OnLocation (5 page)

It was Gallagher, not Kyle who entered the kitchen a few
minutes later. She tried to hide her disappointment. She wasn’t attracted to
him and she didn’t even like him much, but he was still a person and deserved
some measure of empathy. She tried on a smile. “Would you mind taking these to
the table?” She handed him a couple of salad bowls full of lettuce, spinach,
croutons and mandarin oranges.

Gallagher shrugged and took the bowls. “Sure. Thought you
weren’t cooking.”

“You’re on for tomorrow,” she said, nodding at the schedule
and then the pen.

“Right.” He looked at the pen. “Hands are full.” He walked
the bowls to the table but didn’t pick up the pen when he came back either. He
did get the third bowl at least. “He’s watching cricket.”

“Oh. Was your show over?”

“Yeah, but there was another one I wanted to watch. I sure
as hell didn’t want to watch cricket. Apparently there’s some really
important,” he made air quotes “test match between Australia and England. It’s
like baseball, but more dull. At least baseball doesn’t have tests.”

“I like baseball.” Maybe after dinner she could cuddle up
with Kyle and let him explain cricket to her. Men usually loved to explain
things and even if he wasn’t the cuddling type she thought she could persuade
him.

Gallagher shrugged. “You probably like dull, then.”

She resisted the temptation to stick out her tongue at him,
and placed the tuna steaks on the skillet she had heated. “It was nice of you
to let him watch his game,” she said tactfully.

“Yeah, well, I got the impression from his stare that he
might cut my throat if I didn’t. I don’t think you know what you’re getting
into, Terry.”

She blinked and looked over at him, touched by his concern
until she saw that his gaze was fixed on a part of her body at least a foot
lower than her face. He wasn’t concerned, he was just bad-mouthing the
competition. “You never had a chance, and never will,” she said. “Let him know
dinner will be in ten minutes.”

She was worried Kyle wouldn’t want to come away from his
cricket match for dinner, but instead he sat down and attacked the food with
gusto. “This is good,” he told her.

She had the impression that he had hadn’t expected it to be.
“Um, thank you.”

“All that, and you can cook too.” He grinned.

“Not bad, Terry,” Gallagher said.

“Thanks.” She turned to Kyle. “Sorry to take you away from
your cricket.”

Kyle chuckled. “It goes on for a while. I enjoy catching
bits, but I don’t need to see the whole thing every time.”

“I’ll let you two chat,” said Gallagher, picking up his
plate. He hadn’t touched his salad. He headed toward the living room and Terry
heard the television go on a moment later.

After a moment of silence that she found awkward, but which
Kyle seemed perfectly at ease with, she decided to try to start a conversation.
“I don’t know anything about you, really, do I?”

“No.” Kyle smiled, but didn’t elaborate.

“Um, what do you do for a living?”

“I don’t. I have a little stashed away and I own part of an
island.”

“Independently wealthy, then.”

“I earned what I have. And independently well enough off. I
don’t need to own a yacht and an airplane.”

“What did you used to do?”

“I was in the SAS.” His eyes darkened.

“What’s that?”

Kyle frowned. “Look it up sometime if you want to know more.
I don’t want to talk about it.”

She stared at him. “You’d rather I just showed up at nine
o’clock to be your sex toy and shut up in the meantime, wouldn’t you?”

“That depends entirely on what you want to talk about,
Teresa.”

She didn’t feel like playing twenty questions with him. A
big chunk of his life seemed to be off-limits. But wasn’t that what she’d told
herself she wanted? No strings attached, just a kinky fling with a dark and
dangerous man whom she wouldn’t see again after a week.

She ate her food in silence. Kyle had signed up to do the
cleanup after dinner, which was fine with her. Maybe cuddling and watching a
boring foreign sport wasn’t a good way to spend the evening after all. She took
her plate and silverware to the kitchen, set them down at the sink and headed
back through the dining room to the living room. She could go out and take some
pictures of the island at night, which would get her away from both men.

The television was still on and she’d expected Gallagher to
be seated at it but he wasn’t. The sliding door to the pool was open a crack so
she looked outside; maybe he was swimming, although he seemed to avoid any
unnecessary physical exercise. He wasn’t there, so he was probably out in the
jungle somewhere or at the cove at the far end. Maybe he was taking more video.
She didn’t want to work on her report, but she didn’t want to run into
Gallagher in the dark either, so she headed upstairs.
Maybe a nice long bath
would do me some good.
She got to her room and started unbraiding her hair.

