by Dakota Trace
“I’m gonna beat her arse!” The threat escaped through his gritted teeth as he surged out of the computer desk chair.
* * * *
Myrna snuggled lower. Despite the faint urgency from her bladder, she refused to give up the sleepy warmth surrounding her. She knew she’d fallen asleep in her chair and shouldn’t be this comfortable, but she was reluctant to let go of the vestiges of sleep. That was until a masculine bellow startled her in wakefulness.
“Myrna Marie Doherty!”
Myrna’s eyes flew open in surprise. She gazed around at her bedroom in disorientation. How had she gotten here? The hazy recollection of being held – no carried, she decided-astonished her. It must have been Amery who had carried her to bed. Her cheeks began to burn. He’d actually picked her up. They were both too old for that nonsense. Why hadn’t he just wakened me?
The sound of her bedroom door hitting the wall had her rolling onto her side to see the entryway to her room. Amery’s thick body filled the opening before he strode inside with jerky motions. As his face came into view, she tried to scoot away.
“Don’t move!”
With his gray eyes glittering with anger, it was quite obvious he was pissed. Before she could scramble out of bed, he launched himself at her. A startled ‘oomph’ escaped her as she found herself pinned under two hundred pounds of masculine fury. Instinctively she struggled against his pinioning hold. Wiggling, kicking, and even smacking at him all to no avail. With his superior strength, she found herself flat on her back with both arms pinned above her head by one firm hand, while the other caressed her cheek.
“Let me go! Amery, what the devil do you think you are doing…”
“Silence, slave!” His dark command had her heart pounding frantically. Her eyes darted away from his intense gaze, even as an illicit thrill shot through her. Under the flannel of her gown, her nipples hardened into tight peaks. It’s just a physical reaction to having a man in my bed for the first time in years. It’s not because of his dominance, or the fact I’ve wanted him for so long. Even as she half-heartedly tried to convince herself, her body made a mockery of her denial. Her nipples remained hard, her heart raced, and between her thighs, the traitorous flesh began to weep.
“Look at me, slave.” The harsh demand had her responding despite her desire not to. Her eyes met his. The anger was still there, but under it she could see hurt. Hurt? That can’t be…
“When were you going to tell me?” The thumb on his free hand ran over the corner of her mouth, before sliding down her neck to her shoulders, then traveling out and up her out-stretched arms.
“Tell you what?”
His mouth firmed with displeasure, as a frown appeared between his eyes. “Are you sure you want to play this out? Are you forgetting that as the person who holds your Power of Attorney, the bank has to call and advise me about Grant closing out your accounts?”
Her breath caught in her throat as uncertainty filled her. When she’d spoken to him last night she honestly hadn’t thought about the fact that the bank might contact him. It wasn’t until later in the evening that she’d thought about it. What else did he know? Uncertainty turned into fear. Did he know about Grant’s call? Her lips parted on a nervous breath before she shrugged. “I don’t know how he even got the money out of the account.” She tried to tug her hands free, but stopped when he tightened his hand around them. “I was planning on calling the bank this morning.” She pushed up with her hips. “Let me up. I need to call them now - before it gets any later.
“It’s nearly three o’clock in the afternoon, Myrna.” He pressed her hips back down with his own. She nearly swallowed her tongue when she felt the impression of his erection against her mound. A rough hiss escaped him before he ground against her, his eyes darkening even as his breathing became more erratic.
“Three! I need to…” She wrenched on her arms before she kicked out with her legs. When he held her so effortlessly she realized she wasn’t getting free until he decided to let go, his actions had the beginnings of desire inside her melting away.
“Stop it!” His hand slapped down on the rounded curve of her hip even though his hips continued to rub against her. Through the layers of blanket and flannel, she felt the thud of his palm against her flesh. It had her freezing while a different type of fear simmered in her veins. She stilled even as she felt her response - the embers of her need sizzled. She shook her head in denial as she realized she wanted his domination. A moment later he jerked his hips away from hers, but a dark flush filled his cheeks and a glimmer of regret flicked in his eyes.
