Graham's Fiance (3 page)

“Um...thank you. Yes, it is. Graham gave it to me a few days ago.”

Three days before, to be precise. The happiest night of her life. In the light of Michael’s knowledge, she forced a carefree smile to her mouth as she lifted the pitcher to pour the two glasses of lemonade. She couldn’t help but notice the slight tremor to her hand as she poured the drinks.

“Let me.”

Michael reached out and took the pitcher from her in mid-pour, completely filling up one glass before filling up the other. He set the pitcher down on the tray and picked up his glass, and sat back into the sofa. He sipped his lemonade.

“Thank you. It’s delicious.”

“I wish I could take credit for it, but it’s Graham’s fabulous chef. He makes everything to eat and drink in the house.”

She cursed the faint tremor in her voice as she spoke. She was not ashamed of this, dammit! Michael took another sip of his lemonade and put the glass back on the tray.

“If this is what you want, then I’m happy for you,” he said, uncannily addressing what was lingering in her mind. “I’m very familiar with collars and what they mean,” Michael paused, watching her face, “Years ago, with my ex-wife, I wore one.”

Savannah drew in a surprised breath. “You...you did?”

Michael shrugged. “I was young, only twenty two, and wasn’t sure yet what I wanted. Through my ex-wife, I eventually found myself and realized the things that I didn’t want, including that collar.”

His voice was low but matter-of-fact, revealing this part of his past in a way that made her realize it was the absolute truth, designed to both pull them closer and to make her realize he did not judge harshly based on what he now knew about her lifestyle. Savannah smiled, feeling extraordinarily pleased at his revelation. Suddenly not alone.

“I’ve never lived this way before,” she murmured. “But ever since I found out about love and sex, I wanted to. I’ve found something with Graham that I feel I’ve been looking for all my life.”

Michael nodded, his gaze intent on her face. “I know what you mean.”

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes alighting on the sweating glass of lemonade on the tray, the demure fold of Savannah’s legs, the wide mirror on the wall that reflected the casual opulence of the room.

“Sometimes,” he began very carefully. “Sometimes, the dreams that we find ourselves living can in reality be nightmares.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just keep your eyes open. Enjoy your life, but be aware of your surroundings. If you ever feel unsafe, listen to those feelings, protect yourself.”

Savannah stared at him. “I’ve never felt unsafe here.” But at the back of her mind, she remembered Marie’s warning from earlier in the week, the times when some vague unease had touched her. “Michael, please don’t say those things. Everything is fine here.”

“I’m not saying anything wrong, Savannah. I just want you to be careful. Love him, but love yourself more.”

She took a deep breath, feeling a descent of sadness. To have found a kindred spirit in one moment then to lose him in the next. “I think you should leave,” she said.

Michael only nodded. He drained his lemonade and put the empty glass on the tray beside her mostly full one. He stood up.

“I hope to see you again soon,” he said.

“I don’t think so.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded dull and dispirited.

“Whatever you need, that’s what you’ll have,” he said. There was a low tone of command in his voice, one that she suddenly realized reminded her of Graham. That awareness disturbed her in some way she couldn’t name.

He lightly squeezed her elbow and she flinched from him. His mouth tightened briefly then, after a significant look at her, he left the room. Long moments later, she heard the front door open and close. She imagined him walking down the front steps of the mansion, getting into his car and driving away, his eyes lingering on the building.

Did he think that Graham or anyone else in the house would hurt her? How dare he presume? The more she thought about the end of Michael’s visit, the angrier she became.

He claimed to understand what she had found with Graham and in the next breath he was making terrible insinuations.

Savannah took the lemonade back to the kitchen and in the fridge, deliberately shutting Michael and his visit from her mind. She shoved the pitcher into the corner of the full fridge where she got it from, carefully arranging the bottles of mineral water so the fridge door could close properly.

“What did that man want?”

Savannah whirled around at the unexpected sound of Marie’s voice, her heart slamming in her chest. The fridge door slammed shut.

“What the fuck?” she breathed through startled lips.

The other woman stood there unrepentant, merely waiting for Savannah’s explanation. Her stone face and authoritative tone made Savannah want to tell her to go mind her own damn business. But she had never been one for rudeness.

“He dropped by to congratulate me on my engagement to Graham.” Savannah moved away from the fridge and toward the door leading out of the kitchen.

“Was that all?” Marie’s voice sounded as if she expected there to be more. More of something in particular.

“Of course. What else could he have to tell me?” Savannah looked at her with an eyebrow arched in inquiry. What was it that Marie was worried Michael would say to her?

The other woman said nothing, merely turned and brushed past her to get out of the kitchen. What the hell is that about? Very slowly, she followed after Marie’s fading footsteps, heading back to the living room where she left her book, and her piece of mind.

Another two days passed and Graham still stayed away. While he was gone, Savannah met up with Elise to discuss the coming wedding, she did her job at the office, all the while fielding questions from her boss and co-workers about her plans on leaving the job once she was married. At the end of the long week, she found herself in the library again, the only room in the massive house where she truly felt comfortable. The staff moved silently around her. The fleet maids who came once a week to clean the large dwelling from top to bottom. Marie and a young woman who Savannah assumed was her assistant.

