Management Skills (4 page)

“You grew apart because…?”

“Because I started taking classes at the college. He let things slide, indulging me, spoiling me, as if he was afraid. Maybe he figured I’d leave him once I got a degree. Never would have happened. I loved him. But I depended on his exacting nature for security. I needed his praise. I needed him to put me over his knee during those rare times I didn’t meet his standards. He didn’t do any of that anymore. Instead, he worshipped me. For the first time, I didn’t know where I stood.”

“Did you talk to him about your worries?”

“How could I? How could I tell him I was unhappy with his leadership? Was I supposed to beg him to be stronger? I couldn’t. But without Joseph’s control, I became a failure as his submissive, a frustrated full-on bitch, resistant and sassy. Maybe I wanted to force him to take the reins again, I don’t know. I provoked him. Bad. I was absolutely dreadful. He corrected me. Finally. Believe me, I felt every single stinging, bare-assed swat. For days. But it was too late for correction. I needed his guidance and security, not punishment. I lost respect for him. I’m sure he lost respect for me, too. So we went our separate ways.”

She gazed at the incongruously romantic candle flame for a moment, reliving those last terrible days with Joseph.

“What do you think about correction?” She had no idea why she asked him that. She didn’t need a new Dominant.

“Not my first choice. Failing to communicate is a big deal in my book, but it’s a problem that usually requires talking out, not physical correction.”

“So you’d never spank a sub.”

“Oh, I would,” he said. “And I have.”

“For what?”

“Lying. Lying is a limit of mine.”

What kind of woman had he once owned? Why had she lied?

“I love my life as it is, Sir.” Damn. The
Sir
just popped out again.

“And that’s what makes you so attractive, Allie. Ownership isn’t about tearing you down and rebuilding you. You’re a spectacular woman as you are. I want you, not some Vault fantasy. I want your fierce intelligence, your ambition, your creativity, your stamina and your sexual sensitivity.”

“But you can get all of those things as my lover.”

He drank his scotch. “A naughty ’nilla relationship won’t allow me to focus that red-hot fire of yours. I want to own you.”

The lure of having her fires stoked under his dominant hand hit her hard. But it would be foolish to jump into the restraints just because she’d once had spectacular sex with him.

“I need more time,” she said.

“You have all the time you need.” His expression radiated both confidence and gentle patience. He was sure she’d eventually say yes.

Allie met Pilar out by the apartment pool to take advantage of the unusual December heat wave. Pilar lay on a lounge chair, her brown body squeezed into a hot orange strapless suit. Her hair was dyed orange, too. Her toes were embellished with various rings. Piles of the
San Francisco Chronicle
and
Mercury News
were stacked on either side of her; the girl read newspapers only on a monthly basis.

Pilar looked Allie up and down, snickering at her conservative marine-blue one-piece swimsuit. “Forgot your swim goggles again?”

Allie dragged a lounge chair next to her friend and lay down. “Nah. I didn’t forget my goggles. The nuns stole them.”

Ferns and small palms ringed the pool, but they didn’t provide shade. Allie slathered sunscreen on her pale skin. The oil smelled deliciously of coconut.

Pilar wanted to know all about the date with Grant. Allie told her about the fun of the tapas bar, about Grant’s big family and about their kiss at the end of the date. She totally left out the ownership talk.

They discussed their upcoming dream trip to Japan. Pilar had found an awesomely cheap flight. So cheap that the dream might even become reality. But the flight had a stopover in Hawaii and they argued about how long they should stay there. Allie didn’t think she had the vacation time for anything but Japan. Pilar gave her the usual crap about working too hard.

After a smirky giggle, Pilar started reading one of her newspapers. Allie pulled out the latest Andy McDermott thriller. She read about twenty pages, marking the paper with greasy sunscreen fingerprints. Closing her eyes, she savored the sensation of the sun heating her thighs. A memory of Grant flitted through her brain. How he stood by her office door, half-naked, all contoured muscle and sexy smile. And then the aftermath, his potency, her pleasure. She let the memories of Grant’s powerful handling slip away. She fell asleep.

When she woke up, Pilar was still reading newspapers.

“Ha!” Pilar cried. “You gotta see this. It’s your outfit.”

Pilar shoved the paper under Allie’s nose. She poked the paper with her bright pink fingernail. “She’s wearing your clothes.”

