Anything for Him: Dominated (#1)

 
 

By Carmen Cross

Copyright © 2012

Anything For Him, Carmen Cross

All Rights Reserved

This book
contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and
Treaties.  Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is
prohibited.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express
written permission from the author.

All characters appearing in
this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is
purely coincidental.

Crossroads
Publishing  © 2012  All rights reserved

The office hummed with conversation, but
none of it was personal. In every cubicle people were bent over their desks,
working hard at their jobs. Nobody even considered attempting to slack off, or
to simply look busy without being actually busy. The boss was in the place and
everyone knew it.

Danny Sullivan walked through the office
with his face set into a pleasant mask but his employees were not fooled, he
was a man who demanded perfection and hard work and nothing less would satisfy
him. Danny was a hard man whose full lips rarely broke into a smile although
his warm baritone voice could charm the birds from the trees. His long legs and
lean hips gave him a prowling grace and his broad shoulders and slightly
too
close
set blue eyes, looking out from under brows of an utterly lightless
black, made him look both cold and hard. Dangerous, as some of the women liked
to describe him, saying the word with a delighted little shudder.

Meghan Lowry saw him coming, gave a tiny
squeak and tried to jump into a cubicle. The woman sitting inside it gave her a
cold glare and an upraised finger before using her foot to shove her back out
and into the narrow hallway.

Danny saw Meghan as she stumbled back
into the hall and while his expression never changed his interest was instantly
piqued. His eyes raked quickly up and down Meghan’s lean body taking in the
slightly too large skirt that brushed her shin bones, the ill-fitting suit
jacket whose somber dark blue hue did nothing for her alabaster skin, the pale
green blouse below it that he guessed she had bought because she had thought it
would match the intense green of her eyes and the fiery red hair whose curls
were doing their best to escape the severe knot that held them unwilling
hostage.

Anxiety rolled through Meghan’s belly as
she faced her employer. She raised a hand in a half-wave, thought better of it
and then tried to get out of his way, unaware that the small bruise that lay on
the underside of her wrist had caught his attention.

“I’m a temp,” Meghan finally got out.
“One of your assistants is on maternity leave and the agency sent me. I was
told that you have several companies but that here was where I was to show up.”

Oh you idiot, Meghan scolded herself as
icy blue eyes studied her face intently, you should have said just introduced
yourself instead of blurting out such nonsense!

Her wrist was suddenly caught in a firm
grip; a small gasp of pain escaped her lips as the delicate flesh was squeezed,
causing the pain of the bruise to burst into fresh life. Confusion overrode the
pain as she saw a tiny small flicker at the corners of his sensual mouth.

“I am glad you showed up,” Danny
murmured. “I could certainly use some assistance.”

Meghan tried to think of something to
say. Her wrist was released but the warm pressure of his fingers lingered and
embarrassing warmth spread upwards from her cheeks to her forehead. “I can do
anything you need,” she began.

“Anything as defined by the Merriam
Webster dictionary?”

The sudden interruption flummoxed her.
Her eyes darted to the plain beige walls that outlined the cubicles, the
equally bland neutral toned carpet and then to the tips of her own shoes as she
tried to decide how to answer his quip. Should she joke with him? Stay silent?
She thought about the zero balance in her bank account and decided to simply
try a different tack.

“What may I do to be of assistance, Sir?”

The smile grew wider and several
unbelieving employees stared openly as it did. “I am sure I can think of
something. Jenkins,” This to the man who stood beside him, “Take her to my
office please.”

Meghan opened her mouth to say something,
what she was not sure, but before she had the chance to put any of her confused
thoughts into a sentence, Jenkins gave her a long level look, crooked his index
finger at her and whirled on his heel. She found herself having to practically
run to keep up with his strides and she began to worry that the borrowed and
slightly too large shoes would fall off of her feet before they arrived at
their destination.

“In there,” Jenkins said, swinging open a
door.

The room that she stepped into was large
enough that her entire apartment would have fit inside it with room left over.
A glowing rug that was so gloriously colored and gently faded that she knew
instantly it had to be incredibly expensive, covered the polished hardwood
floor.

Heavy leather furniture sat in small
groups, a teakwood bar stood under a long bank of gleaming windows that
overlooked the vast skyline and a tall cabinet with two heavy doors sat between
a deep recliner upholstered in black leather and a rather odd and decidedly
out- of-place wooden chair whose heavy arms looked like they had been through
some type of battle. Hash marks covered them; deep gouges and shiny worn places
also marked the wood. For some reason the chair made Meghan feel nervous.

