by Brynley Bush
“I like to have the best of everything,” I say simply.
“Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?”
“Sure. My office.”
She looks at me in surprise. “Really?”
“Unfortunately,” I say with a grimace. “I had something come up that I have to deal with today. It shouldn’t take too long, so I thought I’d just bring you along if you don’t mind. Afterward, I can show you my house if you’d like, or we can explore the city. Maybe go to Fisherman’s Wharf and the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“I’ve been to San Francisco several times before and done all the touristy things. I’d rather see where you work and live,” she says sincerely.
Thirty minutes later, we’re taking the elevator up to my offices on the top four floors of the building I own on California Street. She follows me wordlessly through the eerily empty lobby and hallway and into my office that occupies the corner suite.
She stares at the spectacular panoramic view of the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge afforded by the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows.
“You said you were successful, but I didn’t imagine anything like this,” she says. “What an amazing view.”
My gaze is trained on her. “I couldn’t agree more.”
She flushes as she looks around my office. Her gaze sweeps over the vast space, taking in the classic but modern furnishings from the immense wooden desk to the black leather sofa and chrome coffee table. She homes in on the wall behind my desk. “Is that your logo?”
I consider the simplistic lines that boldly affect a modernistic castle bordered by the words CASTILE ENTERPRISES.
“Yes. Although my main focus is our Internet-based company, I invest in a variety of business ventures, all of which bear the Castile name.”
“It’s a powerful logo,” she says. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I studied it in one of my design classes.” She smiles. “I never in a million years would have imagined one day I’d be in your offices seeing the real thing.”
I glance at my watch, irritated to be wasting a second of the time I have to spend with her on work. “I need to look over a proposal and then take a call. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, and then I can devote all my attention to you.” I give her a meaningful look, and she licks her lips nervously. I’m precariously close to saying fuck the phone call, willing to risk losing the company I’ve spent the past year trying to acquire just to have her sooner.
I eye her appraisingly. “You majored in design, right?”
She nods.
“I have some bids out for a brand-specific logo for a new line of business we’re developing. Why don’t you read up on the business and then look over the proposed logos we’re considering while you wait for me, and give me your input?”
“Really?” The excitement in her eyes makes me smile.
“Definitely. You can show me what you learned at that fancy New York school.”
I set her up with a laptop while I review my proposal, but I’m too distracted by her presence in my office. I can’t stop myself from watching her, my cock hardening at the way she catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she studies the logos on the screen. When the president of the company in Beijing calls, I have to turn my back to her just so I can focus. Thirty minutes later, I hang up and come to sit down beside her.
She looks up at me. “Is everything okay?”
I rest my hand on her thigh, relishing the warmth of her skin. “Yes. One of my guys had heard the company was planning to back out of the deal we’d negotiated, but we’re back on track. What do you think?” I ask, nodding at the screen.
“Well, I like this one the best,” she says, scrolling through and clicking on the logo the head of my marketing team had flagged as the front-runner. She bites her lip again. “But it’s not quite right. It’s definitely elegant, which is part of what you’re going for given the upscale market you’ll be competing in, but it’s not very edgy, and I think you need that too.”
She’s surprisingly astute. I’d felt the same, which is why my team hadn’t settled on the logo yet, but I hadn’t been able to put my finger on what was off.
“So what do you suggest, Ms. Summers?” I ask, smiling at her.
“Well, maybe you should go back to the drawing board.” She grabs a napkin off the coffee table and pulls a pen from her purse. I watch, mesmerized, as she roughly sketches out a simple logo. “You need something like this,” she adds. “Elegant lines but bold. And not the traditional square. If you do something like this”—she adds a few more lines—“it’s fresh but still sophisticated.”
“That is absolutely amazing,” I say in astonishment. In less than thirty minutes, she has nailed the logo we’ve been tossing around for months. “I’d love to run your design by the board if you don’t mind.”
She shrugs, flushing at the praise. “I could sketch a few more if you’d like.”
“Do it. Maybe I should hire you to come work for me.”
“I don’t think that would work,” she says hastily.
“Why not?”
“It’s never a good idea to be sleeping with the boss,” she says seriously. “Especially if that boss is you.”
“Why is that?” I ask, my voice husky as I move my hand higher to stroke over the tender skin of her inner thigh. God, I’ve missed her flawless, smooth, white skin and the way her muscles tremble at my slightest touch.
Her breath catches. “If you’re half as demanding as a boss as you are as a Dom, I’d be afraid I’d end up bare-assed over your desk for every little infraction.”
“Oh, you would,” I agree. My fingers brush over the silken fabric of her panties. “You’re already in violation of Castile Enterprises office dress code.”
Her eyes are laughing. “Really.”
“No panties allowed, Ms. Summers. I’m afraid you’ll have to give those to me.”
She giggles, and the sound makes me smile foolishly. My smile fades when I see the arousal flare in her eyes as she wriggles provocatively out of her panties and hands them to me. I hold them to my nose and inhale deeply, savoring the intimate scent that is all Avalon.
“Oh, my God. You did not just do that,” she mutters.