* * * * *

Terry looked up from her email. She’d ended up working and,
along with what she had found for places to shoot, she had sent Stegner her
opinion that they could do better than Fleury Island for the Odysseus movie,
although it would make a lovely location for something else. She’d gotten back
an email that thanked her for her input, but they were going to shoot on the
island anyway and the penteconter was already being towed on its way. She was
steamed.
Why am I here?

As a result, she almost didn’t notice that it was 8:50, even
though she’d been thinking about Kyle regularly since she’d gone upstairs. She
was supposed to show up at Kyle’s door at nine, but he’d said something about
dropping off clothes for her to wear for their “date”. Ten minutes or even ten
seconds to his room wasn’t going to be a problem, but if she had to get dressed
for it too that was another matter. She opened her door and saw a box there as
he’d promised. She was tempted to ignore it. He was the most arrogant man she’d
ever met. She picked up the box and put it on the bed, aware that she was
wasting time.

I should tell him that I’m not going to follow his every
whim. That I’m not willing to be punished when I’ve done nothing wrong.
But
she knew she wasn’t going to do any such thing. She wanted his hands on her
again so much she could feel them. Which was crazy. He wasn’t even
nice
,
for god’s sake.
That
he had in common with all those bad boys she’d
dated before.

But he’d been focused on what she was feeling—her pleasure
or pain—and not his own. And that was very different indeed. There was
something more to Kyle. And she wanted to find out what it was.

She opened the box.

She breathed in the scent of leather. Inside were four
matching black cuffs with big steel rings dangling from each one, and nothing
else.

If he thought she was going to walk across the hall and
knock on his door naked, he had another think coming. What if Gallagher showed
up? She gritted her teeth. Of course he would punish her for not obeying
directions exactly. That was probably the point.

She relaxed. It was a game, that was all.

She heard footsteps out in the hall, although she couldn’t
tell which man they belonged to. She put the cuffs around her wrist. It would
be embarrassing enough to be caught with the cuffs on, even if she was clothed.
Although she could try to cover them. She buckled the cuffs around her ankles
and pulled her jeans down over them. She unbuttoned the cuff of her shirt and rebuttoned
it over the leather restraints on her wrists.

Satisfied she looked normal enough, she picked up her cell
phone and looked at the time. Eight fifty-nine. Cutting it close. She got up
and opened the door, relieved to find the hall empty. She ran to Kyle’s door
and knocked.

He opened the door. He wore tight leather jeans and a scowl.
She wanted to rub her hands all over his lightly furry chest and feel the
muscles underneath her fingers. His face stopped her cold.

“I’ll take them off when I’m inside,” she said hurriedly.

“No, you won’t. You’ll learn to trust me instead.” He
stepped back and closed the door. She stuck her foot out to stop it. He forced
it away with his and shut the door anyway.

Her heart pounded. Did he expect her to strip right there?
She’d done it at the pool, but she’d known that there was pretty much no way
Gallagher would be awake. At nine there was no way he’d be in bed. It had to be
him she’d heard in the hall too—Kyle would have been getting ready for her
arrival. So he was probably in his room. He’d probably heard her knock on the
door. Maybe he’d listened to the conversation. If so, he hadn’t heard much. At
least Kyle hadn’t told her to take her clothes off in any way someone else
would understand.

Trust him, Kyle had said. What did this have to do with
trusting him? It wasn’t Kyle she was worried about, it was Gallagher.
Dammit.

She turned to walk back to her room, frustrated.

There was a clattering downstairs and it took her a moment
to realize it was something pounding on the glass door. Something big.
Some
huge thing from the jungle
, she thought for a moment before remembering
there were no huge things in the jungle. The island was too small to support
that sort of thing, and Kyle said it was safe. The only thing that could be in
the jungle to pound on the door was Gallagher.

Kyle had locked him out.

She should have trusted him. She supposed that she should
let poor Gallagher in, but instead she unbuttoned her blouse and shucked off
her jeans and panties. She took off her bra, wishing she’d gotten her underwear
off in the room. She could have followed directions that much, at least, even
if she hadn’t wanted to be seen. Kyle would be mad at her. She ran back to her
room, tossed the clothes in the general direction of the bed and ran back to
knock on Kyle’s door.

