted out.
“I believe you.”
“Do you mind if I try on this one?” She lifted the star dress, not wanting any of them, but her questions had dried up. The timing wasn’t right.
“It will look stunning against your red hair.”
Sarah eased her into the dress, and with a zip of a side zipper, she was encased in a tighter bodice than she’d expected, though the gossamer overlay floated around her.
“Good eye, Rebecca. You complete this dress. It’s like it was made for you.” Sarah steered her to a full-body mirror.
“Oh, I love it.” She did. She smoothed her hands down the front of the dress. From the outside, she looked radiant. Her hips were wide, but her stomach was flat. A few wrinkles lined her eyes, but her skin had remained clear from her sunscreen habit. She knew when men looked at her, their eyes lingered. Inside, though, she didn’t feel this beautiful, and certainly not someone who should be with a man who seemed to contribute so much to the world.
She turned away from the mirror. “May I ask you a question, Sarah? How did you meet Alexander?”
“In a club. He saved my life.”
“Oh.” That was quite a bombshell. Everyone here was so … direct. “I understand he does that.”
“More often than you know. How is Eric getting along?” Sarah asked.
Another direct question, but one welcomed. “Thank you for asking about him.” He needed someone watching out for him, someone powerful like Sarah. Alexander’s cavalier approach to him concerned her. ‘He seems … fine.” Fine. Such a weak word.
“Everyone here is important.”
She may be stepping over a line here, but she was worried about him. “He cares for Alexander though I don’t think Alexander sees it.”
Sarah smiled. “Alexander has so many people who want to be with him, sometimes he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”
Rebecca drew in a long breath. “Thank you for that. I haven’t wanted to say anything. Or even think it … ”
“Because that would be speaking badly about your Master.”
Her master? Sarah was right. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Rebecca, you may come to me anytime. Tell me anything. I’ll keep your secrets.”
That was the problem. She already had too many secrets.
Sarah looked at her in the mirror. “Many people are intimidated by Alexander, and sometimes he misses their true intention. It’s important to be straight with him at all times.”
“I am.”
“Good. Pass it on to Eric. I mean, if you will be continuing with him.”
Her heart hitched at the mere thought. “I don’t want him to go away.”
Sarah placed her hand on Rebecca’s arm. “Then tell Alexander. Otherwise, I think he’d keep you all to himself.” She chuckled a little.
In that second, with her words, Rebecca’s desires crystallized. She did want Eric in her life. She wanted Alexander, too. What she wasn’t sure about was this place. She’d been happier at the Wynter estate, as bizarre as that thought was. But she had a chance to choose—again. God love the Universe for giving her that gift.
“His life is complex,” Rebecca found herself saying.
“Yes. He has many people counting on him.”
“I hope he takes some time for himself, however.”
“I’m sure you can help him with that.” Sarah winked at her in the mirror.
A soft knock on the door sounded.
“Enter,” Sarah called.
That creepy Desiree was back. At least she wasn’t doing that spider crawl move straight out of a horror movie. She held out an envelope, which Sarah took and read.
“Oh, Alexander sends his apologies. He’s been called into a meeting that might last a few hours.”
Of course, he had.
“I’d like to wear this dress,” she found herself saying. This was Alexander’s life. She’d adjust—maybe.
33
“There you are.” Eric sidled up to Rebecca, who stared out the window over the terrace leading to the gardens. “Thinking of going out? Feeding the birds?”
“No need to feed them. He has staff.” She turned to him, an adorable scowl on her face. He chuckled. He’d been waiting for this moment. How do you prepare someone for the extent of Alexander’s life? You don’t.
“What?” She crossed her arms. “I’m fine. I just tried on fourteen ball gowns when I wasn’t drinking champagne. I’m feeling sorry for myself over nothing. I get to do that once a month. It’s good for the soul.”
“Oh?” He tugged her to him, her arms still crossed. “I know something else that’s good for the soul.”
“If it involves calling up a nail technician or having a personal stylist come measure me, I’ll revise my rules on never getting violent.”
“I wouldn’t dream of pampering you, Princess High Maintenance. I mean, my God, you expect to be fed every day.”
She let out a half-laug
h. “I know I sound terrible. Awful. Alexander was supposed to meet me and now he can’t.” She lifted a note.
“You’re the worst. Come for your spanking.”
She stepped back two steps. “What?”
“Kidding. You’re just bored. Restless.”
Her lips parted and her arms dropped. Bingo.
“You’re used to flying about, meeting deadlines, then rewarding yourself with bouts of self-care because you’ve earned it. Deprivation balanced out by indulgence. I’m familiar with the pattern.”
She let out a long sigh. “You’re right.” The furrows between her eyes smoothed. Double bingo.
“You’re also jealous.”
And, the forehead lines were back. She scoffed and waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She may be the Elf Queen On High around here, Alexander’s soul mate, or whatever else she believed in, but she had to learn something. Alexander was a hot commodity and always would be. “Alexander’s life guarantees he’s surrounded by people all the time. You’re going to have to get used to it.”
She swallowed. The truth never was easy.
“Consider me your truth-teller, along with your navigator,” he added.
“How do you do it? I mean, be so casual about this sharing thing.”
Eric shrugged. “I’m a realist. Getting ten percent of Alexander equals more care, acceptance, and love, than most people get in a lifetime.”
She forcibly sighed. Resignation, perhaps?
Her eyes softened. “If you ever leave me, Eric Morrison, I will hunt you down—”
“I thought you didn’t do violent.” Eric tugged her to into a half hug. “Come on. I have an idea. Let’s run away together.”
He’d been kidding, but her eyes sparkled and her lips, an unhappy line until then, curved up. She’d do it. “At least to the District line. There’s life outside these walls, you know.” He recognized that wild look in her eye, and didn’t that raise alarm bells? The zoo animals pacing their cages wore the same look.
Invincible (Elite Doms of Washington Book 6) Page 15