Anything for Him: Dominated (#1) (7 page)

BOOK: Anything for Him: Dominated (#1)
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To her surprise the way her head was
positioned made it almost ridiculously easy to deep throat his dick. She
lingered along the shaft, stroking the belly with her tongue, eliciting an
inhale from him. Her tongue swirled across the tight helmet and then rubbed the
indented spot right below it. She nipped adroitly at the head and he hissed in
a breath.

“I’m going to come,” Danny ground out.

Looking up at his face, swollen and red,
his eyes narrowed to slits, made pride flow through Meghan. She considered
gurgling out, ‘Say please’ but decided against it but the spark of mischief
that thought had lit in her remained. She took him out of her mouth for one
moment and said, ”Why thank you Sir,” and Danny howled laughter even as his
hardness began to throb and pulse inside the channel of her throat.

He went to the bathroom to clean himself
and came back bearing a soft, scented cloth that he had dampened with warm
water. She lay blissful and still as he cleaned her gently and then unbound
her. They cuddled together, her head cradled on his strong chest and their
limbs intertwined.

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

 

A few hours later they were both dressed
and having lunch at a small café on the east side of town. A filthy young man
with blonde dreads under a knitted cap was blowing some of the sweetest jazz
Meghan had ever heard and every few moments Danny would look up at some note or
another and nod his head.

The man came over to their table and
asked, “Hey man, how about a contribution to the cause?”

Danny pulled a twenty out of his pocket
and handed it over. The young man’s eyes gleamed with blue fire and he yelled,
“Hey all right! Thanks man! That is so fucking awesome!” before he dashed down
the avenue and out of sight.

“Would you like to see the museum?” Danny
asked. “There is a great new exhibit there this week.”

“I would love to!” Meghan answered
cheerfully. “That is what I missed the most, having the money to go to museums.
I wish, oh how I wish that they were all free. I understand they have huge
operating costs but think of all the people who never get to see the things
inside simply for lack of money.”

“I know exactly how that feels,” Danny
said. “Shall we walk? It’s just a few blocks.”

“Walking sounds good to me.”

Danny held out his arm and she took it,
her fingers settling in the crook of his elbow. It occurred to her how
unusually old fashioned his manners were. He opened every door for her, he
insisted on walking on the outside of every hallway and sidewalk, he put his
hand on the small of her back to guide her into a room. A smile creased her
face as they walked through the mild air.

The street was small and tucked into a
quiet neighborhood, the grinding traffic of the city had dulled to a faraway
roar and neither of them paid any attention to the low black car cruising
behind them.

Meghan heard an engine slow down and a
car door open but she thought nothing of it. Neither did Danny. One minute they
were discussing their favorite painters; the next two men wearing ski masks
came running up behind them, it was their footsteps that alerted Danny.

He turned already prepared to fight and
his fist sent one man crashing to the ground but a third jumped from the car.
Meghan was knocked sideways over the wrought iron banister of a stoop. Her
palms and knees collided with hard concrete and she screamed in pain. There was
a short and serious scuffle going on between Danny and the three men and she
got to her feet and dashed in.

Her fists connected with the back of one
man’s head, he shook her off and sent her back down onto the ground. Danny
punched another one, sending bright scarlet blood squirting from his nose. The
sounds of the scuffle caused a window above to open and she yelled, “Call the
police!” before charging back in.

She was knocked down a third time and
that time her head connected with a gray concrete stair. Dark spots exploded in
her vision and she put a shaking hand up to the wet trickle of blood oozing
down her forehead. Danny was still fighting but he was one against three and he
was being dragged away slowly but surely.

Meghan stared in horror as he was shoved
into the car and the door slammed shut. The engine revved and roared and the
tires squealed, leaving black streaks on the pavement. As the car passed her
she saw one of the men yank the mask off of his face and she let out a tiny
shrill sound that was half disbelief, half misery.

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

The cops had taken her statement and she
sat, alone and in a huddle, on the same stoop that had almost knocked her out.
The ambulance drivers wanted her to go to the hospital but she refused. While
she had told the cops almost everything she had not told them all of it, she
knew who one of the men who had abducted Danny was.

He was Gerry Moore; a shadow of a man
known to do her father’s bidding.

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

Night had fallen and she stood in the
shadows that gathered around her family’s summer home. The light burning in one
of the lower windows cast a square of golden light on the well-tended lawn and
she skirted it stealthily before heading for a small but sturdy drainpipe
against the easterly facing wall.

The alarm would go off if she so much as
touched the wall but the window above her was open, it had a broken latch that had
yet to be repaired, a fact she knew because she had been the one to break it
and she had never told anyone, she had been too afraid she would get yelled at.

“Hi Daddy,” she muttered as she reached
for the drainpipe, “It’s the prodigal daughter. And I have come for my man.”

She put one hand over the other and began
the climb.

~ * ~ * ~

 

The window loomed above her head and
Meghan pulled herself up with one last effort. She put her fingers on the frame
and pushed lightly, hoping that nobody had discovered the broken latch.

To her immense relief the window swung
open soundlessly and she clambered inside. Her feet hit the thick carpeting and
she stood there, adrenaline pumping through her veins and a slight sheen of
sweat coating her body. Her breath was a little too fast and it hit her that as
serious as what she was doing was, she was actually having fun.

