Lyon on a Leash (15 page)

He had backed off; pleased she had allowed him to pay for all the food as well as the meal they ate at the fast food bar in the store.

Once home, he insisted he should put up all the food and supplies. That way he’d know where he put them. She didn’t argue, but sat at the granite-topped island to keep him company.

“That lady was following you.”

He shot up from placing some refrigerated items on a lower shelf. “What?”

She popped a grape in her mouth before continuing. “In the store. Short red hair, big boobs, kinda tall and skinny. Remember her?”

He hadn’t noticed. He’d been preoccupied with his list. “No. I don’t remember her.”

“She noticed you,” she murmured.

He had nothing to add and silently continued putting away food.

“I have a problem,” she said.

He nodded, thinking it was another quirk. Perhaps it was a reminder of her policy of not sharing her things, or of washing his hands before preparing anything for her, or something of that ilk.

“My boss has been trying to get me to sleep with him for the past five months. Or at least I think that’s what he wants. He keeps asking me out.”

Everything in him froze. He forgot to breathe.

“Marcus?”

It was the thread of worry in her voice that broke through his momentary stasis. Even so, he wasn’t sure he was firing on all cylinders when he answered. “Yes.”

“Are you…are you okay?” There was worry and concern in her voice.

With slow, deliberate movements, he turned to face her. His heart beat so loud, he had to remind himself to speak in a normal tone. “Your boss wants to f—I mean, have sex with you? Is it harassment? Has he tried to get you alone? Or done anything inappropriate?” With each question, his rage grew. What the hell was going on here? He’d been sure she was genuine, and wanted the same things he did, regardless of what she’d said about falling in love. If she was about to change course and claim she sexed the boss man up on occasion, he was outta there, pronto. That was not a road he would travel.

She slumped in her seat and released a long, drawn-out sigh. “Yeah. No, it’s not harassment, yet. He’s been careful with his texts and only says nasty things when we’re alone.” She looked up at him, her freckles more prominent against the misery imprinted on her lovely face. His anger slid into concern, but he stopped himself from offering comfort. Not this time, he argued with himself. He’d never be used again.

“Here’s the thing,” she said. “I’ve been looking for another job, but then he found out and blocked the two places that specialize in my field.”

“Blocked? How?” He stood in front of her, waiting for an explanation, hoping she was different, that he hadn’t made another bad decision and chosen the wrong woman.

“The jobs were pulled or suddenly filled. I heard through some associates that he called in some favors.”

The need to know one thing pushed at him. “Are you attracted to him?”

She jerked as if he’d slapped her. Her face twisted into a picture of distaste. “Hell, no. He’s a pompous asshole who cheats on his wife with any woman he can find. I’m sure the only reason he’s chasing me is because I said no. I’ll give him credit: he’s smart, fine, and good-looking.”

Marcus flinched, not liking the direction of her comments. But he’d asked.

“But that’s surface shit. Amy, my assistant, has been with the company a while. She told me Brinks had been engaged to a smart, gorgeous attorney, Renita Ferguson. But he wanted to make partner in the firm. And the fastest way to do that was to marry the senior partner’s daughter. So he dumped Renita—I guess he thought he could keep her on the side—and married Susan. It backfired on his ass.” She smiled.

“What happened?” He resumed putting up the food as his heart rate settled.

“After he dumped Renita? One of the senior partners for the largest firms in Atlanta stepped up. From what I hear, he had been after her for a long time. Guess who comforted her when she was in the dumps?”

He shrugged, understanding it was a rhetorical question. He didn’t know any of the players.

“The competition.” Her brow furrowed in concentration. “I can’t remember his name now, but anyway, he married her and she’s a senior partner in the largest firm in the state. I think they have a couple of kids now. Anyway, I think Brinks feels he needs to lock down as many women as possible since he lost her.”

“Brinks is…what? White? Black?”

“Mixed like Obama.”

Forget Brinks
. She didn’t seem to care for him, but he wanted to know how the man would impact their relationship. “Is there anyone you can talk to about his harassing you?”

“I thought about that. But he’s married to the senior partner’s daughter. It could get ugly and I’d lose my job.”

This discussion was going in circles and he had to get off the train. He put both hands on the counter and faced her. “Mistress.”

It took her a moment to look at him.

“Mistress, if he continues to bother you, it
will
get ugly. I’m your submissive until you release me. But I need you to understand a part of my makeup is to protect as well as serve. I can’t stand by and watch or allow someone to mess with you. No man would. You need to understand that about me, just as I understand your quirks.” He held up the three bottles of anti-bacterial hand soap he’d purchased. “If he stresses you, I will react. If he touches you, I will hurt him, badly. You need to know this about me before we go much further.”

She blinked. Her mouth opened and then closed. She shook her head a bit and continued staring at him. Finally, she licked her lips. “Are you serious?”

He crossed his arms, his muscles bunching beneath his shirt. “Very.”

They were at an impasse and he could no more change his base nature than she could change hers. Not only had she asked him to accept her, quirks and all, she expected it of him. He required the same from her.

“Are you saying you’d fight?’ She held up her balled fists. “I mean, is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying I will take action against anyone who causes you harm. If it came to fighting….” He shrugged. “I’d try to fill his ass with my boot.”

“People don’t—”

“I do. I will. And that is something you need to take into consideration. I kneel to one woman. You. I take that very seriously. How can I allow someone to make you miserable when my sole purpose is to make you happy? I can’t make sense of doing nothing. It doesn’t work for me.”

“But…but you can’t go around beating up people. It’s not…you just can’t do that.” Her arms fell to her sides as she looked at him with disbelief.

