On His Terms (7 page)

More considerate than any lover she’d been with, he released her breasts and played with her clit to bring her off one more time. She came so hard that she forced out his semi-hard penis.

“Stay there,” he said.

As if she could move, even if he ordered her to.

Realising she was panting, she took a steadying breath.

He removed the condom and quickly cleaned up, then returned with a cool washcloth to soothe and cleanse her pussy. “Thank you, Sir.” She’d never had a man do this before. And she liked it.

He offered his hand to help her up. “You’ve made this a memorable birthday. Thank you.”

She was satiated. And more determined than ever to get this man to agree to train her. She just needed a plan.

Chapter Four

“Chelsea did what?” Alex asked, sitting back in his chair and looking out of the window towards the foothills. Damien’s call had surprised Alex, but his gut-twisting reaction to the news stunned him.

“She called Niles,” Damien repeated unnecessarily.

On the surface, that wasn’t a bad idea. At one time, Niles had been as well-known as he was respected in the community. Since the death of his wife, he’d become reclusive. He participated in some scenes filmed at the Den, but he saw no one beyond professional models and actresses. Just like Alex, Niles had an edge to him. But Niles was rougher, more remote. Some wondered if he was capable of emotional attachment. Alex shoved away the unwelcome idea that the same description could apply to him.

“Niles turned her down,” Damien continued. “But he gave her several recommendations.”

She wouldn’t be deterred. Alex should have realised that and not ended the evening the way he had, by wishing her well in her endeavours. She wanted to snag Evan C, and so would recklessly pursue any path that got her there. It didn’t matter that he’d refused to train her, she would find someone, anyone who would. And not everyone could be trusted. Foolish girl. “Thanks for the heads-up,” he said.

Before ending the call, he updated Damien on a couple of their investments, one that was doing as well as expected, one that was performing better than anticipated. They didn’t make up for the colossal failure of the Bartholomew deal, but it was a start. He was pursuing other opportunities, but before he said anything, he and Gavin would be triple-checking all the details.

Alex slid his cell phone onto the desktop and stared at the sunset. At least this was one good thing about their recent move to the less expensive address. Their Cherry Creek offices had lacked the view that the Denver West area provided.

He thought about Chelsea, just like he had done every night this week. He’d enjoyed playing with her, introducing her to things she’d never tried before, seeing what made her nervous, then pushing her past those apprehensions.

Since Liz, he’d spent his nights alone. Until Chelsea, he’d had no desire to change that.

The idea of her going through all the Doms in Denver pissed him off. She could be hurt. And damn it, he wanted to be the one to watch her green eyes open wide, to soothe her brow when she was frightened, to teach her proper decorum. If she was so desperate to be trained, he would be the one to do it.

He picked up his phone and scrolled through the contacts list until he found the number for Sara’s Dom. Within five minutes he had Chelsea on the line. “Round one to you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You win,” he conceded.

“Does this mean you’re agreeable to training me?”

He heard excitement in her tone. Not just triumph, but honest enthusiasm. She might have won, but if she was gloating, she was disguising it well. “I’ll give you two weeks. Are you available in the evenings and on the weekends?”

“There are a couple of events that I need to attend, but mostly I can rearrange my schedule, Sir.”

“I recommend we start tomorrow.”

“That works.”

“Dinner? Six o’clock.”

“That works,” she said.

He named a restaurant near his office. “Wear a short skirt, heels, no undergarments. And pack an overnight bag in case you decide to stay. Any questions?”

There was silence. “How much will this cost me?”

“I don’t charge.”

“In that case, I’ll make a charitable donation in the name of Monahan Capital.”

He exhaled. She might not be a masochist like Liz had been, but that didn’t mean he would have the patience he needed to deal with her annoying persistence. “Don’t be late.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He half expected her to call and try to change the arrangements, and he was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t. He arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, and she was already there. Impressive. She was sitting on a bench, her impossibly long legs crossed. Her back was hunched slightly, as if she were trying to hide the fact her breasts were bare beneath the loose-knit sweater. Her beauty was startling, and he was man enough to notice and appreciate it.

