He looked toward the door. “I’m kind of afraid to leave my car out there for too long.”
“You think it’ll get jacked?” She snapped her fingers. “You’re right. Everybody in the poor neighborhoods get together whenever a Mercedes comes rolling up. We wait until they’re busy, then we strip their car. We’ve got it down to sixty-seven seconds. We’re going for the Guinness Book, though, so we’re aiming for fifty-three.” With that, she grabbed her bull whip from the front closet.
Eyes wide with shock, he followed her out the door. It opened to an outdoor walkway that led to stairs on either end. As she was on the second floor, she had a great view of the parking lot. She leaned over the railing to find a trio of teenage boys checking out David’s precious car. They would, she knew, steal it if she didn’t tell them to leave it alone.
She cracked the whip above their heads. They jumped as if it had been a gunshot. “Hands off the car. He’s with me.”
The oldest spread his palms, showing his innocence. “We’re just looking, Ms. Sullivan.”
The second oldest grinned. He had the kind of smile that would slice through butter. “You sure are looking good today, Ms. Sullivan.”
The youngest tipped his cap at David. “Don’t worry, mister. We’ll keep an eye out for trouble.”
David rolled his eyes and went back into the apartment. After another visual warning, Autumn followed, and she found him lounging on the sofa. “They’re really a very charming bunch.”
“I can see that. I’m starved. What’s good around here?”
“Around here? Nothing. Give me a minute to throw some things in a bag, and we can get going.”
Devilry sparkled behind his smile. “I’m fine with staying here. I’ve spent time in worse places. A foxhole in Afghanistan comes to mind. Besides, you’ve proven that you’re more than capable of defending my car and my honor. Where did you learn to use a bull whip? That’s a pretty serious instrument, and you let loose left-handed.”
She went into the bedroom to pack, leaving the door open so he could hear her answer. “After the accident where I hurt my shoulder, I used it as PT. It has all the range of motion I needed to practice, and I didn’t have insurance for real physical therapy, so that’s what I did.”
When she came out, she found him in at the counter, slicing the brownies into pieces. He pried them out and put them on a plate. “Where is your plastic wrap?”
She didn’t buy things she didn’t use. “I have plastic storage containers in the third cupboard.” While he did that, she grabbed some things from the bathroom and threw in the bag of condoms.
He took her bag and handed over the brownies. “I’ve always wanted to learn to use a bull whip.”
“I recommend wearing a long-sleeve leather shirt, thick denim jeans, and protective eyewear. And don’t think you’re getting that shit near me. I might like a good flogging every now and again, but I’m not into that kind of pain.” She snagged her keys from the counter and followed him through the door. Halfway down the second flight of steps, she said, “Oh, wait. I really need to pee. Go ahead to the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”
While she did need to go, she also wanted to set her alarms. David didn’t need to know she’d set up motion detectors in front of her windows and door. He’d just worry about her living all alone in an unsafe neighborhood, and she was more than capable of taking care of herself.
Chapter Eight
He bought the bathroom excuse. She hadn’t gone after sex, and most women who weren’t tied down found an excuse to freshen up afterward. He also bought that she’d been to see a gynecologist, but he didn’t know why she’d use the county health clinic when her insurance would cover someone in private practice. Jesse had reported that after she’d left the clinic, she’d gone to the nursing home for an hour, and then she’d gone home.
When he’d arrived at Autumn’s apartment, he’d given Jesse a break. Now that they were gone, Jesse would sneak into her apartment and go through her things. David didn’t hold out hope he’d find much. Though she’d done some things to make it appear homey, the place lacked personalization. There were no photos or prints on the walls, and no personal items were laying out anywhere except the bathroom. Those things told him that she had recently shaved and she used discount shampoo. The rest of the apartment was clean—too clean to be a place where a person resided.
On the way to his place, he stopped at his favorite restaurant to pick up two of the daily special. Today was pasta and chicken in an alfredo sauce. As long as it wasn’t shrimp, he wasn’t worried. Autumn waited in the car. She picked at her skirt, smoothing it nervously as he drove.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Autumn, if this thing between us is going to go anywhere, I’m going to insist on honesty. You might find it uncomfortable at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
She stared at him, her brow wrinkled in a half-confused, half-“fuck you” kind of expression. “I’ve never lied to you.”
The veracity of that statement was up for grabs. On one hand, she hadn’t told him any lies she wasn’t passing off as truths to the world in general. On the other hand, she had let him believe falsehoods. “I know you’re not in witness protection.”
“I never said I was.”
He struggled for patience, and he made sure his tone remained neutral. Attacking her wouldn’t get him what he wanted. She’d proven more than capable of parrying his thrust. “You knew what I assumed, and you didn’t bother to correct me. That’s lying. But it’s not what I meant. I was talking about being truthful about your feelings. I asked what was wrong. I’m not guessing that something’s bothering you; I’m reading your body language. I know something is wrong.”
“I think I pulled my shoulder throwing the whip. I didn’t warm up first.”
Patience only lasted so long. He hit the steering wheel with his palm. “Damn it, Autumn.”
