now.
“Marcella.”
The sharp edge of command was in his voice, cutting across anything Lucas had been about to say. Marcie’s gaze snapped to his desk, a startled look on her face.
“That was disrespectful. I’m disappointed in you. Apologize.”
She flushed, but he’d been looking for a particular reaction, testing those waters further. He got it. He saw the chagrin, that pained response a slave had when she disappointed her Master. Her hands slipped off the desk, folded in her lap, and she bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Lucas.”
“Mr. Adler,” Ben corrected her. “That’s what he is here.”
Even as he said it, he imagined her dream again. Her lips wrapped around Lucas’ dick as he ate his wife’s pussy. Marcie on her knees, servicing him at Ben’s command. Ben’s slave entirely, to do with as he wished.
Mentoring. He was mentoring.
“Mr. Adler.” Marcie’s voice was a near whisper, but he didn’t have to correct her this time. She cleared her throat, repeated it, more loudly.
“What’s going on here?” Lucas’ gray eyes narrowed.
“Discipline,” Matt said mildly. He exchanged a look with Lucas that said whatever this was, they weren’t talking it out here. The Kensington CEO moved his shrewd dark gaze to Ben. “Are you ready? We’ve got about fifteen minutes to get there. And Marcie?”
She looked up then, her expression still wary.
“You’re right. You probably can drink Lucas under the table in tequila shots. He’s always been a lightweight.”
She dimpled, though she stole a glance at Ben. He’d picked up his laptop case, was acting as he always acted now, and he saw her register it, her shoulders ease, though there was still a cautious set to them. He’d taken her off balance with that one, but she’d responded to him on instinct, responded to him as her Master, over and above the other two Doms present. He didn’t know if that made things better or worse. Probably worse, because now he also had to deal with those two Doms. Particularly one of them, who looked as if he was deciding whether they needed to head for their meeting or make a brief stop in an alley to leave Ben’s bleeding and broken body there.
“I need a few minutes to give my assistant direction for the day,” he said casually, meeting Lucas’ level stare. “Why don’t I meet you in the car?”
Matt nodded. “Five minutes.”
Ben made a gesture of assent as Lucas gave him a Get the hell downstairs so we can talk this out look, then followed.
Once they were gone, Ben came out to her area, braced his knuckles on her desk. Marcie’s cheeks were still stained that attractive red. He wondered if her ass would be the same color after he went after it. Leaning down, he watched her press her lips together as he got close to her mouth, stopped short to meet her gaze close up. “That vibrator better stay in the nightstand unless I tell you that you can use it. I want you hot, wet and suffering.”
“Are you going to take me to a club?” He saw that little flash of defiance, the high set of her chin. He had just the thing for that. A five-inch-width collar that locked into place under the jaw, making her hold it at that defiant angle until her neck ached and she remembered better manners. Alternatively, Peter had shown him an intriguing rope bondage design—the “haughty pose”—where the slave could be tied in a way that forced her to hold her head up until she was begging to bow it down in a deferential manner. Choices, choices.
Jesus, he needed to stop thinking about this stuff, or he’d have a lot more to explain to Lucas as he hobbled to the car with his briefcase and massive erection.
“Taking you to a club is my decision. I’ll let you know when I make it.”
“Remember what I said,” she returned, giving him a glare. “If you’re not willing to be my Master, you don’t get to say what I put in my pus—”
“Whether I take you to a club has a lot to do with whether I think you
“Marcella.”
The sharp edge of command was in his voice, cutting across anything Lucas had been about to say. Marcie’s gaze snapped to his desk, a startled look on her face.
“That was disrespectful. I’m disappointed in you. Apologize.”
She flushed, but he’d been looking for a particular reaction, testing those waters further. He got it. He saw the chagrin, that pained response a slave had when she disappointed her Master. Her hands slipped off the desk, folded in her lap, and she bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Lucas.”
“Mr. Adler,” Ben corrected her. “That’s what he is here.”
Even as he said it, he imagined her dream again. Her lips wrapped around Lucas’ dick as he ate his wife’s pussy. Marcie on her knees, servicing him at Ben’s command. Ben’s slave entirely, to do with as he wished.
Mentoring. He was mentoring.
“Mr. Adler.” Marcie’s voice was a near whisper, but he didn’t have to correct her this time. She cleared her throat, repeated it, more loudly.
“What’s going on here?” Lucas’ gray eyes narrowed.
“Discipline,” Matt said mildly. He exchanged a look with Lucas that said whatever this was, they weren’t talking it out here. The Kensington CEO moved his shrewd dark gaze to Ben. “Are you ready? We’ve got about fifteen minutes to get there. And Marcie?”
She looked up then, her expression still wary.
“You’re right. You probably can drink Lucas under the table in tequila shots. He’s always been a lightweight.”
She dimpled, though she stole a glance at Ben. He’d picked up his laptop case, was acting as he always acted now, and he saw her register it, her shoulders ease, though there was still a cautious set to them. He’d taken her off balance with that one, but she’d responded to him on instinct, responded to him as her Master, over and above the other two Doms present. He didn’t know if that made things better or worse. Probably worse, because now he also had to deal with those two Doms. Particularly one of them, who looked as if he was deciding whether they needed to head for their meeting or make a brief stop in an alley to leave Ben’s bleeding and broken body there.
“I need a few minutes to give my assistant direction for the day,” he said casually, meeting Lucas’ level stare. “Why don’t I meet you in the car?”
Matt nodded. “Five minutes.”
Ben made a gesture of assent as Lucas gave him a Get the hell downstairs so we can talk this out look, then followed.
Once they were gone, Ben came out to her area, braced his knuckles on her desk. Marcie’s cheeks were still stained that attractive red. He wondered if her ass would be the same color after he went after it. Leaning down, he watched her press her lips together as he got close to her mouth, stopped short to meet her gaze close up. “That vibrator better stay in the nightstand unless I tell you that you can use it. I want you hot, wet and suffering.”
“Are you going to take me to a club?” He saw that little flash of defiance, the high set of her chin. He had just the thing for that. A five-inch-width collar that locked into place under the jaw, making her hold it at that defiant angle until her neck ached and she remembered better manners. Alternatively, Peter had shown him an intriguing rope bondage design—the “haughty pose”—where the slave could be tied in a way that forced her to hold her head up until she was begging to bow it down in a deferential manner. Choices, choices.
Jesus, he needed to stop thinking about this stuff, or he’d have a lot more to explain to Lucas as he hobbled to the car with his briefcase and massive erection.
“Taking you to a club is my decision. I’ll let you know when I make it.”
“Remember what I said,” she returned, giving him a glare. “If you’re not willing to be my Master, you don’t get to say what I put in my pus—”
“Whether I take you to a club has a lot to do with whether I think you
Similar Books
