Wanting Wilder (10 page)

Present day

She held on to the image of him thrusting into her and the feel of his fingers digging into her thighs. Orgasm washed over her, weakening her knees so that she had to lean against the cold tiles of the shower wall. He hadn’t ended the scene after he came. He hadn’t ended it until much, much later. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her back then. He had behaved as if she meant something to him.

Cooling water slid over her skin, pulling her back from that bittersweet memory. Perhaps she’d just wanted to believe it was more than a spring break fling.

Later, as she prepared for the cocktail party, she lingered over her toilette far longer than usual. She chose a bra that pushed her breasts up and a dress with a neckline that would feature delicate glimpses of those swells. The design wrapped around her body, hugging her curves and plunging almost indecently between her breasts. Her hair fell past her shoulders to brush against her bare skin every time she moved her head.

She liked how the wrap at the hem created a V that showed a little more of her left leg than her right. The last time she’d worn this dress, she’d come home with a slew of phone numbers. If Wilder didn’t respond to this, then she’d have to seriously reconsider whether he was a human, heterosexual male.

A dab of gloss brought a sensual shine to her lips. She made a kissing noise at the mirror and heaved a sigh. In a little less than half an hour, she would begin meeting all her colleagues, and her office wasn’t unpacked. The lack of preparedness bothered her a lot.

Wilder waited in the living room, his attention glued to Tony Dungy’s analysis of the Chargers’ defense.

“We can stay home and watch the game, Sir.”

He glanced over, doing a double take that revealed maybe more than he intended. The ice in his eyes burned hot and bright. He shifted, no doubt adjusting to accommodate the sudden swell in his dress pants. But his compliment lacked the same heat. “You look nice, Pet. We need to get going.”

Clutching the matching purse tightly in her fists, she nodded. “Who will be there?”

He pressed a button on the remote, and the sound of male voices ceased. He grabbed his keys and guided her to the door, his fingertips lightly grazing the small of her back. “Everyone who works at Oasis headquarters.”

She wanted to ask who was included in that description, but she had a more urgent concern. The elevator doors closed. “Sir, I’d like to ask that we drop protocol at public events like this.”

From the hard set of his jaw, she deduced her request bothered him. “Request denied.”

Her jaw dropped. She hadn’t expected a refusal. It took her a few minutes to gather her courage. Arguing with a Dominant had never been her strong suit. The dynamic tended to steal her ability to advocate for herself, which was another reason she had decided to avoid this kind of relationship.

She’d shared her tendency to become tongue-tied with Master V, and he’d laughed at her over the Internet. He’d told her that would cease to become a problem when she got to know a Master well enough to be comfortable around him. While she didn’t recall having this problem with Wilder before, she definitely had it now.

Once they were on the two-lane road that wound down the mountain and led to Oasis, she gathered the remnants of her will. “Sir, I don’t want to meet my colleagues for the first time as a submissive.”

He glanced over. Dusk had settled, and the headlights of oncoming traffic glittered from the danger in his eyes. “You’re always a submissive. You aren’t the only one. The vast majority of Oasis employees are either Dominant or submissive. The rest switch. You would actually stand out if we dropped protocol.”

The news raised her anxiety level further. As an executive, she was entering the company at a fairly high level. Calling a subordinate by a Dominant title would negate her authority. “You mean to tell me that I’ll be expected to address the people I work with as Master or Mistress if they’re Doms?”

“At a play party, yes, you would be expected to do that. At a function like this, we stick to first names unless you have a specific relationship with someone. For example, you will continue to address me as Sir, but you can call my brother by his first name.”

She swallowed a few choice oaths. In meeting her colleagues, she would encounter his family because they owned the company. Why did she have to get stuck with a member of the ruling family as her welcome committee?

“I don’t like this, Sir.” She emphasized his title in a completely disrespectful way, growling it from between clenched teeth.

He stopped the Jeep, parking in a spot that had his name emblazoned on a little plaque. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned toward her. The bright fluorescent glow of a nearby street lamp illuminated his glare. “Pet, do not make the mistake of thinking I won’t punish you for being disrespectful. I understand that you’re nervous. You must trust that I’ll be by your side the entire night.”

