Deception [The Masters Series 1] (Siren Publishing LoveEdge) Read online

  Yet through it all, technically the little witch had never left his sight. He had chased her down the stairwell, and through the lobby. He was right on her tail when she barreled through the double doors, and he was right there as the large silver SUV plowed right into her. Yep, he was the epitome of civility. He called for an ambulance, then his boss. Hell, he even stepped aside so the paparazzi could get a good picture of her mangled face. He rode to the hospital and stayed with her until she went into surgery. She never left his sight.

  He had done his job and now he was content.

  However, looking at the scowl on his boss’s face, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Of course, the shouting and the constant hand slapping on the desk was a sure giveaway that, just maybe, his life wasn’t as wonderful as he thought.

  If he wanted to get philosophical, Garret could actually pinpoint when the shit hit the fan, and it wasn’t when Miss Debutante had decided to walk the fuck out on her protection detail and get her ass hit by a fucking car. Nope, it had been three weeks ago, when he picked up his phone and heard her voice.

  Not just any voice, it was her voice.

  Mary Jane Delany.

  How she had gotten his private number, he didn’t know, but he could take a wild guess, and when he got his hands on that conniving little fucker, he was going to put a bullet in his head for sure this time. Yep, it had been at that precise moment in time when all reason fled. Because of that one second of pure dumb-dumbness, he’d accepted the worse fucking case of his life and thanks to that call he was about to lose his job.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Director McMillan shouted at him. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t thinking.” Well, Garret thought that if he was going to lose his job he might as well be honest about it and go out with a bang.

  “You got that fucking right. Do you know what type of shit storm you brought down on this bureau? All because one of our top agents couldn’t do his fucking job. Why, you ask? Because he was too busy making a fucking personal call, instead of watching the fucking witness.”

  Yep, Garret knew his ass was grass. The more f-bombs McMillan dropped the more pissed off he got.

  “You seriously fucked up, Riley! This is one big ass cluster-fuck. I have had to deal with the brass in D.C. because you can’t let your fucking phone go to voice mail. What the fuck am I supposed to tell that poor girl’s parents?”

  “How about that their daughter was a spoiled little witch and defied authority every step of the way. That would be a nice start,” he murmured quietly, mainly to himself.

  “I heard that, asshole,” McMillan said. Sighing, his boss sat down, and looked him dead in the eye.

  Here it comes.

  “I need your badge and service weapon. I have no choice but to put you on suspension without pay, pending a formal investigation.”

  Handing over the items, Garret kept his mouth shut. Saying anything at this juncture would only dig his grave deeper. He knew the rules. He had seen it happen to several good friends, but it still didn’t take the sting out of it happening to him. With nothing else to say, he turned and headed for the door.

  “Garret, some advice,” McMillan said, and not waiting for his response, offered, “Get away from here, and try to figure out what you really want. I’ll see what I can do about your job, but in the meantime, take a vacation. I hear Tennessee is lovely this time of year.”

  Garret ignored the man and left, knowing there was nothing on the planet that would ever get him to go back to Tennessee.

  Chapter Two

  She thought she’d picked the right one, a Master who would treasure her as well as discipline her. She missed that and needed it. She’d always been turned on by the thought of being pleasured by a strong and demanding man or two, who would punish her if she failed to please him, and who she’d love letting control and use her.

  She had loved learning how to please him. Then she’d begun with her smart-mouth comebacks. The need to test her limits was one of the character flaws her father and teachers had always complained about, but she didn’t care.

  She quickly learned that, however amused he might be by her cheekiness, he would still discipline her. Her butt had been reddened on more than one occasion for flippantly asking why he took his time in claiming her or suggesting he get his own damn drink. After the punishment, she’d tearfully promise him she would not let her smart mouth get her into trouble anymore. They were wasted words, because eventually she just had to voice one too many smart comments, accompanied by real hints of defiance.

  Finally, his usual tolerant amusement was obliterated by real anger. She hadn’t forgotten the bruises he’d left on her throat as his hand pinned her against the wall a month ago or the dark savagery in his eyes, but he had let her go and stepped away. However, this time, he told her, she would learn that she was born to be his and then he left her alone in her room, locking the door after he left.

