by Desiree Holt
But she was through for the night, at least as far as her own body went. Now it was time to reward her sub for his performance.
She pressed the button to return the board to its upright position then adjusted it even more so Drew was now tilted upwards a same forty-five degree angle. Silently, and with great care, she unwound the straps, one at a time, letting them hang for an Infinity employee to clean later. She left only the wide band around his midriff to hold him in place. With the same precision, she removed the cock rings one at a time, hearing the combination sigh and groan from her sub as the blood began to flow unrestricted again. The thick vein that wrapped around his shaft pulsed.
“You have done well,” she complimented him. “Now it’s your turn to achieve satisfaction.” A tiny smile played at her lips. “I’m guessing that won’t take very long.”
“It will take as long as my Mistress wishes,” he told her in a strangled voice.
“A very noble sentiment, but I think you have earned your release.” She nudged a small footstool over and lowered herself to it. “I think tonight I would like to watch you bring yourself relief. I want to see that strong hand and narrow fingers stroke that cock until your come spills over them onto your flesh. Begin now.”
She stared in fascination as he gripped his penis, stroking slowly at first then increasing the speed of his motion. She did not expect it to take long, especially since she had left the nipple rings in place, the vibrators attached to them on a very low hum. And she was right. In barely more than a minute, his cock pulsed, and semen spilled from the slit to run thickly over the back of his fingers. She glanced briefly at his face and saw it tense with concentration. His breathing was ragged and irregular, and she saw the heavy beat of his pulse at his neck, a sure sign his heartbeat was rocketing fast.
When the aftershocks subsided, his big body relaxed, his muscles no longer straining, his breathing steadier. Completed at last, he lifted his hand and very slowly licked every drop of his cum from his skin. His eyes gleamed as he focused them on her, never wavering until he had captured the last bit of fluid.
Lee smiled at him. “Well done, sub. Very well done.”
She rose from the stool, walked to his side, and bent her head. Very slowly she ran her tongue over his lips, licking the remnants of her taste that remained and capturing a tiny bit of her own essence. He smiled at her, flashing his white teeth.
“Thank you, Mistress Star.”
“You earned it,” she reminded him.
She busied herself releasing the last wide strap and then easing out the nipple rings. She removed the tiny vibrators and set them aside before cleaning his entire body of the oil with wet wipes. Lastly she wiped down the rings and carefully inserted them back into the holes pierced for them, being very gentle with the tender tissue. Before she allowed him to move from the board, she fetched a bottle of water from the tiny fridge in one corner of the room and waited while he drank at least half of it. Then she held out her hand, although she knew he did not need her support. He had not gone as deeply into subspace as she’d taken him many times, so his recovery time would be faster.
She watched the flex of the tight muscles of his buttocks as he strode over to where he had placed his clothes. The entire time he dressed he never looked away from her. When he finished, he stood for a moment, head bowed.
“Thank you for tonight, Mistress Star. I hope I pleased you.”
She laughed. “You always please me, Drew, even though I sometimes feel you keep one last little piece of yourself apart. But we’ll work on that.”
He raised his head and looked for a moment as if he wanted to say something more.
“Yes?” she prompted. “Was there something more?”
“Forgive me for my insolence, Mistress, but tonight I had the feeling you were not, well, totally committed to our playtime.”
She studied his face for a moment and then his eyes, which she had a feeling saw far too much.
“I’m fine, Drew. Perhaps it was just a very tiring week.” She grinned. “I’ll let you distract me more thoroughly next time.”
“Of course.”
But later, as she drove home through the dark streets, she wondered if Drew might not be too perceptive. Despite her best efforts to concentrate on her sub tonight, he wasn’t the one whose image flashed in her mind and kept intruding on her thoughts. Far from it. Every time she looked at Drew’s face, it was Branch Colby who teased at her and ramped up her arousal. Damn!
How had the man lodged himself so firmly in her head so quickly?
Chapter Three
Branch swiveled in his desk chair to look out the window behind him. The entire wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, giving him an outstanding view of downtown San Antonio, including the famous Riverwalk. The location was what had inspired him to buy the ancient building on the site, tear it down, and build this one, keeping the top two floors for Colby, Inc.
He’d waited out the first three days of the workweek, doing his best to keep from checking his cell every five minutes in case he’d missed a call or a text. Not that he had a lot of time to sit around doing nothing. He was on the move a lot, visiting projects in process, some of them in other states, and that required taking his private plane. He had new project proposals to study, reports from his site manager to check out, and myriad other tasks that usually kept his brain fully occupied.
But not this week. Instead, his brain was filled with images of a tall woman with a thick head of sable hair, mysterious hazel eyes, delicate cheekbones, and a mouth that just begged to be kissed. By him, if he was honest enough to admit it. The casual clothing she’d worn to the picnic did little to disguise a body that he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on. Long legs that he could imagine wrapped around his waist. Slender shoulders. High, firm breasts and a nicely rounded ass that he itched to spank, turning the flesh a warm shade of red.
