What She's Looking For (8 page)

The last box. It had taken her more
than two weeks to unpack — and she’d packed almost nothing in her mad dash
across the country. She folded the box and stashed it in the kitchen to go out
with the garbage.

Finally, maybe it was home after
all.

Ashley sat on the bed, crunching
into an apple, and checked her e-mail. She wasn’t quite sold on doing
everything
through her smartphone yet; she still occasionally cracked open the old laptop
for nostalgia’s sake. Even as far away as she was from his house, Parker’s
wireless LAN was still loud and clear, so why not?

She didn’t know why she bothered
anymore. Porn spam, “follow me on Twitter” come-ons from hookers (or more
likely a 14 year old paid “phisher” in Kiev), and barrages of ads. Her e-mail
was a wasteland. She hadn’t checked it since she’d fled, afraid of what she’d
find. So why did she feel a vague sense of being let down at the fact that
there was nothing from Terry? What did she expect? Some groveling missive from
him professing his everlasting love? Begging for her forgiveness?

Yeah fucking right, Ashley.

Then she saw it. It was an e-mail
from Parker.

She remembered his e-mail address
from the listing on the house. Maybe he wasn’t some wannabe Dom after all? She
still wasn’t going to just do whatever he told her to. Attraction or not she
was determined to never again be a doormat.

She opened it, trying to ignore the
anticipatory race of her pulse.

“I know you’re thinking it over.
Don’t think, just do. Don’t forget my instructions.

See you Friday.

Parker”

The address and directions to the
winery were included below, but she didn’t read all of it. She wanted to throw
the damned apple through her window. Was she that transparent? How the hell
would he know?

Her irritation didn’t make him
wrong.

“What in God’s name are you doing,
Ashley? Come on!” She got up and paced along the bed, raising her arms up in
the air as she talked. She knew anybody watching her would probably think she
wasn’t quite playing with a full deck.

“You shouldn’t be jumping in the
sack with some dude, no matter what Tara says. You should be talking to a
therapist, not wondering what Parker’s ass looks like under those jeans.”

It was hopeless.

She had the perfect solution
though: the bottle of Chardonnay on the kitchen counter.

A half an hour and two glasses
later, she pulled open her drawer, looking at herself in the mirror. She held
the dress up to her chest, wondering.

She pumped a self-satisfied fist in
the air as she looked at her reflection. It still fit! Hell, it even seemed a
little big on her now.

The guilt and sorrow diet does
wonders for the waistline, Ash.

Truth be told she was probably
getting a little
too
thin, despite her belief that there really was no
such thing. She turned and craned her head around to see the back. It used to
be quite snug around her generous hips. It was by no means loose now, but it
had lost that hint of being less than demure that was part of the initial
attraction for her.

Guess it was time to hit Mickey Ds
after all, as Tara instructed.

“This is stupid,” She pulled the
dress back over her head. “You’re
not
doing what he tells you to do.”

She decided that she’d just go over
to the house on Thursday to talk to Parker. No, she wasn’t ready for a new
relationship, but damn he was a fine looking man. It didn’t mean something
might not happen eventually. Yes, she’d march over to that house and let him
know that she had indeed”been there, done that,” thank you very much.

Oh, who was she kidding? She’d
probably never make it as far as Parker anyway. Mr. Dark would probably answer
the door, flash that million watt grin of his, and she’d be curled up at his
feet. Literally.

Something else we shouldn’t be
thinking about, dear.

What she’d said to Parker was
practically the exact opposite of her tough girl pep talk, wasn’t it? Her mouth
had said the words, and an instant later her mind was screaming, trying to claw
them back in. If she was honest about it, yes, the idea more than intrigued
her. It made her pussy wet. But just because it excited her, didn’t make it a
good idea. Heroin excites a dope addict, but it doesn’t mean it’s something to
be “explored” further.

Maybe he had what Terry
didn’t
though?
Maybe Parker had the steel to match those hard eyes? Could he be caring
and
harsh, instead of just a prick? Would she take just plain harsh if he wasn’t a
complete asshole, Terry-style?

