No Rules (White Label Book 1)

by Ann Steele

  "And you promise Katya will check in twice a day? In person not on the phone?" My mother continued her tirade of concern. My dad grabbed her elbow, pulling her away.

  "I promise, mom," I called after her, slamming the door, dashing straight to the drawer she hid my cell phone in. I turned it on, thirty-two messages from Lance, I deleted them all without reading them. Sixty-four messages from unknown numbers, assumedly from journalists, not one from Killian.

  I dialled his office, it's not right, him being alone after what he we went through. He needs someone with him, someone who cares, like me.

  "Hello, Killian White's office, this is Muriel speaking, may I help you?"

  "Muriel, its Abigail Koch. Is Killian in his office?"

  "No, he's working from home today. Between two and three he is going to the gym, he will call again when he gets home at 3:35 to let me know he's home. I'm not sure he is okay, Abigail."

  "Well, he can't be. He's alone."

  "He's always alone. I think he likes it," you could almost hear her shoulders shrug through the phone. "Let's face it, he's Killian White, if he didn't want to be alone, he wouldn't be. Hell, I'm a happily married woman, old enough to be his mother, who thinks he's an asshole and I wouldn't say no if he wanted to spend, ahem, time with me."

  I rolled my eyes. Is there anyone Killian can't seduce? Obviously, he needs someone special. He just needs to realize it. And I’m going to help him do just that.

  "What's his address, Muriel?"

  "I'm sorry, Abigail, I'm not permitted to give that information out."

  "I plan on turning up on his doorstep naked with the finest brandy money can buy and if you don't tell me where he lives, he'll find out you stopped it happening on Monday."

  Muriel hissed an upstate New York address at me.

  "Thanks Muriel," I grinned, dropping the call to pull on my sneakers.

  I pulled up outside Killian's mansion ninety minutes later. The glow in the dark clock on my dash said it was 1:45pm, he should be home getting ready for the gym. Leaning out of the car window, I pressed the buzzer on the pillar holding the wrought iron sliding gate in place.

  "Yes," a foreign woman answered.

  "It's Abigail Koch, I'm here to see Killian."

  "He is not expecting anyone. Goodbye." The intercom clicked as she hung up. I sighed, trying again.

  "I'm naked, I have brandy. Do I need to text him to tell him you ruined his surprise by not letting me in?"

  She didn't reply. The gates swung open. I pulled into the gravel driveway, my rusting car squealing to a halt behind a swanky BMW M6. The double oak doors opened. Killian leaned in the door, wearing only white jogging pants, his muscles flexing. Oil glistening on his body. I inhaled, ignoring the heat between my thighs.

  "You're not naked," he observed as I got out of the car, "and there's no brandy."

  "I'm sorry," I shrugged.

  "Don't worry," he grinned wickedly, "it is not an insurmountable problem, Abigail." He grabbed my hand pulling me into a stunning open plan living space. My jaw almost hit the white marble floor. I scanned the airy, open space. A black leather sofa sat in a recess in the floor, pointing to a flat screen TV bigger than my entire apartment. Floor to ceiling windows filled one side of the room, opening out on to breath-taking mature gardens. Killian leaned over a glossy marble bar, pulling out a ruby bottle.

  "The brandy," he said, shoving the bottle in my hand. "Now get naked."

  "Don't you want to talk?"

  "Not really," he shrugged, "but I will if it means you get naked quicker."

  "But you've been on your own."

  "I've been in work and Ingrid is here," his expression darkened. "And my father called."

  A small, frail woman in a grey pinafore shuffled into the room clutching a yellow dust cloth in her bony fingers. She turned on her heel at the mention of Killian's father.

  "That must've been nice?" I asked.

  "No."

  "No?"

  "No."

  "But it's nice he was worried about you, right?"

  "Wrong, he wasn't worried, he was making sure I was dead, so he could lay claim to my fortune, but I don't want to talk about him. I want to talk about you getting naked."

  "Fine," I held up my hands, my fingers closed around the fancy brandy, "I'll get naked on one condition."

