Master No

by Lexi Blake

  She didn’t know if he had a family. She didn’t know where he’d gotten a name like Tennessee.

  Ten’s eyes focused, as though steeling himself to get through something unpleasant. “When they found me, they weren’t sure what to name me so the social workers nicknamed me Tennessee. Later they changed it to Timothy on the registered birth certificate, but the nickname stuck. The bin they found me in was at a diner close to the state line. In a tiny town called Gayleburg. I was happy they chose to name me after the state and not the town.”

  “Bin? What are you talking about?”

  He leaned back, taking a long sip of beer. “I suppose you should know what you’re getting into. I don’t have a family, Faith. I was raised by the state most of my life. I was found a few hours after I was born. My mother wasn’t particularly interested in having a child so she dumped me in a trash bin outside a diner. A homeless man was dumpster diving and he found me. Got me to a hospital. I was there for a while. There’s a lot of paperwork that goes along with adopting a kid. Most parents wouldn’t touch me because of the legalities.”

  “Because if the father came forward, he would have the right to his child as long as he hadn’t helped get rid of you.” She was stunned. She saw horrible things happen all the time in Africa. It was hard to understand how they could happen here where there was so much wealth. Of course the wealth wasn’t for everyone. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “You’re tenderhearted.” He reached up again and brushed away a tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “You shouldn’t be. You should be hard after what happened to you. You should have screamed today, Faith.”

  And get more people killed? That was what haunted her about Ghana. The people who had died because she’d tried to run. It had been an instinct. Run. Hide. Live. How many people would have lived if she’d stood her ground? “He could have hurt other people.”

  He was back in her space again, looming over her. She could feel the heat from his body. If she took a step forward, her chest would touch his and he would likely know exactly how hard her nipples were. What kind of woman was she that she could hear his story and still be so aroused just being close to him? She should be feeling sympathy, not heat between her legs.

  “You should understand that you’re my first priority. Your safety is my job now. Until we figure out who’s coming after you and why, I’m going to make the calls and the decisions and you’re going to follow me.”

  “I thought we’d already agreed to that.”

  “We agreed I would entertain you for the next few weeks.”

  “Entertain?”

  “Isn’t that what submission is for you, Faith? You want me to make the decisions, but you want to be pleased with them. If we’re going out to eat, you want me to pick the restaurant, but a good Master in your mind would select something that pleases you. I ordered wine for you tonight not because I wanted to force my will on you, but because I happen to know you like a white wine, not the red that would have gone with your filet. You’re not really looking for a Dom. You’re looking to role-play. Tell me something, have you ever truly submitted to a man?”

  Wow. That was judgey. And might point out why her last Dom had left. “I can’t help but be who I am, Sir. I suppose you’re right. I do view it as a form of entertainment and relaxation and yes, I likely would have been disappointed if you had ordered red wine for me. It gives me reflux.”

  She tossed it out because she wasn’t sure it mattered anymore that her digestive issues might make her seem less than sexy.

  “You’re used to being in charge,” Ten explained. “I’m simply trying to understand you. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. People need different things to complete them. You want the fantasy Dom.”

  “If by saying fantasy Dom you mean I want a man who cares enough to know what I like and who wants me to have it, then yes. I want that fantasy.”

  “But you want it without having to ask for it,” he accused.

  “I didn’t have to ask for the wine tonight. You’d already figured it out.”

  “Did you thank me for it?”

  “Thank you. And yes, at the time I did say thank you. I also thanked you for saving me. I’m not sure what else you want.” She was starting to get irritated. He was talking in circles around her. This was exactly what she didn’t want from a man. She didn’t want this horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was missing something, that she wasn’t good enough.

  “And that’s what I mean by role-play. You want your Dom to instinctively know what you need, but you don’t want to give him the same courtesy. You want a man who seems to be dominant, but you’re still completely in control. I’m having this conversation with you because while I might have been willing to play along in the beginning, everything changed this afternoon. You should understand that I won’t allow you control in this aspect. I am in charge of the operation and of you. I will monitor you twenty-four seven. I will be informed of where you go and what you do, and I will select the guards to go with you when I can’t. Every aspect of your life will come under my jurisdiction and with only one real goal in mind—you alive at the end of the mission. So I think we need to talk about our contract because it will have two parts. I’ll be playing two parts, but understand the guard will always trump the lover.”

  “You make it sound like I’m hiring you to play both. I’m not hiring a lover.” Was she? It had seemed like a fun thing to do. Find a Dom. Spend some time with him. Enjoy something with no strings for once in her life. Now it seemed cheap.

  She had to decide between the guardian and the lover. Or she had to pack it up and go home and give herself over to her father and his brand of oppressive care.

  “Faith, I’m trying to be honest with you.”

  She nodded. “And I thank you for it. I think I’ll sleep on it. Do you have everything you need, Sir?”

  He stared at her and for a moment she thought he was going to argue, but he finally nodded and finished off his beer. “Yes. I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.”

  He nodded her way and walked out.

