Her lips curved, completely unrepentant. He had the urge to grin at her like a feral wolf. Jesus, he was losing his mind. He was mentoring her. That was what this was. He’d told her as much yesterday. Or rather, he’d told her he’d think about it. He’d also told her to cut this shit out in the office. It wasn’t like him to send mixed signals, and with an already difficult, headstrong sub, that was a recipe for trouble. Of course, with the heat boiling in his balls, he was working his way up to craving some serious trouble.
“Mr. Kensington, Mr. Adler.” Composed now, at least on the surface, she smiled as Matt and Lucas came into Ben’s area, ready to head offsite with him.
Yeah, just as soon as I get rid of this raging hard-on.
Lucas gave her a snort, a lifted brow. “Mr. Adler?”
“We’re in a professional office environment.” Marcie gave him a cheeky grin. “I have to behave. Ben says so.”
“Well, there’s a first for everything.” Lucas looked toward Ben. “It must be a trick. I’ve never known you to be a good influence on anyone. Especially an impressionable young girl.”
Was he really that bad? He bit back a scowl at the second reference to his dark reputation in less than a day. Jesus, you’d think he raided convents.
“Woman,” Marcie said, an edge to her voice. When Lucas glanced back at her, she held onto that polite mask, but her next words were a direct, kick-in-the-balls contrast. “C-cup, vibrator in my nightstand drawer, and I can drink you under the table in tequila shots.”
Okay, so maybe that one was his fault. He’d revved her up not only with the sugar thing, but with what had happened yesterday. Though the look on Lucas’ face was worth money, another instinct took precedence 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 can follow direction, obey a Master as you should, or if you’re just a spoiled brat who thinks you can keep running things. No Master wants a slave like that. I won’t be your Master, but I will be your mentor. If you show me you can behave. Those are my terms. No revisions, no loopholes, no games. If you can’t handle that, collect your stuff, take your fuck-me-now slut attitude, and get out of this office.”
She didn’t flush this time. The color drained out of her face, her cheeks paling. He’d startled her, hurt her. He’d intended it. His gut told him that was the way to go, except he wasn’t sure if his intent was to drive her away, crush her spirit or test her mettle. He wouldn’t question himself in front of her though. He held her gaze, waiting to see the outcome, even while that gut twisted, telling him he was a complete and total bastard.
No newsflash there.
She wasn’t at all sure of this Ben, this cruel side. But one thing she did know. He’d spoken to her like a Master in front of Lucas and Matt. No, she hadn’t had much experience, but every time he exercised this side of himself, it resonated somewhere in her, in shadowed corners that were waiting for the right touch, the right motivation, to rouse that natural response in her.
Earlier, she’d known to counter his will with defiance. However, this was a true chastisement. She’d pushed things too far, showing her ass in front of Lucas and Matt and now him.
“I’m sorry, Master.” She lowered her gaze to the desk, feeling the strange need to push back tears. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”
“Call me sir. I’m not your Master.” But there was a pause there, making her wonder if that was what he really wanted to say. “Go into my office, to my desk. Pull your skirt up over that bare ass, spread your legs. Bend over, your nose and hands an inch above the wood. Do it quick. I only have five minutes and I don’t want to be late to this meeting.”
He was brusque, glancing at his watch. She moved on jerky legs, but she hurried into the office, did as he said. It took some effort to get her skirt up to her waist, but it sort of underscored his point about its tightness, didn’t it? Bending down, nose to desk. Holding it that way required some precision, a little stress on the muscles. The air from the air conditioning vent in the ceiling put gooseflesh on the small of her back, her buttocks. She had brought panties. She just hadn’t worn them. They were tucked in the top desk drawer.
The door closed, the locks clicked into place. The tendons of her calves quivered, making her heels wobble. Because of the shoes’ height and her position, her ass was tilted up, exposing everything between her legs. As she imagined what he was seeing, the spiral of anxiety and arousal in her lower belly grew tighter.
“Close your eyes and open your mouth.”
She did. What felt like a rubber ball was wedged past her teeth. He cupped her skull to hold her steady, allowing him to push it in that space, because it was so large it pressed down on her tongue, held it fast, held her mouth open. He hadn’t used a cloth behind it, so saliva immediately began to pool around the ball. She would be drooling on his desk, nothing to stop the embarrassment of that, unless she disobeyed him and tried to wipe it away.
When her fingers flexed, uncertain, his hands covered them, curled them into closed fists, hovering just above the desk surface. Her stomach muscles were tight, holding herself in the position, and it wouldn’t take long for them to start to ache. Ben would have made a hell of a teacher in an old-fashioned one-room school. She’d misbehave every day for his punishment.
“You don’t make any contact with my desk. Keep your nose and hands where they are. As I do each stroke, you count it off with your fingers. It’ll be ten.”
She was breathing hard against that ball. Her fists trembled in their suspended position. A trickle of response slid down her thigh.
“Little slut,” he muttered. She reveled in hearing that hoarseness in his voice. That impressive cock was baseball-bat hard, she was sure of it. If only he’d let her go down on her knees, suck him off. She could make him come in five minutes. It would make her impossibly hot, knowing he was at his meeting with Matt and Lucas, her lipstick marking his cock. She’d savor the taste of him in her mouth for hours, the abrasion at the corners she was sure his thick size would cause.