“If you want someone to scene with, I’ll take care of you.”
The voice froze her from the inside out. Since she heard it all day, every day, she recognised it instantly. Rich and deep, as controlled as it was reviled.
When her heart started to beat again, she swung to face her adversary. She looked a long way up into his deep, dark blue, unfathomable eyes.
His jaw was set, and his arms were folded across his chest.
“Damn you.” She scowled. “Did you make him go away?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Isn’t it enough that you ruin every one of my days?”
“I’ve always wanted to have you over my lap for the good spanking you deserve.”
She blinked, for once shocked into silence by his words. Since they’d met, he’d been standoffish. Business was the only thing they’d ever discussed. And he’d harboured thoughts of having his hand on her ass?
“Maybe we should satisfy our mutual desires.”
“Not in this lifetime, David.”
“Tonight even,” he countered.
She laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as brittle as it felt. “Even for you, that’s an arrogant statement.”
“I spent the last few minutes watching your reflection in the glass, Margaret—”
“Maggie,” she corrected through gritted teeth.
“Not only do you have on a white wristband,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “but you lowered your gaze for that Dom.”
Her stomach executed a somersault. “Do you know how to mind your own business? Ever?”
“I pay attention to detail.”
“There’s an understatement.” During the first three weeks that he’d taken control of her family’s firm, he’d looked at every piece of paper, analysed spreadsheets, sat down with each employee in private, insisted on meeting all of their vendors and reviewed all current customer files. At this point, it seemed he knew as much about World Wide Now as she did.
“For example, I know you’re flustered,” he continued.
“So you’re a psychic in addition to having superior business acumen?” If sarcasm were arsenic, he’d be dead.
“You’re thinking about lifting your skirt for me and lowering yourself over my lap. You’re wondering if I’ll hit you as hard as you need.”
“That’s insane,” she insisted, but now that he’d mentioned it, she couldn’t help picturing that very thing.
“You’re hoping I’ll let you keep your underwear on. And yes, you are wearing panties.”
She blinked, stunned. How the hell could he know that?
“If you were as calm as you’d like me to believe, you wouldn’t be stabbing the bottom of your glass with your straw.”
She froze, not realising she had been betraying her inner turmoil.
This David confounded her.
In typical fashion, his dark hair was spiked and brushed severely back from his broad forehead. His eyebrows were drawn together in an arrogant, masculine slash.
As she’d noticed earlier, he wore a pair of dark denim jeans, but she hadn’t seen the scuffed, black motorcycle boots.
Except for his trademark arrogance, he didn’t resemble the man she knew from work.
Normally he wore expensive power suits with crisp button-down shirts. The only concession to an occasional casual look was a loosened knot in his requisite red or blue tie.
She’d spent so much time being irritated by him that she’d never really noticed him as a man.
But now…
His shoulders were broad and his waist trim. The black HM band emphasised the size of his arms. Clearly he had a gym membership, and he used it.
David’s jeans showed off the size of his thighs in a way dress slacks never could. Heaven help her, she couldn’t help but stare at the thick black belt encircling his waist. Add in the cuffs that refracted the overhead light… He made breathing difficult.
“How about it, Maggie?”
She looked up at him. His use of Maggie rather than Margaret had been intentional, as if he knew exactly the effect it would have on her. She would never scene with a man who didn’t respect her wishes, and he was proving he would. “What happened to your no fraternising policy?”
Several more people entered the room, and the noise level increased. He took hold of her shoulders and moved her backwards. She didn’t protest. How could she with the way oxygen deprivation was suddenly making it impossible to think?
He released his grip, but he’d effectively trapped her in a corner, her back to the wall. The act seemed symbolic of their entire relationship. He was adept at manoeuvring her to suit his wishes.
Six months ago, when he’d decided to acquire World Wide Now for far less money than Maggie believed it was worth, she’d put up a fiery verbal protest. Rather than deal with her directly, David had taken her mother aside.
He’d told Gloria that Maggie’s retention was critical to the success of the firm.
In a brilliant strategic move, he’d then called Maggie back into a private meeting and presented a deal that gave him everything he wanted.
If they met his lofty goals, meaning Maggie worked her ass off and brought in sales, her mother would be rewarded with half a million dollars at the end of two years. He hadn’t promised Maggie a penny beyond her regular wages, but he’d somehow figured that taking care of her mother was the biggest incentive of all for Maggie.
Her mother had told Maggie she didn’t have to accept his terms. Another deal, perhaps a better one, would come along. Together, they’d figure it out.
But once David had shown her the reality of World Wide Now’s fiscal picture due to her mother’s mismanagement, Maggie had seen no other option. She loved her mother and wanted her to have freedom from the financial struggles she’d always endured.
If he had simply waltzed in as lord and master, Maggie would have flipped him the bird on the way out of the door. But he was far too smart for that. Still, that didn’t mean she liked or appreciated his manipulation.