  He closed the distance between us in one stride, bringing his face to mine. I almost shed clothes the second I locked eyes with emerald gaze. I held my breath, drinking in musky scent.

  "And what's that," he growled in my ear, his teeth grazing my sensitive earlobe. A shudder ran through me.

  "I'll get naked and submit to anything you want if you tell me about your father once we're done."

  "And why would I do that once you've already done everything I want?" His lips grazed mine, my legs trembled.

  "Because if you don't, you'll never see me naked," I lied, clamping my hand on his shoulder to keep myself upright.

  "Fair point," he said, scooping me into his arms.

  "Where are you taking me?"

  "Where I take all the women lucky enough to cross my threshold. My dungeon. You saw my whip cuffs, Abigail. You know what I'm into and you still said anything."

  "You really have a dungeon?" I gulped. Butterflies danced in my tummy, but my pussy tightened, soaking my panties.

  "I really do," he carried me to basement, pulling a key from a chain around his neck to open the heavy, steel door. He dropped me to my feet in a soundproofed room. A large bed dominated the room. Chains and cuffs hung from the posts standing at each corner. Machines, whips and restraints filled every inch of wall and floor space. Nipple clamps and butt plugs lined a table at the end of the bed. I chewed my lip.

  "W... What do you want to do me?"

  "Spank your fine round ass until its red and glowing then fuck you until you struggle to remember your own name," he grinned. "But don't worry, you'll enjoy it. I'm all about pleasure, baby."

  I eyed the whips hanging on the walls,

  "Pain can bring pleasure like nothing you ever imagined, Abigail," he told me, kissing my neck.

  "Okay," I agreed. He pulled me to a leather bench. Cuffs for my ankles and wrists sat at each end, waiting to hold me in place.

  "In the interest of full disclosure," he said, stepping away from me, leaving me cold and shaking in his torture room. "You can psychoanalyze me all you want. Many women before you have tried. It won't work. I won't ever love you. I don't do love."

  "Maybe," I said, not truly believing it. Everyone does love, even people as fucked up as Killian White, "but if, on some level, you didn’t want to talk about your father, you wouldn't have told me he called."

  He shrugged, reaching for my shirt buttons.

  "I guess I do want to talk to someone, but I won't ever love you. We'll never be a couple, remember that when you're heartbroken and sobbing over me. I did warn you."

  "I don't believe you. The real Killian, the one who cared for me on the beach is capable of love."

  "I never said I wasn't capable of it, I said I don't do it."

  My shirt fell to the floor. He kicked it across the black, glossy tiles. Next, he reached for my leggings, peeling them down my hips, holding my waist as I stepped out of them. In my sheer bra, with the cold air in the room, my nipples were rock hard. Goose pimples covered my skin.

  "Did you forget to pay the heating bill?"

  "You will warm up quickly, Abigail, trust me." His lips moved to my neck. He nipped at the curve where it met my shoulder, nibbling enough to tear a small squeak from me. He reached around effortlessly unclasping my bra. It fell to the floor. His lips moved down my collarbone, trailing between my breasts. One hand reached for my right nipple, pinching it hard, his teeth assaulted my left nipple. His second hand moved to my panties, shoving them down my thighs before finding my clit. I gripped his shoulders, my knees weak and shaking. My stomach tensed. The pleasur
e and pain proved too much to take with the added anticipation of him spanking me. I came quick and hard, my knees buckling. He caught me in his arms, smirking at me.

  "I told you, I'm all about the pleasure."

  He carried me to the ominous padded leather bench, resting me on my stomach over it. Thick leather straps cuffed me down, holding me still. Ass in the air, naked, I was completely at his mercy. He moved behind, hush baby soft hand stroked my behind, warming my skin.

  "Your safe word is red. Yellow is no harder, green is okay. I need you to give me a color after stroke, at least until we learn each other's limits, understand?"

  "Yes."

  "Yes, sir. In this room, you are my submissive and you will address me as sir."

  "Killian..."

