by Jane Henry
“It would discredit the church!” Matt said, his eyes alight. “Damn. Good thinking, Elena. Easy to see who got the brains in your family, man,” he added, nudging Slay.
Slay raised an eyebrow at Matt before turning to glare at Elena. “I don’t like it. You say someone at The Star, but you mean Gretchen, don’t you? Your college roommate?”
Elena nodded. “Yeah, but this is hardly a dangerous assignment for her, Alex. She’s an investigative reporter. She’s dealt with much worse than some corrupt church, trust me.”
Slay huffed out a breath, and tipped his chin to Blake. “What do you think, boss?”
What did he think? He thought he wanted to take the woman, wrap her in a cocoon, and keep her carefully hidden away from anything that could hurt her… But as he was coming to understand, that would hurt her worst of all.
“I’m only going to contact her and pass on the same information I gave you. No more,” Elena promised. “Please. Let me do this.”
Blake stroked his hand over the stubble on his jaw, his eyes locked on hers, and he nodded, once. “One contact. That’s it. If she gets back to you, or wants to meet, you come to us. You will not take chances. And, Slay, see if one of your super-secret-agent friends is interested in some side work,” he said, enjoying the way Slay rolled his eyes. “I know you say that your friend is used to this sort of thing, but I’d feel better with a man on her,” he told Elena. And then to Slay, “I’ll comp his pay.”
Slay nodded, pleased. But Elena looked as if he’d just given her the moon tied up in a bow. She was practically glowing with excitement, and Blake found himself needing to look away before he did something ill-advised… like bending her backward and owning her mouth, right in front of her brother.
“Jesus,” Slay said, glancing at his phone. “I’d better go. I need to drop Elena and get home.”
“Letting your girl play you, Slater?” Matt teased.
Slay grinned, not remotely put out. “Letting her try,” he corrected, rising to his feet. “Makes it all the sweeter when I remind her who’s in charge.”
“Jesus,” Elena gagged, rolling her eyes. “You’re insufferable. How does Allie put up with you?”
“I make it worth her while,” Slay laughed. “You’ll see, baby sis. Someday in the distant future when you’re ready to find a man.” He reached out to tweak her nose.
“I bet you’re right,” she agreed quietly, her eyes on Blake. “I bet I will see.” And she allowed Slay to usher her out the door.
Not two minutes later, he sent the first text.
MisterHaven: Behaving yourself, LanieLove?
LanieLove: Just sitting here in Slay’s passenger’s seat, not taking chances.
He snorted.
LanieLove: Hey, how did you know I was going to suggest that we go back to texting? I’m starting to think you’re kind of a mind reader.
Right. More like he was smart enough to know that the best way to keep Elena off the church’s radar was to keep her away from The Club, and from him, at least temporarily.
He sighed.
And he was also a man who knew that any dominant worth his salt considered his sub’s needs and feelings before his own. If Lanie… Elena… needed time to come to terms with what he hadn’t the smallest doubt they would become, he would give her that time. As much as it galled him, the best way to accomplish both aims, was to keep their relationship online-only for right now.
MisterHaven: I can’t read everyone’s mind, but I can definitely read yours. I bet I know what you’re thinking right now.
LanieLove: LOL. Bet you don’t.
MisterHaven: You’re thinking about how it felt two nights ago when I bent you over my desk. How the wood felt against your cheek. The sound my belt made as I slipped it off. The way the air tickled your skin as you waited for it to connect. The sting, the pain, the rush of arousal. The way it felt when I slid inside you so, so deeply. The way we moved together. The way you cried out when you came...
One minute passed. Then two. He smiled. Just as he was about to type again, she answered.
LanieLove: Blake! You cheated! You knew the second I read those words, that’s all I would be able to think about!
He grinned.
MisterHaven: I never said I wouldn’t cheat, Lanie. Keep that in mind. If I’m going to be dreaming of you every night, I’m going to make sure you’re dreaming of me. Every. Single. Night.