He’d prefer to see her present her body more proudly, and they’d be working on that. The next time they dined in public, her behaviour would be different.

With the artificial, calculating smile he recognised from the first time she approached him at the Den, she stood and offered her hand, as if he were a business associate. He ignored her hand and said, “I’d prefer you to kiss my cheek.”

She blinked. “Of course,” she said, leaning towards him.

“Of course, Sir,” he corrected.

“Of course, Sir,” she repeated, then kissed his cheek.

“Please,” he said, indicating she should precede him. When she did, he placed his fingers as the small of her back. “Stand up straighter.” He heard her draw a sharp breath, but she did so. “Reservations for Monahan,” he told the hostess.

After they were seated, with menus in hand, he asked Chelsea, “Any preference?”

She looked at the entrées. “Probably just a salad. With sirloin. Maybe some wine.”

“How do you like your steak cooked?”

Over the top of the menu, she scowled at him.

“I’ll be ordering your food,” he told her.

“I’m capable of doing that myself.”

“Of course you are, but this is about your willingness to allow me to handle the details.”

She put down the menu.

“A good Dom always takes his sub’s desires into account. A good sub in turn trusts he will make good decisions on her behalf. If you have any preferences, now is a good time to express them.”

“I don’t like this,” she admitted.

“Over the next two weeks, there will be plenty of things you don’t like. You have a choice to deal with it or end your training.”

She drummed her fingers on the table.

“This isn’t as easy as you’d anticipated, is it?”

The waiter stopped by, and Alex ordered them each a glass of red wine. She set her chin mutinously, but said nothing.

“You may find my dominance irritating. Or you could decide it’s nice to have someone take care of you for a change. It can be a struggle, or not. But understand this, bad behaviour will be corrected and perhaps punished. So, Chelsea, shall we proceed, or just have dinner as friends?”

“Do you expect me to address you as Sir, even in public?”

“When we are out as a Dom and sub, yes. If we were at a business event, that would be discussed and rules agreed to beforehand.”

She was silent for so long he wasn’t sure if she was going to answer. Finally she said, “I like my steak medium-rare, Sir.”

He nodded. “Now sit up straight. I like that you dressed according to my desires.”

“I am, Sir. It feels weird not wearing a bra.”

“I like to see your nipples. And visualising them with clamps on.”

She sipped from her water. “I’m not sure I’ve recovered from last weekend.”

“Poor thing.”

“I’m not hearing any sympathy, Sir.”

“No. You’re not.” The waiter returned with the wine, and Alex ordered their meals and remembered to say, “Please ensure there is no parsley anywhere near the lady’s plate.”

The man nodded.

She smiled.

When they were alone again, Alex asked her, “Rather painless, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d made it in my mind.”

“Did it take away from your empowerment?”

She sank against the back of her chair. “No.” She picked up her wine. “It didn’t change who I am, Sir, or the fact I’m capable of ordering my own food at any other time.”

He nodded. “First lesson. Being submissive doesn’t take away anything from you as a person or as a woman. You’ll enjoy the meal you wanted, cooked the way you like, and you delighted me in the process.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Not all Doms order for their subs, but many do. Take your lead from him, or her, and don’t argue in the process.”

“I understand,” she said.

As they drank wine, she told him about her desire to succeed.

“My father abandoned us when I was ten. Mom forced me to go to college so that I wouldn’t end up struggling like she had. She made sure I knew I couldn’t count on anyone except myself.” She toyed with her knife and fork. “She worked her ass off at two jobs so I could go to community college, then on to university.”

“And taught you never to take no for an answer.”

“True. It just means I need to find another way of asking the question,” she said. “And you? When are you going to let me organise a charity function for Monahan Capital?”

“Do you ever give up?”

“Certainly, Sir.” She smiled. “As soon as I get what I want.”

