by Jaci Burton
Why hadn’t she locked her bedroom door last night and taken care of this edge, about fifty times or so? Maybe because Nate and Talia had been sleeping with her, Talia having another of her nightmares, Nate’s asthma acting up a bit.
“Master? What does that mean?” She tried for sarcasm this time, even as her body seemed to know exactly what it meant. Because it had shifted into defensive mode, backing up without her permission to do so, her limbs trembling. If she hadn’t been wearing the corset, he would have seen her nipples as large and proud as he’d suggested. “And I thought your intention was to make me come, not sexually frustrate me.”
When his hands closed on her hips, just below the tight cinching of the waist, gripping her hard there, it drove the breath from her. Despite herself, both hands ended up on his chest, curled into the shirt, her forehead pressed to his shoulder, trying to get a grip on herself. What was the matter with her?
“Don’t faint on me.” His voice held tenderness, laced with something far more serious, inexorable. His hand passed down her back, an easy, soothing stroke that she wished was finding skin, rather than the hard shell of the corset. Her fingers tightened on his shirt, feeling the slope of iron pectorals. “You know what I think, Cass? Ask me. Speak to me.”
“I don’t want to. W-what?”
His smile pulled against her cheek, but from the stillness of his body, she didn’t think he was any more amused by her petulance than she was. “Somewhere along the line the corset became about something more than your need to control your life. The binding of the corset was the substitute for a lover’s restraint, holding you, gripping you. The way it pushes your breasts up so high, like hands cupping them. You’re waiting for release from the one man who can also release you from the corset, who will replace its restraint with his own. Your master. Your lover.”
“Sounds like a chauvinistic delusion,” she muttered faintly. “Dog collars and leashes.”
“Most of those who crave dominance or submission can’t walk around in leather cracking whips, Cass, or hang out at underground clubs. They’re people like you and me, and it’s a need as old as the need for love. In all its crazy, perverse forms.”
Lifting his head, he tilted her chin to caress her lips with his thumb, that romantic gesture he did so well, his other fingers tugging on the hold of the cashmere ribbon collar. “Don’t bolt on me. Not from the truth. If it helps, tell yourself you’re pretending, that it’s all role playing, an exciting sex game. I’ve put that vibrator on your clit because I want you to sit in the board room, surrounded by the K&A team. I want to watch the rigid way you hold your body, even more than the corset requires, because you’ll be fighting not to come. It isn’t about you begging me to stop. It’s about feeling safe enough to beg permission to let go. And I will let you release before the day ends. On my terms.”
As she did indeed think about bolting, he lifted a brow, the gray eyes sparking with a mesmerizing mixture of desire and resolve. A challenge. “You walk away at the end of the day. That’s our agreement, right? So what do you have to lose? Now—” he changed gears smoothly—“one other gift. I thought they’d go with the theme of today’s meeting.”
His touch eased, became a stroke down her arms. When he opened the other side of the blue box, she was looking at four bracelets. Cuffs of beaten silver, beautiful in their simple purity, the edges smooth and rounded. On each there appeared to be Japanese characters.
When he snapped them closed on each wrist they were a snug fit. Then he knelt and put the other two, which were thinner, on her ankles. She hadn’t worn any jewelry except a pair of silver earrings, so the anklets and bracelets added an exotic touch that felt exactly like she suspected he intended them to feel. Unbidden, she somehow imagined herself as a slave bought at auction, her master putting on the symbols of his ownership with strong, caressing hands that also said she was his. That he would care for her, cherish her. And she would serve him however he asked.
His gaze rose, paused on her throat then, the mark they both knew was there. “Believe me, I was tempted to get you a collar,” he said, low. “But one step at a time. You ready?”
Cass started out of the fragments of fantasy that had taken over her head, returning her to this corporate office, the Baton Rouge skyline, and the reality of who she was, what her life was. She shook her head, started to back away, though he’d retained one of her hands. “I’ve stepped over a line I never really should have crossed. I can’t, Lucas. This is too much.” She tried to unlock a bracelet, found she couldn’t locate the mechanism.