LanieLove: Gah! Enough! I beg you. I am sitting next to MY BROTHER here!! Changing the subject… NOW.
Blake imagined her squirming in the front seat of Slay’s truck and laughed out loud.
LanieLove: So… have I ever told you how I got the name LanieLove? It was a nickname from my Grandma.
Nice attempt at distraction, baby, Blake thought, and he grinned as he replied, happier than he’d have thought possible three hours ago.
MisterHaven: No, you haven’t. Tell me.
Blake found himself eager to hear her answer. He was eager for a lot of things where his LanieLove was concerned.
Chapter 6
Three weeks later, Elena stood in her shower, making the water as hot as she could stand it. It nearly stung her naked skin as she stood beneath the thrumming pulse of it. Work had been horrible. Horrible. The blessing and curse of being a labor and delivery nurse was that when it was good, it was so good, witnessing the miracle of life being ushered into the world, swaddling the tiniest of babies in soft blankets, helping their mamas feed them and hold them… but when it was bad, it was bad. When tragedy struck, it was gut-wrenching, and she'd seen it all.
She did not work at a quaint hospital in the country where happily married husbands and wives came in together and birthed rosy-cheeked newborns. She worked in downtown Boston, and working at an inner-city hospital brought its own pros and cons. Whereas they were chock-full of the most highly acclaimed physicians in the country, fully equipped to deal with any type of medical emergency with state-of-the-art equipment, they were also home to pregnant mamas of all walks of life. And sometimes, it absolutely killed.
Tonight was one of those nights. They'd admitted a full-term mother high as a fucking kite, escorted in by a wide-eyed taxi driver who'd already called the police. Child Protective Services had been notified, and a Boston trooper stood guard at the door with his arms across his chest, ready to book the woman as soon as her baby had been delivered. Labor had been grueling. They'd had to restrain the mother as she howled and fumed against them, and when, finally, they delivered her tiny, sickly baby, whisked away immediately to the NICU, Elena had been ready to hurl.
And now she stood in her shower, hours later, wishing that somehow she could wash away the anger and helplessness she felt at times such as these. Staying in the shower until the hot water began to cool, she quickly rinsed the conditioner out of her long black hair, and shut the water off. She nabbed a huge, thick purple towel made from Egyptian cotton she'd scored for a song at Marshall's, reveling in the luxurious feel of the terry-cloth on her hot skin. She dried her body before tipping forward, twisting the towel around her head, and slipping into the robe she'd bought that matched the towel. She sighed, feeling better already, as she sat on the edge of her bed and nabbed her phone. Three missed messages. She hadn't changed the contact in her phone yet, enjoying the fact that no one but she knew who MisterHaven was. She smiled as she looked at the texts she'd received while in the shower.
MisterHaven: How's it going, baby doll?
Elena was hardly what one would call a baby doll, but somehow coming from the big bear of a man who was decades her senior, it felt fitting. Between not going to The Club, and her crazy work schedule, she hadn’t seen him as often as she’d have preferred, and she missed him. Her smile deepened as she replied to him.
Total shitty day at work, but I just showered and I'm feeling a bit better.
MisterHaven: Sorry you had a shitty day. Just showered? As in, you're still in a towel “just showered?”
She grinned as she
replied. Seriously? You ask me how my day was and the first thing your mind goes to is me, naked, in a towel?
MisterHaven: Naturally.
Heat suffused her cheeks as she laid back, and her robe fell open, displaying her pink, cleanly-shaven legs. Biting her lip, she spread the robe open wider, barely covering her, and pulled it down over her breasts so her cleavage spilled out over the top. She snapped a selfie, satisfied it was one helluva pic. She grinned as she hit send.
Elena's heart tip-tapped a steady rhythm as she waited for him to reply. She jumped as her phone buzzed in her hand. It wasn't a text. He was calling, the name MisterHaven flashing on her screen. She swallowed hard. Was he going to lecture her for being inappropriate? Scold her for taking a risk and putting a lascivious picture of her out there where it could be intercepted by… hackers or something? She hadn't given it much thought until she saw his name pop up on her screen, and she could practically see his scowl, while he loomed over her, arms folded across his huge chest. Shit.