Once she’d nodded, he’d pulled out an employment contract. The bastard had prepared it ahead of time. She had signed her name with short, angry strokes. In corporate speak, she was shackled in golden handcuffs.
And that wasn’t much different from the metal pair dangling from his belt loop. Despite her resolve, she kept glancing at them.
He took the glass from her hand and gave it to a passing waiter.
She felt no fear as he leaned towards her, crowding her space. They breathed the same air, and his scent intoxicated her—power, spiced with raw masculine confidence.
“I think we can both agree this is an exception. You wouldn’t be doing this to get ahead at work. I wouldn’t be forcing you to do it to keep your job. At the office, we’ll have the same arrangement we have now,” he told her.
“Meaning you’ll set my schedule, tell me what to do, organise my life, prioritise my tasks and I’ll agree with you.”
“Much the same way as it’ll be tonight, yes.” His smile was predatory.
She shuddered then regretted she’d allowed him the glimpse of her vulnerability. “I have no intention of sceneing with you,” she said.
“The choice is always yours. Do you know the club’s safe word?” he asked her.
She blinked. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“Do you know the safe word?” he repeated.
“Of course.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
She felt as if she was involved in a game whose rules she didn’t understand. “Halt.”
“If you want me to walk away, say it.”
Awareness of him simmered in her, its effects causing a slow heating of her blood. One word would end their discussion. That’s what she should want. So why was she still here, feeling tempted? “You don’t play fair.”
“I like to win,” he agreed. His plainly stated words took away any further argument. “You and I both know th
at in any D/s relationship, the sub has the real power. You get to set the rules and the pace. If I don’t agree to your terms, we have no deal.” He paused. “In a way, the tables are turned. It seems to me you should relish that after six months.”
“It won’t be your butt that’s being blistered.”
“Or legs,” he added. “Or shoulders. Or breasts.” He leaned in a fraction of an inch closer.
It stunned her how threatened, how on fire she suddenly felt. He’d barely moved, but she was snared.
“Or pussy,” he said finally.
She pressed herself harder against the wall, needing its support. “I’m not saying I would ever agree to your insane suggestion…”
“Go on.”
“If I did, we wouldn’t talk about it at the office.”
“What happens here, stays here. It will change nothing about our dynamic at the office, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“I’m not afraid of anything, David,” she said, her words infused with bravado she was sure he could see through.
Maggie reminded herself she didn’t like him. But damn, there was something about his commanding manner that intrigued her. Every day, she watched him in action. When he wanted something, he pursued it with single-minded determination. A very feminine part of her wondered what it would feel like to be the focus of that attention.
“Do you have your own safe word that you prefer?”
“Halt is fine.”
“How about a word to slow things down?”
“Eclipse.”
He tilted his head to the side.
“I’m more likely to say accelerate,” she told him.
“I wouldn’t have figured you for an extreme player.”
“You think you’re a sage, Mr Tomlinson,” she said. “But you’ve misread a few things about me.”
“I’ll give you that. From the way you behave at the office, I would have taken you for a Domme.”
“It might be fun to strap you to a St Andrew’s cross,” she said, raising one of her waxed eyebrows.
He laughed.
She blinked. During the time she’d known him, she had never heard him laugh. She’d rarely even seen him smile. Was it possible she’d judged him too harshly? Then she recalled the way he’d even provided the ballpoint pen for her to sign the hated employment agreement. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”
“Not a chance in hell,” he affirmed. “The only one feeling a lash will be you. And feel it you will.”
Before she could respond to his flat, arrogant statement, he continued, “I assure you I will be very observant about your reactions.” He captured her chin and tipped her head back. “I want to know what quickens your pulse. I’ll find out what dampens your panties. I want to know all of your erotic sounds and what each means.”
She wished she had met him here first, that she’d seen him as an exciting Dom, felt the connection and agreed to scene. But she couldn’t pretend their relationship wasn’t already laden with hostility and distrust.
“For tonight,” he reminded her. “Just tonight. Say yes, Maggie mine.”
If she was smart, she’d tell him no. She shouldn’t want this, him. But every nerve ending zinged. Desire won the battle over common sense. “Yes.” She nodded.
Desire seemed to flare in his eyes, widening them. “Good,” he said.
He released her and stepped back.
She was grateful for the physical space. This close, she noticed how male he was, sexy, sensual and threatening.
“Any hard limits?” he asked.
This part of a negotiation was familiar, and she relaxed into it. She was good at asking for what she wanted. “No blood, edgeplay, permanent marks.”
“How about formal protocols?”
She’d had enough experience to know that Doms differed on what that meant. But in this setting, since they weren’t a couple, she doubted he would ask for anything she’d find objectionable. “If it suits you, I’m okay with it.”
“We’ll observe some, but I don’t require strict adherence. I want you to communicate.”
She nodded.
“What are your limits around humiliation?”
“As long as I’m not left alone for long periods, I’m fine.”
