Sylvie was stripping off her clothes when she heard loud footsteps in the hallway. The penthouse was empty when she’d arrived home; at least she thought it was. The household staff went home early on the weekends. They were usually gone before 7. There was no reason for anyone to be here now. It had to be someone from security. She remembered locking the front door and activating the alarm when she came in. They were the only ones with keys and the code number working this time of night. Still, if they were going to come into the apartment, they ought to give her fair warning, a heads-up, so she could at least have clothes on. Could she have left something in the limo? No. All she had was her purse and that was sitting on the dresser. Whatever they wanted, they better make it quick. Sylvie wasn’t dressed to receive guests; she was half-naked. Hearing the footsteps coming closer, she rushed to shut her bedroom door. Sylvie pushed it hard, but it wouldn’t close. Shit! Something or someone was on the other side. She shoved it hard, using her shoulder and back. But it wouldn’t budge.
‘Yannick? O’Brien? Solowicz? Fanucci?’ she called out, trying to remember the names of the guards who worked the night shift. ‘Whoever you are? I didn’t call security. Please leave! I’m not dressed.’ No one answered. She was getting a bad feeling about this.
The security staff was never in the apartment unless someone called them or they were doing their thrice-daily rounds, checking to make sure that the alarms, panic buttons, and other equipment were working properly. They never came into the apartment unannounced and they always made their presence known as they moved from room to room so as not to startle or alarm anyone. They normally came through at 7 AM, 3 PM, and 11 PM. So who was on the other side of the door now? Sylvie looked around for her cell phone. It was on the bed, a good 20 feet away from her. She needed to call the security desk downstairs and find out what was going on, but if she moved away from the door the person on the other side would be able to come right in. She didn’t have a panic button in her room; the closest one was in Connor’s. And the safe room was at the other end of the apartment. Fat lot of good all these sophisticated, fancy-assed security devises were doing her! She tried to calm down. This place was a fortress. No one could get past the alarms and the guards and make it up to the penthouse. Not without being intercepted and getting the crap kicked out of them or possibly even shot. Every single guard packed a weapon and, she assumed, knew how to use it. So who the hell was this? Were the guards pranking her? If so this wasn’t funny. Sylvie threw herself against the door again with all her might; hoping to be able close and lock it, then grab her phone and dial for help. But someone stronger than her was pushing back.
‘I’m calling security!’ she yelled, hoping that would scare whoever it was away. It didn’t. She was beginning to panic. Sylvie looked around for something within arm’s reach she could use as a weapon. Nothing! Damn it! Her bedroom, like everything else in this frigging place, was huge. The furniture, though elegant, was sparse. There wasn’t a lamp, table, or chair close enough to grab. What’s with rich people? They never heard of cozy? Now what was she going to do?
‘Step away from the door!’ she shouted, mimicking the authoritative tone of her favorite cops on TV. ‘I have a gun. Get away or I’ll shoot!’ she threatened, hoping he believed her.
Suddenly the door gave way and Sylvie went flying. She spun around to see an angry-looking Connor standing over her.
‘What the hell Connor! Why didn’t you say something? Tell me it was you! You scared the crap out of me!’ He didn’t respond. ‘Were you purposely trying to frighten me? That’s a rotten thing to do! Even for you!’
He ignored her questions and launched right into a tirade. ‘A gun? Are you crazy or just stupid? If a criminal has a gun and thinks you have one too, he’s going to shoot first and ask questions later. If I’d been an intruder, you’d be dead now!’
Was he serious? He was going to bust her balls over a non-existent gun?
‘You don’t have a gun and I’ll wager you wouldn’t know how to fire it if you did! Your lying could have gotten you killed! But I guess being a double-dealing, two-faced liar has become second nature to you now. Or at least so it would seem from your recent behavior!’
Sylvie gaped at him. Did he really just say that to her? ‘Wow. This is a record. You just got here and already you’re giving me a frigging lecture? No hello? How are you? Glad to see you Sylvie?’ She gave him a withering stare. ‘Connor, it was nice of you to drop by, but you can leave now!’ And don’t let the door hit you in the ass! ‘Actually, I’m surprised you came by tonight. I know how hard you try to avoid coming here. I wasn’t expecting you. I figured you’d be spending the night banging Seanna. I couldn’t help but notice she spent the entire evening fondling you. As your friend,’ Sylvie smirked, ‘I feel it’s incumbent on me to tell you that such PDAs, public displays of affection, are considered not only vulgar, but tacky and tasteless as well! Considering the amount of rubbing and groping going on, I’m surprised you didn’t pop a chubby and embarrass yourself. All that stroking and petting you guys engaged in was downright nauseating. I almost puked! Next time…get a damn room!’ she derided him. ‘Oh, and in case you brought her home with you, be advised… I don’t do threesomes! You’ll need to find someone else. I’m tired. And for the record, I resent being called two-faced. I’ve never lied to you! Though I’m sure the same can’t be said for you! And just so you know, I’ve been around guns my whole life. I’m a crack shot. If I’d had a gun tonight…your sorry ass would be dead right now!’
‘Are you finished?’ he snapped. ‘You can stow the foul language and the sarcasm, and the insolent, pissy attitude. We need to talk.’
