The Dom's Dungeon (23 page)

“Of
course.”

“My name
is Brent Goodwin. I have a check for the days she worked last month. I need to
know if she wants me to mail it there or hold on to it for her.” Brent
hesitated. “Do you know if she's planning to return to Oak Hollow?”

How much
snooping could be justified under the Dom/sub relationship?
Definitely more
. Alex leaned back in the
chair, his eyes on the ceiling. How to finesse some information from an
innocent vet? “I got the impression that she felt relieved to be able to
leave…after Jim's death,” he said delicately. Dammit, was Jim a lover or just
a—

Brent
sighed. “Yeah, she was pretty happy to get out of here. Poor girl. She spent
half a year buried in that house taking care of the old guy as he withered away
to nothing. Anyway, I figure she might need this check, so if—”

“She does
seem oddly short of cash for a vet,” Alex interrupted. “Did she run up a
gambling debt or something?” He grinned at the sputter of outrage on the other
end of the line. People from small towns weren't nearly suspicious enough.

“
MacKensie
stepped in to help Jim with his medical bills.
And then near the end, he couldn't be left alone, so Mac hired someone to stay
with him when she needed to get groceries or pick up prescriptions. We would
have helped, but if you know her, you know how much pride she has. And she sure
wouldn't take a cent from anyone in Oak Hollow.”

Why not, dammit?
Alex didn't ask the question.
He got the feeling Brent wouldn't share that information. “Well, that's good to
know,” he said simply. “I'm relieved my high opinion of her is justified.”

“Damn
straight. She's a fine woman, no matter—” Brent huffed a breath. “I've got to
go. Tell her to call me, please.” He hung up.

Now that
was an interesting conversation. Alex put his feet up on a bare corner of the
desk, turning the phone over and over in his hands. Brent considered the little
cat generous and loyal. No new information there. And her friend Jim had been
old. Alex could feel the tension in his gut ease. She wasn't mourning an old
lover, but probably a father substitute.

However, Brent
wasn't old, and he wanted her back.

MacKensie
didn't
want to return. Whatever had happened to her in the past had happened in Oak
Hollow. And everyone there knew about it. And had judged her.

Dammit
,
little cat
. How could he help if he didn't know what had happened?

* * * * *

Mac folded
her hands in her lap and prepared to be brilliant, charming, and dedicated.
Again. If this interview stuff continued much longer, she'd take a nice dive
off the horrendously high Aurora Bridge.

Across the
desk, Susan Weston grinned. “Don't look like that. We've met before, remember?”

Mac's lips
curved. Susan was as high energy, charming, and blunt here at the Weston Animal
Hospital as she had been at the ball. “I didn't want to presume upon that
introduction,” Mac confessed. “Alex is very kind, but—”

Susan
snorted. “Alexander Fontaine can be kind, but he's also a hard-nosed
businessman and utterly ruthless when it comes to protecting animals. The fact
he introduced you as a vet means he checked your background and found you more
than competent. Otherwise he'd never have mentioned your occupation.”

Mac
blinked in surprise. Well, yes, she knew Alex had called her references before
letting her stay with Butler, but the fact that he might not have introduced
her if he didn't consider her competent, and people knew that… Perhaps she
didn't know him that well after all.

“You've
never seen him in action, have you?” Susan huffed and amended quickly, “I mean,
action related to animals. He's actually put two or three vets out of business.”

“Really.”
Well,
God knew she'd seen his temper.

“Oh yeah.”
Sandy
smiled. “And seeing you with Butler didn't do you any harm. That dog doesn't
fawn over many people. After meeting you, my partners and I kept an eye on you
that night. Animals like you.” She spread papers out over the desk. “We, of
course, checked your credentials and references. We took a vote this morning,
and we'd like you to come to work here.”

Mac's
breath stopped.

“If things
work out, then we'll talk about buying in and all that.” Susan rose and held
out her hand. “Are you interested?”

Do not scream. Do not do happy dance until get home
. “I
researched you too, and you're at the top of my list.” Mac stood and shook
Susan's hand firmly. “I accept.”

“Uh, I
don't know… I'm tired and…” Mac's heart rate increased when Alex pushed the
dungeon door open and the scent of leather drifted out. The lights in the
sconces flickered over the St. Andrew's cross, the benches, the wall of whips
and floggers. All that equipment gave an entirely different impression when you
had a Dom beside you than when you were just exploring. She shivered as she
realized he could and would use all the equipment in here.

Her
excuses only caused his grip on her wrist to tighten as he pulled her into the
room.

Damn. She
should have been warned yesterday when he'd looked up at her and said, “
You realize dragging your Dom off to have
sex isn't the usual behavior of a submissive, even when celebrating
.”

It had
been a fine, fine celebration. She shivered a little just remembering how she'd
straddled him and ridden him like a cowgirl. Yeah, she might have gotten away
with jumping him and being so demanding. He'd enjoyed himself as well, after
all.

But then
when he'd told her they would attend his mother's supper party, she'd refused.
Flat-out refused. And oh boy, apparently he'd make her pay for it today.

Did she
really want to let him do this domination stuff? At just the thought, her
insides started to melt like ice cream in the sun.
Frak
,
she was so screwed.

He put her
in the center of the room and gave her a look from determined blue eyes. Dom
eyes. “Don't move.”

Her breath
quickened.

From the
cupboard, he removed several things and put them into his pockets. He picked up
a set of wrist cuffs, then returned to stand in front of her. “Strip.”

All those
men she'd undressed for and never felt a thing, but with this man—just that
tone of voice made her nipples tighten to aching points. She pulled her T-shirt
off, threw her bra on top of it, and wiggled out of her jeans and panties.

