Текст книги "Save Us"
Автор книги: Cynthia Dane
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
Chapter 21
IAN
“What are you talking about?” I ask the doorman in Katie’s apartment building. “I’ve never had to check in before.”
“Sorry, Mr. Mathers.” The man, a short gentleman with dyed black hair and wiry glasses, tips his hat to me and writes something down with a gloved hand. “Ms. Alison has requested that all guests be checked in and admitted.”
“She’s expecting me.”
“Even so, I must ring her up first.” He picks up a silver phone and holds a finger up to me. “One moment please.”
So here I am, standing in the lobby of Kathryn’s building, watching well-to-do people come and go as I stand off to the side of this desk and wonder what the fuck I’ve done this time to be banned from her home. I have a hard time believing she’s blocking out everyone…
Wait, she is, you say? Bullshit!
I’m rather scared to go up now.
“Ms. Alison says you may enter.” The doorman gestures to the elevator, where an operator also tips his hat and holds the door open for me. “Have a good evening, Mr. Mathers.”
I was hoping for a good evening before this happened. Sure, I’m here to ask Katie for money on behalf of my family. But I was also hoping we could… you know…
Wine. Dine. Make some love.
Except if she’s blocking me from coming right up to see her, who fucking knows.
I text her on the ride up in the elevator. When I don’t get a response, I try not to panic. The doors open. I step out into the quiet hallway and walk straight to her door.
It’s open.
The average man would assume something was wrong. Terribly wrong. The average man would panic that someone broke into Kathryn’s home and is holding her prisoner, molesting her, or dragging her off somewhere for a sweet reward.
I’m not the average man.
First of all, I hear music. Soft, powerful music coming in the form of string instruments over a stereo. The kind of music that plays when we’re trying to focus on something important. Like work. Work we do. I’ve heard Kathryn play this music on her computer when we did our projects.
Second, I smell her spicier perfume. Not the kind she wore on our dates if planning ahead.
Next, as I step into the apartment, I find myself surrounded by candles galore. Most of them electric, but some of them real and emitting scents I didn’t know were possible.
Finally, I see her.
The door latches shut behind me as I step in to Kathryn Alison’s domain. This isn’t Katie dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. She’s not even wearing a skintight dress. Nope.
She’s wearing a tailored pantsuit, sitting in the middle of her couch, legs crossed and arms spread on the edge behind her. Many times have I pulled that ponytail sticking out on top of her head. But it’s covered in black wires, her dark eye makeup searing into my soul as she curls her red lips into a man-eating smile.
Uh oh.
“Good evening,” she says with a tight voice. One leg uncurls from the other, revealing her leather boots. She’s worn those boots while submitting to me. She also wears them to the club as a Domme.
Uh oh.
If I were a captain of a ship, attempting to come into port in my hometown, I would probably start worrying. Okay, not worrying. Panicking. Imagine coming up on deck, expecting to see the sleepy docks and the people that inhabit them. Maybe it’s raining or foggy, but everything is as you left it.
Except it’s not.
Soldiers stand on the dock. Your country’s soldiers, but they’re not supposed to be there, especially not in that large of numbers. They’re all armed to the teeth. Guns are aimed at you. Canons point in the direction of your ship. Your first reaction is to man your decks, but you’re afraid that will come off as too aggressive, and you’ll be set on fire before you have the chance to anchor at the dock and kiss your wife hello for the first time in months.
You’re pretty sure you’re going to die, just not sure for what reason and how quickly. At the very least, you’re being arrested.
Handcuffed.
Strung up.
Flogged.
Yup. That’s what I feel like I’m walking into right now.
“Kathryn.” I don’t let me voice waver, but it’s struggling to not betray my reservations. “You look… intimidating.”
Her blue eyes drown in shadows. Yet the sparks I see emanating from their depths… kill me. “Intimidating? Why, thank you. Do sit down.”
I’d rather not, so I continue to stand before her. Standing is the only way I feel like I have any power right now. Kathryn is sucking it up like it’s her lifeblood.