Allie sighed, studying a society page photo of a cultured woman wearing the same nubby silk couturier suit Allie owned. “So?”

“So,” Pilar said. “Look at her. She’s at least seventy. I’ll bet she has a swimsuit like yours, too. You don’t have a bit of pride in your body. Like her. A boring, snooty piece of white bread.”

Allie glared at Pilar, envious of her flamboyance and freedom as a machinist. “I’m not even
close
to being white bread.”

“Yeah?” Pilar’s black eyes twinkled. “Then prove it.”

Allie took the dare.

A few hours later, they both lay by the pool again, but now they had brand-new navel rings. Allie’s ornamentation was silver and Pilar’s gold. Pilar broke open a bottle of Beaujolais, and then another, and they drank until they no longer felt the sting.

Grant wasn’t quite as patient as he pretended to be. He was obsessed with Allie. Reliving the way she’d looked up at him from the folding chair, calling him Sir, made him instantly hard.

He’d lost control that night in her office. Rutting like a wild animal, taking her—and taking her again. Oh, she’d responded to his crazed, rampant force well enough, but she deserved more than a selfish lover. Much more.

Since their date at Barcelona, they’d met for a few dinners and a lunch. They’d talked about their plans for the future, about family. They’d discussed sexual obedience, what it meant to be a Dominant, what it meant to be a submissive. He had a hard time keeping his hands off her. Her curves, her scent of lilacs, her warmth, all drove him wild. The attraction was reciprocal. Her desire for him was evident in her every breath.

Still she resisted.

Despite his agonizing impatience, he gave her the space she needed. Being owned involved a mental surrender, not a physical one. She had to come to him because his leadership and care inspired her, not his steel-hard cock.

Sooner or later she would offer herself up to him. He’d already had some custom-designed jewelry created for the occasion. Once he owned her, he’d focus her brilliant, chaotic sexual fire into a laser beam for their mutual pleasure.

He called Allie to invite her to come to a business dinner with him. She was in Baltimore, attending a specialized lighting class. She agreed to return to California to meet with the client. The client was Satin, the huge country star—and an old friend. He had some concerns about the complexity of Satin’s proposed show. He wanted his best production managers in on the preliminary meetings.

Grant picked Allie up at her apartment. She looked good enough to eat. Her long black dress hugged her plush womanly body, showing just a hint of cleavage. He appreciated her sexy dangly earrings, her angelic short hair, her gentle scent.

“Black looks good on you.”

She smiled shyly. Her demure expression sent a shockwave of desire through him.

He opened the door of the Audi R8 for her. Allie paused before she slid in, glancing up at the apartment building. He followed her gaze. The eccentric machinist stood on a high balcony, giving Allie the thumbs-up sign.

He chuckled.

They sped off in his little white sports car and soon reached their destination. The restaurant reminded him of a French country estate with its fresh-cut flowers and rich burgundy-patterned wallpaper. It smelled like candle wax and cinnamon.

The party was already seated by the time Grant and Allie got there. Grant introduced Allie to Satin and Satin’s manager, Hank. Allie already knew the three other SSG production managers, all experts in one technology or another.

The strength of his protective feelings toward Satin took Grant by surprise. Pale and beautiful, she still exuded a helpless air, like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince. Large silver and turquoise earrings set at her delicate jaw made her look even more frail. A few dark tendrils curled down from her upswept hair, brushing her bare slender shoulders.

They ordered drinks and made small talk about airport security, cracking each other up. Hank was a bit of a blowhard, but Grant supposed that was a plus in the talent manager field. Allie joined in the joking. Satin was silent, studying Allie.

The waiter came, and they all ordered seafood, the restaurant’s specialty. Hank presented his preliminary ideas for Satin’s show. They were elaborate, prompting the production managers to brainstorm. Grant nursed his scotch, listening to his team coming up with suggestions. He was impressed with them all.

At one point Hank practically bellowed, “Eh. You people at SSG can do anything.”

“What do you think, Grant?” Satin asked in her softly musical way. “Is the show doable?”

He gazed at her, flooded with affection for this soft and submissive woman. After all these years, there was no erotic spark between them, but he still cared for her. Deeply.

Satin deserved the best. He hoped he’d be able to provide it. “A little too early to say.”

