In His Cuffs Page 6

  He released her nipples and grabbed her hips, tilting them and holding her in place.

  Lost in her surrender, David fucked her hard. The bass from the music outside drove him. He had to have this woman. Now.

  He froze. A fraction of a second later, hot cum spurted, filling the condom. He stood there, saying nothing, holding her, his cock still thick.

  A last bit surged up, making him feel drained.

  “Yum,” she said. “Thank you.”

  He released his grip on her hips.

  “I hope I get bruises there,” she said.

  David gave a wry smile. “That wasn’t my intention, princess. I generally have more control during an orgasm.”

  “The way you made me come… I’m glad you had the same reaction,” she whispered.

  When he’d invited her to play, he hadn’t thought much beyond spanking her ass. He hadn’t anticipated that the woman who fought him so much would be so captivating, that he’d want to know her more.

  He withdrew from her.

  After disposing of the condom, he crossed the room to give her bottom some support and release her arms. “Take your time,” he cautioned, rubbing her shoulders and wrists.

  “Ow,” she said.

  “Take your time,” he repeated. “When you’re ready, I’m going to remove the butt plug.”

  “I, ah, I can do that myself, Mr Tomlinson.”

  “Embarrassment at this point, Maggie?”

  “That seems a little personal,” she admitted.

  “Get over it.”

  She turned her head to one side.

  He teased her pussy to focus her attention while he pulled out the plug. “Not so bad, was it?”

  “If you say so.”

  “It’s not too late to give you a few more swats.”

  “I was agreeing with you, Sir.”

  “Ah.” He went to the sink and washed the plug and his hands before loosening the bonds securing her legs. He massaged her lower legs, then worked the area of her hip flexors.

  “Do I have to tip you, Mr Tomlinson?” she asked when he was done.

  “I consider this part of the service,” he replied, helping her to sit. “How does your body feel?”

  She wiggled her toes and fingers. “Well used.” She smiled. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He offered a hand to steady her as she eased from the table.

  While he pulled on his jeans, she slid back into her stockings, moving her body in an appealing, feminine way. “This is almost as erotic as seeing you naked,” he said. He folded his arms across his chest and watched her clip the garter belt to the stockings, all the while wondering if he could revise the company dress code to require she wear this to work every day.

  Immediately he nixed that idea.

  He’d get nothing done.

  She stepped into the skirt. All the time, she’d avoided putting on the bra. He wondered if it was intentional.

  Finally she did put on the purple lingerie, and he was pretty damn sure he’d spend a lot of time in the future fantasising about taking it back off her.

  She fought with the tight shirt, so he stepped in. “Sorry, I can’t stand there and watch you struggle,” he said, taking the material from her.

  Though her eyes widened, she didn’t protest.

  He helped her into the shirt and smoothed it into place.

  She kept her fingertips on his forearm as she slipped into her shoes.

  “Make me a promise, Mr Tomlinson?”

  He inclined his head.

  “Don’t wear that armband to work.”

  “Too much of a reminder about who you really are and where you belong?”

  She betrayed her inner thoughts by looking at the floor before unblinkingly meeting his gaze. “The HM stands for House Monitor, not His Majesty,” she said saucily. “I want you to remember that.”

  David extrapolated from her statement. “No authority over you outside of the Den?”

  “None.”

  He traced her collar. “Then don’t wear this again until you’re ready to cede authority for your sexual satisfaction to me.”

  Her sweet, sexy lips parted. Then she blinked, breaking the momentary spell she’d held him under. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr Tomlinson.”

  “Likewise, Ms Carpenter.”

  Without another word, she turned and exited the room before closing the door with a decisive snick.

  It bothered him that she’d vanished before he could ensure she was completely okay. He’d hoped to spend a few minutes caring for her, even talking. He wished she’d waited long enough to at least have a few sips of water.

  Christ. She might not have needed a few minutes of aftercare, but he needed to give them.

  In the past, he’d been accused of being relentless. He didn’t take time off for vacations, and had caused trouble on his honeymoon when his bride had caught him on his laptop in the middle of the night. During stressful times, he’d get in two workouts. He didn’t require much sleep and he had boundless energy. He saw each day as a task list and he methodically checked things off and kept moving.

  Until Maggie, he’d had no urge to soothe a woman he’d beaten. Lack of cuddling and intimacy had decimated his marriage.

  By the time he’d pulled his boots back on, washed his toys, packed his bag, collected the leash and returned to find Damien in the sunroom, she’d already caught the shuttle bus back to Winter Park.

  “It’s not like you to mix business and BDSM,” Damien observed, sipping from a glass of mineral water, enhanced with a twist of lime.

  David didn’t need long to think about that. “If the woman in question wasn’t Maggie, it wouldn’t have happened tonight.”

  Damien waited.

  “Until now I’ve never before wanted to paddle someone who reports to me.”

  “I can understand the temptation.”

  A house sub accepted David’s bag and left them alone without ever saying a word.

  “How did it go?” Damien asked.

  David frowned. “You tell me. Obviously you saw her before she left, if you knew she was gone.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask her yourself,” Damien said after what seemed to be a considerable silence.