A large desk sat in the dead center of
the room, a chair behind it. The gilt-edged green blotter was empty; the Mark
Cross ink pen was neatly capped and laid in a straight line beside the blotter.

The paintings, tastefully lit by track
lighting, gave the room warmth but it still made Meghan feel too small and
somehow very vulnerable. She wasn’t sure of what she should do so she stood in
front of the desk, nervously clasping her hands in front of her waist and
trying hard to stand perfectly stall and straight.

The door opened and she arranged her face
into what she hoped was a pleasant expression. Danny Sullivan entered, his
expensive cologne adding its own subtle aroma to the scent of leather that hung
over the room.

“I have your file here,” he said as he
sat himself behind the desk. “Do you want me to tell you what is in it?’

The red heat filled her face again and
she wanted to run away or begin to weep. The folder, lying on his blotter,
looked so innocuous. The pale manila folded exactly and tabbed with red over
neatly typed black letters that spelled out her name was far from harmless
however.

“I assure you,” she said in a quavering
voice, “I am not going to steal anything.”

“I imagine if you had wanted to steal
something you would have grabbed one of the paintings and run for the door.”
There was amusement in his voice, but it made her feel no better. “Tell me why
you did it.”

Meghan took a deep breath, “I don’t have
a reason.”

That was true, but also a lie. Danny kept
his eyes locked on hers and she tried to hold his arctic gaze but she couldn’t,
she dropped her eyes to the toes of her shoes.

“Did it feel good?”

Meghan blinked. No one had ever asked her
that. “Excuse me?”

“You broke into homes – estates,
and robbed them. It must take a lot of sheer nerve to be a cat burglar, what I
want to know is, did that feel good? Did you feel a rush, did your pussy get
wet when you went through the windows?”

The word pussy caused her jaw to snap
open. She whispered, “Yes,” before she could stop herself. Her hand came up to
her mouth almost immediately in a vain attempt to trap the word, to take it
back.

Danny watched her struggle with herself.
He could see her discomfort and her shock, he knew that she was trying
desperately to figure out a way to take back what she had said and still save
face. He found himself amused by her, and intrigued but he was not quite sure
that she was exactly what he was hoping she was. His eyes went to the sleeve of
the jacket; it lay too long and wide across her wrist, hiding the bruise from
his sight.

“You didn’t do it for the money, your
family has enough of that.”

Meghan wanted to simply storm out. Once upon
a time she would have but that had been before she had been caught robbing the
house that belonged to the Beauchamps, one of the wealthiest families in town
and the people who just happened to be best friends with her parents. Her
parents had kept her from going to prison but they had disowned her and now she
was broke and on her own, she could not afford to walk out on the only job she
had been able to get.

“No, I didn’t do it for the money.”

“So it did make you hot. Say it.”

Meghan stared at the painting over his
head. Danny counted to ten silently, wondering if she were going to break. He
wanted her to, he wanted to hear those words tumbling from her tongue, wanted
them to be said so she could hear them out loud but he doubted that she would
say them.

He slowly perused her body, imagining her
tied to the bed, her long legs opened wide and her mouth ready to receive him.
He knew she was broke, that she was about to get evicted and that she had no
other options but to work for him. That excited him, what excited him even more
was the fact that she was a Lowry, he had an axe to grind with her father Tom
and fucking her would give him an immense satisfaction on several levels.

Long seconds ticked out, counted silently
by their heartbeats. Danny had begun to wonder if she would speak at all when
she said, in a rush, “I came here to be your assistant. That is what the agency
hired me to do.”

“I will pay you triple what the agency is
if you will tell me why you did it.”

Danny watched her struggle with the offer.
He had no doubt she would do it, life had long since taught him that every
person had a price, some were just willing to sell themselves a little cheaper
and others were able to hold out for more. Growing up he had seen all too often
people selling their own flesh, and the flesh of others.

Meghan knew why she had burglarized
homes. Growing up she had been the quintessential poor little rich girl. Her
brother had inherited her mother’s blond good looks and her father’s business
acumen as well as his love of sports. Gregory Lowry had sailed through school
with good grades, girls hanging all over him, his father’s approval and his
mother’s love. Meghan had been a pale and often sickly little girl who had
burned a fiery shade of red every summer when they had gone to their summer
beach house, had been totally lost on the tennis courts and average in class.
Her parents had overlooked her and the girls her age had only wanted to be her
friend in order to get close to Gregory, once they figured out he wanted nothing
to do with his three years younger sister they ignored her in favor of other
girls with brothers that they could use their budding wiles upon.