Terms of Surrender (16 page)

82

Terms of Surrender

Finally exhausted, he dismounted her, sat on the edge of the bed beside her, naked and drenched in sweat. The room smelled of it and their sex.

He inhaled deep, closed his eyes as he swallowed down the earthy flavor, cock slowly softening with his disappointment.

It always ended the same way for him, no matter how long he drew out the climax—

fierce, but entirely too short, despite the care and time he took to build a relationship with his trainee, despite the intense weeks of re-education.

Though he had to admit, Kate had turned out to be more than a worthy submissive in the end, her obedience and subservience hard-won, but worth it.

She had given herself to him. Mind, body, and soul.

He smoothed her curly hair away from her face, trying to hold on to his earlier excitement, recalling her in the back of his trunk at work.

He liked the idea of driving around with her, all of his trainees, in the trunk of his car, risked taking her, unconscious, to work with him. The payoff, the thrill of knowing she was so close, downstairs in the parking garage, drugged and bound and totally helpless, was a total turn-on worth the danger of discovery.

She'd never woken up inside the trunk before he got her home, not once during any of her special trips into the city. He was very meticulous about the amount of tranquilizer he administered, enough to keep her out for the day, but not enough to do any permanent damage.

He was getting sloppy, a sure sign that he needed to move on to a new experiment, begin plans for acquiring his next trainee.

He sighed as he stood and stepped away from the bed.

He would have to start all over again. And even though he was already hard with the thought of inducting and training a new sub, he was already beginning to miss Kate.

Absurd
.

He hoped Slany was worth the trouble, but deep down, he already knew she would be, sensed her energy and strength, ripe to be siphoned and broken. He wanted the energy for his own, wanted her innocence, wanted to be the one to properly mold her.

He just had to get to her before that bastard Vega ruined her completely and made her unfit for his mastering.

First things first.

He turned to Kate, closed her unseeing eyes with a thumb and forefinger, and prepared to transport her to his special burial site.

He would take care of her. She deserved that much for giving him such an explosive orgasm. But then, he had returned the favor a hundred fold.

He caressed her face before he leaned in to nuzzle her throat, reveled in their mingled scents on her skin, the feel of her nakedness against him.

There was a full moon out tonight. His cock twitched at the idea. He would enjoy seeing her body, committing it to the earth beneath the eerie glow of the evening.

83

Gracie C. McKeever

Yes, he would take care of her. He always took care of his trainees.

He had not been nearly as merciful and caring with his parents as he had been with his subsequent trainees. But then, his parents hadn't done anything to deserve his concern or mercy, had only earned his cold contempt, his wrath.

He pictured the flames licking toward the sky, ravaging timber and peeling paint in their wake, the two people inside probably dead from smoke inhalation long before the fire had gotten to them.

Disappointment had dogged him as he'd stood outside, wrapped in a blanket and watching the fire, his creation. The displeasure only lasted for a moment, frustration quickly wiped away with the arrival of emergency vehicles called to the scene.

His scene, his doing. He'd forced all of these people out of their beds and homes at the crack of dawn, brought all these people together, the spectators watching in awe and fear, the firefighters in full turn-out gear as they ran their lines toward the building, prepared to search for and rescue survivors.

They would find none, the only survivor outside looking in and remembering the embarrassing debacle that had been his fourteenth birthday party earlier in the day.

His father had stepped over the line, committed the final insult and injustice while his mother had stood off to the side as usual and let her husband humiliate their son, denigrating him in front of his few friends, insinuating he had paid all the young guests to attend.

He didn't need friends any more than he needed his parents, and had proven it when he set fire to the house with them inside.

He didn't need anyone, would have been more than happy to stay out on his own before the county had taken pity on him, hunting up an aunt in Connecticut willing to take him in.

As if he were a stray dog or cat.

