Lyon on a Leash (16 page)

“I’ve got something special to welcome you here.”

His gaze followed her across the room. It didn’t take long before she was in front of him again. With a naughty grin, she blindfolded him. “Safe word?”

“Red,” he said, not because he’d ever used one but because she refused to play with him unless he had one he took seriously. The absence of sight heightened his desire. The sound of drawers opening, her footsteps across the floor, and a burst of cold air against his skin all added tension to the play session.

He yelled as the icy sensation of numerous ice cubes caused him to jump. Secured as he was, there was no place he could hide from her torment.

“You got a little hot upstairs a little while ago. I’m just cooling you off.” The icy chips ran in a relentless waterfall down his belly and parts of his back. His cock was the first casualty beneath the assault. It softened as the chilly dribbles ran down its length.

Head bent, he gasped for air as the last of the ice slid down his thigh. The warmth of her mouth hovered above his sensitive nipples. Without thought, he pressed his chest forward, trying to find the heated cavern of her mouth.

When she latched on, it was with her teeth. He jerked at the alternate sensations of sucking and biting. His nerve endings were on overload. By the time she stepped back and scraped the buds with her nails, he was babbling. A moment later she placed clamps on his nipples and his back bowed at the sensation. She kissed his chest, the flat of her tongue taking long swipes across the expanse of his stomach.

His legs shook as she moved lower.

“You’re dripping all over my floor.”

“I promise to clean it up.” He would’ve agreed to do anything to keep her from stopping. “Aw,” he said bowing over as far as he could while she squeezed his balls together.

“I appreciate that. It’s important for this room to stay clean.” She released his balls. A moment later, a warm, gooey like substance ran down his chest. The initial contact was hot, not hot enough to burn, closer to shower temperature. But it warmed and felt good on his skin.

“Umm, wax?”

“Yeah. It’s pink and it looks good on your chest and cock.”

“P-pink?” he stuttered.

Her fingers did something, and he felt the chill from the ice cube in the middle of the warm wax. It was an unusual sensation.

“Yeah. Pink.” She found other spots to place the ice chips, creating pockets within the wax to hold the ice in place. “Good?”

“Yes, Mistress.” His skin was on fire. Not from the wax, which was soothing, but from the burn of the ice.

“I’m going upstairs to finish unpacking. I’ll be back before all the ice melts.” She patted his leaking cock and left. “By the way Marcus, I understand your need to care and protect me. But never threaten to leave me again. I don’t like it.”

“I’m surprised you chose an Alpha submissive.” Marguerite’s voice sounded coy as she looked at Vera from the corner of her eye.

More curious about her behavior than the off-the-wall comment, Vera asked carefully. “What type of sub did you think I’d choose for a primary relationship?”

Marguerite shrugged. “Someone more malleable. He’s strong.”

“Strong, as in…?” she asked, confused. Marcus was a big teddy bear who gave her no trouble. She thought of his response to Brinks and amended that thought. Very little trouble. There was no doubt in her mind he meant what he said, and might have left if they couldn’t come to an agreement he could live with.

“It’s obvious he’s physically strong. What I meant was….” She paused. Lips puckered, with one eye shut, her brow wrinkled as she searched for the right word. “He has a strong personality.”

“Like a code of ethics?” Vera asked. She hadn’t shared the more recent problems she was having at the office with Marguerite. She knew the woman’s reaction would mirror Marcus’.

“Yes, and more.” She’d paused for a moment. “But I don’t think he’ll ever betray you, or walk away without a good reason. He’s perfect for your inexperience and trust issues.”

Stung over the inexperience comment, she let the rest of Marguerite’s statement pass. She was beginning to trust Marcus more and more. He took their living arrangement in stride, even though it was more work for him to get up early to take care of her in the mornings and be prepared to meet her in the evenings, yet he never complained.

“I enjoy him.” That was putting it mildly. Marcus would do anything she asked

As much as she enjoyed playing with paddles, whips, and canes, her biggest turn-on was his submission. There was something inherently sexy and empowering when a man purred beneath your hand as you stroked his hair.

“I can tell,” her mentor said, smiling. “You look happy, rested. Has Brinks met Marcus?”

She knows, but how
? She shouldn’t have been surprised. Marguerite had connections from the White House to the dog house. She’d been around a long time. A lot of men, powerful men, had come through her doors. Very few people messed with Marguerite, a.k.a. Mistress Kay, and got away with it.

It didn’t take much prodding to tell the older woman everything. Marguerite exploded over Brinks’ harassment, just as Vera had known she would. But she calmed when Vera told her about Marcus’ reaction.

“He won’t change. If you can’t handle a man looking after you in every way, let this one go. He’ll snap Brinks in half and not think twice.”

“Good morning, Vera,” Amy, her assistant said, handing her a cup of tea, effectively bringing her back to the moment.

Shaking off the lingering conversation with Marguerite, she accepted the cup. “Morning, Amy.” She took a sip of the aromatic brew and pushed down a grimace. Marcus’ was much better. As she thought of him, her lips curved.

“I know I have a briefing at ten. What’s the rest of the day look like?” Vera asked, walking into her office.

“The ten o’clock has been changed to one this afternoon. There’s a mandatory meeting in the executive office instead.”

Vera groaned, her mood souring. “What now?”

Amy smiled in sympathy. “I don’t know. The rumor mill is wide open. A junior partner announcement, the old man is retiring, more benefits—”

Vera’s head snapped up. “What?”

Amy smirked. “That last one was me, wishing and hoping.”