He opened the door and chuckled. “A bit late to get full
credit,” he said. “But I’ll punish you for being late instead. It’s four
minutes after.” He stepped back. “Come in and kneel on the bed until I get
back. I need to let your friend in the house.”

She walked in and knelt on the bed, knees together, her body
bent forward. He seemed amused at the moment, where she’d expected anger, but
she felt better off looking at her knees.

“No. Not that way. Head up.” He moved toward her instead of
leaving to go downstairs, and pushed her into compliance with a nudge under the
chin. “Back straight. Chest out.”

She straightened, blushing at the display he was forcing her
to make of herself. But the look of appreciation in his eyes was reward enough.
He liked her curves despite her few extra pounds.

“Legs apart,” he ordered. She moved them a few inches. He
grabbed them and gently pushed them farther, past the point he needed to expose
her. She felt her thighs stretch.

“That hurts.”

He grinned. “You think I don’t know that? It will hurt more
while you wait, but I think I’ll be back before you have to break position.
Make me proud.” He turned, and a moment later she was alone in the room.

Terry looked around. It was a neat room, which she didn’t
expect from a man. Certainly not the man who’d casually tossed clothes beside
the pool. But every drawer was shut and there were no clothes on the floor.
There weren’t even piles of dust in the corner. Perhaps he had cleaned for her,
but there was something else about the room that struck her. The bed was a
four-poster, with crossbeams on the top that could have supported a canopy. The
wood, however, was all square, varnished but without any adornment, as if he’d
made it himself. She wasn’t particularly shocked to find eye bolts in the wood,
or to see chains clasps dangling from the bolts, but they made her shiver.

The bed was made simply and neatly, with olive-green cotton
sheets tucked into hospital corners, and matching pillowcases. He hadn’t done
that for her, although possibly he normally left it undone. The chests of
drawers and the nightstand had a similar appearance, all function with no
attention to form. There were three photographs on the dresser. One was of four
men in fatigues, one of whom was Kyle. It had been taken in some barren land
and they were all crowded together to fit in the frame, grinning in obvious
camaraderie, although their uniforms didn’t quite match. The other two were of
breathtakingly beautiful women, one blonde and one brunette, in evening
dresses. She must look very plain compared to them.

I could break position. I’d hear him coming and could get
back to it. There’s no reason for my thighs to ache like this.
But she
didn’t, even though the pictures of the women wounded her.

He opened the door so softly she almost didn’t hear him, and
was immediately glad she hadn’t moved. But she couldn’t resist nodding at the
pictures.
Sound casual. Don’t act jealous.
“Girlfriends?” she asked.

He looked where she was looking and frowned. “No. Those are
my sisters. Karla is a lawyer in Melbourne. Kimberly is a doctor in Sydney.
These photos were taken of them at a reception for the prime minister a few
years ago. They’ve done quite well for themselves.” As she was watching Kyle,
his expression changed. He was proud of them. This was the second time he’d
told her what they did. “Not that it’s any of your business,” he added.

His stepped between her and the pictures, and she became
aware again of her nakedness and the way the position exposed her. Her legs
ached, as he’d said they would, but she had managed to keep them apart. Now she
wanted to close them for more reasons than one. She didn’t know what she was
supposed to do with her hands now that he was here, but she was pretty sure
that she wasn’t supposed to use them to cover herself. She tried to remind
herself that he’d seen it all before, but his gaze was so intense it was hard
to be casual about it.

He reached behind her and grabbed her hair. She wondered if
he liked it loose or if he preferred the braid. The braid probably made it more
grabbable. “Your body is beautiful, Teresa.” He ran his other hand over her
shoulder, down her arm, the side of his hand brushing the side of her breast.
“I’m going to play with your body. I’m going to use you for my pleasure. I will
use you so hard you will feel it for days.”

She gulped, even as she felt her pussy tingle. His hand
glided upward from her knee. If he reached between her legs she knew he would
find her wet and assume she wanted what he was offering. Which she did. She
just wasn’t sure it was safe to let him know that. She fluttered her hands,
wanting to move them in the way.

“Clasp your hands behind your back,” he told her.

She did, thankful not to have to try to figure that out
anymore, and became instantly conscious of how doing so pushed her chest out.
He’d probably known it would.

