Wanting Wilder (11 page)

A hand clamped on his shoulder, and his brother’s voice sounded in his ear, the good angel counseling the use of common sense and compassion. “Temper, Wild. You’re freaking out your sub and making her think there’s something wrong with Micah.”

Lydia’s gaze lifted, and her eyes widened noticeably. Wilder groaned inwardly. Everett, his twin brother, had a magnetic personality. People flocked to Ever’s ready smile and easy charm. Wilder used to try to affect the same demeanor, but everything he did was either much more intense or completely lacked emotionality. He’d long ago given up trying to make people like him. Either they did or they didn’t, and he left it at that.

He moved his hand to her waist, needing to curve his fingers around something. Just touching her back wasn’t enough. He knew Ever would never make a move on Lydia, but that didn’t guarantee Lydia wouldn’t fall for his brother. “Lydia, this is my brother, Everett Burke.”

She looked from Ever to him and back again, no doubt searching for differences. They were there, to be sure, but though they were fraternal twins, they still looked a lot alike. Many people failed to differentiate between them. He waited, shoulders tensed, while she sorted them out.

Her gaze came to rest on him, finally coming to a stop. He stared back at her, gazing deep into her warm, fathomless eyes. Did he imagine the heat shimmering in the air between them? She parted her lips. An invitation?

At last she rolled her eyes and sighed. She offered her hand to Everett. “It’s nice to meet you, Everett. Wilder didn’t tell me he had a twin brother.”

Everett laughed, following Lydia’s lead by forgoing protocol. He closed his hand around hers, brought it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. “That’s because I’m better looking. He hates the competition.”

LYDIA SMILED WITH indulgent civility. Though definitely handsome, she wouldn’t call Everett better looking than Wilder. They shared the same strong lines in their cheeks and jaws. Both had sun-streaked light brown hair, cut shorter on the sides than the top. At first glance, they looked identical. Closer examination brought out the details.

Everett’s sea-green eyes, bright with amusement, seemed to lack Wilder’s intensity and sincerity. His mouth curved in a perpetual smile, flirty and welcoming, while Wilder pressed his lips together and tightened his grip on her waist. She wanted to wiggle away from his fingers digging into her skin, but she knew better than to do something that might be construed as rejection.

“That’s three.” Wilder’s breath tickled just behind her ear, triggering a shiver that shook her shoulders. She both anticipated and dreaded the punishment to come.

However, she wouldn’t accept a punishment for a failing on his part. She leaned into his embrace, pressing her back to his chest, and tilted her head to rest her face against his shoulder. This put her within whispering distance. “No, Sir, it isn’t. You weren’t even thinking about giving me permission to speak to your brother, and it would have been exceptionally rude to just stand here for much longer.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched and clenched. “Pet, you’re walking dangerously close to the edge.”

Oh, but he tested the limits of her temper. She didn’t take warnings from just anyone. While she had played along with his directives because he was a means to an end, there was a limit to the amount of authority she would accept from someone who wasn’t really her Master.

She was about to give him an earful, but Everett interrupted. “Lydia, I want you to meet Jude, Micah’s brother. The four of us make up the security department here at Oasis.”

After a brief warning glare at Wilder, she put on her best smile to meet the next person. If Wilder insisted on following such a strict protocol at an event like this, he needed to be quicker on the draw.

“Pet, say hello to another of my close friends.” His voice rumbled through his chest and into her back, reminding her that she hadn’t put space between them once she’d made her argument against strike three.

She offered her hand, which Jude took. As Everett and Micah had done, Jude greeted her warmly and a little too familiarly. He kissed her cheeks, tickling her skin with his neatly trimmed goatee. He shared a familial resemblance with Micah in the shapes of their faces, the dark brown in their eyes, and the confidence of their stances, but that was all. Jude’s fair skin looked like it sunburned easily, and his strawberry-blond hair stood out in stark contrast to Micah’s nearly black locks.

Wilder had a handsome group of friends. Lydia could see how the foursome would have an easy time finding willing submissives.

