Derision (17 page)

I fist her blouse, tugging the back up so I can touch her warm skin. “Even if I think it’s best?”

She releases a small sigh. “I’m really not that breakable.”

For a year, I’ve craved just that; to break her. Hear her desperate pleas. Feel her unravel beneath my touch. Gain control over the woman who threatened every bit of mine. And last night, I witnessed her break. Only it didn’t have the effect I once desired.

She broke me right back.

She fused herself under my skin. I can’t breathe without craving her scent. Every taste is bland if I’m not consuming her. All my senses demand only her. I may’ve broken her restraints, freed her of the ties to her pain—but she’s equally made me her captive.

I rest my forehead to hers. “Temptress, breakable doesn’t make us weak.”

As I pull back, her eyes study me, seeming entranced over my use of us. “I understand that, but it has been three years.” She blinks up at me. “I’ve given you my trust. Now you have to trust me. I want to work this case with you. I
can
work this case with you.”

She’s so delectably defiant. More so than I ever realized. My fingers trace the smooth skin of her waist as my gaze roams the room. “You picked a very inappropriate environment to make your stand,” I say, finding her eyes.

Her gaze tracks the wall behind me, where one of the St. Andrew’s crosses are stationed. “Or very appropriate,” she says with a hint of a smile. “I’m not opposed to mixing work with pleasure.”

A low growl works its way free as I force her close, our clothes an annoying, constricting barrier. I lower my mouth to her ear. “There’s a price for teasing me, temptress.”

She quivers a little in my arms, and I love the way my words elicit rising gooseflesh along her skin. “I make good on my debts,” she says.

This is not the same woman who entered my conference room nearly a year ago. Oh, she’s still every bit the docile Alexis I’ve fallen for, the woman who captured my being, but she’s now the complete version of herself—aware of her inner strength, even if she hasn’t fully embraced it yet.

I want to be the man to help her embrace it.

“This place doesn’t intimidate you?” I unbutton the top of her blouse, skillfully working my way down. “No apprehension?”

As I push her blouse open, revealing the lacy black lingerie she’s wearing beneath, I curse. Her smile steals over me. She knows she devastates me, can make me do anything with just one request.

“Julia took you shopping, I see.” My gaze hungrily devours her. “You bought this on my account?”

“I did.” A sultry smile curls her lips. “Do you approve?”

“Ardently.”

“And no,” she says, lifting her chin. “I’m not scared. You’re here with me, so there’s no reason to fear.” She tentatively reaches for my tie and I nod, giving her permission. Knowing how much sway she holds over me and yet still seeking my approval is her power. The gift of another’s strength is the ultimate arousal.

Before Alexis, I thought I understood myself. The need, the desire, the absolute compulsion to dominate—there was no question of who I was. But just as Alexis was a shell of her true self, so was I. I haven’t changed. The longing to control is still present; only now it’s magnified, becoming clearer.

I don’t wish to dominate her—I crave her relinquished control to me. There’s a difference between the two that I thought I understood before, but now realize, with Alexis, I’ve only just begun to explore.

As she eases my tie free, I grasp the back of her neck and pull her mouth to mine, sensually tasting her, breathing her inside until it aches. When I release her, I take her hand in mine and lead her toward the red section. “Without a little fear, where’s the excitement?”

Her gaze widens as she takes in the St. Andrew’s cross. “I’m not sure I even know what this is used for.” Her hand reaches out toward the lacquered wood, her curious nature trumping any reservation.

“Undress,” I instruct, my breathing already speeding. “But leave the halter corset. For now.”

“A man who knows his lingerie,” she says, unzipping the side of her skirt. “That’s sexy.”

“When did you become so mouthy?”

“About the time your cock was hitting the back of my throat.”

Jesus Christ. I jerk my dress shirt off, ridding myself of the confining thing as I stalk toward her. “I think you’re trying to provoke me.” Sealing my hands around her wrists, I bring them up against the top of the X.

Her chest rises with her quick breaths, her breasts grazing my chest. The friction of the lacy material clashes with her smooth skin, sending arousing tremors all the way to my cock.