“Hello?” she said, her voice sounding oddly choked as she answered.
“Babe.” God, she loved to hear him talk. His voice was a shot of whiskey, smoldering embers, well-crafted leather. She closed her eyes.
“Yeah?” she whispered. Is this how he'd begin his lecture? Her breath was coming in gasps, and she felt suddenly way too warm even though her robe had practically fallen off.
“Where are you?” he growled.
“On my bed,” she continued in a whisper.
“Oh yeah?” he said, his own deep voice dropping. “Open the robe all the way, gorgeous.”
Closing her eyes tight, she did what he said, slowly tugging so her robe opened.
“You shaved smooth, little girl?”
“Fuck yeah,” she said, a slow, wicked grin spreading across her face.
“Touch yourself,” he said, his voice taking on a hard, commanding edge. She threw her head back and gently stroked her folds. She gasped, shocked at how slick she was, her finger easily gliding over her clit. “Circle,” he growled. Closing her eyes, she circled her clit as he said, an involuntary moan escaping.
“Oh, yeah, baby,” he growled. “That's what Daddy likes.”
Her stomach clenched. Fuck yeah. He continued talking in his low, gritty voice. “You've been a naughty little girl, Elena. So naughty. And now it's time you were punished.”
Her eyes widened, and her hand froze. Was he serious?
“Close your eyes, babe,” he crooned. “That's a girl. I've just dragged you into my office for mouthing off to me. Do I like mouthing off, little girl?” His voice took on a harder edge, and she stroked faster.
“No, sir,” she whispered, grinning.
“Someone's gonna remember to watch her mouth every time she sits down for the next fucking month,” he growled.
Faster, harder, her hand moved as his words went on. “I shut the door and lock it, and bring you to the overstuffed chair in the corner of my office. I sit down and haul you over my lap.”
He paused as she stroked, the tension mounting, her hand shaking.
“You with me in this?” she whispered.
She heard his growl on the other end of the phone. “Fuck yeah.” God, she'd never gotten a guy off on the phone, but the very idea of him with her, fisting his cock as she…
“You're gonna lose that skirt, little girl,” he growled. “I'm pulling it off, and baring your ass over my knee.”
Harder, faster, fuck she was gonna come.
“You're fighting me, but I'm stronger and you're not gonna win this. I pin your hands down, and spank you.”
Her hips rose as she stroked, and his words kept coming, deeper, forced. “I slap your ass and my handprint brands you, my pink fucking handprint straight across your bare skin. You scream, but I keep at it, spanking your ass until your skin is burning, and you're begging me to stop.”
He breathed low in the phone. “Toss the phone on speaker, grab your nipple with the other hand, baby, and squeeze.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered. She was going to die, she was so close, but she did as she was told, hit “speaker” and dropped the phone to the bed as she grabbed her nipple and squeezed, her other hand still working between her legs, bringing her to climax.
“Before you come, you ask me,” he ordered.
“Please,” she pleaded. “I'm ready now.”
“Beg me.”
“Please, Blake, fucking hell I'm gonna die if I don't come—”
“You come before I give you leave, I'll take my belt to your ass,” he barked out, which only made it even harder to hold herself back.
“Please,” she begged.
“Pump your finger while you squeeze your nipple,” he responded.
Fuck. Shit!
“Gawwd,” she moaned, listening to his own groans on the other side.
“I give you one final spank so hard you scream and lurch, but I hold you fast over my knee.”
He paused.
“Touch your clit. Come for me, Elena.”
Her world exploded as she came, her hips writhing beneath her own hand, heat suffusing her cheeks, moaning out loud as she heard his own groans on the other end of the phone. It was the most intense orgasm she remembered ever having, lasting so long she collapsed on the bed, her hand falling to the side.
