These Damn Suspicions (3 page)

I could have asked for water again, but then I’d have to wait with the horrible figgy taste in my mouth. I took each piece silently, one after the other, hoping he wasn’t going to pull out his phone and take a picture of my disgusted face at any point. At one point I almost gagged, but fought it back, though it would have been sort of rewarding to throw up the nastiness right into Callum’s lap.

After the last crunchy, cloying mouthful went down my throat, Callum got up. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

I made sure I didn’t have any fig stuck in my teeth to haunt me later, still inwardly cringing at the aftertaste of my last mouthful. As soon as Callum held out the glass to me I gulped down the entire contents, washing away the final bits of fig.

“Atta girl. Come here.”

I wasn’t sure I was in the mood to snuggle, but returned to Callum’s lap anyway.

“I promise to give you the benefit of the doubt next time the tabloids say you’re cheating, Sir.” My tongue was still so disgusted by the figs that my words were a little slurred.

“You’re forgiven, little miss. And you can speak freely now.”

“You know that real sexual figging doesn’t involve actual figs in people’s mouths, right?”

Callum stared at me for a moment as though the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Then we both dissolved into laughter.

“You want to try the alternative next time?” he asked finally.

The thought of having root ginger up my ass didn’t sound great to me, but I decided to keep that thought to myself. “As a punishment? How do you know I wouldn’t like it, Sir?”

He gave my ass a quick, light spank. “You might regret saying that one of these days.”

Damn. Looked like that had backfired. “Can I put everything involving food on my hard limits list now?”

“No. Because I know they’re not hard limits, Little Miss Badass.” He tugged on a lock of my hair. “Now are you done being a brat for the night? I’m hungry and I’m guessing you’d rather have the taste of pizza in your mouth than fig.”

“One more question, Sir.” I batted my eyelashes at him. “When do we get to the make-up sex?”

Callum nipped my earlobe lightly. “We’ll get to that.”

* * * *

The following evening…

I blinked through the car windshield at a suburban house that looked totally normal. “Where are we?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Callum popped open his door and got out of the car. “Come on.”

A little bewildered, I followed him up the drive and onto the front porch. For some reason, Callum had a key to this place. “Is this place yours?”

“Nope. Elena’s parents own it.”

I digested that for a moment. It might explain why Callum had brought Elena into his trailer that day I’d met her…

“I’m just using it for my purposes today.” Callum took my hand. “Come on.”

A little nervously, I followed him inside. The house looked like a rental property—nondescript décor and sparse furnishings, as far as I could tell from looking through open doorways. Callum didn’t stop, towing me towards the back of the house.

“Why am I getting a weird ‘surprise birthday party’ feeling about this?” I asked, censoring myself before I could call him ‘Sir’. If there were other people here, I didn’t want to give them any cause to ask awkward questions.

“Nope. I promise, there’s no one but us here.”

The door to the back room of the house, adjacent to the kitchen, was closed. I glanced from it to Callum and back. “Are we going in there?”

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

I took a breath, pushed open the door…and stepped into a totally normal room, though this one had more furnishings than the others.

As Callum shut the door behind us, I turned and waited for him to explain what we were doing here.

He leaned against the door instead of coming into the room, his eyes on me. “There’s a gift somewhere here in this room for you, little miss. When I start the countdown on my phone app, you’ll have three minutes to find it.”

I stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment. Then it slowly began to dawn on me. “You didn’t, Sir…”

He grinned, and I knew I was right. He’d remembered a conversation we’d had over a year ago, when I was still living in New York, and he’d decided to make my dream come true.

“My favourite project so far was a kids’ TV show based on one they made in England in the early nineties. The set guys built a cross-section of an entire house—four floors, from basement to attic. The challenge for the two teams of kids was to find one hidden object in each room, so they’d basically have to trash everything to find what they were looking for. Pull cushions off couches, bedding off beds, items out of drawers, off shelves…the whole thing. It was like decorating an entire house, only with a totally different theme for each room. And most of the drawers and cupboards were filled with these multi-coloured polystyrene packing chips.”

“And these kids just got to trash the rooms without putting everything back afterwards? Sounds like something I’d have loved when I was a kid.”

“Me too, and not just if I were a kid. First thing I’d do if I ever got to be megastar famous is buy a place, fill it with cheapo furniture and items, then completely wreck the interior. Then I’d hire a clean-up crew to get it all cleared up before I redecorated it the way I wanted it.”

I eyed the cabinets and couch cushions with a new appreciation. It all looked neat and tidy at the moment, but I was looking forward to trashing this room!

“Are you ready?”

I nodded, looking around me. If I were a gift from Callum, where would I be?

“Your three minutes starts…now!”

I yanked open the nearest cabinet door and squeaked happily as rainbow-coloured polystyrene packing chips fell onto the floor. “Oh my God, this is just like I pictured!”

I had to scoop more polystyrene out of the cabinet to check whether the gift was there. It wasn’t, but I’d made a huge mess of the floor, which was exactly the point of doing this. I turned to a drawer and pulled it open, tossing handfuls of coloured paper ribbons aside to check the interior.

By the time I pulled the throw cushions off the couch, I was well and truly in the mood to make a mess, children’s game-show style. The cushions ended up in a pile on the floor, followed by the bigger ones that formed the seats and back padding. No gift.
Damn.

I continued on, pulling books out of bookshelves to check behind them and realising in the process that they weren’t even real books—just props. Callum had pulled some strings in a props department recently…

No gift was hiding behind them, though.