“What can I do for you, Ian?”
This is so formal. This is so… not my Katie. The way she sits, the way she’s dressed, the way she looks at me… never mind the tone of her voice. This is the Kathryn I knew of years ago. The one I avoided for so long because she wasn’t like any woman I wanted to deal with. In fact, if I may say so…
Kathryn Alison is the type of Domme who scares the shit out of me.
The Dommes you imagine are the kind the media plays up. They wear lingerie and leather, maybe some steely boots, and walk around carrying whips while making their subs get down on their knees and God knows what. Kathryn isn’t that kind of Domme. She makes her love by dressing up like a hardcore businesswoman and taking no names. This is the type of woman who destroys a boardroom and then destroys a man’s balls.
All right, so some men get off on that. Good for them. I’d rather not.
I fling my jacket over my arm, trying to look casual, like the Ian she wants to roll around in bed with. I don’t think it’s working.
“Business. I’m here for business.” I won’t press my luck with love.
Kathryn looks between me and something beneath her nails. Is that all I am to her? Lint? Dirt? “I heard on the grapevine that one of your father’s investors didn’t come through. Is that what you’re here about?” The sharp, icy look I get would make me shake in my boots if I were wearing any.
“You heard correctly. We’re in a bit of a pickle. My father asked… well, I thought… if you would be able to help out in any way.”
No man likes to grovel for money. And let’s be honest, no man likes to grovel to the woman he loves for money. I would grovel to my mother first, but she’s been useless enough to not only deny us the funds, but to go running to Kathryn – yeah, I don’t doubt it was her.
Kathryn’s demeanor does not falter. “You want money from me.”
“More like an investment…”
“Which is money, right?”
Her plucked eyebrows look like a witch’s. Whatever. Would still fuck her.
In fact, my mind is racing with images of me putting both hands on her, turning her over on this couch, and teaching her to think twice about acting this way toward me.
I don’t dare.
“Yes. Money tends to be the form investments come in.”
Kathryn pulls her arms off the couch and sits up, elbows resting on knees and ankles pushed together. “It’s funny. I was talking to my accountant the other day. He told me that my forecast is so bright and sunny that I could retire and keep living my life the way I am… and barely see a dent by the time I die at eighty. Isn’t that something? I’m swimming in money. Fifteen million is barely a drop in my big, big bucket.”
“That’s good to hear…” Where’s the but?
She gets up, her body so alluring in her outfit that it’s taking me everything I know to not try to touch her. Why shouldn’t I? We’re dating, aren’t we? It’s fair game to touch her as I always have. To take her into my arms. To nibble on her ear and suggest we go to the bedroom and have a good time, even if it’s vanilla.
“I could give you the money. God knows my family has some stake in that place, what with us putting our name on a side-piece.” The way she slowly crosses her arms, creates a barrier between us, does not ease my nerves. “I don’t feel like it. That would be too easy… for you.”
“Excuse me?”
She steps closer, her perfume so strong that I almost gag. “You always get your way, don’t you, Ian? Since the dawn of your life you’ve never had to be more than Mr. Alpha, strutting around, taking what you want and leaving people crying in your wake. How many women have you broken the hearts of? Half a dozen? More? I would like to know some of their names one day, if you can remember them.”
Ouch.
“Yeah, you worked hard in school to qualify for the positions you have in your company, but let’s be real, nepotism was 75% of that perceived hard work. I worked twice as hard as you, at least. I’ve sweated more. I’ve taken bigger falls and more flack. For the love of God…” she shakes her head, clicking her tongue, “I’ve gotten on my knees in front of you, let you spank me, come in my ass, and call me a fucking slut. Normally I would castrate a man for doing that, but for some reason you have also charmed me into letting you get away with whatever you want.”
I remain silent. Don’t feel like being castrated, after all.
“So here’s the deal, Mathers. I’ll give you money. I’ll give you everything you need and then some. Except you have to do something for me. Do you know what?”
I know.
I dare not say it.