‘Oh, now you want to talk? You didn’t say two words to me all evening. You missed your chance pal! I’m going to bed!’
‘The hell you are! You and I are going to have a long talk.’
‘About what?’ she shouted at him. ‘We have nothing to talk about!’ She was tiring of his high-handed manner.
‘Nothing to talk about?’ he asked incredulously, his voice rising. ‘Really? How about we have a discussion about the fact that you’re an underhanded sneak, a snoop, and a goddamn thief! You may look sweet and innocent, but in reality you’re a devious, dishonest bitch!’
Sylvie paled. Is that what he really thought of her?
‘I can’t believe you had the audacity to search through my things. My private property!’ he thundered. ‘You intruded into areas you had no right being! Then compounded your crime by taking things that weren’t yours to take. They were mine! My possessions! My memories! How dare you pry into my life! You not only violated my privacy; you betrayed my trust! I thought I could trust you Sylvie, but obviously I was mistaken. Never in my wildest dreams would I think you capable of doing something so despicable, so underhanded. Going behind my back to do what? Hurt me? Expose me? What exactly did you hope to achieve? I thought I knew you; but I don’t know you at all…do I? Tell me Sylvie, did you find what you were looking for? Evidence of my twisted desires, my sexual deviance? And now that you have proof of my past misdeeds, what is it you intend to do with the information?’
‘Nothing!’ she looked at him horrified. Did he think her intention was to blackmail him? ‘I just…I just wanted to know.’
‘Know what?’ he yelled. ‘What did you have to know that could justify this kind of duplicity?
Sylvie’s bottom lip wobbled, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. ‘I just wanted to know you.’ She tried explaining. ‘I love you Connor, but I don’t even know who you are. I know nothing about you. You’re a stranger. I don’t know what you think, what you feel, what makes you happy or sad. I know nothing about your childhood, your family. Because you refuse to tell me. You shut me out.’
‘Let me get this straight. Your defense is that I drove you to do this? Because…why? Because I haven’t unburdened myself to you? Because you don’t know every secret thought I’ve ever had? Because I don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve like you do? That’s ludicrous! So what did you discover about me that you didn’t already know? That I’m a dom? You already knew that. I’ve never kept that a secret from you. I was open and honest about my desire to dominate and care for you. That I had parents? That goes without saying. Did you think I’d hatched from an egg? So what was gained by poking around in my life? Were you trying to give me cause to end this?’
‘No. Not at all,’ she whimpered, tears streaking her cheeks. ‘Please believe me, I didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. I’m sorry Connor. So very, very sorry. It’s just…I saw the pictures of you and those women on the web…’
‘You googled me?’ He wanted to make sure he’d heard her right. ‘This was the first time you’d ever done that?’ he asked skeptically.
Sylvie nodded.
Connor shook his head. She was more naïve than he thought. He’d always assumed she’d done her due diligence, researching all about him, before she agreed to work for him and certainly before she’d climbed into bed with him. Could she really be that clueless?
‘My family was here last weekend and told me they’d read about your other houses on the web. When they tried to pump me for information about the properties, I couldn’t answer. I had no idea you owned any other residences or where they were located. I was completely in the dark. They knew more about you than I did! Then they started asking questions. None of which I could answer! They were surprised that after months of working and living together I knew so little about you. I decided to change that. I wanted to find out everything I could about you.’ She brushed away the tears with her fingers and continued, her hands trembling. ‘I saw pictures of you with Marisol and Tara. You looked different than you do now. I’m used to the stiff, stern, reserved, remote Connor. But in the pictures you’re relaxed. Your eyes shine. Your smile is warm. You look happy. It bothered me that you were engaged to Marisol, were going to marry her; and yet there isn’t a single picture of her on display either here or in the log house. So I went looking for pictures of her. Then I saw the scrapbook your aunt made for you with pictures of your parents. I couldn’t understand why you’d hidden it away. Why the scrapbook and pictures weren’t out where you could see them every day. I carry pictures of my mom, Aunt Tizzy, and my grandmothers in my wallet. I look at them all the time. The memories bring me comfort. But you’re different. It’s almost like you’re trying to erase the past, forget the people that once meant something to you. You put them in a drawer and act like they never existed. After I found the pictures of your parents, I was sure you’d have pictures of Marisol buried away here too. So I kept searching until I found them. I had no idea the kind of pictures they’d be. I wish now I hadn’t found them. I can’t believe the things you did to her and the others.’ Her body shook as she tried to hold back the sobs.
‘You have a helluva nerve judging me. You’ve no idea what I think or feel about anything!’ he bellowed, furious at her and her accusations. ‘How I deal with my grief, my loss, is my business, not yours. You want to dwell on the past? Stare at pictures and wallow in sadness? Fine! You do that. But I, for one, see no point in it. The dead are dead. You can’t bring them back. You need to focus on getting on with your life. And that’s exactly what I’ve done! You may think I’m a cold, heartless bastard; but it works for me. I neither need nor require your approval. And for your information, I didn’t do anything to those women they didn’t want done. We were all consenting adults. They wanted to engage in that kind of sex play. It aroused them just as much as it aroused me. They liked it. Unlike you, some women actually enjoy being taken in hand and disciplined. They get off on the pain. They relish their subjugation. That’s something you seem wholly unable to fathom. Not everybody is as narrow-minded and prudish as you are!’
