Slave To Her Wicked Desires (4 page)

She left the office and headed down the hallway, glancing at pictures on the crimson walls as she walked to the small medical unit the club held. Pictures of different BDSM scenes were captured in stark black and white or deep shadows. As strange as it would seem, they made her feel right at home. This place was a safe haven for Fiona, and Thomas was like a brother. She was grateful for his help after the scandal inside Strength Inc. stripped her of her career.

She forced thoughts of Peter and the drama out of her mind as she entered the medical unit.

Eli sat on a gurney, still bare chested, but the blood had been cleaned from his nose and pecs. Mary, one of the few nurses they kept on staff, was talking to him as she pressed a cold pack nestled in a cloth to his face. “Ten to twenty minutes of this, at least three times a day.”

He nodded as Fiona drew near. Then he turned to her and said, “Nothing broken.”

“I said it doesn’t look broken,” Mary corrected. “But go get that x-rayed, Eli. You could have a hairline fracture.”

“Yeah, if it heals crooked you’ll mess up your pretty face,” Fiona said.

He shrugged “It’ll add character.”

Fiona and Mary both scowled at him.

Eli held his hands up. “Okay, fine, I’ll go get it x-rayed.” He rolled his eyes as Mary walked away, then he slid off the gurney and wrapped an arm around Fiona’s waist as they walked out of the medical unit. “But not unless you promise to come home with me. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

She turned to him and stopped, placing her arms against his broad chest. “I’ll be fine. Actually, Eli, I’d like some time alone tonight. I just need to …” Fiona rubbed her forehead. “Kind of collect my thoughts.”

Eli scowled. “What if that asshole comes back while Thomas is locking up? He is his brother. I don’t want him hassling you.” Eli’s anger had spiked higher when Fiona confessed who Nash really was.

She smiled, caressed his stubbled cheek. “Don’t worry, please? Nash won’t be back. I’m going to have a hot shower and fall into bed. I’m exhausted.”

He curled a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “All right,” he said, but his tone indicated he wasn’t happy about leaving her alone. “I’ll swing around after I’m done at the hospital to check on you.”

“Deal.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss over his soft lips. Their tongues briefly met before nurse Mary came out of the medical unit and cleared her throat.

Fiona and Eli parted and she headed up the wrought iron staircase, toward the small apartment where the outburst between her client and his ex-wife had ensued earlier. Thomas was letting her stay here until she got things straightened out. Peter had made a complete mess of her finances as well as her career, and she only had herself to blame for it. She should have gone straight to Daniel Milligan, the CEO of Strength Inc., when Peter first threatened her, should’ve told him about Peter’s addiction. But her stubborn streak made her hold back. That and she’d really thought Murphy was just bluffing. She’d given him the benefit of the doubt one too many times.

Moment later, her leather pants, corset, and the rest of her clothes lay in a heap on the floor. Normally she’d take the time to hang them back up or put them in her dry cleaning bin, but tonight she was just too tired. She grabbed a towel from the armoire near the bathroom and headed for the shower. When hot water sprayed over her face and shoulders, she relaxed and let her shoulders sag.

The last person she’d expected to see today was Nash Falcon. And meeting up with him had thrown a wrench into her equilibrium. Fiona hated that he’d still had an instant physical effect on her. How the body could betray common sense always pissed her off, but she’d bluffed aloofness pretty well, until the kiss Eli intercepted.

Eli … She squeezed shampoo into her hand and scrubbed it vigorously into her hair. Eli Watson was a great guy and a skilled dom. He was a big part of why she’d stayed here to lick her wounds and remake her life. But did she love him? Bah, she didn’t want to think about it. Yet the question continued to haunt her as she walked under the spray to rinse her hair.

Eli was a switch, like her, but primarily worked as a dom for hire for Surrender Inc. She’d met him three months ago, just after the scandal with Peter blew wide open. One late night after a few too many drinks, she’d let Eli pick her up and take her home. Instead of sleeping with him, though, she’d spilled her whole miserable story into his lap. How pathetic. Yet he’d listened, empathized, and, as fate would have it, he worked for Thomas at his Surrender club.

