Never Let You Down: The Connaghers, Book 4 (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Standing off to the side of the podium, Jeb tried to look everywhere but the crowd. He’d planned to wear his best suit for the occasion, but his agent had convinced him at the last minute to wear a nice but simple pair of black jeans, an outrageous pair of boots he’d bought in Dallas on the way to the airport, and, of course, the fancy Serratelli hat.

“Just keep it simple,” he muttered under his breath. “You only need to say a few words.”

Nerves gnawed away at him like nasty, starving rats. He touched his talisman, the ancient engagement ring he’d been carrying around with him all these years. He’d tucked it in his pocket without the box, unable to face making a speech if he didn’t have it close, where he could touch it and imagine that someday, she might be sitting in the audience clapping for him. While she wore his ring.

“And the winner in the erotic category:
The Lady Always Gets Her Man
by Chris Waters!”

Applause echoed in the large room. He put on his biggest smile and strode up the steps to the podium. Then because he was playing the part of the dashing Ransom Savage, he took the host’s hand, bowed low and kissed her knuckles. Smiling at the audience’s roaring approval, he accepted the award and turned his attention to the crowd.

In the front row, directly in front of the podium, sat Victorious Raynes, the legend herself.

He could only stare at Virginia and wonder how she’d gotten there. How she’d known. And she looked…

She wore a long red wig, the wild mane of curls just like his book cover. A white satin corset hefted her breasts and cinched around her middle so tightly he might be able to span her waist with his hands. A long-sleeved poet’s blouse in soft pink covered her injured arm and made her look soft and feminine without being too frilly. Instead of jeans, she wore black jodhpurs and shiny knee high riding boots with the pink parasol laid across her lap.

In her right hand, she gripped a riding crop. He could only assume it was the very same one she’d used on Ty for more than twenty years.

Her eyes were soft and full of longing, shining as brightly as when she’d ever spoken about her husband, while she still managed to give Jeb the hardest, most intent look she’d ever given him. The kind of look that said
you’re mine and I’m going to do whatever the hell I want with you and you’re going to love every minute of it.

The kind of look he’d been aching to see in her eyes his whole life.

The longer he stared, the more people turned to see what had captured his attention. The whispers rose, spreading across the room, and some savvy cameraman took note and turned the camera on her. As soon as her image appeared on the large screen behind him instead of the book’s cover, applause broke out again, louder and wilder. She smiled at him and it was all he could do not to jump down off the podium, scoop her up and carry her to his room.

He held up both hands, which only made it look like he was surrendering to her custody. The crowd only laughed and clapped more. Smiling and shaking his head, he kept his hands up. “Thank you, everyone. I’m honored to be here today…”

“We want Victorious!” someone shouted from the crowd, and they took it up as a chant, calling her name.

She met his gaze and raised her eyebrow, silently asking if he wanted her to join him, with a little nod to confirm she was willing.

She’s willing to attach herself to me in public. In the guise of a character from my book. Knowing what people will think. What they’ll know as soon as they see the way I look at her. And she’s willing to do it anyway.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said hoarsely, gripping the edge of the podium to keep from falling to his knees here in front of everyone. “As you’ve noticed, we have a very special guest with us today. My…” He wanted to say fiancée but he didn’t have the right to commit her like that when he hadn’t the balls to ask her yet. Best friend? True, but it didn’t come close to conveying the depth of his feelings for her. His Dominant, yes, but she might not want him to make such an announcement. He could only picture Sharon’s reaction if he’d called his professional Mistress up on the stage and identified her in public.

Virginia gave him another nod, but more, she lifted the crop slightly and brought it down across her thighs. Not a blow, but a signal. That she was in control. Of him. Of everything.

His breath sighed out, his anxiety melting away into complete surety. “My Mistress and Domme in the guise of Victorious Raynes herself.”

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Virginia stood. Drawing out the performance, she tucked the crop under her left armpit and switched the parasol to her right. With a flourish, she popped it open and propped it on her shoulder, casually strolling up on stage with him, oblivious to the clapping audience, the shouts, the cameras.

Oblivious to everything but him.

He stepped aside from the podium to meet her at the stairs, taking her hand and bending down so he could hear her over the applause.

“You made me borrow Miss Belle’s parasol.” Smiling for the crowd, she took his arm and let him lead her back to the podium. “For that, I’m going to punish you. Severely.”

His breath stilled, his mind wiped completely blank. Punishment. Was she finally going to admit her full need to him? And then allow him to satisfy it?