“Keep your arms raised.” I release one of her wrists. She keeps her gaze trained on me while I secure her other wrist in the cuff. There’s enough slack in the chain between the wood and cuff that her arm isn’t strained; just restrained enough to stir her arousal.

I take my time as I finish cuffing her wrist, and then her ankles, making sure I touch and linger at every inch of her body on my way down. I have no intention of bringing her to her breaking point tonight. This—this is all for her pleasure.

As my hand roams up her leg, eliciting a shiver, she gasps in a deep breath when I bite the seam of her panties and then shred them away from her body.

My hand is there in an instant to feel her become wet. She drenches my fingers as I hiss out a curse, my control already long gone. I suck her into my mouth, hard and needy, my teeth nipping her clit as I tongue her hot pussy.

I reach up and grip the lacy top of her corset, tug it down until her breasts spring free, then I’m kneading one, plucking her nipple to make her tighten against my mouth.

“Fuck me,” she breathes out. “Now, Chase. I have to have you inside me.”

The fierce need to concede to her spoken demand barrels through me. I plunge a finger inside her tight center, giving her the penetration she needs, as I lower my zipper. “Say it again,” I order.

“Fuck me…right now. Take me—”

I’ve barely gotten her ankles free of the cuffs before I’m hauling her leg over my shoulder, my pants just lowered enough for my dick to seek her entrance, my control ripped away. “Do you love what I do to you? Love how I make you feel?”

Her eyes penetrate mine, the sultry swell of her breasts as she heaves making it painful to withhold—but I do; I ease the tip of my cock between her soaked lips, stretching out the anticipation. Hers and mine.

“I’m in love with everything you do – everything about you,” she says. “I’m in love with you, Master.”

My hands latch around her hips and I haul her against me, driving in deep as I press my lips to hers. Her cry is swallowed by my hungry kiss, my need to devour her overbearing.

I break away just far enough. “Tell the man you love him.” I capture her gaze, make her look into my eyes.

She doesn’t waver. “Chase, I love you.”

“Fucking hell,” I say under my breath as I sink inside her, deep, claiming, taking her mouth once again. I’m lost there, inside her kiss, inside her—unwilling to let her go. “My love for you is all I am.”

The truest part of me admits defeat. I’m hers. It’s the greatest loss I’ve ever experienced. And as she shatters around me, pulling me farther within her soul, her body, it’s sweet mercy that releases me within her.

T
here can only be
one pivotal moment that alters your world. Only one—that’s what I’ve believed ever since my life shifted so tragically once before. And yet I’ve been proven wrong, inclined to trust that with Chase, I’m never going to stop experiencing them.

How many times can I be awoken, remade? Transformed by his touch?

I catch myself staring off into space, Julia nudging me to bring me back down. “Alexis, do you want me to handle the paralegal research?”

Giving my head a stern shake, I say, “Uh, no…” I glance down at my files, trying to sort through the same documents I’ve been organizing for the past hour. “I can delegate the work…I just need to weed through it first.”

Julia’s smile captures my attention. “It’s the best feeling, isn’t it?” she says.

I glance her way, unable to hide my own telling smile. “What?”

She rolls her heavily kohl-rimmed eyes. “Oh, please. Save it for the paralegals and interns. You’re not fooling me. You’re in love.”

I’m taken aback, shocked at having Julia—the scary lioness I’ve tiptoed around for a year—talk so openly with me. It’s not a matter of trust; I realize in this circumstance, she’s the only person I have to confide in; it’s the issue of being able to confide at all. For me.

Even when my mother was alive, it was difficult for me to talk candidly, wary of opening myself up to let others in. The way I view things…the way I see the world…it’s just too tiring. I feel awkward just thinking of trying to explain it.

“It’s okay, Alexis,” she says, laying her hand over mine. “I’m not going to judge you.”

My forehead creases. “I’m not ashamed,” I say, suddenly defensive, and she laughs.

“You’re so flustered. It’s obvious. Just do me a favor.” She turns my way so that she’s facing me. “We’re colleagues, and technically, I’m your superior – but within the regulations of this firm, we’re equals. Although your being Mister Larkin’s sub places you above me on that measure.”

