Dominated: A Kinky Adult Fairy Tale (Bedding the Bad Girl Book 4) (6 page)

“My other gun is more impressive,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll get a look at it if you’re good.”

“Cocky bastard,” Eleanor muttered.

“I heard that,” he said, not turning to look at her before he disappeared into the dressing room.

Cocky bastard with excellent hearing
, Eleanor thought, ignoring the little thrill that the thought of his “gun” inspired.

She quickly wound her hair up into a knot on the top of her head and crossed to the vanity to reapply her blood red lipstick. After adding a fresh coat of mascara to her lashes, she was mostly presentable. She was ready—or as ready as she would ever be to face a crazed maniac who had threatened to kill her.

Eleanor hurried to fetch her crop from where she had thrown it during her session with Frank. She gripped the instrument in her hands tightly, reminding herself that she wasn’t defenseless. She had drawn blood with this crop once tonight, albeit unintentionally, and she could do it again.

She had also managed to do some damage with her shoes, and there was no way this loser could be as big as Frank. If he was that manly, he wouldn’t have to resort to writing threatening letters to a woman half his size.

“Right,” she whispered aloud.

With a deep breath, she took up her customary position in the center of the room.

“Mistress, may I enter?” came a raspy, hushed voice from the west dressing room seconds later.

Shit
, it was him.

It was time to step into character. Ready or not, her homicidal maniac had arrived.

CHAPTER NINE

Frank

“Enter, slave.” Eleanor’s voice sounded from the room, her tone twice as haughty as it had been when he had first entered her parlor.

Frank was impressed, but still worried. He didn’t want her out there alone. What had sounded like an acceptable course of action when he hadn’t known Eleanor—hadn’t tasted her, touched her, watched the walls behind her eyes come crashing down as she abandoned herself to pleasure—did not seem acceptable now.

Sure, he could see her on the surveillance monitor and would be able to reach her in seconds, but it didn’t feel like enough. He felt unprepared. Of course, when he had been prepping himself and the team for this moment, he’d had no idea that he would be emotionally invested in the outcome.

He had come here wanting to do a good job for his queen, to protect her estranged stepmother. Now, he was sitting in this dressing room, sweating his balls off, determined to save the life of a woman he wanted for his own.

He would bet his left arm that tonight had been her first time in the submissive role, but she had taken to it like a fish finding water. The trust she’d given him so freely had overwhelmed him. He didn’t want another man to be on the receiving end of that kind of trust. It would be too easy to abuse her, to take advantage of her while she was new to the scene. And she would be new to the scene. There was no way she would be able to resist another experience after what they’d done tonight.

She would start to crave the freedom of submission, and he was already craving the sweet responsibility of instructing her in the art.

You’re craving more than the privilege of instructing her. You want her, man, all of her.

As if on cue, his cock started to swell and thicken, recovering from the softening brought on by Nate’s untimely appearance on the scene. Thank God the kid had shown up, or Frank might not have been able to stop himself from finishing what they’d started. He’d only meant to kill a little time and relax Eleanor in the process. He’d never intended for things to go so far or imagined that he would be tempted to take things further.

By the time she’d begged him to fuck her, he’d nearly forgotten the reasons he shouldn’t. What did a dozen men waiting for his command and a suspected stalker on the way matter when his cock felt like it would explode if he didn’t get inside Eleanor?

The taste of her still lingered in his mouth, sweet and addictive. She tasted clean yet decadent, a compelling mix of innocence and abandon.

It made him wonder…who was the real Eleanor? Was she the woman she’d given him a glimpse of—a widow betrayed by a confused teenager? Or was she a better actress than he had assumed, the kind of woman who knew how to read her clients and give them what they wanted, even if it wasn’t something usually on the menu?

Frank felt a knot form in his chest as suspicion took root. Could she have taken him for a ride? He’d never hired a woman for pleasure; what did he really know about the way the transactions worked?

Watching Eleanor prowl the center of the room with complete confidence in the presence of a man she assumed was a psychopath made him wonder—was he the teacher or the student in their relationship?

“Hello.” The odd voice sounded from the opposite side of the room. Frank forced his mind back to the work at hand. There would be time to dissect his relationship with Eleanor after he made sure she was safe.

Relationship.
He’d just thought of what they had as a
relationship
.

Damn, he really was in trouble.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Eleanor’s client spoke again, soft and scratchy. He was clearly trying to manipulate his voice, which made Frank nervous. He’d never heard the man speak, but maybe Eleanor had.

Why else would he be attempting to disguise his voice? Maybe Eleanor’s stalker was someone she knew. That would explain why the man was still in his disguise.

In over a month of tailing him, no one had seen the man out of that wide-brimmed hat he kept pulled low over his features. Frank’s people had been tracking him long enough to know that Eleanor wasn’t the only woman he had been stalking. The sicko was a busy man, terrorizing half the sex workers in the city. So far he hadn’t acted on any of his twisted threats, but he was still managing to inflict serious damage.

Rumors of the “red light stalker” were scaring away business on the seedier side of town, seriously affecting the bottom line of the S&M parlors, as well as the more straight-laced bordellos.

While Frank never frequented the places, these citizens deserved protection from creeps threatening their livelihood—not to mention their lives—as much as any other person in the kingdom. The new king and queen might be on a mission to close down the sex trade, but until they succeeded in making it illegal to traffic in human flesh, it was Frank’s job to provide the workers of the red light district with equal protection under the law.

“You will refer to me as Mistress, you will not look me in the eye, and you will be punished if you speak before spoken to again. Is that clear?” Eleanor asked the man in front of her, still sounding strong and confident.

