For His Pleasure

by Shelly Bell

  Although she was calm and collected at the moment, her eyes were glassy as if she’d been crying.

  “I’m sorry I asked you to lie to the guard and say you were Ryder McKay,” she said, taking his jacket and hanging it up in the coat closet. “I thought it would be better not to have any written evidence of your visit here.”

  “I get it,” he said, kicking off his wet shoes and leaving them by the door.

  The guard in the lobby hadn’t blinked when Cash had given Ryder’s name or when Cash signed in as Ryder in the guest registry. Hopefully, Dreama’s friend didn’t make an unannounced visit tonight.

  She turned from the closet and faced him. Her lips were trembling and her skin was about two shades paler than usual. But there was also a quiet determination about her in the steel of her spine and the rigidness of her jaw.

  He fought the impulse to take her in his arms, hold her tight, and promise her whatever was wrong, they’d face it together. “What’s going on, Dreama?”

  She squared her shoulders and gestured with a tip of her head. “Come with me.”

  He followed her farther into the apartment, noticing that although she was still in her suit, she’d taken off her pantyhose, leaving her shapely legs bare.

  Her place was kind of a mess and for some reason, he found it endearing that she hadn’t tried to hide it. Clothes hung off the back of the couch, pillows and a comforter lay on the carpet, and mail and some junk food covered the coffee table. Her apartment was like a window into Dreama’s soul. And he liked it. He liked it a lot.

  Cash averted his eyes when she bent over to pick up something on the floor. As much as it pained him, he sensed now was not a good time to ogle her ass.

  She thrust whatever it was in his direction. “Here.”

  He snagged the item out of her hands. At first, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. It was a grainy 8 x 10 black-and-white photograph. As he examined it more closely, he recognized the figures as him and Dreama. “This is from outside Club X.”

  “Turn it over.”

  Stop looking into Cash’s case or next time my car won’t miss.

  Fuck. He’d always heard the expression shivers down the spine, but until now, he’d never experienced it. While he appreciated Dreama’s dedication to helping him, he wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to her. “You need to call the police.”

  It was the rational thing to do.

  Which is why Dreama shocked the hell out of him with her next word.

  “No.”

  Dreama had given herself five minutes to cry and panic over the photo before she’d shut it down. She wouldn’t allow herself to be a victim again. That meant she needed to stay in control and take a logical approach. Whoever sent her the photo intended on scaring her, and she’d be damned if she gave in to emotional blackmail.

  Cash’s jaw dropped in response to her refusal to call the police. “No? What do you mean, no? This photo is obviously a threat.” He held it out to her. “Look at the angle. The person who took the picture was most likely the driver who tried to mow you down.”

  “I know.” She’d figured that out on her own. “But as of Friday night, there were only a couple of people other than you and me who knew that we’re looking into the evidence of your case—Stephen Browner and my boss, Meg. And as much as Meg despises me, she wouldn’t follow me to a club and try to run me over or send me this photo to get me to drop the matter. She’d just fire me.”

  Cash remained quiet as her words sank in. “That leaves Stephen Browner.”

  “Right.” She plopped herself down on the couch and patted the cushion beside her. She understood why Cash would want to call the police, but she had to convince him it was the wrong thing to do. Right now, his shoulders were up to his ears. If they were going to solve this mystery, they needed to look at things calmly, rather than based on emotion.

  He took her up on her implied offer to sit next to her on the couch. “He already called your boss once. If he wanted you off my case, why wouldn’t he send this photo to her? Why almost kill you with a car?”

  “I don’t know why he didn’t send it to Meg,” Dreama said, noticing the black bra she’d worn yesterday resting on the couch cushion behind her. She quickly tossed it over the side and out of view. “Maybe because it would implicate him as the person behind the wheel?” There were pieces of the puzzle missing, but she was certain they were on to something. “Besides, we don’t know that the driver ever intended to actually hit me with his vehicle. It could have been a scare tactic.”

