Velvet Submission (13 page)

"Ce, you've got to quit teasing that man," Megan giggled. "He may have money, but have you looked into those eyes, girl? He's got the devil in him."

"All I see when I look into his eyes is my future," Celia whispered on a sigh, her expression suddenly serious.

"The hell you do, Celia Lynn." All three girls jumped at the rough voice, and three heads turned in well-practiced unison.

"Dorian, I'm a grown woman and you can't tell me what I can or can't do." Celia snapped, facing her bad-ass Dom of a brother. "You've got your own life to worry about. Besides if you keep bugging me, I'm going to tell Cassidy."

"Tell me what?" Cassidy Anderson-Lassiter, soon to be Jenner, asked, as she linked her arm with Dorian's.

"Tell you that my
brother
is interfering with my life,
yet again
," Celia said smugly. Megan laughed when Dorian turned a sour look on Celia. Most people would run and hide the moment he gave them the cop stare down. Not Celia. She wasn't afraid of anything. Megan admired her so much. Ce's ability to live in the moment without fear and to always know what she wanted out of life had seemed almost unbelievable to Megan until Gregori entered her life.

"She's sniffing after Ryder again," Dorian gave the lovely Cassidy an almost pleading look.

Cassidy laughed and caressed his cheek. "It's hell to see them grow up," she agreed sympathetically, and wove her fingers through his, tugging him gently away from the table.

"You heard me, Celia," he barked and clasped Cassidy's hand tighter as he let her lead him toward the stairs to the third floor. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they had planned for the evening. Megan felt a twinge of envy. As much as she was enjoying the time with her friends, she wanted to take Gregori to her room and have her way with his wickedly beautiful body.

The girls giggled as Celia signaled the waitress for another round. Megan was too excited to drink much. Tonight she was embarking on the biggest risk of her life. To collar the man who'd broken through every defense she ever had. Gregori had proved to her that she could have everything she wanted, everything she needed. A lover and submissive, a partner in a reciprocal exchange of trust that truly was a sharing of souls.

"I don't understand why your Mama sent me here. You certainly look like your havin' fun, Megan Elizabeth." The deep southern voice boomed loud enough to silence conversation at the surrounding tables.

Megan turned her head in complete disbelief, not sure whether to be thrilled or horrified.

"Daddy? What are you doing here?" Beauregard Jamison stood behind her chair, glaring down at her. His five-thousand-dollar suit and fedora made him look more like a gangster than the successful businessman he actually was.

He opened his arms with an impatient gesture. "So you're too grown up to give your daddy a hug, I suppose," he grumbled. Megan let the smile break loose and stood to accept his embrace. He harrumphed irritably as he released her and looked her over.

Megan experienced a moment of extreme embarrassment as he took in her faded jeans and sheer, lace printed peasant top, before she reminded herself that nothing was the way she'd always believed. That newfound confidence allowed her to arch her brows in amusement as he crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her. "Your mother thought you needed to be looked in on. Good thing too." His eyebrows drew down as he looked around the area. "Now get your things. It's time to go."

A few days ago, Megan would have obediently followed her father out of the bar. Not now.

"Now, Daddy, I know good and well Mama didn't send you to check up on me." She wouldn't have, not after their last conversation. Though she very well may have mentioned her concern… "I'm not going anywhere. I'm perfectly fine."

Beauregard's face turned a awful shade of red and Megan was sure he was going to have a stroke. She softened her voice. "Daddy, go to my house, and I'll be along later."

"The hell you will, young lady. It seems living up here among these Yankees you've forgotten your manners." Megan wanted to roll her eyes. She loved her father very much but his whole chauvinistic attitude was one of the reasons she left Georgia in the first place. Still, she felt like she was seeing him through new, clearer eyes. Behind his bluster, she saw the fear and worry that had doubtless brought him racing to her side at the first hint she might not be happy. It was an insight that allowed her, for the first time in her adult life, to keep her temper in the face of his unreasonable demands.

