by Cara Bristol
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Chapter Fourteen
Emma blinked in the darkness.
Wrapped around her, Dan's muscular body emitted warmth, offered protection, staked possession. He'd thrown one leg over her thighs, while a forearm pressed tightly between her breasts. His quiet breathing caressed her hair with each exhalation, his chest rising and falling with the gentle rhythm of someone with no worries.
Or someone exhausted. Emma smiled with amusement. They had made love three times yesterday—once during the day and twice last night. With each encounter, they'd learned more about each other's bodies, what each of them liked, what drove the other wild. She loved the way Dan jerked and groaned as she sucked his cock while milking his steely shaft with her fingers. She reveled in his hoarse groans, the sound of her name crudely entwined with curses, the profane made sacred by his desire, his tenderness, and concern. His love.
Each stroke, each kiss, each thrust had marked her, bonded her to him, and when he finally allowed her to lie spent, no part of her body or heart remained untouched. She belonged to him and he to her. The only thing dividing them now was the simple matter of the truth, and she vowed to rectify that at the earliest opportunity and reveal her Rod and Cane membership and her plans to expose the organization. Her heart would not allow secrets and subterfuge to come between them.
She loved him—his dimples, his smile, his tenderness, his playfulness, his take-charge expression of dominance that had begun to manifest itself in a myriad of little ways, from his sexual orders to the way he ensured her physical comfort—and discomfort.
Happiness welled inside her.
He had teased her, made her ache with yearning by displaying a brand-new leather-covered paddle atop her dresser, then diabolically informing her she wouldn't be spanked until sometime on Sunday.
She felt like a little girl on Christmas Eve, awaiting a visit from Santa Claus. She squinted through the morning darkness to seek out the paddle. Propped against her jewelry box, its shape resembled the cutting board in her kitchen, only longer and slimmer. Visceral pleasure hummed through her. Today was Sunday. She eyed the paddle longingly.
In the morning stillness, she imagined she could hear the vibration of her desire.
Emma frowned, listening. No, something was vibrating. Next to the paddle on the dresser, Dan's cell phone jitterbugged like a jumping bean. She peered at the clock. Six a.m. On a Sunday. What could be so important that someone would call before it was even light?
She glanced at Dan. Should she wake him?
The vibration stopped.
Dan's large palm covered a breast and squeezed lightly. “Good morning.” His sleepy, sexy voice warmed her ear.
"Good morning.” She stretched, and he caressed the length of her body. “Your cell phone was ringing...er...vibrating,” she informed him.
He shrugged. “They'll call back or leave a message. I have more important things to attend to than phone calls.” Slowly he stroked her. “There's no place else I'd rather be than with you. I think we have something special, Emma. Something deep and lasting."
His words lit a fire in her heart. Dawn tinted the room with a pink glow, and she twisted in his arms to scrutinize his face. “I feel connected to you in a way I haven't with anyone else,” she said. “Spanking didn't create the feeling, but it made me recognize it sooner. Is that strange?"
Dan smiled and shook his head. “Not to me. I understand completely. Trust opens your heart, and it takes trust to put yourself over my lap."
Emma held her breath. She didn't doubt his feelings or hers, but was it too soon to express how she really felt? He'd said he was falling for her, but what if he wasn't there yet? She exhaled. “I love you, Dan."
He cupped the side of her face, his touch warming her clear down to his toes. His eyes darkened. “I love you. It means so much to me to know I was the first man to spank you, that you enjoy it as much as I do."
She wished she could bask in the glow of the moment, but Emma recognized an opening to confess her Wives Auxiliary membership, and now it was more important than ever to tell him the truth. Delaying wouldn't make it any easier. She plunged. “Dan...I need to tell—"
Dan's phone again. The caller was certainly persistent. “Maybe you'd better get that,” she suggested. Perhaps if he answered it, they wouldn't have any more interruptions.
"I'd rather play with you.” He waggled his eyebrows.
A bad feeling niggled at her. “What if it's important?” She rolled over and turned on the bedside light.