They chatted for a little longer, each of the men speaking directly to her instead of launching into topics only they would understand. She appreciated their consideration of her presence and her newness. Often being introduced as a submissive to a group of new people meant they ignored her and spoke only to her Dom.

That didn’t seem to be the case, as the pattern repeated throughout the night. If anything, Wilder ended up standing silently at her side while she conversed with new colleagues. She appreciated his low-key approach, especially since he never reversed his insistence she check with him before speaking to anyone.

She also noticed he never again failed to promptly give that permission.

The evening flew by. She met too many people to be able to remember them all, which irritated her to no end. Part of the plan Wilder had foiled included accessing personnel files so she could memorize names, faces, and positions.

Random faces whirled through her head as they drove home, specters rising against the dark backdrop of night, and she tried to attach names. Sometimes she met with success, but even then she doubted many of her matches. Defeated, she propped her elbow against the window and rested her forehead on her hand.

“Tired?”

The single-word question didn’t halt the flow of images, but it did penetrate the thick tension pressing in on her. Whether she was tired or not, she wouldn’t be able to sleep when she was this high-strung. “I’m just trying to remember names and faces.”

He chuckled quietly. “You met more than fifty people, Pet. Nobody expects you to remember them without some prompting.”

But they would be touched and pleased if she did remember them, especially those with whom she’d spent less than a minute in exchanging pleasantries. It made a difference. “I expect me to remember them, but I can’t, and it bothers the hell out of me.”

He reached over and rested his hot hand on her thigh. In the dark, he no doubt couldn’t see that he’d chosen a spot where her dress had ridden up when she had shifted with annoyance. The feel of his palm against her flesh sent insistent tingles racing straight to her pussy, and he didn’t shift his position one bit.

She shouldn’t be having this kind of reaction to Wilder. He wasn’t with her because he was interested in having sex. From snatches of conversation, she had confirmed Wilder’s assertion that nobody had made management without having had at least one fantasy fulfilled. To Wilder, she was nothing more than an assignment. No matter what kind of growing bond she felt with him, she had to keep in mind that he had only chosen her because she hadn’t indicated she wanted anything more than a top.

Not a single one of his buddies, including his brother, had been there with a submissive. This was a group of men not ready to get serious or settle down.

“I’m going to punish you when we get home. That’ll get your mind off your worries.”

While she accepted the first two punishments, she did reject the third. She looked forward to it, but she wondered if it would be enough. She squeezed his hand where it still rested on her thigh. “Thank you for staying so close to me. It really helped keep my nerves calm.”

He turned his hand to hold hers. “You’re welcome.”

How could she ask for a scene when she barely knew him and he had already planned her punishment?

Chapter Six

The drive back to the apartment didn’t take long. He gave her ten minutes of personal time before he required her to be naked and in the living room. She washed the makeup from her face and hung her peach dress to be dry-cleaned. Lastly she swept her hair into a knot so it would be out of the way. She hoped to hell he was planning a good, thorough punishment. Exhaustion would ensure a good night’s sleep, and she wanted to be bright-eyed for work in the morning.

He’d better let her go to work in the morning. If she didn’t think he’d make good on his threat to spank her in front of her coworkers, she might have entertained the idea of disobeying if he forbade her from going.

Emerging from her room, the first thing she noticed was the complete transformation of the far half of the living area. Two soffits divided the room into thirds. She had assumed they hid vents or plumbing, but she was wrong about one of them. Chains dangled from what apparently weren’t access panels, but panels that housed winches.

Wilder had pushed aside the two upholstered chairs that, with the sofa, completed a cozy L shape that focused on both the fireplace and the television. With the lights dimmed and the huge area rug folded out of the way to reveal the rich finish of the walnut floor, the moment took on a whole different quality from the night before. Where that bondage experience had been strangely sanitary and intimate at the same time, this seemed so much more momentous.