‘But you tied her up, gagged, and beat her. I saw the welts and the bruises. And then you took pictures of her like that.’
‘I’m assuming the ‘her’ you’re referring to is Marisol?’
‘How could you do that?’
Marisol was a willing participant. Beyond that, it’s none of your business. Whatever intimacies I shared with Marisol were between us.’
‘The pictures in the frames. They hung where people could see them didn’t they? She was OK with that?’ Sylvie asked in disbelief.
‘If you must know, they hung in the living room and bedroom of the apartment we shared overlooking Central Park on the upper West Side. She wasn’t the least bit ashamed of having posed for the pictures. She was very proud of them. Marisol wanted people to see and enjoy the portraits. She considered them works of art: the way the light and shadow played across the planes and curves of her body, how the dark, tightly coiled rope made designs on her skin. She thought them beautiful, a reflection of her soul. You can go to just about any gallery in the city and see similar, framed, photographic studies of bound, naked women. I didn’t hide them away because I was ashamed of them if that’s what you’re thinking.’
Sylvie stared at him, hesitant to ask the question. ‘She made you happy didn’t she?’
‘Yes. Very happy.’ He wasn’t going to lie about it.
‘Then why haven’t you ever talked about her, or even uttered her name? And why won’t you admit that you loved her?’
‘What I felt for Marisol doesn’t concern you! My feelings are my own. I have no intention of sharing them, least of all with you. The memories are painful, so I put them out of my mind. I choose not to dwell on Marisol or our time together. I’m not interested in the past, or in the future. I’m only concerned about today.’
‘If I died tomorrow, there wouldn’t be a picture of me hanging on your walls either. Would there? You’d erase me from your memory, just like you did her. We’re all expendable aren’t we Connor?’
‘You’ve become a nagging, jealous scold,’ he said angrily. ‘You’ve grown tedious with your constant carping. Why do you care what I’ve done with other women? The fact that I’ve bound and gagged them, hung them from ceilings, tied them to crosses, clamped them, whipped them, plugged them and photographed them bare-assed has nothing…nada, zero, zilch to do with you. Have I ever done any of those things to you?’ he demanded.
‘No. But you want to don’t you? You’d like to humiliate and demean me just the way you did them.’
‘That’s neither here nor there. I have never and would never force you to do something you don’t want to do.’
‘I don’t want you to spank me Connor!’ she countered, challenging him. ‘Yet you do! All the time!’
‘There are rules in our relationship. Rules you agreed to follow! I told you from the very beginning what my intentions were. How I intended this relationship to work. What I expected from you. You were told that if you violated the rules, or misbehaved in any way, you’d suffer consequences. Consequences that would take the form of corporal punishment. That’s the arrangement. Every time I’ve taken you in hand and blistered your behind, you’ve deserved it. Just like you deserve the punishment you’re going to receive now!’
‘No! I’m not a child. I’m not going to let you treat me like one.’
‘No you’re not a child, but you constantly behave like one. A spoiled, willful, sneaky brat. And I won’t have it!’
‘I’m not going to let you punish me Connor. I’m not going to enable you!’
‘Enable me? That’s rich! Are you serious?’ he derided her. ‘When I paddle your ass, correct you for your misdeeds and misbehavior, it’s an act of atonement…rehabilitation. You’re being taught a much-needed lesson. But it’s not enabling me. Enabling me how? To do what?’
‘It enables your sickness! This need you have to inflict pain on others; to torture, degrade, and debase them.’
‘For your information I don’t torture people. Definitely not you! What minor pain I’ve inflicted on your ass is done to maintain order, reinforce the rules, and to strengthen our relationship. I’m not hurting or harming you in any way! With many of the other women I’ve known, the pain was merely a prelude to pleasure, to ecstasy. But you’re so puritanical. Honestly Sylvie, sometimes I think you were raised in a convent, sheltered away from the world. The practice of dominance and submission is not a sickness or an aberration. It’s found in every culture and country in the world. It leads to greater intimacy and sexual fulfillment.’
Not for her it didn’t! ‘Have you always been this way?’ she asked, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer.
‘Ever since I can remember.’
‘The women in the pictures, they all agreed to this? Seanna, Deidre, and the others?’
‘I don’t kiss and tell! What I’ve done with other women in the privacy of my bedroom has absolutely nothing to do with you. But if you’re asking if I can be in a relationship with a woman who doesn’t accept my dominance and all it entails, the answer is no. It’s who I am! You can either accept it or reject it, Sylvie. It’s your choice. I’m not going to change!’
Sylvie didn’t respond. She sat down on the bed, put her head in her hands, and sniffled as tears poured from her eyes.
‘I care for you Sylvie. Maybe not in the way you want me to, but I do care. I have no intention of hurting or mistreating you. All I’m trying to do is protect and keep you safe. Don’t concern yourself with what I’ve done or haven’t done with other women in the past. As long as we’re together, I’m faithful to you. You make me happy Sylvie, happier than I’ve been in years; but I can only go so far. You need to trust me Sylvie. But your behavior Sunday proves to me you don’t.’