He went to the closet in the far corner of the room and retrieved his shovel. He started whistling, looking forward to the burial. Looking forward to committing his past to the earth yet again. Looking forward to another new beginning.

He went back to the bed and unbound his trainee's wrists and ankles, then carefully rolled the body up in a blanket before carrying it out to the garage and placing it in the trunk of his sedan.

He returned to the house, body already hardening with the idea of his next abduction as he looked through the dozens of surveillance photos he'd taken of Mr. Ronald Wells.

Married ten years with two kids. A successful, handsome, dark haired, blue-eyed corporate lawyer. The perfect father, the perfect husband, the perfect life and family.

Mrs. Wells was about to suffer a rude awakening.

Mr. Wells was about to be introduced to his inner submissive.

He was going to take special pleasure in taking Mr. Wells' life.

For Slany.

84

Terms of Surrender

"Want to lay odds on how long it's going to take Nick to strip you as soon as he sees that dress?"

Slany glanced down at the black silk spaghetti-strap dress covering her body from shoulders to a couple of inches above her knees, then over her shoulder at Peyton, reclining back on one elbow in the center of Slany's queen size bed. She grinned to cover her nervousness. "I've never been much of a gambler, Peyt."

"Neither have I, but I'm thinking a couple of minutes, max."

Slany smiled, tried to play off her friend's keen observations. She knew Peyton was just trying to calm her down, but the woman was doing anything but, her gibe only emphasizing the amount of care and time Slany had used to pick out her most provocative dress.

She had never taken so much time in her life to prepare for a night out, had never felt as narcissistic as she had trying on outfits and modeling for her friend.

Peyton's words only solidified this perception, how much she had strayed from her laid-back tomboy roots into diva territory.

What happened to the girl who used to skin up her knees on the playground proving she was as rough and athletic as all the boys?

Life happened, a father and two younger siblings to take care of…and a dominant boyfriend to please.

Slany's heart thrummed at the "boyfriend" title, not totally comfortable with it, but more comfortable than she was going out bare beneath.

She should have been used to it by now—spending the day at the office sans panties, self-conscious as hell but quickly assimilating, especially when Nick knowingly grinned at her across the conference table at the morning's quarterly meeting. He had tapped his jacket pocket, as if to remind her of their other encounter when he took her thong, as if to encourage her.

85

Gracie C. McKeever

Slany smiled now at the memory of how the meeting had gone, how close Nick and Knowles had come to blows at its conclusion.

Knowles had approached and put his hands on her hips as he stood behind her. He'd used his position to lean close and compliment her perfume, asking what the special occasion for the skirt was.

Slany barely managed to bark out, "None of your business," before Nick insinuated himself between them.

"Do we have a problem here?"

"I was just complimenting Slany on her outfit. It's a little out of the ordinary for our girl."

Nick gritted his teeth and mumbled, "She's not
our
girl." It was just loud enough for Knowles to hear before he said, "Can I talk to you for a minute?" and caught Slany by an arm, as if
she
had done something wrong. He led her past Knowles out of the conference room, didn't stop until he had her in his office and had closed the door behind them.

Not a second went by after he snapped the door locked before he was all over her, attacking her mouth with his, his hands stimulating nerve endings everywhere, roaming her hair and scalp, bracketing her face, caressing her breasts and thighs.

Nick wedged a knee between her thighs as he caught her by the shoulders and held her in place against the wall. Slany felt like a flyer pushed-pinned to a bulletin board, the position zinging flashes of desire to her center, making her nipples harden and jut out like an offering.

He paused long enough to glare at her, cupped her face. "He had his hands on you, Slany.

That can't happen."

She swallowed, didn't know how to respond.

She was used to fighting her own battles, and despite liking how it felt to have Nick come to her rescue and act her protector, she didn't want to cause any undue friction around the office.

She didn't want him to put his job in jeopardy because of her.

The look on his face said he would do exactly that without any more provocation.

"I can handle him."

