“Troy? Are you okay?”
I snapped my attention back to the present and stared at my boss. That was when I noticed Jill placing my orange juice in front of me. I immediately thanked her and prayed I wasn’t blushing. It wasn’t a very masculine thing to do, but I felt my skin flush all the same.
“I’m fine.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“I mean, yes, Master. I’m fine.”
“Better. Do you have anything you’d like to add on the topic?”
I glanced over at Clarissa, then back to Trent. Had I missed something? Perhaps their conversation had taken a trip in another direction.
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
Trent grinned, his eyes glittering with amusement.
“Would you be interested in what I have to offer you? From a D/s perspective.”
While I could coordinate schedules, ensure a vast number of tasks were completed promptly, manage most of his household employees, I couldn’t seem to answer such a simple question.
Or maybe the question wasn’t all that simple.
Trent was asking me whether or not I wanted to submit to him and I had absolutely no idea what to say to that. Did I lust after the man? Absolutely. Would I be interested in something that might interfere with our working relationship? That was far more difficult to answer.
My gaze drifted to the front of the plane, where Brax and Case had disappeared with the two bodyguards. Brax and Case, who were not only Trent’s employees but also submissives. I was still surprised by that news. I’d known them both for so long, but never had I gotten that impression.
I could feel Clarissa’s eyes on me and I wondered what she was thinking. It was obvious she knew more about this than I did. If I could get her alone for a little while, I could ask her to give me a quick lesson in submission. That way I wouldn’t feel quite so … lost.
I had absolutely no idea how this even worked. Was there some sort of transition between the real world and the D/s realm? If so, how would I know? Could one really keep business and personal separate when in such close quarters with someone?
“Come here,” Trent stated gruffly.
My eyes widened when I realized he was talking to me.
After unbuckling my seat belt, I staggered to my feet and walked the few feet to stand beside his chair.
“Kneel.”
I dropped to my knees without conscious thought.
Trent’s hand slid into my hair and he tipped my head back, forcing me to stare up at him.
The sharp sting in my scalp had electricity arcing straight to my balls.
“I can offer you something you’ve never experienced before. Something that could ultimately change your life. Our lives. I want to know if this is something you would be interested in.”
“Yes,” I blurted, because with his hand in my hair like that, I had the overwhelming urge to give this man anything and everything he could possibly want.
“Yes, Master,” he clarified. “That’s how you’ll respond to me from here on out.”
My eyes searched his and I offered a jerky nod.
His hand tightened in my hair, shards of pain shooting down my spine. Oddly enough, the pain was erotic, making my dick thicken.
“Say it,” Trent demanded.
“Yes, Master,” I offered on a breathless moan.
“Very nice, boy.” He released my hair. “Now drop your eyes to the floor. Place your hands on your thighs.”
I did.
“You will remain just like that until our breakfast is delivered. At that point, you may return to your seat.”
“Yes, Master,” I managed, staring down at my hands.
I probably should’ve felt ashamed by my behavior, how easily I was willing to do Trent’s bidding. Knowing that Clarissa was sitting there watching me should’ve had my face heating with embarrassment.
Only I wasn’t embarrassed.
Nor was I thinking about Clarissa or any of the other occupants of this aircraft, for that matter.
My only objective was to do what Trent—Master—wanted. I catalogued my body’s response to the entire situation. My blood thrummed in my veins. My breaths were choppy. My dick was hard, throbbing behind the zipper of my jeans. I was overwhelmed by sensual heat but not a single ounce of shame.
What did that say about me? Was this a normal response for a submissive? Was I really submissive?
“What other questions do you have about the company?” Master prompted, obviously speaking to Clarissa.
Hmm. I was really getting into this. Thinking of him as Master versus Trent seemed taboo almost, definitely adding a sexual undertone.
“Other than their name?”
Master chuckled. “Chatter PR Global.”
“Really?” The word came out on a rush of air.
I kept my eyes downcast, listening to the two of them carry on a conversation as though I wasn’t even there.
“Yes,” Master confirmed. “Have you heard of them?”
“Hasn’t everyone? Wow. I know Ashleigh McDermott is represented by them and she only has good things to say.”
“True,” Master said. “Dylan says his sister is quite pleased with how they handle things.”
“Do they represent you?” Clarissa questioned.
“Not at this time, no. However, I am working with Landon and Langston about diversifying.”
“Into?”
“A talent agency.”
“At that point, would you become a client of theirs?”
“As well as a partner, yes. However, I would also like for you to consider taking me on as a client in the interim,” Master told her. “I will not be renewing my contract with my current agency when it expires. It seems our interests are no longer aligned, and while I do require the skills of a talent agency, I’m willing to hold out for a little while. Handle things on my own until I get things underway at Chatter.”
I heard Jill moving toward us, but I kept my head down. I couldn’t help but wonder what she thought of me kneeling on the floor beside Master.
Was it weird that I truly liked thinking of him in that way?
When a firm hand rested on my head, my instinct kicked in and I looked up.
“Thank you, boy,” Master said softly. “You may return to your seat.”
“Yes, Master,” I replied, holding his gaze.
