Chapter One 8 page

She could still feel his hand slamming down on her bare bottom and hear his deep voice reassuring her at the same time. “I care about you…” She shivered. How could the memory of a man hitting her make her want to crawl deeper into his arms?

But he'd known that too, considering how he'd held her after the spanking. And on the beach after they'd had sex, he'd held her for a very, very long time, as if he knew she needed that reassurance. How could he read her so easily? The knowledge that he could made a little shiver creep up her spine.

But I got off. Damn, he could know her as well as he wanted if she could do that again. Just thinking about sex with him… How funny that even thinking about his hand—about his finger—touching her so intimately, rubbing her clit… Just thinking about it made heat wash through her. And with him inside? That had been like nothing—nothing—she'd ever felt before.

Why was she stewing about this anyway? Dawn arrived in another hour, and there were guests here, and…she was wide awake. She should never have let her mind dwell on sex with Alex. She could feel how wet she'd gotten. Heaven help her.

She heard a chuckle, and then Alex's hand squeezed her breast, making her gasp. He slid his hand down between her legs to the betraying wetness.

“I've created a monster,” he murmured and bit the back of her neck. The unexpected sharpness sent a sizzle straight to her pussy, and she jolted.

His tongue laved the tiny hurt. “I'm too lazy to move right now, but no matter.” His hips slid down a little ways, and when he moved back up, his cock pressed against her. He slid the arm underneath her down until his hand gripped her hip, securing her in place as his thick cock pushed into her.

She stiffened against the unexpected burning pain of his entry.

He made a sympathetic noise, but both hands held her hips securely against his groin, not letting her move away. She could hear the amusement in his voice when he said, “After twelve years without, you might be a bit sore.”

“You sadist,” she hissed, ignoring the way his possessive hands made her body thrill.

He laughed. “Oh, not really. When we go to the club next, I'll show you the difference.” He moved inside her, and the pain disappeared under a wave of pleasure. And then he moved one hand to slide over her clit. If she'd thought her pussy was swollen before, she was so, so wrong. She could actually feel her clit engorge and stiffen under his skillful fingers.

He began to thrust, using one hand on her clit to drive her mad and the other to anchor her so securely, she could only take it. Be taken. And the pleasure built into a frenzy, shocking her when it broke over her in an overwhelming orgasm. Her hips bucked uncontrollably against the restraining hands. “God.”

He moved his hand off her pussy and nuzzled her neck before murmuring, “That was too fast and easy, little sub. I'm going to want you to come again and much longer. I'll give you…oh, a minute to recover.”

She whimpered.

* * * * *

Mac had come the second time as demanded—not that he'd accept anything less—and then again when he walked right into her shower. He soaped her down, shoved her legs apart, and licked her into a knee-buckling orgasm before pushing her against the wall to take his own pleasure. When his tongue stroked into her mouth in the same rhythm as his thrusts, she felt invaded, top and bottom. And came again.

Afterward he'd dressed and gone downstairs while she knelt by the suitcase, trying to decide what to wear. The sadistic jerk had slapped her butt on the way out of the room, reminding her how sore parts of her anatomy still felt. In fact, she had a lot of tender places today. Breasts and mouth and private parts and bottom. Muscles in her legs and stomach that hadn't worked out like that in years. If ever.

She dressed, still smiling, and walked through the kitchen door into the midst of the entire group.

“Perhaps if we—” Leaning against the counter, Alex broke off his conversation with Peter to watch his little sub walk into the kitchen. Her mouth was swollen, her cheeks beard burned, and her big brown eyes held a languid glow. She'd chosen to wear jeans and a blue T-shirt with a pile of kittens displayed on the front. Barefoot and tousled and sexy as hell.

His cock hardened, which should be an impossibility considering he'd just fucked them both silly in the shower. He grinned, remembering how her legs had buckled when he released her.

She smiled at the subs seated at the table and the Doms at the stove, and then her cheeks flushed. Probably remembering last night and how they'd seen her bare assed and being spanked. “Good morning.” Her voice had the huskiness of a woman well used.

Beside Alex, Peter nodded to her. “Good morning, MacKensie. Bacon's on the stove; eggs are on the table.”

