Holly's Christmas Dom-Brieanna-final edit (4 page)

Holly had never before heard such determination in his
voice. Oh shit. Her clit did the samba, and her pussy joined in at the pictures
that rushed into her mind. She pushed them away and concentrated on what Mac
was saying—or tried to. It wasn't easy when all she could see was a naked Mac
bending over her and...
No, no. Stop it
already.

"Will you hear me out? Please? Without
interrupting?" he asked. Only the faint shake of the finger over her mouth
showed how tense he was. Otherwise, he could have been asking her to make a
cuppa. "Then you can ask anything you want."

She nodded, and he lifted his finger far enough for
her to speak. "Okay, but I'm not saying I'll agree with anything,"
she said in a rush as her words tumbled over each other. "And if I have
questions after, you promise you'll answer them?"

He looked shocked. "Ah, Holls, of course I will.
As well as show you anything you need a demonstration of."

That was what she was worried about. What if she didn't
like the demonstrations? What if she did? His short descriptions of what he
liked had her cream gathering and would have resulted in several sessions with
her vibrator if he hadn't demanded that she not come. As it was, she was
frustrated and jumpy. Holly wasn't a total innocent. Her experience with a hot
male body might be almost nonexistent, but her experience with her purple
friend wasn't. Carol might have Verne, but she had Roger the Rabbit. Or she had
until Mac's letter. Poor Roger was now sadly neglected.

"Yes, well, we'll see. Okay, Mac, go for it."

Chapter
Five

Mac stood up and stalled for time while he poured
another glass of the non alcoholic wine. He was thirsty, he needed it, and in
case they were going to play, he had no intention of drinking alcohol. He was already
drunk on the scent of her. It was heady, arousing, and kept his cock hard, ready,
and straining the denim. It had been like that ever since he’d saw seen her
earlier. Already he could feel his pre cum gather faster than ever, and he
hoped to hell it didn't stain his jeans.

Holly looked up at him from the cushion she sat on.

"Wine?"

She shook her head. "It’s too sweet for me.”

“Merlot?”

“No, not yet. Water, please."

That's got to be a good
sign, surely?
He
filled a glass with water and handed it to her.

"You must be a mind reader." Mac gestured to
the cushion. "Because that is your seat when, if," he corrected
himself, "we scene. Do you understand that?"

She swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

 
Sir. Soon, I hope it will be yes, Sir.

As much as he wanted pull her up to sit next to him,
rub his thigh against her thigh, rest his hands on her shoulders, and stroke
his fingers across her breasts, Mac forced himself to resume his seat on the
chair. He needed to be able to see her reactions. Tonight, he was going to tell
her everything.

"Did you read my letter? All of it?"

"Yes." Her voice was thready. She licked her
lips, and the sight of her pink tongue tracing the contours of her mouth was
enough to make him grip his wineglass so hard it was a wonder it didn't snap.
Her skin was kissed with the sheen of her arousal, and the pulse in her neck
beat out a staccato rhythm. Whatever she said to the contrary, his preferences
intrigued and excited her. He swore he could sense her excitement in the scent.

"Did you understand it?"

She swallowed, her eyes dilated, and her hand shook so
much her water danced dangerously near the rim of her glass. With exaggerated
care, she set the vessel on the floor and stood up. Her fingers were clenched
together so tightly the knuckles stood out white against her body. For the
first time in his life, Mac knew true fear—gut-churning, pulse-racing,
cock-shriveling fear. She was scared. Now, so was he.

"Yes." Holly spoke softly, so low he had to
concentrate to hear her. But it was definitely an affirmative.

He wanted to punch the air. Jump up and down and run
around the room shouting, "Yee hah!” and do a “yes, yes, yessss” Meg Ryan
impression. Instead, he remained impassive.

"Do you have questions?" It was definitely
his Dom voice.

It didn't faze Holly. Her eyes lit up, and she
giggled. "Come on, Mac—er, I mean, well, maybe should I call you
Sir?"

Yes.

"I'd like that, pet. I'd like it very much. If
you're sure."

"Well, Sir, I'm not sure. This is me. Of course I
have questions. Oodles of them. But I'll add the Sir bit while I ask.""

Oodles? Shit.

"Then you better ask them. I’ll defer to you
here. You know what you need explaining."

A gust of wind made the fire spark and crackle. The
sudden noise broke the tension, and he saw her jump, then deliberately calm
herself. She cleared her throat self-consciously.

"Ah, right." She put her hands inside her
top and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

Mac watched, bemused. What on earth was she doing?

