The Dom's Dungeon (6 page)

He
chuckled. “
MacKensie
, there will be times I expect
you to be in a submissive role.
Certain private parties, at
the club, and occasionally at other times if I have friends over who are in the
lifestyle.
Otherwise we will operate on a fairly equal footing.”

“Fairly
equal?” she asked carefully.

He had a
dimple in his cheek when he smiled. “From what I've seen, you probably aren't
submissive twenty-four hours of the day, just under certain circumstances. Of
course, that may change as you find out more about yourself.” He drank some
coffee and stretched an arm across the back of the couch, far enough that he
could finger her wavy hair. He didn't touch her exactly, just her hair, and yet
there was something intimate, almost possessive, about his action. “Now, aside
from this being my house, it happens that I'm a dominant; I like my own way. So
we will undoubtedly butt heads now and then.”

Well,
knowing he really didn't expect her to play kiss up all the time helped,
although the thought of arguing with him made her feel a little weak. Look at
the way he'd taken over the couch, occupying not only his space but hers also.
Just from that alone, she got a pretty clear idea of what he meant when he said
dominant.

She wet
her dry lips and regretted it immediately when his gaze dropped to her mouth.
Somehow she could almost feel his lips on hers. His lips would be firm and—
Stay on task, Mac. Appear businesslike and
maybe he'll act the same
. She could handle business interactions quite
competently. She cleared her throat. “Ah. When does all this start? You'll need
to give me an idea of what to wear ahead of time and when you expect me to be
available.” And just for sheer contrariness, since he'd said she didn't have to
be under his thumb all the time, she pushed his hand away from her hair.

He didn't
smile, although she could see laughter in his eyes, and she realized he'd won
this round. If they were having a war, she'd just given him information, since
he now knew his touch made her uncomfortable. “This isn't going to work, you
know,” she blurted out. “I don't like being touched.
At all.
Everyone will see that and know that we're not together.”

Moving
slightly closer, he tugged on her hair,
then
put his
hand on her nape, and his touch felt more intimate than another man's kiss.
Why? The heat from his palm penetrated her skin as his fingers closed just
enough to remind her of his ruthless grip yesterday when he'd held her down and
spanked her. The coffee in her cup rippled as her hand started to shake. She
set the cup on her thigh to hide the telltale sign and looked up to meet his
knowing gaze.

Not taking
his hand from her neck, he leaned just an inch forward, invading her personal
space. “Whether you enjoy being touched or not isn't what this is about. I
require your submission and your honesty, nothing more.”

His thumb
rubbed up and down in the hollow under her ear. She hadn't realized how
sensitive that patch of skin could be. Her tiny movement back made his grip
tighten, and she got nowhere. Goose bumps broke out on her arms. “So you still
want to do this?
Me as your sub?”

“Yes,
MacKensie
.
We will continue, and earlier
than I had anticipated. I received a call this morning from Peter. A friend is having
a party at the club tonight, and Cynthia, the woman I told you about, plans to
attend.”

“Tonight?
You
must be joking.” Mac's orderly thoughts scattered into the corners of her mind.
“But…but…I don't have clothes; I don't know what to do. I—”

“No problem.
Do you have any interviews today?”

The
thought of lying crossed her mind and disappeared under the slight narrowing of
his eyes. “No. I set everything up for Monday.”

“Excellent.
Then today we'll go shopping.”

“We?”

“Oh yes,
pet.
Definitely 'we.'”

* * * * *

Later that
day, Alex suppressed a grin as
MacKensie
wandered
past latex corsets and leather
bustiers
, rubber
miniskirts and thigh-high boots. And then he chose clothing for her to suit his
preferences. She might as well start learning some of the various forms
submission could entail. Lucky for her, he didn't enjoy twenty-four-hour
mastery. Unlucky for her, he did occasionally enjoy dominance outside of the
bedroom.

Like
now.

“
MacKensie
.”

She
turned, and her eyes widened at the garments he held out to her.

“Put these
on. I'll wait outside the door to see if they fit.”

Her eyes
narrowed, spine straightening until her height increased by almost an inch,
which still left her half a foot shorter than he was. “I choose my own
clothing, and I judge whether it fits.”

“Not this
time, pet.” Alex kept his voice soft.

Not being
at all slow, she caught the command. With a glare, she snatched the clothes and
stalked into an empty fitting room.

She
probably didn't realize the allure of a woman's ass when she's stomping. Or how
arousing a sub's defiance could be to a dominant. And this one—he shook his
head—could prove to be quite a trial to his control. He'd topped subs before
and kept the interaction platonic; not everything had to be about sex, after
all. But there was definitely a sexual component in the dynamics between him
and
MacKensie
. She pulled at him—
strongly
—and he could see the same pull in her. But she didn't want
to recognize that.

If she
truly felt no attraction to him, he wouldn't think twice about observing her
restrictions.
But if fear corralled her sexuality?
Then that was part of a Dom's mandate—to explore those fears.
But only if he had her trust to do so.

So he
needed to gauge the attraction, help her see that in herself, and earn her
trust. Enjoying the thought of a challenge, he leaned against the door frame to
wait.

When she
appeared, he knew it had been worth the wait. An embarrassed flush highlighted
her cheekbones almost as nicely as the French-maid's corset showcased her round
breasts. The white lace and ribbon decorating the black latex gave her a
fragile appearance, one that would be accentuated when she had on the garters
and G-string that she held in her hand along with the other accessories.

“That will
do nicely,” he said.

