Surrender (3 page)

“I didn’t tell you to touch me.” He took my arms at the wrists and placed them on the chair’s arms. Then, taking me by surprise, he pulled off his necktie and used it to tie one of them to the armrest.

“Hmmm,” he said, glancing around the room. His gaze snapped to my open crotch, and he smiled. Leaning over me and slipping his hands under my buttocks, he eased my ass off the chair again. I felt him grab my panties at the waist. Down they went. Off my feet. And then he tore them again, creating a long strip of black satin. He used it to tie my other wrist.

He’d tied me up. I’d never been tied before.

His smile made my heart thump heavily, and simmering heat pooled between my legs.

He’d tied me up.

“Do you like this, Abigail? Do you like feeling powerless?”

I did.

I shook my head. His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.” A little rougher than before, he pushed my legs even wider apart. Using both hands, he pulled my wet flesh apart too, bent down, and dragged his tongue over my clit.

My spine arched and I thrust my hips up. Oh God, that felt so good.

He pushed me back down, then shoved two fingers inside me, thrusting them in and out roughly while his tongue flicked back and forth over my tingling nub. With every plunge of those fingers, my body burned hotter. My stomach tensed. My legs. My chest. Oh God, I was going to come.

A flare of heat blazed through me.

Yes, yes, yes!

He stopped, just as I was about to tumble over the precipice.

My heart was thumping, I was gasping, writhing. My eyes snapped open.

Why did he stop?

He was smiling. It was an evil expression, taunting. But in a playful way. “Frustrated a little?”

“No.”

“Good. That’s just a hint of what’s to come. Now, let’s get back to work. Your lunch break’s over.”

Cruel bastard!

I gritted my teeth as I watched him untie my wrists. My tissues were still burning, twitching, and wet. Now I had no panties. And I was still a little lightheaded from breathing so hard and from the endorphins that had been charging through my system like a mad rhino.

Not to mention, I was starving.

How would I concentrate?

Grumbling under my breath, I shuffled after my demanding tease of a boss back out to his office. As he circled around his desk, I noticed there were cartons sitting on it. Foam ones. Restaurant carryout containers.

Oh God, someone had come into his office and placed those on his desk while he’d been tying me to my chair!

I was mortified at the thought that everyone would be whispering about the boss and me in my office, moaning and whimpering.

I slid a glance at the closed door. How much had they heard?

Kameron cleared his throat. “My receptionist is extremely trustworthy. She would never talk about anything she saw or heard. Never.”

Why didn’t that make me feel better? Was it because she would know I was doing something with the boss, something besides taking dictation or setting up appointments?

God, she would think I was one of
those
girls, whores who did their bosses to get ahead.

Suddenly, I wasn’t so hungry anymore.

Oblivious to my guilt trip, Kameron was unwrapping the cartons. He placed one in front of me.

I thanked him, knowing I needed to act like this whole thing was okay for now. I had agreed to his terms. There was no backing out until I had another job lined up. I hadn’t been 100 percent okay with the situation when it had been just the two of us in my office. And now that I was aware of at least one other person knowing, suddenly I felt even worse—dirty and ashamed.

The sooner I found another job, the better.

He was holding a fork in his hand, looking at me. “Eat. We need to get back to work.”

I poked at a potato, popped it in my mouth. Chewed. Swallowed without tasting it.

“You’ve become quiet,” he said as he studied me with those sharp, piercing eyes.

“I’m fine.”

His gaze didn’t leave my face. Not once as he ate, which made it that much harder for me to eat. “Is it Stephanie you’re worried about?”

I shrugged.

“She’s in no position to judge you.”

“Meaning . . . you’ve tied her to her chair too?”

His lips quirked. “No. I’ve never done that with an employee before.”

Now, that statement surprised me. Since he’d seemed so casual about our arrangement, and since he hadn’t denied my earlier accusation that there had been others, I’d assumed he had done the same thing with at least one other assistant.

He tipped his head. “You’re surprised.”

“A little. You didn’t—”

“I didn’t deny having played these games with others,” he finished for me.

“Why?” I asked, trying to understand. This man was odd. He did and said things that didn’t make sense.

“I didn’t deny it because I have played these kinds of games with others. But I didn’t mean other employees.” He leaned forward slightly. His eyes narrowed. “You don’t like me very much, do you.”

“Well . . .” I was treading in dangerous territory here. What Kameron had proposed wasn’t respectable. In fact, it was grounds for a hefty lawsuit. He’d taken advantage of me, my dependency on my job, and my situation with my brother.