"My list," Holly explained. "I put it
under my bra strap so I wouldn't lose it." Enlightenment dawned. He'd
forgotten Holly's propensity for making lists. Everything from food shopping to
a to-do-list, she had some sort of inventory.

"So." She squinted at the piece of paper in
her hand and then back at him. "Damn, I wish I had my lenses in."

"Why don't you?" he asked, and realized they
were moving away from the subject at hand. "No, it doesn't matter. I don't
believe for one minute you haven't memorized what you want to ask."

Holly flushed. He loved it.
I'm going to make her that color all over. For a totally different
reason.

"Well, anyway, I have to have a day a week
without them in, and because of the snow, I didn't put my glasses on. They're
in Noel’s car with my wellies, I guess. And sod it, Mac—Sir, you know me too
well," she said, and glared at him. He wouldn't have been surprised to see
her stick her tongue out like she used to do when they were kids. Indignation
was written all over her.

Go on, do it, let me
have a reason to spank that luscious ass straight away.

Her hands moved as she talked, making shapes in the
air, and her voice was high. "Why are you dominant?" she asked
quickly. Her words ran into each other in her haste.

"It's what I am."
Lame, Mac. That's nowhere good enough an answer.
"I need to be
able to give you everything you want and need. I do that by showing you how to
achieve it. I..." He hesitated. "Okay, let's go back to the beginning.
Do you remember when we were teenagers? When I caught you smoking and I turned
you over my knee and spanked you?"

Her pout made his prick swell. Damn if his dick wasn't
up and down like a tart's knickers.

"Yeah," Holly said. "Twelve times, six
on each butt cheek. I was so sore. I hated you."

"So you said at the time. Once that first sting
died down, though, you loved it, didn't you?" It was not a question. "All
those arousing squirms and moans you made. They set me on fire. My cock was so
hard, I had to go and fist myself after I left you. It was that or fuck you and
have Noel kill me."

To his amazement, she grinned.

Bloody hell, she is such
a mass of contradictions. I'm going to enjoy this...if this happens.

"Yeah, well. Why do you think I pushed and
prodded you every time we met after that? I wanted to see if I really had got—"
She stopped talking suddenly.

Mac decided it was time to move things forward—fast. "Wet?
Turned on?" he suggested. "Tell me, pet. Let's start as if you are
going to be my partner."

Of course she picked up on his phrasing. "Partner?
I thought you needed to be the one in charge. That you were the controller, and
I was to be your..." She paused and licked her lips again.

Damn, I wish she'd stop
doing that.
"My what?" he prompted when she didn't start speaking again.

"Not your partner or equal," Holly said. Her
voice was so low and, once more, he had to strain to hear her. She crinkled her
sheet of paper in her hands. The rustle seemed to irritate her because she
scrunched it up and handed it to him. "I don't need that. I know what it
says. Now, you want me to bow down to you, to do what you demand. By my
reckoning, then I'd just be your sub."

"Dammit, Holly, I thought you'd fucking read my
letter. Haven't you listened to anything I've said to you?" Mac ran his
hands through his hair in exasperation. "You wouldn't be my just anything."

He could tell she wasn't convinced. Her eyes were
wide, and if he had to bet, he'd say the reason her lips were clamped shut was
so they didn't tremble. Her teeth worried the skin. It took all of his will not
to tell her to stop, not to worry. He'd go away and never approach her again.
But he couldn't do it, because he had to know.

"Okay," Mac said suddenly. "I give in.
Have it your way. A Dom dominates, doesn't let his sub have a say in anything
they do. That's me. I'm a Dom. I'm cruel, I overrule and bully my sub. I get my
rocks off on inflicting pain for pain's sake. I'll hurt you, beat you, and you
won't be able to do anything about it. I'll be the boss. I'll be in charge."
He ignored her startled gasp and the flush that began to color her skin. He
couldn't afford to wonder why it was there. "Is that what you want me to
say? Okay, no problem, I can say it. It's only words. Yeah, horrible hateful words,
but words can't kill you. They can maim you mentally, but shit, you think I'm
capable of physically injuring you, so what does a little bit of mental torture
matter?"

 
Mac stood up
and started to pace across the room. There was a red haze in front of his eyes,
and he desperately wanted to throw something or smash his fist into the wall.
At that moment, it didn't matter which, as long as he could get the hurt and
pain he felt channeled into something else. How could Holly think that he would
abuse her? His anger dissipated as fast as it had appeared, and he felt immense
sadness wash over him. Mac stopped pacing and knelt on the floor in front of
her. If he hadn't been so immersed in the moment, he might have seen some humor
in the situation. As it was, all he wanted was to understand. He took a deep
breath.

"Hell, Holly, am I that sort of person? Is that
what you think?"

