The Romantic Dominant (13 page)

“They’ll come back though, and I’ll be checking every week, you stupid cow,” he mumbled under his breath.

Jumping behind the wheel, he darted back into the street and headed home.

I
n her humble apartment, Abby was floating. The man of her dreams had swept into her life; rich, handsome, strict and sexy.

The name-calling, though, had thrown her a bit.

She told herself there was no such thing as perfect, and she’d read that during sex, some men liked hearing different things to turn them on, and he’d been very sweet afterwards.

She just wished Zander had called her back. He’d made her promise to make a safe call, but he’d not responded to her messages.

Shoot. Maybe Zander just said those things to be polite. Maybe he didn’t really mean them,
she thought, running a brush through her long blond hair and applying the last of her make-up.
Should I text him and tell him where I’m going or would that just make me a pest?

Sighing, and staring at her reflection in the tall, oval, Victorian-style mirror, she was happy with her choice; red skirt, cream cotton blouse, black hose and pumps. The doorbell made her jump and her heart began to race; the taxi had arrived. Grabbing her phone and dropping it into her purse, she picked up her coat from the bed and ran to the door.

“Evening, Miss,” the taxi driver smiled as she stepped outside.

The rain had turned to a steady drizzle and she pulled on her coat, but the lane to the curb was slippery and she had to walk slowly. By the time she reached the car her hair was damp, and worried it would frizz she withdrew her hairbrush, running it through her long locks.

The butterflies grew as the car moved through the slick, wet streets, and by the time it pulled in front of the imposing two-story Tudor she was almost shaking with anticipation. The porch light was on and Connor opened the door as the driver helped her from the car and escorted her up the steps to the house. Abby smiled, Connor had been watching for her.

“Thank you,” Connor said warmly, handing the man a $20 tip.

“Thank you, Sir,” the driver nodded, and moved quickly away.

“You got a bit wet,” Connor remarked ushering her in.

She moved past him into the foyer, her heels clipping on the hardwood floors.

“As much as I like high-heels, would you please remove your shoes? You’re tracking in water and dirt.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” she exclaimed, immediately kicking them off.

“Perhaps I should have you clean the floors after dinner, make sure you learn that lesson,” he declared, looking at her intently.

“Whatever pleases you,” she whispered.

His strong, intimidating demeanor made her weak, and she had an unexpected, compelling desire to drop to her knees and rest her head in his lap.

“Take off your coat and give me a hug,” he smiled, his stern manner vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

She slipped it off and Connor took it from her hands, hanging it in the hall closet.

“There, safely put away. Now come here.”

Moving the few steps across to him she leaned into his body, losing herself in his arms.

“First, I shall spank you, get your punishment out of the way.”

“Whatever pleases you, Sir.”

“Yes, that would please me. Hmmm, since you’re going to be cooking for me I think we’ll go straight into the kitchen.”

Taking her hand he led her down the hallway, through the dining room and across to the center island in the large, gourmet kitchen.

“Your house is so big,” she remarked.

“And you will see all of it,” he promised, pulling a long piece of nylon cord from his pocket. “Wrists.”

“What?” she asked, surprised by the request.

“An extra six swats for the question. If I repeat it, six more.”

He was glowering down at her, almost frighteningly austere.

He’s a disciplinarian. He told you that,
she reasoned, and immediately lifted her arms.

With practiced skill he bound them together, turned her to face the island, and a moment later she felt the cord wrapping around her ankles. A chill shuddered across her back, but when he lifted her skirt and ran his hand over her bottom, she sighed with pleasure.

“Bend over, arms stretched above your head, face on the granite,” he ordered.

Leaning over she rested her cheek on the cool, hard surface, and listened to his footsteps leave the room. He was gone only a minute, and when he returned she was able to catch a glimpse of the implement he was carrying in his hand; a brown, leather strap.

“Now then,” he announced, “six for not following my order immediately.”