She nodded and walked to the stove. After giving Alex a quick glance, she averted her gaze and reached for the pan.

Alex frowned. He didn't like how she placed herself at a distance rather than within his personal space. It showed her insecurities when it came to male-female relationships. He rubbed his jaw and considered. She'd been sixteen the last time she had sex; had she even attempted a relationship since? What the hell had happened to her back then?

Something to work on later. Right now… Well, each relationship ran on a different track, but he could show her how theirs would go, and it didn't include acting indifferent to each other in public.

When he tucked a finger into the waistband of her jeans and pulled her between his outstretched legs, she gave him a startled look. Ignoring the stiffness of her body, he lifted her up against him far enough that he could enjoy her lips. He dallied, taking pleasure in the lingering taste of mint toothpaste as he coaxed her into responding. Slowly her muscles released the tension until she sagged against him, and then her body filled with a different kind of tension.

When he set her back on her feet, her face was flushed, her breathing fast, and the uncertainty was definitely gone. She shook her head at him, giving him a look that held both exasperation and delight. And when she reached for a plate, her hip rubbed against his.

Much better.

Chapter Fourteen

A few days later, Mac stopped just inside the door of Alex's office. “I made some stir-fry if you want some.”

Seated at his desk, Alex didn't move. She walked into the office and stopped behind him, enjoying the scent of leather and books and his subtle aftershave. “Alex?”

He looked up and blinked, and then his eyes focused, the blue intensifying. He took her hand. “MacKensie. I'm sorry. Were you speaking to me?”

She laughed. “Breaking your concentration is like hitting a brick wall with a pencil. Can't even dent it.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He pushed the chair back and pulled her into his lap. One thorough kiss later, he asked, “Now, what can I help you with?”

Would she ever get used to him? He never asked, What have you done for me? It was always, What can I do for you?

“What are you working on?” She stalled to give her body time to settle down. Damn him, he'd sure grabbed her a lot over the past few days, and this morning, she'd realized his purpose: to make her give up her instinctive flinching away from men. He'd seize her, then follow the sudden move with the comfort of a kiss or hug, but nothing else.

No, when he wanted sex, he didn't grab, he moved on her smooth and slow and… She bit her lip against the onrush of warmth.

His eyes narrowed, and he murmured, “Now that must have been an interesting thought.”

“Well…” She grinned. The stir-fry could keep, right? But then her stomach rumbled.

Before she could think, he set her on her feet and rose. “Time for a little vet to eat.” He cupped her cheek with one big hand and ran his thumb over her lips, making her crave the feel of his lips over hers. “We can play later.”

When he took her hand to lead her out of the room, she shook her head with a sigh of exasperation. Did he give off some sort of pheromone that made her thoughts go immediately to sex? It seemed like whenever she touched him, her head entered some sort of sexual fog.

“I made stir-fry. That's what I came to tell you,” she told him as they left the office. “What were you working on that had you so oblivious?”

“A senior-services company. They send aides to help elderly people with medications or getting dressed or shopping, whatever they need. They're trying to figure out whether expanding would be worth their while.”

“And they asked you?” As they entered the kitchen, the smell of food made her stomach gurgle again. She'd forgotten to grab lunch. “I thought you just gave little companies money so they could get started.”

“No.” He took plates from the cupboard. “We tried, but too many went belly-up. Having great ideas doesn't guarantee having business sense. Now when we stake a start-up, they get me or another consultant as part of the package. Since we started the hands-on approach, the failure rate has dropped by half.”

“Makes sense.” She poured them each a glass of wine and followed him to the windowed breakfast nook where they took most of their meals. She loved this room. The Sound never looked the same, and when the massive Olympic Mountains peeked out from their cloud cover, they took her breath away. “When the new guy bought Jim's vet clinic, he made quite a few mistakes that either Jim or I could have warned him about if we'd known.” Come to think of it, she needed to call Brent. He owed her one last check, and she'd need it to pay the utility bill.

Lights across the water flickered on as twilight settled in. Tail wagging, Butler trotted in from the backyard, never one to miss a chance at tidbits from the table.

Alex took a bite of stir-fry, and his eyebrows rose. “This is excellent.”

