Taken

by Jennifer Dawson

  Leo pushes Jillian’s thighs apart, not far, just a little nudge, and begins tracing circles along the inner space above her knee. Slow. So very slow.

  Jillian lets out a tiny gasp.

  I try my hardest to avert my eyes, but I can’t seem to stop watching as he inches higher. It’s not obscene, but there’s no question that it’s sexual. It’s not even the most sexual thing I’ve ever witnessed. I grew up in a world of excess. Where we all had no boundaries, and access to anything we could possibly want. I’ve seen people have sex before and this is nothing like that.

  I never responded then, but I’m certainly responding now.

  I bite my lip.

  Leo leans over and whispers something in Jillian’s ear that makes her lashes droop. I want to know what he’s saying.

  Leo smirks at me. “Are you enjoying yourself, Veronica?”

  My cheeks flame and I clear my throat. “Yes, thank you for inviting me.”

  His fingers continue their crawl over Jillian’s skin. “The pleasure is ours.”

  I smile and force my attention off them to the street. It’s Saturday night and the neighborhood bustles with activity. Next to me, Brandon’s leg shifts, abrading against now hyperaware flesh.

  I don’t quite understand how the tension has amped up, filling the car, but it’s all I can think about.

  “Do you want to come to brunch tomorrow?” Jillian asks, her voice breathless.

  I jerk my focus back inside the car. Leo’s hand is even higher up her thigh. I swallow hard. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  For the first time, Brandon speaks. “Jillian, do you think you’d be able to take Veronica shopping for the private party next Thursday?”

  Jillian’s expression widens with what looks like excitement. “I’d love to. We could go after brunch.”

  My brow creases and I risk a glance at Brandon. “Party?”

  He nods. “Once a month The Lair hosts a private party for a very select group of clientele. Each month there is a theme. As part of your job, you’ll be required to attend, and you’ll need to dress appropriately.”

  Jillian grins at me. “Don’t be scared.”

  Leo laughs.

  “Scared?” Why would I be scared of a party?

  Brandon shrugs. “It can be a bit overwhelming for a newcomer.”

  I bite my lower lip. “What’s the theme?”

  Brandon meets my gaze, and his focus is direct and intent on mine. “Latex.”

  The answer confuses me even more. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a fetish party, Veronica.” His attention shifts to my mouth and the words get jumbled in my brain.

  “Oh.” I have no response to this information.

  Jillian offers another bright smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll all be there to make sure you’re okay. We’ll help you sort it all out.”

  Leo squeezes her thigh. “Tell Veronica about your first party.”

  She laughs. “It was…not fun.”

  Leo glances at her and cocks a brow. “All those orgasms you had begs to differ.”

  My lashes flutter with this information. Does that mean? All of them? I risk a peek at Brandon. Him?

  Her expression turns chagrin. “Those don’t count.”

  “Why don’t they count?” Leo asks. “Since I allowed them, this is new information to consider.”

  My brows furrow. Allowed them?

  Jillian straightens. “Umm…”

  He grins at her. “Careful, you’re about to talk yourself into hot water.” He reaches over and strokes a thumb over her jaw. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  I can’t help leaning forward. Wondering where on earth this is going. But the car comes to a halt and Leo pulls back, and winks at me. “This is us.”

  Jillian scrambles to get her purse and other belongings before turning to me. “We usually go around eleven. I’ll text you with the details.”

  “Sounds good.” Nerves slither along my spine. Once they leave this car I’ll be alone with Brandon. And I have…questions.

  From outside, Jillian leans down and says, “We’ll talk tomorrow. I promise.”

  Then the door closes. And I’m alone.

  With Brandon.

  I eye him, shifting into the corner away from him. His blue eyes are intent on mine. His expression one I can’t decipher.

  He smiles. “I owe you a drink.”

  I nod, tilting my chin. “You do.”

  The driver looks in his rear-view mirror. “Headed home, Mr. Townsend?”

  He’s silent for a moment, looking at me as though he’s trying to peer inside me. Finally he says, “What would you think about having that drink at my house?”

  My throat goes dry but I manage to say, “I think that would be fine.”

  “Good.” He glances to the driver. “Yes, home, Gerald.”

  Then he slowly raises the glass and we’re alone.

  He glances down my body before meeting my eyes. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “All right.” My stomach jumps at the mere mention of it.

  “We’re going to have a drink or two, and talk. That’s all.”

  I don’t know what makes me say it, but the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Are you trying to convince me? Or you?”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe both of us.” He rests his arm on the seat in back of me. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve been attracted to a woman that’s as much of a handful as you are.”

  My shoulders square. “That seems unfortunate.”

  “Indeed. But I can’t forget our working relationship, Veronica. I won’t.”

  “Understood.” The disappointment seeps through me like air hissing out of a balloon.

  His dimples flash. “I’ll admit, taking you home doesn’t seem the smartest move.”

  “Yet, you’re still taking me home.”

  “Yes.” He nods, as though to give further confirmation. “It will be a challenge to keep my hands off you.” His gaze darkens. “Especially when I can feel your arousal. Your want.”