Her hand touches my chest. My breath catches inside my ribs, bruising them from within. This touch is Kathryn, and yet it’s not the touch I know from her at all. She’s squeezing me, clutching my shirt, getting ready to pop my buttons open.
Tear me apart.
Ruin me.
I swallow, hard.
“If you want the money so badly…” Her mouth twists into a smile that makes my cock annoyingly hard. Fuck me. “Earn it and submit to me.”
Haha.
Hahahahaha. She said words.
My throat is dry. My cock is harder than it has any right to be. My heart is pounding in my chest. Did I mention that I’m hard?
“What?” I ask, drolly. “Right now?”
“Ha. No.” Kathryn releases me. “That wouldn’t be fair. You gave me time to mentally prepare for your brand of domination. Now I give you time to prepare for mine. I want your decision by Thursday. If you say yes, I’ll give you half before and then half after. No getting out of it, unless you want to go find seven a half million dollars elsewhere.”
“I can give you my answer.”
She glances at my crotch.
“No.”
I meet surprise. “No?”
“No.” I can throw that smile right back at her. “I don’t do that.”
It’s a duel of the willful smiles. “Maybe money isn’t enough to sway you, but…” she unbuttons her jacket, showing me her cleavage. Almost compelling. “Do you love me, Ian?”
I want to touch her, but I don’t. Instead, I curl my fingers into the jacket I’m holding, hoping it’s enough to hold me back. “Of course, my love. I love you. And I don’t say that lightly.”
“Do you want to be with me?” Her voice is so soft that I almost don’t hear the plea within it. “Do you want me?”
“That should go without saying.”
“Then do this at least once. I want to dominate you, Ian. I want to see you in front of my feet, worshiping the ground I walk on. I want to take you the edge and back again. I want you to feel the way you make me feel.”
The way I make her feel…
“Once. If you really don’t like it afterward, then I’ll never ask it of you again.”
“And I’ll get the money for my business.”
“Funny how that all works out.”
Funny, indeed.
“Like I told you, you’ve got until Thursday.” Her arms wrap around my shoulders, and I smell her breath on my lips. When she kisses me, it’s like a one-two punch to my heart and my hard-on. “After that,” no, come back, kiss me again, “I will assume you’re not interested. In the money.” Katie pulls away, sullen. “Or me.”
I leave in a daze, my senses full of Kathryn Alison. Her scent in my nose, her voice in my ear, her touch on my lips and the taste of her tongue on mine. Her image remains in my brain all the way down in the elevator.
“I will assume you’re not interested in the money… or me.”
I text her.
“You know I’m interested in both.”
It’s not my final answer.
Chapter 22
KATHRYN
I’ve been feeling such a rush for the past few days. From the moment I told Ian my terms, I’ve felt myself coming back to the person I always knew I was.
No, not like that, silly. What I mean is that I’m back at top form. The Kathryn I always present myself as.
Ian likes to think he was practicing a perfect poker face, but I felt him waver. I saw him consider what I told him. And even though I’ve spent the past few weeks convinced that I no longer wanted to dominate him, I now know how wrong I was.
That man needs a Mistress to keep him in line.
Ian was the first person to see the potential to submit within me. He wasn’t wrong. What he didn’t see, however, was the potential inside himself as well.
To be fair, I didn’t see it at first either. When it comes to men, they tend to know exactly what they want, whether that’s dominating, submitting, neither, or both. A man who has been in the scene for as long as Ian is fairly locked into his role. Doms especially don’t like to ever give up power. They’re souped up alpha men who want the world to contour to their whims and needs. I can’t blame them. I often want that power as well.
Can’t you see it? Ian Mathers, treating me like the goddess I deserve to be. From head to toe, I will be adored,
I will feel truly loved.
Oh, I don’t doubt that the man loves me, but he’s asked so much of me already that I can’t imagine giving more of who I am and taking nothing back in return. The man wants me to be a switch? Fine. He’d better be willing to do the same for me.
I tell Eva as much over lunch at her place.
She whistles, shaking her head over an empty plate of spaghetti and salad. “He’s never going to do it,” she says with hesitation. “The man has no real reason to question his own identity like you have.”