Vera relaxed. “Oh, okay.” That morning, she’d given Marcus a set of keys to the house so he could grocery shop and finish some other errands. Plus, he was coming to take her to lunch today. She wanted Brinks to see, or at least get the word, she was off the market. “How long will the meeting last? I have a lunch date.”

Amy frowned. “You do?”

“Yes, write it down. I have a lunch date.” She waved toward Amy’s computer. Amy stared at her for a moment and then smiled. “Oh…got it. Lunch date, noon. With?”

“My date.” She shooed Amy out the office and continued reviewing the files on her desk. Most of her cases were copyright infringements, but every once and a while something exciting crossed her desk.

A knock pulled her attention from her files. She looked up and groaned. Brinks. He opened the door and stuck his head in.

“Hi, got a moment?” he asked as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

“Not really.”

He ignored her and sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Crossing his legs, he straightened the cuff of his pants. Without looking directly at him, she tracked his every movement.

“I just got back from out of town. We haven’t talked since you left for vacation. How was New York? Did you have a good time? Take in any plays?”

Nodding, she glanced at him and then placed the file on her desk. He was an irritating bore, but he was her boss. “I saw
The
Lion King
. The shopping was great. All in all, I had a great time. Thanks for asking.”

He nodded as he pulled some imaginary lint from his jacket. “You meet anyone? Anyone special?”

“Not your business.”

His jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, before he released it. “Just asking. No harm in that, right?”

She shrugged and didn’t answer.

“Why do you give me such a hard time?” He surprised her by asking. “I mean, you know I want to spend more time with you. I’d spoil you, but you keep shooting me down, you won’t even share a drink with me after work. Why?”

Is he serious
? “You’re married, Brinks. I may not care for Susan, but I respect the position she holds in your life. I don’t run that way.”

“If I weren’t married? Could you honestly say you’d go out with me then?” His dark green gaze held her hostage.

She wished she could lie to him. “No. I’m not attracted to you.”

He snorted. “So you use my marriage as a smoke screen? That’s low.”

She bristled. “No. That’s me trying to be polite.”

“Polite? Is that what you call telling me you’re not attracted to me? To me?” He slapped his chest. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a fine, light-cream brother; he was. No doubt the charcoal grey suit he wore with the pearly pink shirt cost more than most people made in a month. The smell of his cologne was subtle but divine. His wavy hair was always on point. His green eyes were expressive and she supposed, in his own way, he was sincere.

But he was selfish and immature, two things her father had cornered the market on. She’d never deal with a man who thought only of himself. For a short period in her life, she’d had no choice. Now she did. That made strikes two and three for Brinks.

Not wanting to prolong the conversation, she remained silent and returned his stare. After a few minutes he stood, straightened his jacket, and looked at her. “I’m a good man, Vera. I made some mistakes, I admit that. But don’t I deserve to be happy?” He walked out the door.

She rolled her eyes and picked up her report. “Be happy with your wife, asshole,” she murmured.

Dressed in a pair of black slacks and a short-sleeved gray striped polo shirt, Marcus waited in the lobby for directions to the correct elevator to reach his Mistress’ floor. She wanted him in her office at ten minutes after twelve. He had ten minutes.

“That way, sir. Those elevators go to the higher floors,” the security guard said, pointing left.

“Thanks.” Marcus headed in that direction and waited for the next elevator. Looking around the pristine lobby area, he wondered what he’d say when she asked him about her manuscript. He’d read both books twice and still didn’t have a handle on what the storylines were in either book. The hero and heroine were all over the place.

Marcus wasn’t sure if the villain was the villain or the hero in disguise. The heroine couldn’t decide which man was best for her and came across as silly. That was unsexy as hell. When the heroine was captured, he felt she deserved it. Why would she take a pistol to confront men who killed people—and not know how to use the damned thing?
Stupid
. Although these stories were supposed to be dramatic criminal stories, they were so unrealistic they came across as bad comedy. One word summed up both stories: awful. And that was a problem. They were his Mistress’ babies. He’d promised to never lie and he wouldn’t, but he’d wait until she asked for his opinion. He could only pray it wouldn’t be any time soon.

An older woman dressed in a sleeveless, peach-colored dress with pearl accessories approached, nodded, and smiled. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he responded, wondering what was behind her thoughtful expression. The crow’s feet on her otherwise unlined face spoke of a woman who took great strides to win the race against time. The platinum-blond bob was the perfect length and complemented her oval face. Her light blue eyes appeared to have seen and been disappointed by much. The shadows in her eyes prevented the smile she sent him from being genuine. Whoever this woman was, she was not happy.

The elevator opened. He waited for her to enter and then followed. He pushed the button for the correct floor and stepped back.

“You know someone at the law firm?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She waited a beat. “Who?”

Why do you care?
He looked at her puzzled expression. “Vera Knight.” His voice held a note of pride.

“Vera Knight? The black attorney?” Her voice held a hint of distaste.

“Yes. She’s my lady,” he said in a hard tone.

Her eyes widened. “Really? I mean…oh. That’s fine.” Her back snapped straight and she looked straight ahead. “Actually, that’s good. Maybe now she’ll stop running after my son-in-law,” the woman said under her breath.

Her comment surprised him. “My lady runs after no man. She doesn’t have to. If anything, he’s running after her.”

The woman reddened.

He didn’t give a damn.

“Are you implying he’d cheat on my daughter?”

“I don’t know him, you, or your daughter. I know Vera. She’s not interested in him, and she’s not running after anybody.”

She drew herself up, her nose lifted in the air. “Well, I see she has a staunch advocate in you.”

He sobered. “Yes. Yes she does. As I said, she’s my lady, and I take her position in my life very seriously.”