I shake my head. “I don’t see it that way, Julia.”

Her smile is sincere. “I know. But you are, Alexis. And the deeper you go into this world, the more you’re going to become a part of your Master. Just remember to reserve a place for yourself. For your own feelings and thoughts.” She eyes me closely. “Sometimes, you’ll need a little of that freedom of separation.”

I tilt my head, really looking at Julia. I guess I assumed she belonged to one of the other partners, but I never actually asked. “Sounds like you know from experience.”

A sly smile tilts her red lips. “I do, but not in the way you think. I’m a Domme, Alexis.”

“Oh,” I say, even more confused. “Then how do you take orders from Chase?”

The tinkling laugh she releases fills my office. “With great precaution. Mister Larkin knew that another submissive wasn’t the best choice to oversee the partners’ subs. Only another Dominant would work. So here I am. And that’s why I know you need to carve out a place for yourself. I always tell all my subs to do so, for their mental health.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Just how many do you have?”

She flips her binder closed. “More than enough.” With a tick of her chin, she motions toward the door. “You should probably go address your team now. Come on. I have faith in you.”

What world is this where Julia the Domme is becoming someone—possibly the only someone—I consider a friend? I smile to myself as I collect the files, feeling more at place within the walls of Lark and Gannet than I ever thought possible.

That feeling dissipates a little as I enter the cubicle area, the room where I spent so many months trying to blend into the scenery. Working on a case solo has always been my strength. I’m focused and dedicated, and I get more work done without the distractions from others.

However, if we’re to truly test what we are capable of, we have to embrace what scares us. For most, standing in front of an office full of paralegals and interns is a minor inconvenience. For me, it’s the thing nightmares are spawned from.

The glass walls actually pulse in my vision. The gray carpet bevels beneath my feet, threatening to trip me with every step. Julia clears her throat, her wide eyes directed toward me, presenting me to the full office.

Shit.

I breathe slowly, aware of the perspiration breaking over my face. “Mister Larkin and the partners have requested that our team research the victim statements,” I begin, not clearly hearing each word; as I’m too focused on the echo of my voice.

I pause just long enough to recall the stress Chase was under the night before, how he paced the penthouse. I’m not just here for him as his sub—a belonging or a fuck toy; though I’m quite happy to always be the one to bring him satisfaction—I’m also his partner, in a sense. In that way, I want to help him. “We’re under a time constraint,” I add, my voice bolder, louder. “We have two days to discover if there’s any crossover among victim statements. Anything that can tie the client to each offense, or point to another suspect.”

Chelsea, who now occupies my old desk, speaks up. “I thought the case is being focused on the DNA discovery.” She smirks at me. “Did you not get the memo?”

That fucking smirk of hers, it sets my teeth. And I’m surprised to find that I’m not wilting under her open challenge. Rather, before today, I’d probably smile nervously and agree, questioning my strategy.

That’s not happening. “The partners have that handled. You’re not privileged to every aspect of this case, Chelsea.” I walk steadily toward her and drop a stack of copied testimonies on her desk. “If you feel your assignment is too much for you, let me know. I can transfer you to another case.”

Eyebrows hiked to her badly dyed hairline, she manages to say, “Yes…I mean, no, ma’am – I’m fine working this one.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation.” I turn and head back toward the front of the office, where Julia and I pass out the rest of the copies, giving instructions on what needs to be focused on and highlighted, all relevant and pertinent information brought to our attention.

When I reach the section near Chelsea, I hunker near her ear to whisper, just for her: “By the way, I’m neither a lesbian nor do I have an STD, but otherwise, that’s none of your business. I do happen to have a fucking hot as hell boyfriend who’s going to fuck me senseless real soon.” I pat her shoulder before I move on. “Just thought I’d clear that up.”

* * *

W
e’re hurtling
toward the end of the day, and I haven’t even worked my way through the final victim’s statement from the first case. I glance at the time on my phone: 4:50

Instead of isolating myself in my office, I decided to work alongside the paralegals at the main table in the office area. It saves time, in case they need anything addressed right away, but it also feels right.

