by W Winters
The door opens with a creak, the footsteps sure and carrying an ease until they stop. Embarrassment, shame—I’m not sure what it is that heats my face but I know there’s nothing I can do about it. Declan put me here how he wants me, and I don’t dare stand up; hell, I don’t know that I could move if I wanted to.
With my entire body paralyzed, and every nerve ending lit aflame from the forbidden aspect, I feel nothing but both wanted and ashamed.
Declan slides his hand beneath my dress as the two men take their seats. Declan is close enough to touch, while the other man, judging by the groan of the chair, is farther away and seated behind me, not in front.
The thin fabric of my dress barely covers part of my ass, and the rest of me is only hidden by the fact that I’m bent over. If I were to move, the dress would fall. My eyes beg to close, but I stare at the man who put me here. He radiates dominance but there’s also a casualness to him. He has everything I don’t have at this moment.
I’m only grateful that I can’t see the other man. My eyes stay on Declan as he toys with me in a way that’s almost relaxed despite another person in here watching. His footsteps approach the desk and stop. Declan’s fingers slip up and down, moving from my swollen clit that begs for attention all the way up, pressing gently, testing me, then back down. Over and over.
“Should I come back later?” the man questions. I think I recognize his voice but I’m not sure. Part of me wonders if he knows who I am. I wonder what he thinks of me. Just as my mind begins to race, pleasure halts every burgeoning question in its tracks.
Declan pushes two fingers inside of me and slides them in and out, his rhythm slow, then moves back to my clit. My toes curl in my heels, the pleasure building and then sending a tingling need outward. My only movement is to grip the edge of the desk harder and squeeze my eyes shut tight.
I’m so close to the edge. I can feel it. It overwhelms me to the point that I can’t focus on the conversation being held in the room. I can’t focus on anything until Declan’s hand slips away, leaving me wanting and he chuckles. It’s deep and low and the man lets out a huff of a laugh but it’s restrained.
As my high comes down, a sense of slight disappointment accompanies it. I stare at a beautifully paneled wall. There’s not much to look at. There’s everything to feel between my legs.
“I’m interrupting,” the man comments. He has a deep voice. Maybe he’s one of the security men. Yes, I think that’s where I recognize his voice from.
“No,” says Declan. His tone is sharp enough to make me think the other man is right, that he’s interrupting, but then Declan continues. “Go ahead.”
“Some news from the city,” the other man begins, and hesitates. “I’ve had a few different reports.”
Declan hums and leans forward, forcing my gaze to his button-down shirt, until my eyelids fall shut once more with the divine pleasure from his touch. He toys with me again, rubbing ruthless circles against my clit until I let out a moan I wish I could stifle. If only I had something to bite down on.
“From our territories or others?”
“A couple from others.” Their voices go back and forth, back and forth, but all I can feel is Declan. Declan’s hand between my legs. He nudges my thighs apart a little further under the dress, and I know I’m not supposed to move other than this. He’s good at what he does. And I fucking love it. I’ve wondered long enough and he’s exceeded my expectations with a sinful flare I didn't know existed.
Flames are coming off my skin as arousal drips down the inside of one of my thighs. The intense sensation concentrates on my clit, building and building.
Hold still, I think and pray and desperately try to hold my position, but the other man is talking when it hits. The orgasm rips through me with a sudden shockwave. I close my lips tight and try not to make any sound. It comes out anyway. My heels lift off the floor. The movement makes the dress fall to the floor.
Fuck. Oh, fuck. There’s not a shred of coverage. My heart pounds even as my climax tears through me.
Instantly, I know what I’ve done. I press myself flat against the desk.
Declan’s hand is still between my legs. Slowly, he takes it out and puts it firmly on the small of my back. It’s slick to the touch and my face heats all the more. “You disobeyed me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say in a breathy voice. It’s a drunken concoction that takes over. I’d let him do anything he’d like to me. Hell, after what he’s done, I’m barely capable of breathing.
He pauses. “Does that apology appear sincere to you?”
