The Dom's Dungeon (5 page)

His
lips quirked.
“'Alex' will do for now.”

For
now?
What did that mean? “Once again, I'm sorry for my actions. The room
upstairs is clean, and I'll just get out of your life now.” The thought sent
anxiety like ice trickling down her spine.

“Sit
down.”

“Listen,
I—”

He pointed
to the chair across from him.

She walked
to the chair, a little startled at her compliance. Her usual reaction to an
order was defiance, not obedience. When her tender butt made contact with the
cushion, she sucked in a breath. A glint of amusement appeared in his eyes. If
she could have laid hands on anything
throwable
,
she'd have heaved it at him. “What do you want to talk about?”

His
fingers rubbed his lips as he studied her, in no hurry to answer her question.
In fact, he appeared totally at ease in this awkward situation.

Another
reason to hate him.
She might be a confident vet, but in social
situations she bumbled around like a badly trained puppy. Turning her gaze
away, she held her clammy hands out to the fire and then realized how badly her
fingers shook.
New plan: fold hands in
lap, lean back in chair, meet the man's eyes, and be polite.
Piece
of cake.

“The
information from Exchanges stated you wanted to trade places to save money
while you job hunt,” he said finally. “I have the impression that leaving my
home might prove more than just an inconvenience for you.”

Her breath
caught at the accurate blow. She laced her fingers together. “That's not your
problem,” she said stiffly. But God help her, it was hers. All those interviews
that she'd set up. Several clinics still needed to call her with dates and
times. “If someone calls…
Um…
Tomorrow I will call and
give you a number… Could you please…
”
Her voice
trailed off. How could she ask him for anything?

“I could,
perhaps, be persuaded to let you stay here with me,” he said softly.

Her eyes
closed as nausea whirled inside her. For a moment, one horrible moment, she
actually considered giving in to his pressure tactics.
Tacky motel rooms and dark alleys.
Being used.

She rose.
“Forget it. I'm not a prostitute.”
Never, ever again.

His shrewd
gaze dropped from her face to her fisted hands. “
MacKensie
,”
he said in an even voice. “I've never paid, traded, or bargained to have sex
with a woman. I'm too old to start now. Sit down.” The command had a touch of
the whip this time, and her knees dropped her in the chair before she had a
chance to think.

She rubbed
her hands on her jeans and frowned. If he didn't want sex with her, then what
did he want? And why did his voice give her quivers inside?

“So?” she
managed to say, striving for a hint of defiance and failing miserably.

“You need
a place to stay during your interviews.” His eyes seemed too blue, too intense.
“Am I correct?”

How much
did she want him to know? Would admitting this make her more vulnerable? “It
would be useful,” she ventured.

Elbows on
the arms of the chair, he
steepled
his fingers,
contemplating her over the top. “I have a problem with just letting you go and
not warning Exchanges or the community about your behavior. And I don't know
you well enough to assure myself it won't happen again.”

Oh no. The
iron in her spine started to fold.
All her worst fears…but
why had he said
persuaded?
“So
you suggest what?”

“An
exchange of sorts.
I would let you stay here, and unless you prove
to be untrustworthy, will not speak about your behavior.”

“What do
you get in return?”

“Let me
explain. Over the past month, I took a submissive to a few parties and a BDSM
club and then stopped calling her. She apparently has become…fixated on me, and
nothing I've said has deterred her. She feels that since I haven't taken on
anyone else, it's just a matter of time before I return to her. I think if I
appear to be in a relationship, she will give up and move on.”

Mac stared
at him in disbelief.
Rich, handsome, exuding a power that
should have women buzzing around him like flies.
“You want a
girlfriend?”

His deep
laugh went through her skin and squeezed her chest.
“Absolutely
not.
I want the
appearance
of
a girlfriend.
A submissive lover, to be exact.”

“Me?”

He nodded.
“Perhaps we can solve our problems together in this way.”

“No
way.”
She shook her head.
What a
horrifying thought.

“You have
an interest in BDSM.”

“No, I
don't,” she said automatically.

His brows
drew together, and his blue eyes darkened as if a rain cloud crossed the sky. “
MacKensie
, the first thing a sub learns is not to lie to
her Dom.”

“I'm not
your sub.” Just the thought sent chills through her. She'd seen the way the
Doms
in the clubs treated their subs, handling them as if
the subs had no say over their bodies. She shivered. This man would be no
different. Yet she could still feel his arms around her, how he'd held her
against him.

“The
thought of being my sub appears to frighten you,” he murmured, “as well as
arouse you.”

“Right,”
she said sarcastically. Like she even knew what arousal felt like? Sex was
always for the guy, not the girl. She scowled when his gaze dropped to her
chest. “That's not true.”

“You may
not want to acknowledge it, but your body is interested.
And
aroused.”
As if aiming a pistol, he pointed a finger at her chest.

She
glanced down at her tits and frowned. Under her thin bra and T-shirt, her
nipples blatantly poked out.
Aroused? Me?
And yet her body did feel different, as if her skin had become more sensitive
all over.
This is just not happening
.
“I'm not going to have—to fuck you. Forget it.”

He leaned
back in his chair and took a sip of wine, reining in his overpowering presence
and giving her a chance to breathe. “Ah. You're uncomfortable with the idea of
sex. Perhaps we can work around that. What if”—he smiled slightly—“no fucking
were involved?”