He relaxed in his chair, watching her. That smile wasn’t the hundred-watt fake one she usually gave him. This one was fun, impish, and it revealed a playful side of her that he hadn’t known existed. He liked that she was more complex than he’d realised.

The waiter delivered their meals, and when he checked back to be sure everything was okay, Alex glanced at Chelsea.

“It’s fabulous, Sir.”

“Well done,” he told her when the waiter left.

“You were right,” she said. “Not just tonight, but the other night. If I think about what my Dom wants, the struggle isn’t as difficult.”

“Lesson two,” he said. “At this rate, we’ll be done in three days.”

“Do you think so?” she asked, holding a fork poised near her mouth.

“No.” He grinned when her shoulders fell again. “You’re still slouching, despite the fact I’ve already corrected you twice.”

She put down the fork and sat up. “Sorry, Sir.”

“Not to worry, I have just the thing to help reinforce my will. I’ll show you when we get to my house.” He cut a piece of steak. “Eat up.”

She left part of her salad and refused dessert and coffee. He paid the bill, and she protested. “If I want you to pay, I’ll let you know. This changes nothing between us and takes nothing away from your feminine power. So give up the fight.”

“In that case, thank you, Sir.”

He nodded, wishing all arguments with her were this easy to end. “Did you bring an overnight bag?”

“I did. But I’d prefer not to stay, Sir.”

“That’s up to you. I have a guest room. And a chain at the end of my bed with a nice pile of blankets on the floor.”

Colour drained from her face, and she pushed away her wineglass.

“Some Doms expect their subs to sleep on the floor.”

As if choosing her words with great care, she asked, “Is that your expectation, Sir?”

“No.” He’d had the chain installed for Liz when he’d trained her, and he’d done it at her request. He was happy to snuggle after a session, and there were nights when he wanted his woman to sleep in his arms. Liz had never wanted to do that. Even if he hadn’t taken the time to chain her and arrange her bedding, he would wake up to find her on the floor, cocooned with her pillow and a single blanket, her collar affixed to the chain. “I had a sub once who preferred it that way. It helped her.”

“I don’t understand.”

He wasn’t certain why he was discussing this with her. “Liz was a masochist. Being in my bed would have been a luxury she didn’t want.”

She folded her hands on the tablecloth. “Is she the reason you’re no longer a trainer?”

“She has a lot to do with it, yes.”

“And you loved her?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I did.” Deeply. Painfully.

“Did she end it, or did you?”

“I suppose if I don’t answer you, you’ll continue to ask again and again.”

“And again, Sir.”

“Liz ended it.” Except for Damien, no one knew how devastated he’d been. He and Damien had stayed up almost an entire night at the Den, drinking a bottle of the world’s finest single malt. The next day, hating what he saw in the mirror, Alex had vowed never to look back.

“You haven’t gotten involved with anyone since?”

“No. And I’m not planning to. D/s relationships can be more complex than ordinary ones. Be careful what you wish for.”

She shuddered. “Warning heeded,” she said.

“Ready?” He stood and offered his hand. “This time, you may follow me. Stay back about two feet.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t protest. He knew his behaviour kept her off balance, and that was his intention.

He walked her to her car and waited while she programmed his downtown Golden address into her navigation system. He intended to drive so that she could follow, but he would expect her at his house again, and he never wanted to hear that she’d got lost.

It took less than fifteen minutes to arrive at his home. “I never expected you to live in a place like this,” she said. “How old is it?”

“It’s considered Victorian-style,” he said. “Built after 1940. It was a foreclosure and needed a tremendous amount of work. One of Damien’s friends did the restoration. It took about four months, but I think it was a good investment.”

“It’s charming,” she said.

He didn’t add that he’d bought it with the expectation he and Liz would live together. Then the Bartholomew deal went south and he hadn’t got around to selling.

“The grounds are beautiful,” she said while they stood together on the sidewalk.

“Landscaping company,” he explained. “I wouldn’t know a pansy from a petunia.”

“You have both.”

“Do I?”

“In those pots.” She pointed.