“Would you rather I just shot him?”

Her eyes widened. “What?” she screeched. “No…. Look at me Marcus. No guns. No shooting. You have a gun? Yeah, you told me your daddy taught you how to shoot and you had a gun. Okay, let’s backtrack. No shooting anybody.”

He waited a heartbeat before he spoke. “When you look at me, what do you see?” he asked, in a soft, curious tone. Granted, they hadn’t spent a lot of time together but he had been crystal clear about his expectations. Maybe she hadn’t heard him or maybe he hadn’t been as clear as he’d thought. He stepped back from the counter and waited for her response.

Straightening, she swallowed hard and returned his stare. “I see a man. A strong man with a code of honor few can match, especially in the world I work.” She licked her lips but held his gaze. “I see a man who says what he believes and follows through. I see a man who has followed every instruction I have given him to the letter. A man who will walk behind me, or next to me, or even in front of me, without batting an eye. I see a man whose only thought is my well-being.” Her voice softened. “Marcus, I need to be able to talk to you about anything. But I can’t if it’s going to cause you to react in a certain way.”

He tensed.

Her hand flew up to stop his response. “No. Hear me out.” She waited a beat before continuing. “I despise Gerard Brinks. I even feel sorry for his wife even though she can’t stand me. But I don’t want you going to jail over this bullshit. And that’s all it is. He’s a man who wants something he can’t have. He is not worth you going to jail.”

“You’re right. He’s not. But you’re worth that and a whole lot more to me. No man’d allow another man to harass his woman. Do you think I’d do less? Or is it that you only see me as your servant? Even so, as your submissive I’m still a man. And I can’t stand by and allow him or anyone to mess with you.”

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry this distresses you. But I tried to be clear. The other Mistresses told you I’m a throwback to the times when men took damn good care of their women. I respect you and will follow your lead in every area but this. It cuts too deeply into who I am.” He paused. “Do I need to go and pack?” At this rate he’d never move from over the garage, but he had to be honest.

She sat still at the counter, her head resting on her palms. “You just bought all this food.”

Damn the food
. “It’s okay, you can have it.”

“Not without you.” She looked up at him. “We’ll have to work through this. I’m asking you not to embarrass me by lashing out at him first. Try to ignore him. See him for the asshole he is. If he challenges you, well, do what you have to do. But, please not in my office.”

Something eased inside him. “Yes, ma’am. I can do that. It might be a good idea to let him know there is a man in your life.”

Her face broke into a radiant smile. “You bet your sweet ass I will.”

He turned and put away the rest of the food. The dark mood that threatened to overtake him lifted.
She gets me
. That was important.

“Speaking of your ass, you about done?”

He eyed the bags on the countertop. “Two more to go.”

She stood, looked at him over her shoulder. “Good. When you’re done, come downstairs to the basement. There’s a few things I want to show you.” She walked a few feet and opened a door he hadn’t noticed.

His heart raced from her implication. It had been a long time since he’d found release beneath the sting of the lash or solid thump of a paddle. He snatched the bag from the countertop, and put the items up in record speed. His thoughts centered on what she’d do with him downstairs.

“Marcus,” she called out.

“Coming.” He smiled, hoping he was correct.

A few minutes later, he loped down the stairs into the basement. It opened into a nice-sized recreation room. He eyed the pool table in the middle of the room, the seating group in front of the large, flat-screen television, the bar area with a full-sized refrigerator, and a door left ajar.

“Ma’am?” He headed to the open door.

“Stop. Strip.”

Marcus looked into the room, making out some furniture. A cross. A couple of spanking benches. A large, wood queening chair sat at the other end.

“There’s a couple of lockers through that hallway, but whenever we play here, just remember no clothes.”

His heart sped up as he entered the room, looked at the floggers, paddles, massage table, and various toys around the room. Excitement raced through him at the thought of her handling him. The night of the auction, he’d been so close to flying apart. He wanted that again.

When he reached her, he kneeled in front of her chair. He wished he still wore the collar from the auction. It had made his position clear without either of them making any verbal commitments.

“Welcome to Atlanta and my home.” She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his.

He watched her until his head was jerked back as she fisted his hair. Like before, his mind simply clicked. He floated to another level. Her lips caressed his even as she pulled his hair. The competing sensations made his body sing. She took her time, taking full possession of his mouth.

Moments later, she dropped her hand from his hair and grabbed his face, holding him in place as her teeth nibbled across his lips. The bites grew harder but he welcomed the pain. Her fingernails caressed his chest. Each subsequent stroke, her nails pressed deeper into his flesh; all the while her mouth remained fused to his. The burn from his chest coupled with the sweetest kisses he’d ever experienced sent his mind reeling.
This is my kryptonite
. He was a puppet in her hands.

“Mmm, you’re so sweet,” she whispered against his mouth as her fingertips pulled and pinched his nipples.

He couldn’t speak beneath the barrage of conflicting feelings surging through him. His body jerked while leaning into her for more. Pre-cum leaked onto his thigh. His cock throbbed in anticipation. He needed more.

“Stand up.” She moved to the St. Andrew’s Cross. His body hummed, primed for her delectable torture. With a finger, she pointed to the cross. He turned, leaned back, and held his hands up. She wasted no time handcuffing his arms and legs to the wood while he faced her.

Her hand cupped his balls and squeezed lightly. He watched the light of excitement in her eyes as she manipulated him into the position she wanted.
Yes
, s
he’s enjoying this
. Knowing that made the play so much better.

His thighs jumped when she smashed his balls together, causing a smile to light her face. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again. He’d never get tired of her lips.