His compliment created a warm glow inside her. The housekeeper came in every other day to clean and always left something in the refrigerator to heat up for supper—and wasn't that so cool?—but Mac enjoyed creating meals, especially here, where fresh fish and vegetables abounded. And she did make a hell of a stir-fry, if she said so herself.

“Who is Jim?” Alex asked.

“He owned the vet clinic where I worked.” He saved me, loved me like a daughter, taught me how honest and caring some men could be. She swallowed. “When he died, I had nothing to keep me in Oak Hollow.” Except his house, and that would go up for sale as soon as she had somewhere else to live.

Alex studied her for a second. “That's why you're relocating?”

“Pretty much.” Emptiness welled up inside her as she remembered the aching loneliness after Jim's death. But being with Alex had lightened the desolation, at least for now. She needed to remember what he'd said—that he didn't want a girlfriend, just the appearance of one—and not let herself get used to being with him. Her eyes burned suddenly, and she slid off her chair to pet Butler until the need to cry had passed.

When she returned to the table, she saw the curiosity in Alex's eyes. But anything she told him about Jim and Mary would open the way to more questions, and Alex would find out about her past. She couldn't bear to see the disgust on his face. The past needed to stay in the past. “I—”

“What made you pick Seattle?”

She blinked at the unexpected question. “Uh, I…I heard some people talking about it once.” At a vet convention. Mac had waited in a corner while Ajax rounded up business, and she'd overheard some Seattleites talking about home. It had been her last night as a whore; maybe that's why she'd remembered their conversation so well: “Lakes and mountains and the ocean. I didn't want anywhere dry and brown, and I didn't want to shovel snow anymore.”

Alex grinned at her mock shiver.

“I wanted to try a city.” Big enough to get lost in. As far away from Iowa as possible, without drowning in the Pacific. She smiled at Alex. “So…you want to watch a movie tonight, or are you returning to work?”

“A movie.” A corner of his mouth curved up. “Since it's my turn to decide, we'll watch Patton. Or possibly The Thin Red Line.”

“Frak that. It's not your—”

“I keep forgetting to ask,” he interrupted. “What is frak?”

Could anyone have lived in this century and not seen BattlestarGalactica? Really? She eyed him uneasily. Maybe he was really an alien, here to take over the world and—

“MacKensie, pay attention. Frak?”

“Uh, right. From BattlestarGalactica, the new one. They used it in place of…uh…fuck.”

“Ah.” His finger rubbed his lips, and she could see him smothering a smile, undoubtedly because of her red face.

Considering all the times he'd…fucked…her, why should the word be so hard to say? She frowned at him. “Anyway, it was a TV series. And when it came out on DVD, Jim and I watched it again.” She smiled at the memory. “God, I love that show.”

“I'll add it to the library, then.”

She jerked her gaze back to him. “You will not.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don't like science fiction, so you'd be buying it for me. And you're not going to do that.”

One eyebrow tilted up. “I'm not?”

“No.” Maybe she was being rude, but still…

“Do you not like presents, little cat?” he asked softly.

“I—” She pushed back from the table and stepped around Butler to walk across the room and back. “You see, presents are—should be reciprocal in a way. But I don't have any money, so I can't give you anything back, and just taking things makes me feel”— like a whore—“useless. And greedy.”

He had that observant look in his eyes again, that stillness in his body that showed he'd focused totally on her. But then he smiled and said gently, “All right, sweetheart. I can see how you might feel that way.” He held his hand out to her, one of those silent commands that tilted her world.

How did he do this to her? Even when he wasn't being a Dom, he was. She put her hand in his.

And then he grinned. “So since we don't have any good science fiction, we're watching Patton tonight.”

“We are not.” Their ongoing fight. Chick flicks and science fiction versus his war movies. Actually, she loved having someone with whom to watch a movie, even if the movie sucked. Not just watch either. Since their time at the beach, the movies had acquired “intermissions.” He'd taken her in front of the fireplace, bent over the arm of a couch, and while straddling his legs on the chair. If she gave him any trouble—or if the mood struck him—she might find her hands bound.

Or ordered to stay in one place without moving. God, that had been so difficult—lying on her back, legs open, hands over her head while he… She swallowed and caught the simmer of heat in his eyes.