Setting the bar a tad low aren’t
you, Ashley?

There was a time, when she thought
she loved Terry, that she felt she would do just about anything for him. What
would she do if the man she loved really loved her back? She swallowed, her
mouth suddenly dry.

No, there was no use in
bullshitting herself about it. If Parker could be those things, she feared she
would be lost to him. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to just lay down and
let him take it without a fight.

She threw the dress down on top of
the dresser. Maybe she would try on her heels though too.

Just in case.

Chapter Nine

H
e wanted to tell Drake about this, but
something told him it wasn’t time. No sense in throwing the little girl in the
deep end when he didn’t need to.

Yet.

The maitre’ d, Sean, had offered to
lock up early, but Parker didn’t think the wait staff would appreciate the hit
to their tips they’d take for missing three hours of the busiest night of the
week. Especially in this economy. Fortunately, it wasn’t truly busy, and the
restaurant’s lighting and layout was designed such that one wasn’t entirely
sure how many customers were dining, whether it was actually busy or not.

Sean gave him the private alcove
all the way in the back, furthest from the kitchen doors, and allowing Parker
the best view of the front entrance. Parker still wasn’t sure she’d show. Maybe
he’d read her wrong?

It didn’t matter though because it
was time to push the issue a bit. Time to stop wondering.

He saw her slip in, and at first
didn’t recognize the woman as Ashley. That dress of hers was murder, even from
across the restaurant. It hugged her round hips, much as he imagined he’d be
doing someday soon. The straps of the dress reached up and clasped behind her
neck. Her hair was up, no doubt leaving a pleasing expanse of upper back bare
to the appreciative eye. Her breasts were mounded up at the low cut bodice. He
wondered how she was even wearing a bra in that dress. He hoped that she
wasn’t. But most of all, it seemed she had followed his instructions.

Mostly.

He glanced at his watch. 9:15. He’d
have to speak with her about that. She needed to know right from the beginning
what it was she could expect. What he expected from her.

Sitting forward in his chair, he
adjusted the slacks of his suit to give his hardening cock some room.

She looked around the restaurant,
and then Sean walked up to her. She said something to him and flashed a
tentative smile. Sean pointed her in Parker’s direction, and her eyes followed,
spotting him at the back.

Parker stifled the urge to raise
his hand to her, knowing he needed to play this one aloof for now. He could
tell she was nervous, and uncertain. Both would work to his advantage.

Watching her walk toward his table,
he could tell from her mincing gait, and the exaggerated sway of her hips that
she’d chosen the heels. Another point in her favor. His good girl.

“Stop,” Parker said.

Ashley flashed a nervous glance
around, her brow knit. She stood next to the table.

“Turn around, Ashley.”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth
moved. He leveled his gaze at her, motionless.

“Ashley. Now, please.”

Her lips thinned to a line, but she
did as ordered, the movement somewhat halting. She was evidently unused to
moving in tall heels. She’d just have to get used to them if she were his.

Soon.

“Stop there. No, don’t turn around
yet.”

He drew a breath between his teeth.
She was magnificent. The dress clung to her ass like a jealous lover, clutching
her lush buttocks in a tight embrace. Someone dropped a metal pan in the
kitchen, the sudden muffled clang making her jerk.

He smiled.

The fabric was low cut, exposing
the paleness of her back. He longed to run his hands along her smooth flesh,
feel the heat from the welts of his whip. He adjusted himself in his slacks
again, his cock fully erect and throbbing.

Soon.

She cleared her throat, and he
shook his head sharply. She turned her head, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Sit please, Ashley.”

She slid into the booth, setting
her purse on the seat between them.

He was silent for a moment as his
gaze passed over the generous curves of her breasts, barely contained in the
tight dress. His eyes flicked up to hers. “The dress is beautiful, Ashley.
Thank you.”

She flashed a quick uncertain
smile. “I didn’t remember it being this, uh, low cut. I feel like a hooker.”

Parker chuckled. “You won’t hear me
complain.”

Her pretty blush was back. He
wanted to cup her cheek in his hand to feel the heat of it.