I realize after a beat that he’s asking the other man in the room, not me.
“I would say, given the state she’s in, it’s a genuine apology.”
Declan’s hand presses down on my skin. “Thank Nate for sparing you of your first punishment, my little pet.”
Nate? I don’t know the other person in the room after all. Thank fuck for that.
“Thank you,” I utter and it comes out just above a whisper.
“I think she’ll be my good girl,” he comments while lowering the tip of his nose to my shoulder. He leaves an openmouthed kiss there on my bare skin and a shudder of desire runs through me. “She’ll learn to do better.”
“I’m sure she will,” our guest, Nate, comments.
By the time he’s finished talking, I can feel Declan’s breath on my neck, and on my cheek. His face comes close to mine. He kisses me and another shock moves through me. It’s tender. Sweet. Soft. Nothing at all like he’s been.
“Is she a new toy?” Nate asks.
Declan murmurs a hum in response.
The first sign that Nate’s standing is the protest of the chair behind me. The next is the scrape of his shoe against the hardwood floor. I feel Nate get closer. His footsteps move in, and the air shifts. My heartbeat picks up again.
“Mind if I touch?” he questions, his voice above me. There’s no doubt he could see all of me if only he dared to move two feet.
The possessiveness is unexpected in Declan’s answer. As is the manner in which I revel in it. “Only if you want me to cut off your fucking hand. I don’t share my toys.” Declan opens a drawer in his desk, and a moment later I feel something soft between my legs. He cleans me up with the same gentle movements he used to kiss me. Who is this man? My mind can’t take him in. Staying as still as I can, I swallow down my racing thoughts and watch Declan.
“Come,” he says, but his hands show me what to do. Declan takes me into his lap and I settle into him, carefully covering myself and nestling into his lap. He wraps a black blanket around me and holds me close. With my eyes closed, I bury my head in the crook of his neck. His stubble is rough against my skin, but I take shelter in him.
Nate clears his throat. He says something about a man and train tracks. I can’t pay attention to it. The softness of the blanket is too overwhelming, and underneath it is Declan’s hard body. As he carries on the conversation, the deep rumble of his words vibrating through me, Declan runs his hand up and down my arm.
“Are you sure she’s not undercover?” My eyes open wide in shock at that one, my body going stiff and I’m certain Declan notices it.
“She’s not undercover,” Declan tells Nate dismissively. “I’ve gone through her file. Just a pretty little pet.” He looks down at me. “Aren’t you?”
I lift my face to look into his eyes. “Like a cop? I’m not a cop.” It makes me nervous to hear him even suggest it. But for once Declan’s eyes are kind.
“Tell me what you are.”
“What?”
“What exactly are you doing here and don’t make me ask you again. What. Are. You. To. Me?”
“Your fuck toy, Declan.” I barely breathe after saying the words.
“That’s right. That’s all you are, isn’t it?” The kindness in his eyes turns to desire. Nate coughs, and that same cold expression returns to his eyes. He’s pissed. “Get out, Nate.”
My body refuses to move a muscle as
the man leaves. My gaze stays on Declan’s although he doesn’t look back. Not until the door has shut.
“You’re hard to read tonight,” he comments. “Do you like it when others watch?”
I don’t know what to say to that. I came on his desk while another man was watching in the room.
“If you don’t know,” Declan continues, “that is an appropriate answer. Nate can be intimidating, and sometimes it’s about who is watching.” I shake my head. I don’t know. I don’t know if it was someone else in the room, or just Declan. Just the fact that he wanted me. “What did you hear of our conversation?”
“Nothing.”
He toys with my bottom lip. “Did you miss the part where I told you all you are is my pretty little pet?”
“Don’t—” Licking my lips, I hesitate but then summon the courage to speak. I bring up all the knowledge I have about arrangements like this between people. “Don’t pets get a safe word?”
Declan chuckles and embarrassment lights my cheeks again. “A safe word,” he repeats with a deadly grin. One that’s both charming but condescending. “You’d like a safe word?”
