Over the Line (24 page)

Authors: Sierra Cartwright

BOOK: Over the Line

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“If you want someone to scene with, I’ll take care of you.”

The voice froze her from the inside out. Since she heard it all day, every day, she recognised it instantly. Rich and deep, as controlled as it was reviled.

When her heart started to beat again, she swung to face her nemesis. She looked a long way up into his deep, dark blue, unfathomable eyes.

His jaw was set, and his arms were folded across his chest.

“Damn you.” She scowled. “Did you make him go away?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Isn’t it enough that you ruin every one of my days?”

“I’ve always wanted to have you over my lap for the good spanking you deserve.”

She blinked, for once shocked into silence by his words. Since they’d met, he’d been standoffish. Business was the only thing they’d ever discussed. And he’d harboured thoughts of having his hand on her ass?

“Maybe we should satisfy our mutual desires.”

“Not in this lifetime, David.”

“Tonight even,” he countered.

She laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as brittle as it felt. “Even for you, that’s an arrogant statement.”

“I spent the last few minutes watching your reflection in the glass, Margaret—”

“Maggie,” she corrected through gritted teeth.

“Not only do you have on a white wristband,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “but you lowered your gaze for that Dom.”

Her stomach executed a somersault. “Do you know how to mind your own business? Ever?”

“I pay attention to detail.”

“There’s an understatement.” During the first three weeks that he’d taken control of her family’s firm, he’d looked at every piece of paper, analysed every spreadsheet, sat down with every employee in private, insisted on meeting every vendor and reviewing all current customer files. At this point, it seemed he knew as much about World Wide Now as she did.

“For example, I know you’re flustered,” he continued.

“So you’re a psychic in addition to having superior business acumen?” If sarcasm were arsenic, he’d be dead.

“You’re thinking about lifting your skirt for me and lowering yourself over my lap. You’re wondering if I’ll hit you as hard as you need.”

“That’s insane,” she insisted, but now that he’d mentioned it, she couldn’t help picturing that very thing.

“You’re hoping I’ll let you keep your underwear on. And yes, you are wearing panties.”

She blinked, stunned. How the hell could he know that?

“If you were as calm as you’d like me to believe, you wouldn’t be stabbing the bottom of your glass with your straw.”

She froze, not realising she had been betraying her inner turmoil.

This David confounded her.

In typical fashion, his dark hair was brushed severely back from his broad forehead. His eyebrows were drawn together in an arrogant, masculine slash.

As she’d noticed earlier, he wore a pair of dark denim jeans, but she hadn’t seen the scuffed, black motorcycle boots.

Except for his trademark arrogance, he didn’t resemble the man she knew from work.

Normally he wore expensive power suits with crisp button-down shirts. The only concession to an occasional casual look was a loosened knot in his requisite red or blue tie.

She’d spent so much time being irritated by him that she’d never really noticed him as a man.

But now…

His shoulders were broad, and his waist trim. The black HM band emphasised the size of his arms. Clearly he had a gym membership, and he used it.

David’s jeans showed off the size of his thighs in a way dress slacks never could. Heaven help her, she couldn’t help but stare at the thick black belt encircling his waist. Add in the cuffs that refracted the overhead light… Her mouth watered.

“How about it, Maggie?”

She looked up at him. His use of Maggie rather than Margaret had been intentional, as if he knew exactly the effect it would have on her. She’d would never scene with a man who didn’t respect her wishes, and he was proving he would. “What happened to your no fraternising policy, Mr Tomlinson?”

Several more people entered the room, and the noise level increased. He took hold of her shoulders and moved her backwards. She didn’t protest. How could she with the way oxygen deprivation was suddenly making it impossible to think.

He released his grip, but he’d effectively trapped her in a corner, her back to the wall. The act seemed symbolic of their entire relationship. He was adept at manoeuvring her to suit his wishes.

Six months ago, when he’d decided to acquire World Wide Now for far less money than Maggie believed it was worth and she’d put up a fiery verbal protest, he’d taken her mother aside.

He’d stated that retaining Maggie was critical to the success of the business. Before the deal had been finalised, he’d called her into a private meeting and presented a deal he’d known she couldn’t refuse.

If the business met his lofty goals, meaning Maggie worked her ass off to bring in sales, her mother would be rewarded with half a million dollars at the end of two years. He hadn’t promised Maggie a penny, but agreeing to take care of her mother was the biggest incentive of all for Maggie.

Her mother, Gloria, had told Maggie she didn’t have to accept his terms. Another deal, perhaps a better one, would come along.

But once David had shown her the reality of World Wide Now’s fiscal picture due to her mother’s mismanagement, Maggie had seen no other options. She loved her mother and wanted her to have freedom from the financial struggles she’d always endured.

If he had simply waltzed in as lord and master, Maggie would have flipped him the bird on the way out of the door. But he was far too smart for that. Still, that didn’t mean she liked or appreciated his manipulation.

Once she’d nodded, he’d pulled out an employment contract. The bastard had prepared it ahead of time. She had signed her name with short, angry strokes. In corporate speak, she was shackled in golden handcuffs.

And that wasn’t much different than the metal pair dangling from his belt loop. Despite her resolve, she kept glancing at them.

He took the glass from her hand and gave it to a passing waiter.