He didn’t pause or caress her, but immediately lashed the leather across her backside, landing it with a hot sting. It was followed by another and another, and though she howled at the sharp zing there was no letup between his strikes. When the sixth landed she was gasping and holding back her tears.

“Next time I give you an order, what do you do?” he growled.

“Obey, Sir, thank you, Sir,” she cried.

“I’m now going to ask you a series of questions. If you give me the correct answer I will strap you once, if it’s wrong, three times. You will add them up and they will be given at the end of my interrogation. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whimpered.

He unzipped his fly, withdrawing his flaccid penis as he stared at the punished behind. The spanking itself did nothing for him, but her anguish filled him, her anguish fed him, her anguish was all he cared about.

Dropping his fingers between her legs, he found her wet and swollen, her soft moans giving him more clues to her psyche.

“Who am I?” he asked, sliding his fingers inside her slit.

“My Master,” she mewed.

“Correct. That’s one, keep count. Do you need me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you need my money?”

“Yes, Sir,” she stammered, wriggling against his fingers.

“And you’ll fuck anyone who has money, won’t you?”

She panicked. Was she supposed to say yes, or no, or only him?

“Don’t make me wait,” he warned. “You’ll fuck anyone who has money, won’t you? Because you’re just a slut, right?”

“Yes, Sir,” she groaned, praying it was what he wanted to hear.

“Correct. You’ll fuck anyone,” he breathed, feeling life in his cock, “and why will you fuck anyone?”

“Because I want their money and I’m a slut, Sir.”

“Yes, yes, you’re a gold-digging slut,” he muttered.

His cock was swelling in his hand, growing fast, shockingly fast.

Oh, you’re a nasty little thing. I’m really going to enjoy having you around.

“I can do anything I want to you, right slut?”

“Yes, Sir,” she wailed.

“You’re nasty little gold-digger aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir, nasty for anyone rich man who wants it,” she wailed.

A flash of sensation surged through his cock, the unexpected orgasm splashing his hot cream down his hand, the short, violent eruption stunning him, and pulling his hand from her sex, he reached for the edge of the counter for support.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck, fuck.”

Taking long, deep breaths he straightened up and staggered to the maid’s room.

“Abby, Abby, Abby, you are going to be around for quite a while,” he mumbled as he washed himself.

Abby’s ass was on fire, and in spite of the unexpected, harsh strapping her thighs were squeezing together, the hot wetness alive between her legs, but she was worried, very worried. The man was tender and loving one minute, and nasty the next, and the sex…it wasn’t sex.

You’re just getting to know him. Don’t jump to any conclusions. Don’t do anything you might regret.

She could hear his returning footsteps and tensed, wondering what would follow.

“How many straps do you have coming?” he asked.

“Six, Sir, thank you, Sir,” she stammered.

“Then six you shall receive, but after dinner, when I put you to bed.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir.”

“Just think, Abby, if you’d not answered correctly you could have ended up owing me eighteen,” he declared, untying her ankles. “Aren’t you a clever girl?”

“Thank you, Sir,” she replied.

“And so wet,” he declared, rubbing his fingers against her clit. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, but only if the dinner you prepare is up to my standards.”

Taking her by the shoulders he pulled her up and untied her wrists.

“Drop the skirt and take off your shirt. You’re to cook and serve me in your garter belt and stockings.”

He watched her nervously undress, then took her clothing and laid it on the island, staring at her breasts.

“Aren’t they adorable? So full and round,” he smiled, rubbing his hands across them, lightly pinching her nipples.

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered, closing her eyes, relishing the attention.

“You like me playing with your tits, don’t you, Abby?”

“Yes, Sir, I love it,” she moaned.

“I thought you would,”
you gold-digging little slut.
“Time to start dinner. I want steak, medium, broccoli and brown rice. You’ll find everything you need in that cupboard and in the refrigerator. You’ll serve me, stand next to while I eat, clean up, and then I’ll decide what you’re going to have. Any questions?”

