Rapid Pulse: A Limited Edition Spicy Romance Collection

by Gina Kincade

  After they were alone again, Thorne took a long draw on the wine and eyed her carefully before speaking.

  “Margaret, I can’t teach you. That is not who I am. I can show you things, but training a Dom, or in your case Domme or Dominatrix, is not something I care to undertake. Not because it’s you, and I wish you would choose to be mine; I don’t care to undertake that for anyone. Maybe it’s a Dom thing. I want what I want, and don’t what I don’t.”

  He heaved out a hard sigh. “Does that bit of double speak make any more sense said as I meant it than how it sounded?”

  Maggie giggled. She might have managed to fluster him from his polished demeanor. Mr. Cool, calm and in control was hedging in front of her eyes. She enjoyed the moment before answering.

  “Actually, it does. It’s not quite the answer I want, but maybe that’s a Domme thing.”

  He glared and rolled his eyes before laughing it off. She continued.

  “If you can’t or won’t teach me, then what can you show me?” she challenged.

  He fingered the side of his mouth and bottom lip.

  “I can show you the lifestyle I suppose. Perhaps seeing the other players live will help.” He grinned. “Maybe, it will even change your final answer.”

  It was her turn to roll her eyes then.

  “Oh and wouldn’t that just make your day.” It was a statement not a question.

  His wicked grin changed to stoic seriousness as he leveled his gaze on her. “Margaret, you have no idea.”

  A chill ran up her arms. She forced herself not to acknowledge it instead returning his steely gaze.

  “Care to start now then? See which Dom’s wants win?” she baited.

  She felt more than heard the low growl that preceded his reply. It ran up her fingers resting on the table sending a trail of goose bumps up her arms to chase the chill she refused to react to.

  “Not with you looking like that we can’t. I’d need a club and an army to keep the wolves off you. You’ll need to change.”

  Maggie grinned at his assessment, equally pleased to have her agenda on track.

  “Well, we can’t have that. Let’s go. I’m sure I can find something more suitable if my attire is the only hold up.”

  He nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Maggie hesitated. “What about the check? It hasn’t come yet.”

  “It’s already been handled.”

  The head nodding all made sudden sense. Maggie was furious.

  “What? It was supposed to be my treat remember?”

  “That changed when I found you looking like summer sorbet, remember?”

  His mild mocking tone did nothing but rankle her further. “Thorne!”

  He paused at her outburst.

  “Hear me clearly Margaret, it has been taken care of. That item is not negotiable now. I will, if we can come to agreement on how you will appear, take you to see what you are intent to see, but that tone from you again this night is a ‘Red. Light’. Am I clear?”

  Her molars nearly snapped from the hard grind she was working to stay her tongue. His face said he was absolutely serious, perhaps impossibly so. She would have to focus to keep her fury caged. She thought he had been ribbing her about dinner being his treat. That or she’d be faster when the check came. Wrong on both counts.

  She got herself under control and cleared her throat before trying to respond.

  “You’re clear.”

  He nodded. The subject was obviously now closed.

  “Good.”

  He got up, came around the table and got her chair.

  “Let’s go.”

  ‘Put another notch in the lipstick case...’

  The car was waiting curbside when they cleared the door as though it had never moved. The valet held the passenger door for her, closing it once she was seated beside Thorne who had gotten the keys and his own door. She nearly missed the start of the inquisition as she slipped into the swirling fragrances of leather, fresh air and Dominant male.

  “Do you have black dress pants?”

  “Yes.”

  “Heels?”

  “Yes.”

  “Also black?”

  “Yes.”

  He paused. “Did you keep the corset?”

  It was suddenly too warm in the air conditioned car.

  “Yes, so far.”

  He finally glanced over.

  “So far?”

  “I’m not really a fan of pink, especially not glow in the dark, neon highlighter pink.”

  “Oh. I see. Hmm.”

  His eyes were back on the road and the traffic on Wabash. She hesitated deciding it was now or not.

  “Does the color matter?”

  His mouth dropped open slightly, hanging there after his questioning “No...”

  “I have another one...it’s not pink.”

  She’d swear he gripped the wheel a bit tighter, but decided it was her imagination. He shifted slightly in his seat, glanced at her as if to check if she was jacking him around or not, and licked his lips before he spoke.

  “Not pink is fine.”

  He pulled up in front of her building shortly thereafter. The balance of the ride had been silent. Only the rasp of the air vents had broken the pregnant pause between them.

  Once inside, Maggie wasn’t sure if she should show it to him or just change. His, ‘Do you need help?’ answered the question and she went to change with a ‘No.’

  HE WAS STANDING AT the slider looking out when she reemerged ten minutes or so later. Even as her bangles knocked together he did not flinch or turn, instead watched her in the reflection of the glass with the encroaching dark behind it. She stood at the end of the island and waited. She knew he was aware she was there. Details aside, he was watching her face in the glass. Without turning still, he broke the silence.

  “Margaret, you would try the patience of a saint...and I am not a saint.”

  She let out the breath she was holding and licked her lips. He finally turned to face her, letting out a loud, forceful exhale of his own.