  She needed to start the day over. She needed for things to not get so fucked up. She’d been happy thinking everything was fine. She’d been looking forward to weeks of not having to make decisions, of being taken care of.

  Of pretending someone gave a damn.

  Foolish. She was utterly and completely foolish and she needed to tell Master T…Ten in the morning that she was going home to Houston.

  She was about to walk back to her room and pack her things when she heard it. The sound of a hand slapping flesh and a low, feminine groan.

  “You know I’ll give you what you need, baby. Always. I want to plan my fucking life around what you need. But give me something back. I need a little something, Erin.”

  Another smack. Another low moan. “You wouldn’t take a little, Theo. You would take everything.”

  “Only from you. I only want all of you,” came the impassioned reply.

  She moved away, the intimacy almost too much to bear. She stepped out into the hall and toward the guestroom.

  Wasn’t that what she was afraid of, too? That she would truly find herself giving everything to some man who wouldn’t really care about the gift. Who wouldn’t see it as a gift at all, but rather as his due? When she really looked at it from Ten’s perspective, it did seem like she was hiring a lover.

  Had she intended to take from Ten and give nothing real back? She supposed she thought their needs dovetailed neatly. She was submissive and he was Dominant, but it was so much more complex than that. She wanted to see him as a Dom, but he was a man and he had needs that went past sex.

  She’d expected him to take care of her, never thinking that he might like a little care himself. Not simply sexual care or service. Maybe he wanted someone who saw him, too.

  She stood there for a moment, her hand on the door, her mind on the man in the living room.

  You want your Dom to i
nstinctively know what you need, but you don’t want to give him the same courtesy. Had he been right?

  Did he want the same courtesy? A woman who gave him something he didn’t have to ask for?

  She wasn’t good at this. She was good at treating patients. At connecting dots and coming up with a diagnosis, but sometimes even a diagnosis was more instinct than science. Every field doctor who had ever been forced to take on a patient knew that.

  What did her instincts tell her about Ten?

  He’d stepped back to tell her the story of his birth. He’d been close to her before, crowding her and pressing in on her space until she couldn’t breathe without acknowledging him. He’d touched her hair, her face. He’d been tender until she’d asked about his name.

  Nothing after. He’d expected rejection and she’d unwittingly given it to him.

  He couldn’t know she’d still found him attractive, still wanted him. He couldn’t know she was simply afraid.

  This was why she’d “hired” a Dom. So she didn’t have to make herself vulnerable. So she didn’t have to give him anything of true value.

  So she didn’t have to care.

  Damn it. She already cared about Master T. He’d said she hadn’t thanked him for saving her, for taking care of her. She’d given him words, but he wanted something else.

  She had the feeling what Master T wanted wasn’t sex, but rather affection, tenderness.

  Did she really want to be cold? Did she want all the sweetness to flow to her without giving any back? Now that she thought about it, she could see why Roger had wanted more, but in the end, he hadn’t been the man to draw it out of her.

  Master T might be. She already felt far more for him than she wanted to admit.

  The smart play would be to go to bed and head back to Houston in the morning.

  So why did she turn? Why did her feet begin to move? Not toward her bed, but out to the living room.

  She dropped the questions for the night. If she was ever going to find something real, maybe she should stop role-playing, and that began with giving her Dom what he needed.

  * * * *

  Ten wanted to punch his fist through the wall. What the fuck had that been? Did he have a goddamn brain in his head anymore? He was smooth. He knew how to handle a woman like Faith. They were all alike in the end. They wanted as much as they could take from a man without having to give anything back. Spoiled rich girls were all the same. They wanted a man to pay court to them. Faith wanted to pretend it was something different, that she was submitting when the truth was she was being cosseted and coddled without having to give anything back.

  What would Old Ten have done?

  Hell, girl, of course I’ll be your Dom. Want me to anticipate your every need? I can do that. Want me to spank your pretty ass and give you an orgasm to make you scream, and pretend it was all because I couldn’t keep my hands off you? I’m your man, darlin’.

  New Ten had called her out. Something had happened to him since he’d been kicked to the curb by the Agency. He wasn’t as smooth as he used to be. He was more irritable, more restless. He definitely felt a change in himself since he’d spent those weeks getting to know her. New Ten had pointed out that he wasn’t willing to really do any of it. New Ten wanted more.

  New Ten was a fucking idiot who was about to lose his only way onto that island.

  He had to sleep on the damn couch to top it all off. He stared down at it. One would think given Theo Taggart’s size that he would buy a large couch. Nope. Ten was going to have to cram his body on it.

  Or not. It wasn’t like he slept a lot anyway. He could sit up all night and try to figure out when he’d lost his edge.

  “Ten? Master T?”

  He turned and she was standing there. Great. He could probably head home now and save himself the crappy night’s sleep since she was going to throw him out. “Yes, Faith?”

  “I’ve thought about what you said and you’re right. I am role-playing. It’s a game, a way to relax and get something I need because most of the time I give over to what everyone else needs. I like to pretend that there’s one person in the world who takes care of me. I guess at the end of the day, I’m willing to pay for the privilege.”