  My pulse takes up a throbbing rhythm in my neck. In this moment, it occurs to me, when I blew up my life, I didn’t just change my circumstances. I changed myself as well. In this short time, I’ve stopped being the woman that wants to play things safe. Stopped being the woman that wants to do nothing but hold her standing in society and make up for the fact that I was born female instead of male. I did more than change my profession.

  I changed my perception.

  The woman I’ve become, who I want to be, takes risks. Even if they are scary. Even if they lead me to places I don’t understand. So I throw caution to the wind and state what I want. I swallow hard. “What if I don’t want you to keep your hands off me?”

  He raises a brow. “What are you saying, explicitly?”

  I grow bolder. “I want you to touch me.”

  He tilts his head, assessing. “I think it’s best if we keep things professional.”

  “Because you’re afraid.”

  His expression flashes. “Because you’re about to work for me. You need to see what that looks like first. To experience it without my influence clouding you.”

  “There’s more.” I don’t know how I know, but I do.

  His fingers tighten on the seat, flexing into the leather, and I wonder if he’s restraining himself from reaching for me. If it’s as much of a struggle for him as it is for me. His jaw hardens. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. About the things I need.”

  Unwilling to shy away from the subject, I lick my lower lip. “Like the fetish party?”

  “To start with.” He leans closer, close enough for his body to warm mine. “But there’s much, much more.”

  “Will you tell me?” My voice comes out in a thready whisper, like I’m not sure I want to know.

  “Yes. I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “Because you want me?”

  “That, and b
ecause the longer you work for me, the more unavoidable it will become.” He juts his chin toward the window. “We’re here.”

  The door opens and I stare at the historic mansion that Brandon calls home. I have no idea what waits for me inside, but I want to find out. I’m not backing away.

  We climb out and walk up the steps where he unlocks the heavy wood door. I enter a grand foyer with sweeping ceilings and rich woodwork. It is out of another time, yet something about it is distinctly Brandon.

  Not many men would look at home here, but he does. He wears the opulence and the age well. He peers over his shoulder. “Come with me.”

  I follow, glancing into a parlor lined with bookshelves and antiqued, brocade furniture, past an office with a huge desk. We walk down a hall and he pushes open double doors to a living room with leather couches, a big screen television, and a bar along one wall. Instinctively I guess this is where he spends most of his time.

  He points to the couch. “Sit down.”

  I slide off my shawl, dropping it and my purse on the chair before sinking into the couch. “It’s lovely. Your house.”

  “Thank you.” He walks over to the bar. “Is brandy okay?”

  “Yes.” I watch as he picks up the decanter, the muscles moving under his shirt, captivating me.

  When he returns he puts a snifter in my hand before sitting down in the opposite corner. I decide to make myself at home and kick off my killer heels before tucking my legs under me.

  He tracks the movements, his expression dark, and hungry. Or at least that’s what I want to believe. I take a drink, letting the liquid burn down my throat and settle in my stomach.

  He also takes a drink, hissing a bit before he says, “I want you to know something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t invite women into this room.”

  Surprise sneaks through me. I frown. “I find that hard to believe.”

  He smiles. “I’m not saying I’ve never had a woman here, I’m saying this isn’t where I take her.”

  I push my hair off my shoulder. “Do I want to know?”

  He laughs. “I usually keep them in the parlor, and in the basement.”

  I blink at his word choice, and stumble for something to say. “I see.”

  Those dimples flash. “Let’s talk about the party on Thursday.”

  I straighten a little in my seat. So he’s going to keep it to business after all. I nod. “All right.”

  “Once a month I hold a private party for my upscale BDSM clients.”

  Of course, I know what BDSM is, or at least what it looks like. I clear my throat. “Oh?”

  “As you learned earlier, they are themed. Thursday’s theme is latex. You’ll need to look the part. And you’ll need to be comfortable dealing with things you’re probably not used to seeing.”

  “I can assure you I’ve seen all matter of things. I don’t think it will be a problem.” My voice is ultra sure, ultra confident. I believe me. Kind of.

  He nods. “I’m hoping that’s true, but some of the people who attend will surprise you. I want you to be prepared.”

  “How do you suggest I do that?”

  “The girls tomorrow will help. And I’ll give you research. We’ll talk. Hopefully you’ll have enough time to fake your way through it.”

  I run my fingers through my hair again. “You know how we grew up, surely it won’t be that bad.”

  “It depends. Some nights are more outrageous than others. It’s hard to tell how each event will go.”

  My brow furrows as a million questions stream through my head and I try to sort through them all. I settle on the least confusing one. “The Lair is so successful, why do you do it? It doesn’t seem necessary.”

  “There’s the million-dollar question.” He takes another sip of his drink before continuing. “Quite simply. I do it because I want to. Because I remember the frustration of not having a safe outlet for my perversities. I wanted to give those people like me a place to express themselves without judgment.”

  I can’t stop the flush from creeping over my chest. His words can only mean one thing and I fumble over the question. “So does that mean…” I trail off, unable to complete the thought.

  “Yes, it does.”