  “My god, woman.”

  Maggie’s smile was soft as it bloomed. She had been worried as she emerged that she didn’t have the combination right. Evidently, she did. She hadn’t grabbed the black heels, opting instead for an impulse buy pair of bright red ones. The billowy palazzo pants all but hid them unless she was walking anyway. He walked up to her, looking down and back up again, spying the shoes with a grin.

  “You’re trying to kill me tonight aren’t you? Showing me exactly what I’m missing? I am a Dom, but I’m a man first and Oh my god are you a woman. Holy hell Margaret.”

  Maggie beamed.

  “I’m going to take that as this is okay to wear.”

  His eyes went wide.

  “It’s more than okay. I might need that army after all.”

  Eyeing the bracelets, “May I?”

  She held up her arm as he took several of the gold bands and pushed them up her arm to above her elbow. The others he slid off and set on the counter. Reaching up, he undid the clasp of the gold chain she had added feeling bare, with her back and neck exposed. It too was set on the counter.

  “We need to stop at my place. I’m going to ask you to do something. There are no strings to it, but I am going to ask you to appear collared for the night.” Her eyes went wide as he continued. “If you wish to see is fine, but you will be dodging every dog and Dom if you appear available. It is a condition of taking you, and it is not negotiable. Looking the way you do, even collared, you are going to draw a lot of eyes. Yes or no?”

  Maggie debated. She understood the reasoning even if she didn’t like it.

  “It’s not an ugly dog collar or something right?”

  He didn’t laugh.

  “No, it’s not an ugly dog collar or something. And just for you, no leash, though I’m seriously debating my sanity at that decision.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She nearly called him on it as she had at Acadia before rememberi
ng the ‘red light’ and closing her mouth.

  “Good girl. I saw what you almost did there. Now, yes or no?”

  Maggie closed her eyes to keep him from seeing more than her words would say as she rolled them. She counted to ten, and opened her eyes on a sigh.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God. It would be a shame not to take you out looking like this. Ready?”

  She held up a small black wristlet. It was just big enough for her keys, ID, some cash and a chap stick.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to touch up your make up or get a lipstick first?”

  Maggie snorted.

  “Hate the stuff. This is almost more than I can stand. Unless I need more, I’d rather not.”

  He put up a hand.

  “No, it’s not needed. Let’s go.”

  ‘Dreamweaver...’

  Thorne’s home reminded her of an old brownstone from the movies. The street was full but quiet as they got out and walked up to the front entrance. Walking in, Maggie was struck with an air of regal-ness that was only slightly undercut by the tapping, howling fur ball that greeted them in the foyer.

  “Leave her alone Beta. She’s not here to see you.” He chirped at the dog.

  Maggie giggled. Mr. ‘Not negotiable’ was a big ole softy for the four-legged companion who’s tail was going two-twenty at the sight of its master. Thorne escorted her into a room up the hall toward the back. Obviously his office space, it was completely male.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Simple clean lines, the space was unmistakable as his. The shelves were lined with books which she took the opportunity to inspect just as he had in her home. Classics, history, philosophy and finance seemed to be the key features in the titles. She could have done without the finance, but the rest were all well maintained and interesting.

  A shelf on the opposite wall held other offerings; DeMille, Grisham, Doyle and Rice among them. He was a suspense and mystery guy. Go figure. A short wall at the end of the desk had his diploma, a degree in finance from Columbia and a management degree from DePaul. The finance books made sense now. The schools said he was a city boy, by birth or transplant she didn’t know, but this was his town.

  She’d just settled into a deep leather chair facing the desk when he walked back in. He’d changed suits to one in a little lighter fabric that was just as well fitted. A crisp white shirt replaced the stripes from before and stood out against the dark charcoal that nearly matched her corset. He’d also changed to a bright red tie. It nearly matched her shoes. There would be little question that they were together for anyone who saw them.

  “The rules of the evening are this; you are with me one. Second, you will look to me if anyone addresses you without speaking to or being introduced to you by me first. Third, if you wish to leave, let me know, otherwise we will leave when I say so without question or incident. I am taking you so you can look around, we will not be the show. Am I clear?”

  Maggie had been nodding along with the points as he made them.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. And, you will wear this until I take it off of you at the end of the night.”

  In his hand was a narrow black band. At each end was a gold grommet ring and between the rings was a small gold lock. The message of the piece was clear. Her mouth twitched as she considered it. He continued.

  “It is official enough looking while not being so. It is a trainer. It will come off at the end of the night,” he paused, letting a gleam light his eyes “unless you wish to keep it on at that point. There are no strings attached. However, it is not a toy. You will not mess with it in any way. The implication is that you are mine. You fidgeting and messing with it will eliminate that impression and the night will immediately be ended. Your chance to observe is a charade. I can play the part, can you?”

  Maggie bit the tip of her fingernail.

  “So, I’m playing your sub?”

  “No. You are playing owned. Sub would require a different kind of acting and I doubt you want to play that, first off. But secondly, I don’t share my subs publically. If you were my sub, even playing my sub, the last place you would be going tonight would be anywhere beyond the front door.”

