The Dom's Dungeon (19 page)

One
eyebrow tilted up. “I'm not?”

“No.”
Maybe she was being rude, but still…

“Do you
not like presents, little cat?” he asked softly.

“I—” She
pushed back from the table and stepped around Butler to walk across the room
and back. “You see, presents are—should be reciprocal in a way. But I don't
have any money, so I can't give you anything back, and just taking things makes
me feel”—
like a whore
—“useless. And
greedy.”

He had
that observant look in his eyes again, that stillness in his body that showed
he'd focused totally on her. But then he smiled and said gently, “All right,
sweetheart. I can see how you might feel that way.” He held his hand out to
her, one of those silent commands that tilted her world.

How did he
do this to her? Even when he wasn't being a Dom, he was. She put her hand in
his.

And then
he grinned. “So since we don't have any good science fiction, we're watching
Patton
tonight.”

“We are
not.” Their ongoing fight. Chick flicks and science fiction versus his war
movies. Actually, she loved having someone with whom to watch a movie, even if
the movie sucked. Not just watch either. Since their time at the beach, the
movies had acquired “intermissions.” He'd taken her in front of the fireplace,
bent over the arm of a couch, and while straddling his legs on the chair. If
she gave him any trouble—or if the mood struck him—she might find her hands
bound.

Or ordered
to stay in one place without moving.
God, that had been so
difficult—lying on her back, legs open, hands over her head while he… She
swallowed and caught the simmer of heat in his eyes.

“I want to
see
Sleepless in Seattle
. It seems
only appropriate considering I'm living here,” she said, ignoring the way her
voice had turned husky. “We'll flip for it.” She pulled away and carried her
dishes out to the kitchen.

Alex set
his dishes beside hers on the counter. Then firm hands closed around her waist,
and he set her on the kitchen island.

“Hey.” She
frowned at him. “What—”

Clever
fingers unbuttoned her shirt. “I want dessert before my movie.”

* * * * *

She'd
fallen asleep, curled in his lap, head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of
her head, enjoying the light citrus fragrance of her hair and the heavier scent
of hot, raunchy sex. The movie she'd chosen continued to play, but he'd muted
the sound when she drifted off.

Interviewing
for jobs must be hard work. Probably living with him was harder.

She'd come
a long way in the past week. She didn't flinch away from his touch now, and her
responses during sex were uninhibited and responsive. God, he enjoyed making
love to her.

But
holding her like this, teasing her during their meals, waking with her in his
arms, pleased him just as much. In fact, he couldn't envision the house without
her in it. Butler made good company, and listened attentively to Alex's
complaints about idiotic managers, but he couldn't come up with suggestions as
MacKensie
did. Or laugh when Alex told of the latest
fiasco. As a dining companion, Butler left something to be desired too.

He shook
his head slightly. What the hell was he thinking? He didn't want a
relationship, dammit. He liked his life, his solitude, and having his house to
himself. Or he had.

His little
sub wouldn't be leaving right away, though. He'd talked her into staying at
least a couple of more weeks, or until she secured a position. Her reluctance
had bothered him, until he realized it had nothing to do with him but
originated in her hatred of being under obligation to someone. To anyone.

She
certainly had an abundance of pride. In many ways, she reminded him of his
mother, and wasn't that an appalling thought?

Mac
stirred and murmured, and he realized she'd stiffened. Her head thrashed back
and forth, and the high whimpers she gave sounded like those of a child. Her
hands opened and closed.

“
MacKensie
, wake up,” he said, keeping his voice low.
Nonthreatening. “Wake up now.”

Her eyes
opened. She blinked up at him, then looked around the room. “Not a closet,” she
whispered.

“No
closet,” he agreed. He stroked her shoulder.

“I hate
locked doors, you know,” she confided, still muzzy with sleep. “I have to open
them.”