The heat that ignited there was the reason I’d said it, wanting to ensure that what I’d glimpsed earlier hadn’t been a figment of my imagination.
It certainly wasn’t.
Now, I merely needed to figure out what that meant.
Zeke
I SHOULD’VE KNOWN TRENT HAD an ulterior motive when he invited me to Chicago for this trip. I thought I was going along in a bodyguard fashion, keeping an eye on Clarissa for the time being.
I got the feeling Trent had other plans for me.
The asshole always had an ulterior motive.
“Can I get you anything else, Mr. Lautner?” the flight attendant offered after she’d removed our empty breakfast plates.
I noticed how the girl’s eyes rounded when she looked at me. Her reaction was the same as all the others. She saw a six-foot-eight-inch monster she prayed never visited her in her dreams.
“Only privacy,” I said gruffly, my gaze straying to the pretty boy. The man had been silent ever since we arrived in this cabin, but I noticed him watching me.
I expected the cowboy to come strolling in any second now. He’d been handling the meal and since that was now finished, he would have nothing left to do.
“Of course, Mr. Lautner.” Her voice shook only slightly. “Just hit the call button if you need me.”
I wouldn’t need her, but I nodded, then waited for her to leave before I leaned back and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee and regarded the pretty boy with aloof indifference. The pretty boy continued sneaking glances my way.
“Did I tell you to look at me, pretty boy?”
Those jade-green eyes immediately dropped. “No, Sir.”
Yeah. Exactly what I thought. Eager and compliant.
Damn it.
Trent had set me up. The bastard.
What the hell was he thinking putting me on this plane with a squirrelly submissive? One who caught my attention merely by the way he carried himself. There was no denying he was a good-looking man. Six three, short dark hair, light green eyes, a wide mouth that would look phenomenal with my dick in it.
I knew from the moment I’d laid eyes on Case Rhinehart that he was exactly what I didn’t need right now.
And the chef.
Fuck me running. Braxton McBride wasn’t as muscular as the pretty boy, but he was the perfect size for me. And those emerald-green eyes didn’t hold an ounce of fear. I could manhandle him without ever causing damage.
Yeah. The cowboy was a double dose of what I didn’t need.
Yet I found my interest piqued despite my better judgement.
I continued to eye the pretty boy, ensuring he didn’t lift his eyes.
“What’s the plan once we’re in Chicago?” Ransom asked from beside me.
Ransom and I went way back. Friends for nearly a decade. And while I wasn’t in the bodyguard business, he was. Hence the reason I’d contacted him to help out on this job. Not that he needed the money. No, Ransom Bishop came from old money, but unless you asked, you would never know.
“Trent wants these boys to meet with Justin.”
“Why?”
“Hell if I know.” I smirked. “Maybe he’s looking to add some decoration to the office.”
Ransom’s gaze strayed to the pretty boy. “Well, that’d do it.”
I peered over at my friend once again, gauging his interest in the two. If Ransom wanted these two for himself, I’d certainly hand them over on a silver platter. I didn’t need the fucking headache.
Unfortunately, Ransom’s appreciation was only skin deep. He wasn’t interested in the pretty boy or the cowboy.
“String ’em up naked,” Ransom said. “Maybe in the lobby so everyone can watch.”
Yep, the man was as sadistic as I was.
But he was right. These two would make nice office decor. I could admit I wouldn’t mind seeing the pretty boy tied up and at my mercy. Perhaps trussed up beneath my desk while I worked. I could use the other for a footstool.
Speaking of the other…
The cowboy appeared in the doorway, his green eyes instantly landing on his friend.
“Sit,” I commanded, pointing toward the spot beside the pretty boy. “Better yet, both of you kneel.”
Without a word, the pretty boy inched off the edge of the seat and right onto the floor. His actions didn’t surprise me one bit. He was eager to please. I’d seen it in his eyes when ours met earlier. The cowboy followed suit, moving close.
“I’ve seen you both before,” I said.
Neither of them spoke.
They were good boys.
Exactly how I liked them.
“How old are you, pretty boy?”
The pretty boy’s mouth moved, but the rest of him remained still. “Twenty-eight, Sir.”
“And you, cowboy?”
A small smile curved the cowboy’s lips. “Twenty-seven, Sir.”
“You two like to play?” I asked.
Neither spoke, but I hadn’t addressed one or the other, so it made sense.
“Pretty boy,” I called out. “Answer me.”
The pretty boy nodded his head. “Yes, Sir.”
“Are you collared, pretty boy?” They weren’t wearing collars, but being this was a business trip, it was possible they’d simply left them at home.
“No, Sir.”
“What about you, cowboy?”
“No, Sir.”
“Zeke,” I clarified. “I don’t like Sir. When you speak to me, refer to me as Zeke.”
“No, Zeke,” the cowboy corrected. “I’m not collared.”
“If I insist you strip right here, what would be your answer, cowboy?”
“I would oblige, Zeke,” he said, his voice raspy.
I peered over at Ransom. He offered a shrug as he grabbed a magazine and moved to one of the chairs farther away from me.