He was going to punish her. Thoroughly. Perhaps he sensed that she needed a heavy hand tonight. Wilder stood near the accent table he’d pushed against the wall, working a pair of scissors through heavy plastic. She knelt behind him and prayed for subspace.

Though she fastened her gaze to the floor near her knees, she saw his body twist as he turned in her direction.

“Remind us of your safe word, Pet.” He spoke gently, no trace of anger at her misbehavior evident.

“Oasis, Sir. May I ask a favor?”

He chuckled, and she searched the short sound for signs of his temper turning bad. “You’re so bold. I’m about to punish you, and you have either the courage or the audacity to ask a favor?”

Pointing out that she didn’t see much of a distinction between the two probably wouldn’t be productive right then, so she kept that morsel to herself. Plus, he sounded amused, not angry. She’d better only push him as a last resort. “Yes, Sir. If you’ll allow it.”

With one finger under her chin, he lifted her face so that she looked up at him. His eyes seemed darker, almost black in the soft light. “I’ll allow it.”

She took a chance. “Sir, after you punish me, will you…” Her courage fled. How dare she ask anything from this man? He owed her nothing. Even if he had owed her something, she didn’t know if he was the kind of man who would deny her request as part of the punishment. Once she’d thought she knew him, but that had proved to be not true. The man she thought she knew wouldn’t have run out on her without a word.

“Lydia, do you have questions about aftercare? I don’t plan to do anything that would leave lingering injuries. You specified that as a hard limit. If something happens, I have medical supplies in the cabinet, and there are more in each of the three bathrooms in this apartment. I will see to your care. If you have specific questions or requirements that weren’t in your woefully inadequate paperwork, now is the time to let me know.”

She trusted him to not push her limits, and that was part of the problem. Secretly she craved a Dom who would challenge those limits. She hungered for a man to whom she could reveal which of her hard limits were really soft, but that level of trust and respect wasn’t something she automatically issued, not anymore. She’d learned that the hard way.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I know you’ll see to my aftercare. I wanted to… I wondered if you would… Damn it, Sir. I would like to know if you could send me to subspace.” To help process the helplessness and anxiety she felt about starting a new job in a new state where she knew absolutely nobody. The soup of faces swam in her head, the images blending together to form an indistinct morass, and she hated it. She couldn’t say that out loud, but her mind shouted it over and over, drowning out everything but his response.

He rubbed his thumb over the item in his hand. She realized it was a nylon cuff, lined on the inside for comfort and almost impossible to escape. Looking at his face, reading the refusal before he said it, would be too much for her to bear. The motion of his thumb on that cuff mesmerized her senses. “I can see you need it tonight. Even a mild punishment would send you to a place that would leave you worse off in the long run. I’ll punish you in the morning after breakfast. Choose two or three instruments from the cabinet, ones you know will get you there.”

The decision took her by surprise, and she started. “Sir, I didn’t mean to put off the punishment. I misbehaved twice. I accept the punishment for those transgressions.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like to mix punishment with pleasure. If you continue to argue, Pet, I will change my mind and not grant your request.”

While she preferred to get the punishment out of the way, she let it go for now and scrambled to her feet. The walnut cabinet, stained two shades darker than the floor, stood open, revealing a wicked set of torture devices inside. Lydia chose a long-tailed flogger and two canes, one reed-thin and the other about twice as thick. While she had forbidden cuts, she hadn’t outlawed welts. If things went well, she would come out of this with a few.

He perused her selections with a furrowed brow. “We’re going to need more light. Do you want a blindfold?”

The half-light provided the perfect ambience. She hated to lose it. “Why will we need more light?”

“Because, my darling Pet, you have darker skin, which makes it harder to see the marks and colors I’m going to leave behind. It’s for your safety.” He opened a drawer and riffled through the contents. “I’m going to show you a hand signal. My gut says you’re going to need a gag.”

Lydia hadn’t answered questions regarding gags. After she’d decided she didn’t want to have sex with a Dom, she’d skipped the rest of that very long, very detailed section of questions. And she knew the hand signal, damn it. That was the first thing he’d taught her all those years ago.