‘I’m sorry Connor. I’m truly sorry. I want to be with you. I do. It’s just…it’s just that everything is so confusing. All of it. I don’t know if I can be what you want.’
‘You are what I want,’ he assured her, pausing to make sure his words sunk in. ‘Where are the pictures Sylvie?’ His anger at her had dissipated.
‘I put them back,’ she whispered, shame and contrition in her words. ‘I only looked at them that night. I swear.’
‘After tonight, we’ll never discuss this matter again. First thing tomorrow morning I’m having a lock and an alarm put on the door to that storage space. I’ll have the only key. And the photo album…that will be kept in a locked drawer from now on too. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good! Now before you fetch me the hairbrush…’
‘No!’ she protested. ‘You can’t spank me with that. It’s hers. I saw the picture. Marisol gave it to you!’
‘Yes, you’re right; it was a gift from her. But it’s mine and I will use it however, wherever, and whenever I see fit. It’s proved to be an effective tool in getting defiant brats and sassy, impudent hellions to see the error of their ways. As I’m sure you’re well aware, since I’ve paddled you with it enough times! There is a definite correlation between bad behavior and a sore ass. Unfortunately, you, Sylvie, have been unable to grasp the connection between the two. Much to your detriment, I might add. Not to worry, though. I intend to drive that fact home shortly. But before we get to that, I want to discuss this evening. Specifically…what did Jameson want with you? He was hovering around you all night. I saw the two of you exchanging cards. What was that about? And I’d like the truth please. No obfuscation. Did he ask you out?’
Sylvie hesitated. ‘Sort of,’ she said uncertainly.
‘Sort of? What does that mean exactly? He either asked you out or he didn’t.’
‘He asked me out to dinner, but it wasn’t like romantic or anything. It was business.’
‘And just what kind of business can he possibly have with you?’ Connor asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
‘Publishing business. He wants me to work for him.’
Connor looked ready to explode. ‘He was trying to poach my editor while a guest at my party? Why, the nerve of that sleazy prick!’
‘His company is coming out with a new erotic romance imprint and he needs freelance editors. He wants me to edit some of the books.’
‘Well, I hope you told him no!’
‘I told him I was busy working on your books and couldn’t take on any other projects right now.’
‘Right now? Try never!’ he sputtered. ‘That sneaky son of a bitch. What a weasel!’ Connor ranted. ‘I saw him kissing you good bye. Open-mouth on the lips no less! I wanted to rip his fucking tongue out! I was coming over to throw his ass out when I saw you push him away. I figured you were handling it, so I didn’t have to.’ He paused. Then narrowed his eyes. ‘Don’t I pay you enough? Are you that hard up for money that you’d actually consider working for that dirtbag?’
‘It’s just a couple of hours a week,’ Sylvie tried to explain.
‘Listen to me Sylvie, that bastard’s got more than giving you a job on his mind. You stay away from him. Do you hear me?’
‘I don’t understand, I thought you two were friends. Old school chums.’
‘Us? We’re not friends. We’re competitors. Have been since high school. Back then we vied for dates with girls from Brearley, Spence, and Chapin; competed for spots on the school’s varsity basketball, track, and lacrosse teams; or a position in student government. Now we get into bidding wars, battling over who gets to publish a particular new book; and routinely try to lure bestselling authors away from one another. We constantly try to sabotage each other’s efforts to gain market share, fighting over shelf space in book stores, spots on talk shows, and even stealing away talented staff like you. You’re just the opening salvo in the latest round. I mean it Sylvie! Steer clear of him! You’re a good editor, but the real purpose of this exercise is to stick it to me.’
She nodded. Drake had told her Jameson envied Connor and wanted whatever he had. Could that really mean her? It was flattering in a way, but creepy too. She’d never had two men fighting over her before and didn’t want to start now. The last thing she needed was to be caught in the middle of their feud. Still, she wasn’t going to write Jameson off just yet. She might need a job down the road. He’d asked her if she wanted to be one of his editors, not his bedmate as Drake and Connor were implying. For now, she’d give him the benefit of the doubt.
‘And what’s with you and Drake? He may be my best friend, but I don’t believe in sharing with him…especially not you! He was awfully friendly tonight. Too friendly! I don’t like him taking liberties with you. He’s doing it to piss me off and see how I’ll react. Don’t encourage him!’
‘I wasn’t encouraging him. He kissed me!’ she defended herself.
‘Wait! What? He kissed you? You let him?’
‘Drake didn’t ask me. He just did it! I had no say in the matter.’
‘Mullins and Kazlo said you went to a bar with a number of people from the party. Was Drake one of them?’
‘Who are Mullins and Kazlo?’ She looked at him puzzled.
‘They’re two of your bodyguards.’
‘Oh!‘ Sylvie thought only celebrities, heads of state, and politicians had bodyguards. ‘I don’t think I’ve met them yet. I don’t recognize their names.’
‘You haven’t.’
‘I didn’t notice them tonight,’ she said, looking skeptical. Was he pulling her chain?
‘That’s because you’re not supposed to.’
‘Were they at the party?’
‘Yes.’
‘And at the bar too?’
‘They’re bodyguards! They go where you go!’ This wasn’t rocket science. She didn’t understand the concept? Or was she just playing dumb and stalling for time so she wouldn’t have to explain herself?