“Parker, I need to say something. I
don’t want you to get the wrong idea about things.”

“You followed my instructions.” He
glanced down at his watch. “Most of them, anyway. That’s all that matters to
me, Ashley.”

Her gaze flickered and she fingered
the cloth napkin in front of her. He could see a telltale shaking of her
delicate fingers.

“What are we doing here? Really?”

He sat back, laying an arm on the
table. “What do you think, Ashley? You tell me why you think we’re here.”

She looked down a moment. “I don’t
know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. I shouldn’t have come.”

“But you did. That says it all,
doesn’t it? It says to me that you want to hear more. Am I wrong?”

She shook her head, the slightest
of movements.

“I think you know why, though.
You’re just afraid to say it. Tell me.”

Ashley moved to stand up, grabbing
at her purse.

“Wait.” He laid his big palm flat
on the white tablecloth. “Sit. Don’t tell me you went to all this trouble just
to flee back the way you came?”

She didn’t move, her eyes on the table
between them.

“Give me your hand.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “What?”

“Give me your hand, Ashley. Just
that, for now.” He stared into her green eyes, willing her to defy him. Part of
him wanted her to.

Her hand slid across the table to
his. Then he clasped her warm, trembling fingers in his hand, and smiled.

* * *

Her heart galloped in her chest as
she felt the grip of his strong fingers around hers. Firm, but comforting all
at once. The way a man feels.

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?”
He tipped his head to the side. “Now, we need to talk.”

“Okay. Just talk though. Please.”

He nodded, those cruel eyes not
leaving hers. “I don’t want you to think about your other men. What’s happened
in the past, Ashley. I only want you to think about us. About me. Can you do
that?”

Ashley nodded, knowing it was a
lie. She felt ashamed for it.

“Good. Now that we’re thinking
about us, about me, I have a question for you.”

She didn’t like these questions.
She wanted to just sit there and look at him, feel his thumb stroking over her
knuckles. Just enjoy the possibilities.

“What time did I tell you to be
here tonight?”

She gulped, her heartbeat shifting
into a higher gear. She had purposely arrived late. She regretted it now.

“Nine o’clock.”

He nodded. His smile remained, but
a glint had snuck into his gaze.

“Look, Parker. I couldn’t find the
place right away.” She knew it sounded as lame as it was untrue.

He just looked at her, the muted
sounds of the restaurant competing with the rushing noise in her ears.

Say something for Christ’s sake!

“You walked through that door at
9:15.” He opened his napkin and spread it upon his lap. “You didn’t follow my
instructions.”

“Parker—”

“I want you to just listen, for
now.”

Her mouth clamped shut. She hoped
she didn’t look like a landed fish.

“One of the first things we have to
be clear on is what you can expect from me. If you were mine, Ashley. What do
you think would happen, if you showed up fifteen minutes late?”

“I don’t — I don’t know. You’d be
angry?”

“No.” He leaned closer, his grip on
her hand tightening ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t be
angry
. I’d be
disappointed.”

His gaze bored into hers, his smile
gone, and she had the urge to sink down into her seat. “I’d be disappointed
that you disobeyed me.”

Her mouth was as dry as a desert at
high noon. “I’m sorry, Parker.”

Fucking doormat! No!

His smile returned, and he winked
at her. “But you aren’t mine — yet. So you’re off the hook.”

She relaxed, flexing the fingers of
the fist she’d clenched in her lap. Her other hand was still held in his, but
somehow that fact didn’t bother her. His thumb whispered over the bumps of her
knuckles, the movement so slight it almost tickled.

“What would happen?” She couldn’t
believe the question fell from her lips, and she had to resist the urge to wince.

“Happen with what?” He picked up
the menu, looking over the choices with those all-seeing eyes of his.

Stop Ashley, you dumb ass. You
don’t have to do this.

“What would happen if I were …
yours.” She felt stupid saying it, but she
did
want to know. The self-destructive,
curious, what-the-fuck part of her that loved to get her ass in a sling just
had
to know.