The crowd finally quieted, but he couldn’t speak. His mouth wouldn’t work. His brain was mush. All he wanted…

“Such a warm welcome for such a feisty, troublesome heroine!” Virginia adjusted the microphone down to her height. “She’s always getting into trouble, isn’t she? But what I liked most about Victorious is that she never depends on her men to come to her rescue. In fact, she rescues them both, not just from the Specter, but from the dark demons they carry inside. I can’t even begin to convey how honored and excited I am that Chris’s book has won this award. He’s an incredible man. A man who has never turned away from my demons, no matter how dark they are.” She turned to him and began clapping, stepping back to let him speak.

His fingers were trembling, but he somehow managed to jam his hand down into his jeans pocket. “Forty plus years ago, I fell in love with my best friend. It wasn’t meant to be at the time, and circumstances kept us apart for most of our lives. But I’ve carried this hope with me always, praying that maybe someday I’d be in the position to offer it at last.”

Turning to Virginia, he pulled the ring out and went down on his knees. Both of them. “Will you marry me, Ginny?”

Solemnly, she held out her left hand, free of a sling but still encased in a light fiberglass cast. The ring caught on her knuckle, giving him a moment of sheer terror that he’d gotten the size wrong all those years ago, but he finally managed to get it on her finger despite his shaking hands.

“Is that a yes?” the host asked over the loudspeaker. The crowd was silent, waiting for her answer.

Virginia tipped his hat backward, letting it tumble off his head to roll around on the stage. She buried her fingers in his hair, roughing it up and dragging the front down into his eyes. Then she stepped up against him and draped her casted arm over his shoulder. “Yes.”

When she planted her mouth over his, the crowd roared their approval.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Virginia had never been to a readers’ conference before. She could certainly see why people would come back year after year, reuniting with old friends, chatting with favorite authors in the casual yet loud and overflowing bars. But not when what she wanted to do most of all was finally get her man alone.
Just me and my crop.

Unfortunately, her little stunt had made Jeb one of the most sought after authors in attendance. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to the stupid parasol she still carried and fans flocked everywhere they went asking for an autograph. Even hers! And the damned fool insisted she sign those books too, with at least a swirly V.
Ridiculous. They’re his books. Victorious is
his
character.

She lifted her left arm, hooking it over her right to give her weakened muscles a break. Despite the people still clamoring about him, Jeb noticed and started the extraction process.

“I’ll be at the signing tomorrow. I’m not sure if Victorious will be there or not. She was in a serious car accident recently and needs to rest.”

She allowed fatigue to show on her face in a tired, pained smile, cradling her arm more openly. It really was holding up quite well without the sling, but she could definitely tell she’d overdone it, and nothing got Jeb moving faster with more determination than when he thought she was hurt.

Immediately, he wrapped his arm around her and moved away from the crowd more forcefully, still polite but not letting anything distract him from retreating to his room. “Please, excuse us.”

Finally they made their way onto the elevator and Jeb selected his floor. “How bad’s your arm?”

“Not bad,” she said lightly, not looking at him for fear she might plaster him up against the wall before they could get to his room. “I’m still getting used to the new cast. Vicki came with me to help with the costume, so I can stop by later and pick up my sling. Her room’s on the twelfth floor.”

He too stared straight ahead until they could exit on his floor. “Chaperone?”

“Costume manager. It would have been a lot easier if you’d created a character that didn’t wear a corset.”

He laughed, reaching into his conference badge to find his room card. “But it provides for such a gorgeous view.”

Evidently he made the mistake of partaking in that view, because then he fumbled the card and almost dropped it before he could open the door.

“Gorgeous view my ass.” As soon as the door swung shut, she tossed Miss Belle’s parasol in the corner. “It took her an hour to lace me into this thing and I was afraid I was going to be late.”

“Well, your ass is a gorgeous view as well, but I definitely do like that corset.” He moved deeper into the room, setting his badge on the desk. He removed his hat. Then he hesitated, his gaze immediately coming to hers so he could decide what she wanted next. Did she want him stripped for punishment? Or sex? Or nothing at all if she was really that tired and hurt?

That earnest look of need—to figure out what she wanted before she could ask—moved her so much she had to swallow the lump in her throat so she could speak. “I said I was going to punish you for making me carry that damned parasol, but I changed my mind.”

His face fell and he looked down at the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

He didn’t protest. He didn’t argue. It wasn’t in his nature. Keeping her voice soft, she said, “Instead, I’m going to punish you for not telling me how important this weekend was for you.”

His head jerked up, his eyes lighting up with hope. No anxiety, no worry, no hesitation whatsoever. She had a feeling he wouldn’t protest even if she tried to beat him senseless.
Which is exactly my fear.

