Sweet Backlash (16 page)

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Authors: Violet Heart

Tags: #romance, #erotica, #erotic romance, #bdsm, #bondage, #explicit sex, #dominance submission

BOOK: Sweet Backlash
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Dressing hurriedly in dark jeans, a
pale yellow cotton sweater, and blue loafers, she wished the puffy
pinkness rimming her eyes in the full-length mirror's reflection
would magically disappear. It didn't happen. In the bathroom, she
ran a toothbrush over her teeth, raked a brush through her hair,
and wiped a cold, wet washcloth across her face. It helped with the
puffiness, but not much.

She expected to find him on the other
side of the door, but the hall stood empty. She found Chip in the
kitchen, putting dishes away from the dishwasher. Careful to keep
her gaze from his face, she glanced at his shoulder. A long, gray
sleeve hugged the flexing muscles as he reached into an overhead
cabinet to put plates away. Her chest constricted at the memory of
his shoulder, sans gray fabric, bunching with the movement of
pushing open her legs.

A telltale throb pressed against the
crotch of her jeans. Shit. Dropping her eyes, her gaze landed on
his tight rear encased in worn, washed-out green Dockers. Her hand
had held that ass while she sucked his cock. She gasped and he
turned.

"Are you okay?" He narrowed his eyes.
"You look like hell."

"Thanks. You really know how to make a
girl feel special." She rolled her eyes as an excuse to get them
off of him. She kept them off, noticing he had put the sofa bed
away and straightened the living room. The only signs he had stayed
were a bed pillow on the couch and his suitcases near the
door.

He seemed to ignore her snarky remark
and asked, "Are you hungry? There's an omelet on the island. Hope
you like ham, onion, and cheese."

"You've been busy." Her stomach
grumbled. She set her coffee next to her breakfast and dragging a
high stool to the island's counter. "You're a morning person,
aren't you?"

"Actually, I'm not. I like to sleep
late. And I usually don't talk much before nine
o'clock."

"You talked up a storm at my door this
morning," she accused.

"It's ten-thirty."

What? The wall clock confirmed his
announcement. Talk about sleeping late. She'd slept ten hours? It
only felt like six. Frank probably stirred at his place by now.
They had to get a move on.

She shoved a bite of food into her
mouth. Delicious. "This is good. Thanks."

"No problem." He closed cabinet
doors.

She listened to him transfer dirty
dishes from the sink and stove to the dishwasher, stubbornly
avoiding looking at him. Having him in close proximity had the
effect she wanted to avoid, however. Knowing he stood two steps
away turned her on. How would she get through a car ride with
him?

She took three more bites of omelet
and downed half her coffee. "Okay, let's go. I really don't want to
deal with Frank today."

"I hear ya," he agreed.

She hopped off the stool and went to
the coat rack. In her purse, she dug for her keys while Chip
clasped the collar around his neck and opened the door. At the car,
he opened and held the driver's side door for her. Part of her
wanted to protest the show of chivalry, but it occurred to her he
did it for appearances, as part of his role as her slave. Later, at
the corner stoplight, he cleared his throat.

"Something on your mind?" she asked,
wishing the coffee would kick in.

He tossed the end of the leash over
his shoulder in a casual manner, like nothing. "Yeah. Last
night."

Not really something she wanted to
talk about. Keeping her eyes on the red light and hoping it would
end the subject, she said, "It was good for me."

"I'm glad. It was good for me, too.
But was I the first to go down on you?"

She grimaced. The light turned green
and she used driving as an excuse to stare straight ahead. "Why do
you ask?"

"You were scared. I wasn't expecting
that."

She could feel him staring. "I wasn't
scared."

His voice gentled. "Look, don't deny
it. I was there. It's okay if you were. But I need to know if I was
your first."

"Why?"

"Can't you just answer my question
without giving me a hard time?" Frustration came through in his
tone.

She sighed. "Yes, you were my first."
He was her first everything.

"I don't get it, Melony. You're a
dominatrix and you never commanded a slave to go down on
you?"

"It's not like that for me." Why was
she talking about this? She clapped her lips together.

"What do you mean?"

She snuck a quick peek at him and
turned her attention to the road. His genuine curiosity compelled
her to explain. "I don't dominate for sexual gratification. It gets
my submissives off, but that's not why I do it."

"It's not?" He sounded
dumbfounded.

"No, it's not."

"Am I out of line to ask why you do it
then?"

"Yes."

He went quiet and she breathed a sigh
of relief. At the warehouse parking lot, she pulled into the space
beside his Mercedes. Chip removed his collar and dropped it to the
floor then got out, but he didn't close the door.

Bending so he could look at her
through the opening, he said, "Maybe yesterday didn't mean anything
to you, but it meant something to me." He stood quietly a moment,
as if waiting for her to speak, then said, "I'll see you back at
the apartment."

Once again, she was in the position of
having to trust him. He now had his car. And his wallet. He could
easily drive to freedom. His things at her apartment could be
replaced. The more she got to know him, however, the more she
learned he was a man of his word.

Sure enough, he followed her back. She
never lost sight of him in her rear view mirror. At the apartment
building, he pulled his car into the other space marked with her
apartment number. He got out with his briefcase in hand. It
reminded her of Friday night, when he had appeared at her door
asking her about his Monday morning meeting with Judge Edmonds, and
she smiled.

He shoved his keys into one of the
satchel's front pockets and met her at the hood of her car. "Let's
go do something fun."

Skeptical of what he might consider
'fun,' she asked, "Like what?"

"I'm new in town, so I don't know
what's available. What's open on a Sunday morning?" He
grinned.

"You really want me to pick?" Melony
didn't know if he'd have interest in what she had in mind for some
serious fun.

With a curt nod, he said, "You pick.
What do you want to do?"