I slip them into my pocket. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take disciplinary action if you want to keep your job.”
She bites her lip insolently, knowing exactly the effect it has on me. “I do,” she says breathlessly. “I promise I’ll try harder to follow the rules.”
She drops to her knees in front of me and crawls provocatively between my opened thighs. I watch with hooded eyes as she unbuttons my pants and eases the zipper down. This is undoubtedly the best Saturday I’ve ever spent in the office. She takes my hard and throbbing cock into her mouth, and I groan as her tongue circles the head. It feels exquisite. Her lips close over my shaft as she takes all of me until I hit the back of her throat, and then she eases me back out before doing it all over again. Her hands cup my balls and squeeze. My head slams against the back of the sofa as she worships my cock with her lips and her tongue, sucking and licking until I can feel my balls tighten beneath her soft touch. I grab her by the hair, roughly yanking her head back.
“Are you trying to bribe me, Ms. Summers?”
She meets my gaze brazenly. “Let go of me, or I’ll report you for sexual harassment. I know the president.”
“Do you now?” I say, smiling. “What’s he like?”
“Very attractive. Very commanding. Good kisser.” She lowers her voice confidentially. “But he’s a total egomaniac.”
“Brat!” I laugh, dragging her over to the desk, my hand still fisted in her hair. I sweep everything off in one fluid motion and push her forward so she’s bent over the massive piece of furniture. Holding her down with one hand pressed against the small of her back, I slide open a drawer with the other and pull out a flat wooden ruler. I flip her skirt up and smack her bottom smartly with the ruler.
“Ow!” she yelps.
; “Take your punishment, and maybe I’ll let you keep your job.”
She wriggles against the desk as I spank her sweet little ass with the ruler until it’s glowing, and then I pull her up and back against me, my hand resting on her throat. I feel her swallow hard.
“You won’t get away with this,” she whispers.
“Oh, I think I will. It turns out that I too know the president.” I release her, thrusting her away from me. “I want you naked. Take off your clothes.”
Her eyes are heated as she complies, shimmying unhurriedly out of her skirt and then unbuttoning her blouse seductively, her eyes locked challengingly on mine. I fucking love the way she refuses to back down to me even when she’s doing exactly what I command her to do. When she’s completely naked, I point to the floor-to-ceiling window that looks out over the city.
“Go stand over there facing the window.”
Her gaze darts to the window and then back to me. “People will see me,” she whispers.
“Maybe,” I concede. I raise an eyebrow. “Your choice. It depends how much you want to keep your job, doesn’t it?”
I grab a condom as she slowly walks over to the window and stands tentatively in front of it, her back to me. I let her stand there for a few minutes, admiring the long, slender lines of her naked body against the backdrop of the city. She’s breathtakingly beautiful. I want to commission an artist to paint her just like this. I walk up behind her quietly, and she jumps in surprise as I wrap my hand around her waist and then slide it down to her pussy. She’s absurdly wet.
I grip her shoulders, caressing down the lengths of her arms to her wrists. I encircle them, lifting her arms over her head and placing her palms against the cool glass of the window.
“Move your feet apart.”
Her breath hitches as she widens her stance a few inches.
“More!” I snap, and this time she scrambles to obey.
I lift her hair and kiss her neck as she shudders deliciously.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I murmur as my lips travel down her spine.
She rubs her bottom against my rigid erection. “I think I have a vague idea,” she murmurs.
“I’m going to fuck you in front of this window so that the entire city of San Francisco knows who you belong to,” I growl, guiding my cock into the wet heat of her entrance. I want to own her and possess her; I want to announce to the world that she’s mine. She groans and presses back against me, impaling herself on my thick cock.
“Keep your hands on the window,” I whisper in her ear.
She cries out as I ram into her, taking her with ruthless need. I find her nipples, and I tug the hardened twin points of arousal as I pump into her, driving us both toward the release we both crave. I trail my fingers down to her hot little cunt, and I tease her swollen clit, stroking around it with soft, slow circles until her hips start to rock against me. God, I love to hear her whimper with desire. I press harder, brushing the tip of her clit as I bury my cock to the hilt inside her. I pull out and then drive back into her again, urging her toward climax with my fingers focused on her center. As my teeth sink into her neck, her body spasms and her pussy tightens around me, convulsing as the orgasm quakes through her. With my ass muscles clenched, I batter her with powerful, primal thrusts until I can’t hold back anymore, and with a growl, I come, taking her over the edge with me again.
An hour later, after the sexual tension between us has been reduced to a low simmer, I take Ava to dinner at Gary Danko on Fisherman’s Wharf. She tells me about touring the wineries in Sonoma and about her chance encounter with a fan of the show who’d told her she’s been nicknamed the Blindfold Girl. She seems amazed and slightly uncomfortable with her newfound fame, and I don’t mention the ads I’ve seen plastered across San Francisco. Like it or not, she’s becoming the face of the Helix.
After dinner, I take her to my penthouse apartment high above the waterfront.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” I ask as I close the door behind us.
She doesn’t answer.