  At first, she had been a little fearful, wondering what punishment he planned, but the hours passed with no contact from him and she’d grown puzzled, then resentful. She’d been good for a while, waiting for him to return and hoping he wouldn’t stay away too long. Then she decided he wasn’t the right one for her. He should have known that abandoning her was not what she wanted or needed. Therefore, she’d done the unthinkable. She left.

  She hadn’t run away, per se, she had just gone out for a bit to get some fresh air. Yep, those three hours were the most fun she’d had in a long time, but like all good things, even her fun had to come to an end when he found her. She smiled thinking of the punishment she had received, a spanking that still tingled and burned when she thought about it. Blushing, she wondered what she could do to receive such punishment again.

  Walking out of the bedroom, she froze. His large figure was standing in the doorway, staring directly at her. She knew what his posture meant, and intimately recalled the cold rage in his face the day she had pushed their relationship too far. Now he was here, in their room, and something was wrong. She had actually managed to make him really angry a month ago running away, and she was surprised that he consolidated his rage into something far more dangerous. She couldn’t hold back the desperate little yelp as the door clicked solidly shut and he turned to look at her. The roses tumbled to the floor as she dropped to her knees, eyes down and hands resting on her open thighs.

  “Well, well. At least you still have some manners left,” he sneered as he moved a couple of steps further into the room. “Get on your stomach.”

  Wordlessly, she slid forward and assumed the position he commanded, fingers locked behind her neck, forehead on the floor. She could feel her heart hammering against the wooden floor as she listened to him walk slowly toward her and then around her prone body until he stopped near her head. If she squinted to look sideways she could just see the toe of one of his shoes. She wondered why he was home early. As if he was reading her mind he remarked conversationally, “Did you really think I wouldn’t check on you? That I would just leave you to your own devices so you could run away again?”

  “No.” In trying to answer his question, she floundered meaninglessly.

  “Be quiet!”

  With that sharp reprimand, he walked away and she heard the drawers in the kitchen open and close. She dared not look, but he was soon back, one leg on either side of her body. He dropped to his knees and one strong hand gripped the back of her T-shirt at the neck, pulling it toward him. She couldn’t stop the squeak of panic as she felt cold steel touch her skin. He laughed and rested the blade against her body so that she knew he did indeed have a knife in his hand.

  The T-shirt, pulled tight between her body and his hand, gave easily as the knife cut along the full length of the back. The point drifted back along her spine, like the fingernail of a cold dead hand, and he shifted his grip on the T-shirt to cut along the shoulders on both sides. Her skirt parted easily, the knife cutting it from waist to hem on one long movement. She
bit her bottom lip in an attempt not to whimper. Not that it would have mattered to him if she had whimpered, except perhaps to confirm that she was finally truly frightened of him.

  He shifted above her, only to roughly rip first the remnants of the T-shirt and then her panties from under her body. Swift cuts and a few hard tugs left her naked, lying on the hard, cold floor. She struggled to keep her hands clasped, wrapping them around her neck, pressed to the floor as he had commanded.

  The flat of the blade pushed under her hands and lifted them. Gently, with her palms resting against the blade, he pressed the point against the back of her neck. She flinched as his other hand caressed her neck. His hand was warm, but her shame made her think that it burned like a brand against her skin.

  “No…my collar,” she gasped.

  His voice was deceptively pleasant. She felt sure he had known all along that she had removed the delicate collar he had placed there almost three months ago. She tried to bury her ultimate nakedness against the uncaring wooden floor, unable to prevent a low moan of fear. His hand moved around to the softness of her throat and cupped the slenderness against the point of the knife.

  “Stay very still, Pandora. Don’t move even an inch.”

  His voice was calm as he removed his hand, along with the sharp tip of the knife. She heard him walk steadily away and the slight scrape of a chair before he dropped into it. The silence stretched as she lay there waiting for him to decide what he wanted to do next. The sweet smell of the roses scattered around her filled her nostrils and she wanted to explain that she shouldn’t have been left alone without hearing his voice or feeling his touch. She wanted to tell him that she hadn’t wanted to run away, but he had left her before and she thought he didn’t care about her anymore. Yet the memory of the few months he had spent training her and her newfound fear kept her silent. He sighed and clicked his fingers.