  “Oh.”

  Maggie’s hand went to her ponytail.

  “Then put it on. I’ll behave.”

  Thorne undid the lock and slid the band around her throat. She jumped a little at the ‘snick’ of it closing. She suddenly had a knot in the pit of her stomach. She took a few breaths and moved to the mirror over the mantel piece to look. Even to her as yet untrained eye, the message was loud and clear.

  She fingered the band first. It was not tight. The lock was cold against her throat but not overly heavy. She moved it from side to side trying to find a comfortable place for it to lie. It was going to be an exercise in restraint to keep from messing with it. Thorne watched her in the reflection as she adjusted and readjusted the piece.

  “Can you do it?”

  Maggie’s eyes came up to meet his in the glass.

  “As your conditions are clear, I have no choice. I’ll make it. Just give me a few minutes to get used to it.”

  He nodded not letting her drop her gaze from his in the mirror.

  “Just know, I will, but it may kill me to take that off of you later.”

  He turned and walked out leaving her to digest his comment and get used to the piece alone. She did not allow herself to dwell on the words. The look he wore as he’d said them made her seriously question if this was remotely a good idea.

  Maggie turned as he walked back in and came over to her. He lifted the lock and set it back in place gently.

  “Let’s go now before I change my mind, take you to my private dungeon, show you all the things you so desperately want to know and reinforce to you what the correct ‘final answer’ should be.”

  Maggie shuddered and her body wept. They needed to go before she changed her mind as her insides were making a serious bid to stay.

  ‘Deep inside we’re all the same...’

  True to his prediction, like moths to a fresh flame, Maggie felt every gaze in the room land on her as they entered The Brickhouse. She noted that she didn’t notice a head turn other than the doorman’s, but the lock on her neck burned with awareness that she was being viewed. Fighting not to squirm, she nearly missed Thorne’s ‘Don’t even think about it Brad’ to the only one blatantly sizing her up.

  His hand at the small of her exposed back was soft but hot. He guided her through the crowded room to a raised table against the wall in the far corner. Maggie had noted multiple women with collars as they had crossed the room. She reevaluated Thorne’s earlier threat of a leash. She had thought he was joking. Judging by several she saw being used, she was no longer so sure.

  “I’ll be right back. Remember the rules.”

  Thorne had seated her and was moving away toward the bar. The walls were covered with mirrors and long swaths of heavy fabric in an alternating pattern. She watched him walk away, stopping to shake hands with a few others along the way. It was only after she looked up and around that she noticed he was watching her in reflection as he went. Even as he greeted others, his gaze never left her for more than a moment. His awareness of her every movement did not falter.

  A trio of men clad in leather approached her. Maggie’s eyes shifted to Thorne’s in the glass behind the bar. He didn’t blink, only watched her and them as they stopped at the far edge of the table where she sat. She shifted her eyes to see them but did not speak. The one in the center looked like he might, but his partner’s hand on his forearm stayed his tongue and they moved on. Her eyes jumped immediately to Thorne’s. He was on his way back.

  He set a short glass of something clear with a wedge of lime in front of her.

  “You did well. Did they speak to you?”

  Maggie took a sip before answering. She was pretty sure he knew the answer anyway. She pursed her lips a
nd wrinkled her nose on the swallow.

  “Nope. One looked like he wanted to but didn’t. The other guy held his arm kind of but I don’t know why. What is this?”

  Thorne nodded.

  “At least one of them noticed and understood the collar. Good. It’s club soda. You’re here to observe remember? I remember that you don’t drink so we’re playing it safe. A drink would dull you to notice as much as you can. I sincerely doubt I could pull this charade off more than one time.”

  Maggie took another sip debating the beverage and his confession. She had been stubborn in her refusal that she had such an effect on him. She had to accept she might be mistaken.

  “Oh. Water would have been fine, but I’ll make this work.”

  As she looked around, there were all sorts of couples and groupings but nothing really outlandish other than a few outfits. She noticed a group of men in leather chaps, which she had to force herself to look away from and back to Thorne.

  “Do you ever wear chaps here?” she said teasingly.

  He looked at her for a long moment. His thoughts played openly across his face but so quickly that she couldn’t read any of them. He was equally teasing with his retort.

  “Why do you ask Margaret? Would that change your mind?”

  Maggie felt the flush creep up her cheeks. Thorne in leather chaps just might change her mind. She wasn’t about to admit that to him. Instead, she elected to try coy and ease out of the awkward she felt at his baiting.

  “Maybe, maybe not. Everything here seems pretty tame really. I didn’t know if that was the spicy bit I should be waiting for.”

  He shook his head.

  “No. Here in the main area is mostly social, refined and regulated social. Beyond the drapes,” he motioned to the fabric panels, “are the ‘spicy bits’ you are asking about.”

  As she watched, a drape on the far wall slid aside and a couple emerged. The he was dressed similarly to Thorne with the her on a leash connected to her collar. A slim chain also connected from the collar to cuffs at her wrists. Maggie looked to Thorne who nodded back to the main area.