Angling back, he smiled. “You don’t have to say it. Point taken.”

I didn’t want to hope that confession might spark a little guilt, leading to him cutting me free of our deal, or at least certain elements of it.

“Why, then? Why’d you do it?” I asked. “If you haven’t done this before, haven’t crossed that line. Why did you do it to me?”

He studied me for a long moment. “I don’t know. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would basically blackmail a woman into being my submissive, I would’ve—”

“Submissive?” I cut him off. “That word was never mentioned. What does that mean, your submissive?”

“I’m using the term loosely here, to mean you are being made to do whatever I ask, whenever I ask it, including performing certain sexual acts.”

Submissive.

For some reason that term didn’t bother me so much. It was better than office slut or prostitute for some reason.

Submissive.

“Is that what you truly expect from me? Am I your submissive?” I asked.

Once again, he didn’t answer right away. “Yes. I’ll draft a contract. We’ll put it all in writing. Then you’ll know exactly what you’re agreeing to. I’ll get it to you by the end of the day.” He flipped the top over the remaining food in his lunch container and handed it to me. “Please put this in the refrigerator. I have a lot to finish up before five o’clock.”

Taking his actions as a command to leave, I closed up my lunch, put both in the small refrigerator built into the wall unit opposite his desk, and closed myself in my office.

I was alone now. Safe in my little office. Away from those piercing eyes of his and his deft hands and wicked mouth.

Alone with the memory of what he’d done to me.

Here.

In this very chair, just a short time ago.

My insides pulsed.

I was (maybe) about to sign a contract, becoming Kameron Maldonado’s submissive.

What if it was more than I could handle?

What if he put things in there I couldn’t do? What if he expected too much? What would I do?

I needed to find a new job today!

My cell phone rang, and I glanced at it.

My brother.

What was it now?

3

“A
bby? Where are you?” It was my brother. He never called me with good news. Never.

“I’m at work. Why?”

“It’s no big deal. I just need some money.”

It’s no big deal. How many times had I heard that line? My insides twisted. Already he’d caused me hell this week. What was next? “What’s going on? Why do you need money?” I asked, afraid I wouldn’t like the answer.

“Well . . . I’m sorta in jail.”

“Jail?” My gaze jerked to the door between my office and Kameron’s. Had he lied about going to the police? “The bastard!” How could he? I shot out of my chair.

“It’s no big deal, Abby. I was caught driving with a suspended license.”

“Oh.” I stopped in my tracks, circled back around to my chair, and flopped into it. God, the crazy ups and downs this kid was taking me on. “Joss. Dammit. There’s going to come a day when I can’t help you. You’ve got to stop—”

“I’m sorry,” he said, interrupting my tirade. “I swear it won’t happen again. I gotta go. My time’s up. Will you come?”

I wanted to pull my hair out. Dammit, what was it going to take to get my brother to straighten up? What was it freaking going to take? I was so tired of it all—the drinking, the fights, the arrests. It had been going on for so long. Too long.

“Please. This time was different,” he said. “And that other stuff. I didn’t do that.”

It was always different. It was never his fault. “I’ll see what I can do.” I shoved my fingers through my hair. It would probably look like hell, but I didn’t give a damn right now. It felt like I had the weight of a semi truck on my shoulders. For one small bit of time, I wished I could shove that weight off and just breathe.

“Thanks. Sis?”

“Yeah,” I said on a sigh.

“I’m sorry I’ve made your life a living hell these past few years. I swear I’m trying to get my shit together.”

“I hope that’s true. I hope you’re trying. Because if you don’t straighten up quickly . . . I don’t know if I can live like this anymore.” I blinked. My eyes were burning. Dammit.

Dammit.

“I hear you. Love you.”

“Love you too.” I clicked off and tossed my phone into my purse.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why did loving someone have to be so damned destructive? Why?

 

A couple of hours later my office door swung open. Kameron strolled in. He was halfway between the doorway and my desk when he stopped. His brows scrunched together. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I blinked a couple of times. Sniffled. Even after so much time had passed, both my nose and eyes were still burning.

He was holding a manila envelope in his hands. The contract, I assumed.

I extended an arm. “I’m guessing that’s for me?”

He looked down at his hands, then up at my face. “It can wait—”

“I’ll take it now, thank you. I want some time to read it over.”

Some expression I couldn’t quite name flashed across his face. He placed the envelope into my hand. “You’ve done enough for today. Go home.”

That was one command I didn’t mind following. “Thank you, sir.” Tucking the envelope under my arm, I collected my purse. He headed back to his office. As I hurried through it to the lobby, he watched me.