“Good girl,” he crooned. “What a very good girl.”
She snuggled up on the bed and sighed contentedly, suddenly overcome with exhaustion, as she disengaged the speaker and put her phone up to her ear.
“You there, baby?” he asked.
“I'm here,” she breathed, sighing. “God, I needed that.”
He chuckled, deep and low. “Your spanking?”
She giggled in reply. “I could use that, too.”
“You free tomorrow?” he asked. “I'm manning the floor tomorrow night. Most of the Dungeon Monitors are off. I know we’ve been asking you to stay away from The Club, but screw that. I’m tired of having to squeeze time in between your work schedule and mine. Park in the back and I’ll come get you when you come. You’ll be safe if you’re with me. Are you cool with coming here? You wanted to get to know each other more.”
She smiled. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I miss going to The Club. I’d love to go again.” What she didn’t tell him was that it turned her on to see him, her man, in charge of the teeming BDSM club, and she loved seeing him on “his turf.”
“I have to work until three, then I have a shift at the clinic,” she said. It was somehow oddly satisfying to be talking about just normal, everyday things with him after they'd had epic phone sex.
“Come to me when you're done. Got it?”
She sighed at the command. She loved the command.
“Yes, sir.”
“You sound tired, honey,” he whispered. Her eyes felt heavy, so heavy.
“Mmmm,” she said.
“Okay, baby. Put the phone down but leave it on, and go finish getting ready for bed.”
“Mmm,” she mumbled. She did not want to get up right now, when she was perfectly content and comfortable where she was, but the next words that came through the phone had her leaping out of bed to obey.
“Now, Elena, or that scene we just played out will happen for real when I see you tomorrow. You're tired, but you'll do as you're told.”
She opened her eyes, and spoke into the phone. “I'll be right back.”
Leaving the phone on her bed, she went back to the bathroom to take out her contacts and finish getting ready for bed. Opening her medicine cabinet, she reached for the bottle of contact solution, but realized she was out. Sighing, she looked under the sink for a spare bottle, and a box of tampons tumbled onto the floor. She picked them up, starting to shove them back into the cabinet, when she froze.
They'd been in there… for a few weeks. Or was it a month?
She raced back to her room, flicked her phone screen back on, and tapped open the app she used to track her cycle. No, no, no, no, no!
>
It opened up, bright red lettering at the bottom of the chart. Seven days late.
“Elena?” Blake's voice came through on the speaker of her phone.
“I'm back,” she breathed. “Hey, I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed now, okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good. You have a good night, honey. See you tomorrow?”
She gulped. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Tomorrow. Night.”
She disconnected her phone, laid back on her bed, and dragged her arm over her face. God! It wasn't possible. No way. How?
They hadn't used protection when they'd had sex in his office, but she was on birth control. She practically ran a women's health clinic, for crying out loud. How could she have gotten pregnant?
But even as she went through the thoughts of denial, the conversation she'd had a million times with women who came in her clinic ran through her head. “Is the pill effective?”
There's a small chance of pregnancy, even with regular, consistent use of oral contraceptives.
She loved being on the pill, because it regulated her periods, but until a few weeks ago, it had been months and months since she’d even been with a guy.
Could it really be that in the heat of the moment, with her bottom striped by his leather belt and his huge hands gripping her waist, that the one time they got it on in his office would be the one time she'd get knocked up?
Shit, shit, shit.
She knew she'd have to talk to Blake, but she was not going to talk to him until she'd taken a test. God! What was she thinking? She didn’t know him, know him, like “let’s have a baby together” level knowing someone. She just wasn't okay with freaking him the hell out when there was no need.
She felt her breasts. Not really tender. Was that a pang of nausea? No, not really. She put her hand on her abdomen, as if she'd suddenly feel a baby kick to confirm she was pregnant. No, she was overreacting. She wasn't nauseous, but she was very, very tired. No, the exhaustion came from having a long, shitty day at work, not from being pregnant for God's sake.
Didn't it?