He was giving me free rein and who was I to pass up the opportunity?
“Stand,” I insisted. “From here on out, I’m speaking to both of you.”
Both men stood slowly, their eyes remaining glued to the floor.
I took a moment to look them over from head to toe. I definitely liked what I saw. I liked my submissives strong but compliant. And I could tell by the bulges behind their zippers that they were enjoying the fuck out of this.
I decided to call the cowboy’s bluff.
“Strip,” I demanded. “Right now.”
Both men began disrobing, neither looking up from the floor. It seemed they didn’t care that there were others on this jet or that anyone could walk in at any time.
I liked that about them.
In the future, I’d like to see them strip each other.
Admittedly, I was hard on my submissives. My goal was to break them down so I could build them back up. Only, I’d learned the hard way that they couldn’t handle what I dished out. I wasn’t the ass-kissing Dom who made sure they were mentally healthy. I could be mean and I wanted submissives who craved it.
Once they were naked, I openly ogled them, taking my own sweet time, reveling in their vulnerability. Their cocks were hard, bobbing proudly as they stood there.
“If you’re looking for praise, you won’t get it from me,” I stated, wanting to ensure we were all on the same page. “I won’t coddle you. If you want that shit, find a pretty Dominatrix or go home to your mommas.”
A shiver stole over the pretty boy’s body and I got the feeling he was going to be my biggest challenge yet.
“I want you on your knees.”
With a masculine grace that made my dick hard, they both lowered themselves to their knees. All bronzed skin and defined muscle. It was obvious they took care of themselves.
“Do not sit on your heels,” I said. “I want you up on your knees, hands behind your back, heads down, shoulders square. I want to see how hard your dicks are. Do not move until I tell you to.”
“Yes, Zeke,” they said in unison.
My eyes shifted to the door that separated our cabin from Trent’s. I was tempted to find that fucker and beat him within an inch of his life.
What the fuck was he thinking putting me here with these two? He had to know they couldn’t handle me. No one could handle me. That had been proven day in and day out. Never had I found a single submissive—masochist or otherwise—who could deal with my sadistic tendencies. I had the ability to make grown men cry like babies. Why would Trent think either of them was any different, much less both of them?
“Pretty boy? Do you like dogs?”
“Yes, Zeke,” he said dutifully, his eyes never lifting, every line of his body perfectly straight.
“And you, cowboy?”
“Yes, Zeke.”
For fuck’s sake.
What the hell was I supposed to do with them now?
ELEVEN
Clarissa
I HAD NO IDEA WHAT to expect when we stepped out of the elevator on the thirty-third floor of the lavish building set in the heart of downtown Chicago.
I was informed this was the headquarters of Chatter PR Global and it was every bit as extravagant as I’d expected. Lots of marble and stone, detailed finishes along with chrome accents. The portion of the building that I’d seen was modern and expensive. Quite impressive.
When Trent happened to toss the name out there, I’d thought he was kidding. Chatter PR Global just happened to be one of the top three public relations firms in the world and they had an impeccable reputation. The only reason I knew this was through the gossip mill at Devotion. Ashleigh McDermott happened to be an author who was represented by the high-class firm. When th
ey’d agreed to take her on, it had apparently been a big deal. Most authors who were represented by them evidently did very well for themselves.
“Welcome,” the dark-haired receptionist greeted as he pushed to his feet and moved around the desk. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Ramsey. How was your flight?”
“Rather uneventful,” Trent said with a grin. “Which, as you know, is a good thing. How are you, Dale?” His tone reflected his comfort with the man. It was obvious they knew each other well.
“I’m fantastic, as always.” The two men shook hands.
“How’s Jordan?”
Dale grinned widely. “My Knight is doing very well, thank you.” He turned to Troy. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Shelton.”
Troy shook his hand. “Likewise. And please call me Troy.”
“Dale, I’d like you to meet Clarissa Tinsley,” Trent prompted, stepping back and sliding his hand to my lower back as he eased me forward. “Clarissa, meet Dale Cooper. He’s Chatter’s receptionist.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Dale said with a mischievous grin.
“Nice to meet you as well,” I noted, shaking his hand quickly.
Dale let his gaze stray behind me, likely curious as to who the rest of Trent’s entourage was. A second later, when he acknowledged them all by name, I realized no introductions were necessary.
Once the small talk was out of the way, Dale motioned toward a long hallway. “We’ve recently undergone a redesign, but I’m happy to say the construction is completely finished. You should not encounter any stray workers.”
“Is Langston in his office?” Trent asked.
“He is. He said to send you back as soon as you arrived.”
“Thanks,” Trent said, motioning for me and Troy to precede him down the wide hallway.
“I’ll show the boys to Justin’s office,” Zeke said from somewhere behind me. Evidently, they were here for a job interview as well.
We passed what appeared to be a large conference room before we walked through a set of opaque glass doors, where the space opened up. Three offices outlined the space with a cozy lounge area in front of them. I could hear several voices coming from below. My attention turned to the stairs briefly as Zeke led the way for the others. Deductive reasoning said Justin’s office was down there.
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