  “But…” I frown. “So, what are you saying? You like to dress up in latex?” My mind flashes to images of people in head-to-toe rubber and I can’t help but shudder. Some of my desire cools. I’m not sure if that’s a deal breaker.

  He laughs, a hearty genuine sound that has my lust kicking back up again. Okay, maybe I can learn to live with it. He shakes his head. “No. I do not. But some do, and that’s why I have themes for the month, to allow people to indulge in their kinks. Even if they are not ones I share.”

  My stomach relaxes and I smile. “Is it wrong to say I’m relieved?”

  He shakes his head, then gives me that intent stare he’s been blasting at me all night. “That’s not one of my depravities. But I have many others.”

  My heart pounds in my throat. “Such as?”

  He doesn’t even hesitate and his words send my heart thundering in my ears. “I dominate women. I’m a bit sadistic. A bit cruel. And I’m afraid it’s a non-negotiable for me.”

  9

  Veronica

  I’m not even sure what to make of that statement. I blink at him. “Oh.”

  He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “You’ll see a lot of that on Thursday night, so I wanted you to be prepared.”

  I swallow hard. “And that’s the only reason?”

  “For now.” He meets my gaze. “I did think it was something you should know. It might change your attraction to me.”

  “And…” I clear my throat. “If it’s not okay with me? What then?”

  “I’m not sure what you’d like me to say here.” His words are slow and deliberate. Measured. Like he’s guarding his secrets, and perhaps, maybe he is. “This isn’t a situation I expected to find myself in.”

  “What situation is that?”

  “You have a number of strikes against you.”

  “And those are?” It’s like we’re negotiating, but I’m not sure what we’re negotiating about. This situation is tangled and complicated.

  “You come from a world I want no part of. I don’t mix business and pleasure. I only date submissive women.” He leans forward and puts his glass on the table before turning to face me. “And I find myself in the odd predicament of not wanting to say no to you.”

  I suck in a stuttery breath; it catches in my lungs and makes it hard to get air. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. I only want to expose you, to introduce you. Partly because it’s part of the job I have, and partly so you can make up your mind about it and see how you feel. I’m not going to sway you by using our sexual attraction against you.” He meets my gaze and that look is back. “But understand, this is how I am. There’s no changing it for me. If we ever sleep together, if I ever touch you, I will dominate you. I will crave hurting you. I already do.”

  My cheeks flame what I’m sure is bright red. “Hurt me?”

  He nods. “I understand this is a difficult notion for you to take in. It’s why I’m staying far away from you for the present. Regardless of what I wanted to do to you in the back of that car.”

  Despite the strangeness of his words, a burning desires licks through me. “What did you want to do to me?”

  The air thickens and his expression takes on a type of feral heat. A possession that steals the air from my lungs. “I wanted to kiss you, certainly. When Leo slid his hand up Jillian’s skirt, I wanted to do the same. I wanted to dig my fingers into your flesh and listen to your helpless gasps. I wanted to tear your dress from your body. Bite your neck. Wrap my hand around your throat. I wanted to mark you. I wanted to turn you over my knee, shove your dress past your hips and spank you.”

  I might hyperventilate. I might have a heart attack, right here on this
couch. I don’t even dare breathe let alone interrupt.

  He continues, relentless in his description of what could have happened in the car on the way to his home. “I wanted to shove my fingers between your legs and make you come. And then I wanted to fuck you in the way only I can. In a way that will surely ruin you. Because, Veronica, that’s what I really want. I want to ruin you. I want to ruin your perfect hair and flawless skin. I want your mouth swollen and wrecked. I want to put red marks down your back merely because you’ve taunted me with it all night. I want to bruise your inner thighs. I want you to lie in bed and feel my teeth in your flesh. I want to see those pretty eyes filled with tears and begging. I want to systematically and ruthlessly destroy you until there’s nothing left but aching need for me.”

  I might melt. Just liquefy into heat and longing. I have never even had the imagination to dream a man could think such things, let alone say them. A shudder passes through me, leaving behind goose bumps. I press my thighs together.

  His attention dips to my lips. “That’s what I want to do to you.”

  “I see.” I can’t think of one intelligent thing to say.

  He laughs. “So you can understand why I’m restraining myself.”

  I nod.

  “It’s something for you to think about.”

  “I will.”

  “Are you ready to go home?” He tilts his head toward the door. “I have Gerald waiting.”

  I don’t know what I’m ready to do, but I do need time to think. To process. Because I understand now. Sex with Brandon will not be just sex. It will be life altering. I want life altering. But I need—I don’t know—to prepare for it. I drain the rest of my drink and put it on the table next to me. “Maybe that would be best.”

  “I believe you’re right.” Brandon stands, picks up his phone and texts. “Gerald will meet us outside.”

  In silence we walk through the house, the sounds of my heels clicking across the marble foyer laid in an intricate design. He opens the door and the car is already waiting. We walk down the steps, and when I get to the door, I turn to him. My smile wobbles, but I can still manage it. A question pops into my head, and I don’t resist the urge to ask it. “Did you arrange for me to join you tonight?”