‘So they followed me?’ Sylvie didn’t like that they were tailing her.
‘Of course they followed you!’ he said, exasperated. ‘We’re getting off track here. Who did you go to the bar with?’ he asked angrily.
‘Drake, Victor, Alex, Nathan, Deidre, Caris, Bethany, and three other guys I didn’t know.’
‘Which other guys?’
‘I have no idea who they were. They were Alex’s friends. Why does it matter? We were just having a drink.’
‘It matters because I don’t want you hanging out in bars where men can paw and hit on you. And I especially don’t want you going to bars with the likes of Drake, Alex, and Nathan. I wouldn’t put anything past them. They think we broke up. They consider you fair game now and might take advantage. What am I saying? Given the opportunity, they will absolutely take advantage of you. Cute little farm girl, all alone in the big city. Wide-eyed and innocent as can be. You’re a plum ripe for the picking!’
‘Might I remind you that I lived in the city long before I ever came to work for you? I’m not as naïve as you think,’ she said indignantly.
‘Who are you kidding? You were a shy 25-year-old virgin when I met you. Remember? If that doesn’t qualify as innocent I don’t know what does. Look, I told you before, I don’t want you anywhere near Drake,’ he paused a moment ‘or Alex or Nathan for that matter. They’re all first-class dicks. They’ll try to seduce and inveigle you into bed. And trust me, they’re used to getting what they want. You’re like a babe in the woods to men like them. They’re used to shagging women who’ve been around the block a time or two. Hell, you’re as close to a virgin as they’ll ever get. You’re a hot commodity, a refreshing change of pace.’
She was appalled! How could he even think her capable of doing something like that… sleeping with one his best friends? YUCK! ‘I would never let…’
‘I didn’t say you would,’ he reassured her. ‘But I know those guys and I wouldn’t put it past them to try to put the make on you. Get you drunk…in a compromising position. It’s what they do.’
‘I can take care of myself!’ she objected.
‘No! I don’t think you can! That’s why I’m around. To protect you from wolves. The two-legged kind!’
‘So what? So now if they ask me to go for a drink after one of your events, I’m not allowed to go? Do you know how ridiculous, how paranoid, that sounds? You just told me I have two bodyguards shadowing me every place I go. I think they can handle your rich boy buddies if they get out of line. Assuming I can’t! Honestly Connor…me hooking up with your friends? Seriously? Give me credit for having better taste. I’m not that desperate! I’ll never be that desperate!’
‘I’ll be sure to tell them that. If anything though, your reticence will make you even more attractive. You’re probably the only woman in New York, outside a convent, who wouldn’t want to. You’re a challenge. You’re not cowed by wealth. Or attracted by it either. That’s a first for them I’m sure. Women generally fall to their knees awestruck, fawning over them. But, from what I’ve observed, you treat my friends with a certain degree of disdain. You act as thought you wouldn’t give them the time of day. More to the point, you’d like nothing better than to bust their balls and knock them down a peg or two. Put them in their place. That makes you unique: a woman who’s unimpressed by their stature and position and actually refuses them. To men like that you’re a prize worth attaining. They’d like nothing better than to tame your feisty ass.’ He could tell from the puzzled look on her face that she had no idea how the male psyche operated. ‘The more you push a man away, the more you deny him what he wants, the deeper his desire grows, and the stronger his need becomes. It’s the thrill of the chase.’ Sylvie didn’t seem to understand that. Christ! She had four older brothers. Didn’t they teach her anything?
‘A man like you?’
‘Exactly. And speaking of your feisty ass, you’re about to learn what happens to little girls who snoop, steal, and stick their nose where it doesn’t belong. Bring me the hairbrush.’ He could see from her face: the clenched teeth, pouting lower lip, eyes scrunched in a scowl; that she wasn’t going to make this easy. Everything with Sylvie was a battle of wills. He eyed her grimly. ‘Don’t challenge me Sylvie,’ he warned. ‘Any defiance on your part and the punishment will be doubled. Now get me the hairbrush. Don’t make me tell you again!’ Connor’s voice was raspy and threatening, almost seductive when he issued the command. He was stern, but he didn’t bark the order at her.
Her butt cheeks clenched in reaction. She wanted to tell him no, tell him to take the hairbrush and shove it where the sun don’t shine. But she was in enough trouble already. She wondered what would happen if she just told him no. Would he back off? Probably not. That wasn’t an option, considering he was a foot taller than she was and outweighed her by nearly 100 pounds. She could stand her ground, but that was only going to make things worse. If she had any hope of her ass surviving this, she’d better cooperate. She didn’t have any other options, short of banging him over the head with a lamp and running like hell. Resigned to her fate, she walked to her dresser, opened the bottom drawer, and retrieved the brush from the place she’d hidden it. She should have burned the damn thing. But that would’ve just pissed him off. He would’ve found something bigger, harder, and more painful to batter her poor butt with. She shuffled her feet, slowly making her way to where Connor had seated himself on the bed. She felt like a prisoner walking the last few torturous steps to the execution chamber. She lifted the brush and meekly handed it to him. The only way to minimize the damage to her derriere and stop the worst-case scenario from happening was to comply.