“Cassandra.” He stopped her. “Answer me this. Are you aroused?”
She looked away. “You know I am. But—”
Guiding her face back to him with a hand she couldn’t shake, he held her there. “Your cunt is wet because I want it that way. I’m going to work you throughout this meeting until you can’t do anything but think about how much you want to come, because that’s what I want, too. And you’re going to submit to it, because your body and your mind need a Master to really let go. Maybe even your heart. For the next two hours, you obey me. Can you trust me that much? Because that’s what this is about. You’re very intelligent, Cass. You know a woman gets the maximum amount of sexual pleasure when her mind is as engaged as her body. That’s the focus here.”
For women, the physical and emotional both were key to great sex. Just sex. She did know that. So did he. So was she overreacting? Everything was still within the parameters she’d set. And what had he said? Pretend, if it made it easier. She wasn’t an idiot. There was a double-edged sword there, and he wanted more from her than she wanted to give, but she was in fact so turned on she couldn’t think straight. She did want to trust him. For the first time in a very long time, she wanted to trust a man not to hurt her, break her.
“I don’t let go of control to anyone.”
“You will to me.”
Last night, in imagining what he might have planned today until she was aching and wet, she’d told herself this was the ultimate test of control. She wore a corset every day of her working life to remind her how important it was to hold the reins, remain even-tempered, clear-headed. What more ultimate test could be devised than one that tapped into one of her more private fantasies? Should she deny herself, just because one man was intuitive enough to ferret them out and she was embarrassed?
Straightening and stepping away from him, she arranged her clipped hair properly on her shoulder, smoothed her hands down the front of the form-hugging sweater. “Shall we go, then?”
His fierce gaze grew even headier as his full lips lifted in a smile. God, like she needed a reminder of what he could do with those lips. Retrieving a folder from the desk, he opened the office door for her, gestured her to precede him.
As she stepped out the door, the feeling returned. Like she was something entirely different from Cassandra Moira, negotiations specialist from Pickard Consulting. She had decorative cuffs on her wrists and ankles she couldn’t remove, and was wearing a sex toy that was teasing her clit and anus with every sauntering, pendulum stride she made. A stride dictated by teetering heels and a wasp-waisted corset he’d run his hands over appraisingly as if he’d laced her into it himself. She did feel like a nameless, exotic sex slave, being brought by her master to a public forum for display. It gave her a shiver of erotic longing that shocked her, even as she knew he’d promised nothing that happened in the board room would be known to the others.
Oh, hell. Enough with the fantasies. He’d promised her release, but she wasn’t fooled. This part was about control. He wanted her to shake her head at him, ask him to stop. Depend on him for control of her own body. Her mind told her she wouldn’t let him win, while her body and soul clamored for just that. She wanted this claiming, far too much.
Six
“Good morning, Miss Moira.” Matt pulled out a chair from the long side of the lotus-shaped conference table. “It’s good to have you back among us. There’s coffee and some m
uffins if you need anything.”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” Cass noted Jon and Peter were conferring on some point at the end of the table, though both rose with pleasant nods when she entered, taking their seats only after she did. Ben gave her a friendly smile and a wink, though he was on his cell in the corner.
“Lucas, they’ve got you set up in the audiovisual booth over there, if you want to check it and get ready to run your stat sheets.” Matt gestured. “The mic’s open so you should be able to hear us, and just hit the speaker if you need to change anything.”
She’d wondered about the ear wig, but now it became clear. A set of panels had been removed one wall, revealing a glassed-in equipment room that apparently controlled the high-tech audiovisual aids Matt and his team had available to them.
It was also strategic. She could imagine during videoconferences that Lucas’s positioning in the booth would allow him to make observations about the meeting to Matt privately, through something like her ear wig. Which meant Lucas could talk to her during this meeting without anyone else hearing him. He’d just added another weapon to his arsenal.
