For the Sub (8 page)

“Anything I might have seen?”

“You tell me.” When John remained silent, but glanced away, Niles continued, “Does your wife know what you watch online?”

“Look, man…”

“Brandy is safe with me,” he said.

Just then, she joined them. “How’s it going?” She stopped and looked between the two of them.

Apparently sensing the tension, she levelled a look at John and asked, “Is Margot making you do her dirty work?”

Niles put down his drink and draped his arm across Brandy’s shoulders, drawing her in close. She laid her head against his chest. It seemed natural, as if they’d done it a hundred times.

She felt warm and smelt of promise.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” John pleaded.

“Not to worry,” she said. “Master Niles only beats people who ask him nicely.”

“Brandy,” Niles warned, but he couldn’t keep the mirth out of his tone. This tiny spitfire was ruffled on his behalf.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I won’t have you interrogated when you’re a guest in my home.”

He looked at her with a wry smile. She charmed him completely. “I’m the dragon, remember? I can take care of myself, Princess.”

“I met him at a BDSM club,” she told John, as if Niles hadn’t spoken. “I’ve known him for a number of years,” she added. “And this is not the first time he’s defended my honour.”

“You do realise that he—”

“For Christ’s sake, John, yes. Please give me some credit.”

Niles tightened his hold on her.

But that didn’t slow her down. She said to John, “I’m curious how you know who he is.” Then she gentled her voice. “Your job here is done, John,” she continued. “I love you and Margot both, and I appreciate that you care. I’m going to tell Margot to come spend time with Master Niles and form her own opinion.”

John raised his hands, defeated.

“I think the hamburgers are burning,” she told them before squirming from Niles’ grip and heading back inside.

“No hard feelings,” John said.

“She’s lucky to have friends like you,” Niles responded.

John grabbed a plate and Niles transferred the meat onto it.

The man carried it inside while Niles put on the next batch.

Glad for a little solitude, he stood in front of the grill, drinking the last of his beer, watching the first tendrils of the orange sunset. He understood the appeal of this place for her. The views were spectacular.

The cabin he was staying at contained no personal effects. It had been decorated to appeal to hunters and fishermen, but with enough nicer touches that women didn’t feel out of place. In contrast, she’d created a home. Dog toys were strewn about. And she had a greenhouse, with huge plants inside. He’d be hard-pressed to identify any of them, but he surmised it took a certain amount of attention to grow them that big. It was another outward sign of her nurturing personality.

Events like this, especially answering questions from nosy friends, wasn’t his typical choice for an evening. Surprisingly, he was enjoying it.

Because he was still cooking, Brandy brought him a fresh beer along with a plate filled with potato salad, carrots, fruit and one of the charred burgers. He was grateful no one had criticised his barbecuing skills—at least not to his face.

The dogs spent a significant amount of time sitting near him—hoping to scavenge bits of meat, he was sure. He glanced around, looking for Brandy before splitting an overdone patty in half and feeding it to the animals.

“That’s one way to stop MW from biting your feet,” John observed, bringing out another beer for Niles. “I was sent to light the chimenea. Penance for pissing off both women.”

“Tough times,” Niles agreed.

“I’m curious. What’s it like being around so many beautiful women all the time?”

He didn’t have to think about his answer. “Unrewarding. Meaningless.”

“Seriously, man?”

“Be grateful for what you have.”

“Sounds as if you’re part philosopher.”

Niles took a drink of beer. “Just wish I had appreciated things more when I had the chance.”

John grabbed the flamethrower and set about lighting the small chimenea fire while Niles, his duties over, turned off the grill.

The warmth and glow drew a small crowd, and he was soon engaged in conversations with people who had a much different approach to life than he did. He chatted with a ski instructor who worked only a few months a year, a fly fishing guide and a stay-at-home father. Margot and John ran a small breakfast restaurant in Grand Lake, so they were amongst the first to leave, but Margot narrowed her gaze at Niles in a silent reminder that she wasn’t certain about his intentions.