When she
stood naked before him, he nodded approval, then walked around her slowly.
Inspecting her. Rather than try to hide, she raised her chest and her chin. And
wished he'd touch her.

“You're a
beautiful woman, little sub,” he said quietly. His words created a warmth
inside her and increased her desire to be touched. He stopped behind her,
buckled on the wrist cuffs, and clipped them behind her back before turning her
to face him. The feeling of helplessness made her wet, an effect she still
couldn't understand, but it didn't seem to matter. Not when he looked at her
like this, a faint smile on his lean face.

“Hold
still,” he warned before he bent and took one nipple in his mouth. Hot and wet.

She jolted
backward, earning herself a brisk slap on the side of her thigh. And the sting
sent little claws into her clit. Biting her lip, she planted her feet and kept
motionless.

His lips
demanding, he sucked on her nipple until it peaked, long and taut. From his
pocket came a breast clamp: tiny sparkling jewels and bells on a chain below
the
tweezerlike
prongs.

Her mouth
dropped open. He hadn't used those since the club.

He
fastened the clamp over her nipple, sliding the little ring upward until she
tried to retreat from the pain. He left it there for a heartbeat and then
loosened it. The pain changed to a pinch that throbbed with every beat of her
heart. When he did the other, she realized the biting ache made her aware of
her breasts…constantly.

He stepped
back, his gaze on her face, and he smiled. “Spread your legs,” he said softly.

She bit
her lip. She knew he wouldn't really, really hurt her, but with her hands
cuffed behind her back, it seemed…

“Now.”

Her feet
moved apart. He gave a nod and then touched her down there. The sensation of his
hand against her bare pussy still startled her. His fingers slid very, very
easily across her folds, showing she was very, very wet. His eyes held
amusement. “I thought you'd enjoy having clamps again.”

“Alex,”
she whispered, not having any idea of what she wanted to say. His expression
didn't change, yet she could feel his disapproval, and she hastily said, “Sir.
May—”

He held up
his hand, and she bit back her words. He shook his head. “You do not have
permission to speak. In fact…” From his pocket, he pulled out a leather gag.

“Wait.”

“Open.” He
put the thick strip of leather into her mouth and tied it behind her head. “If
you need to stop, you may either yell or scream. Three times in a row is your
safe word, or you can squeeze this.” He tucked one of Butler's squeaky toys
into her cuffed hands.

She felt
so strange. Not able to talk. Hands behind her back. Legs apart. Breasts
aching. Helpless and scared and excited.

His hand
cupped her cheek, and he moved up against her, his body warm and strong. “Do
you trust me, little sub?” he asked softly.

Did she?
Yes
. She nodded, and the tightness
compressing her lungs eased when his eyes crinkled. “Good girl.”

Her gaze
caught on the whips and floggers on the far wall. Oh God, how far did he plan
to go?

He turned,
following her gaze, and huffed a laugh. “You're not ready for any of those,
little cat.”

Thank
heavens. Would he really want to use something like that on her? The fear
inside her at the thought mingled with a funny excitement. She met his gaze and
saw how he watched her with a faint smile.

“Yes,
MacKensie
, you'll get a chance to see how they feel
someday. But this is not the day.” He unclipped her wrists and pulled her over
to a square platform about three feet high. “Crawl on,” he said quietly.

Her heart
picked up as she did. The top was covered with brown leather, smooth and cool
under her hands and knees as she assumed a doggy position.

He bent
down to look her in the eyes. “
MacKensie
, I am going
to restrain you now. Do you trust me to keep you safe?” His eyes were steady as
his hand stroked her hair.

She wanted
to give him what he wanted, wanted to please him. Could she endure this? Be
brave for him? She closed her eyes. How far would she go for this man? After a
second, she sighed and nodded.

“That's my
girl,” he murmured. “Stay on your hands and knees.”

As he
buckled on cuffs just below her knees, his fingers kept brushing against her
pussy, and the tiny touches kept her constantly aroused. He attached the cuffs
to ropes on the table corners and pulled her legs farther apart. Her one
attempt to rise was prevented by a stern hand in the middle of her back. Cool
air drifted past her inner thighs, touched her wet labia lightly. God, what was
she doing with her butt exposed like this?

But
somehow the feeling of the cool air on her pussy changed her focus. She
couldn't move, couldn't struggle, couldn't even complain or tell him what to
do, and slowly her surroundings faded until all she could think about or feel
was that open area between her legs.

He
squeezed her bottom, and she gasped as his fingers traced down her inner legs
to where she had started to throb. The flat of his hand pressed against her
pussy, then touched her hip, leaving wetness behind. His way of keeping his
promise to only proceed if she was aroused. As if he did anything these days
that didn't arouse her.

And being
restrained had excited her—really excited her, she realized, as his fingers
slicked up and down her folds, as he spread her moisture over her clit. On
hands and knees, her butt in the air, her pussy was open and exposed.

Very
exposed.
She
jerked when he slid a finger into her.
Oh
God.

“Give me
your left wrist,” he said, one warm hand splayed on her ass cheek.

More?
He wanted to do more restraints? Suppressing a
whimper, she put her weight on her other arm and held her left arm back to him.

“Good
girl.” He hooked the wrist cuff to her knee cuff on that side, leaving her
balancing awkwardly on her knees and only one arm. After moving in front of
her, he knelt to where he could meet her eyes. “Anything too tight? Tingling?
Numbness?”

She shook
her head, losing herself in the blueness of his gaze.

“All
right, then.” He gripped her shoulders. “I'm putting you into a position where
your head rests just over the edge of the table.” He patted a leather pad there
that she hadn't noticed. “Lay your cheek or forehead on this. Now relax and let
me lower you down.”