"I have manners, thank you very much.
I'm
not the one making a scene." He sputtered as she continued. "Now, Daddy, you seem to have forgotten that I'm well over the age of eighteen. You don't get to drag me home if I break curfew." Inside she was smiling, while on the outside she kept her expression neutral. Her father would only be pushed so far before he lost his temper.

Beauregard wrapped a firm hand around her arm and leaned in to speak in a low, intense voice in her ear. "I know what goes on in here, Megan Elizabeth, and this is no place for
my
daughter."

"Megan," Gregori's accented voice rolled over her like warm honey. "Do you need assistance?" His large hand cupped the nape of her neck and squeezed gently. "Is there something you wish for me to do?"

His eyes took on a silvery glow and Megan knew his question had a double meaning. She smiled at the little glow it kindled low in her belly, and shifted so the two most important men in her life faced each other.

"I'm fine, sugar," she assured her lover. "Daddy, this is Gregori Lavinkia." Her father scowled even harder by way of greeting. "Sugar, this is my father. He's just leaving," she added with a pointed look toward the older man.

"The hell I am. Your mother and I didn't raise you to sass back." His hand tightened on her arm and he added, "And we certainly didn't raise you to pass your time in a place like this!"

Megan felt Gregori stiffen behind her, and she deliberately reached down to remove her father's hand.

"You're wrong. Mama raised me to be an independent woman." Beauregard waved off her statement, and for the first time true anger began to prickle along Megan's nerves. "Daddy, this is not the time or the place for this discussion."

The older man had opened his mouth, no doubt to begin a harangue of disagreement that would keep the entire population of the first-floor bar entertained, when an unmistakable, deep voice cut him off.

"Jamison," Brady Ryder's deep, slightly gravely voice cut through the conversation like a knife. "It's … surprising to see you here."

"Bradford Ryder," Beauregard offered his hand and Brady shook it with obvious reluctance. "Your daddy mentioned you were living in Michigan. I wouldn't have expected to find you in a place like this." Megan's father surveyed the first-floor dance space. While no one here played, there were plenty of young, toned bodies in various forms of scanty club gear, including a good amount of leather and latex.

Brady offered a thin smile. "Then you'll really be disappointed to know I own the place."

"Well," Beauregard cleared his throat, obviously ruffled by Brady's words, "I've just come to gather Megan and take her home. She has no business being here. I would have thought you knew that, Brady."

She cringed as Brady's normally tense body tightened even further. "Mr. Jamison, your daughter is over the age of consent and capable of making her own decisions. I can't keep her out of here as long as no rules are broken." Brady shot her a dry look and added in a low voice, "Believe me, I tried."

Gregori's breath warmed the side of her throat. "Maybe you should go and calm your father down."

She spun on him, ready to give him a good tongue lashing, but his subtle glance at the security logo on his t-shirt reminded her that he was speaking as Velvet Ice's head of security, not her submissive. Still, she couldn't just let her daddy drag her home like a naughty child.

Brady raised a questioning eyebrow at Megan.

"I'm not leaving, Brady."

He threw his hands in the air. "Fine. I'll let you borrow my office and you can work out your disagreement there."

"Thank you, Brady." She smiled but he'd already turned and headed for the employee doors.

Gregori waited until Megan moved to follow Brady but kept near her shoulder. She was thankful for the heat his presence gave her.

Brady stopped in front of his door and held it open as she, her father, and Gregori filed through.

Beau rounded Brady's worn out desk and sat in the battered leather chair. He was used to being at the head of the table or behind a desk. It was her father's power position, and no one ever came close to the intimidating figure her father made. It was why he was so wealthy; he could charm, manipulate or even scare his opponents. What her father failed to understand was that Megan had watched every move he made, everything he said, and she'd quickly learned exactly how to play him.

Around Beau she was the perfect southern belle, but out in the real world, in her job at the hospital, she used the skills gleaned from her father. It allowed her to strap down drug-crazed overdoses or hold the hand of an innocent kid who'd been shot by merely being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Megan's mother had given her the compassion and all the love in the world. Her father gave her integrity and strong will.

"I'd like a word alone with my daughter." Beau stated, looking past Megan to Brady, Gregori and his driver. Brady opened the door and walked out. Gregori turned, prepared to leave, but Megan grabbed his hand. He turned, his grey eyes smoky. He understood the significance of Megan's silent order.