I give her a look.
“Don’t do that. You may have told him that the only way to keep you was to try it, but he’s still a man at the end of the day. This isn’t some lesbian ranting. This is cold, hard reality. You know it as much as I do… he’ll cry about it for a few weeks until he finds a new, more inclined sub to do what he wants. She’ll probably be blond, if it makes you feel any better.”
Hardly.
“You don’t know him like I do.” Pasta swirls on my plate as I push it into the design of a smiley face. Meatballs are eyes. Some parsley creates a cute nose. “He’s head over heels in love with me. Plus, his family really needs that money. He’ll definitely consider it.” There. A perfect Italian smiley face, now with extra oregano for seasoning. “Whether or not he bites… well, I’ll find out by tomorrow.”
Eva studies me, shaking her head slowly. “Please don’t set yourself up for heartbreak. I don’t understand what you see in this guy, and I doubt I ever will, but I care about you. You deserve happiness. Please be careful.”
That is perhaps one of the sincerest things Eva has ever said to me. Usually she layers her words in jokes and crude threats, but this is the genuine concern of a friend and confidant. Not that I never trusted her in this capacity before – we wouldn’t be best friends otherwise.
But hearing her like this makes me reconsider what I’ve done.
No, I’m not taking back my ultimatum. I can’t show that kind of weakness in front of Ian. I don’t want him thinking that he can wait for me to get over my Domme snits and then back to business as usual. That would not be sustainable in a relationship with me.
And it shouldn’t have to be.
However, let us face the facts. I love Ian. Ian loves me. We’re two stupid assholes in love and yet fundamentally incompatible. Something has to be done about that.
This is me attempting to take control of my life and heart. It’s the least I could do for myself.
Halfway through helping Eva with the dishes – because this is a woman who is too lazy to hire a housekeeper for more than one day a week, and if I leave the dishes here, they will pile up with the rest of them until next Monday – my phone buzzes with a text message. I think nothing of it as I walk over and pick it up, staring at Ian’s name with a black and white picture of a rose in the background.
Fitting, isn’t it?
“I’ve made my decision. Meet me for dinner tonight so we can talk about it.”
I show Eva the message. She frowns, soap suds hanging from her hands as she lets faucet water beat one of our plates from lunch.
“What?”
She shakes her head again. “He’s going to tell you no. Or if he says yes, there is going to be a huge stipulation. I am telling you.”
I text Ian back for more details. “Say what you will.”
“I will. And tomorrow when you call me up, I hopefully won’t be saying I told you so.”
***
Ian finagled reservations at the French place downtown. I say “the” French place because, even though there are at least three French eateries around here, only one is worthy of our attention. Naturally, it is the most expensive one.
Dressed in my best, which to most means a black dress, I enter the restaurant with my head held high and my hair pinned higher. After all, I’ve garnered over the past few weeks that Ian Mathers finds me particularly intimidating – or sexy, depending on the night – when I wear my hair up like this.
“I’m here to meet with Ian Mathers,” I tell the host. “He’s expecting me.”
The hosts at these places are paid well. Partly because they have to be discreet, good actors, and polite to a fault. This one is no different, but I catch a look of disbelief in his eyes as I tell him who I’m meeting. That’s right, buddy. Your bigshot Mathers – wherever you’re keeping him – has a date with this looker.
“Right this way, ma’am.”
I’m led through the belly of the restaurant, past friendly and not so friendly eyes. Nobody I recognize offhand. I’m sure they recognize me. This is high society. This is middle-class couples who have saved up all year to come here on birthdays and anniversaries. A full meal here costs at least a couple hundred dollars, and that doesn’t include drinks.
I hope Ian got us some wine. I’m parched.
When I step into the small but private room, I find out why the host is so surprised at my presence. Or at least my sultry look.
The room is dark. The table is littered with candles and flowers, rose petals creating a romantic trail from the door to my chair opposite Ian. More petals dance around the scented centerpiece. A glass of red wine waits for me, my plate already filled with salad.