“Son of a bitch.” He rolled off her. She nearly cried out a denial, until his words to her registered. “I’ve already contacted the bank.”
Her heart began to pound again. She slowly sat up, pushing her fear, her desire – everything from her mind that didn’t pertain to Grant to a distant place. “You did?”
He gave a quick nod before rolling into a sitting position. She watched as he ran his hands through his hair. “Get up. Dinner will be ready in less than half hour.” He stood.
He was almost to the door when she found her voice. “Amery, what did you find out?”
“Get dressed. We’ll talk about it at dinner.”
“Okay.” She moved to the edge of the bed. She was just reaching for her robe, when his voice rasped over her once more.
“And Myrna?”
She looked up from tying her robe.
“You had better come up with a good reason for not telling me last night, or you’ll find yourself draped over my knees with my hand warming your ass.”
Her mouth opened and closed several times. “But I’m not your slave!”
His eyes turned cool before his mouth hardened. “It won’t matter. You’ll find yourself there just the same.” He turned and stalked out of the room.
Chapter Five
Standing in the kitchen, Amery wrestled not only with his temper but his unruly body. Of all the times to get a hard-on, Alastar! Myrna is never gonna think you have her best interests at heart when your dick is hard as iron from a simple brush of her body against yours.
Jerking open the fridge, he pulled out a half full litre of milk for Myrna and a bottle of Guinness for himself. Behind him on the table, he’d prepared a simple meal of Irish soda bread and coddle for them. The savory scents of ham, sausage, potatoes, and onions with a hint of parsley in Myrna’s favorite stew had been teasing him all afternoon and hopefully would put Myrna in a good enough mood that she’d talk freely to him.
He was just setting a glass of cold milk and the cold bottle of beer on the table when Myrna entered the kitchen. Her flannel gown had been replaced by a faded jersey dress which had once been emerald green and a pair of comfortable embroidered ballerina slippers. Despite the worn look of the dress, Amery’s mouth went dry. The dress flowed over the swells of Myrna’s body while accenting them. The fitted top hugged her generous breasts before flowing down to a gently flared skirt that barely brushed her knees. Damneigh, how am I supposed to keep my mind on what happened when I want to toss her down on the table and have her for dinner?
He tried to speak, but had to clear his suddenly tight throat before he was able to force even the simplest of words out. “Ah…dinner is ready.”
A hesitant smile crossed her lips before she nodded. “Yes, I smelled it before I got half way down the hall. Thank you, Alastar, for making my favorite.” She brushed by him while heading to the sink to wash her hands. The subtle scent of vanilla washed over him and made his cock leap behind the fine linen of his slacks. Cursing under his breath, he pulled the chair out and sat down, effectively hiding the tented material of his slacks. Myrna would never take this discussion seriously if she spotted his erection.
* * * *
Rinsing her hands off, Myrna tried to ignore Amery’s commanding presence. She had to keep her head with him. For once he wasn’t going to be bailing her out of trouble again. She was over sixty years old now. She wasn’t a
single mother with a small child anymore, who needed a knight in shining armor to rescue her. Now all I need to do is convince Amery of that.
After drying her hands on the dishtowel next to the sink, she joined Amery at the table. Her stomach rumbled as she reached for the spoon next to her bowl.
“When’s the last time you ate a full meal, Myrna?”
The sharpness of Amery’s voice had her choosing her words carefully. “Yesterday.” She lifted the spoon to her mouth.
“Before or after you showed up at the club?”
“Before.” She shoved the spoon into her mouth before he could ask another question. Hopefully if she kept her mouth full, the questions would stop until after she’d eaten. She closed her eyes when the hearty taste of potatoes and spiciness of the sausage burst on her tongue. Amery was a damn fine cook.