“Do you
now?” And there, in two little sentences, she'd given him the answer to his unlocked
dungeon. “How did you learn to do that?”

“Jenny
taught me. She was a lot older, at least thirteen, and her dad taught her to
pick locks. That's why they put her in foster care. She carried her picks
everywhere. I do too. I can open almost anything.” Eyes half closed, his little
sub smiled up at him sweetly.

His little
master of locked doors.
Huffing a laugh, Alex ran a hand down her arm,
and she settled, sighing softly. Her body trusted him instinctively, or she'd
never allow herself to sleep in his arms, but her subconscious, holder of all
her secrets?

He'd made
progress. But he wanted more. He wanted the rest of her story, the reason she'd
not had sex for twelve years, the reason she stiffened whenever a man touched
her unexpectedly. Rape… He'd thought rape at first, but it didn't quite fit.
Her attitude toward sex hadn't been fear as much as revulsion and coldness at
the thought of being intimate. Her emotions would shunt away to somewhere else.
No, he didn't see violence during sex in her past…but perhaps abuse?

Pulling
her closer, he rubbed his cheek against her silky, golden hair. Somehow he
needed to get her to talk. As her lover, he wanted to know; as her Dom, he
needed to know. But for tonight, he'd take the little confidence she'd just
shared with him.

* * * * *

Mac eyed
her evening gown, which she needed to somehow don without ripping off her fancy
nails or messing up her hair. She held out her hand and grinned at the
sparkling colors of her perfectly rounded fingernails.
Amazing.

Earlier in
the day, Hope had arrived and dragged Mac right out of the house. “
The guys are treating us
,” she'd said,
obviously delighted to have company at the ritzy spa she took Mac to.

Sadly
inexperienced in all the girl rituals, Mac had thought she'd have been intimidated
by the staff and have a terrible time. But with Hope chattering away, the
afternoon went quickly as they giggled and indulged in facials, soaks, scrubs,
and massages. Now Mac ran her hand over her arm. Her skin had never felt so
smooth and soft.

Other
places were smooth also, and hadn't that just been fun? No one had told Mac all
of what Alex had ordered and paid for. Like the horrendous thing called
waxing
, where they'd ripped the hair
right off her legs.
Frak
, that hurt…but then they'd
moved higher.
Oh. My. God
. Well, her
pussy was now bare and smooth.

And she
planned to kill Alex dead when she got the chance.

After a
glass of wine, she'd managed to stop whimpering as she and Hope went on to get
their hair styled, manicures, pedicures—someone had even done her makeup.

And
now…with infinite care, she put on her gown. As she pulled the straps up over
her arms, she glanced in the mirror and stared. God, she looked…fantastic.
Elegant. The beautician had French braided her hair in a deceptively simple style,
weaving in tiny strands of diamond-laced pink ribbon that matched Mac's gown.
I sparkle.

“Very
nice.”
Alex
appeared in the mirror behind her and zipped up the back of the gown. Or maybe
it should be called the butt of the dress, considering the absence of any
material from her shoulders to her hips. She jumped when Alex's hand slid down
her spine and stopped just above her bottom. On bare skin. “Dancing with you
will be a pleasure,” he murmured. Moving closer, he bent his head and kissed
her in the hollow below her ear, making a humming sound when he smelled the
exotic perfume one of the women had insisted was her fragrance.

His
approval made her glow more than all the pampering. She glanced in the mirror
again and smiled. Of course, she did look nice. Really, really nice. And he'd
arranged it all.

All
. She raised her chin, scowling into Alex's eyes
in the mirror. “You sadist,” she snapped. “You told them to…” She felt her face
turning red and sputtered out, “Do you know how much that hurts?”

Her move
away from him was forestalled when he put one unyielding arm around her waist.
His other hand slid down her gown to press against her groin. The feel of silky
fabric, then the warmth of his hand penetrating to her poor bare pussy made her
shiver, and he chuckled.