He peered at her, didn't say anything for a long time, then just grinned and shook his head. "It's not your place to handle him. It's mine to protect you."

"I'm not going to have you get fired over me."

"Do you really think I'd be reckless enough to give his father-in-law a reason?"

"You look pretty heated."

"Don't worry about how I look. Just realize I know how to control myself. And I know how to handle an asshole like Knowles."

She wondered what exactly that last entailed, other than knocking Knowles on his ass and/or bringing down the wrath of Dunlop.

"Hey, do we understand each other?" Nick gently caught her chin with a pointer and thumb. "The next time he bothers you, I want to know."

86

Terms of Surrender

Slany silently nodded, already deciding to take special pains to stay out of Knowles’

reach, make herself as inconspicuous around him as possible.

Nick leaned in to circle his tongue around her throat and ear. "Did you do as I told you?"

he murmured and reached beneath her skirt before she could respond.

She flushed, knew what he'd find when he touched her. "You know I did."

"I can't ever be sure of anything with you." He raised his head to stare at her. "But that's going to change." He bent his head again to suckle her neck. "God, you drive me crazy. It's a wonder I get any work done at all when you're around." He raised his head to stare at her. "I don't want you to worry about what I'll do to Knowles, or what he'll do to me, Slany. I can take care of myself." He kissed her lips. "Besides, he couldn't get me fired if he tried. I bring in millions of more dollars in business than he does. And if it ever came down to that, I'd quit first."

"And leave me behind?" She said it only to tease him, but Nick looked at her with a totally serious expression on his face.

"I'd take you with me, of course."

"With you?"

"To start our own agency."

She'd never thought of going into business for herself. But it wasn't a terrible idea. And she wouldn't be by herself.

Damn, she hadn't even slept with the man, and she was ready to quit her dream job and go into business with him!

"Would you go in with me?"

"You're actually asking me and giving me a choice?"

He caressed her cheek with a thumb, bent his head to nibble her lower lip. "I told you before, I can't make you do anything you don't want to do."

Slany just silently looked at Nick, and he added, "Besides, what we do in the bedroom has nothing to do with your abilities outside of it. You're one of the most talented art directors I know. I wouldn't think of starting a business without you, or leaving you with the competition."

Slany nodded and smiled, but still said nothing.

"Is that a yes?"

"Have you done any research on going into business for yourself?" Even as she asked it, she knew it was a silly question. Nick wasn't the type to jump into anything blind. She, on the other hand, at least where he was concerned…

"Don't want to be left ass-out, huh?" he teased.

"Not any more than I already am."

Nick chuckled, eased his hands under her skirt, and squeezed her ass cheeks before smacking them. "You have to learn to trust me more. I would never leave you vulnerable and exposed without being there to protect you."

* * * *

87

Gracie C. McKeever

"Master's here, Jeannie!"

Slany started at Peyton's words, staring at her image in the mirror as if it were a stranger.

She turned to her friend still lounging on the bed, Coco at her feet. "You're not funny, Peyton."

She got up, approached Slany and put a hand on her shoulder. "Sure I am. And you shouldn't let your inhibitions stunt your sense of humor. Go with the flow."

Yeah, go with the flow. Like she was flowing into her panties already? Like she’d be swimming in her own juices before the night was through?

"Easy for you to say," she finally muttered.

Peyton chuckled as she pushed Slany's clutch and black shoulder wrap in her hands and shoved her towards the living room. "Don't worry about Coco. I'll feed him, walk him before I leave, and lock up. Now, go and have a good time."

Slany paused at the front door, straightening the wrap across her shoulders and wishing she hadn't been reckless enough to enter into a challenge with Nick—especially when win or lose, he was the one getting what he wanted.

And wouldn't she be, too?

Peyton put both hands on her shoulders, leaned in, and kissed her cheek. "Don't let him scare you, Slany, no matter what. Just remember, he's made to take care of you."