His Devil's Chains

by Linzi Basset

“Like hell I am.” Jack straightened and pinned Rosa with a piercing look. His heartbeat did a slow rat-a-tat inside his chest. “Stubborn little chit, you say?” His voice deepened and his dark eyes turned to orbs of shining black tar. “Did she happen to mention her name?”

  Rosa’s gaze sharpened on him, and her eyes narrowed. Jack felt his heels twitch like they used to in response to the kind of look she always gave him as a child when she’d caught him doing something naughty.

  “I didn’t ask, seeing as you instructed me to send her packing, I believe were the words you used.”

  “Yeah. I guess I better—”

  “Are you gonna keep me standing on the front steps the entire day, Jack Blackmore?”

  Jack slumped back against the kitchen counter as the sound of the sultry voice confirmed his suspicions. His groan was low and filled with a mixture of excitement and aggravation, which of course caused Rosa’s hands to land on her ample hips.

  She pinned him down with a reproachful glare. “Do not tell me I’ve been rude to a guest of yours, Jackie,” she accused belligerently.

  Jack cleared his throat. “Just because I know who she is, doesn’t mean she’s an invited guest, Rosa. On the contrary, I have no idea what she’s doing—”

  “No idea? Really, Master Black?” Jordan appeared behind Rosa and stared at him with an amused glimmer in her eyes over the much shorter woman’s head.

  “Good god, it is you,” Jack growled but couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked different outside of Club Devil’s Cove. Her hair hung in luxurious curls over her shoulders and she wore minimalistic makeup, meant to enhance and entice. Her lips were coated with a coral-colored balm that gave them a just kissed appearance.

  “Master Black?” Rosa, of course, hadn’t missed that. She looked at Jack with raised eyebrows, tapping her foot expectantly on the floor.

  Lord, save me from two demanding women!

  “Yes, Rosa, and don’t give me that look. You are well aware of my lifestyle.”

  “That may be, but you have never brought it home with you,” she asserted, rolling her eyes toward Jordan.

  “Nor have I this time, so stop glaring at me.”

  “I beg to differ.” Jordan placed her hands on Rosa’s shoulders, who surprisingly to Jack, didn’t immediately jump away from her. “Or did you happen to forget our arrangement, Sir?”

  “You know very well the arrangement is limited to the Club, Miss Clark,” Jack balked. He remembered the frittata in the oven and quickly took it out before sprinkling more cheese on top.

  “Well, under normal circumstances I would agree, but seeing as you cut the trial period from eight weeks to four—”

  “You thought to be forward enough to invite yourself to move into my house?”

  “Trial period?” Again, Rosa demanded an explanation with the searing look she shot at him.

  “Oh, for fuck sake!” Jack suddenly had the urge to roll his eyes as he became the intense scrutiny of the two women standing in the doorway.

  “Watch your language, Jack Blackmore! There are ladies present,” Rosa scolded.

  Jack’s dark look in their direction left no doubt in Jordan’s mind that he had doubts about Rosa’s statement—well, as far as she was concerned at any rate.

  How the fuck did my relaxing morning turn into a gateway to hell?

  The answer stared at him with a slight twitch of her pouty lips. His eyes narrowed in warning.

  “You find this amusing, Miss Clark?” The warning sounded like a clap of thunder through the kitchen. It very effectively wiped the smile from Jordan’s face.

  “Of course not and, please, my name is Jordan.”

  “I know what your name is, little snip.”

  “Well, I just had to make sure. I mean with someone of your advanced age, one never—”

  Rosa’s choking laughter drowned the rest of Jordan’s sentence. Jack could see the effort it took her to keep the smile at bay. His black gaze dropped to Rosa who immediately swallowed her mirth. She knew better than to prod a crouching tiger on the warpath.

  “Well, let me show you to one of the spare rooms, young lady.” Rosa started toward the stairs.

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary, Rosa. You can just point me to the master bedroom,” Jordan chirped brightly.

  “Over my fucking dead body,” Jack bellowed. “Put her in the room on the opposite side of the house from mine, Rosa!”

  “Is he always this grouchy so early in the morning?” Jordan’s amused voice floated back to him as they ascended the stairs.