Ian sits on the far side, welcoming me with a raise of his glass.
“Your meal has already been ordered, ma’am,” the host says, taking the door handle and closing me into this room with a fucking Dom. “Please ring if anything is needed.”
Yeah, I need a stiffer drink than wine.
“Kathryn.” Ian gestures to the seat across from him. The one covered in rose petals. “Thank you for joining me tonight.”
Warily I sit, my purse slipping off my shoulder and landing unceremoniously on the floor. There’s a wooden basket provided for bags, but I can’t be assed to place mine in there. I’m too dumbfounded.
Well, I guess I know his answer.
“It was the least I could do.” I keep my manners proper as I fix my purse and sit up straight in my chair. I’m even gladder that I wore my hair up and out of the way. “Especially after what I asked of you.”
“Yes. Let’s talk about that.”
I stare at the salad, picking up a fork and stabbing a piece of spinach. I sort of hate that Ian knew exactly what I would want and then had the gall to order for me. I’m not his sub tonight. I’m not even here as his girlfriend, really. And yet I feel… taken care of.
I’m sure he’s paying tonight.
That is the one appealing thing about having a Dom, or at least a very alpha boyfriend. He will take care of you. Dote on you. Make sure you have everything you need and then some. Not just financially – not that I need help with that – but emotionally. Ian never has to order for me. He does it as a way of coddling me. I’m guilty of thinking this as controlling many years ago, back when I first got into the kink scene. Now I get it. It’s comforting.
I did not come here to be comforted.
“You’re radiant,” Ian says in a smooth manner that makes me think of being seduced in the club. Seduced as a sub. “It’s a shame we’re here to talk business.”
“The rose petals and candles say otherwise.”
Ian leans forward, the glow of the centerpiece candle illuminating his steely visage. Those hazel eyes penetrate my brain, and his self-assured grin… so arrogant. So arrogant. So fucking arrogant and drop-dead gorgeous.
“Who says that business and pleasure can’t mingle?” He snorts. “Certainly not you. You’re the one asking this man to prostitute himself for fifteen million.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way…”
“You’ve got the biggest balls of any woman I know. I admire that. I also admit that it’s fairly sexy.”
“Thanks.”
Salad enters my mouth. I chew methodically, keeping my eyes neither downcast nor locked on his. I don’t want to look avoidant or too interested, after all.
“I’m not easily bought, even by you, Kathryn. I will need something from you if I am to deign to do that…”
He’s kidding. Asking more of me? Hasn’t he asked enough already? This whole relationship has been him asking things of me!
“All right. I’ll bite. What is it you want from me?”
Ian’s eyes burn into mine. Now I can’t look away. I’m stuck with carrots in my teeth, but I don’t pick them out in front of him. Perhaps if this were a regular date. One where I could covertly cover my mouth with the handkerchief and pick until my teeth were sparkly clean. Holy shit, I do not dare. I cannot compromise my demeanor. I cannot be any less than perfect Kathryn Alison, the woman who can go toe-to-toe with Ian Mathers.
I’ve been that woman before, and I will continue to be her.
And yet… shit, look at him. He wants to eat me alive. He wants to devour me, consume me, suck the soul right from my body and hold onto it for all eternity. He would, too. I’ve had plenty of sex with him now to know that he would do that if he was in the mood.
The sub in me – Katie, let’s call her – wants that to happen. She wants to blush, smile, giggle, and get ready for a night of being whisked away into a hot BDSM fantasy.
Kathryn is squishing her down for now. There is no room for sub Katie at this discussion. Sub Katie is great at getting Kathryn in trouble and derailing the original subject. So, fuck Katie. Not literally, Ian.
“There’s only one last thing I want from you, Kathryn.” Ian’s voice is laced in controlled desire. For me. The shivers I feel can get the hell out. “I want the world to know that you submit to me.”
I pick up my wineglass and sample a taste. It beats looking him in the eye… plus, I get alcohol. Because what he suggested is from another planet.
Me. Being publically declared his sub.