He took the brush, grabbed her by the hand, and unceremoniously pulled her across his lap. A second later he yanked down her panties, exposing her vulnerable backside. He was about to teach her a lesson she would never forget. Without delay, the brush began its relentless attack on her cringing butt.
The first strokes unleashed a firestorm that set her backside ablaze. Her bottom lip began to quiver uncontrollably as tears poured down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry!’ she sobbed. ‘I’m sorry!’
But Connor didn’t appear to be listening. Determined to insure her complete and heartfelt contrition, he gave her six hard whacks on each cheek till her flesh visibly prickled and turned a glowing shade of pink. By the time he was done imparting this particular lesson, he intended for Sylvie’s behind to be candy-apple red and for her to be abjectly repentant and remorseful. He continued his corrective measures, establishing a staccato rhythm of thwacks and whacks that had her screeching so loud he was sure she’d wake the dead in Hoboken.
‘Please! Please! I won’t do it again!’ she begged, blubbering. The last vestiges of her pride washed away with her tears. It felt like a blowtorch was scorching her ass, searing off every layer of skin. ‘Ow! Oww! It hurts! It hurts!‘
‘You’re damn right you won’t do it again.’ To emphasize his words, he loosed a volley of another dozen spanks, dividing them equally between the cheeks of her already scalded bottom. He had no intention of holding back and making this easy for her. He was spanking her hard. ‘You are being punished for your transgressions.’ Whack! Whack! Whack! ‘For snooping and spying on me. Smack! Smack! Smack! ‘For breaching my privacy.’ Whack! Whack! Whack! ‘For violating my trust.’ Smack! Smack! Thwack! ‘It’s supposed to hurt!’
‘Connor stop! Stop! I’m sorry! Please stop! It hurts! It hurts!’ She was bucking like an angry bronco, trying to break free of his hold.
‘Your punishment is over when I say it’s over Sylvie. Not until!‘ Whack! Whack! ‘You brought this on yourself Sylvie. And I intend to see that you’re properly paddled, whether you like it or not.’ Whack! Whack!
Sylvie was out of her mind with pain. Her senses overwhelmed with the burning, stinging, throbbing, and aching emanating from her swollen, well-spanked bottom. She couldn’t speak; words were beyond her. Sylvie could do little more than moan and sob. Her face contorted in a grimace of agony with every stinging stroke he administered.
He’d been too easy on her in the past. Correction was meant to not only be painful, but humiliating and degrading as well. Sylvie was getting a full dose of it this time. There was nothing like a thorough over-the-knee paddling and a sore bare bottom, and being treated like a naughty little girl, to make an errant miss see the error of her ways. Sylvie, regrettably, was as stubborn and willful as they come. He couldn’t just tell her not to do something. That was like waving something red in front of a charging bull. When she got an idea in her head, she did it, regardless of the consequences.
He was irked by what she’d done; she was too inquisitive for her own damn good. But that wasn’t what was bothering him. He was worried that once she started snooping, she wouldn’t stop. Sylvie was a consummate researcher. She knew how to track down information. Follow threads. Run down leads. And dig out the facts. He was terrified that once she finished looking into his personal life, she’d expand her search and shift her attention to the murders. If she hadn’t started already! Sylvie said she’d seen pictures of Tara and Marisol on the web. He would bet money that she’d searched out Ariel, Callie, and his parents too. He kept thinking about Ernestine Shaw, the reporter who’d looked into the murders and wound up dead. He didn’t want the same thing to happen to Sylvie. He had to nip this in the bud, before she stumbled on something that could prove fatal. Connor spent sleepless nights worrying about Sylvie, fearing that knowing him had made her the target of a madman. His hand stayed as he looked down at her bruised and battered bottom. She was lying quiet in his lap. Sniffling, and whimpering pitifully. Her body shuddering from the ordeal. Sylvie was no longer trying to escape the lesson. She’d finally surrendered, accepting her punishment and his authority. Sylvie was unlike any other woman he’d ever cared for. She had difficulty accepting his dominance. Submission didn’t come easily to her; not like it did Marisol, Tara, and the others. Sylvie struggled with it. Head-strong and defiant, Connor had to drag Sylvie, kicking and screaming, to the point where she’d let go her pride and cede control to him. That made her all the more precious. She was at her most beautiful when she was docile and amenable. His obedient, obliging angel. Her mind might hate his dominance, but her body craved it. He could see the moisture glistening between her thighs. His hand descended to her sore rump. Not to cruelly punish it, but to gently stroke it. His fingers lovingly caressed her bottom. The skin was hot.
Sylvie recoiled from his touch. She clenched her battered cheeks, all the while wincing in pain. She held her breath, afraid to move, dreading the next blow. But it never came.
‘It’s over Sylvie,’ he told her, gliding a soothing hand across her stinging bottom. ‘I think you’ve learned your lesson. Don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she sniffled, trying to get the word out.
‘Manners Sylvie! I expect you to always be respectful during and after a punishment,’ he reminded.
‘Yes sir,’ she squeaked, not wanting to subject her bottom to anymore correction.
‘That’s better. I can’t imagine you’ll want to do anymore snooping after this…will you?’ he said almost gently.