“No, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

He played with her breasts for a few more minutes and when he finally released her, he watched her red bottom as she walked to the cupboard; it was nicely striped and stinging significantly he was sure.

“I’ll be back to check on you in fifteen minutes,” he announced, and picking up her skirt and blouse he headed to the stairs.

Abby turned and watched him leave, a heaviness rolling through her stomach.

Shit. This is bizarre. He’s too much for me. I wish I could talk to Zander. I’ll cook the dinner and then I’ll pretend I don’t feel well and have to go home.

In his bedroom Connor Matthews had picked up a pair of very sharp scissors and was shredding her clothes while watching her putter around the kitchen on his large, flat screen, TV. The sacrifice of her clothing was a ritual, denoting she was now his. He knew she’d be worrying about the six more straps, which wouldn’t happen later as promised, but at another time, out of the blue, when she least expected it.

He’d been down this road many times, he knew exactly how to play the game, and Abby had walked in his door the loser.

W
ith Gabriela nestled against him, the weather playing its music against the windows, Zander had drifted into a light doze. The exhausted woman had fallen asleep almost immediately and he’d wondered how long it had been since she’d last slept peacefully. When he finally stirred a charcoal gray sky greeted him, the fire’s golden flame outlining the shadowy ghosts dancing upon the walls.

Slowly he disentangled his body, but her sleep was so heavy her body remained limp and motionless. Silently moving from the room he walked down the hallway, wrapping his disarranged robe tightly around him. The lamps in the penthouse were on timers and their welcoming light greeted him, and though he kept the temperature at a comfortable 72 degrees he felt a chill in the air. Touching the smart screen on his wall he brought the living room fireplace to life.

As he walked past his office he saw the blinking light on his house phone telling him there were waiting messages and he knew there would be more on his cell phone. Making his way to the kitchen he brewed a cup of coffee, grabbed his cellphone, and headed into his study to listen to all the voicemails.

Tom reported the meeting with the retailers at the new site had gone very well and the smoldering fire had been extinguished.

There was a call from his legal department asking him to get in touch as soon as he could.

Heather had left a poignant message, saying how much she liked him and wished she were different.

And then a message from Abigail; Connor, the new man in her life was visiting her.

Zander smiled. She sounded excited and happy and he hoped everything had gone as well as she was expecting. On an impulse he powered up his desktop computer, and while listening to the messages on his home phone he googled Connor Matthews.

The man’s website was impressive, and the photograph showed an attractive, mature man with salt and pepper hair, a square jaw and almost GQ model good looks. He was a prominent member of the Rotary Club, the Chamber of Commerce, an ‘Elite Friend’ of the Police Department, and had received many awards.

This is a bit weird. Why would Connor Matthews date a youngster like Abigail?

Deciding it was none of his business he let the computer go to sleep, and after returning his empty mug to the kitchen he opened his front door, finding the boxes and garment bags had been left as he had requested.

He began carrying the new clothing into the guest room, and once everything was laid out on the bed he carefully removed the price tags, knowing he could return any of the clothes to Tabitha should an item not fit, or not be to Gabriela’s liking.

He hung the dresses, skirts and slacks, in the walk-in closet, placing the shoes on the floor underneath them. The lingerie he left in their boxes, but snipped off the tags, leaving little evidence that they’d even been opened.

Wandering back into the kitchen he opened the refrigerator, knowing it contained almost nothing. With Gabriela in the house he needed provisions, and deciding to make a run to the store, he headed to his study to write her a note.

Gabriela,

Running to buy some groceries. Make yourself at home.

Zander

Moving quietly back to his bedroom he laid the note on his pillow, then stealthily retrieved some clothes, changed in the guest room, and grabbing his coat from the hall closet he headed out.

A short time later Gabriela’s eyes flickered open. For a moment she forgot where she was and a rush of panic caused her to bolt upright, then she saw the dancing fire, the floor to ceiling windows showing the heavy drizzle, and felt the warmth of the robe wrapped around her body.