She felt no fear as he leaned towards her, crowding her space. They breathed the same air, and his scent intoxicated her—power, spiced with raw masculine confidence.

“I think we can both agree this is an exemption. You wouldn’t be doing this to get ahead at work. I wouldn’t be forcing you to do it to keep your job. At work, we’ll have the same arrangement we have now,” he told her.

“Meaning you’ll set my schedule, tell me what to do, organise my life, prioritise my tasks and I’ll agree to it.”

“Much the same way as it’ll be tonight, yes.” His smile was predatory.

She shuddered then regretted she’d allowed him the glimpse of her vulnerability. “I have no intention of sceneing with you,” she said.

“The choice is always yours. Do you know the club’s safe word?” he asked her.

She blinked. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“Do you know the safe word?” he repeated.

“Of course.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

She felt as if she was involved in a game whose rules she didn’t understand. “Halt.”

“If you want me to walk away, say it.”

Awareness of him simmered in her, its effects causing a slow heating of her blood. One word would end their discussion. That’s what she should want. So why was she still here, feeling tempted? “You don’t play fair.”

“I like to win,” he agreed.

His plainly stated words took away any further argument.

“You and I both know that in any D/s relationship, the sub has the real power. You get to set the rules and the pace. If I don’t agree to your terms, we have no deal.” He paused. “In a way, the tables are turned. It seems to me you should relish that after six months.”

“It won’t be your butt that’s being blistered.”

“Or legs,” he added. “Or shoulders. Or breasts.” He leaned in, a fraction of an inch closer.

It stunned her how threatened, how aware she suddenly felt. He’d barely moved, but she was snared.

“Or pussy,” he said finally.

She pressed herself harder against the wall, needing its support. “I’m not saying I would ever agree to this insane suggestion…”

“Go on.”

“If I did, we wouldn’t talk about it at work.”

“What happens here, stays here. It will change nothing about our dynamic at the office, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of anything, David,” she said, her words infused with bravado she was sure he could see through.

Maggie reminded herself she didn’t like him. But damn, there was something about his commanding manner that intrigued her. Every day, she watched him in action. When he wanted something, he pursued it with single-minded determination. A very feminine part of her wondered what it would feel like to be the focus of that attention.

“Do you have your own safe word that you prefer?”

“Halt is fine.”

“How about a word to slow things down?”

“Eclipse.”

He tilted his head to the side.

“I’m more likely to say accelerate,” she told him.

“I wouldn’t have figured you for an extreme player.”

“You think you’re a sage, Mr Tomlinson,” she said. “But you’ve misread a few things about me.”

“I’ll give you that. From the way you behave at the office, I would have taken you for a Domme.”

“It might be fun to strap you to a St. Andrew’s cross,” she said, raising one of her waxed eyebrows.

He laughed.

She blinked. During the time she’d known him, she had never heard him laugh. She’d rarely even seen him smile. Was it possible she’d judged him too harshly? Then she recalled the way he’d even provided the ballpoint pen for her to sign the hated employment agreement. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

“Not a chance in hell,” he affirmed. “The only one feeling a lash will be you.”

Before she could respond, he continued, “I assure you I will be even more observant about you,” he said.

He captured her chin and tipped her head back.

“I want to know what quickens your pulse. I’ll find out what dampens your panties. I want to know all of your erotic sounds and what each means.”

She wished she had met him here, that she’d seen him as a hot man, felt the connection and agreed to scene. But she couldn’t pretend their relationship wasn’t already laden with hostility and distrust.

“For tonight,” he reminded her. “Just tonight. Say yes, Maggie mine.”

If she was smart, she’d tell him no. She shouldn’t want this, him. But every nerve ending zinged with awareness. Desire won the battle over common sense. Slowly, she nodded. “Yes.”

Desire seemed to flare in his eye, widening them. “Good,” he said.

He released her and stepped back.

She was grateful for physical space. This close, she was aware of how male he was, sexy and sensual and threatening.

“Any hard limits?” he asked.

This part of a negotiation was familiar, and she relaxed into it. She was good at asking for what she wanted. “No blood, edge play, permanent marks.”

“How about formal protocols?”

She’d had enough experience to know that Doms differed on what that meant. But in this setting, since they weren’t a couple, she doubted he would ask for anything she’d find objectionable. “If it suits you, I’m okay with.”

“We’ll observe some, but I don’t require strict adherence. I want you to communicate.”

She nodded.

“What are your limits around humiliation?”

“As long as I’m not left alone for long periods, I’m fine.”

“I won’t leave you alone, ever. If you’re suffering for me, I want to watch and enjoy every moment of it.”

There was something about the husk in his voice, part promise, part threat, that made her tremble. She looked at him. The set of his jaw emphasised the seriousness of his words.

Maggie would have never suspected she’d willingly experience anguish for David Tomlinson, even offer herself to him, but in this moment, there was nothing she wanted more.

“And suffer you will, Maggie,” he promised.

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About the Author

Born in northern England and raised in the Wild West, Sierra Cartwright pens books that are as untamed as the Rockies she calls home.

She’s an award-winning, multi-published writer who wrote her first book at age nine and hasn’t stopped since.

Sierra invites you to share the complex journey of love and desire, of surrender and commitment. Her own journey has taught her that trusting takes guts and courage, and her work is a celebration for everyone who is willing to take that risk.