“I didn’t know if you would care.”

She pointedly lifted her left hand, flashing his ring that she wore. “I care. You will tell me everything going on in your life. Your hopes. Your dreams. If you have a need that I can address, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, you have an obligation to voice it. And if it’s a major event or accomplishment? I have a right to know so that I can be there and celebrate with you.”

“I have a need that you haven’t yet addressed.”

Nodding, she sat down on the foot of his bed and laid the crop across her lap. “So do I. The problem is that I wasn’t recognizing how significant that need was becoming until it was too late.”

His eyes flickered with confusion. “But you said you’d been hurting yourself to get by.”

“I was. But when it came time to share that need with another, I didn’t know
how
to approach it. When I was with Ty, he would deliberately antagonize me to the point of fury. Then I’d lay into him with whatever I had at hand. That release of furious violence was exactly what he wanted, and I got used to responding that way. I never had to pick up my crop and tell him I wanted to hurt him. He made me too mad to
not
hurt him.

“You, on the other hand, will never deliberately make me that mad. You’re not going to antagonize me to help me realize I need to release the anger. It’s going to be an adjustment for me to consciously think about and accept that need. I need to hurt something. Regularly. For years, it’s been myself. It’s going to take time to shift that need onto someone else without worrying too much about their wellbeing.”

More confident, he came over to kneel in front of her, dropping his hands to her knees. “I can take it, Ginny. Don’t be afraid of hurting me.”

“Oh, Jeb, I know you
can
endure me, but why should I want to hurt you so badly when I love you so very much?”

The look on his face was priceless. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and he gripped her knees fiercely. “Will you repeat that, please?”

She cupped his cheek and leaned forward to whisper the words against his mouth. “I love you. I’ve loved you in some fashion my whole life, even if I wasn’t able to admit or show it.”

He didn’t let her kiss him, but dropped his head against her lap and wrapped his arms around her. “God, that sounds so good. I’ve waited so long. I’m going to want you to say it a lot. As often as you can stomach being so sappy and affectionate.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, though she tried to force some irritation into her voice. “What do you mean? Aren’t I sappy and affectionate all the time?”

“As cuddly as a grizzly bear.”

Her laughter eased and she combed her fingers through his hair. Once she’d been as mean and hungry as a bear after hibernating all winter. Only her hibernation had lasted for years and years. “This bear’s damned hungry for you, Jebadiah Garrett. You’d best help me out of this corset so I can feast.”

Of course, Jeb, being the sweet, tender caregiver that he was, refused to let her get busy until he went personally to her daughter’s room and fetched the sling to make sure her weakened arm was fully supported. That gave her time to look around the simple hotel room while she stripped out of the rest of her costume and decided how she was going to punish him.

Comfort for them both was a priority—that floor looked mighty hard for his older knees—but she also wanted it to be memorable. She didn’t care to use a lot of equipment. A crop, whip, sometimes a rope or whatever could be found in the stable—that had always been Ty’s preference. From the beginning, the stable had been important to them both and it was where they felt the most at home.

Jeb might have been an animal lover and he’d certainly wrangled plenty of ornery beasts in his lifetime, but he wasn’t a rough and tumble cowboy who liked hay stabbing his privates while she whipped his back. Besides, she wasn’t all that interested in his back.

Not that he had a bad back, by any means, all broad muscles and manly strength. But as he helped her adjust the sling to hold her injured arm, it was his back
side
that held her fancy.

Ty had been a long, tall beanstalk with wide shoulders and narrow, slim hips. She’d joked that he needed a cushion for his cushion because he didn’t have any padding of his own. Whacking his ass would have been like hitting a tree trunk.

Jeb wasn’t quite as tall, but he was thick and solid. His thighs were particularly muscular, and his buttocks were quite the enjoyable handful.

Once her arm was secure, she stood up and gave that ass a long, considering look. “I’ve got a hankering for prime beef steak.”

It made him laugh, even though his cheeks darkened at the same time. “I don’t know about prime, but I’m definitely aged.”

She pointed at the stack of pillows she’d prepared at the foot of the bed. “Have you ever been whipped with a crop before?”

He leaned down over the pillows, adjusting them until he was comfortable, supported, with his ass nice and high. “No, ma’am.”

Just watching him get into position made her palms sweat, her heart accelerating. Yet she frowned and fought down the anticipation threatening to consume her better sense. “The crop has a hard, sharp bite, Jeb. What do you have experience with? It might be best to start with something else, though I don’t—”

“I want the crop,” he broke in, his voice hard despite his vulnerable position. “You gave it to Ty. Don’t deny me.”