But then again, why shouldn’t she? The guy was even shorter in real life than he looked in photographs, well under five and a half feet, even with the strange little fedora he had left on his head.

Once he had taken off his bulky overcoat, he was downright scrawny, so scrawny that he seemed reluctant to remove his oversized gray t-shirt. It trailed down over the loincloth that hung limply around his thin, hairless, almost feminine-looking legs.

Scratch that,
very
feminine-looking legs.

“Shit,” Frank cursed, beginning to smell a rat. His gut was screaming that something was wrong, a feeling that was confirmed when Nate came scurrying into his hiding place.

“Captain, there’s another one!” Nate’s face was pale and sweat beaded on his mostly hairless upper lip. “There’s another stalker in a hat down in the lobby right now. We managed to stall him—had a janitor say the elevator was broken—but he’ll be here soon. It’s only ten flights up the stairs.”

“All right, cover me.” Frank darted a quick look at the surveillance monitor to see that stalker number one was still a safe distance from Eleanor before he armed his weapon and made for the door.

“Should we stop the second one, sir?” Nate asked.

“Not unless we have to,” Frank returned. “Use your judgment, Officer. If I don’t have the situation under control in time, take him into custody.”

“Will do, sir,” Nate said.

“I knew it!” Eleanor suddenly shouted.

“Freeze, Queen’s Guard,” Frank bellowed as he burst into the room, nearly dropping his gun when he found his mark.

It was Queen Cynthia, live and in the flesh.

CHAPTER TEN

Frank

What the holy hell was going on?

“Captain Frank?” Cindy squeaked. Her blonde hair spilled out in a mad tangle from the cap she had whipped off her head and her big blue eyes began to tear. Her bottom lip quivered and her hand trembled, a fact that wouldn’t have worried him if that hand hadn’t been holding a silver revolver trained on Eleanor’s chest.

“Put the gun down, Cynthia,” Frank said, dropping the “Queen” before her name. The less power she thought she had, the better. He had no idea why she would try to murder her stepmother on the same night she sent him on a mission to save her, but he wouldn’t be an accessory to whatever she had planned.

He would take her down like he would take down any other criminal, especially one foolish enough to threaten someone he considered under his protection. Whether it made sense or not, Eleanor was now on his short list of people that were under his wing— no matter what the law or the queen had to say about it.

“I thought you were going to be here tomorrow,” Cynthia sobbed, tears flowing down her face.

“Put the gun down. Now,” Frank ordered as he positioned himself between the two women.

“You still haven’t learned to use a day planner?” Eleanor clucked her tongue. “You really should get organized if you plan to start killing people. Time management makes murder so much more manageable.”

“Shut up!” Cindy shouted at Eleanor, her face twisting with rage. “Just shut up. You aren’t always right.”

“Cynthia, if you don’t put that gun down right now, I will shoot,” Frank said, hoping his tone would convince her that he was serious.

“But you’re supposed to be on my side.” Cindy sniffed, her eyes filling again.

“Yeah, Frank, can’t you just help your queen kill me like you’re supposed to?” Eleanor mocked, not showing nearly as much concern for her own welfare as he would like. Badgering an unstable teen who was holding a gun aimed at her heart wasn’t the wisest course of action.

“Eleanor, be quiet,” he ordered.

“I wasn’t going to kill her, Frank. I could never kill anyone. You have to believe me.” Cynthia dropped the gun as she dissolved into another fit of tortured sobs. Covering her face with her hands, she sank to the floor where she proceeded to curl into a ball on her side, looking pathetic in her oversized t-shirt and man-sized diaper.

But pathetic-looking or not, he wasn’t going to breathe easier until that gun was out of her reach.

Quickly, Frank crossed to her and kicked the gun to the far side of the room, unmoved by the wide, tear-filled eyes she blinked up at him from the floor. She was a beautiful girl, angelically so, but he had finally gotten a look at the brat that lurked beneath the pretty surface. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen through her sooner. He’d always prided himself on being a good judge of character.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Cynthia pleaded. “You have to believe me.”

“She just thought I’d look better with a few bullet holes for decoration,” Eleanor quipped behind him.

“Eleanor, please,” Frank said.

“I’m sorry. This is how I handle being scared,” Eleanor said, her voice rising before she broke off with a shaky breath.

Shit. Pretty soon he was going to have two crying females on his hands and the real red light stalker popping in to the waiting room. He had to establish order before they lost the chance to catch their second suspect. They could all sit down and try to figure out what the hell was going on with the queen after that was accomplished.

“Get up, Cynthia. Now,” he ordered. “Eleanor, do your best to get it together, okay? The real guy is on his way up.”

She blinked. “The real guy? What real guy?”

“We’ve got another suspect on the way. Cynthia might not be our girl, or she might not be working alone.” He reached down, hauling a freshly sobbing Cindy to her feet.

Eleanor’s hand pressed against her stomach. “You mean there’s someone else who wants to kill me?”

“He doesn’t want to kill you,” Cindy said, her voice laced with a healthy dose of bitterness. “He’s in
lust
with you.”

“What?” Eleanor asked, her big brown eyes growing even wider.

“He who?” Frank asked, pulling the queen across the room toward the east dressing room. They were running short on time, and he had to make her disappear before the man she was talking about made it to the tenth floor.

“The k-k-k…” Cindy stuttered, the resurgence of her tears making it impossible to understand what she was trying to say.

“Tell me his name,” Frank demanded, giving the girl a sharp shake. “Help me and maybe you won’t go to jail for the rest of your life.”

“I’m the queen,” she sobbed hysterically. “I’m still the queen.”

“You’re not going to live to be queen of anything unless you start talking,” Frank whispered, letting the full force of his anger show in his eyes.