"I said I wanted to talk to you alone." Her father's voice rose considerably now that they were tucked away in Brady's office. He didn't address Megan but Gregori. "Are you deaf, son? I want to talk to Megan alone."

"I'm sorry Mr. Jamison, but I can't leave her." Megan heart burst wide open; she gathered strength from Gregori's statement to her father.

Beau was not used to people disobeying him and he turned his frustration and anger back to Megan. "I see what's going on. You let this one paddle your ass?"

Megan sucked in a deep breath. To hear her father mention anything about sex in front of her stopped her for a moment. Knowing Beau, he'd probably been spying on her since her call to her mother. It wouldn't have taken much detective work to understand the workings of Velvet Ice. She wished she could have been a fly on the wall when the news of her frequenting a BDSM club was relayed to her father.

"Daddy
no one
paddles my behind. I do the paddling." Her voice took on her Domme tone and she felt Gregori shiver at her back.

Beau wiped his hand over his face. "Megan, let's be reasonable about this."

"Daddy, there is no reason for me to even be having this conversation with you. My private life is mine alone. As you can see, I'm fine, beyond that is none of your concern."

"Not as long as you're living off my money. You stay and I'll cut you off." Beau smiled in his triumph. "No more monthly allowance. How would you like that, girl?"

Megan smiled as she prepared to burst her father's balloon, "Go ahead, Daddy. I've been donating my allowance every month since I moved here. I still have my trust fund money from Grandma Stella and I am damn good at investing. In fact, you'd be proud if you saw just how much I
don't
need your money. The only ones to suffer would be those places I give your money to." Megan grabbed Gregori's much larger hand and laced their fingers together. "I love you daddy, but I'm a grown woman. You have no right telling me who I should love or how I should love them. Give Mama a hug for me."

She blew him a kiss, then walked out on her father with Gregori holding tightly to her hand.

Chapter Nine

Gregori followed Megan bemusedly through the crowd around Velvet Ice's dance floor. Sinclair Martin caught his eye with a smile, and waved him toward the door. Gregori, assured he was off-duty for the night, obediently trailed along in Megan's wake, shrugging good naturedly. His Mistress had claimed him. He had no complaints.

He maintained his silence through the club, into the parking lot, and even into Megan's misleadingly sedate Ford Fusion, where he had to jack the passenger seat back to its farthest extreme in order to fit his legs into the cramped space. He might have spoken as Megan glowered at the traffic on Livernois, but she held up one imperious hand with clear command.

By the time they stopped in front of her condo, he was starting to worry. She had claimed him. In front of her father, for God's sake. Still, he couldn't quite shake the memory of the night she'd stolen him from Anne. He followed her into the condo and paused in the tiny foyer, breathing in the scent of Megan that hung in the air. He loved her, loved her sweetness and her fire; he wanted to trust her, but that last sliver of icy fear remained.

Megan had continued on to the living room and flung her purse on the couch. Turning, she seemed to realize he wasn't close behind her any more, and walked slowly back to the foyer.

"Gregori," she drawled, and her slow husky voice just crawled right down his spine and sent his dick to full attention.

"Yes, Megan?" Her lips pressed tight at his informal reply, and hope flickered a bit brighter and his dick rose a bit higher at the sight.

"Yes,
what
?" She'd placed one hand on her hip and drawn her shoulders back, a posture that highlighted her curving hips and bounteous breasts. Gregori answered with a suddenly dry mouth.

"Yes…
Mistress
?"

Now her eyes narrowed, and the second hand rose to join the first, so that she faced him like a pissed-off Valkyrie dressed in denim and lace.

"Is there some question, Gregori?" Her voice was hard, which was wicked sexy; her eyes were cautious, which was … promising.

"I do not wish for there to be … Mistress," he replied. He was frustrated with the verbal fencing, exhausted from the tightrope he felt like he was walking, and done with the games. He'd hoped she was, too, but her cautious words and contradictory body language were keeping him on tenter-hooks.