Satin nodded and returned to watching Allie. SSG’s gorgeous lighting expert was asking Hank tons of questions about the show. Her expression was troubled. Grant gave Allie a brief pat on her thigh, wondering what she thought about Hank’s ideas.

The food arrived. Thinly sliced cucumber was layered over the top of his poached salmon, looking like scales. The group continued to throw around ideas as they ate. Eventually the little dinner meeting broke up, with promises to continue the discussion at a later time.

Grant and Allie walked out to the parking lot holding hands. Gently molding her shoulders, he nudged her up against the Audi. He felt the delicious pressure of his pelvis against hers, his pulse pounding where their bodies met. He was a fool to touch her like this in public. But he loved hearing her little gasp.

“What do you think about Hank’s concert ideas?” he asked.

She looked up at him, all focus and gravity. “The light show Hank is proposing is at the ragged edge of current technology. We’d have to do the programming from scratch and maybe even then it wouldn’t work.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“I’m really sorry,” she said. “I know you wanted to do it.”

Sliding his hands from her shoulders up to her jaw line, he tugged gently at her dangly earrings. “We have to ground clients all the time. Don’t be sorry.”

“But you owned Satin.”

Allie’s perception amazed him. “You’re right. I did. We were together for more than three years. Until she begged release to pursue her career.”

“You loved her.”

“Yes. And I always will. Once I love, it doesn’t stop just because we’re no longer a couple.”

She rested her head on his chest, reaching around his waist with her arms. Her delicate, giving manner disarmed him.

“I want to be owned by you, Sir.”

Allie prowled about his spacious apartment. She scanned the living room, up and down, back and forth, patting his exercise equipment, opening and shutting the curtains. He lounged on his brown leather couch, amused. Let her investigate. It relaxed her. Besides, he could use some time to plan. Entertaining Allie would require plenty of creativity—his bachelor pad was kink-free.

“You’re really neat,” she said, inspecting his DVD collection.

“I only sleep here. Weeknights, mainly. I head out coastside for the weekends.”

She bounced into his bathroom. “Wow. Big.” Her voice echoed off the tiles. She swept into the bedroom. “Ooh. I like your bedroom. Nice masculine decor.”

“Are you looking for something in particular?” he asked.

“No, I’m looking for everything. I want to know what your taste is like, what you eat for breakfast, what you sleep in and—” She poked her head out of the bedroom door, her face alight, her manner seductive. “Should I undress, Sir? Lie on your big bed and wait for you to fuck me silly?”

He rose from the couch. “No. I like you in that dress. It hugs you in all the right places. And it’ll show off your collar beautifully.”

She blinked. The teasing expression fell, replaced by a quiet anticipation.

He collected a black velvet jewelry case from his briefcase. “Come here.”

She hurried over to kneel in front of him, fully clothed.

He didn’t want her supplication. Not yet. So he knelt too, holding the case. They would be at the same level until he collared her. “Are you desirous of being owned, Allie?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you vow to be my sexual slave and servant?”

A sweet little smile quirked her lips. “I do.”

“Such a union can be magnificent. But you’ve only seen the superficial shell of this interaction. Pleasure. Devotion. Excitement. You haven’t yet experienced the rigorous substance of this arrangement. Are you prepared to learn?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He touched her soft cheek with the palm of his hand. “Do you promise me your utter and complete sexual obedience?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He tilted her chin upward. “It is a hard thing, you who are your own woman, to submit to the sexual authority of another. Do you promise to remain chaste in my absence?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you promise if you have difficulty with this relationship, you will talk to me?”

“I will,” she said, looking up at him with burning eyes.

“I do not wish to hurt you or frighten you. Do you agree to use a safeword if I provoke you to the limits of your endurance, sexual or otherwise?”

She was silent, considering. Perhaps she’d never had a safeword before. She expelled a long breath, as if the agreement was difficult.

“I will use a safeword, Sir.”

“Your safeword is
over
. Say it.”

“Over.”

“Remember the word. Use it if you need to.”

“I will, Sir.”

“Then I take you as my property, to protect, to guide, to nourish, to enrich in all ways.” He opened up the jewelry case and removed the collar. It was a spectacular Art Deco-style silver necklace designed by a well-known lifestyle jeweler. One brilliant oval sapphire gleamed in the bold, segmented geometric design. The whole piece was lined with a soft synthetic leather so it would never chafe her.