I can only nod.
“What word?” he questions and I already know what word I’d use.
“Red.”
His gaze searches mine and I have no idea what he’s looking for. “I’ll allow it. Another rule.” His tone turns businesslike, although his arms remain cradling me. “You won’t call me Declan in front of anyone ever again.” His hand moves up to my knee, slides up to my thigh, and then he places it between my legs. As he cups my heat, I moan from the pressure he places on my clit. With my eyes closed he whispers at my neck, “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. He rocks his palm, telling me what a good little pet I am for him. I’m already wet for him again. It’s like he never stopped playing with me. “Here, it’s fine. When it’s us. But you will refer to me as Sir.”
I nod, but then swallow nervously wondering if I should dare to voice my next condition. “I don’t want to be called a toy or a pet to anyone else,” I manage to say, though it makes me nervous to do it.
He pauses his movements and I peer up into his dark gaze. “Just between us?” he says. “You do like it, don’t you?”
“I like it.” My face reddens. It’s true. I really do like it.
“Then what should I tell others you are, little pet of mine?”
“I don’t know,” I say on a breath.
“I could call you mine.” My heart beats faster than it ever has, and harder. “You think you’d like that?”
“I think … I think I could manage to like it.”
He makes a low noise and lifts me from his lap, spreading the blanket out on the desk and me along with it. One heel falls off and he doesn’t give me a moment to retrieve it. I’m spread bare across his desk, wearing only my left heel. Declan’s hands move fast at his belt and between my legs, and within moments he’s pushing into me. Filling me and forcing a cry of pleasure from me. Fuck. “My little pet,” he says as he thrusts into me with deep, long strokes. “Mine.”
Braelynn
Days go by in an exhausted haze.
I’ve never been this deliciously sore in my life. I’m sore from Declan.
It’s a nine-to-five, so to speak; technically my workday starts at 6:00 at night and goes to nearly 3:00 in the morning. I do a lot of work with bookkeeping and records, but every moment I’m on edge and waiting. Being his personal pet, his toy, it’s invigorating.
One moment I’m filing papers like he told me to, the next his hand wraps around the back of my neck and hours pass getting lost in his touch. Being used and fucked and then kissed like he needs to kiss me just to keep breathing.
Readjusting on the sofa, I’m hot and bothered all over again. Even though I’m alone, I can’t get the memories of the last few days out of my head, and I’m not sure I want to. His fingers between my legs. Nate’s presence on the other side of the desk, watching. It’s far dirtier than anything I imagined when Scarlet explained what the rooms on the lower floor were used for.
A smirk pulls up my lips and I hide it behind the throw blanket in my hand, pulling my knees up which elicits a slight pain from how sore I am.
I’m certain I know what’s most addicting. It’s like he can’t get enough of me.
I’ll think he’s sated but then his eyes darken and I’m spread out on his desk again. Or bent over it. I take a sip of my chamomile tea and get comfortable with the blanket up over me. Rubbing my tired eyes, I note the day has come and gone and I spent most of it sleeping, unpacking here and there, but catching up on rest. With the dull drone of the TV serving as background noise, something’s on the screen, but I couldn’t tell you what.
It’s not a real priority when Declan’s on my mind. Nothing is a priority when I’m thinking about him.
I’ve never been fucked the way he fucks me. He’s hard and possessive about it, and insatiable. I don’t feel fragile with him. His intensity is like nothing I’ve ever encountered, and some parts of it do scare me, but at the same time …
I think I’m falling for him a bit. For Declan Cross.
Nervous butterflies create a storm in the pit of my stomach and I combat it with a sip of tea. The man he grew up to be is nothing like that hollow-eyed boy in gym class. He has more secrets now, and he and his brothers have power. People fear them, and they should, because the Cross brothers aren’t to be fucked with.
I know that. I’m all too aware of that truth. If nothing else, I love what we do together. I love what he does to me and how he makes me feel. I crave it. I want to be wanted by this man.