“I don’t understand,” she finally says flatly, taking in the hardwood floors, white pillars, and modern furnishings of the open living area that’s walled by windows that provide stunning views of the bay. She turns to look at me. “You have everything you could possibly want—your own successful company, an amazing apartment, more money than most men dream of earning in a lifetime, much less before they’re thirty. Why are you on the show?”
“Because of you.”
“Me?” She’s looking at me in stunned disbelief. “How?”
I walk to the window, the view calming me as it always does. “I was intrigued when I saw you at the pool. You had this vulnerable innocence about you, and that calm, untouchable composure that made me wonder about the sensual woman hiding behind that mask and what it would take to set her free. Then I saw you audition, and I wanted you. I was in Logan’s suite, watching the auditions with him, and he told me if I wanted you, I should go on the show.”
She’s quiet for a moment, processing my explanation. Her eyes narrow dangerously.
“Is that why Logan split me and Emmett up?”
“No. He’d planned to split you up whether I went on or not,” I answer honestly.
“So you buying me at the auction had nothing to do with me being with Emmett?” she presses.
“You weren’t with Emmett,” I rationalize. “Anyone could see he wasn’t your Dom.” I tilt her chin up. “What’s this about?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head slightly. “Rebecca just said something about you only bidding on me so Emmett couldn’t buy me, and I thought maybe it was some kind of male competitiveness…” Her voice trails off.
“Rebecca’s a troublemaker who has it in for you,” I say firmly. “Don’t listen to her. I am here because of you, Ava. Because I wanted you.”
“Oh,” she says softly.
I grab her hand. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of my house.”
I show her around the four-bedroom apartment that takes up an entire floor of the building, including the beautifully decorated bedroom where my submissives spend the night on the rare occasion that they sleep over.
“They don’t sleep with you?” she asks.
“I told you at the beginning of the games, I don’t typically allow submissives to sleep with me. It’s better that way.”
My tour ends at the locked room at the end of the hall.
“What’s in here?” she asks curiously as I pull out a key and fit it into the lock. Her voice turns teasing. “Your secret bat cave?”
By way of answer, I turn the key in the lock and push the door open, gesturing for her to enter. She steps inside cautiously.
“Holy shit,” she says, her eyes growing wide. “You have your own Helix Room right here.”
I look around the dungeon that holds everything I could need to satisfy my darkest urges—a St. Andrew’s cross, a custom-built spanking bench, a bed built for all kinds of bondage, and a huge chest that holds every implement of pain and pleasure imaginable. The walls are hung with an assortment of whips, floggers, paddles, canes, and restraints.
“I had it custom built when I bought the place a year and a half ago. It’s completely soundproof.”
“You’ve thought of everything,” she says, her voice strangled. She turns to study me. “Have you always wanted…this?” Her wave encompasses the entire sophisticated dungeon.
“Yes. From the time I was about fourteen, I’ve known my tastes were a little different.”
“So your wife was submissive? Did she like it when you hurt her?”
My heart stops as I eye her warily. “How do you know about my wife?” I ask sharply.
“Rachel told me. She thought I knew. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” she says, her eyes lowering.
This is it. The true test of whether we might have a future. Although I’d hoped to have a little more time with Ava before we had this discussi
on, I realize it’s probably best to determine now if she wants to continue, knowing what I expect and what I have to give.
“No, you should have,” I reassure her. “I want complete honesty between us.” I sigh, running my fingers distractedly through my hair. “I met Natasha in grad school. She was everyone’s all-American sweetheart—outgoing, beautiful, and smart. Everyone loved her. Somehow, out of all the guys who constantly followed her around, hoping she’d notice them, she fell for me, and we got married a year later.
“Our relationship was purely vanilla. Deep down I’d always known what I was and what I craved, but when I met Natasha, I tried to pretend the demon in me could be silenced. I loved her and she loved me, and I thought that would be enough. I knew a girl like her would be horrified if she knew the dark and depraved thoughts that lurked deep inside me. I guess in some ways I thought she could save me from myself, that if I tried hard enough, I could actually be the man she thought I was, not the twisted monster I knew I was. But the demon inside me couldn’t be silenced. She wanted sweet kisses and moonlit walks, and I wanted her tied up and gagged with the stripes of my whip marking her skin.
“I kept my desires hidden like a deep, dark secret, and on the surface I managed to be the perfect husband she deserved. We were in love and were happy together for a while. But a couple of years into our marriage, it became harder and harder for me to pretend I was someone I wasn’t, and our marriage started to suffer. Secrets do not make for good relationships. It’s why I insist on honesty now.
“Then one day we ran into an old girlfriend of mine who let it slip that I used to frequent a popular BDSM club in college, and Natasha put two and two together. I assured her I was happy with what we had, but she saw through the lie. Our marriage had been on life support for a while, and she was desperate to save it. She tried to be what I wanted her to be, and in the end it destroyed both of us.
“I won’t ever make that mistake again,” I add grimly. “I won’t ever allow myself to fall in love again, and I won’t pretend to be something I’m not. After Natasha, I gave in and embraced the monster inside me. It’s who I am.”