  “Fair enough. She was okay, though?”

  “It doesn’t appear you made her cry.”

  “Maybe I’m losing my touch.”

  Damien shrugged. “Or she’s tougher than we gave her credit for. At any rate, you needn’t worry about her, I’d say.”

  David knew he’d get nothing more out of Damien. That was something confounding and reassuring about the Den’s owner. The man knew everything and revealed no one’s confidences. While it could be frustrating, it was reassuring.

  From the corner of his eye, David saw Brandy put up her hand to push away a man. “Brandy may need us to intervene.”

  Damien looked.

  Niles, another House Monitor, had obviously already seen what was happening and had moved towards the pair. David wasn’t surprised at the other man’s quick action, but he was surprised to see Niles at the Den. He hadn’t attended many public functions since the death of his beautiful wife and sub.

  “I’ll handle it,” Damien said, following David’s gaze. “If you’re back on duty, the patio needs an extra set of eyes.” He turned away then paused and looked back. “Unless you require a little more time to collect yourself?”

  “Not at all.” David welcomed the responsibilities. Having something to do suited his personality better than worrying or fretting over Maggie. He was the type of man who shoved aside mental and emotional entanglements. Or he had until Maggie had fled without them having the serious talk they needed.

  Confounded woman.

  “That’s what I expected.” With a brisk nod, Damien left.

  David took up his post outside near the speaker. Thankfully, Evan C was on hiatus, or whatever a band break was called. David wasn’t sure how much more his eardrums could take of that
racket. And some people considered it music. Took all kinds.

  As it was Ladies’ Night, there were dozens of subs inside and outside, all shapes and sizes, all of them appealing in some way, from soft curves to lean lines. Some women he’d seen before. From their behaviour, others were obvious first-timers.

  None of them interested him.

  It went deeper than the fact he’d recently had sex. But that was where it had to end.

  David was a man of his word He intended to keep his end of the deal he’d made tonight with Maggie. He didn’t fraternise. He kept his professional boundaries firm so that no employee would try to curry favour. Each week he signed pay cheques, and he didn’t want anyone worrying that if they rebuffed an advance or didn’t invite him to a party that their job was on the line. Everyone knowing where he stood made life simpler.

  Since he didn’t socialise much, he spent considerable time by himself.

  Not that he minded.

  It had taken him a while to admit he was probably better off alone. His ex-wife had called him selfish.

  When he’d got married, he’d thought it was forever. He’d never wanted a divorce. Worse, he hadn’t seen it coming. One day, six years ago, he’d arrived home from work, hours later than he’d planned. A plate of cold food had been sitting on the table. All of Sandra’s belongings had been gone.

  It had taken that for him to admit he had an obsessive personality. His single-minded focus on what he wanted excluded everything else in his life.

  In the settlement, he’d instructed his lawyer to give Sandra everything she asked for. She’d unselfishly given him six years of her life—she deserved financial compensation as well as the happiness he hadn’t provided for her.

  He wasn’t bitter, he was just wiser. Avoiding relationships was better for the woman, if not for him.

  Allowing himself the freedom to think about Maggie for even five minutes would be a bad decision. They’d work together until her employment contract was up, and that would be the extent of their future involvement.

  Still, he fingered the handcuffs hanging from his belt loop.

  Despite his most powerful intentions, he couldn’t help but think about tightening them around her wrists.

  He wanted her on her knees and in his cuffs.

  Chapter Four

  Stark raving mad.

  Thoughts of David Tomlinson were going to drive Maggie insane.

  Instead of getting out of her car and walking the few blocks to the Market Street offices, she sat there staring at the Rocky Mountains. Even the stunning sight of bright sunshine splashing on the distant peaks couldn’t banish images of David from her mind.

  Ever since her father had passed when she was ten, Maggie had prided herself on her predictable, responsible behaviour. She’d helped her mother with cooking and cleaning. Maggie had learnt to set an alarm clock and get herself to school. She’d secured a college scholarship and had worked as a waitress so she’d never have to ask her struggling mother for anything.

  Even when she was ill, Maggie showed up to work on time to unlock the door. She didn’t trust her mother to do it. When ideas were flowing, Gloria often stayed up all night. Even in the best of circumstances, time seemed to be a vague concept to her.

  A number of people had keys to the office. David was almost always early. Anyone could open up, but Maggie felt it was her responsibility to be there for the official start of business. So why was she still in the vehicle at ten past eight, fingers curled around the steering wheel?

  In her typical fashion, she forced herself to face facts. She was stalling.

  At the Den, she’d been filled with bravado. She had promised herself she could strip down, accept a spanking from her boss and finish with him fucking her. Why not? As she’d said, they were both adults. The incident was an interlude in their lives and had no bearing on their work relationship.

  When she was dressed, looking at him with his armband and bare chest, she had realised she’d been lying to herself.

  The scene had been scorching hot.

  Over the years, she’d been with many Doms. Most of them had been fantastically good and had made sure she was satisfied. But David had been focused, pushing her, demanding her full participation.