When Max had finally gone home the other night, Branch had stayed in his office a long time, driving himself nuts reliving his brief conversation with Lee Sullivan. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had gotten to him this way. What in hell was it about her, anyway? Maybe it was her cool but friendly manner. Or it could be the fact that since she’d joined the mayor’s staff and first landed on his horizon he didn’t remember ever hearing about her hooked up with anyone. Not that he involved himself with gossip, but he made it his business to know who was doing what with whom. You never knew when you might need an edge with something.
Of course, the reason could be the bombshell Max had dropped on him. Mistress Star. A Domme, of all things. As a longtime Dom, Branch well knew the pleasures of BDSM play, the responses heightened by the combination of pleasure/pain, the power exchange between Master and sub when complete submission was achieved. But the women he partnered with craved that submission as part of their ultimate satisfaction. Lee didn’t impress him as a woman who would submit easily, if at all.
And therein lay his problem. That dumbass stupid bet he’d made with Max. He couldn’t even get the damn woman to give him a call, much less agree to submit to him in a D/s environment. And it irritated the hell out of him. Anyone else would have been on the phone to him at eight o’clock Monday morning.
But Lee Sullivan isn’t most people.
That was the damn truth. And she pushed buttons he didn’t even know he had.
Now it was Thursday morning, and he was done waiting. Point to Lee Sullivan for forcing him to make the next move, a strong signal she was as much about control as he was. He finally asked Karen Jericho, his administrative assistant, to call Mayor Vincent’s office and get his public relations officer on the line. Now.
“Tell her it’s about the grant the mayor’s been after me about,” he added. “That should get her attention.”
It rankled him that he needed something to get her attention at all. He sat in his chair, feet up on the desk, fiddling with a stress ball shaped like a football while he waited for the connection to be mad
e.
“Mr. Colby?” The voice came from the little speaker on his desk. “I have her on the line.”
“Thanks. Put her through, please.”
“Good morning.” Her voice was like low, soft music, soothing to the nerves. No wonder she was so good at talking to the media. She probably hypnotized them. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I thought you were going to call me.”
He snapped the words out before he could think. Damn it. He was already putting himself at a disadvantage and maybe putting her on the defensive. He swallowed.
“Scratch that. I was hoping you would call.”
A low chuckle reached through the wires. “Would I be out of line if I suggested you’re used to people doing exactly what you expect of them.”
He answered with his own laugh. “You’ve got me there. Let’s start over. Good morning, Miss Sullivan, thank you for taking my call.”
“You’re more than welcome, Mr. Colby.” He could hear the amusement in her voice. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“If you recall, I mentioned I’d like to discuss the mayor’s request for a grant in further detail,” he reminded her.
Idly, he picked up a stray rubber band from his desk and hooked his fingers through it.
“And I suggested Mayor Vincent would be the optimum person to have that conversation with,” she reminded him.
“Maybe so, but I’d rather discuss it with you.”
He dropped his feet to the floor and sat forward in his chair. He wasn’t above using a little blackmail to get what he wanted.
“Vincent has told me how important this project is to him. If he wants to move forward with it, then you and I are going to have a meeting.”
She was silent for a long moment.
“Fine. I’m assuming you want me to come to your office? When would be a good time for you? I’m sure your schedule is far busier than mine.”
He heard the touch of amusement again. Was she teasing him? Baiting him? He had become used to people automatically bowing to his will and falling all over themselves to accommodate and please him. It was pleasant, for a change, to have someone challenge him.
“Actually,” he told her, “I had something different in mind. Like dinner.”
Again there was a silence.
“Fine. When were you hoping to do this? I’ll need to check my calendar.”
Little minx.
He laughed. “By all means. How does tonight look to you?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.” He stretched the rubber band. “Are you free?”
“I believe I’m available. Let me check.”
He caught the difference in words and smiled. Finally. A woman who apparently wasn’t impressed by him and who didn’t mind tweaking him a little.
And a Domme. Remember that, idiot. And remember your stupid bet with Max.
“Mr. Colby? Did I lose you?”
He blinked. Had his mind actually taken a detour during this conversation? What the hell? And Mr. Colby? Mister Colby?
“Sorry. Someone brought something into my office. And it’s Branch, please.”
He had the uncomfortable feeling she was having a joke at his expense, a totally foreign experience to him these days.
“I asked you if seven-thirty worked for you? I have late meetings, but that time is good.”
“Seven-thirty is fine.” Eleven would be fine. Whatever time she said. “I’ll pick you up a little before that.”
“Not necessary. Just tell me where, and I’ll meet you there.”
She damn well wasn’t making this easy for him.