  He brought his hand down on my left ass check. a loud clap reverberated through the room, my ass quivered. I shrieked.

  "Yes, sir," I said quickly, not sure if liked this game.

  "Red, yellow or green?"

  "Yellow, sir."

  He caressed my sore ass cheek, gently smoothing his hand over my reddened skin. His touch warmed me, heat flooded my core, I closed my eyes, sinking into the bench. A finger stroked between my pussy lips, slipping through the juices building between my thighs.

  "Green," I sighed, resting my cheek on the smooth, cool leather bench. It stunk of chlorine bleach, a comforting scent, given my position.

  Killian slapped my right ass cheek. I yelped. The sting traveled up my ass, creeping to the small of my back.

  "Um, green, sir."

  He bent down, kissing my raw ass.

  "Don't tell me what I want to hear, Abigail, tell me how you feel. This won't work if you lie to please me."

  "Green, sir," I said more confidently.

  He slapped my right ass cheek, then my left in quick succession. It stung, like a biting, burning itch. My pussy clenched.

  "Green, sir."

  Two more hard spanks followed quickly.

  "Green, sir."

  My body burned. I struggled in my bonds, fighting to lift my ass higher to expose more of my wet pussy to him. I needed him inside me like I've never needed anything.

  He slapped me harder, slapping his palm off my punished ass.

  "Green, sir," I yelled through his assault. It hurt like fuck, it stung, my eyes watered, and my ass was on fire, but I wanted more. The pain wasn't like normal pain, it was hotter, more sensual. It lit up nerves in places I didn't know I had nerves.

  After five minutes, my ass throbbed, my tears soaked the leather bench, I gasped for breath. Killian stepped back, sucking air through his perfectly straight white teeth.

  "I didn't say red, sir," I mewled, aching for his touch.

  "You've had enough, Abigail. Well done. I've never experienced a sub as willing as you."

  My chest heaved.

  "Please, sir, I need you inside me,"

  "I guess you need a reward."

  I strained to turn my head. The sound of his pants hitting the floor sent spikes of desire rushing through me. Wetness soaked my inner thighs. He slipped a hand under my belly, lifting me in my leather cuffs, aiming his dick at my hole. His fingers reached to my clit, expertly playing me until I clenched my sore ass, fighting off the dawning climax. Hard, without warning, he slammed into me balls deep, thrusting so hard his thighs slapped off my stinging ass cheeks, he balls whacked into my thighs. His fingers kept an even pace on my clit, no matter how frantically he ploughed into me. My pussy clenched around his dick, I screamed his name, so loud I almost deafened myself. The climax shattered me, I slumped to the bench, breathless, spent, even of the energy to speak. Killian spewed his seed into the condom, his dick buried deep inside me.

  Still seated inside me, he paused, catching his breath, stroking his fingers over my spine.

  "Are you okay, Abi?

  "Mmmm," I breathed.

  The cuffs came loose, I was pulled from the spanking bench, cradled in Killian's arms. He bent, yanking the plastic off the oversized, four poster bed, resting my sweltering body on crisp, cool sheets. He crawled on beside, pulling me into his side. For an hour, I lay dazed, gazing at the ceiling while Killian played with hair, kissing my forehead.

  ***

  "If we're sleeping now, can we go to your room?" I yawned, stretching my aching limbs. the starched sheets scratched my sore ass.

  "No."

  "No?"

  "No."

  "Why not?" I sobbed, "I don't want to sleep in your dungeon."

  "Then go home."

  "Please, Killian," I sniffed, peeking up at him from under soggy lashes. He sighed, rolling off the bed.

  "I have a guest room. It's the best I can do. No-one goes in my room, only me."

  "Will you stay with me?"

  "I don't sleep with women, Abigail, I fuck them."

  "You slept with me on the island."

  "You'd have frozen to death if I didn't."

  "Just until I fall sleep."

  "Fine but not a second longer."