“Good-bye, Abigail,” he said as I pulled open the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sir,” I said before I scurried out.

 

Two thousand dollars. Two freaking thousand dollars. That was what it had cost me to bail Joss out of jail this time. If it hadn’t been for Kameron’s generosity, I wouldn’t have had the money.

“This is the last time,” I warned Joss as we walked out to my car. “If I hadn’t just gotten a big bonus, your ass would still be in jail. I can’t afford to help you anymore.”

“I hear you.” He slumped into the passenger side and clicked himself in.

I flung myself into my seat and rammed the key into the ignition. “What the hell was so important—forget that. I don’t want to hear the excuses. You don’t have a driver’s license. Don’t drive!” I yelled.

“I promise I won’t.”

Seething, I drove him home. I stomped to my room to change my clothes. He slinked away, heading to his room to hide until he found some more trouble to get himself into.

Why? Why did he insist on destroying his life?

I banged open my closet door and hung up my work clothes. Then I stomped into the bathroom, cranked on the water, and scalded myself into a (slightly) better mood. I came out drippy and clean and a little less furious. Then, my stomach reminding me I hadn’t eaten since lunch, I headed to the kitchen to find something to eat.

I was digging in the freezer, checking out my options, when someone knocked on my door. The knock was loud and insistent.

I peered through the peephole.

I didn’t recognize the woman standing outside. I cracked open the door.

“Hello,” she said with a heavy accent of some kind. “Is Joss at home? I thought I saw him.”

“Yes, he is.” Who was this woman? Was she trouble? A drug addict, maybe, looking for some drugs? These days, anyone who banged on my door looking for my brother was suspect.

“May I speak with him?” the woman asked.

“One moment. Let me see if he’s gone to bed.” I shut and locked the door before heading back to my brother’s room.

I knocked, and he responded with a “Yeah?” shouted through his door.

“Some woman is outside, wanting to speak with you.” His door inched open. “What woman?”

“I don’t know. Youngish with an accent, dark hair.”

“Okay. Let me put on a shirt.” While he dressed, I headed back to the kitchen, which was open to the living room and within sight of the front door.

My brother loped through the living room to the front door and opened it. “Hi.”

The woman scurried into our apartment. “Joss, I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what happened today. If I’d known you would get into trouble, I wouldn’t have asked—”

“It’s okay,” Joss interrupted. “I knew I shouldn’t be driving, but I did it anyway. That was my choice.”

Okay, I was curious. What had happened?

I inched around the end of the counter, listening, pulling on a corner of the frozen dinner box in my hands.

“But you wouldn’t have if—”

Again, Joss interrupted. “It’s okay.” My brother set a hand on the woman’s shoulder, but he didn’t appear to be overly intimate with her. “How is Eduardo?”

“He’s better. He had to get over thirty stitches and some shots, but the doctors said he’ll be okay.” The woman was wringing her hands, looking guilty, emotionally torn.

Okay, this wasn’t what I had been thinking. Not at all. For once, Joss had been trying to help someone?

“Good. Any word on the dog?” my brother asked.

“No. If they don’t find it, Eduardo will have to get more shots.”

Dog. Shots. The picture was getting clearer.

Joss said, “I’ll keep my eyes open, see if I can catch him.”

“Be careful. Please.” The woman back-stepped toward the door.

“I will.”

At the doorway, she hesitated. “Thank you again. I’m sorry you got into trouble. I tried to tell the officer, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Don’t worry about it. The only thing that matters is Eduardo. We got him to the hospital and he’s going to be okay.”

“Yes.”

“Keep me posted, okay?”

“I will.” The woman patted my brother’s shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

“Thanks.” He closed the door. Our gazes met as he headed back toward his room.

I stopped him with a question. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it doesn’t matter, right? I was breaking the law. You told me you didn’t want to hear any excuses.”

Shit.

His words struck me harder than a physical blow.

“I was expecting something else. Another kind of excuse.”

“Yeah, I know. The way I’ve been lately, who could blame you?” He visibly sighed.

“What about the thing at MalTech?” I asked. “You haven’t told me what happened. Is it different from what I might think too?”

“I didn’t take anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” His shoulders slumped a little. “I’m sorry, Abby. Really sorry. About what happened at work. And this. You got me the job at MalTech. And I blew that. I want you to be able to trust me. I want you to respect me again, like you used to.”

God, his words were like daggers in my heart. He’d nailed it when he said I didn’t respect him anymore. “I want that too,” I said, thumbing away the tears leaking from my eyes.