Chapter
Six

What? The words pierced like daggers into Holly's skin
as she looked at the man kneeling on the floor in front of her. Mac was no
supplicant, even in that position. He looked mean and angry, yes, but also hot
and vulnerable. Her skin crawled with the thought of what she'd done. She knew
without a shadow of a doubt Mac was not a bully or an abuser, so why had she
provoked him?

Because I don't want to
make that decision. I don't want to admit I'm turned on by what he wants.
Not even to herself
could she admit she wanted to see what being a sub—no, his sub—would be like.
Holly knew he didn't want anyone else to touch her. He'd made that clear over
the years. She felt the same. Hell, she must be the only twenty-eight-year-old
virgin with a propensity to tie herself up and fuck herself in the history of
bondage. But to be open and admit it was something else entirely.

For one brief second, she wondered why she'd never
been attracted to anyone enough to break Mac's unspoken demands. She'd had
boyfriends, but the romances had never really progressed past a few odd kisses
and a couple of gropes. All of which had left her cold. Mac's yearly visits,
unfulfilling as they had been, plus a very interesting assortment of toys, most
of which had come from him, had been enough. Thank heavens for plain brown
packaging. Now, though...

"I'm scared," she blurted out, and saw his
eyebrows lift in surprise.

"Of me?"

Oh shit, why didn't I
realize he'd think that?
How could she explain it wasn't him?
Honestly,
just spell it out already.

"No, I, er..." She firmed her voice. It was
time to grow up and be honest. "No, Sir, never of you. Of me." Holly
touched his shoulder, and his muscles rippled under her hands. That small
frisson of awareness firmed her intentions. Without fathoming why, Holly slid off
the cushion and onto the floor next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.
With a soft stroke to her back, Mac held and soothed her. His hands smoothed
soft circles over her shoulders.

"Tell me, pet. Please." He swept her hair to
one side, and with feather-light kisses, caressed her neck. "Why are you
scared? I need to understand."

Holly made up her mind and lifted her head. Had he
realized she'd sat in front him as a sub would? Duh, of course he had. However,
she knew he would do nothing more. It was all up—or down—to her.

"Did you know I'm still technically a virgin,
Mac?" Holly was fairly sure he did. She had an idea he knew most things,
if not everything, about her. Although she had never let on, Ed, one of her
boyfriends, who later became a good friend and escort—no sex, no strings, no
subterfuge—had told her he'd been investigated and warned to be careful. He
had, with a little help from his friends, dug deep and found out rather more
information than Holly had bargained for. How dare Mac follow her life like
that? In consequence, once she'd got over the red-hot, all-consuming rage that
hit her, she'd done her own digging. What she'd found had both horrified and
pleased her, but this wasn't the time to admit her knowledge. Not that
knowledge anyway.

"I knew," Mac confirmed. "Or I guessed.
I have to admit something here, Holls. Over these last ten years, I've been...
Hold on, what the fuck do you mean 'technically?’" His eyes flashed
sparks. Her juices began to flow like a river in full spate. That look was so
lethal it needed an X rating. All Holly could think of was how she wanted at
last to feel him deep inside her, any which way.
And, dammit, I need to come.

"I mean, I can't say I'm hymen intacto or
anything," she explained. "You know, riding horses, Mac. Horses. Take
your mind out of your gonads for a second, Sir. Anyway, horse riding is said to
render that particular membrane useless. So, I guess, do a good few of your
presents. But have I had a prick, any type of prick, dick, cock, or whatever
you want to call it inside me? You know I haven't. Mind you, a fair few have
tried." She waited for his response. Would he own up to his considerable
part in ensuring she'd remained like that?

"Yeah, I know, but, oh fuck." He rolled his
eyes. Holly burst out laughing.

"I haven't. We might." She giggled. "Oh,
Mac, Sir, you should see your face. Talk about busted. You were very careful
and incredibly clever. It was just a pity for you that Ed Samprall has friends
in high places. And I have access to more information than I reckon you, or
now, let me see, Mark Anstruther, Ian Chase, Per Sobriani, or Ms. J. F. Rester
realized. Hmm, have I missed anyone?" She tilted her head to one side,
daring him to take offense.

He didn't. "Clever, pet," he said. His tone
held nothing but admiration. "How did you find out?"