“That’s dangerous with your diabetes, Myrna. You should’ve eaten something before you fell asleep in your chair. An Irish cream coffee doesn’t suffice.”
Wiping her mouth with her napkin, Myrna tried to hang onto her temper. “Thank you for the lecture, Amery, but I am an adult. While I was too upset last night to eat a full meal, I did have a light snack of cheese and crackers. I’m not an idiot. Whether you believe it or not, I do know my body better than anyone else does.”
Amery’s gray eyes began to glitter with desire. “For the moment. One day soon, I’ll know every inch of you better than you know yourself. From the top of your head to the bottom of your toes and every delicious inch in between – including those delicious looking nipples.”
The rosy heat filling her face seemed to amuse him. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he reached for his Guinness. He cradled the bottle between his palms even as he grinned at her.
“Why are you so shocked, Myrna? Every time I’ve ever watched you in a scene, it was all I could do to not beg Grant to let just let me touch them – taste them. They’re such a deep pink, I am certain they’d turn raspberry red for the right Dom.”
Myrna drew a sharp breath. Her womb fluttered despite the trickle of unease the word Dom brought out. Under the fitted top of her dress, said body parts tightened at the idea of his sensual mouth tormenting them.
As his gaze fell to her chest, she was secretly glad all of her everyday bras had been in the hamper. It had left only the long line plunged bra she normally wore under her two formal gowns clean. The extra padding in the cups kept her now tightly beaded nipples from his intense gaze. Thank God he can’t see through clothing. When he opened his mouth to speak again, she held up a hand. She had a panicked thought he was gearing up to tell her everything he wanted to do to her body. She didn’t know how to handle Amery the Dom. She needed her friend back.
“That’s enough, Amery. I don’t know what happened to my friend, but I’d really like to have him back.” She squared her shoulders. “You asked why I didn’t tell you last night about the call from the bank?” She tossed her napkin down next to her bowl. “It’s because the man I spoke to on the phone last night wasn’t asking as a friend. He was acting like an arse because I didn’t do what he wanted or expected. Frankly it surprised me. You’re the last person I thought would pull something like this.”
Her piece said Myrna moved to leave, but her butt had barely lifted off the chair when his voice washed over her.
“Unless you want to find yourself over my lap with my hand coming down hard on your arse, you’ll sit back down.”
Her heart pounding, she froze. Her instinctive response to his tone was surprising. Even though she’d been out of the scene, she remembered that tone well. There had been hints of it in the past but this was the first time she’d slammed full bore into his Dom persona. She dropped back into the chair, her head lowering instinctively. Internally she cursed. Damneigh, Grant taught my body too well. Tears pricked at her eyes. She didn’t want to do this. This submissive side of her scared the hell out of her. I have to be strong. I never want to go through what I went through with Grant again. I won’t survive it.
“Now, you and I are going to have a discussion. There’ll be no lying or I will spank you, Myrna, and only the Lord knows what’ll happen if I get you over my knee. Nod if you understand.”
Myrna slowly nodded after placing her trembling hands in her lap.
“All right, then. You do understand I’ll always be your friend, no matter what tone of voice I take with you? The only thing that will change our friendship is if you give me your submission.”
She licked her suddenly dry lips. Lifting her head, she peeked at him through her lashes. Every part of her wanted to protest, to rail at him. She didn’t want to lose her friend, but in the mood he was in, she was afraid of what would happen if she spoke out of turn.
“I can see the wheels turning in your head. What is it?”
A heartfelt sigh escaped her. “That’s what I’m scared of, Amery. Losing you as a friend just to scratch an itch which will eventually fade isn’t worth the temporary physical pleasure you might give me.”
His eyes warmed briefly before returning to the calm confident gaze he normally wore during training. “Who said you were going to lose a friend if we become Master and slave?”
