The Dom's Dungeon (12 page)

No one had
offered her a position yet. She
huffed
a laugh. She'd
actually had this vague hope that she'd walk into a clinic and they'd jump up
from behind a desk and give her a job. Maybe even a partnership. Apparently
they hadn't read that script. The vets who had interviewed her had been polite,
but they had others to interview and credentials to check.

Sad to
say, she didn't have a huge number of references to wave in front of them.
Aside from the vet who'd bought Jim's clinic, the only names on her list came
from college. But they were glowing recommendations at least. Since her
instructors hadn't known her past, they'd judged her only on competence.
And I'm damned competent.

A scramble
of feet came from inside the house, and Butler charged out
, a
good eighty-or-so pounds
of enthusiasm. Turning in circles so he could
lick and get petted both, he knocked her back a step. Bracing herself, she
giggled. How could she stay unhappy with this bundle of joy around?

“He missed
you,” Alex said, stepping out the door.

God, just look at him
.
Dark
tailored slacks, silky white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to display strong
arms and lean hands. The top few buttons were undone, and her gaze caught on
the hollow at the base of his throat surrounded by corded muscles.

Each night
this week they'd had supper together, talked, watched TV. He'd kissed her and
touched her, but never intimately. She'd changed the bandages on his back and
tried to ignore how…pleasant…his bare skin felt under her fingers. She couldn't
help but remember how his fingers had stroked her…entered her.

And now
her fingers tingled with the need to touch him.
To be
touched.
And wasn't that a bizarre feeling? When she met his gaze, she
could see the amusement in his eyes, so she bent over to pet Butler some more
and get her body under control.

He found
this so simple. Women undoubtedly threw themselves at his feet—literally, she
thought, thinking of Cynthia.
But for her…
The first
time she'd really looked at a man in years and he had to be some all-powerful
Dom. Rich, handsome, exuding confidence. If she'd actually planned to try a
man-woman relationship, she'd have chosen someone nice.
Kind.
Easy.
Not someone who—

Firm hands
closed around her wrists, anchoring them behind her back as Alex pulled her up
against him. He kissed her, teasing, lazy kisses, his mouth gentle, his body
hard, and his grip ruthless. The mixture made her head spin. Her insides seemed
to melt into a pool, and her balance disappeared as he coaxed her into more:
into deeper, into wetter, into hotter. When he pulled back, her nipples ached,
and her pussy felt as swollen as her lips.

He brushed
his lips over hers,
then
nipped her chin, and the tiny
pain awakened more urgency inside her. “I missed you too, pet,” he murmured.

With a
whine, Butler stepped on her feet, trying to get closer.

Alex let
her go and leaned against the patio table. “Do you have any interviews this
weekend?”

“No.” Unnerved
by the heaviness in her limbs, she knelt to scratch Butler's sides, sending him
into a frenzy of delight.

“The
newscasters predict sunny skies tomorrow, although there's no guarantee with
Washington weather. I thought we'd host a few people at the Vashon Island
house.”

“Vashon
Island?”

“In
the center of Puget Sound, just a ferry ride away.”
He
smiled. “Don't worry, little Midwesterner, you'll like it. You haven't even
visited the beach yet, have you?”

The thrill
of seeing an island diminished as the rest of his plans registered.
Host.
Few people
.
“What kind of people?” she asked
suspiciously.

“
Those
kind of people.
A few
whips, a chain or two. A house party tends to be more casual than the club,
although we'll undoubtedly indulge in some evil play with our subs.” He
chuckled at her flinch. “Yes, that will include you, pet. We won't leave until
noon, so you can sleep in.”

She
swallowed and nodded, wrapping her arms around Butler, although who comforted
whom, she wasn't sure.

“Relax,
little cat. That's tomorrow.
Not here yet.”
Bending
down, Alex tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at her, his eyes
crinkling. “Tonight, you deserve a reward for surviving all those interviews. I
ordered us a pizza with everything on it.”

“Really?”
When
they'd shopped for her clothes, they'd wandered past a pizza place, fragrant
with tomato sauce and melted cheese. She'd mentioned that she'd always rewarded
herself for good grades with a fully loaded pizza.

Just an
off-the-cuff comment…but he'd remembered.

It
promised to be an interesting—and miserable—evening. Alex pushed open a window
overlooking the Sound and let the breeze dry his body. The waves frothed over
the sand, reminding him of the afternoon and the enchanted expression on his
little sub's face. He'd enjoyed the way she'd immersed herself in the feel of
the sand on her bare feet, the gentle movement of the water,
the
smell of the sea brine. Even the sandpipers running down the beach, the hermit
crabs scuttling around under stolen shells, and the seagulls circling had
received her absorbed attention.

He hadn't
heard her truly laugh before, but when Butler raced after the gulls, sending
them squawking into the air, her laughter escaped, clear and melodic. Free of
restraint. Later, when he'd coaxed her back to the house, her face had been
colored pink from sunburn and wind, and every tense line had disappeared.

Damn, but
he wanted to hear her laugh like that again and see her eyes free of shadows.

He sighed
and toweled off his hair. Instead the evening would be stressful, especially
for her, but he couldn't refuse Drake's request. As the injured party,
MacKensie
needed to witness this, even if she'd rather not.
He tossed the towel over a chair and pulled on black jeans.

The little
vet was a compassionate woman.
And an honest woman.
Alex still hadn't figured out why she'd broken into the dungeon, but he'd found
no lack of character in her nature. She'd held to their bargain despite her
qualms.

In all
reality, her transgression hadn't been that great, and her trip to his club
should have served as full repayment and punishment. If she'd been anyone else,
he'd have released her at that point.