She’d confessed something to Eli that she’d never told anyone. That she was curious about BDSM and the lifestyle attached to it. She knew a bit about the club Thomas ran, but not much. She’d researched the subculture, as it was in her curious nature to do.

“I never had the guts to tell Nash I wanted to try it,” she’d told Eli that night, after one too many tequila shooters. “After the way he acted when I told him if he got two girls, I should get two guys…”

Eli had laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Ever heard of a place called Claim Me?”

“Hell yeah. My ex-brother-in-law owns that club.”

“It’s a small world.” Eli’s broad grin had widened. “I work there.”

He’d offered to train her. She needed a job anyway, especially now she was nearly broke since Peter wiped her one account clean. And he’d promised to take it slow. No sex unless she wanted that. He’d been a kind and patient dom from day one.

Yet he didn’t spark the same instant chemistry that Nash did. Or maybe that was just lunacy Fiona was mistaking for lust.

Some relationships just took longer, needed time to grow, she reasoned. Love would evolve. She was still on the rebound, after all, and probably shouldn’t have been getting into another relationship so soon. She just needed some time to breathe and settle in with Eli.

Through the transparent shower curtain, movement caught her eye after she rinsed body wash from her face. She grabbed the plastic edge, blinking water and suds from her vision as she peered around the barrier. Her heart thudded in her ears.

“Just me, sweetie,” Eli said, holding up his hands before he started to shed his clothes.

“Shit.” She breathed deep, feeling dizzy from the sudden adrenaline rush. “I thought you were that client’s crazy ex coming back to shoot me.”

They shared a laugh then a naked Eli slipped in the tub stall with her.

His big arms wrapped around her, making her feel safe, protected. Full lips pressed into her neck then teeth grazed her skin and she shivered. He stepped back to squeeze some soap into his large palms then he massaged the fragrant, sudsy liquid into her shoulders, working his way down her back. Fiona’s eyes fluttered closed and the last of her tension melted away.

When he was done, she turned to face him, reaching up to cup his cheeks and bring him close for a hungry kiss. She needed this. The release and the intimacy. But as her tongue explored his mouth and his flit over her lips, Nash’s face kept flickering in her mind.

***

Read an excerpt from a sizzling Wild & Lawless release
Surrender To His Command
by Leigh Foxlee.

Surrender To His Command

(Surrender Series Volume 3)

By Leigh Foxlee

“So your friend owns this place?” My eyes grow wide as I follow him and take everything in.

“Yup. It’s a part of the Surrender Inc. franchise. Ever heard of it?” He opens a door made of dark walnut and stands aside so I can enter.

“No.” I take a cautious step over the threshold. “What’s Surrender Inc.?”

My arms brushes over his chest as I walk by and I feel the fine dusting of hair on his chiseled pecs tickle my skin. My face heats and my body feels electric, but I hope I don’t show the effect he has on me. He’s shirtless today, clad in only a pair of tight fitted leather pants. I try not to stare at his chest too much either.

He stops me with a hand snaked around my shoulder. “It’s a sex club and resort franchise. My buddy only owns the one club, but he knows some of the major shareholders. The richest of rich come to play at the main resort, Sanctuary. Or so I’m told. I’ve never been there.”

I simply nod and swallow hard as my gaze takes in the playroom and its contents.

I don’t know a ton about BDSM, but I know enough from the erotic romance I’ve read, and some of Jeanie’s dirty magazines, to know a spanking bench when I see one. There’s also a rack that reminds me of medieval torture devices. A cross with shackles for wrists and ankles. And stocks. Glass cases line the walls and these are filled with whips, collars, handcuffs. He explains more about the room’s contents as he leads me around.

“Pick your pleasure,” he says, stopping in front of me.

The heat from his body makes the tiny hairs on mine stand on end. I try to breathe normally, act cool. This is just practice after all. Not the real thing.

Still, I stall for time. “Why do you need to practice anyway? How can someone be a failure dominant?” I regret the last sentence the moment it leaves my lips.

He glares at me, purses his lips, then his face becomes an aloof mask, but I can still sense the anger simmering under the surface. “Some of my clients feel I’ve been too soft on them. I need to learn not to hold back. To respond to my submissive’s wants and needs by observing their cues and better communication. Failure is not an option.”