“Ty was a masochist. You’re not.”

“Try me before you decide. I want to know, Ginny. I want to feel what you gave him all those years. If it’s not for me, we’ll do something different next time.”

She blew out a sigh.
One time.
“If it hurts too much…”

“Try me,” he repeated, his voice rumbling lower. She couldn’t see the evidence since he was on his belly, but she could hear the growing arousal in his voice.

“What’s your safe word?”

“I’ve only ever used red before.”

Simple and to the point. “All right. Red. I expect you to use it if you need me to stop, Jeb. I mean it. If I can’t trust you to stop me, I won’t ever do this again.”

She hadn’t even hit him yet and his skin already tingled. Just from having her look at him with wicked intent.

His mind still couldn’t quite wrap around the fact that she was here. That all of his dreams were coming true. She’d agreed to marry him. She’d come to see him accept an award and wasn’t upset that once upon a time he’d based a character on her. She’d even read his book. That alone was enough to make him gape like an idiot. His ex-wife had never read a single one of his books in twenty-plus years of marriage.

Virginia stepped up behind him and gave him a light swat on his buttock with her palm. “Let’s just warm up the skin first, see how you respond.”

He closed his eyes and sank into the simple pleasure of having her touch him. The gentle slaps heated his skin and made his heartbeat quicken, but it wasn’t alarming in any way. It was embarrassing to be in such an exposed position, but he didn’t mind it for her. That was part of what he needed. He needed her to put him where she wanted him, do what she wanted, take what she needed.

Gripping one cheek, she gave him a good, hard squeeze that made a small sound escape his mouth. Her hands were so incredibly strong, especially for a woman. Like she’d milked cows by hand her entire life.

“That sound,” she whispered, squeezing him again. “I’ve missed it.”

If that was the case, he’d groan himself hoarse, flimsy hotel walls be damned.
As long as I can make it a sexy groan and not the oh-holy-shit moan that makes her stop.

She tickled his back with the crop, trailing the triangular head across his skin. “It’s the sounds you make that will tell me where to linger and when to move on. Do you know where your sweet spot is?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I like it better when you call me Ginny. It’s less formal. I don’t want formality between us.”

“Ginny,” he whispered, arching his back to lift his ass higher. “I don’t know that I have a sweet spot. Discipline was something to be endured. Not enjoyed. But I’ll enjoy your crop just because it’s you.”

“We’ll see.” A grim edge crept into her voice. “You’d better be honest with me.”

“I couldn’t lie to you. You’d see it. You’d know it. My face would betray me before I could even get the words out.”

“Good. Just let your body talk to me.”

The crop tapped down to his buttocks and over his balls, just a whisper of leather that made him shudder. She stepped to the side, giving herself room to work, and he found himself mesmerized as she warmed up. Even with one arm in a sling, her lean, tight body spoke of the coiled, lethal power of a predator. Muscles glided under her skin, her breasts and the slight curve of her stomach and hips the only softness on her. Except for her eyes when she looked up into his face.

“Ready?”

He nodded, unable to trust his words not to sound too desperate.
Yes, please, yes, take me, use me, give me everything you’ve got. Please!

She popped the crop against his right buttock. The snap made him hop, his eyes flaring with the shock of it. Damn, it was loud, louder than he expected. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it did feel like a bite. She flicked several little bites back and forth across his buttocks and he started to relax into it. The small pains blended together, fading away as quickly as she gave them.

“I can do this with a whip, too, but it’s pretty intimidating in the beginning. I can dance the tip up and down your back all day and barely make you twitch. But one screw up and you could bleed in a heartbeat.”

He glanced back over his shoulder at her. “I don’t mind blood.”

Her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowed, and she almost looked away. She almost hid that secret from him. He kept his gaze steady and open, silently begging.
Don’t turn away. Don’t hide. Don’t be afraid to show me everything.

She must have sensed his silent urging because she blew out a long sigh and took a slightly different swing so the crop landed flatter across his buttock instead of just the tip hitting. The solid crack jolted through him, definitely slicing through his complacency. “I don’t mind blood either. In fact, it can be quite a turn on. Even if the evidence makes me feel bad later.”

The evidence. Bruises. Welts. Cuts. Things that took days to heal. He closed his eyes and let out a sound that he hoped she didn’t mistake for fear. He wanted her marks more than anything. He wanted to be able to see the evidence of her love on his body. To be able to look at his skin and remember every moment. Bruises would be proof that she had taken complete and utter control of him.