“Before you twist the lacy panties I’m sure you’re wearing, I’ll remind you that Dommes have debuted as subs before with no repercussions.” I’m gonna reach across this table and slap the smug right off his face. “Remember Helena? She was in a relationship with that male sub for years. After they broke up, she fell in with Jay Spader, the west coast Dom. Her debut as his sub was… enchanting. The man was the envy of every other Dom in the club that night.”
“Of course I remember dear Helena,” I say sweetly. “She used to be a friend of mine.”
“Before she moved out west with Jay?”
I butter a biscuit and pick off a flake. “Before she turned traitor.”
The silence falling between us could slaughter an army.
Helena used to be a friend of mine, years ago. She partied in my circle of Dommes while she dated that sub. Nobody ever pegged her as a switch, since sometimes that comes out after a few drinks or it’s given freely. Like I’ve said before, nobody gives a shit if a Domme also switches with the right partners. Being a Domme is a lifestyle, but it’s also intrinsic to our personalities. As Ian has shown me, however, sometimes we want to let go of control too.
No, what happened was she started dating Jay Spader out of nowhere. Everyone knew he was a hardcore Dom. More hardcore than Ian. That man wanted a life of domination and submission. Normally we wouldn’t bat an eyelash, but the fact Helena volunteered to be his Monica Graham sent more than a few ripples in the group of Dommes I know.
I don’t go into these details with Ian, however. He needs to understand what I’m possibly giving up. Like a social life. Business dealings.
For what? Love?
How much do I really love this guy?
“Your apprehension is noted,” Ian says. “Don’t get me wrong, Kathryn. I would want to do it right. I want to debut you properly as my permanent sub.”
“Your permanent sub… you may have opened a little black box and asked me to marry you, but instead of a ring, it’s a tangle of thorns.”
“I mean my permanent sub in the sense that you’re the only woman I Top, not that you’re a full-time sub now. Please, I know how much you’ve enjoyed our times together.”
I purse my lips. “That’s neither here nor there. I wouldn’t have kept up my training if I didn’t enjoy it.” Before he can interrupt, I continue, “You’re asking me to dedicate my life to being a switch. What are you giving me in return?”
Don’t let him know how much you want that, Kathryn. Don’t let him see your knees shaking and your loins aching to have him fuck you, hard and rough, his hand pulling your hair and his mouth telling you what you are.
His.
“I’ll give you a night, Kathryn.” His hands fold on the table. Is he even eating anything tonight? “A night of me doing whatever you want. You want me on my knees like I’ve had you on your knees? Fine. One night. That night will give you the bragging rights of being the only person in this world who will ever dominate this man.”
It should be music to my ears.
It isn’t.
“That’s not good enough.” I drop my utensils, my handkerchief, half of my honor. “I’m not taking some half-hearted sub to bed, Ian Mathers.” The chair screeches as I stand, forcing him to behold my form in candlelight. I am a goddess. He is a mere boy. He should be quaking in his leather shoes to be in my presence, fighting with this table to get to me and begging my feet to worship who I am.
“Fine. I’ll give you bragging rights,” doesn’t come anywhere close.
“If you want me to give myself to you, Mathers, then you need to fully give yourself to me. Not just your body, but your cold, ragged little heart. Oh, and that deliciously pitiful ego of yours. I am going to devour it.”
He opens his mouth.
“No, no. I do not belong to you until you belong to me. You must know that.” I pick up my purse. “If you want me to switch, then you need to switch too, my sweet. Let me tell you, too…” I flash my evilest smile at him. “Like you saw potential in me to serve… I see it in you too. Don’t let fear get in your way, Ian. If you want this… if you want me… then you’ll really come to me like I went to you. Think about it. We could be a formidable team.”
I leave. Not angry. Not bitter. Simply amazed that I had this much of a backbone around him. Usually I am fighting back my inclination to defer to him. I would do anything, and all that. But now, even though I am certainly fantasizing about hopping in his lap and riding him until I come three times, I can hold back.
He will come to me.