"If it will make you happy.” He slid out of bed, revealing such an impressive morning erection, she regretted her insistence that he answer the phone.
DAN GRABBED HIS cell and knew as soon as he recognized Jared Traynor's number his morning plans were shot to hell.
"Jared? What's going on?” He glanced at Emma to find her forehead creased warily. It's okay, he mouthed to reassure her. He had a strong feeling the situation was far from all right, but this didn't affect her.
"Otis has called an emergency meeting."
"Shit! When?” he asked.
"Now."
"Does this involve what I think it does?"
"Yes. It's about the infiltrator."
Dan glanced at Emma, plucking at the bedcovers with her fingers. Due to the Rod and Cane confidentiality requirement, her presence prevented him from questioning Jared the way he wanted—and from asking Emma if she'd heard anything.
"Is there anything I need to do?” Dan asked Jared.
"That's what we'll decide at the meeting. How soon can you get there?"
"I'm on my way.” Dan ended the call.
Nothing could have separated him from Emma this weekend—nothing except a summons from the Society. Rod and Cane demanded a commitment and loyalty that extended beyond that of any civic organization or a social club. A man who dutifully served the Society would be a better disciplinarian and master of his household.
Though Dan spanked for eroticism rather than behavior correction, his penchant didn't relieve him of his obligation to the organization. But damnit!
"Is something wrong?” she asked and furrowed her brows.
He wished he could share this with her. If she was his wife and a member of Rod and Cane, he wouldn't hesitate to discuss it with her, ask her opinion.
"Is Jared somebody from your work?"
"No. It's complicated,” Dan answered and made a decision. When he returned, he would tell her of his membership with Rod and Cane. See how she felt about joining the organization. He might even begin to introduce some disciplinary spankings. He'd noticed she wasn't as focused about certain things as she could be. He hadn't heard anything more about the hot story she'd been so excited about. Had she dropped the ball?
He looked at her. “I'm leaving in a rush, and you deserve an explanation. I promise I'll tell you everything when I get back. We need to talk. I need to fill you in on a few things."
"Like what?"
"Later.” He smiled reassuringly. “I promise. Nothing to worry about.” He hugged her and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I'll come back as soon as I can."
Dan scooped up his clothes from the floor where he'd tossed them the previous night. In the middle of pulling up his pants, he paused, arrested by the sight of Emma's naked curves when she slipped out of bed. She stretched deliberately, languorously like a cat.
Creamy breasts swelled on her chest as she arched, causing her nipples, still reddened and swollen from his attention the evening before, to jut out even more. Her waist dipped inward; her hips curved outward. Golden curls formed a neat V leading to what he knew was a very sweet, tight pussy. Slowly she reached for a pink silk robe draped across the foot of the bed, presenting him with a delectable view of her backside, its paleness begging to be colored. The perfect heart to capture his heart.
Disappointment at the delay made his palms itch. He'd had big plans for her ass—and the rest of her.
Emma shot a seductive glance over
her shoulder before slowly donning her robe. Amusement and tenderness stole into his chest.
He glanced at the paddle. He was sorely tempted to give her a few swats for good measure, but like eating potato chips, if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop with a few, nor would he be finished with her once the paddling ceased. He couldn't walk away from this woman.
He planned to spend the rest of his life with her, loving, fucking, and spanking her. He needed her, and she needed him to guide her. Maybe discipline her on occasion.
Dan zipped his pants before his swelling cock impeded the operation, then jammed his feet into his shoes. Emma had donned her glasses. He'd never known a woman who looked as cute in spectacles as she did. He hugged her and then sought her gaze. “I wish I didn't have to leave.” After clipping his cell to his belt, he planted a hard kiss on her mouth. “I'll show myself out.” He smacked her bottom sharply. “I owe you a spanking."
She poked him in the chest. “Don't you forget it, buster."