  He snorted and quickly heated up a plate in the microwave.

  “And now my food is fucking cold,” he grumbled as he briefly chucked the skillet back into the oven to heat it.

  “I’ll be leaving, then,” Rosa said, reappearing in the kitchen a few minutes later. She picked up the keys to the Subaru that Jack had bought her.

  “Why? Where are you going,” he asked with a frown.

  “I was on my way to do the grocery shopping when Jordan arrived.”

  Oh, now it’s Jordan in a sweet, motherly voice, is it! Jack kept his irritation contained as he filled up his cup. “Drive safely,” he uttered automatically.

  “Always,” Rosa cooed, waved at Jordan who had just walked into the kitchen and within moments the purr of the SUV indicated her departure.

  “Oh, that looks scrumptious.” Jordan picked up a fork and reached toward the frittata, only to have her hand slapped away with a sharp sting.

  “Oww!” She yanked back her hand and gave him a hurt look as she pressed the abused appendage against her waist.

  “Hands off my breakfast.”

  Her eyes widened at his stern voice. “You’re not going to share with me?”

  “I take my frittata in the morning very serious, Miss Clark. No one touches it.”

  “Are you seriously not going to offer me some?”

  “No.”

  “Not even a teeny, weeny, tiny piece?”

  “Nope.”

  Jack did his best to ignore the slump of her shoulders when she leaned her hip against the counter.

  “I haven’t had breakfast, yet,” she said in a small voice.

  Jack noticed her tongue slicking over her lips. He chose to ignore the twitch in his cock at the glistening pout she presented to him.

  “That’s not my fault. Uninvited guests don’t deserve preferential treatment.” He tilted his head in the direction of the coffee machine. “But you’re welcome to some coffee.”

  “I’ll have you know, Jack Blackmore, that only coffee is anything but nutritious as a meal,” she grumbled but filled a cup to the rim.

  “Here,” Jack chucked a bagged loaf of rye bread at her. She deftly caught it with one hand. “Make yourself some toast. There’s cheese in the fridge.”

  “Never pegged the mighty Master Black as such a snarky, parsimonious Scrooge,” Jordan mumbled as she loaded eight slices of bread into the toaster.

  “Did you say something?” Jack did his best to keep the amusement from his voice, let alone the amazement at the amount of toast she was preparing.

  “I mean really! Would it kill him to give me one measly little slice of his precious frittata? One would swear it contains ribbons of gold!” she continued, unperturbed, in the same soft undertone.

  Jack’s lips curved into a delighted smile. It seemed his immediate future would be filled with entertaining wit and sparring from the overly bratty woman who blatantly ignored him as she grated, what looked like pounds of cheese, over the heavily buttered slices of toast. She went scouring the fridge, and Jack shook his head in astonishment as he watched her add a copious amount of crumbled feta on top before she placed it under the grill in the oven.

  “Hm, now that looks yummy,” she cooed as she bent over at her knees to stare through the oven window. “Perfect!”

  Jack had difficulty swallowing as heat seared through his veins at the sight of her delectable derrière encased in a tight pair of
jeans, offering him an enticing glimpse of the aperture between her thighs. He envisioned her in that position bare-ass naked. His testosterone spiked and settled to a heavy throb in his loins. He shifted on the barstool, tugging on his jeans that suddenly felt a size too small in certain places.

  Jordan settled on the chair opposite him and immediately started eating. She closed her eyes as she chewed. An expression of pure bliss lingered on her features.

  “Are you gonna eat all of that?” Jack couldn’t hold back the question any longer as another piece, of what had turned into a mouthwatering melted cheese concoction, disappeared from the plate.

  She glanced at him as she took a sip of her coffee. “Of course. I told you I haven’t had breakfast and I’m hungry.”

  “You have more than half a loaf of bread on that plate. Not to mention two pounds of cheese,” he continued as he chewed on the bite of frittata he’d just taken.

  “So?” She pointed at his plate with her fork. “If you had offered to share at least one slice of your precious frittata with me, I wouldn’t have had to slather my stomach with so much fatty cheese.” She forked another piece of toast into her mouth and mumbled with a full mouth. “If I get fat, you only have yourself to blame.”