“Oh, that would depend,” he said,
his eyes not leaving the menu. Perfectly at ease, as if they were discussing
the weather.

“On what?” she breathed. She was
sure he could hear the bass drum beat of her heart, it was so loud in her own
ears.

“On what I felt like, I suppose.”
He looked at her again, a half smile on his face. “You’d be getting at least a
nice, hard spanking, that’s for sure.”

Ashley swallowed, her womb
clenching at the words. So maybe she hadn’t changed that much since Terry. She
was in trouble.

The waiter arrived and she sighed
in relief. Parker ordered salmon, and the waiter turned to Ashley.

“I think—”

“Nothing for her, Javier. More wine
though when you get a chance?”

The waiter nodded, gathering the
menus and flicking a quick glance at Ashley. She didn’t like the mirth she saw
in the man’s eyes.

“What am I going to eat, Parker?
You invited me here remember?” Her stomach was growling, despite her nerves.

He looked over at her as if she
were speaking gibberish. “You’ll eat what I give you, Ashley. Just to try it on
for size.”

She glared at him a moment, then
turned her gaze away. What the hell was he doing? It wasn’t 1950! What was
next? Making her kneel at his feet while he fed her from his fingers?

The frisson of desire she felt at
the thought disturbed her.

“I’m still curious, Ashley.”

She set her purse back on the seat;
she’d been clutching it in a death grip. “About what?”

“Sir,” he said with a hard look,
his long fingers steepled together in front of him.

“What?”

“The proper term of respect is
‘Sir’.”

Her cheeks heated. This was new
territory. She and Terry had never gotten this far into it. “What … Sir?”

A gorgeous grin brightened his
face. “Much better, Ashley. I like the sound of that.”

He sipped from his wine glass. “I’m
curious why you were purposely late. Did you want to be punished?”

“No!” Her blush deepened, and she
looked around, sheepish, hoping nobody else heard her.

“Relax, Ashley,” he said, laughing.
“Not mine yet, remember?”

Clenching her hand into a fist in
her lap again, she wondered why she wasn’t bothered by the fact that he still
clasped her other hand. This wasn’t going as she’d thought it might. Hell, she
had no idea how this was supposed to work. If this was — whatever
this
was — something that she’d even want.

She took a gulp of her water,
trying to get some moisture back in her mouth — all the wetness in her body
seemed to have migrated to her pussy.

“Well?”

“I don’t want you to think that I‘m
just going to roll over and do whatever you say. I — I’m not that way. I’m not
some doormat.”

“What makes you think doing what
you’re told makes you a doormat?”

“I know,” she said, smiling
ruefully. “It’s not what it’s supposed to be right? Just a role to play? I
don’t think I can do that.”

“It wouldn’t be a role with me,
Ashley.” He set his wine glass down, tightening his grip on her hand. “I don’t
play games. Ever.”

With a gulp, she met his gaze. His
steel eyes held not a hint of warmth in them. To a normal woman that would be
unsettling, frightening even. It made her pussy drip.

You are one messed up chick,
Ashley. You should not be doing this.

“Parker.”

He frowned for the first time. She
didn’t like that frown one bit, though the exact reason why eluded her.

“Sir … what do you want? What am I
supposed to do?”

She knew she needed to listen to
that small quiet voice. The one telling her to retrieve her hand and walk out
the door. To do anything else was insane. She knew this.

But she didn’t do it. This was that
chance to see if she could still be who she’d dreamt of being. The person she
wanted to be with Terry — at least at the beginning. Maybe Parker was the one?
She thought about the phone conversation with Tara, her boyfriend Brian in the
room with her. How Ashley’s heart had ached for the loss of someone to feel
that closeness with. A soul to share her life with, a companion on her journey.
For the first time in a very long time, she felt … lonely.

Be careful what you wish for,
Miss Lonely Heart.

“Ashley, I want to see if you’ll be
a good girl, and obey me. So far, you’ve mostly exceeded my expectations.”

Her eyes widened. “I have?”