“I won’t leave you alone, ever. If you’re suffering for me, I want to watch and enjoy every moment of it.”
There was something about the huskiness in his voice—part promise, part threat—that made her tremble. She looked at him. The set of his jaw emphasised the seriousness of his words.
Maggie would have never suspected she’d willingly experience anguish for David Tomlinson, even offer herself to him, but in this moment, there was nothing she wanted more.
“And suffer you will, Maggie,” he promised.
Chapter Two
Maggie froze as David reached forward to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.
His gesture was tender, a contradiction to what she knew lay ahead.
“Your wristband indicates you’re open to having sex, but given the nature of our relationship, I think we should discuss it.” He lowered his hand to trace a finger around the top of her collar.
Goosebumps ran up her arms. His touch was a distraction, and his question loomed large. She considered her answer.
She’d have to face him on Monday morning and every day for over a year. Maggie hated awkward emotional entanglements, so she’d never slept with anyone she worked with. She also knew she could compartmentalise with the best of them. “We’re both adults,” she said. “If the scene leads to sex, and it feels like a natural progression, I’m sure there won’t be any repercussions.”
“I want to be very clear about this.” He slid his finger beneath the collar. “You’re open to it?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“I can fuck you as hard and as long as I want?”
The words, so raw, natural, caught her off guard. “I thought you were a House Monitor. Don’t you have things you need to do?”
“I’m off duty for the next two hours.”
“Master Damien agreed to that?”
“I asked for three. We compromised at two.” With his fingertip, he drew her a little closer.
“Pretty sure of yourself,” she said. “No one can sustain a scene for that long.”
“We’re wasting time. Anything else you want to discuss before I take you downstairs?”
“Ah…” The moment was here. It was real. And she really had no doubts. “I’m good.”
He waited a few seconds before nodding. “In that case, let’s get to my rules.”
Maggie laughed a little. “I knew there was a catch.”
“You’re comfortable calling me Mr Tomlinson, you can use that in addition to Sir.”
She scowled. She used Mr Tomlinson to drive distance between them, not as a term of respect. Calling him that would alter their dynamic. “Well played,” she said.
“Any objections to that?”
“No.”
“I expect straightforward communication and honest answers to any questions I ask.”
“Sounds fair.”
“If you’re ready, I think it’s about time to get on with it.”
She nodded.
“Please respond verbally.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” he prompted.
“Yes, Mr Tomlinson.”
He looked over his shoulder and signalled to Brandy. The sub moved towards them, and he released his hold on Maggie’s collar. Instead of letting her go, he rested his fingertips on her shoulder. She felt the warmth and firmness of his touch even through the fabric of her shirt.
She appreciated that he hadn’t let go of her completely. She’d said she didn’t like to be left alone for extended periods, and he seemed to have extrapolated from there, figuring she liked constant assurance from her Dom.
Until now, she hadn’t realised how nice that was.
“Please fetch me a leash,” h
e said when Brandy joined them. “And my personal bag was checked when I arrived. Brown leather. I’d like that as well.”
“Of course, Master David.”
Maggie had never been leashed. She’d bought the sparkly, hot-pink leather strip for show. She hadn’t anticipated it would actually be used as a collar.
Within a minute, the blonde sub returned. With her head bowed, she extended the items he’d requested.
David thanked the woman. He placed the toy bag on the floor then accepted the black nylon lead.
With a quick curtsey, Brandy left them.
Maggie’s gaze was fixated on the lead. His motions were quick and efficient as he attached it in place.
“I’ll expect you to keep the tension taut so that you keep the appropriate distance between us,” he told her. “Please keep your hands behind your back, except for when we are on the stairs. Your safety matters, so I want you to hold onto the banister. Do you have any problems with my instructions?”
“No…Mr Tomlinson.” Damn, the formality of the address, especially minus her implied sarcasm, sounded odd. But she was sure it had his desired effect. They were Dom and sub, not co-workers, not friends.
“Say that again, please,” he instructed.
He’d spoken softly, but with a steel undertone. With her, it was far, far more effective than if he’d been harsh. She looked at him. Her heart rate decreased as she began to slip into a submissive mindset. “I understand your instructions, Mr Tomlinson, and I have no problem with them.”
“Very good.”
His approval made her relax her shoulders.
“You look very pretty on my leash, Maggie.”
“I… Thank you, Mr Tomlinson.” Resisting the urge to tug on the hem of her skirt and cover herself, she laced her hands at the small of her back.
He wrapped the length of nylon around his hand twice, obviously planning to keep her close. “Ready?”
“Yes, Mr Tomlinson.”
With a brief nod, he turned and began to walk.
It took her a couple of steps to match his pace and get accustomed to being led. No one paid attention to them as they moved through the main level of the luxurious mountain retreat.
At the top of the stairs, he gave the leash some slack. He descended slowly, and she appreciated his thoughtfulness.
In His Cuffs Page 2