“One minute left,” Callum warned, amusement in his voice.

“Really? Damn it!” I spun, looking for somewhere new to search. “What happens if I don’t find it in time?”

“Then you have to wait until I find another way to give it to you. Might be a while…” He watched me open the small ottoman that served as a footstool and rifle through the junk inside.

Whatever this gift was, it was important enough to Callum to put this much effort into the presentation of it. I wanted to find it
now.

“Thirty seconds,” he added.

“Fuck! Give me a clue, Sir?” I checked behind the curtains, then noticed a fake-looking potted palm in the corner.

Callum was silent, and I didn’t want to waste precious time looking at him. Taking hold of the fake plant’s trunk-like stem, I pulled it up out of the pot and found another layer of polystyrene chips under its false soil and roots. I dropped my handful of plant and dug into the packing materials, and my fingers brushed something flat and velvety.

“Ten…nine…” Callum began to count down.

“I have it; I have it!” I held up whatever the thing was triumphantly, looking to him to stop the timer. “This is it, right?”

He laughed and pocketed his phone. “Congratulations, little miss. Wanna see what you’ve won?”

A little out of breath, I examined the blue velvet box in my hands. It was much bigger than a ring box, so a proposal wasn’t imminent. I wasn’t even sure how I’d feel about that.

Callum came to stand by my side in the sea of packing chips. “Open it,” he urged.

Slowly, I flipped the catch and pulled up the hinged lid of the box. Shining metal caught the light, and for a moment all I could do was stare, my mind going blank.

“It’s a collar,” I breathed, looking up at Callum for confirmation. “Is it—?”

“What do you think, little miss?” He watched me intently. “Wanna be my officially collared submissive?”

I stared back down at the silver band. It was at once sturdy and elegant, functional and beautiful. The O ring at the front made it impossible to mistake it for anything but what it was—a collar of ownership.

There was a small padlock at the catch. Somehow I doubted it was just for decoration. Questions whirled in my mind, but first I needed to give Callum an answer.

“Of course I’ll wear your collar, Sir. Did you really think I’d say no?”

It wasn’t until he relaxed that it sank in how tense he’d been. I wrapped my arms around one of his legs and pressed my face against his thigh. “You thought I might?”

He wound his fingers into my hair and gave a light tug. “I try not to assume anything until I know you’re okay with it.”

I studied the collar again, not moving from Callum’s leg. “As long as you don’t make me wear the collar to work, I’m okay with it.”

“Let go of my leg, little miss.”

When I released him, Callum picked up the nearby cushions and reassembled the couch. Then, sitting down, he beckoned to me. I crawled over, knowing how much he liked that, and heat flooded his expression.

“Hand me the collar and get into position.”

This was an order he’d used before, when he’d used collars on me during scenes—and occasionally just because he liked seeing me wear one. I knelt with my back to him, gathering my hair out of the way so he had easy access to my neck. Then, changing my mind, I leaned back on my hands and looked up at him with my head tilted as far back as it would get.

“Question, Sir?”

He looked amused at my position. “I figured you’d have one or two. Stay like that while you ask.”

“Does the lock work?”

Callum fingered the padlock and nodded. “I’ll give you one of the keys, but it’s only to be used if you need the collar off and I’m not around. Otherwise, I’m in control of that lock, understand?”

“I promise, Sir.” I almost didn’t want the option of having a key, but I knew it wasn’t practical. In my line of work, unscheduled overtime wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it happened often enough that I’d need some control over my collar.

“We’ll see how you do with the collar at home, then if there are no problems we’ll see about something more subtle you can wear at work. A necklace, a ring…”

“A tattoo?” I suggested.

Both of Callum’s eyebrows went up. That was rare—he usually only bothered with one. “Seriously?”

My muscles were beginning to ache at the position I’d contorted myself into, but he’d ordered me to stay as I was, so I gave him the best ‘
are you kidding?’
look I could upside down.

He grinned and relented. “Sit up and turn to face me.”

Relieved, I did as he’d asked. “If the tattoo idea pleases you, Sir…”

“What if I want complete autonomy over what the tattoo looks like and where it goes?”

I just knew he was working an angle. “If it’s the words ‘Little Miss Badass’ in giant letters on my forehead, I’m calling my safeword.”

Callum gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Do that again, and I’m putting a clothespin on it,” he threatened, with a note of token Dom sternness so I’d know he was serious, but not pissed off. “And possibly some fig-flavoured jelly.”

I put my tongue back in my mouth immediately. That did
not
sound like fun.

“In all seriousness, Sir? I’ll consider your specifications as long as I don’t totally hate the design of the tattoo.” I might have been submissive, but there was no chance in hell I was getting an ugly tattoo, even for my Dom.

“That’s all I ask.” He regarded me for a second longer, as though he couldn’t believe I’d agreed to something so permanent, let alone suggested it.

Then he shook his head. “Stand up, strip naked, then kneel again.”

I opened my mouth to speak, glancing around me at the unfamiliar surroundings, but Callum cut me off.

“Yes, little miss, I’m sure we’re not gonna be interrupted. But even if I wasn’t, I’d still expect you to follow the order. Naked. Now.”

His Dom voice always got me tingly, and the look that went along with it was equally sexy. I didn’t waste time replying, just wriggled out of my clothes as quickly but provocatively as I could, not bothering to fold them, just tossing them aside into the sea of packing chips.

By the time I’d knelt again, Callum had unlocked the collar and opened a tiny, subtle hinge that allowed it to be placed around the wearer’s throat. “Into position, little miss.”