Afterlife (22 page)

reminder as she

began to push herself away from his

knee. A flutter of

embarrassment and uncertainty went

through her, the

muscles under his touch going tense

as wire. “I’m on the

phone with Brad in Costa Rica,”

Peter said without

preamble. “They have an error code

on the CNC. Brad’s

thinking it may have been damaged

by a power surge. His

guys have traced the ladder logic to a

certain point, but now

they’re thinking we need to send over

a factory expert to

look at it. I was thinking I’d let him

tel you what’s up first, just

in case you have a different take on

it.”

“Okay, put him on speaker.”

If there had been any discernible

pause, anything she

could cal a surprised hesitation or

shock at finding her

here, she didn’t detect it in Peter’s

voice. He also didn’t

greet her, didn’t address her, didn’t

acknowledge her

separately. He was treating her as a

slave doing her

Master’s bidding.

She might not have been in any

BDSM clubs until her il -

advised visit to Club More, but when

she was at the peak of

her crazed fever to integrate this in

her life, she’d delved

into hundreds of Internet scenarios

that stoked her own

desires. However, it wasn’t even that

which told her Peter’s

behavior was appropriate, expected.

She just
knew
.

The realization sent a hard jolt

through her, a combined

physical and emotional reaction she

couldn’t control. Peter

touched her shoulder, an intimate

slide of his fingers over

the line to her col arbone. Through

that casual touch, he

would recognize there was no bra

beneath, even if the

stretch of the nearly transparent silk

over her erect nipples

didn’t. He pul ed her hair, a mild

tease, before he moved

toward Jon’s desk and punched the

button on the phone on

the desk. “Brad, I’ve got Jon here.

Go.”

Last night had been a shock to her

system, the details of

which she’d begun to deny and avoid

almost before she let

herself revisit them. So in al her

years of picturing the first

true Master-sub experience of her

life, she never would

have imagined this. Or how

overwhelming and stimulating it

was, such that the shaking was getting

worse. She had to

lock her jaw so her teeth wouldn’t

chatter. She kept her

eyes down, fastened on Jon’s

polished shoe. She

wondered who did that for him.

Probably a dry cleaner. The

laces were precisely double-knotted.

The thin dark sock

etched out the bones of his ankle. She

couldn’t help herself.

She made a track along the curve of

that bal joint with her

fingertip, a whisper of a touch, then

fol owed the slope of

the shoe’s mouth.

He was asking questions of the

invisible Brad. The

questions were involved, technical

issues regarding

machine programming and gears,

engine parts. Listening

to him talk like that, al while having

her at his knee like this,

was quite possibly the most erotic

thing she’d ever

experienced. He hadn’t stopped that

absent stroke of her

hair, but as she slipped a finger

inside his shoe, trying to

trace his insole, he gave a lock of

hair a quick tug, a

reproof. She stopped, but kept her

hand on his foot. He

didn’t tug again, so she was glad the

contact was okay. Her

cheek was against his thigh after al ,

lips near the outside of

his knee.

From the position of his legs, Peter

was apparently

leaning against Jon’s desk, his ankles

crossed. Unlike Jon

and Lucas, he wore jeans, Nikes. He

probably had his

arms crossed over his broad chest,

biceps contracted in a

way sure to catch a woman’s eye.

Until this moment, she realized she

hadn’t even thought

about her blouse being open several

buttons. In this

position, Peter definitely could see

the bare curves. Instead

of being appal ed, she was excited.

She was safe with Jon.

A Master who would take care of

her, like he said.

“Cal us if that doesn’t work,” Peter

said at last. “We can

always send someone down, and I’l

be back there next

week.”

“Hey, bring Dana with you again. She

scalped me last

time and I want to win my money

back.”

“You’re an embarrassment, Brad.

You should know better

than to play Blind Man’s Bluff with a

blind
woman
. I’l tel her

you’re ready to lose more of your

money though.”

Peter cut the connection after a few

more comments

back and forth. “Thanks, Jon. I knew

you were on a tight

timeline on that drawing, but this was

holding up

production.”

“No problem. I’m pretty much ready

to send this down to

scanning. Just need to put the revision

number on it.

Rachel’s good for the concentration.”

“I’l bet she is.” Peter pushed off the

desk and moved to

stand beside Jon, studying the

drawing in progress. As he

did, he gave her shoulder that teasing

caress again, and

then he caught the col ar of her shirt,

eased it off her

shoulder. Rachel held her breath,

every nerve ending

conscious of Jon’s fingers as he

adjusted his sensual, slow

massage so Peter could trace her

bare col arbone. When

he dropped to the upper curve of her

breast, it made her

jerk, sent a jolt through her nipple

like electric shock, even

though Peter didn’t touch it.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

It wasn’t trepidation making her

quake like that, not by a

long shot. She was burning up with

desire, two men’s

hands touching her at one Master’s

behest.