"That you were keeping tabs on me and chasing any
prospective sh—er friends with benefits away?"
Damn, I nearly said shaggers or fuck buddies. I don't want to show him
how unladylike I am yet. Even though I reckon he's got to have a good idea.
"Like I said, friends with friends in high places. Ed is in quite a sensitive
position in... Well, anyway, once you or your PI's started digging, it brought
up very large flags, furiously waving. He told me, and we—er, shall we say, we
got very good at putting out red herrings. Ed is a friend, a very good friend,
but nothing else. He has his own agenda. Though seriously, Mac, you didn't need
to waste your money. I told you years ago I'd wait, and I meant it. I just didn't
expect it to be ten bloody years. Shit, if I hadn't kept all channels of
communication open, I reckon they'd be sealed up so tightly by now you'd never
pry them open, even with what I reckon is a magnificent chisel." She gave
a pointed look at the fly of his jeans where his cock was outlined in all its
magnificence.

"Yeah, well, I had reasons. Good reasons," Mac
said. He stopped talking and stared at her. His eyes were almost black as he
looked unblinking at her face. A slow tingle began to spread across Holly's
skin. It was all she could do not to jump him.

"Dammit, Sir, for goodness sake, tell me and show
me and let me say yay or nay. I'm hot and throbbing here," she said
frankly. "And if you aren't going to help me, I'll help myself. And that
is something I've been carful not to do ever since that letter that told me in
no uncertain terms that my climax belonged to you. Now, panic station’s over. I'm
ready. How about you tell me and show me your secrets?"

Would he believe her? She accepted she was
apprehensive about what was going to happen, but Holly was no fool. As sure as
the sun set and rose, she was aware that she had to find out what a commitment
to Mac would mean.

"I think I'll have to. So, okay, Holly."

He paused and looked at her, his face still, his eyes
on hers. That searching look stripped her of all pretenses. It reached her soul
and filled her with anticipation. She waited, hardly daring to breathe in case
she spoiled the moment.

"Tell me, what does BDSM mean to you?"

This is it. Showtime.

Instead of answering straightaway, Holly stood up and
walked across the room to the window. As she rubbed a circle in the
condensation on the glass, she could feel Mac's gaze on her. Outside, the snow
had stopped falling, but drifts were piled up on the wall of the house and the
window ledge. Where she thought the lawn should be was like a white, rolling
sea with waves as far as the darkness allowed her to notice. There was no
chance of leaving the building in a hurry.

Holly turned to face Mac, who hadn't moved.

"I wanted to show you my room," she said. "It
would help you to understand me. But there's no way we can go there now. Not
without a St. Bernard or huskies and a sled."

Mac chuckled, but his eyes were wary. "You have a
house, Holls, not just a room."

"I have a room in my house. A special room that I
wanted to show you." This had to be Holly to Mac, not potential sub to
potential Sir. "As it is, I can't, but let's just say I enjoy myself
there. By myself. With all the toys and ideas you have given me. No one else
has ever been in it. You're the only person I think I might invite in. Maybe.
So." She turned her mind away from her room and toward his question. "Um,
BDSM. Well, until recently, I'd have said it's all about a person dominating another
one, ruling their partner, and dictating everything. And the thought of being
dominated like that scares the shit out of me. I can think of nothing worse
than being dictated to and having no say in what happens. I would have added
that the Dom, can do what he, or I guess she, likes and the sub has to put up
with it. No, don't butt in." She held her hand in the air, aware of his
growing anger. "I said until recently. Now I don't believe that, but I'm
totally confused. I've read some books, and some say one thing, and some
something else. I just don't know what to believe anymore."

Except I'm so wet, I
reckon you could wring me out. And so excited that at last I might stop being
Holly Winters, the oldest virgin of the parish.

She leaned against the window ledge. "I've read
about trust and safe words, subspace and endorphin rushes. But do I understand
any of it? Do I, hell. Do I want to?" She shook her head and saw Mac's
face leech of color, his eyes close, but not before she saw the pain in them
and he swayed.
Oh fuck.
"Shit,
Mac, no, I wasn't shaking my head to say no. I'm trying to form my thoughts.
What I am saying," she said, and cleared her throat. Her words had come
out distorted. There was a lump in her throat that made it hard to speak or
swallow. "Is oh hell, yes, I sure am interested. As long as maybe you, as
my Sir, is the one to show me?"

Holly held her breath. It was the biggest gamble she
had ever taken, and she was sure her future happiness depended on his answer.
The silence lengthened. His continued scrutiny made her want to wriggle, but
somehow, she rather thought that was his intention.

"Well?" she said when she couldn't stand the
silence any more. "What do you say?"

Without haste and with deliberation in every movement,
Mac stood. He crooked his finger. "Come over here, Holly." The mastery
in his voice was absolute. Her clit did its let's-dance-and-party act, and her
skin stung with tiny shards of excitement.

She walked toward him.

"Kneel and, if you know what I mean, assume the
position."