  “Whether he meant to hit you or not, you’re clearly in danger.” Cash surged to his feet. “That’s why you need to report this to the police.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not calling the police. If I do, there’s no doubt Meg will fire me and you might never learn the truth.” She wouldn’t allow anyone to stop her. Not even Cash.

  She’d become a parole officer to help people. What better way than to prove Cash might have been innocent? Besides, she wasn’t doing this just for him. Because of her phobia of touch, she needed to prove to herself that she wasn’t going to live her life in fear, and that’s exactly what she’d be doing if she gave in to the photographer’s attempt at emotional terrorism.

  “The photo only shows we were at the club at the same time,” he pointed out. “We weren’t even together in the picture.”

  “We could swear up and down that it was a coincidence, but it won’t matter to Meg.” She was just waiting for a reason to fire Dreama.

  Cash blew out a breath and ran his hand over his head as he sat back down. “Is this job worth more than your life?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But if I give in to him, what’s to keep me from giving in to the next bully I go against? And the next?”

  He dropped his chin to his chest and let out a loud sigh. It gave her optimism that he had understood why she wouldn’t call the police. “What if I ask for another parole officer? That should appease Browner for the time being, right?”

  “Meg would want to know why. She’d use it against me somehow, probably tie it to my prying into your case.”

  His eyes narrowed on her. “You say you won’t let bullies intimidate you, but that’s exactly what you’re doing with Meg. You’re giving her more power than she deserves. Stop worrying so much about Meg and focus on what you need to do for yourself.”

  Strands of her hair fell across her face as she looked at him. What he didn’t understand was that by helping him, she was already focusing on what she needed to do for herself. “You’re right that I worry too much about Meg. But that doesn’t change how I feel about going to the police. Please, just give me a few more days,” she pleaded. “Finn is still planning on researching Browner’s record and Ryder has an appointment with him tomorrow. As far as Browner’s concerned, he’ll think I’ve dropped it.”

  Cash was silent for a long time, so long she was sure he wouldn’t agree.

  “Fine,” he finally said. “As long as the threats stop, I’ll keep you as my parole officer. But one more threat and we’re calling the cops.”

  “Deal.” She smiled as she waved her hand. “I’d shake on it but…”

  But that was one fear that had her in its grip.

  She couldn’t control her phobia of a man’s touch, but at least she wasn’t giving in to all her other fears. And she was afraid. Afraid that she’d lose a job that meant so much to her. Afraid whoever had sent her the photo would try to hurt her. Afraid the man who’d attacked her with the baseball bat was still out there. She couldn’t deny all of that. But helping Cash—just being around Cash—made it easier to be strong.

  Cash clasped his hands together. “How are you doing otherwise? You were pretty shaken up after your mom’s call, but you seem fine now.”

  She shook her head. “I know she thought it was best to hear it from her, but honestly, a part of me wonders if she wanted me to be scared in order to convince me to move back home with her.”

&
nbsp; “Would moving in with her be so bad?” he asked.

  Dreama’s fingers curled into the palms of her hands. Her mother treated her as if she were a toddler, incapable of taking care of herself. “When I got out of the rehabilitation center, I stayed with my parents. One day I realized that I was hiding there and if I remained there for much longer, that meant my attacker had won because I was too afraid to live on my own.” She hopped up from the couch. “I refuse to let my fear get the best of me.”

  It was damned hard to do, especially with all the anxiety she’d experienced since her attack. That’s why it was so important for her to fight against it and not give in.

  She slid her hand over her collarbone and down between her breasts. His eyes tracked her hand and his tongue slid across his lower lip. Even though she and Cash couldn’t touch, his reaction gave her a thrill.

  “The old Dreama loved to touch and be touched,” she said. “She found power and strength through her submission. I miss it, Cash. It’s like losing a limb. I’m not a stranger to anxiety, but before my attack, I had an outlet for it. I’ve tried every conventional method of beating my phobia, but nothing’s worked.”