But his
little sub would have disappeared from his life. He knew that. And when he'd
taken her under his command, he'd become obligated to more than fairness. If he
could accomplish nothing with her problems, then he'd step away. But she'd
given him her trust and more. He snorted at the masculine satisfaction welling
inside him.
Her first orgasm in twelve years—or maybe even
longer?
She had said twelve years for sex, not for a climax.

In the
master bath, the jets shut off.

As Alex
buttoned his shirt, Mac walked out, flushed pink and swathed in one of the
oversize terry-cloth robes he kept at the beach house. Her scent—vanilla,
citrus, and woman—drifted to him, and he hooked an arm around her waist,
ignoring her squeak.

“You smell
edible, little sub,” he murmured. Wishing he could toss her on the bed and bury
his face between her legs, he settled for shoving her robe off her shoulder and
nuzzling the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
Moist skin,
soft.
He bit down on the muscle there, and he felt a quiver run through
her. When he slid his hand inside the robe, her nipples were already bunching.

With a
sigh of regret, he smiled into her outraged yet already aroused gaze. “Your
outfit is on the bed. Wear it all—and nothing else, pet. I'll see you
downstairs.”

After
savoring one last caress of the tiny peaked nipples, he released her. He'd kept
his touch casual all week; her break was over. By the time he finished tonight,
he intended to see those peaks swollen to twice the size, dark red, and rigid.

* * * * *

Dressed as
ordered, Mac walked into the living room and stopped to survey the situation.
Alex was building a fire in the fireplace across the room. Just behind him on
the couch, Zachary, a gray-haired rancher, sat with his red-haired sub in his
lap.

Over by
the wall of windows, Peter, a lean blond lawyer, and his sub, Hope, watched the
last remnants of pink disappear from Mount Rainier. Mac vaguely remembered
meeting the two at the club. Short and round, with freckles and an infectious
giggle, Hope seemed far too cute for her serious Dom.

Mac was
the only sub dressed in a costume. Four years of college, vet school, interning—all
those years and here she was, attired in a fancy and very revealing maid's
outfit.
Go figure.

Halfway
across the room to the others, she stopped.
Why
am I doing this anyway?
Frowning, she walked up to Alex. “Could I speak
with you for a moment?” She added a reluctant “Sir” when his eyebrows rose.

“Excuse
us,” he said to the others before walking with her out onto the deck.

Mac leaned
over the railing and looked down. The beach below had an eerie gleam from the
moon rising in the east, and the water glimmered as small waves rolled onto the
sand.

“Did you
have a question for me, little vet?” Alex set a warm hand on her shoulder and
turned her to face him.

“Yes.
Obviously Cynthia isn't a problem for you any longer, so why am I still
pretending to be your submissive?”

Silence.

The pause
worried her. Darkness shadowed Alex's face, and she couldn't read his
expression. “You have two parts to your question,
MacKensie
,”
he said finally. “First, we are not yet finished with Cynthia. I can promise
you that.” His voice had a grim quality that made her shiver.

His voice
deepened. “Second.” He tangled his hand in her loose hair and pulled her head
back, putting her fully in the light streaming from the glass door. “Are you
really pretending, little one? When I do this”—he took a step forward, pressing
his body against hers, immobilizing her against the railing, and holding her
hair so she was forced to stare up at him—“are you insulted and annoyed? Or
does something in you shiver?”

With his
body against hers, he couldn't help but feel the tremor that ran through her.
Still holding her hair captive, he took her lips roughly, demanding and
possessive.

The heat
sweeping through her body turned to fire when his hand captured her breast. Too
many sensations hit her at once: his mouth possessing hers, his powerful body
trapping her, his hand on her breast, the thumb scraping over her tightening
nipple. By the time he pulled back, she'd been thoroughly kissed.
And thoroughly aroused.

He studied
her face before stepping back and letting her free. “Our bargain stands. You
may go back in.” He motioned politely to the door.

Her legs
unsteady, she reentered the room. Damn. Her face heated as she realized how she
must look: tousled and turned on. God knew, she felt turned on, and wasn't that
a strange sensation?

A rap on
the front door interrupted her thoughts. Were they expecting more people? “I'll
get this one, pet,” Alex said, patting her bottom on the way past.

When he
opened the door, Mac backed up a step, her breath catching in her throat.
Steel, the Dom who'd attacked her, stood there with a big black bag slung over
his shoulder and wearing battered leathers that left his chest completely bare.

He saw her
standing frozen in the center of the room. “Relax, girl. I'm not here for you.”
He glanced at Alex.
“Definitely a pretty sub.”

“I think
so.” Alex raised his voice to the other guests. “This is Steel, who will handle
the evening's punishment.”

As he and
Steel moved into the living room, Mac retreated, trying to find an unobtrusive
spot to hide.

“Sit here
with me.” Curled in one corner of the couch by the windows, Hope patted the
cushion beside her.

Mac
glanced around. Over by the fireplace, Peter and Zachary shook hands with
Steel, while Tess sat nearby listening.

“Thanks.”
Mac dropped down on the couch beside Hope. “I-I don't know why that man is
here. Alex didn't even know him until…” How could she ever explain what had
happened in the club?

“Until
he attacked you.
Peter told me. He said all the
Doms
are furious about it, and that's why that guy is
here.”

“I don't
understand.”

Another
knock on the door.
Alex strode across the room to answer it.

Mac shook
her head, a little dismayed. “Alex called this a really little party, just you
guys and—” Her mouth dropped open when Cynthia walked in, hands cuffed in front
of her. A man in a black silk suit followed. Probably a few years older than
Alex, his black hair was shorter, and gray flecked his neatly trimmed mustache.