“I want to see Sleepless in Seattle. It seems only appropriate considering I'm living here,” she said, ignoring the way her voice had turned husky. “We'll flip for it.” She pulled away and carried her dishes out to the kitchen.

Alex set his dishes beside hers on the counter. Then firm hands closed around her waist, and he set her on the kitchen island.

“Hey.” She frowned at him. “What—”

Clever fingers unbuttoned her shirt. “I want dessert before my movie.”

* * * * *

She'd fallen asleep, curled in his lap, head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, enjoying the light citrus fragrance of her hair and the heavier scent of hot, raunchy sex. The movie she'd chosen continued to play, but he'd muted the sound when she drifted off.

Interviewing for jobs must be hard work. Probably living with him was harder.

She'd come a long way in the past week. She didn't flinch away from his touch now, and her responses during sex were uninhibited and responsive. God, he enjoyed making love to her.

But holding her like this, teasing her during their meals, waking with her in his arms, pleased him just as much. In fact, he couldn't envision the house without her in it. Butler made good company, and listened attentively to Alex's complaints about idiotic managers, but he couldn't come up with suggestions as MacKensie did. Or laugh when Alex told of the latest fiasco. As a dining companion, Butler left something to be desired too.

He shook his head slightly. What the hell was he thinking? He didn't want a relationship, dammit. He liked his life, his solitude, and having his house to himself. Or he had.

His little sub wouldn't be leaving right away, though. He'd talked her into staying at least a couple of more weeks, or until she secured a position. Her reluctance had bothered him, until he realized it had nothing to do with him but originated in her hatred of being under obligation to someone. To anyone.

She certainly had an abundance of pride. In many ways, she reminded him of his mother, and wasn't that an appalling thought?

Mac stirred and murmured, and he realized she'd stiffened. Her head thrashed back and forth, and the high whimpers she gave sounded like those of a child. Her hands opened and closed.

“MacKensie, wake up,” he said, keeping his voice low. Nonthreatening. “Wake up now.”

Her eyes opened. She blinked up at him, then looked around the room. “Not a closet,” she whispered.

“No closet,” he agreed. He stroked her shoulder.

“I hate locked doors, you know,” she confided, still muzzy with sleep. “I have to open them.”

“Do you now?” And there, in two little sentences, she'd given him the answer to his unlocked dungeon. “How did you learn to do that?”

“Jenny taught me. She was a lot older, at least thirteen, and her dad taught her to pick locks. That's why they put her in foster care. She carried her picks everywhere. I do too. I can open almost anything.” Eyes half closed, his little sub smiled up at him sweetly.

His little master of locked doors. Huffing a laugh, Alex ran a hand down her arm, and she settled, sighing softly. Her body trusted him instinctively, or she'd never allow herself to sleep in his arms, but her subconscious, holder of all her secrets?

He'd made progress. But he wanted more. He wanted the rest of her story, the reason she'd not had sex for twelve years, the reason she stiffened whenever a man touched her unexpectedly. Rape… He'd thought rape at first, but it didn't quite fit. Her attitude toward sex hadn't been fear as much as revulsion and coldness at the thought of being intimate. Her emotions would shunt away to somewhere else. No, he didn't see violence during sex in her past…but perhaps abuse?

Pulling her closer, he rubbed his cheek against her silky, golden hair. Somehow he needed to get her to talk. As her lover, he wanted to know; as her Dom, he needed to know. But for tonight, he'd take the little confidence she'd just shared with him.

* * * * *

Mac eyed her evening gown, which she needed to somehow don without ripping off her fancy nails or messing up her hair. She held out her hand and grinned at the sparkling colors of her perfectly rounded fingernails. Amazing.

Earlier in the day, Hope had arrived and dragged Mac right out of the house. “The guys are treating us,” she'd said, obviously delighted to have company at the ritzy spa she took Mac to.

Sadly inexperienced in all the girl rituals, Mac had thought she'd have been intimidated by the staff and have a terrible time. But with Hope chattering away, the afternoon went quickly as they giggled and indulged in facials, soaks, scrubs, and massages. Now Mac ran her hand over her arm. Her skin had never felt so smooth and soft.