Parker’s beautiful smile banished
the memory of his dark frown. “You showed up didn’t you? And wearing that
bewitching dress, no less. I can see why any man of yours might feel …
threatened.”

“That’s the kind of possessive shit
I’m trying to get away from. I hate jealousy.”

He frowned again, and lay her hand
on the table, covering it in his. Possessive.

“First, watch your language.
Second, a possession is just what you’d be, if you were mine. My most treasured
one, but a possession nonetheless. I need you to be clear on this.”

She licked her lips, reaching for
her water glass once more.

“Maybe this won’t work then.” She
tried to pull her hand back. but he pressed down on it, stilling her.

“I think that bothers you a lot
less than you’re letting on. Maybe you feel like you have to say that? Not be a
‘doormat’, as you say?”

“I’m serious. I can’t be someone’s
possession
.”
She needed to calm her beating heart, slow her breathing. His words had
agitated her, but that didn’t stop moisture from slickening her clenching
pussy. She felt sure any minute she’d feel a trickle down her thigh.

“Can’t you?” He leaned closer. “Does
the thought really sound so horrible? To be cherished, protected?”

“Controlled? A plaything?” She
wasn’t letting him get off easy on this one. She had to prove to him — and
herself — that she wasn’t some spineless pushover. Beaten down, scared, like
she’d been in the past. Worse.

“Yes, maybe you’d be a plaything,
if you want to think of it that way.” His gaze flashed as he sat back again. “You
would be mine after all.”

“I am nobody’s plaything, Parker.”

“Sir,” he growled. “And if you were
mine, you would be.”

Ashley digested that for a minute,
the stroking of Parker’s hand over her own a pleasant distraction from her dark
thoughts.

She was supposed to be fleeing the
possessiveness and insane jealousy she’d experienced with Terry. Fleeing what
those feelings could bring out in a man. And here she was, sitting in a
restaurant with Parker, discussing whether or not she would submit to him,
whether she would consent to being owned by him.

More disturbing to her was the fact
that she wasn’t as alarmed as she should be by such an idea. Her weeping pussy
and stone-hard nipples didn’t seem alarmed at all, in fact. Was this something
she’d really have the courage to do? More importantly, did she trust Parker?
Could she trust
any
man after Terry? After the betrayal and humiliation
at his hands?

The waiter returned with Parker’s
meal. Despite her initial visions of being fed at Parker’s fingers as she knelt
by his chair, he instead shared his meal with her, scooping some of his food
onto her empty plate. She wondered if it was a more subtle way of exerting
control. Parker being the one to decide how much she ate, without going too far
with it. A way to help her inner feminist save face.

Screw that, Ash. None of your
feminist friends would be okay with a one bit of tonight’s events.

She found that she really didn’t
give a fuck.

They finished and the waiter took
the dishes away, Parker offering Ashley the last sips of his wine. He beamed at
her as she drank.

“I believe in the power of choices,
Ashley. So I’m giving you another. It won’t always be this way though.”

Blinking, she wondered if it was
the wine or her fluttering heart that was making her feel lightheaded. She was
really doing this!

“I’m taking you home tonight. If
you come inside with me tonight, you will do everything I say.” He leveled his
piercing gray gaze at her again. “
Everything
.”

She nodded. “I understand. I … “

How could she tell Parker that the
deepest, most shameful part of her feared the choice? Didn’t
want
the
chance to refuse. Wanted what it might mean to be deprived of it. She knew it
was wrong, but the elemental being didn’t care. The instinctual, primitive
spirit had its own agenda.

Excitement. Danger. Fear.

Alive.

She shook her head, and Parker took
her hand again, his clutch gentle as silk. It amazed her, the subtleties he
could convey with his touch.

“A choice, Ashley. Like coming to
dinner tonight. I leave it up to you.”

He stood and buttoned the charcoal
suit. She’d never seen him in anything so formal, but the impeccable fabric fit
him as if he were born to it, the cut emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders,
the narrowness of his hips.

“Ashley?” He held out his hand to
her.

“What about my car? I’ll get towed.”

He winked. “I know the owner of
this place. He won’t mind.”

* * *