I don’t want my first official week as their supervisor to be spent locked away in my office, drawing some proverbial line between them and me. It works well for Julia—she has the intimidation down—but I’m not Julia. I have to find my own rhythm in managing my team.

Two of the women opposite me glance at their phones, then up at me. “All right,” I say, accepting defeat. “We’ll pick up here in the morning. We still have another day.” I start stacking the files. “Oh, and thank you all for the diligent work today.”

Smiles and nods, and some goodbyes, and as the team heads toward their desks to leave for the day, a sense of accomplishment washes over me. Not for the case, but for the way I handled my first real test. The case is a different matter.

“Miss Wilde?”

I look up to see Sophie. “You can still call me Alexis.” I smile.

Nodding, she sits at the seat next to mine. “Alexis, I wanted to ask you something before I left. Is that okay? Or should I wait till tomorrow?”

“Oh, no – that’s fine. I mean, yeah, what do you have?”

She pushes a coil of her dark hair behind her ear and slides a document toward me. “All the victims stated they were taken to the same bar by Doctor Bates—” she points to the highlighted bar in question “—right before he dropped them off at their homes.”

I raise my eyebrows, prompting her on. “Yes, that’s right. The bartender confirmed their statements.”

“But later, when the attacks occurred, they’re certain it was Doctor Bates. Why?”

I shake my head, the long day wearing on my mental capability. I pull my notes from my binder. “The attacks happened within fifteen minutes of the time the victims arrived home,” I say. “Okay, here. They all corroborate that they recognized his cologne and the sound of his voice.”

She widens her eyes. “But couldn’t that be circumstantial? Or even a coincidence? How about someone at the bar, who knows Doctor Bates, like the bartender—”

“I see where you’re going, and it’s not a bad theory,” I say, turning to face her. “But Chase – I mean, Mister Larkin already interviewed the bartender. He was seen at the bar at the time of all the attacks.”

She sighs. “There goes that angle.”

I smile at her. “You’re not reaching, Sophie. Giving the jury another suspect is a strong case. Only in this particular case, we don’t have the bar as a common denominator to connect this victim. She was never taken to that bar, or even on a date—” I stop short, looking down at my notes.

“What is it?” she asks.

“The common denominator,” I repeat, finding what I’m seeking. “It’s not the bar that links this victim to the others, it’s what they stated—the manner in which they were attacked. Their attacker forced them to perform sexual scenarios which had only been discussed on the dark fetish website. So not the cologne, or his voice, or the other similarities.” I look up, lost in my thoughts. “The site.”

Sophie digs a paper out of her folder. “Was the metadata ever conclusive either way?”

She’s thinking the same thing as me. “I don’t know, but that doesn’t matter, not if it can be suggested Bates’ account to that site was hacked.” I glance at her. “Worth a try to see what the partners think.”

Her smile twists. “Gotta love the digital age. Anyone, anywhere can become a suspect. It’s actually scary.”

I nod, agreeing more than she realizes. It’s an angle for doubt, sure—but it’s also a very real possibility. It’s not completely implausible that he’s innocent, and that there is another suspect out there. Someone who’s been watching him closely, linked to the same dark fetish website.

“Thanks, Sophie,” I say, standing and gathering my binders. “That was an excellent brainstorm.”

I head toward my office, my attention on my phone as I type out a text to Chase. He’ll probably have a reason to combat our theory based on different ways the prosecution could counter, but I just feel strongly about it—like it has to be investigated.

My shoulder knocks into someone, and I hear a, “Sorry, ma’am,” which draws my full attention. I look up into the eyes of the blonde from The Firm—the one in the alcove that night.

She bows her head, apologizing again as she walks away. I stare after her, about to tell her she doesn’t have to call me ma’am…when Wells appears before me. I take a step back.

Silently, he places his finger beneath his chin and raises it, a sign for me to lift my head. And then he leaves.

The vibration of my phone awakens me from my thoughts and I shake my head.

Chase:
Meeting with the partners. Have Jefferson take you to my place

I smile at that, then start toward my office, passing the other partners as they advance to Chase's office with my head held a little higher. I’ve been dreading seeing the partners since that night, but it was a useless fear. I belong to Chase. They can’t touch me.