‘No sir.’ Her body shook with each breath. The pain was almost unbearable. It felt as though she’d sat on an army of fire ants and they were stinging and eating her alive, starting with her ass.
‘Very well then, you’re forgiven,’ he said, helping her to her feet and then sitting her on his lap. She yelped as her tender bottom came in contact with his hard-muscled thighs. Connor’s arms enfolded her and she started sobbing uncontrollably.
‘I’m sorry,’ she bawled, resting her cheek against his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears.
‘I know you are baby,’ he said, affectionately kissing the top of her head. Sylvie drove him nuts. She antagonized and infuriated him, sassed and defied him; but when he was holding her this way… He didn’t know how to explain it. There was something about her. Something so special and endearing. Maybe it was the way this little bit of a thing fit so perfectly in his arms, that he wanted her to stay there forever. Somehow this little imp had wormed her way into his affections, gotten into his head. And try as he might, he couldn’t get her out. The thought of losing her terrified him, made him break out in a cold sweat. He had to keep her safe. He had to!
Sylvie clung to him, her body still trembling.
Connor gently rubbed her back. She was tense, her muscles tight and knotted, the result of the thrashing no doubt. This was probably the worst punishment she’d ever had. He’d given her at least three dozen strokes, maybe more. Her bottom was a sight! Oval red and purple bruises were popping up all over her fanny. Once again, he worried that he might have been too harsh with her. By the look of it, she’d be feeling this particular paddling for several days. Images of Marisol came unbidden into his mind. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way when he disciplined her. He never had regrets after whipping Marisol. The paddling he’d given Sylvie was nothing by comparison. So why did he always second-guess himself with her? He had to lay down the law. It was for her own good… now more than ever! He was a dom, but he certainly hadn’t been acting like one lately. Connor had always required his partners to be respectful, obedient, and submissive. To follow his rules. Sylvie, however, thought she knew better and refused to comply with his wishes. It was his job to make sure she obeyed and to mete out punishment if she didn’t. With Marisol and the others he never really had reason to punish them, not like he did Sylvie. They followed his rules to the letter. When he whipped and paddled them, which he did on an almost daily basis, every time they were together, it was strictly for pleasure, both theirs and his. He’d enjoyed punishing them. Maybe because he knew how much it aroused them. The more welts he raised, the more bruises he inflicted on their willing backsides, the hotter they got. And the more they craved his dominance and his cock. The resultant sex was always explosive, mind-blowing. With Sylvie, her spankings were retribution for serious offenses, because she did something wrong. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t relish the act of punishing her. Most times he did it because he felt he had to, had no other choice; not because he wanted to. He knew Sylvie needed a firm hand. But it wasn’t a sexual turn-on for him; not the way it was with Marisol. He didn’t like causing her pain or making her cry. It tore him up inside. Connor shook his head in disgust. What the fuck was going on with him? He was behaving more like Sylvie’s daddy than her dom!
His fingers glided slowly up and down her back, finally coming to rest on the nape of her neck. He gently kneaded the muscles of her shoulders and back. When he felt her beginning to relax, he moved to unhook her bra. She didn’t protest as he slipped the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, tossing it to the floor. He loved her body, loved seeing her naked. But Connor couldn’t help feel a twinge of worry. She was way too thin. It was unhealthy. But how could he make sure she was eating properly when he was 300 miles away?
Connor cupped her chin with his hand and tilted her head up to look at him. Sylvie’s eyes were still wet with tears. He brought his lips down on hers in a sweet, soulful kiss. His thumb tugged at her chin until her mouth opened. Then his tongue gently invaded. She dissolved in his arms. The kiss became more intense as he pressed his tongue deeper and deeper into the warm recesses of her mouth. Their tongues danced and dueled, till they were almost out of breath. Connor could feel his passion rising. He was hard as a spike. He couldn’t help himself; Sylvie always had that effect on him. Ever since the first day they met. His hand moved to her breast, capturing the rosy nipple. He pulled and prodded it with his fingers until it pebbled under his ministrations.
She moaned as he kept up the assault, kneading and caressing the fleshy mounds, tugging and twisting the hard little peaks.
He felt like he’d been wandering in a barren, lonely desert, thirsting for her these last two weeks. She was a wellspring: one taste of her sweet lips or the feel of her skin against his would assuage his need. Now that he had her, he intended to drink his fill.
Connor lifted her in his arms and set her down on the bed. His eyes drank her in. The beautiful blue eyes. Silken brown hair, fanning out over the pillow. The pink blush of her cheeks. The soft creamy skin. Her firm little breasts. Flat belly. And her bare, hairless mound. He couldn’t help smiling. Sylvie hated being shorn down there. Detested getting the Brazilian bikini wax he preferred. Sylvie complained it was akin to torture. But she’d done it anyway… for him. He intended to feast on that warm beautiful body, every delectable inch.
He tore off his jacket, tie, and shirt, then bent to brush her lips with his. Her eyes eagerly watched him. Sylvie wanted this as much as he did, sore ass and all. Connor kicked off his shoes, undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and dropped them to the floor. He kicked them away, then peeled off his socks.