  “I don’t recall sending you a bill.” New Ten didn’t seem to be able to shut the fuck up. New Ten didn’t like the idea of Faith McDonald thinking he did this kind of thing for a living.

  Her lips curled up in a self-deprecating smile. “Sanctum sure did. That’s not a cheap club. I suppose I was looking at it like you were a package deal. I pay for a membership, they give me a Dom. Please understand, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t hurt me, Faith. But you have to know the rules of the game changed the minute that man tried to attack you.”

  “Kill me. I think he was going to kill me. At first I wondered if he wanted to kidnap me, but I saw the look in his eyes. He might have ransomed me back to my dad, but he would have sent back a corpse. You saved me.”

  That should have been enough to bond them. Weeks he’d worked at getting to know her, to anticipate her needs. He’d played it well in that moment. He’d held her, comforted her. Then he’d blown it and he knew why. He’d blown it because it felt different holding her. Just for a moment, he hadn’t been thinking about anything but the fact that she could have died and he might never have held her.

  “It’s fine now, Faith. You’re safe here. The alarm’s on and I’m not letting anything get in.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t thank you properly.”

  He stopped. What exactly was she offering him? “If I’m your bodyguard, then I don’t need to be thanked.”

  He should take whatever she offered and get them back on track. He could put on his pleasant mask, spread her legs and give her a great ride. In the morning, she would fall into her role and he would play his. He would let her use him for sex, for comfort, to build up her pride. He could do all of it. All he had to do was take what she was willing to give him.

  She frowned. “I’m not good at this part. This is the part where the dominance stuff comes in and I really need an alpha partner to take over, but I’m going to try.”

  Her face had screwed up sweetly, as though she was determined to get this right. Her seduction techniques lacked subtlety. She walked straight into his arms and sighed as she held him tight. “I’m sorry, Sir. I think today was hard on you, too, and I didn’t do a thing to make it better. I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I think after three weeks of talking every day, well…I should have been better. A better sub. A better friend. I’m sorry and I’m truly sorry for how you began your life. No one should feel unwanted. I hope you know you’re wanted now.”

  She didn’t rub herself against him or start talking dirty. She held him, her hand stroking a line down his back. She placed her head against his chest and relaxed as though she could do it all night, just stand there and hold him.

  What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?

  Women didn’t hug him. They fucked him. They got what they needed out of him. They didn’t sigh and listen to his heartbeat and try to soothe him.

  He waited for her to turn her face up, to offer him her lips, to rub her breasts against him. He understood sex. He knew what he was supposed to do. She did none of those things, simply stood there, holding him until he finally relaxed because there was nothing else to do. He sighed deeply because her warmth seemed to penetrate him and he could smell the lemongrass scent of her hair, feel his breathing synch to hers.

  It had been a shitty day. A shitty month. A shitty year. Fuck, it had pretty much been a shitty life, and he couldn’t remember a single time someone offered him comfort in the form of warmth and a heart beating against his. He’d held Phoebe when Jamie died, but he’d focused on her. His rage, his grief had been spent alone. His mourning had no partners.

  It was right there. It was right on the tip of his tongue to tell her about his brother, to see what else she could g
ive him.

  He pulled away abruptly.

  Faith took a step back. “I’m sorry. Was I wrong to do that?”

  He forced a smooth smile on his face. “Not at all, darlin’. It’s very sweet of you, but it’s getting late. You should be in bed.”

  She grimaced as she looked down at the couch. “You’re not going to fit on that.”

  “I’ve slept in worse places.” It was true. He needed to buck up. He’d gotten soft in his old age.

  “I could sleep on the couch. I would fit much better than you.”

  He wasn’t sure he liked this side of Faith. He preferred the pampered princess. “Nah. I’m good.”

  She stood there for a moment, obviously trying to decide what to do next. “The guest bed is pretty big. I assume this is about the bodyguard part, right? You want to put yourself between me and the door. You could do that if we shared the bed. I’m not trying to…well, I’m not saying I wouldn’t, but not tonight. I think I should probably know you better…I don’t know what I’m saying. Tennessee, it’s late and I would like to share my bed with you. Please come to bed.”

  He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he found himself being led back to her room, his fingers tangled with hers. He watched her move in front of him. He took in how her luscious ass swayed as she walked, how her back was straight, her head held high. Her dark hair was up in a messy bun. It left the nape of her neck exposed and he couldn’t help but wonder how soft the skin would be there. On all her questionnaires she’d said she liked a bite of pain. He wondered what she would do if he stopped her, pressed her against the wall, and set his tongue and teeth right where her neck met her shoulders. He would lick her, getting her taste on his tongue, and then bite down enough to make her shiver and moan in his arms. Barely enough to leave a mark so he could look at it the next day and remember the night before.

  He was suddenly aware of how small she was compared to him. He had to have a half a foot on her and probably a hundred pounds. After what had happened in Ghana, what did it take for her to wrap herself around him like that?