He sounds like Arnold Schwarnehager in a bad sci-fi movie, but I don’t tell him that. I have the good sense to bite my tongue this time. However, I can’t help but ask, “What happens if you do fail?”

He looks annoyed, but he holds the mask of aloof calm, control. “Then I’m out a job, or I go back to tending bar at this place. And this job pays better than the bar tending. So you’re helping me as much as I’m helping you. See?”

The arm around my shoulder slides to my waist, raising tiny goose pimples down my back as it does. I suck air between my teeth.

“Who’s paying my salary then?” I’m curious, but I also still don’t quite trust him.

He can tell, and little wrinkles form at the bridge of his nose as his frown deepens. “My buddy. He’s investing in me. Let’s put it that way. Let’s get started.”

I cast him a dubious look, but his stony face says more questions are not welcome. His elusive buddy makes me suspicious, but I decide if payment is late or anything goes wrong, I’m out of here and out of this job faster than you can say chocolate and peanut butter. I have the weekend off from both my other jobs--wonder of wonders--but I haven’t given my notice yet, just in case things don’t work out. Like I said, never trust a bad boy.

He crosses his nicely defined arms over his chest. “Have you decided?” Pins me with an intimidating stare.

My decision is based on my last assignment for my historical law class. I point to the stocks, hoping they’ll be the least harmful and compromising instrument of torture.

He nods and, taking my hand, leads me to it.

My heart does a double-time beat in my ears. “What am I suppose to do as your practice sub?”

He opens up the polished, pine stocks and gestured for me to get in. “I’m going to read your response and ask you how it feels. What you like and don’t like. What you want more of and what you don’t. We’ll have safe words you can use should you become uncomfortable with anything. Remember the ones I included in the contract?”

Vaguely, I do. We go over them again as I gingerly place my head in the cool bevel at the center of the wood then drape my wrists within the smaller notches. The stocks lower over my neck and I try not to panic as the hinges give a tiny squeak and he snicks the lock shut.

Breathe deep. In and out.
Relax
, I tell myself.

“And now you’re going to … spank me?” I hate how meek I sound, but I admit the feeling of vulnerability that rushes over me at being bound this way is oddly enjoyable.

He crouches in front of me, takes my chin in his hand, grins as he gazes into my eyes. “You bet I am.”

“So what’re you taking in college?” he asks as he walks toward a wall full of glass cases.

“Law,” I simply say, not trusting my voice to get out much else.

He turns back to me, holding a paddle that reminds me of ping pong games played with my sister. “A lawyer, huh? I might have to spank you twice as hard.”

My cheeks flush with heat at his threat. “Haha. Like I haven’t heard a hundred or more lawyer jokes by now.”

He just gives a sexy grin as he shows me the paddle and then walks behind me. Every click of his boots makes my stomach tighten and my mouth a little drier.

Through my jeans, I feel the surface of the paddle skim over my butt. First one cheek and then he slides it across the other. My stomach grows tighter still and that traitorous thing between my legs tingles with more heat. I bite my bottom lip then clench and unclench my hands.

“You ready, sweetie?” His voice is a sexy drawl that makes my nipples stiffen.

“Ready,” I croak, thinking,
as I’ll ever be
.

The paddle skims up my back, charging my skin with electric energy as it slides across my thin t-shirt. He slips it down over my sides, down my hips. As he does so, one big leg nudges between mine. Our knees touch and then our thighs rub against each other. My sex screams to be touched. My nipples are aching. I bite my lip harder, wondering when the first whack will happen, when--

Smack!

The paddle whistles through the air before it slams into my ass. A sharp sting radiates out from where it hits, and I cry out “Ouch!” He asks if I’m still comfortable with continuing and I say yes. The pain intrigues me, stirs my darker sexual fantasies I’ve never confessed to anyone. Not Ethan, not one of the bad boys I’ve dated.

He traces the paddle from my inner knee up my thigh and I tense. He promised no sex and no touching naughty bits. I fist my hands, waiting, wondering if he’ll break my rule and what I’ll do then. But just as the paddle sweeps to the mid-thigh of my jeans, he pulls it away and then swirls circles at the base of my spine.

“How’s this feel so far?” he asks, his voice husky enough to do things to me. “Tell me what it’s like for you.”