The idea of having him at her elbow for the next two hours made her more nervous than the idea of going in there alone. “Fine. But you have to wait until we arrive back at home.”

Punishing her in public would violate one of her soft limits. She meant to remind him, but she could tell by the way his lips pressed together that her tone hadn’t been appropriate. “That’s two, Pet. If you make it to five, I will bend you over and spank your bare ass in front of everyone. As things stand, you can expect to be very sore in the morning.”

His threat, uttered in a tone so gentle that the caress brought her nipples to sharp peaks, made her panties wet. She licked her lips, tasting the peach flavor of her gloss. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

He followed her tongue’s path with his gaze. “When we’re in there, I expect you to stay by my side unless I tell you otherwise. I will introduce you to everyone during the course of the evening. Do you have any questions before we head inside?”

Lydia shook her head. He opened her door and helped her out, then tucked her arm under his. Part of her melted in relief at his refusal to forgo protocol. It removed the pressure of having to introduce herself to all those people while she tried to memorize names. But the part of her that scoffed at the need to have a Dom in her life rebelled at the loss of control. She could do this on her own. She didn’t need to rely on anyone but herself. Relying on others only led to heartbreak.

The lobby had been transformed since the morning before. The vast space held dozens of people, all milling around and standing in small groups. Murmurs of conversation mixed with the muted strains of a string quartet. Lydia could see them above the crowd. They sat on a dais clear across the room, dressed in matching pale blue tuxedos. The outfits could have been a joke, but they pulled off the look with dignity and aplomb.

A fountain bubbled in the center of the room, and an elegant spread bisected the large space. Servers circulated through the crowd with silver trays bearing drinks and finger foods.

She flexed her fingers, squeezing Sir’s arm for the reassuring comfort of his solid presence. His warm hand closed over hers, lending additional strength. He gave a quick press and let go, but it was enough.

“Wilder, darling, it’s wonderful to see you.”

Smooth, cultured tones tore her focus from the residual tingle of his touch. Lydia lifted her gaze to find a stunning blonde with sparkling blue eyes gliding toward them. Her cotton-candy pink lipstick didn’t detract one bit from her loveliness. If the woman hadn’t been old enough to be Wilder’s mother, Lydia might have felt the stirrings of jealousy.

“Mom, you saw me yesterday.” He dipped his head to kiss the cheek she offered.

Lydia congratulated herself on her instincts, but that feeling of pride dimmed as she remembered her position. Wilder’s mother was her boss. How did she feel about the woman on her son’s arm? How much did she know about the particulars of the nonwish that had created this situation?

“I know, dear, but something about seeing you dressed like this makes me feel so proud. My baby boy in a tuxedo. You swore you’d never wear one, you know, and now you look so much like your father. If he could see you now, he’d get a tear in his eye and blame it on the weather.” Raw pain flashed across her face.

If ever there was a time to step away and give two people a private moment, it was now. She released Wilder’s arm as he reached for his mother. He hugged her tight.

She allowed it for a moment before pushing him away. “Introduce me to your submissive.”

A place deep inside Lydia shriveled up, and her blood fled her extremities, leaving her a little weak-kneed. Her parents didn’t know a thing about her kinky side, yet Wilder’s mother didn’t bat an eyelash. Given the nature of the family business, she should have expected Mrs. Burke’s calm acceptance, but she hadn’t.

“Mom, this is Lydia O’Neill. Pet, this is my mother, Macy Burke. Say hello.”

Lydia straightened her spine and forced a smile, hoping to hell she didn’t look as stupid as she felt. Her previous Masters had never introduced her to their families. She had no point of reference for this event. “Hello, Mrs. Burke. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Mrs. Burke laughed and cupped Lydia’s face in her hands. “You are just as beautiful and proud as your picture indicated. I can see my Wilder is going to have his hands full with you. Don’t be so nervous, and call me Macy.”