“Fine. I’m nervous, okay? Does it make you happy to know that?”
It kind of did. Getting the upper hand with her was challenging. “Why are you nervous?”
“I haven’t…” She frowned and looked out the window. “I said earlier that it’s been a while for me. I wasn’t talking about D/s. I meant dating. I haven’t been romantically involved with anyone in more than three years. I haven’t even been casually involved, not like this.”
This didn’t surprise David. She had to be one of the most guarded, closed-off people he’d ever met. She’d perfected the art of keeping people out. He took her hand in his, giving gentle reassurance. “What made you decide to break your streak?”
“I like you. A lot. I’m wondering if I have the ability to open myself enough to let you in.” She sighed, the sound of a weary soul. “And I’m wondering if I’m making a mistake by trying.”
Manipulation or honesty? David didn’t know how to take her confession. Even if she was attempting manipulation, he had to play along to see what her endgame was. “I think we all wonder similar sentiments when a relationship gets serious.”
“Yeah?” She perked up a bit.
“Yeah. Look, I expected to come here and do a job. I didn’t expect to come here, meet you, and start wanting more than a casual acquaintanceship. This is a shock to me as well, but I’m not running away.”
“This might also come as a shock to you, but I wasn’t raised the conventional way. I’m not sure how serious relationships are supposed to work. I know I’m going to mess up, and I’m terrified that you won’t understand where I’m coming from.”
They’d arrived at the parking garage below his building. He glanced over to see that she was struggling with anxiety. Actually, she looked close to having a full-on panic attack. “Breathe, honey. Slowly. Inhale for three seconds. Tap it out with your fingers on your leg. That’s it. Exhale for three.” He’d been trained in the military in basic responses to panic attacks. Once she calmed down, he said, “The cure for your fears is to tell me about you
rself. The better I know you, the better I will understand your perspective.”
“Sorry. I’m not usually like this. I think having sex with you threw me off my game.”
He couldn’t stop the arrogant grin from taking over his features.
With an aggravated sigh, she got out of the car. He waited until after dinner—low blood sugar could account for some of her anxiety—to bring up things she kept hidden. He was playing with a handicap, though, because he knew more about her than he could reveal, and he was desperately trying to fill in huge blanks.
He relaxed on the sofa, and arranged for her to sit next to him and snuggle into his chest. This way he could hold her reassuringly and control the conversation. Or he could try to. She possessed excellent verbal skills designed, he now realized, to keep people at a distance.
“I thought you’d want to have sex again.”
“Because I’m a dude and all I think about is getting some?”
She snorted. “If that’s how it is, I might also be a dude.”
He visually admired the rise of her breasts and the curve of her hip. “You’re definitely not a dude.”
“I could practice giving a blowjob some more.”
Oh, and he’d thought he was going to control the conversation. He adjusted his junk to give it more room. “As you’re aware, in a D/s relationship, it is imperative to talk about limits and preferences. I thought we’d start that discussion tonight.”
She turned, sliding her chest along his, and said, “I’ve memorized your limits and preferences. I’m okay with everything you listed on the sheet you filled out for Elite Solutions. Just be careful of my shoulder. I can’t keep my arm above my head for long periods. When I accidentally fling it up in my sleep, it kills for the next few days. And it can’t take a lot of weight for very long.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Have you experienced everything on my list?”
“No, but I figured we should start easy and work up to more complicated things. If I can’t handle something, I’ll safeword.”
“Call me crazy, but I’m still going to insist on talking. I don’t want to strap you to a spreader bar to find out the hard way that you don’t know how to move around in one without whacking yourself in the face.”
She pushed away, lifting her boobs off his chest. The way they moved in the low cut bodice of her dress drew his attention. She snapped her fingers. “I’m up here. What evidence do you have that I’m a klutz?”
“None yet. What if you panic when you’re tied down, blindfolded, and unable to move? I’d rather know before we start whether you’ve ever done that before. This isn’t negotiable, honey.”
“Okay.” In a fluid motion, she flipped around and ended up straddling him. “Fire away. What do you want to do with me first?”
That was easy. “Spank you.”
She laughed. “I know, silly. You’ve already mentioned it. After that?”
An erotic image came to mind. His cock moved closer to her heat. “Bind your knees and wrists to a spreader bar. Lick your pussy. Turn you over and fuck you until you beg me to stop.”
She traced a finger along his lower lip, and the raw emotion in her gaze arrested his breath. “What makes you think I’d ever want you to stop?”
“Because I won’t let you come until you submit to me, until you acknowledge me by title and give me everything I want from you. Until then, I’ll keep you on edge, torturing you because I get off on it.”
The tiniest bit of fear clouded the submissive desire in her green eyes. “Besides submission, what do you want from me? Sir.”
She added his title belatedly, but at least she was learning. Feeling benevolent, he smiled and gave her the sort of answer she would give him. “I’ll know it when I see it.”
A pouty frown marred her chin. “That could mean anything.”
He flipped them so that his weight pinned her to the sofa. “Yeah, well, that’s not all. I also want the truth. I want to know who you are and who you go to see at Sunshine Acres.”