Other places were smooth also, and hadn't that just been fun? No one had told Mac all of what Alex had ordered and paid for. Like the horrendous thing called waxing, where they'd ripped the hair right off her legs. Frak, that hurt…but then they'd moved higher. Oh. My. God. Well, her pussy was now bare and smooth.

And she planned to kill Alex dead when she got the chance.

After a glass of wine, she'd managed to stop whimpering as she and Hope went on to get their hair styled, manicures, pedicures—someone had even done her makeup.

And now…with infinite care, she put on her gown. As she pulled the straps up over her arms, she glanced in the mirror and stared. God, she looked…fantastic. Elegant. The beautician had French braided her hair in a deceptively simple style, weaving in tiny strands of diamond-laced pink ribbon that matched Mac's gown. I sparkle.

“Very nice.” Alex appeared in the mirror behind her and zipped up the back of the gown. Or maybe it should be called the butt of the dress, considering the absence of any material from her shoulders to her hips. She jumped when Alex's hand slid down her spine and stopped just above her bottom. On bare skin. “Dancing with you will be a pleasure,” he murmured. Moving closer, he bent his head and kissed her in the hollow below her ear, making a humming sound when he smelled the exotic perfume one of the women had insisted was her fragrance.

His approval made her glow more than all the pampering. She glanced in the mirror again and smiled. Of course, she did look nice. Really, really nice. And he'd arranged it all.

All. She raised her chin, scowling into Alex's eyes in the mirror. “You sadist,” she snapped. “You told them to…” She felt her face turning red and sputtered out, “Do you know how much that hurts?”

Her move away from him was forestalled when he put one unyielding arm around her waist. His other hand slid down her gown to press against her groin. The feel of silky fabric, then the warmth of his hand penetrating to her poor bare pussy made her shiver, and he chuckled.

“I'll make amends later,” he murmured in her ear, and she could feel his cock hardening where he pressed against her from behind.

She thought about what his mouth would feel like on all that newly bare, sensitive skin, and her breathing hitched. “Mmmmh.” She cleared her throat against the constriction. “You do that, then.”

“Oh I intend to.” With a low laugh, he nipped the top of her shoulder, and her nipples puckered so tightly, they ached.

She pulled in a breath. Enough, or they'd spend the evening in bed. She moved far enough away to turn. Getting a good look at him, she blinked. “Wow. You clean up pretty nice, Mr. Fontaine.”

His eyes crinkled, only adding to the devastating effect of all that masculinity in a black tuxedo. “Thank you. Now you may tell Butler the same.” He nodded at the door.

She followed his gaze and burst out laughing. Sitting politely by the door, Butler had on a dog-style tux and bow tie. Rather than appearing chagrined by the costume, he looked quite proud of himself.

“You look stunning, Butler. I'm going to be with the two most gorgeous males there tonight.”

Butler's muzzle rose a little in acknowledgment of this truth.

Well, the evening couldn't be all bad if people brought their pets. She took a deep breath as Alex draped her cape over her shoulders.

Now if she only didn't do anything stupid…

Chapter Fifteen

The black-tie event of the fall, one newspaper had called it. Mac gaped like a hick as they walked through a hotel lobby filled with the elite of Seattle society, many of whom had pet escorts ranging from Chihuahuas in chiffon tutus to Great Danes in diamond-studded collars.

One German shepherd paraded around in a crown and kingly robes. “Oh my, just look at him.” After a second, Mac recalled herself. “Butler, you're the best-looking dog here.”

Butler gave her a dignified tail wave in answer.

Holding Butler's leash, Alex chuckled. “The pet stores do a brisk business before the ball.” He set his hand on her lower back, and his thumb stroked over her bare skin.

Giving him an exasperated look, she saw the amusement in his eyes. He definitely liked her backless gown. As he guided her through the crowd, exchanging greetings with people here and there, Mac tried not to enjoy the protective feeling of his arm around her. Don't get used to it, MacKensie. Nothing like this lasts.

Although she wouldn't lose him for at least two more weeks.

Really, she shouldn't have let him talk her into staying, but her common sense and her own desire had overcome her pride. But once she had a job, then her common sense would be satisfied, and she'd leave.

Frak, I'll miss him.