He moved his hand along her side, cupping a breast and
weighing it in his hands. Clearly he liked what he felt and saw. With
reluctance, he met her eyes again. “You came without permission. And you were
late. You’re going to have to be punished, Teresa. Do you accept your
punishment?”

But I didn’t do anything wrong. Well, maybe I didn’t do
quite what he asked.
She was staring into his eyes, feeling every
millisecond as he waited for an answer.
His rules or my rules. That’s what
it comes down to.

“May I ask a question, Sir?”

He smiled. “I see you’re remembering your manners again.
Yes, you may ask a question, little sub. Is it pertinent to your answer?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Then ask away.”

“Will you enjoy punishing me, Sir?”

She’d startled him. She could see it in his eyes. Had no one
ever asked that question of him before?

“Yes, I will.”

“Then yes, Sir, I accept my punishment.”
Even if it’s
kneeling this way.
Every time she thought she was getting used to the ache
in her thighs, she found the position harder to maintain. Being open to him,
however, was getting easier and easier. The look of lust in his eyes as he
gazed on her body was reward enough for that.

“Good. I have something in mind, of course.” He stood up and
reached out a hand to her. “Get up, please.”

She nodded and unfolded her legs, relieved to get them out
of that position. He helped her up. With his hand on her waist, he guided her
to stand facing the end of the bed. When he chained her wrist to the bolt on
one of the posts, she suddenly got afraid. She’d been expecting something like
this, but it didn’t entirely help. She was going to be helpless with a man
who’d promised to make her hurt. His observations that she was at his mercy
just by being on the island may have made perfect sense, but the
clink
of chain brought it home to her viscerally. She pulled on the chain, which was
pointless. All it did was
clank
. When he reached out for her other
wrist, she jerked it away.

To her surprise, he took a step back. She realized she could
reach with her free hand and unclasp her chained one rather easily. He said
nothing.

She took a deep breath and then turned to face him. “I’m
scared.” She felt less scared when she took in the expression on his face. He
wasn’t angry the way she expected, or at least he wasn’t showing it. He seemed
calm, relaxed. It was comforting.

“I can tell. If I hold you, will that make it better or
worse?”

That was easy, although the answer would have been different
if he’d been mad. “Better.”

He moved to her and held her against him. She was glad he
wasn’t wearing much. The warmth of his skin against her felt wonderful and
right. She wrapped her one free hand around him. “Thank you,” she said. He kept
on holding her. She took several deep breaths before saying, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

He nodded and let go. For a moment there was a flicker of
sadness in his eyes. “No need to be sorry,” he said. “And good job remembering
your manners.”

She turned back to face the bed, flattered by his praise but
not sure why it meant so much to her. She didn’t feel she could voice her
consent without tripping over the words, but hopefully he would understand. She
reached her free hand toward the bolt on the other bedpost. He clipped her
wrist cuff to the chain.

“What are you going to do to me, Sir?”

“Whatever I want,” he said.

She tensed, even though on one level she loved that answer.
“Keep me safe?”

“Of course. I want that too. I insist on it.”

The fierceness of his voice reassured her. He crouched down
behind her and tapped on the inside of her ankle. She moved her feet apart. He
chained each ankle to the frame of the bed. She had wiggle room, especially for
her hands, and that surprised her. She expected him to render her immobile and
he certainly could have with shorter lengths of chain. Maybe this was all he
had. She took a look at the chain on one wrist and decided otherwise, seeing
that there were several links dangling free. He could make them as tight as he
wanted, depending on where he put the clasp.

“Are you going to spank me?”

“Maybe.”

“Flog me?” She’d enjoyed the flogger well enough. She was
looking forward to more of that.

“Maybe.” He came into her line of sight again as he walked
over to his chest of drawers. She noticed how defined his shoulder blades were.
He looked good in tight leather pants too.

He took a flogger out of the drawer. The handle had an
intricately braided knot at the end made of leather straps. It was longer and
heavier looking than the one in her room, and black. Still, she thought she
could take it. It wasn’t that much different. Her pussy moistened further at
the thought of him using it on her. Maybe this wouldn’t feel like punishment
after all.

The flogger landed on the bed. “
That
is a reward,” he
said as if he read her thoughts. He pulled out a riding crop and set it next to
the flogger. “This one might be punishment. We will see.”