Lucas left her with a courteous nod and a lingering touch on her shoulder. “Enjoy the meeting,” he said. She took his words as the threat she was certain they were.
As she got herself settled, trying to relax and not think about when he’d turn on the device he had seated so snugly against her most intimate places, the windows were darkened. Nine of the twelve screens on the opposite wall became one image. When it flickered, they were looking into a conference room a world away. She noted the circle of five Japanese managers, with a female translator there to interpret nuances of meaning if needed, since she knew all of them spoke fluent English. As Matt thanked them for extending their workday, since the time difference in Tokyo made it evening there, Lucas apparently decided it was the perfect time to test her reception.
“Cass, do me a favor.” His warm voice was so clear, it was as if he were right there next to her. “Spread out your notes the way you want them, then place your ankles against the front legs of your chair. Lay your arms on the armrests. Make sure you’re comfortable that way.”
She wondered if he was going to tease her with further fantasies, tell her to imagine that she was bound and not move her hands. She could agree to that, for if they were already curved over the ends of the chair arms, she wouldn’t have to embarrass herself with an obvious need to grip something for calm. Complying, she glanced toward the glassed-in booth. To all appearances, he was absorbed in setting up the presentation.
A faint vibration shuddered through the wood under her arms and behind her calves, a barely there impression gone before she could analyze it, but Lucas supplied the explanation. “You’re going to find you can’t lift your hands or ankles now. There are powerful magnets in the bracelets, matching those embedded in the chair.”
Alarmed, she tried, discreetly, and found he was correct. “Let me go,” she said between her teeth, in a whisper.
“No. I want you restrained, your legs open so you’ll feel the stimulation that much more intensely. Don’t worry. If someone asks you something and you need to move, I can release you instantly. And so you’re not focused on that . . .”
No. She knew he was going to do it, but still, she wasn’t ready for the sensual ripple over her clit, the tickling featherlike sensation along her anal rim that made her want to squirm.
“You’re beautiful, Cassie.” That voice continued, soothing but ruthless as he’d promised, teasing her mind. “Sitting there, so straight and elegant in your corset, your hands on the arms of the chair like a queen. You’ve got a light flush on your neck and cheeks from your irritation with me, your nervousness, but also from the stimulation between your legs, the feel of the panty stroking your pussy. Do you wish it was my tongue? I do. If I get you alone today, I’m going to hold you down and eat my fill, until you’ve come in my mouth. And then I’m going to put my cock in there, fill you deep and hard . . .”
She lifted helpless eyes to him. He had his head down, checking his notes, his lips barely moving. She needed to see his eyes, know that he was with her. Strange that she told him she wanted it to be just sex, but she needed the sense of connection.
He stilled. “Cass?”
Had she said his name? She stole a look down the table to where the other members of the team were busy with Matt. “Look at me,” she whispered.
When he lifted his head, she wasn’t sure what she was seeking, but she found it in the riveting focus on her face, his tautly held jaw.
“You’re okay, Cassie. I’m here. I’m only going to bring you pleasure, I promise.”
Glancing down, she pretended to look at her notes. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you’ve had this fantasy. Of someone mastering you, of the possibility of being watched while you’re pleasured.”
“Fantasy and reality are two different things.”
“I’m going to make the reality better than the fantasy.”
She shifted, pretty certain he’d already accomplished that. Her movement resulted in a wave of sensations that gave her an irresistible compulsion to rock. As she swore softly, she saw the desire increase in his gaze.
“I want to take you to lunch after this. Lie you down on my bed afterward and make love to you for hours. When you’re tired, you’ll sleep in my arms. I’ll feed you from my fingers.”
“Stop it,” she muttered. “What do the symbols on the bracelet mean?”
“What do you want them to mean?” When she didn’t respond, he pressed on, the voice in her ear relentless, temptation itself. “Pretend, Cassie. Pretend that you don’t have to worry about what happens when you walk away from here. Pretend like you have time to do whatever you want, with whomever you want. What do you want them to say?”