…let my friends gang rape you in an

alley…

No. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t. She

thrust it from her

mind, her hand tightening on Jon’s

foot. Whatever this was,

she wanted it clean and pure, a

treasure she could lock

away from al that, because she was

smart enough to know

it was going to end soon enough. The

fact Peter was so

comfortable with her here had to

mean that there’d been

others. Jon was a young, single man,

and they’d obviously

shared subs before. It was as she’d

realized earlier.

Whatever this might mean to her, and

what it was for Jon,

could never be the same thing.

“Hey.” She didn’t even realize her

aroused trembling had

become something else, or that Peter

had left, until Jon

bent and put both arms around her,

pul ing her deeper into

the vee of his legs. Her back was

against the stool between

them. She was twitching with an

emotional reaction that felt

too close to a panic attack for

comfort. “Easy. Breathe.

You’re amazing, Rachel.”

“You like your women edgy and

neurotic?” She gave a

harsh chuckle, but she was holding

onto his arm that

stretched over her breasts. “God,

Jon, that was…I didn’t

even…it didn’t bother me. I

wanted…more.”

“I know.”

“This is the way it starts.” She

needed to get up, needed

to put space away from him. “I can’t

get lost in this.”

He kept her captured inside his arms

easily. “Rachel, if

you’d been here alone, and Peter had

done that, what

would you have done? No, stop

squirming. Close your

eyes, imagine it. I’m not here. He is.

You’re sitting on the

sofa, and he leans down, unbuttons

your blouse, pul s it off

your shoulder to admire your breasts.

How does that feel?”

She set her jaw. “Wrong. He’s

engaged.” At his silence,

she knew there was more to it, but

she couldn’t say that,

any more than she could cal Jon…

what everything in her

wanted to cal him. She settled for a

whisper of the truth.

“You aren’t there.”

He cupped her jaw, tilted her head up

and back to his

mouth and claimed her lips. Hot,

strong, forceful, so she

continued to quiver in his grip,

submitting to the demand.

When he lifted his head, she was

nearly limp. “You’re damn

right I’m not.” She saw that flash of

steel, his lips set in a

serious line. “You’re teaching

tonight, right? But tomorrow

your schedule is clear?”

She should wonder how he knew

that, but al she could

think about was the picture they

made, her on her knees,

pul ed back against him, her body

arched up to him this

way, breasts straining against the

partial y open shirt, every

part of her hungering for him. His

long legs caging her on

either side. Those blue eyes fil ing

every corner of her

vision. She nodded.

“Al right then. Tomorrow night, I’m

going to come to your

place at seven o’clock. It better be

spotless, the way you

normal y keep it. I’m particular to

eggplant parmesan and a

good red wine, and from what I saw

of your kitchen, you like

to cook. You’l put out one place

setting. Mine. Any food you

eat or wine you drink that night wil

come from my hands,

my mouth.”

It would never happen. Between now

and then, the

enchantment of this moment would

disappear and her fears

would return. The spel only existed

in his presence. She’d

be cal ing him frantical y, hoping to

get his voice mail, tel ing

him she’d had something unexpected

come up. She’d run

away to check into a hotel for the

night. She’d—

“I’l be on time, so five minutes

before I get there, you

unlock the door. Then you kneel by

my chair. Submissive

position. Hands behind your back,

back straight, knees

parted to shoulder width. You leave

your hair down. You

don’t do that too often, do you?

Because you think you’re

too old to wear it down like a girl,

but you can’t bear to cut

it.” Before she could respond, he

continued. “Turn up your

heat to keep warm, because other

than this beautiful hair,

you’l wear only that pair of cherry-

red heels. What’s your

favorite flower?”

She couldn’t keep up with him, let

alone voice her

reservations. “Wildflowers,” she

whispered. “No particular

kind.”

“What grows wild on the roadsides,

hmm?” His lips

brushed the sensitive skin behind her

ear. “Perfect.” Sliding

his hand down the curve of her spine

to her ass, he

weighed one buttock in his hand. As

he smoothed his

fingers over the fabric of her slacks,

then tightened his grip,

a needy sound came from her lips.

“I know you’re worrying that by

tomorrow night you’l have

shut down or be running from this

again. And you wil be.

But I’m going to give you a leash,

something to keep you

tethered to my wil , even when I’m

not with you to enforce it.

Come with me.”

He rose then, bringing her to her feet.

They were

standing so close together that the

curve of her bottom slid

over his erection. She froze, the urge

to rub against him so

overwhelming she didn’t think she

could stop herself.

Holding her hips to keep her stil , he

bent his knees enough

to slide his hard length along that

indentation between her

legs and up the crease between her

buttocks. She gasped,

needing his strength to keep from

swaying forward.

“Yeah, you’re hot for it.” His voice

was husky, rough with

his own lust, and she would have

sold her soul in that

moment to be fucked by him.

Straightforward, raw, no

embel ishment. “Hot and ready, and

that’s how I want to

keep you.”

He guided her over to his desk.

“Lean over and put your

palms on the wood.” His hand was

pressing into her back

even as he gave her the order, and

she had no wil to resist.

Her fingers curled, uncertain, as he

slid her belt free, then

unhooked her slacks, opening up the

zipper so the fabric

fel loose and lower on her hips.

“Stay right in this position.” He was