“Do you know where Chandler’s is?”
He named a restaurant off the beaten path, in the northern suburb of San Antonio, one where he was least likely to run into people he knew. People who would interrupt their dinner. He could easily explain having dinner with a member of the mayor’s staff, especially this member. He didn’t want any distractions, though. He’d have invited her to his home if he thought she’d accept, but that was something he had to work up to.
“Yes, I’m familiar with it. I’ll see you there at seven-thirty.”
Then she was gone, and he sat there, staring at the phone in his hand. He was still sitting there when the door to his office opened and Max strolled in.
“You look like a man who’s just been asked an impossible question,” Max joked.
“What?” He replaced the receiver. “Oh. No, no. Just confirming a business meeting.”
Max dropped into one of the big chairs in front of the desk. “Well, while you’re having all your business meetings, I hope you aren’t forgetting our little bet.”
“Bet?” Branch raised an eyebrow.
Max threw back his head and laughed. “Nice try on the casual attitude, but I know you. That bet’s been at the top of your mind since we made it. How’s the progress coming in that area?”
“We said a month,” Branch reminded him.
“Double down if it’s less.” His friend grinned. “Of course you could always just pay me now, and we’ll forget about the whole thing.”
“Not on your life.” He dropped the rubber band into a drawer. “You’ll be the one paying up. I’m already making progress, if you must know.”
Okay, so that was a little white lie. Or a big one.
Max’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? Details, please.”
“Uh-uh.” Branch shook his head. “No advance info. Just be aware I have the situation under control.”
“Is that a double entendre?”
“What?” Branch frowned. “No. Don’t you have something to do? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“What I see is a man trying to find a way out of a quandary. But, okay, I’ll let it rest for now. I came by to see if you wanted to catch dinner tonight.”
And didn’t that just figure.
“Can’t. I have a business dinner on the books.”
“Then you must have just made it because I checked your calendar with Karen.”
Shit!
He fudged. “It just came up. I haven’t told her yet.”
“Okay, give me the info, and I’ll tell her on my way out.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Branch snapped. “Don’t you have lawsuits to file or something?”
“I have a clear calendar.” Max grinned at him again. “But since you’re obviously tied up”—he smirked—“I’ll find a client to harass instead.” He paused at the door. “Tell Lee Sullivan I said hello.”
Branch resisted the urge to throw something at the door as it closed.
*****
Lee nodded at the waiter who held her chair for her, settled into it, and looked across the table at Branch Colby. “I always enjoy this place. I’ve never had a bad meal here.”
“Neither have I. They’ve got a great menu, too. No matter what you like, you can find it here.”
“I agree.”
She let her gaze drink in his appearance. He was just delicious. There was no other word for it. And when she inhaled, she caught the subtle hint of his pine-scented cologne even over the blend of aromas from the various foods being served. Looking at him she got the same feeling she’d experienced at the picnic, almost a punch to the gut. There was something so electric about him, so erotically mesmerizing. And dark. She sensed a darkness in him that attracted her as much as anything else. But she wasn’t so sure she wanted to explore it, either.
His business attire tonight was in sharp contrast to the casual clothes he’d worn at the picnic, but not less effective at accenting his appeal. His white shirt was in stark contrast to his tan, the dark brown of his tie and his business suit making the color of his eyes darken to onyx. She wondered idly if there was anything he wore that didn’t make him look mouthwateringly appealing. And then she wondered how he’d look with no clothes at all.
Her nipples contracted painfully, and the pulse in her cunt set up an insistent throbbing.
Stop it!
The las
t person she should be entertaining erotic thoughts about was the man sitting across from her. She would bet a year’s salary there wasn’t one submissive drop in him. And, since she could say the same about herself, she could forget about any sexual overtones and get on with the business of the meeting. If only the air between them didn’t crackle with unwanted electricity.
“I thought a bottle of wine would be nice. You okay with that?”
“Yes, please. That would be nice.”
A glass of something white would probably ease her unexpected attack of nerves. She was just having dinner with him, for god’s sake. What was the matter with her?
He picked up the wine list the waiter had left.
“We should probably decide what to eat first so I’ll know whether we need a red or a white.”
“Oh. Well, you may be disappointed, but I can’t drink red wine. Gives me migraines.” She grimaced. “Annoys the hell out of people when I tell them that. I’ve heard every lecture possible about not pairing a white with any kind of meat.”
He reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. “I personally think people should drink whatever they like. The hell with what their meal is.”
“That’s certainly refreshing.” As casually as possible, she withdrew her hand from his. “I like a Riesling, but I’m open to anything.”
Wait. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. Would he take it the wrong way? Why did she have to be so careful of everything she said to him, as if they were engaged in some kind of verbal game?
You know. Just admit it.
She shoved the devil from her shoulder.
“Riesling it is.” He closed the wine list and studied her.