  His eyes did a quick foray over her shoulders and bountiful breasts. “Somehow, I doubt you’ll ever get fat. Do you always eat this much?”

  Her shoulders shifted in a symphonic movement. “I don’t count calories, if that’s what you want to know. I eat when I’m hungry and until I’m full but I stay away from junk food. Except salt and vinegar crisps. I have a weakness for them. Ugh, I can eat bags of the stuff in one day.”

  She glanced at him as she noticed him following each bite that disappeared into her mouth. It caused a thrill of excitement to rush down her spine. Mighty Jack Blackmore might appear unaffected by her, but the glimmer in his eyes and the rigid line of his jaw sent a different message.

  “I’m willing to swap,” she lilted. She lifted a piece of toast and held it up; a quirky smile formed on her lips. “A slice for a slice.”

  Jack took another bite and chewed leisurely. “Two,” he said, watching her with heated eyes.

  “You’re willing to give up two?”

  “No. You are. For one of mine.”

  “That hardly seems fair.” She shot a measured look at him, surprised to notice that he now appeared completely relaxed.

  “One slice of my frittata has more nutrition and is more filling than two of yours. Take it or leave it.”

  Jordan didn’t hesitate. She immediately slipped two slices of melted cheese toast onto his plate and held out hers expectantly. The crooked smile on his lips turned wicked.

  “And I want your top and bra off.”

  “What!” Jordan glanced around the kitchen and through the wide windows that faced the gorgeous gardens. She noticed two gardeners hard at work cleaning the flowerbeds.

  “You heard me.”

  “You said … I thought that kind of thing would only be happening at the Club,” she protested.

  “Yes, normally it would, but you’re the one who decided to bring it to my house, weren’t you?” His gaze sharpened and within a blink of an eye, Jack Blackmore turned into the formidable Master Black who she had no defense against. “I’m waiting, Jordan.”

  Ah, crap! Did he have to use my name? And in that dark Dom voice of his!

  It was the first time he used her first name. Jordan was shaken at the effect it had on her. The way he rolled his tongue around the ‘r’ and dragged out the ‘n’ at the end tickled every nerve ending to sizzle on her skin. They vibrated at his smooth voice that flowed over her like a lover’s caress.

  “But your gardeners …” She glanced outside. The two men were hard at work and from that distance, offered no threat at all, but she had to try.

  Jack didn’t bother to look around. “Let’s get this out of the way, right now. When I give you an instruction, whether it’s here or at the club, I expect you to react. Immediately. For every order I have to repeat, you will be punished and, believe me, I’ll find the one thing you hate.”

  Jordan’s lacey, pink bra fluttered to land on top of the flowery top she’d flung on the counter.

  “There! Satisfied?”

  Jack’s lips twitched as she crossed her arms over her chest, effectively hiding the bountiful breasts from his view.

  “Hardly.” He placed a generous slice of the frittata on her plate. “Secondly, Jordan, by insisting on this trial D/s relationship, you have offered your body to me. It now belongs to me. It’s mine to do with as I please when I want. Don’t ever hide it from me. When you’re naked, you will make sure my eyes have full access to all your womanly bits. Is that understood?”

  What the hell have I gotten myself into? Jordan silently bemoaned her self-inflicted fate.

  “Yes, Sir,” she snapped.

  “Jack. At home, you’ll use my name. Except when we’re having sex. Then I’ll always be your Master.”

  “How is this different? It sure as hell feels like your mastering me now.”

  “I’ll always be the Dominant one in this relationship, Jordan. You need to decide if you are a true submissive and if it’s what you need. Because if not, this trial of yours is going to be very brief.”

  “A submissive or a slave?” she grumbled irritably. She picked up her fork and continued to eat, conscious of how her breasts perked. Her nipples stood hard and erect under his blatant appreciation.

  “I don’t expect you to fall at my feet and grovel before me. We’ll have a normal relationship outside the club. I don’t want you to turn into a yes Jack, no Jack, kind of woman. In fact, I’m looking forward to sparring with you, but don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t exert my Dominance over you when I see fit.”