  Silent, he stood from the couch and walked away from her. When he reached the wall, he flipped around to face her. “There was a dog brought to the PAWS program who wouldn’t allow anyone to pet his head,” he said. “Anywhere else on his body was fine, but go near his head and he’d bite. Before he’d been rescued and taken to the shelter, his owner had burned his face with cigarettes. My sister asked me to help desensitize him. We bonded pretty quickly. Leon—that was the dog’s name—was as sweet as could be and smart too. Every day, I moved my hand a little closer to his face, and if he didn’t snap at me, I’d give him a treat. It took three weeks before he let me pet the top of his snout.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about. “That’s a great story, Cash. But I’m not a dog.”

  “No, but the psychology is the same.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  He squared his shoulders and stared into her eyes. “You said conventional therapy hasn’t helped. What if you tried something unconventional? Let me help you beat your phobia. Let me Dominate you.”

  Her pulse began to race and she wasn’t yet sure whether it was from fear or excitement. “How? You can’t even touch me.”

  “You know better than me that Domination doesn’t require touch,” he said. “We’ll build up to it. Start slow and desensitize you just like I did with Leon.”

  She’d learned about desensitization in one of her psychology classes, but it had never occurred to her to try it.

  She dragged her fingers through her hair and went behind the couch, where she paced the length of it, picking up clothes along the way. There were a lot of things to consider. Would she even want Cash to dominate her?

  Watching her, he rested his back against the wall and folded his arms. The thought of him standing over her with a flogger in his hand shot heat throughout her core.

  No problems there.

  She dropped her clothes into a pile by the couch, then cleaned the junk food off the coffee table and carried it into the kitchen. Suddenly parched, she grabbed two bottles of water and returned to the family room. They needed to talk this out.

  Standing in front of Cash, she thrust a bottle in his direction. “If we do this, we’re crossing a line we can never uncross.”

  Of course, they’d already crossed the line the moment they’d gotten themselves off in front of each other at Club X.

  He snagged the water from her hand. “No matter how long we fought this thing between us”—he lowered his head, delivering both a promise and a threat—“you and I were inevitable.”

  FIFTEEN

  Dreama shivered even as Cash’s words lit a fire inside her.

  Cash had called them inevitable.

  Maybe he was right.

  She’d only met him last week, but it felt as if she’d known him forever. There was a connection between them she couldn’t deny. Her throat was dry and her body was pounding with arousal. She stared up at him, unable to speak in that moment.

  “Think about my offer. You don’t need to make the decision tonight,” he said gently. He pushed himself off the wall. “I should go.”

  She wasn’t sure about much at the moment, but she did know him leaving was the last thing she wanted.

  He turned from her, but before taking a single step, she finally found her voice. “What if I said I don’t want you to?”

  Her heart hammered wildly as he spun around and faced her.

  “I don’t need to think about it,” she said, feeling confident that she was making the right decision. “I want you to Dominate me.” She flung off her suit jacket, then unbuttoned the top of her sheer white blouse. “Stay.”

  Time and time again, he’d proven himself to be protective, first defending her to the security guard in her office building, then pushing her out of the way of a speeding car, and again tonight, trying to convince her to report the photo to the police. She’d witnessed his affinity for dogs, and he spoke of his sister with true affection in his voice. Cash Turner was the last person she should fall for, but she had come to trust him more than anyone else in her life.

  This was happening.

  She popped another button on her blouse, giving him a sneak peek of her cleavage.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  She was confused. “Don’t you want me to…you know…undress?”

  “No, not tonight. Tonight, we’re going to keep our clothes on and talk.”

  That was his idea of domination? “We already know each other,” she said somewhat petulantly. She wasn’t going to make it easy for Cash to top her. He had to earn her submission. She didn’t see how he was going to accomplish that through a conversation.

  His eyes darkened. “You know me as your parolee. You might even know me as your friend. But, sweetheart, you don’t know the first thing about me as a man. Lesson number one, I make the rules, and unless you choose to use your safe word, you will follow those rules. Try to top from the bottom and I’ll punish you.”