“Let me
get this straight. I'd follow you around, looking all wussy—with no sex—and
you'd let me live here for the next two weeks and wouldn't destroy my
reputation.”

One
eyebrow tilted up. “Nicely put. However, I'd expect true submission from you,
MacKensie
.” He rested his forearms on his thighs and pinned
her with a stare. “That's quite different from being wussy. That's giving
control to me—control over everything for certain occasions.”

The room
felt awfully hot, and her heart raced as if she'd run laps for an hour. “What
occasions?”

“When
at my club.
At any party I take you to.
Whenever
we're with my friends.”

Not all
the time, then. Could she let him boss her around for two or three hours? With
sex out of the picture, this might be doable. A trickle of hope eased the
tightness of her stomach. But all that control. She tried to remember what had
happened in the BDSM clubs.
Oh
frak
. “No whipping or any of that stuff, right?”

He leaned
back. “I have a list we'll go through together. But I will expect you to bend
over backward to please me, so unless there's something on it that is past your
endurance…”

With a
mighty yawn, Butler stood up and wandered over to sit next to Fontaine's feet
and laid his big head in the man's lap. Mac watched as the lean hands ruffled
the dog's ears, scratched under the collar, and then stroked Butler's side. The
dog's tail thumped against the floor.

She
frowned, feeling a tug at her heart and a decrease in her wariness. Could
anyone who loved that ugly mutt be all bad?
Don't
be stupid, Mac
. Even mass murderers adored their pets.
And
yet…
No sex, her reputation undamaged…
Ack
, her reputation.
Dear
Lord, she couldn't do this.

“What?” he
asked, even though she hadn't said anything.

“I plan to
start a life here, work here. Being your…whatever… It's too… I can't afford to
damage my reputation.” And God, she knew how important that was.

“Ah.
A fair concern.”
He nodded. “I will not ask you to”—his
flashing grin was devastating—“act as
my
whatever
anywhere except with a few discreet friends or at
Chains, which is a private club. Anonymity is part of the contract, and the
members value their reputations.”

Well. But
could she really do this? “A trial period?” she offered.

He nodded.
“Fair enough.
Tell you what. If you do a really fine
job and Cynthia gives up, I'll make some calls and shove some influence your
way.”

Oh sure,
like Mr. Big Shot would know the vet community. “Thank you,” she said politely.

Chuckling,
he rose. He gave her his hand and pulled her to her feet. “The
foundation
I oversee helped start both of the county's
no-kill shelters and the city's feral-cat program. Once a year we sponsor a
fund-raising dinner and dance to benefit all the pet charities in the area. As
it happens, the dance is in two weeks, and just about every vet in the city
attends.”

Her mouth
dropped open. This was just what she needed. Oh God, could this possibly work?

She'd
planned to leave the house early the next morning before Mr. Fontaine—Alex—came
down to breakfast. But when she walked into the kitchen, she realized from the
smell of coffee and the cup in the dishwasher that he'd already been there and
gone. Maybe he felt the same need to escape that she did.

Oh that would be the day
. She rolled her eyes. That man
wouldn't run from anything. Nope.

As she
made a fresh pot of coffee, she breathed in the heady fragrance of the aromatic
grounds. No cheap coffee for this household. A few minutes later, she poured
herself a nice full cup and walked into the sunny breakfast nook. Skirting the
antique table and chairs in the center of the room, she chose the couch under a
window with a magnificent view of Puget Sound and the mountains turning pink
with the rising sun.

When she
sat, her still-tender bottom touched the cushions, making her squeak, then
scowl at the unwelcome reminder of yesterday.

What a mess
. And she'd created it all by
herself. She thudded her head on the back of the couch:
dumb, dumb, dumb
. How could she have been so lacking in morals?
God, she would never, ever open a locked door again.

But how
that man had the nerve to spank her, she didn't know. And then he'd pretty much
blackmailed her into cooperating with him.
Done a good job of
it too.
She'd spent most of last night going over her predicament and
hadn't discovered any way out of it. With his connections, he could help her
secure a job—or could sink her just as easily.

It was the
submissive stuff that really sent a chill creeping up her spine. She'd spent
enough time in the BDSM clubs to know some of what went on. How could she
possibly trust this stranger to…to tie her up or to
…
Then again, he already had, hadn't he?

He'd had
her at his mercy on that bench. Frowning, she took a sip of coffee. In her
opinion, spanking her had been way over the top, but considering he'd found her
exploring his private dungeon, maybe he'd figured she deserved it. Yet despite
his fury and all the nasty whips and floggers and canes available on the wall,
he'd contented himself with five swats from his bare hand.

“
Five swats
.” The memory of his voice
made a shiver run up her spine. But the man hadn't groped her or done anything
remotely sexual, despite her nakedness. Her breath eased out, and her muscles
relaxed. Maybe…maybe this would work.

Toenails
clicked dully across the marble tile floor of the sunroom, and then Butler
trotted over to her, his tail wagging furiously. He put a big head on her knee
and gazed at her in adoration.

“Good
morning, sweetie.” She sent the dog into ecstasy by scratching his sides. “Did
you sleep with the brute last night?”

“Actually,
the brute makes him sleep in his dog bed on the floor.” Alex strolled into the
room, holding a cup of coffee, and sat down on the other end of the couch.

“I—”
Good going, Mac
.
“I'm
sorry.
Um.
Am I supposed to call you something like
'Master' or something?”
Something
totally wussy?