  Feeling conflicted, wanting to pretend it was another in a long series of one-off scenes, but already picturing a continuation, she had tried to leave, only to be stopped by Master Damien. It would have been rude to brush past him, and really, when the house’s owner requested a moment, a sub gave it to him, no matter what he or she was dealing with.

  He’d looked at her enquiringly and let her know he’d checked on her while she played with Master David.

  She’d promised Master Damien she was okay, but she suspected he’d seen through her tremulous smile. She’d reassured him that David had been a considerate Dom.

  After a few more questions, Master Damien had allowed her to leave.

  She’d caught the first available bus back to Winter Park. When Vanessa had arrived at the hotel sometime after midnight, she hadn’t cared that Maggie was in bed. Instead, Vanessa had flipped on a light, poured them each a glass of wine and demanded to know every last, little detail.

  Since they were best friends, they were always there for one another. Therefore, Vanessa had vicariously lived through the whole fiasco with the company’s acquisition. Maggie had felt a bit betrayed by her mother’s lack of honesty about the firm’s financial situation. Because her lax attitude towards bills and collections had put them in a precarious position, Gloria had opened the door to the takeover.

  Vanessa had made Maggie see a brighter side, and they’d laughed as they’d painted a picture of David Tomlinson with horns and a pointy tail. More than anyone, Vanessa knew how complex Maggie’s relationship was with David.

  Upon learning Maggie had just been screwed by the handsome devil-Dom—literally as well as figuratively—Vanessa had bounced on the bed’s edge and predicted that Maggie would beg Master David to spank her again, within a fortnight.

  Hearing Vanessa call her boss Master David had made Maggie a little dizzy. To her, Master David was a totally different person than the one she worked with and was obligated to. Wasn’t he?

  Maggie wasn’t sure how she was going to act towards him today. Cool? Professional? Nonchalant? Or maybe warmer than normal? For certain, she would not behave like a submissive. She’d meet his gaze, talk to him as an equal.

  She’d half expected to hear from him yesterday. But the phone had remained silent. Her nerves were taut.

  Reminding herself she wasn’t a coward, she determinedly unwrapped her hands from the death grip she had on the steering wheel.

  She gathered her purse and briefcase, kept her sunglasses on her face to disguise the weekend’s lack of sleep then exited and locked the vehicle.

  Pretending this was a day like any other, she purposefully walked towards the brick building that housed World Wide Now. As she neared the entrance, her shoulders slumped a little. She could be in denial all she wanted. But most Monday mornings she didn’t arrive at the office bearing a welt her boss had left on her ass.

  She drew a breath, smoothed her skirt and hair, dropped her sunglasses in her purse then opened the door and stepped inside.

  The receptionist sat at the front desk, a huge mug of coffee in front of her.

  “Morning, Mags,” Barb greeted.

  “Tell me there’s more of that coffee?” she asked hopefully.

  “Are you kidding? I just put on the second pot. Should be about done.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Eleven minutes.”

  Maggie laughed. Good thing coffee went on the office supplies line item in the budget. Mr Tomlinson didn’t have to know how much was actually spent on staples and paperclips as opposed to caffeine. “So,” she said. “What kind of mood is David in today?”

  The receptionist shrugged. “No idea. I haven’t seen him yet.”

  “Meaning h
e’s in his office with the door closed?”

  “Meaning he hasn’t shown up yet. I was the first one here today.”

  Maggie blinked. World Wide Now had flexible work hours, except for certain prescheduled meetings. David Tomlinson was a by-the-rules and by-the-clock owner. Employees coming and going at all hours didn’t sit well with him and was one of the reasons he often reached for one of the many primary-coloured stress balls that he kept on his credenza. In all the time he’d owned the company, he’d never shown up late.

  “He didn’t call in or anything.” Barb shrugged. “Since he’s not here, it’s kind of a mini-vacation for us. You should enjoy it.”

  Maggie felt like a deflated balloon.

  It had taken her all morning to psyche herself up, and he wasn’t even here?

  After getting a much-needed cup of coffee, she headed for her office and slumped into the chair behind her desk.

  She checked her emails and voice messages. There was nothing from David, but she had a response from a potential client she’d been trying to schedule a meeting with. She also had a message from their preferred caterer. Maggie and her mother had decided to host an open house as a way to increase business and introduce David to their existing clients. It would keep her busy for a while and, honestly, give her something to fixate on other than her boss spanking her again.

  She wished the scene at the Den hadn’t met so many of her turn-ons.

  Damn.

  With determined focus, she sent a list of possible times to the potential new customer, studied the catering menu and made some notes to go over with David, since he now had to approve her budget. An hour later, her coffee was gone, she’d handled all the urgent tasks and she still hadn’t heard from her boss.

  Her mother, however, showed up in a long, flowing skirt and tank top, with jewellery dripping everywhere—necklaces, bracelets, earrings, even toe rings. She’d obviously dyed her hair over the weekend, and her fingernails were manicured. She looked fresh and radiant and, as she theatrically threw herself into a chair, every inch a creative diva.