She let her eyes adjust to the gloom.
There was a faint gleam of light coming from one direction, it was boxy in
shape and so she knew that the door lay that way, and that the hallway had been
left lit. That might pose a problem, she admitted to herself.

She knew the house fairly well but the
truth was she had been left at the house in the city more than she had been
brought to the waterfront house in which she stood. She knew, thanks to Gregory
locking her in them, that there was an extensive underground cellar system,
complete with a wine cellar and a small room that had been used to hold the
flotsam and jetsam of their summer lives: old boogie boards and the wicker lawn
furniture, the croquet sets and the nets from the tennis courts. She doubted
that they would be holding Danny in there; it was too small to even walk in,
much less contain a man as large and powerful as he was.

That left the wine cellar and the dank
old rooms that were what Gregory gleefully called the horror chamber when they
had been kids. After he had locked her in there that summer she had been
relieved to be allowed to stay away from the house during the summers. Being
alone in the city had not been as difficult for her as her family would have
thought it was for her.

The oldest section of the house it
contained long shelves that were filled with the literal fruits of her
grandmother’s labor. Having weathered a Depression and two husbands her
grandmother Ellie was not one to waste money or turn her back on traditions.
She had often grown huge gardens filled with fruits and vegetables, canning
quite a lot of them as well. She had retired from the city completely in the
years before her death and the section of cellar that she had used to store
those tightly sealed jars had never been cleaned out. In other families that
would have been due to sentiment, in the Lowry’s case the room simply sat there
unremarked and mostly forgotten because nothing about their plain beauty held
appeal.

Meghan hated the cellar but she knew if
she was going to help Danny she had to go down there, it was the only place
that they could hope to hide him and keep him hidden. It was not yet the season
but there were locals who lived nearby and many of them worked for the people
who owned the large waterfront homes, if any of them saw something suspicious
at any house they would report it.

The room she stood in had been her
bedroom when she had been allowed to spend time at the house. She cast a glance
around it, there was nothing of her personality imprinted upon it, the curtains
were the same spotless white voile, the floors were gleaming hardwood, and the
bed lay under smoothed straight linens. The same bland seascapes dotted the
walls and as she passed the armoire she caught sight of a glimmer of lace.
Curious she eased the door open and found herself staring at her forgotten
confirmation dress. She had been drinking an orange soda, she remembered, and
she had gotten a spot on it and her mother had been furious, the dress and the
day had both been ruined by that spot. The dress had somehow managed to escape
the trash barrel or being given away to charity and as she looked at it Meghan
found herself wanting to weep with frustration and sorrow.

“Why did you hate me so much? It couldn’t
have just been money,” she whispered and then she softly closed the door as she
realized that she was wasting precious time.

The hallway was lined with old-fashioned
sconces. Her grandmother had loved them and she had refused to have them
removed. Meghan put her back to the wall and clung to the shadows as she neared
the landing, her ears straining to hear any noise that would tell her if there
were other people in the house. She had seen her father’s jaguar parked in the
garage when she had peeked inside, parked cheek and jowl to the low black car.
Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point by the time she had cleared the
graceful staircase and stood in the low ceilinged kitchen. The door to the
cellar was firmly closed but a bottle of brandy stood on the granite countertop
with a lipstick-imprinted glass next to it. Meghan knew that color all too
well; it was a deep plummy red shot through with gold undertones. It was her
mother’s signature color and had been for years, it was made specifically for
her.

The wave of anger that crested inside her
at the sight of that lipstick shocked her. She had often feared her mother, and
there had been many days when she had wished for her approval but she had never
felt anger, and she was not sure how to deal with that emotion.

She was still standing there, too caught
up in the unexpected feeling to pay attention to her surroundings when she
caught the musky spice of her mother’s perfume mingled with fresh cigarette
smoke. She whirled around just in time to see Gloria come through the small
door that led to the patio.

The surprise on her mother’s face quickly
turned to suspicion and uneasy fear, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Where is he?” Meghan hissed.

“Who?”

“Danny.”

“I have no idea.”

“Yes you do. Gerry took him, I was with
him when it happened and the car is here. Tell me where they are right now.”

Meghan had a feeling that her mother
would not tell her, and what was more she knew from hard experience that
nothing said or down on the top floor could be heard in the cellar so she was
not really concerned that someone would hear the two of them, she was trying to
make up her mind what to do with her.

“Get out of my house.” Gloria said
casually and turned her back, reaching for the glass and bottle on the counter.

“Did you use my money to keep living
here?”

The words were as lethally sharp as any
knife. Gloria actually flinched. “
Your
money,” she sneered as she
reached for the bottle yet again, Meghan saw her hand tremble as she lifted it
to pour another finger of the amber colored liquor into the heavy bottomed
glass. “You know, that man is just some blue collar opportunist who turned
petty thievery into millions.”

“Unlike you and father, who turned
millions into nothing with your thievery?”

“I like that caustic tone on you. It
makes you sound like you actually have a backbone.”

“I do have a backbone.” The words were
quiet but they rang with sincerity.

Gloria’s eyes came to rest on the silver
cuffs and her lips moved to form words but before she could the doorknob on the
door she had entered through jiggled. Meghan slid to the right and grasped the
doorknob for the door that opened the door to the cellar. She took one step
into the inky darkness of the staircase and it was from there that she saw
Gerry move into the room, his sullen and grim face as large as a moon over the
pistol that gleamed dully in his right hand.

BOOK: Anything for Him: Dominated (#1)
8.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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