She wanted them to say things scribed by adolescents on beaded bracelets when feelings ran so close to the top, so hard, furious, and bright they burned out quickly, the bracelet cast away, forgotten. It was ironic, considering those feelings were felt far longer when one was older, deep enough to scar. By then fear and doubt made them impossible to say, restrained like her body in the corset.
Business precepts didn’t necessarily translate to personal relationships. But both she and Lucas were in the business of knowing people, sizing them up. Apparently Lucas understood her well enough after no more than a day, plus one stolen episode in a forest, that he’d coaxed her into this, holding her on a taut line between mortification and mounting arousal. The world was full of fools. As she met his intent look, she knew she must be one of them, because she’d never wanted to put herself in someone’s hands like this, believe in him.
“All right, let’s get started.” Matt dimmed the lights further, took his seat at the head of the table, and they initiated the conference. Above the one image, the top three screens shifted between individual members of the Japanese team as they spoke. She tried to balance the distraction of her straining body by identifying each and reviewing in her mind what she knew of them. The translator was a typical Asian beauty, elegant in a form-fitting pale green business suit, her obsidian eyes thickly lashed and sharp. Her long dark hair was bound in a heavy jeweled net, low on a slim neck.
As Ben ran down the points, the lawyer on the Japanese side began to respond, checking different facts as they went along. All standard due diligence for the paperwork they’d sign later today to put everything in forward drive. Ending this. On Wednesday, she’d be on to the next job, as would Lucas.
“Getting bored, Cass?” That soft whisper, and the vibration started to increase.
The financials were up on the right wall screen for everyone’s review. She managed to process a question Matt posed, then follow Ben’s response. Jon and Peter were studying the numbers, Jon making some clarifying points regarding engineering impact. Her fingers were tight on the chair arms, she realized, her toes curling in her shoes as her thigh muscles grew taut. She couldn’t c
lose her legs, not with her ankles held by those slim cuffs. Thank goodness it was all below the table surface. She remembered the way Lucas had looked at her neck, as if he’d wished he could put an actual collar there, like these bracelets.
The “just sex” mantra was getting forced. Even as she told herself that was what they’d shared so far, the truth was he’d used sex to crack open a layer beneath. He’d taken their sexual interactions behind her battle lines into some deep emotional territory. Her current situation merely underscored it. This wasn’t a quick spontaneous screw from a bar pickup.
It was absurd. She’d just met him. Of course, she knew that emotions weren’t based on fact finding, data gathering. On whether a man preferred OJ or tomato juice in the morning. Hockey or baseball. If he left his socks on the floor or wanted to go camping on a holiday. She’d always wanted to do that. How would he feel about doing it with five kids?
Ah, Jesus. Just focus on this, Cass. Even if he cracked her like an egg, she’d have to settle for just sex. Great sex with a gorgeous man, maybe even a nice dinner, and she’d walk away. How could she complain about that?
“Looks like I’m going to have to work a little harder to keep your attention. Think we’ll make this . . . adjustment.”
The ripple changed to a sporadic undulating stroke. With her own moisture limning it, holy saints and angels, it felt remarkably like . . .
“It feels like a tongue, doesn’t it? Imagine it’s my tongue, lapping up your juices, my fingers playing around your ass, making you wiggle and squirm on my face, rubbing yourself there. Your scent. You’re trying not to rub your ass against the chair, trying not to rock, though you want to, so badly. You want to pretend it’s me. Want it to be me.”
She tossed back her hair, trying to look casual, indifferent, and of course, that jolt of motion sent a response rocketing through her clit, down her thighs, up the center of her body. The corset was so tight it made it more intense, increasing the aching pressure in her stomach, her chest. Maybe it was good he’d spread her legs like this, for if her thighs were closed, the urge to squeeze them together, bring herself to climax, would be nigh unbearable.