She shoved at him, anger giving her an unexpected amount of strength. She nearly heaved him away. “We’ve already discussed this. I am Autumn Sullivan, and it’s none of your damn business what I do with my time when I’m not with you.” She wiggled and bucked to no avail. Then she stilled. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you either, and I’m not being a dick about it.”
“Of course not. You’re the sweet submissive who’d never do anything to piss off her Master.”
Her eyes flashed. “You’re not my Master. I barely agreed to let you be my Sir. For the record, you failed your audition for boyfriend. That only leaves sex between us. There you go, David. That’s who I am. I’m Autumn Sullivan, the woman who has meaningless sex with her boss. When would be the best time to ask for a raise?”
He shouldn’t spank her when he was this angry. Really, he should let her up and go to another room until he cooled off enough to be rational. But damn it, he wasn’t in the mood to want to be reasonable. He got up, hauling her with him, and dragged her into the bedroom. He hadn’t brought more than the basic, portable equipment with him because you never knew when a hot brunette was going to light your fire.
That meant he had to improvise. He slapped neoprene cuffs on her wrists and ankles, and when she tried to peel them off, he quelled her with one hard look. “Take off your dress and lie face down on the bed.”
“David, I—”
“Don’t,” he thundered. “The only words I want to hear out of your mouth are Yes and Sir. If I hurt your shoulder, call yellow. Otherwise, shut up and follow orders.”
He knew that she could call red. That was an option. He’d respect her safeword, but she had no way of knowing that. She yanked her dress over her head, fuming wordlessly, and threw it on the floor.
“Pick it up and hang it neatly over the back of the office chair.”
Her mouth might not have moved, but with eyes that expressive, it didn’t have to. David read her fury without needing a translation. And he noted her brand-new pair of sexy panties and matching bra. She’d bought them with him in mind.
“Remove your panties and bra. Put them with the dress.” He kept the hard edge to his tone, but he was having trouble holding on to actual anger, especially when she obeyed. “Bend over the bed, legs spread, ass in the air, and arms…behind your back.” He wasn’t sure about that last part. If she had trouble raising her arm for too long, holding it behind her back might be too much strain.
She bent over, rested her torso on the bed, and clasped her hands behind her neck. “I can hold this for longer.”
Those words weren’t on the approved list, but he let it go. He needed her to communicate with him, and this was a start. “This is going to hurt a lot.”
“Put your money where your mouth is and let’s see what you’ve got. Sir.”
He’d never had a sub goad him before. For a few seconds, he debated gagging her, but then he rejected the idea. The amount of sass that poured out of her mouth would let him know where her mind was, and that was invaluable information. “You’ve earned extra for running off at the mouth.”
“Whatever. So far all you’ve done is run off at the mouth.” She wiggled her ass back and forth, taunting him.
He began the spanking with a steady tap designed to prepare her for the harder hits to come.
“Seriously? This is discipline? No wonder you’re single.”
This was going to require a glove. Good thing his bag was open and nearby. He snagged it without missing a beat. When she was warmed up, he ran his hand over her bottom. “You have a sweet ass. From now on, I’m going to call you Sugar.” He delivered the next volley of harder hits without giving her time to respond. If she wasn’t going to reveal her real name, then he was going to call her whatever he wanted.
When her pale bottom was bright red, he paused. His palm was covered, so he ran the inside of his wrist over her flesh. Waves of heat scorched his skin. “How are you doing, Sugar?”
It was time to break out something with more bite. He selected a leather paddle. “I thought you said you’d never been on the receiving end before?”
“No, I said I’d never actually submitted. I’ve had my ass spanked by harder hands than yours. So far, your listening skills and your punishment are not proving impressive.”
“Let’s get to it, then. Batter up.” With that, he spanked her so hard the outline of the paddle showed up on her ass.
She sucked in a breath. “Score one for dickhead.”
It was a good thing he had masterful control over his temper, because if he let himself go, he’d dissolve in a puddle of laughter. Her sense of humor hit his funny bone in exactly the right way. Now that he knew what she could take, he set to work. He didn’t count the blows. Instead he watched her body language and noted her breathing. After a time, fat tears began to seep from her eyes. He stopped when her torso began shaking. Taking her in his arms, he cradled her while she sobbed.
He smoothed her hair away from her face, kissed her temple and cheek, and murmured soothing noises as he rocked her back and forth. As she calmed, he let his hands wander over her skin.
“You needed this.”
She clutched his shirt and sniffled. “Yes, Sir.”
“You’re a smartass most of the time. Why did I think it would disappear when you became my submissive?”
“I don’t know, Sir.”
“This is the kind of thing I would like you to tell me up front, Sugar.”
“I didn’t know, Sir. I’ve never been like this before. Doms usually stop when I keep shooting my mouth off.”
Looking at the positive side, she was showing him a side of herself that she’d never felt comfortable enough to share with anybody else. He’d also figured out why she’d been unable to surrender. No Dom yet had proven himself worthy. A SAM—a smartass masochist—was a challenging submissive to dominate. “How’s your ass?”
Re/Leased (Doms of the FBI Book 5) Page 11