“You
cannot be serious.” Her brown eyes sparked with indignation. “I'm not going
to—”

When he
lifted his eyebrows, she managed to cut off the rest of her protest.

“Wait in
there,” he said. “You'll need at least one more outfit.”

She
actually growled as she retreated.

* * * * *

“Surely
Nordstroms
doesn't have kinky clothing,”
MacKensie
said. As they entered the fancy department store,
she was all too aware of Alex's guiding hand on her lower back. He touched
her—often—and always stood just a few inches too close. She knew he did it
deliberately. Since he'd done nothing blatantly sexual that she could challenge
him on, she tried to pretend his actions didn't unsettle her.

He bent
down to murmur in her ear, his warm breath washing across her neck and making
the hairs on her arms rise. “We're done with kink. Now we're shopping for
formal wear for the party you want to attend.”

“I want to
attend? Does that mean you don't?” When she turned to look up at him, he was
still so close that her lips grazed his cheek. She froze.

Rather
than stepping away, he slowly straightened, his lips brushing against hers, as
if accidentally. Only the crinkling of the lines at the corners of his eyes
told her he'd done it deliberately. That, and the fact that every move he made
was as controlled as the words he used.

“Normally
I'd make a short appearance and leave.” He touched her chin lightly with a
finger. “But to do a good job of networking for you, we'll need to spend the
evening.”

He'd do
that for her? An odd uneasiness lodged in the pit of her stomach, one having
nothing to do with his teasing games. Jim and Mary had shown her a selfless
generosity, but they'd thought of her as a daughter. Her sorority sisters in
college had befriended her and given her etiquette lessons, thinking of her as
a challenge. But men…men didn't help women. Not unless they wanted something,
and Fontaine already had her under his thumb. He didn't need to do this.

Head
tilted, he studied her face. “I've rarely seen that amount of disbelief when I
ask a woman to a dance,” he murmured. “But this isn't the place to discuss it.”
He guided her forward through the aisles of clothing.

If he
thought she'd talk about her reaction or why, he was sadly mistaken. Not a
chance.

A minute
later, she planted her feet as something else occurred to her. “I didn't mind
your paying for the…the kinky clothing since it's more for your problem than
mine, but you can't buy me formal wear. That's not right.”

He
turned,
his piercing blue eyes as focused as a laser from a
science-fiction novel. Then he smiled and ran his hands up and down her arms,
less a sexual than a comforting gesture. “
MacKensie
,
I doubt you could afford what you need. It's my pleasure to get it for you.”

She knew
better. Gifts came first, followed by demands. She wasn't that kind of person
anymore. “I can't accept, but thank you.”

When she
tried to step back, his hands tightened on her arms, holding her firmly in
place. “I see. Well then, how about a trade? A lifetime of free care for Butler
in exchange for my purchasing everything I think you'll need while you remain
under my care.”

“Under
your care?”

“Yes,
pet
,” he said, deliberately emphasizing
the word. “I believe that is the bargain we made yesterday. This just adds a
codicil to it.”

“What are
you, a lawyer?”

When he
grinned, the sternness left his face. “I have a law degree, yes, but I'm mostly
a boring businessman.”

“You
couldn't be boring if you tried,” she muttered, then realized he still held her
arms, apparently oblivious to the people having to detour around them. He'd probably
wait there forever for his damned answer, wouldn't he? Considering the
exorbitant price tags for the T-shirts on the rack beside them, the fancy
clothing must be horrendously expensive. Even a lifetime of vet care might not
cover it. But he obviously wasn't lacking for money, and he'd made an effort to
salvage her pride.
“All right.
We have a deal.”

“Good
girl.” He released her and headed toward the elevator.

Despite
the fact that he wore jeans, he obviously exuded the scent of money, for the
saleswoman in the formal-wear department upstairs pounced on him like a cat
discovering a mouse. With an effort, Mac concealed the fact she was shaking in
her sneakers and tried to emulate his polite reserve.

Arm around
Mac, Alex instructed the woman about what he had in mind, consulting Mac only
to get her shoe size. Mac couldn't decide if she felt insulted or coddled.
Coddled won out since she had no clue how to buy a formal gown; she'd never
bought one in her life. Her college finances sure hadn't extended that far.
She'd only been in the sorority because of the influence and funds provided by
an alumnus friend of Mary's.

The
saleswoman returned with an armload of gowns that she held up for Alex's
approval. Not Mac's.

“If you
like them so much, maybe you should try them on,” Mac muttered.

Alex
laughed and then shocked her stupid by kissing the top of her head.

She pulled
on gown after gown, with the saleswoman helping her lace and tie and button and
zip.
Gold, blue, black.
With each one, Alex made
noncommittal noises. The final hanger held a long, full-skirted gown in pink,
and Mac sneered at it.
The
color of cheerleaders
.
“I never wear pink.”

“Pink
would be lovely on you,” the saleswoman said. “Your man has a good eye for
color.” She whisked the gown over Mac's head.

Mac had
barely a glimpse before the woman pushed her gently out of the room to where
Alex waited on a plush couch. Legs outstretched, one arm resting along the
back, he looked thoroughly at home. His eyebrows rose when he saw her this
time. “That's lovely on you,
MacKensie
.”

As warmth
bloomed inside her, she tried not to reveal how much the compliment meant.

He twirled
a finger in the air, a silent command to turn.

She did
and—to hell with it—enjoyed the feel of the luxurious fabric swirling around her
bare legs. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrors and stopped dead.
Whoa, look at that, Miss Elegance
. She
turned one way, then the other, admiring herself, before remembering who
watched.