  She smirked. He was forgetting she was a masochist.

  His expression hardened. “I’m guessing you’re the type of sub who acts like a brat in order to get a punishment. Don’t think you can manipulate me, Dreama. The minute you do, I’ll end the scene. I’m not the kind of man who takes control from a woman. This only works if you give it to me willingly.” He moved closer to her. “Trust me, Dreama.”

  Her toes curled into the carpet as heat rushed to her pussy. No other Dom had ever confronted her about her brattiness. Most of the guys had liked that about her because that gave them an excuse to spank, flog, or paddle her. But Cash was right. She’d been topping from the bottom, manipulating them into giving her what she wanted. That meant she’d never really given over her control. Cash wasn’t going to let her get away with it and that turned her on more than any touch.

  “I do trust you,” she said. “I wouldn’t try this with you if I didn’t.”

  He sat on the couch and patted the spot beside him. “Then let’s go over your limits.”

  “What’s the point of going over my limits if you can’t touch me?” she asked, sitting.

  “The point is I don’t want to do anything to cause you any psychological, physical, or emotional damage. You’ve been in this lifestyle longer than I have. I’m surprised you would consider doing a scene without expressing your limits.”

  The disapproval in his tone caused shame to spread throughout her chest. Already she wanted to please him. “Normally I wouldn’t, but I assumed if you couldn’t touch me, the limits were already set.”

  “What’s your safe word, Dreama?” he asked.

  “Marathon.” To remind her that life was a never-ending battle for the finish line. “But I’ve never used it.”

  Cash scooted a bit closer to her, leaving only a hair’s di
stance between their thighs. It should have unnerved her to have him sit so near, but instead, she relished the heat radiating from him. Her core clenched as her arousal simmered. “You have nothing to prove to me. If you don’t feel safe or if anything I do scares you, use it. I won’t judge you if you do. Tonight, I won’t touch you with my hands…or anything else. But in the future, how would you feel about me using a flogger or a cane?”

  “I…I’m not sure. I hadn’t even thought about it.” The sight of those items at Club X hadn’t scared her, but she had only been an observer and not a participant. Using an impact toy on her could potentially throw her into a full-blown panic attack. Her mind might perceive a cane as a baseball bat. Then again, her fear seemed to be limited to physical contact between her body and a man’s, especially his hands. “It might be okay,” she added. “I’d be willing to try.”

  “What about my mouth?” he asked, drawing her attention to his lips. “What if I slowly lick my way around your body…suck on your nipples…and fuck your pussy with my tongue?”

  Yes please. A year ago, she’d be pleading with him to make all of that a reality. Even now, her body felt damp as if she could actually feel his tongue traveling over her skin. Her nipples beaded behind the lacy fabric of her bra. Her clitoris throbbed and her core ached. But the thought of it also made her scars burn and her heart race in terror.

  “No. I can’t…” She wasn’t surprised to hear the quiver in her voice. “Not yet. It’s a hard limit.”

  If she were speaking about this to anyone else, she might have been embarrassed. What kind of masochist couldn’t handle a tongue on her skin? But Cash didn’t look at her any differently than he had before her answer.

  “No contact between my body and yours. Got it,” he said as if he were merely ticking items off his list. “How about bondage? Ropes? Chains? Cuffs?”

  If done properly, she loved bondage, and thankfully, the thought of it didn’t invoke any fear. “Maybe. As long as you can bind me without touching me.”

  “Hmm. I’ll have to get creative.” His wicked grin fired another round of heat through her pelvis. “I’ll tell you my limits. Even if you were ready, I won’t use anything I don’t have experience with or feel comfortable using. I’ve only got one training session under my belt with the Dominatrix. That means no canes or whips for a while. But like I said, we’re not even gonna take our clothes off tonight. Instead, we’re going to do a trust exercise.” He stood and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.