  “Like now.”

  “Exactly.” Jack bit into the toasted cheese bread and smacked his lips in appreciation. “Very tasty. What spice did you add to the cheese?”

  “Some Italian spice with garlic flakes. I’ve never seen that specific combination. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  “Are you a good cook?”

  “I suppose. My preference is baking, though. I’d much rather bake a cake, bread, or cookies than spend hours in front of the stove on a stew.”

  Jack kept the conversation light and humorous, and soon Jordan was relaying tales of her youth without realizing she had opened a door to him she’d sworn to keep locked. She clamped her mouth shut and stuffed it full of food as an excuse not to talk. She couldn’t afford to lower her guard. There was too much at stake.

  Yeah, right! How the hell am I gonna do that if he has the ability to sneak past all the locks I’ve put in place?

  Jordan didn’t feel confident that she’d be able to keep her secrets from Jack. He was a Dom and a damn powerful one at that. He had already proven he could see right through her. She had no doubt he’d smell a lie a mile away, and she already had a feeling he suspected she was hiding something from him. It worried her. A hell of a lot. Especially as the stupid—until now denied—submissive, deep inside her soul, seemed to react instinctively to his Dominance.

  Her head snapped up as the sound of a vehicle approaching drew her attention. She reached for her bra.

  “No.”

  “But someone is coming! What if it’s Rosa!”

  “I’m sure Rosa knows what a woman looks like naked,” Jack said.

  “Jack, please, I—” She looked toward the door that led to the garage. A car door slammed. “What if it’s someone else?” she squeaked.

  He shrugged and tipped back his head to finish his coffee. “It’s probably Max and Joanne. He said they’d pop in this morning. He has seen your delightful tits before, so, relax.”

  “That’s different.” Her voice thinned as footsteps neared the door. “This is different. I … fuck no.” The door handle moved.

  “Jordan, get back here,” Jack bellowed. His fists landed on his hips as he leaned back on the ba
rstool to watch her run away. The wide smile on his lips belied the dark tone in his voice as he watched her heels disappear into the hallway.

  “Oh, hell, Jo-baby, your brother has finally lost the plot.”

  Max’s taunt drew Jack’s head around. He didn’t bother to hide his mirth from them.

  “What are you doing, sitting here all by your lonesome, grinning like a lovestruck baboon?” Max looked around. “Hm … what have we here? I never figured you for a floral kind of guy, mate.” He fingered the silky material of the top on the counter.

  “Jack! You have a woman here? Are you feeling okay?” Joanne skirted around the breakfast nook to press her palm against his forehead. She looked at Max. “He feels a little warm, honey. Maybe we should take him to Ethan.”

  “I suggest you move your interfering little ass, sis. You might be pregnant but a few palm prints on your behind wouldn’t hurt.”

  “And grumpy,” Joanne lilted, but she quickly put distance between them to hide under Max’s protective arm.

  “This is quite an interesting turn of events, mate. First, you commit to a D/s relationship—”

  “A trial,” Jack corrected him succinctly.

  “Oh, excuse me.” Max did a quirky curtsy. “And the very next day we find you cheating on said trial sub already! Not cool, mate. Not cool at all.”

  “Not that I need to explain myself to you, Maximillian, but just to ensure there are no future misunderstandings, I will. First of all, I made it very clear that it’s a trial in front of the members of the club, and that it’s a non-exclusive one. Hence, I don’t need to explain who and when I fuck anyone.”

  “Yeeeah,” Max dragged out the word, staring at Jack. “What say you, baby? Jackie doth protest too much, doesn’t he? Hey! That fucking knife is sharp!” Max deftly caught the butter knife Jack tossed at him.

  “Out with it, Jack. Whose clothes are these?” Joanne prodded. She grabbed the knife from Max who was aiming to throw it back at Jack and placed it in the sink. “You two are like naughty little boys,” she quipped. She pinned Jack down with a questioning look. “I’m waiting, brother dear.”

  “They’re mine,” Jordan said from the door as she brazenly walked back into the kitchen. Her arms were crossed demurely over her breasts as she picked them up. “I’ll just take these with me.”