She curled up in the chair, reading the latest paperback from her favorite romance publisher. After over an hour fully engrossed in her book, a change in the air around her made her glance up and look around. Very faintly, she thought she heard a masculine voice, a deep rumble of sound with words that she couldn’t make out. Graham? She put down the book and was about to stand when he appeared in the doorway of the library.

“
Graham!” She shot to her feet and ran to him.

But even as she approached him, she became aware that there was something wrong. He wasn’t smiling. In fact, his face looked downright grim. His eyes were like ice as they looked at her. She stopped a few feet from him.

“Graham?”

“Savannah,” his voice was cold. “Who have you been entertaining since I’ve been gone?”

Entertaining? She shook her head, then she remembered Michael’s unexpected visit from two days before. “An old friend came to visit, that’s all,” she said.

“You mean that cop?” He spat the last word the same way another person might say “cockroach” or “pedophile.” Savannah stared at him in shock.

“Yes, Michael is a cop but he’s also a friend. A good friend.” She abruptly remembered the conversation she’d had with Michael a few days before and the way he’d shared himself with her, how he’d warned her.

“I told you before, I don’t want you seeing any other men. What part of that didn’t you understand?”

“But you said that Michael was nothing to you, that he—”

“Shut up.”

Savannah’s mouth snapped shut.

She wanted to say more. She wanted to say the same thing she’d said the first time when he’d accused her of “seeing” Michael, that they had just happened to run into each other and there was nothing for Graham to worry about. Even he’d admitted that Michael was less than nothing for him to fear where Savannah’s affections were concerned. But now, even more than that afternoon when she’d had coffee with Michael, Graham was furious. He was coldly and terrifyingly angry with her.

“Go upstairs and fetch me the wooden hairbrush from the bedroom,” he said through his clenched teeth.

Savannah bit her lip, wanting to protest that she’d done nothing wrong, but seeing that small hesitation from her threw even more fuel on the fire of Graham’s temper. He took a single step toward her. Savannah made a sound of fright in her throat and dashed for the door. In minutes, she was back with the brush to find Graham sitting in the sofa. She turned to shut the door.

“Leave it open,” he said coldly.

She trembled at his tone. Her legs jerked like a marionette’s as she walked toward him, the brush clenched in her hand. She handed it to him. Very gently, he took it from her. After one look at her, he carefully examined the wooden brush, the long and thick handle, the wide and flat back.

“Take off your panties,” he said. Once she had the white thongs balled up in her fist, he nodded toward her skirt. “Now, pull up your skirt and lay across my lap.”

Another tremor moved through Savannah. Although this had echoes of the previous time Graham punished her for seeing Michael, she could see that this time felt very different. His anger was colder, harder. She felt a fear she hadn’t known before. With the panties still clenched in her fist, she lay across his lap with her cheek pressed into the cushions of the couch, her bare butt in the air. The tips of her sandals scraped against the floor. She trembled while she waited for him to do whatever he wanted.

At first, there was simply silence. His breath and hers. The cavernous room and the faint hum of the air conditioner. From beyond the open doors, faint footsteps, the sound of the house full of servants. What if any of them should walk past the door. They would see her like this! They would—

The sharp smack of the wooden brush against her backside stole all thought and breath from her. Pain seared through her in a sharp and violent arch. Agony on her flesh. She jerked in his lap, crying out as another slap landed. Pain upon pain. He didn’t give her a chance to get used to it. Another slap came. And then another and another. She clenched her teeth against the animal noises rising up in her throat. He wasn’t being gentle at all. Not in the least. Her bottom was fire. Her thighs were aglow with pain.

Unlike the last time, he said nothing as he hit her. There was no tenderness, no words to let her know what he was thinking. Nothing but the pain and the metronome movement of the brush in his hand. Tears flooded to Savannah’s eyes.

The wood smashed into her skin, lighting up her entire body in bright pigments of pain. She felt the blows all the way in her spine, in her belly, flowing up in the screams rising up in her throat. She clenched her teeth harder. The brush hit her bare bottom again and again. Savannah was weeping now, the tears falling down her face in thick rivulets as the brush swung through the air, hit her flesh, stole her breath.

But despite the humiliation of it, she was wet. Soaking wet. Even with her tears, she felt the swell of her pussy lips between her legs, the drip of her desire down her thighs. The pain and the pleasure spun in her like a tornado. The more pain he fed her, the more aroused she became, the more her body weakened and begged for release from both.

“Graham, please!” she finally cried out, unable to stand it any longer.

She heard footsteps near the door of the library and she wanted to twist away in shame, but if she moved, things would only be worse. Savannah clenched her eyes tight. She didn’t want to see who was witness to her humiliation. It would be too much. Too much.

The pain had taken over her entire body until she would do anything to get away from it, anything.