Sylvie’s eyes glittered with desire as she stared at the outline of the fleshy sword concealed within his boxers. She licked her lips in anticipation of what was to come. Connor smiled as he pushed them down past his hips, releasing his manhood from its confinement. Her eyes widened in delight. The boxers pooled at his ankles. He quickly stepped out of them and pounced on her. A second later he was devouring her breasts.
His rhythmic suckling elicited squeals of pleasure from Sylvie. His touch was intoxicating. Her back arched, breasts straining forward demanding more. His tongue swirled over and around the little pink bud. Sylvie’s chest was heaving as he alternated between breasts. Nipping them gently with his teeth, then twisting, tugging, and pinching them until she thought she’d go out of her mind. When she thought she could take no more, his attention turned to her thighs. He smothered them with kisses, gently pushing her legs apart with his hands. He put his nose at the apex of her thighs and sniffed. ‘You smell delicious,’ he told her. His fingers pried apart her lips. She glistened with nectar. ‘Oh my sweet baby. I love it when you’re wet and ready for me.’
His long slippery tongue invaded her core. It moved in and out, slowly at first, then faster and faster in a frenzied rhythm that caused her entire body to tremble. She could feel herself moving closer and closer to the edge…then he stopped. She whimpered in protest, but he had a new focus for his attention…her throbbing clit. His tongue flicked it back and forth then swirled around it making her dizzy with delight. She could feel the stubble of his beard abrading her inner lips and thighs. It rasped against her tender flesh, but if anything, it increased her arousal. Her clit hardened as it became engorged. She gasped when his lips latched onto the hypersensitive little knot and began to suck it voraciously. He slipped two fingers inside her dripping passage, working them in and out in a furious tempo. Sylvie was panting and groaning. Like a tidal wave surging inside her, she could feel the orgasm building. It lifted her, higher and higher, until it finally came crashing down, engulfing her, drowning her in pleasure. Her body shuddered and twitched. Connor loved it when she came so hard she lost all control. Her eyes were closed as the orgasm pulsed through her. He continued suckling, determined to wrench every last bit of pleasure from her.
Connor kissed his way up her body. His lips brushed and sucked her mound, leaving a small purplish mark, branding her. Satisfied, he licked his way up to her belly button.
It tickled and Sylvie squirmed. The movement causing her to wince in pain as it reignited the fire on her backside.
Connor kissed the hollow between her breasts. Then gave each peak a gentle suck. Finally finding his way to her soft plump lips.
Sylvie opened her eyes. She could taste herself on his lips. There was something so right, so intimate about this moment. She wished she could stop time and stay here forever. Her fingers stroked the rippling muscles of his shoulders, sides, and back as his body undulated on top of hers. Sylvie’s tongue slipped between the seam of his lips and explored his mouth. She kissed him hard, crushing his lips with hers. The kiss was hot and steamy, a portent of things to come. Connor’s chest heaved against her own. She could feel his manhood poking her. She reached back and grabbed his butt cheeks, squeezing and massaging them till he began to groan with need. Her fingers found their way to the crack between his cheeks then down to stroke his balls. His reaction was instantaneous; he stiffened and began to pry her legs further apart, splaying her open to receive him. Connor positioned himself between her legs, the head of his cock pressed against the opening of her passage. She screamed in pleasure as he pierced her, ramming his cock into her overheated sex, driving all the way into her depths. She felt stuffed, stretched; every bit of his manhood crammed inside her, filling her completely. He rocked into her with slow deliberate strokes at first. Then began pumping harder, drilling his cock deeper and deeper, claiming her. She fondled his sack as he continued to plunder and ravish her body. Connor hissed and groaned, then unleashing his seething passion, pounded into her to the hilt. He was close.
The room was spinning, colors swirling. Every inch of her tingled and throbbed. She was poised on a precipice, swaying and lurching. Sylvie cried out as she felt herself being swept over the edge and plunged into breathless euphoria. The world seemed to disappear as wave after wave of the most delicious sensations pulsated out from her core. The spasms were violent, causing her muscles to contract and squeeze his cock tightly.
He groaned and shuddered, his body tensing as a thundering orgasm took hold. It felt like electricity coursing through his veins. His body jolted by shock after pleasurable shock. Connor’s cock erupted, spurting hot cum inside her.
Sylvie’s body continued to twitch. Though her eyes were tightly closed, still in the throes of ecstasy, she could see sparkles of light dancing before her. A thousand stars twinkled and shined around her. The union of their bodies was magical. It felt sacred, almost holy.
It took a while to recover her senses. When she did, Connor was kissing her tenderly. He was normally a very dominant, demanding, aggressive man. But lying here beside her, he was different: so gentle, so loving. ‘Loving.’ That was not a word he’d use to describe himself. And yet there was a look in his eyes that made her melt. It wasn’t just passion she saw. It was affection and devotion, respect and even adoration. Yet he’d insisted they had no future together. Was it any wonder she was confused? Or was she deluding herself, seeing things that weren’t there? At this point, she didn’t know anymore. Why couldn’t they just fall in love and live happily ever after like normal people? Why all the misery, uncertainty, and angst? Could their relationship be any more fucked up? Probably not! Yet here she was, as always, a glutton for punishment, grasping at straws, and hoping for the best. She’d fallen in love with him. That had been her undoing. Now she was at his mercy. She had a bad feeling this wasn’t going to end well!