She lifted a trembling hand to her hair. Damn, I hate the fact he makes me feel like a young girl fresh out of the school room. I’m a grown woman. “You did.” She dropped her gaze when he moved forward. A tingle of awareness flowed through her when his hand touched her cheek. When he coaxed her face up to his, she was surprised to see an extraordinary amount of tenderness in his eyes.
“What’s makes me your friend, Myrna?”
She searched his face, confused. “I…you...” She frantically searched for a response which would please him.
“Stop over-thinking it.” His thumb brushed over her lower lip. “Just tell me what makes me your friend.”
A hesitant smile crossed her face. “You care about me.”
He gave her a warm smile. “That’s right. I care about you. Isn’t that the most important thing between a Dom and his sub?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Grant told me it was submission.”
He shook his head. “Sounds like something he would say. He was wrong. Without caring, there can be no trust, and without trust there can be no submission. You have to have caring or you’ll never have true submission.” He pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. Raising his head he brushed a tear away. “That’s what I want from you, Myrna. When I become your Master, sweetheart, the friendship we have will develop into something more infinite and lasting.” He gave her a rueful smile when she started to pull away from her. She was sure the fear she felt was obvious to him. “But I’m getting ahead of myself again. I can wait a little bit longer. Not much, mind you…but I’ll warn you before I pounce.”
Her fear which gripped her slipped away once more as her humor was tickled – her friend was back.
“Now tell me what happened last night after you left the club while we finish our meal.” He leaned back in his chair before reaching for his spoon.
Giving a soft sigh, she spilled everything to him as they ate. Well almost everything. She refused to think about the phone call from Grant, so she never mentioned it to Amery. Her reasoning was sound to her own mind. She wasn’t going to see him, so it didn’t matter that he called. As soon as her finances were in order again, she was divorcing his cheating ass. Aside from that, Amery had once threatened to kill the other man if he as much as tried to breath the same air as Myrna again. The last thing she wanted was Amery in jail – even if most people – including herself would consider it justifiable homicide.
* * * *
After their dinner, Amery led Myrna into her living room. After seeing her settled once more into the overstuffed chair he’d found her in earlier, he knelt in front of the hearth and stroked up the embers. After adding several small pieces of wood to the fire and watching them catch, he straightened. His gaze landed on the trio of pictures Myrna had proudly displayed on the mahogany mantle
A silver framed picture of Caelan sat in the center and was flanked by a picture of a young Olivia and another of Olivia and Caelan together. Her family, he thought as a pang of longing struck at him. His parents were gone and he’d been an only child. There had been no siblings, nieces or nephews for him to dote on. And after a severe case of the mumps hit him when he was sixteen, there had been no chance of him ever having a family of his own. The idea that Grant had thrown Myrna away because she couldn’t have any more kids after Caelan infuriated him. The arsehole evidently didn’t realize what a treasure he’d had in Myrna or in his son. The man was a gold plated idiotic fool. He should’ve been happy with what he had. Instead he chased his dream of his great family dynasty. According to Caelan, at last count, Grant Doherty had nine children by eight different women. Some dynasty.
Dusting his hands off, he settled into the chair adjacent to Myrna’s. He murmured his thanks when she handed him a cup of the Irish coffee sans Bailey’s. The creamy taste of the half-cream laced coffee tasted wonderful after the sharp bite of the Guinness he’d consumed with dinner. Cradling the warm cup in his palms he took a second generous sip before setting it down on the table between him and Myrna.
“So, I contacted the bank this morning. I have some rather disturbing news.” He watched her face very carefully as he told her of the results. “They claim you called them and approved of the release of your funds into an American account in Grant’s name. According to Mr. Spurnman, the teller spoke to a woman who identified herself as you and provided your security code.”
Her eyes grew wide before they narrowed. The furrow of her brow before she slammed down her coffee cup told its own story. There wasn’t even a remote possibility Myrna would’ve given a single Euro to Grant. Not after he financially wiped her out when he left and Amery knew it.
“I never called the bank and authorized anything. Surely you don’t think I would be that stupid!”