I was so afraid of that lower floor in The Club, but I’ve never felt better than when I’m in his office. My phone slides across the coffee table as it vibrates.
Declan: Come in wearing the clothes I had delivered earlier.
A flush warms my cheeks, even though no one is here to see me receive this text. The heat from my face follows a path between my legs. It’s a good thing I was already sitting. What I feel about him is as intense as the way he looks at me. The lingerie he sent is the perfect example of his intensity.
Biting down on my lip, I think about the package that came today. The lingerie set I received is bloodred silk and lacy and must have cost a fortune. It came in a thick box, the kind that only comes from upscale boutiques with ladies behind the counter who never blush. It was probably handstitched somewhere.
This is what he wants me to wear, and he wants me to wear it for him. It wasn’t long ago that Declan commanded me to wear black at The Club, and to never wear red again. To wear it for now him feels that much more sinful.
He sent flowers yesterday along with my first check. It’s ridiculous how much he’s paying me. I nearly fainted at the sight of ten thousand dollars written out. The heaviness of the vase kept me upright.
It’s easy to tell myself I may have made that had I continued to be a waitress and therefore I deserve the payment. But the truth of the matter is far more difficult to swallow.
It’s also because all of these things, like gifts and money and lingerie. They almost make me feel like a whore. That’s what whores do. They take money and gifts from men in exchange for sex. Growing up, I thought this was the one line I wouldn’t cross. I might have terrible jobs and work in hot kitchens and put up with mean customers as a waitress, but I wouldn’t sell my body to pay the bills.
Then you grow up. You realize sex is … desirable. Not hooking up with strangers is more a matter of safety than anything else. And choosing the man you want. Then the emotions. It’s messy and complicated, and oh my God. I groan, throwing my head back. With my hand over my face, I admit the truth.
I am Declan Cross’s whore. Plain and simple.
That’s a truth I’ll never admit to my mother.
Now I understand what Scarlet was talking about before, when she told me about the red dresses. When it’s late, and the liquor is flowi
ng, and these men look at you like they’ve never wanted anything more … sometimes it’s tempting. I get that now.
There is nothing more tempting than the way Declan looks at me when I open the door to his office. There’s nothing more thrilling than getting a package delivered from him and opening it to find something beautiful and expensive. Men don’t give you those kinds of gifts if they don’t think they’ll suit you. Declan thinks I’m worthy of these gifts, and not only that, he wants to see me in this gorgeous lingerie. He wants more than to know I received it, he wants to see the proof on my body. He wants to put his hands on it himself.
That’s what Scarlet meant, but I feel it all the time, not just when it’s late, and not just when the liquor is flowing. I feel like this all the time, even when I’ve had nothing to drink but chamomile tea.
It’s different from taking random people down to the lower floor for a drunken fuck. That wouldn’t be enough for Declan, just like sending me the lingerie isn’t enough for him. It’s not enough for me, either.
Stretching my tired body, I go back out to the kitchen and wash the cup from my tea in the sink, then settle it into a small rack to dry. I check the deadbolt on the door. Check my phone for any more messages and make sure it’s plugged in. I give the curtains another tug to make sure no one can see inside. Although I’ve slept most of the day, I feel like I could sleep for a week right now.
Then I go back to my phone and return Declan’s text.
Braelynn: I will wear it, Sir.
I have it all typed out and ready to send when something catches my attention from the TV. It was the word “Cross.” The remote has fallen between the couch cushions but I dig it out and push down hard on the button to turn up the volume. Even with it louder, it’s hard to make sense of what the news anchor is saying. Her voice is calm and even, and her gray blazer is so perfect that she can’t possibly be talking about one of the Cross brothers, but she is.
She’s also talking about a man named Marcus.
It hits me all over again that they’re involved in things even the woman on the news won’t say out loud. Dark things. Illegal things. The kind of things that make people put an extra deadbolt on the door at night. The Cross brothers have never shied away from the underbelly of the city, and now they’re in charge of it.