Now, as Brandy said goodbye to the last of her guests, he made sure the fire was out before going inside and tackling the arduous task of loading the dishwasher. Even when it was full, the counters and table top were still messy. The contrast between her kitchen and his pristine one startled him. It made him see how empty and solitary his life had become since he’d lost Eleanor.

Back then, he and his wife had enjoyed a whirlwind social life. She’d been a prominent attorney, he’d been an investment broker, and they’d been aware of the need to network their way to success.

When they had entertained, Eleanor had hired caterers. He’d never had to deal with an aftermath like this.

“Did I scare you off?” she asked, coming back inside. She flipped the switch to turn off the outdoor lights.

“Despite the gnawing terror, I’m still here,” he said.

“That’s right. After all, you are a big, bad, brave Dom. You didn’t need to pitch in. But thank you. I’ll handle the rest of the clean-up in the morning.” She propped her hips against a cupboard and looked at him.

Even though there’d been plenty of noise and mayhem with the pets and the party, he was amazed by how relaxed he felt.

“I hope you enjoyed it, at least a little. You did great on the burgers.”

“They were burnt.”

“Which is better than raw,” she pointed out.

“Are you always an optimist?”

“Guilty.”

“And yeah. I did enjoy myself.” He took the last sip from his beer. “Even though you didn’t need me.”

“Of course I needed you, Sir.”

“I think John could have handled it. He owns a restaurant.”

She had the good grace to flush a bit. “I like to give him the night off if he comes here. The guy who does most of the cooking really is out of town.”

“Fair enough.” He believed her. She would think about her friends and how they deserved the chance to rest. It endeared her to him even more. “Where’s the soap?”

“Why?”

“So we can wash the rest of these dishes.”

“Really, Sir. Thank you, but you’ve helped enough.”

Her tone was abrupt, and a scowl was wedged between her eyebrows. Keeping his tone light, he asked, “Do you refuse everyone’s help?”

“Not at all.”

“Then it’s me.”

“It’s not…” She sucked in a breath. “Well, yes, it is you. You’re a Dom.”

“Doms can’t wash dishes? They need to put up their feet and have a cocktail while you do all the housework and come to bed exhausted? For good measure you could be scolded for not moving faster and rubbing my feet?”

“Sounds ridiculous when you say it like that.”

“It is ridiculous,” he agreed. “I want to get you naked.”

“Stop.” Her scowl deepened.

“I’ve made you uncomfortable. Tell me why.”

When she remained silent, he added, “I’ve somehow blundered into an emotional limit, and I’d like to understand it.” He wasn’t sure what in the hell had happened in the last few minutes, but God damn if he’d let it go.

“I think it means something if you help me with chores.”

“It only has the meaning you give it. Can you accept help from a friend?”

She sighed. “People in a relationship help each other with dishes.”

“Ah. So if I help you, I have to move in? Or maybe I drag you to Denver and force you to make my dinner?”

She laughed, scattering the tension. “You’re being outrageous.”

“Am I?” He looped his arms around her waist and drew her close. “I hear nervousness in your voice, but it’s okay for us to relax around each other. And to be honest, I’d prefer to deal with this tonight instead of facing it in the morning before I’ve had my coffee.”

“So that means you’re spending the night?”

Her words had a hesitation, a brief skip that seemed at odds with the confident persona he’d seen from her so far. He was seeing the real Brandy, rather than the personality she presented in public. He folded his arms across his chest. “I apologise. I shouldn’t be presumptuous. I’d like to, but I’ll leave the choice to you,” he said. His body responded to hers the way it did every time they stood close. He’d be a gentleman if she wanted him to be, but his cock was voting in favour of her asking him to stay.

Chapter Four

Deep inside, nerves and anticipation collided, merged, then arrowed up Brandy’s spine.

All day, she’d been thinking about this moment. When he’d accepted her invitation to the party, she’d hoped he would stay. It had been difficult to keep moving forward with preparations when all she’d wanted to do was indulge in adult-themed fantasises.

Still, now that the moment was here, she realised this was a monumental step. Not for him, she was sure, but for her. Master Niles was a self-assured Dom whose resources allowed him to have a different woman every day of the week if he wanted.