Rod and Cane was nearer to Emma's place than his, and with the streets deserted on a Sunday morning, he arrived within a few minutes. He parked at the curb and met up with Jordan as the disciplinary proctor punched an admission code into the keypad beside the sturdy double doors. They swiped their cards through the reader, badging in as required during off-hours.
They passed through the massive foyer and into the museum promenade. As they proceeded to the governance chamber, Dan asked, “Do you know what the meeting is about?"
"You didn't see the paper?” Jordan raised his eyebrows.
"No.” He shook his head.
Jordan paused outside the chamber. “The Sentinel Review outed Rod and Cane.” He pushed open the door.
"Christ!” A sick feeling settled in Dan's stomach, and he followed the proctor into the room. Emma wrote for the Sentinel. She might have had information about the infiltrator.
"Good morning.” Otis greeted them, although his tight expression indicated the situation was anything but pleasant. Appearing equally somber, Jared sat next to him with a stack of newspapers.
Paul McGinnis barreled in and moved to his seat.
"You're the last to arrive,” Jared commented.
A grimace of irritation flashed across Paul's face, but he stomped to the deposit box and shoved two tens inside.
Dan, Jordan, and Paul assumed their positions around the conference table.
Jared glanced at Otis. “This is it. Rick Majors is out of town at a funeral,” he said, referring to the remaining absent board member.
"We have a quorum, so let's convene.” Otis rapped the gavel. “As you all are aware, we've suspected we had an infiltrator in the organization. This morning, the Sentinel published a column about the Rod and Cane Society and that thing we do."
After showering and dressing, Emma fed Jinx, put the coffee on, and as it dripped, roamed aimlessly through a house grown silent and empty without Dan. He had filled the spaces of her home and her heart with the warmth of his presence, his rumbling voice, his masculine scent. Already it was hard to imagine her life without him in it.
But Dan hadn't left for good; he got called to a meeting and had promised to come back.
Foreboding evoked by the single name gnawed at her nerves. Jared. That could only be Jared Traynor, Melania's husband. But that didn't mean anything. Dan belonged to Rod and Cane, and she knew how much the organization demanded of its members. If Rod and Cane commanded Dan's presence, he had no choice but to obey. So why did she feel such dread? Silly. Get over it, and figure out what you're going to say when Dan tells you about the organization.
That was easy. The truth. She'd tell him how and why she'd joined the Wives Auxiliary. She sighed. Thank God she'd killed the story.
Her clothing lay scattered from her living room to the bedroom. Despite her unrest, she smiled as she remembered how she'd removed and dropped each garment, littering a trail for Dan. She followed her own path to the bedroom, then retrieved the articles and deposited them in the bathroom hamper. On her way out, she spied the paddle atop her dresser. She hefted it in her hands, then smacked it against one open palm. The smooth, supple black leather provided light covering over an unyielding, stern wood.
She snapped it against her ass cheek, then harder across the other. Spanking herself didn't compare to having Dan bare her bottom, position her to his liking, then punish her cheeks with delightful kisses that made her writhe and gasp as her thighs grew slick from arousal.
Now that had an effect, she thought wryly, as her body released a surge of moisture while she replayed the delicious spankings Dan had given her. She pressed her lips to the paddle and returned it to the dresser top. “Later,” she said aloud. Dan had promised.
Her stomach fluttered with agitation. So he had a meeting at Society headquarters. It was nothing to worry about. The governing board had to convene to direct the business of the organization.
But out of the blue on a Sunday? Before it was even light?
Melania had mentioned there was a tempest abrew at Rod and Cane. Was this related? And what if it was? She had no reason to feel paranoid; she'd axed her column. Emma massaged her temples. The best thing to do would be to focus on something else while she waited for Dan. She hadn't talked to her mother for a while; perhaps she'd call Summer and chat. She'd write her replacement Sentinel article about the adoption of exotic pets. But first...coffee. Like chocolate, a strong cup of java could fix most ails.
First she detoured outside to retrieve her morning paper from beneath her car, where the paperboy liked to leave it. She could access the paper online, but she preferred to keep clippings of her columns.