My brother yanked me into a big bear hung. “I swear I’m going to get everything straightened out. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll make it happen.”

Stepping out of his embrace, I gave him a weak smile. “I hope so. But it’s going to be rough. Now, after this latest arrest, you have a court date to make, probably fines to pay. You don’t have a job, don’t have a reference to get a new one.”

“At least driving with a suspended license is only a misdemeanor. Won’t hurt me too bad. Once I pay the fines, my record should clean up. But if someone from MalTech goes to the police . . .”

“That isn’t going to happen,” I told him.

“How do you know?”

“I talked to Kameron Maldonado. We’ve . . . worked out an understanding.”

“You . . . ?” My brother’s eyes widened, then narrowed to little squints. “What kind of understanding?” His voice was low, practically a growl.

“Not the kind you think,” I lied. In all likelihood, he was probably thinking something very close to the truth. “I’m working directly under him now, as his administrative assistant.”

His squinty eyes got even more squinty. “Why?”

“I guess so I can help him clear up the mess you allegedly made,” I said, feeling my face warming. The last thing I needed was my brother running back to MalTech and causing more trouble. Somehow I had to convince him the situation was perfectly legit. “Part of it I think was he felt bad for me, since I told him we relied upon your income to supplement mine. With the new job comes a pay raise. I’m making more now than you and I had combined.”

“But—”

“Don’t. Don’t wreck this for me, Joss,” I snapped, letting my tone tell him I didn’t want or need his interference.

“Is he . . . doing anything inappropriate? Or making you do anything you don’t want to do?”

I knew why he’d asked that. He’d heard the same rumors about Maldonado that I had.

“No, though I’m not crazy about filing,” I added, hoping the joke would lighten things up. “Never have been.”

Finally, my brother’s expression changed a little. He was still suspicious. I could see it in the tightness in his jaw. But at least now he wasn’t ready to rip off anyone’s head. “If he does anything, tries anything, you’d better tell me.”

“I will.” A lie. But, whatever.

Joss took a step toward his room, pausing next to me to give me the side eye. “Something about this sounds fishy.”

“So far, everything’s good. I swear.” If he knew I had come home from work with my torn underpants in my purse, he might disagree. I was going to have to dispose of them carefully.

“O-okay. I’ve sent my resume out to a few companies and I’m meeting with an employment agency tomorrow. I’m going to find another job. I’m the man of the house. That’s my responsibility.”

If he had done what he just said, that was encouraging. “That’s good.”

Outside of the third degree I was given about my new job, I was very happy about the way this conversation had gone. With the news about the employment agency appointment, Joss was sounding more like the Joss I’d hoped he would someday become. If it wasn’t all an act, we might be turning the corner.

Maybe my prayers had finally been answered.

 

The next morning, my phone started ringing the instant I stepped into the shower. And it didn’t stop. Not while I washed up, or while I shaved my legs, or while I finally got annoyed, cut off the water, and wrapped myself in a towel.

I answered with a grouchy sounding, “Yes, sir?”

“Pack an overnight bag.”

I glared at the phone, then tossed it on the bed. “Good morning to you too,” I grumbled as I stomped into some clean panties.

I dressed in something work appropriate and travel friendly, then went down to the kitchen for some coffee. Caffeine. I needed caffeine. Lots of it.

After getting the coffeemaker going, I went down to our storage cage in the building’s basement, dug out a small carry-on suitcase, and hauled it upstairs to pack. On the way up, I filled a cup of steaming hot happiness and slurped my way back to my room.

Assuming I was supposed to be packing for one day, I packed enough clothes for two, just in case. Work clothes, underwear, makeup and hair stuff, shoes . . . and one sexy something, just in case he was expecting it. And the contract, which I hadn’t read yet. After the drama of last night, I hadn’t been in the right frame of mind to tackle it. I was rolling the packed suitcase down the hall and finishing up cup number one of coffee when Joss poked his head out, took one look at my suitcase, and growled, “What the hell?”

“Business trip.”

Joss rolled his bloodshot eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“A business owner does go out of town on business trips, you know. Especially ones who have branches in other states. And they usually take their administrative assistants with them.”

“The bastard knows what he’s doing,” my brother seethed through gritted teeth. “Don’t let him treat you like a whore.”

Rage pulsed through me at the sound of that word. “Oh, he won’t. I won’t let that happen. I’m no man’s whore.”

That seemed to take a little fire out of Joss’s eyes. “Demand separate rooms.”

“I will.”