  He pulled me from the bed, carrying me to the guest room up a grand, spiral staircase... He carried me into a minimalist but tasteful grey and white bedroom, gently laying me in the bed, pulling the fresh sheets over my naked body. He rested, still naked, on top of the covers.

  "Tell me about your dad," I asked rolling into him.

  "He called. Asked if I was dead, I said no. We said goodbye. End of story."

  "Killian..."

  "What?" He shrugged.

  I pulled myself upright.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Home. You promised. Now you never get to see me naked again."

  "Fine," he sighed, pulling me back into his arms. He stared up at the white ceiling, never meeting my eye.

  "I hate my father, he's not too keen on me either."

  "Why?"

  "I guess we just don't get on," he shrugged. I shook my head. This is like pulling teeth.

  "You must have loved him once?"

  "Nope."

  "Not even when you were a kid? All boys idolize their father."

  "I didn't really know him all that well."

  "How? Was he separated from your mom.”?

  "You could say that," he said, his face blank and cold. "My mother died giving birth to me. My father couldn't handle single parenthood and grief at the same time. I bounced in and out of care for a few years, then he pulled himself together to put into me into boarding school. As soon as I was old enough to make the choice, I stopped going home. I didn't see or speak to him between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. When I graduated, I had to go home until college. He met step witch a few weeks later. She moved in, I moved out, and slept in a hostel until I started college on a full scholarship. I paid my way through college by managing college bands, taking a cut of their fees from the gigs I got them. That's how my label started. And that's really all there is to it."

  "That's awful."

  "Is it? I did pretty well, I think."

  "well, yeah but..."

  "I'm happy now, so I don't understand why you're squinting at me like I'm Oliver Twist."

  "Are you happy though?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Believe what you want. I'm going to sleep."

  He rolled over, turning his back on me. I gazed up at the ceiling. No wonder he thinks he can't love. until he met me, he's never been loved. I can change him. Not the way I tried and failed to change Lance. With Killian, it's different. he's already shown me a different side to him on the island. He opened up about his father only a week after meeting me. After six months, he will understand love. I curled into him, spooning him from behind. He didn't move away.

  Chapter Twelve – Abigail

  Six months later

  "A and R, Abigail Koch speaking," I answered my office phone.

  "I need you in my office, now," Killian growled.

  "Yes, sir
," I jumped to my feet, my panties soaked at the tone of his voice. I recognized that tone. His meeting with the new talent and he wanted to work out his frustrations. On me. In his office. I was a more than willing participant. Since I turned up on his doorstep, begging him to open up to him, we've gone from strength to strength. It's not all hearts and flowers, actually it's not hearts and flowers at all. Unless you count the selfish gifts, like the brand-new Mini Cooper he bought me, so my rust bucket didn't tarnish his reputation in his upscale neighbourhood or the sexy ones like the crotchless panties or Victoria's Secret's lingerie he liked me to wear for him, he hadn't bought me any gifts. We didn't live together not yet but we spend more time together than we do apart and last night he invited me out to dinner with some work contacts. Sometimes, I caught brief glances of the Killian I fell for, the heroic, caring man he showed me when were stranded.

  I think he might be ready to move to the next stage in our relationship. I know I am. I hurried from my office, straightening my sheer blouse.

  "Date with the boss?" Andrew, my intern smirked.

  "A meeting about a new talent he found," I answered quickly, my cheeks flaming. Our relationship quickly became public knowledge. Last week I was pictured with him leaving a club. The paparazzi called me Killian White's mystery lady, questioning if we were a couple. He didn't correct them. He didn't run to the arms of the nearest redhead. I rushed to the elevator, head bowed. While my meetings with Killian aren't secret, I still blush like a naughty schoolgirl when I'm caught racing to his office. Even when it really is for business. And we do get business things done. mostly while we're naked but it's still works when you're undressed. We signed last week's billboard topper to our label whilst naked. Not with him in the room, obviously, he was on the phone, talking over details with Killian while I rested in his lap, his arms wrapped around me.

  The elevator opened facing Muriel's desk.

  "He's in," she sighed. "He's not going home until six. He'll be at home by seven."