“I'll make
amends later,” he murmured in her ear, and she could feel his cock hardening
where he pressed against her from behind.

She
thought about what his mouth would feel like on all that newly bare, sensitive
skin, and her breathing hitched. “
Mmmmh
.” She cleared
her throat against the constriction. “You do that, then.”

“Oh I
intend to.” With a low laugh, he nipped the top of her shoulder, and her
nipples puckered so tightly, they ached.

She pulled
in a breath. Enough, or they'd spend the evening in bed. She moved far enough
away to turn. Getting a good look at him, she blinked. “Wow. You clean up
pretty nice, Mr. Fontaine.”

His eyes
crinkled, only adding to the devastating effect of all that masculinity in a
black tuxedo. “Thank you. Now you may tell Butler the same.” He nodded at the
door.

She
followed his gaze and burst out laughing. Sitting politely by the door, Butler
had on a dog-style tux and bow tie. Rather than appearing chagrined by the
costume, he looked quite proud of himself.

“You look
stunning, Butler. I'm going to be with the two most gorgeous males there
tonight.”

Butler's
muzzle rose a little in acknowledgment of this truth.

Well, the
evening couldn't be all bad if people brought their pets. She took a deep
breath as Alex draped her cape over her shoulders.

Now if she
only didn't do anything stupid…

The
black-tie event of the fall, one newspaper had called it. Mac gaped like a hick
as they walked through a hotel lobby filled with the elite of Seattle society,
many of whom had pet escorts ranging from Chihuahuas in chiffon tutus to Great
Danes in diamond-studded collars.

One German
shepherd paraded around in a crown and kingly robes. “Oh my, just look at him.”
After a second, Mac recalled herself. “Butler, you're the best-looking dog
here.”

Butler
gave her a dignified tail wave in answer.

Holding
Butler's leash, Alex chuckled. “The pet stores do a brisk business before the
ball.” He set his hand on her lower back, and his thumb stroked over her bare
skin.

Giving him
an exasperated look, she saw the amusement in his eyes. He definitely liked her
backless gown. As he guided her through the crowd, exchanging greetings with
people here and there, Mac tried not to enjoy the protective feeling of his arm
around her.
Don't get used to it,
MacKensie
. Nothing like this lasts.

Although
she wouldn't lose him for at least two more weeks.

Really,
she shouldn't have let him talk her into staying, but her common sense and her
own desire had overcome her pride. But once she had a job, then her common
sense would be satisfied, and she'd leave.

Frak
, I'll miss him.

When the
hotel manager cornered Alex with questions about the auction, Mac watched the
people milling around and realized she didn't know any of them.
Good
. No one to point fingers or whisper
behind her back. And yet loneliness created a little hollow in her chest. After
the hotel manager bustled away, she asked, “Will Hope and Peter be here?”

Alex
brushed his knuckles over her cheek, his look so tender, she couldn't move.
“We'll find them in the auction area. Peter volunteered to oversee one of the
tables.”

They made
it at least twenty feet before they were stopped again. Alex performed
introductions, talked briefly, and moved on. Ten feet. Introductions. Chatting
as Butler politely exchanged sniffs with each leashed pet. Ten more feet. “Do
you know everyone here?” Mac finally asked.

“Fontaine
Industries owns various businesses, properties, and all that, so I know a lot
of people, yes. And those who support the dog and cat programs come every
year.” He grinned and bent down to pat Butler. “This is Butler's fourth year.”

“Alex,
good to see you.”
A middle-aged brunette in a scarlet gown
strolled over. “The auction is a hit. How did you finagle those cruise-ship
packages?”

“I have a
sweet-talking manager who I
sicced
on the cruise
lines.” Alex smiled at Mac. “Susan, this is my friend
MacKensie
Taylor. She's a vet from the Midwest and plans to relocate here to Seattle.
Mac, this is Susan Weston. She runs the Weston Animal Hospital.”