“Thank you, Macy. I’ll try.” She ignored the part about Wilder having his hands full. Having his mother comment openly didn’t exactly put her at ease.

Macy snagged a flute of champagne from a passing tray and handed it over. “This might help you loosen up. You’ll find everyone at Oasis open and honest, Lydia. I’m hoping you’ll fit right in with this wonderful crew.”

Lydia accepted the glass and sipped the cool liquid. It slid down her throat smoothly. “Thank you.”

WILDER WATCHED THE polite interchange with mixed emotions. He normally went out of his way to avoid introducing women he liked to his mother. When the board had planned the welcome party last month, he hadn’t thought anything about bringing a submissive woman to a company cocktail party. After all, he hadn’t planned to do anything more than top her, and he hadn’t seen her file, which meant she had been a nameless, faceless submissive. While he usually liked the women he topped, he had never felt the need to push for more than friendship.

He had expected his mother to gush. His mother liked people, and she considered herself the unofficial welcoming committee for submissives new to Oasis. He’d watched her take women under her wing for years. Each had that scared, anxious look about them, but by the time Macy Burke had finished with them, they’d been formidable submissives, comfortable with themselves and their desires.

When he first met Lydia, she hadn’t been uncomfortable with her submissive side. Sure, she had wanted to suspend the dynamic of their association tonight. She wasn’t used to the open acceptance at Oasis. He had thought she would loosen up quickly, but that didn’t seem to be the case. What had happened in the last eight years to change her?

He lifted his hand and rested his fingertips against the small of her back to remind her that he was there. Perhaps she would find the gesture reassuring, but he did it because he couldn’t keep himself from physical contact. His mother lifted one carefully sculpted eyebrow at him, but she didn’t comment. For that, he was grateful. She might be a submissive, but his mother had only ever played that role to his father.

Pulling his thoughts away from the melancholy—it was impossible to stand in the lobby of the impressive Oasis headquarters and not think of his father, the visionary who had played a large part in developing it—Wilder focused on his pet.

The circle around them grew, as he knew it would. He stayed close, making introductions and using his position to warn off any Doms on the prowl. They fawned over her, each of them enthralled by the new wish coordinator, especially the Doms who knew Wilder never trained a pet for long.

Micah O’Connor inched closer. They’d been good friends since second grade, when Wilder had insulted Micah’s taste in football teams, and the two had engaged in a physical altercation that earned them both their first and only suspensions from school.

With a shock of black hair that made his brown eyes look even darker and an olive complexion that wasn’t much lighter than Lydia’s, the two of them would make a cute couple. Being the same height as Wilder, Micah towered over her by a good six inches.

Micah glanced at the front of Lydia’s dress as he waited to be introduced. Wilder knew damn well what his friend saw. Her perky breasts were encased in one of those bras that lifted and squished tits together to make the most spectacular show of cleavage. When Lydia had first come out of the bedroom, he’d been struck speechless and rendered immobile. It turned out to be a good thing, because if he’d been able to move, he would have buried his face between her breasts and never come up for air.

He shook his head at Micah, a warning indicating he wouldn’t tolerate him taking any liberties. Though Micah had been with him that weekend he’d first met Lydia, his buddy had found a woman of his own. The two of them had effectively parted ways until the emergency call about his father’s heart attack had forced Wilder to find Micah and head home.

Micah shot him a devious grin and grabbed both of Lydia’s hands.

“Welcome to Oasis, Lydia. I hope you found the travel and living arrangements satisfactory. I look forward to working closely with you.” He leaned in and kissed each of her cheeks.

She smiled, the polite kind, and she glanced at Wilder, waiting for permission to speak. He knew the formality grated on her nerves, but he perversely refused to lift the gag order. And he pictured her bound to his bed, strict restraints making sure she couldn’t move a muscle without his help, a ball gag stifling her loud moans as he tasted the juices of her sweet pussy.

“Pet, you’ve already met Micah O’Connor, one of my oldest friends. Micah, if you don’t get your fucking hands off my pet, I’ll rip them off and nail them to your ass.”