She gulped. She didn’t know how it would feel, but that was
part of the problem. She didn’t know. If he thought it was worse, it probably
was.

He took one more thing from the drawer before closing it,
but it was small and she couldn’t see what it was. He held it in his fist as he
walked behind her again. She turned her head to look at him.

“Face front,” he said.

She turned away reluctantly. She hated not knowing. Her
heart pounded.

“Close your eyes.”

Dammit. She closed them. A moment later she felt something
pressing on them and then tied around her head. A blindfold. She’d had a scarf
tied around her once, and she’d been able to see a little light through that,
and one boyfriend had put a blindfold on her but if she tilted her head she
could see under it. She couldn’t do that this time. It was very dark.

He touched her back. She’d decided to trust him. In some
ways not seeing was worse than being chained, even though she didn’t
need
to see. She took a careful, deep breath and then another. He waited until she’d
calmed down before moving his hand.

His footfalls receded. It sounded like he was at the same
place as before. Pulling open a drawer. Taking things from it. He’d wanted her
to see the flogger and the crop, but whatever he was taking out now he didn’t
want her to see. Maybe it was something more frightening. Maybe the flogger and
the crop were the worst of it and he wanted to make sure she saw those. Had he
seen her reaction to the flogger? He couldn’t have. His back was turned. But
from what he said, he must have known or guessed even without that. But it was
the idea of the crop, unknown and scary, that made her pussy tingle. She wanted
to be struck with it. She wanted it to be intense. And she was frightened of it
at the same time.

His breath tickled her neck. He was close behind her. She
didn’t know what he might have in his hands or what she might feel next. She
braced herself, every muscle tensing, wondering if her penchant for bad boys
was such a good idea. Maybe she should find herself a nice doctor or something.

He ran his hands through her long, loose hair. They were
empty, then. Perhaps that meant the crop and flogger and whatever else were
still on the bed.

He pulled her hair gently, enough that she could feel it.
First he pulled one lock, then another. His touch was so soft and she’d been
expecting something so harsh, she didn’t realize what was going on at first.
He’s
braiding my hair.

Memories flooded back, of her mother doing that, and her
father after her mother passed away when she was fifteen. Her mother had been
better at it, and Terry had eventually learned to do her own, but both had
acted out of love as best they knew. But Kyle didn’t love her. He was just
being kind. Maybe he liked it up. “Thank you, Sir.” Maybe she’d disappointed
him by arriving with it loose. Either way, it certainly wasn’t punishment.

Obviously he’d had some practice, although whatever pattern
he was doing was unfamiliar to her, at least by feel. Where had he learned to
do that? She tried to imagine him with long hair, but that seemed ridiculous.
She remembered the blonde woman in the picture. Karla. Her hair had been
braided. Kyle had practiced on his sisters. Pleased by that deduction, she
relaxed. Besides, a man who would braid his sisters’ hair, who kept photographs
of them on his dresser and spoke of them with such obvious pride had to be a
good man. She relaxed and enjoyed it, regretting that he was almost finished.
He could pull it all out and do it again, and she could enjoy that all night.

He tugged her braid upward and she jerked out of her
reverie. That wasn’t gentle, not at all. And it didn’t go away when she heard
him take a step back either. What was going on? She jerked her head and the bed
shook.

He’s tied my hair to the top of the bedframe.
She
quit pulling. That hurt. And it pulled even when she moved her head a little,
but if she was absolutely still, her head bent slightly forward, it was okay.
She took more deep breaths. Unlike her ankles and wrists, he’d bound her hair
very tightly.

What if I need to get free suddenly?
“Sir?”

“Shh. You’re okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I will keep you safe. I promise.”

“What if there’s a fire?”

“Then I will cut you free. I’ve practiced detaching those
cuffs as often as I practiced assembling and disassembling my rifle in the old
days, and I’m very fast.”

“And my hair?”

“Might be shorter, but I have a knife within reach that
would get you free in less than a second in an emergency. I’m always prepared
for things to go wrong, little sub. Always.”

She took a deep breath. A sharp knife that could cut through
her hair—she wouldn’t like having her hair cut that way but he was keeping her
safe, and that was the important thing. It was all fine until she visualized
the knife. She was tied up with a maniac with a big sharp knife. She yanked at
her chains, hard.