When the hotel manager cornered Alex with questions about the auction, Mac watched the people milling around and realized she didn't know any of them. Good. No one to point fingers or whisper behind her back. And yet loneliness created a little hollow in her chest. After the hotel manager bustled away, she asked, “Will Hope and Peter be here?”

Alex brushed his knuckles over her cheek, his look so tender, she couldn't move. “We'll find them in the auction area. Peter volunteered to oversee one of the tables.”

They made it at least twenty feet before they were stopped again. Alex performed introductions, talked briefly, and moved on. Ten feet. Introductions. Chatting as Butler politely exchanged sniffs with each leashed pet. Ten more feet. “Do you know everyone here?” Mac finally asked.

“Fontaine Industries owns various businesses, properties, and all that, so I know a lot of people, yes. And those who support the dog and cat programs come every year.” He grinned and bent down to pat Butler. “This is Butler's fourth year.”

“Alex, good to see you.” A middle-aged brunette in a scarlet gown strolled over. “The auction is a hit. How did you finagle those cruise-ship packages?”

“I have a sweet-talking manager who I sicced on the cruise lines.” Alex smiled at Mac. “Susan, this is my friend MacKensie Taylor. She's a vet from the Midwest and plans to relocate here to Seattle. Mac, this is Susan Weston. She runs the Weston Animal Hospital.”

They talked briefly about Mac's first view of the Sound and mountains, then the work Susan did for the spay-neuter programs. By the time Susan excused herself, Mac had decided to add Susan's hospital to her list of places to apply.

As they drifted toward the huge room set up for the silent auction, Mac met ten more veterinarians, most of whom owned their own clinics. “Don't any middle-class people attend this event?” she asked finally when she and Alex were alone.

“Not too many,” he said absently, nodding at a couple. “It's four hundred dollars a plate.”

She stopped dead, and he'd taken two steps past her before realizing she was gone. With a huffed laugh, he returned. Running his hands up and down her bare arms, he said, “Relax, pet. Keeping the price high draws the big spenders so we can soak them good in the auction room. That is the point, after all.”

“Yes, but—”

“Just treat everyone like Butler does,” he advised. “His only concern is if a person smells good and knows how to pet a dog properly.”

Hearing his name, Butler looked up and wagged his tail.

Mac pulled in a breath. “Okay. I…sorry. I just hadn't realized—thought about…” She shrugged helplessly. God, she was so far out of her class… Her chest ached.

Alex's hands tightened on her arms. “No. I don't want to see that look in your eyes.” He frowned at her. “People are people. A lot of the ones here inherited money. They didn't do anything productive to earn it. Others gave up everything to get rich. Does having money and no character make a person admirable?”

But if they knew what she'd done? But they don't, stupid. Get over it. She looked great, and the most gorgeous man in the place escorted her. Her lips curved. “All right. Sorry. Momentary panic attack,” she said lightly.

Alex kissed her cheek gently. “Now that's character,” he said, then continued leading her into the auction room.

“MacKensie!”

Mac froze, then grinned as a tiny streak of electric blue sped across the room. “Hope, you're here.”

“Look at you! You look awesome.” Hope clapped her hands, then wrinkled her nose at Alex. “Phht, you don't deserve her, you know.”

Mac's mouth dropped open. When Peter appeared and drew Alex's attention, she edged closer to Hope and whispered, “Won't you get in trouble talking to him that way?”

Hope giggled. “No. The rules are for play or… Well, each couple is different. Some are truly Master and slave all the time, but those in our little group aren't.” She shook her head. “Of course, if I give him too much grief, he'll make me suffer for it the next time we all get together.”

When Peter and Hope headed back to their station at an auction table, an older woman broke away from a small group. Wearing a silvery gown that accented her blue eyes and silver hair, she seemed the epitome of dignity. Taking Alex's hand, she kissed his cheek lightly and said, “I'm giving a dinner party next Friday, and I'd like you to attend.”

Mac frowned at how familiar her voice sounded. Maybe from one of the vet's offices or…

“Why don't you bring Cynthia with you?” the woman asked.

Do not glare; glaring is not polite. Mac smoothed her expression out with an effort. But maybe this was a good time to go hang out with Peter and Hope for a bit. She started to edge away.

Alex's hand wrapped around her arm, holding her in place. “Cynthia moved to Rome, Mother.”

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 785