She tossed him her key ring. "Put your
briefcase in the apartment. I'll wait for you here."

"Don't you want me to put the leash
on?" he asked.

"No. We can leave it in the car for
now."

He beamed her a bright smile and
jogged across the lot. She couldn't help but watch, his movements
agile and athletic. Did he know how good he looked? She didn't
think so.

When he returned, she waited in the
car and he joined her. He handed the keys over. "So where are we
going?" Locking his seatbelt in place, he cast her an eager
smirk.

She started the engine, enjoying his
excited energy. He brought to mind a child about to go to the
circus for the first time. "It's a surprise," she said.

"I love surprises." He rubbed his
hands along the fabric covering his thighs.

Twenty minutes later, she drove into
the Pro-Cart parking lot. "Here we are."

"Pro-Cart? What is this?" He stared at
the enormous white building.

"Go cart racing." She hadn't come here
in years. She used to come regularly, but hadn't sought a good time
like this in too long.

"Cool. You come here a
lot?"

"Used to."

She reached into the back seat for her
purse, and when she turned, he had already gotten out and come
around. He opened her door and offered his hand. He said with a
bow, "My lady."

Gazing at his hand, she said, "I don't
think Frank or any of his associates are around. You can stop the
act."

"Who says I'm acting?" He took her
hand from her lap and urged her out. "Come on. Let's go forget
we're grown-ups for a few hours. They sell food? Can we have lunch
here?"

"Yeah," she said, catching his
contagious enthusiasm. "Pizza."

 

Chapter 18

 

Melony's alarm beeped, but it didn't
matter. She'd lain awake for half an hour, trying to keep her eyes
from crossing. Chip was so hot, she didn't know how she got through
the previous day without jumping on him. Now she paid the price.
She faced her first day as his secretary with nerves so taut she
wanted to scream.

Sticking her head out her bedroom
door, she called, "Time to get up."

"I'm up," came his growled response
from the living room.

She smiled. Yep, he was definitely not
a morning person. Her smile melted, however, as she imagined him
rolling over, the sheets sliding lower. A shadow of beard probably
tinted his jaw. Remembering the hard-on he'd sported that first
morning, when she had him cuffed to the bar, made her more
horny.

She forced her feet to carry her into
the bathroom and got into the shower. Attempting to relieve her
frustration, she soaped her body and massaged her pussy. It didn't
work. She wanted his touch, not her own.

Gritting her teeth, she managed to get
through her routine. Her make-up and hair complete, she stood in
front of her closet and studied her wardrobe. She needed an edge.
Something to wear that would bolster her confidence when facing the
ladies in the litigation department and the attorneys. Deciding on
a light green wrap dress made with Lycra that clung to her curves
and swished with a sexy flare at the hem right above her knees, she
chose black pumps then moved to her dresser to find the appropriate
undergarments.

She pulled the last pair of pantyhose
from her drawer and made a mental note to pick up more next time
she went shopping. With a slight tremble in her hands, she drew the
silky film over a foot and to her knee. She really had to get some
relief. Tonight, she promised. Repeating the action for the second
leg, she grasped the hose and pulled them up her thighs. Her
fingernail went through material.

"Shit!" She rifled through the drawer
but knew she didn't have another pair.

Back at the closet, she slammed her
fists onto her hips and ran her gaze along the choices. Nothing
looked as good as the dress. The red suit was too loud for a
Monday, especially if she didn't have a meeting to attend. The
black pantsuit was too funereal. And the navy shirtdress was too
severe. Everything else looked too soft for her mood. The green
dress would have to do, pantyhose or not. She shaved, so she'd
pass.

"How's it coming in there?" Chip
called from the hallway.

Removing the dress from the hanger,
she answered, "Be out in a minute." Mindful of her hair, she drew
the green fabric over her head, smoothed the material in place, and
adjusted the deep V so her bra didn't show. She stepped into her
pumps, checked her reflection in the full-length mirror then
hurried to the kitchen. "Ready to go?"

* * * *

Chip had woken with a dick hard enough
to knock holes in the wall, and it had nothing to do with having to
pee. A cool shower had helped, but seeing Melony in that dress got
him worked up all over again. She had her hair swept into a
feminine twist with curls in a pretty spray at the crown of her
head. More than anything, he wanted to bring it down, peel that
dress off of her, and take her to the carpet.

Setting down his coffee cup, he
cleared his throat and adjusted his suddenly too-tight tie. "Do you
need to eat?"

"I'll get something at Pop's Kitchen."
She raked him with her eyes and arched a brow.

"What do you think? Too much for a
first meeting with Judge Edmonds?" Thrusting out his arms, he
turned a circle.

"Very stylish. You look like a picture
from a men's fashion magazine."

He puffed out his chest. "I didn't
know men had fashion magazines."

She laughed. "Come on. You'll want to
beat Bob into the office this morning to make a good
impression."

At the door, she handed him his
collar. "I regret agreeing to wear this thing," he said.

"You didn't have a problem with it
yesterday," she pointed out.

"I also didn't have a tie on." He
scowled at the neckband.

"It's a short ride to work from here.
You don't have to wear it for long. Do you have your parking
pass?"

He grasped the handle of his briefcase
waiting on the floor next to the door, and patted the side. "Right
in here."

Taking the satchel from him, she said,
"Put on the collar and let's get going. I promise you can take it
off as soon as we pull into the parking garage."

With a huff, he latched it on, handed
her the leash, and took his briefcase. "None of your neighbors have
seen us like this. What would they think if they did?" He opened
the door and ushered her out with a hand to the small of her back.
Instantly, he realized touching her was a mistake. His johnson came
to attention at the feel of her warmth on the palm of his hand, and
he had to rearrange his slacks.

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