With a cup of coffee, Emma settled at her small dining table to peruse the newspaper and check out what her fellow columnist had done. Today was Stu Davidson's week to write “CityScape Uncovered.” She wondered if Stu and the other two columnists who shared the space were vying for a full-time, permanent staff position the way she was. Probably.
Emma flipped to the front page of the B section.
"Oh God, no!” The headline of “CityScape Uncovered” leaped off the page, and Emma jumped out of her chair, knocking over her mug and soaking the newspaper. She felt the blood drain from her face.
For a nanosecond she assumed Stu had scooped her, gotten to the story first and had run with it. Then she saw Cassidy's byline.
Her tears of horror blurred the damning words on the sodden paper. Secret men's society...duty and obligation to maintain discipline...sparing the rod entails spoiling the wife...avid submission. How could this have happened? She'd trashed the e-mail, deleted the story! She did!
Didn't I?
How could the column have migrated from her laptop's Trash folder to a section front of the Sentinel? How would she explain this to Dan? To Melania? This was why Rod and Cane had called the impromptu meeting—the men had seen the column.
Emma dashed to her laptop, leaping over Jinx, who sniffed at the puddle of coffee on the floor. “Hurry. Hurry up, damnit!” she swore at the machine as it booted up with glacial speed. Emma paced as the computer took its sweet time to awaken.
Think, Emma, think, she told herself. “You, keep working,” she ordered the laptop.
Emma warmed the kitchen floor tiles, replaying the sequence of events: meeting Dan, getting spanked, waffling about the story, playing the game, then deleting the story. She remembered everything vividly. She had looked at her spanking photos, then opened the e-mail to Jen. She had clicked Delete and then—Ron had arrived. They had argued. Dan had called. She'd gone outside to talk.
And had left Ron alone with her computer!
Are you sure you want to delete this message? Had she gotten the pop-up before she shut the lid? Had she clicked it? Emma frowned. Damnit, she couldn't remember!
Seconds after the last icon appeared on her screen, Emma connected to the Internet and her e-mail. She scrolled her Trash folder. The e-mail with her Rod and Cane story wasn't there, but the folder emptied auto
matically, anyway. Heart beating like a tom-tom, Emma opened her Sent Mail folder.
Son of a bitch.
There it was—the e-mail to Jen with the Rod and Cane attachment. The transmission time corresponded to when she had ducked out to the patio.
She didn't need to be a detective to figure out what had happened—or who was responsible. Obviously Ron had looked at her photos, read both e-mails she'd written to her editor, and realized how much trouble it would cause her if the story ran. He was smarter and more devious than she'd given him credit for. Anger rose within her, but she didn't entirely blame Ron. He'd struck out in revenge for perceived wrongs, but he couldn't have e-mailed a story that didn't exist. If she'd never written it, this wouldn't have happened.
Emma sank onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. What was she going to do? She couldn't retract it. Dan was going to feel so hurt and betrayed. How would she convince him that she hadn't meant a word she'd written? She had to talk to him before he saw the story.
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Chapter Fifteen
Clipped to his belt, Dan's cell vibrated. Unable to take calls in the meeting, he ignored it and focused his attention on Otis and the crisis.
"It's apparent from the Sentinel article that the reporter was privy to our private functions, primarily Auxiliary events,” Otis said. “The women were interviewed surreptitiously, their comments about their personal domestic discipline situations and the Society noted and quoted. Several male members also got some press.” His expression grave, Otis glanced at each board member present.
Jared slid the stack of newspapers to the man on his left. “The article ran on the front of the B section,” Jared said. “I have copies for those who haven't seen it. Take one and pass it down."
Seated on the opposite site of the table, second from Otis's right, Dan waited for the papers to reach him.
Otis continued. “The impact will be twofold. First, the article will draw public censure and reprobation upon the Society, hindering our ability to provide a safe haven for our members. Second, and potentially more devastating, will be the fallout on a select few individuals.” Otis pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose in a gesture that reminded Dan of Emma.