She stared at the collar with large gray eyes, liquid with unshed tears.

“This collar is a symbol of our commitment. Do not remove it without cause.” He fixed the collar around her neck.

She stroked the necklace with trembling fingers. “It’s beautiful, Sir.”

The collar
was
beautiful, sitting just below her collarbones. The deep blue stone sparkled with life. Just like Allie herself.

He kissed her lips softly. “You are now mine.” He drew her up by her upper arms, until they stood face to face. This woman was worthy in all ways. “Undress,” he said. “I wish to inspect my property.”

She practically ripped off her clothing. Within seconds, she stood before him, naked save for the necklace. She smiled up at him with her head held high, proud of being owned, happy to be a woman.

She was his woman. Desire blasted through his groin.

His gaze held her lovely face, slid down to linger on her full breasts, then down to her stomach. He caught sight of a glint of silver at her belly.

He was not pleased.

He gently fingered the belly ring. “Has this healed?”

“No. Not completely.”

“I’ll let you keep it. You will ask my permission before you modify this body. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, gulping air. “I…I guess I thought it made me look sexy.”

He drew his forefinger down from the ring, over her smooth mound, to rest on her sweetly pulsing divide. Her body quivered in response.

“This is what makes you sexy. Your body open to me. Exposed and willing. Not mutilation.” He drew away from her. “Now run to my closet and pick out four ties.”

She hurried off and returned with four striped silks. Taking her by the hand, he led her to stand near the treadmill. He punched in a gentle incline. The deck shifted. He studied the treadmill, considering the angle and what he planned to do with her. He added a few more degrees of incline, then unplugged the machine.

“Step up onto the deck,” he said. “Turn around, back up, until your body touches the console.”

She did as she was told, her mouth curled up into a smile.

With great care, he fixed her to his makeshift dungeon equipment. He bound her wrists to the jutting padded rails with the silk ties. He tied her ankles to the frame. She never took her eyes off him.

When he was finished, her legs were spread wide, her back barely touching the edge of the console. Her arms were flexed, her forearms resting on the rails.

Delicious. It just might work.

Her naked body now trembled with anticipation.

“Are you afraid?” he asked.

“No.”

She was lying, of course. But it was a small lie, one intended to calm herself, so that she might surrender to him completely. She was also aroused. Her nipples were already puckered and swollen. She was a woman who loved bondage.

He stepped up onto the deck.

Reaching around her hips to scoop her ripe ass, he feathered her nose, her cheeks, her eyelids with light kisses. Her bound body curved into his. Her soft skin, her scent, her eagerness made his erection flourish. His tongue made a gentle loop over her lips. Her mouth opened to his, hot and seeking. He inhaled her, taking her tongue into his mouth and stroking. She responded in kind.

He finally broke the kiss and nibbled her lips, tasting. His mouth trailed down to her chin. He bit it gently and she sighed with pleasure. Was there anything she didn’t like?

He intended to explore this extraordinary creature at his leisure. Unlike the night in her office, he was fully in control. Weighing her luscious breasts in his hands, he made her gasp softly. Her breasts were warm, her nipples rigid. Her body was giving, arching.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, sliding his thumbs over her furled nubs. She stopped breathing.

He grazed his hands down the sides of her body, over her silken skin, making her shiver. She was extraordinarily responsive. He savored every sound she made, every gasp, every panting breath.

His hands glided along the sensitive curve of her back.

“Ohhh,” she moaned.

Still working her back, marveling at her reactions, he asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“No,” she gasped, her eyes dark with desire. “I’ll die if you don’t untie me. I have to pull your cock into me. I need to wrap my entire body around you.”

He dipped a finger gently over her pulsing clit.

“Oh, yes, Sir. Right there.”

He stroked her swollen folds. She ground her hips against his finger. He slid over her slick center, back and forth, until she hovered at the edge of climax. He pulled back.

“I’m your sexual engine, Allie,” he whispered into her ear. “Your ecstasy starts and stops with me. This exquisite heat is mine and mine alone. Never take your own pleasure.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Her hips pumped against air, her bound body crazed.

He started up again, caressing her hot core. She undulated against him, her full breasts swaying, her stomach trembling. She moaned, beyond words now. He felt a savage thrill stoking her sexual hunger into a raging fire and then depriving her of completion.