On this small plot of mountain land, she’d created a sanctuary. She’d invited no one to share it with her.

She’d thought she could have him over, have a scene and be casual the next morning, but she was finding out it wasn’t so easy for her.

Master Niles was more complex than she’d believed him to be from their few meetings at the Den. If she were honest, she would admit that part of her had been surprised when he’d shown up prepared to grill.

His barbecue skills were only a few steps above dismal. He seemed to give people two choices in how they liked their burgers cooked—burnt or charred. Still, he’d shocked her by seeming at ease. He’d had a couple of beers, rather than expensive cocktails, and when she’d checked on him through the windows, he’d been engaged in conversation. By the end of the evening, he’d shaken John’s hand. Brandy liked that Master Niles didn’t scare easily.

But wanting to work together after her guests had left…that took the relationship to a new, uncomfortable level.

He’d made light of her observation that he wasn’t behaving like a Dom. If he’d stay within the lines of her preconceived boundaries, things would be easier for her. She wore submission like a comfortable blanket. It kept her warm and safe. But taking it off revealed the real, vulnerable person beneath. She’d vowed to keep that person hidden and protected.

Master Niles continued to say nothing, and he eased away from her, giving her space. He took the last drink from his beer then slid the empty bottle onto the countertop.

His words still hung between them, ripe with expectation.

Why the hell had he gone and complicated things?

He didn’t rush her decision, and she appreciated that he would respect anything she decided. She knew she was flirting with danger. Despite that, she wanted to be back in his arms. If he left, the loneliness would be worse than the potential emotional risk. “I’d like you to stay.”

He captured her hand and raised it to his lips with old-world elegance. “My pleasure,” he said.

With his touch, awareness skittered across her nerve endings. Oh
yes.
She’d made the right decision. Her imagination provided half a dozen scenarios for what they might do later, and each image was more evocative than the previous one.

“Now, about your refusal of my help with the dishes…” He released her and grabbed a hand towel. With focused intent, he made small circles with his wrist, wrapping the towel round and round.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, dancing a few steps away from him. She never knew what to expect from him, from playful and teasing to thoughtful and kind and back again. “That’s for high school boys in a locker room.”

“It’s also for subs who argue with their Doms.”

“No, no!” Her gaze was riveted on his hand. She wanted him to smack her with the whirling towel. Alternately, she knew it would hurt. Most of all, she wanted this light moment to continue and chase away her fears. “Come on, Master Niles, I was trying to be a good sub. I wanted you to relax like you deserve. I was being nice to you.”

“Uh-huh.” He took a deliberate step towards her.

“That’ll burn like a bitch.”

“Take it like a woman.”

“I don’t want to!” She squealed in mock terror.

The dogs danced around and barked as he drew back his hand. He continued to swirl the fabric.

“Present your ass, sub.”

“I promise to make you work like a hired hand next time you’re here. I’ll even let you put away all the leftovers by yourself. You can scrub the floors if you want. With a toothbrush. I’ll sit and watch television while you do it. Promise.”

“This will hurt more if I make you remove your skirt.”

“Oh fine. Hit me with your best shot.” With a saucy grin, she turned her backside to him and flicked her ponytail. She intended to skitter out of his reach by the time he let the towel fly. But his speed stunned her. He flicked his wrist, catching her bottom in a searing strike. “Yowzer!”

“Now can we clean the kitchen, or would you like to argue some more?”

Turning to face him, she rubbed the sting. “Damn, Sir, you don’t show any mercy.”

“Do you want me to?”

Did she?
Their gazes locked.

“I want what you’re offering,” she confessed.

“Good. Me, too.” He tossed the towel towards the counter, but Dana snatched it from mid-air and hurried off to her crate. “You were right. She is fast. Sorry about that.”

MW’s nails scrabbled on the tiled floor as he struggled to keep up so he could nip the larger dog’s heels.

“I’ll get it later. If I try to get it now, she’ll think we are playing tug-of-war.”

When they ignored the animals, they settled down.

“Get to work,” he instructed. He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want another spanking.”