  “Come to me.”

  She started to crawl to him, but he stopped her with a sharp command to stay on her belly. The short distance across the floor seemed a long way as she dragged herself to him. Moving in this position, she could not even show the swing of her breasts or the long line of her spine until it disappeared into the curve of her buttocks. It was clumsy and demeaning, highlighting his absolute power over her. Finally, she lay with her cheek next to his shoes, too ashamed to even risk a quick glance in his direction.

  “What am I to do with you?”

  The question was rhetorical.

  She chose to stay quiet.

  “Something has come up that requires my attention, and as much as I would love to take you with me, I fear you will bolt again. Can you promise me that you will never run again?”

  Swallowing and trying to keep her voice clear, she replied, “I will not run again, Master.”

  There was soft thud and a slight metallic rattle next to her face and she tried to turn her head to see what had made the noise without him noticing.

  “You have a choice, Pandora, for I will not be making this one for you. However, now that I have you, I am concerned. You still defy me at every turn, so how can I believe you? You tell me you will not run, and at the first chance, you do so. I discipline you, at your request I might add, I care for you, provide for you, and love you, but that isn’t enough, is it? So tell me what it really is that you need, because I am at a loss.”

  His voice was distant and hard and she started to cry, protesting his words between the sobs. How could she tell him that he was half of a whole, and she needed them both? How could she tell him that she was living a half life, without her other Master? She thought she could survive with just one of them, but something was missing. She needed his other half.

  “Look at what is on the floor next to you.”

  She turned her head to focus through the tears at the object he’d dropped. It was a plain leather dog collar with a lead attached.

  “I thought you had committed yourself when you offered me your neck to collar, but you think this is a game. This time, once that collar is around your neck, you will surrender your will to me.” His words were like blows, each one delivered in a measured tone.

  “Or you can say no and I will leave, forever.”

  She knew that would mean that it would be a long time, perhaps never, until she found his other half. She also knew he was right. She had not fully given herself to his will, thinking she could have everything she wanted without consequences or responsibility. His demand that she place the collar around her own neck was the perfect way to brand in her mind that she had chosen to submit completely instead of thinking it was all just a game she could enjoy.

  Timidly, she reached for the collar and undid it. It wasn’t that easy, lying on her belly and struggling to get the buckle undone. Mentally, it was even harder to put it around her neck and do it up. Once she had it attached, she knew there would be no going back. He didn’t move throughout the whole process, nor did he speak, but she knew he watched as she finally got the buckle done up and returned her forehead to the floor.

  She didn’t have long to wait to learn what he intended. Without speaking, he reached down and took a firm grip on the collar. She couldn’t stop the whimper of fear as she was half dragged, half carried, like a dog about to be tossed out the back door for peeing on the floor, to the kitchen. He pushed her across the kitchen counter that separated the tiny living area from the even smaller kitchen and stepped back. She hung across it, unable to touch the floor. She couldn’t hear what he was doing behind her but it didn’t take long to find out. The first smack of his belt against her bare ass let her know what was in store and she wailed in surprise and shock.

  “Be quiet. I do not want to hear your voice until you begin to understand that my voice is the only one that matters.”

  The belt whistled again. With expert skill, it landed immediately below the first mark. As did the next and the next, as he worked down her buttocks and thighs. At other times, his hand would drive her mad with delight as it traced the reddening marks or even caressed her pussy between the blows, but this time there was no respite. She struggled to stay silent, but couldn’t prevent the tiny moans each blow drew. He changed sides to rest his arm and began again, this time working from the thighs, up toward the reddening cheeks. Despite the pain, she realized his blows were carefully controlled. He could have raised welts or even drawn blood, but these were designed for prolonged punishment, and finally, she couldn’t hold back the sobs, both of fear and of pain.

  She tried counting in her mind to provide some measure of pride, but in the end, she lost count. She wanted desperately to say her safeword, to see if he would care enough to stop, but he’d told her he didn’t want to hear her voice. It was his right to do whatever he wanted because she’d given that right to him when she had placed the collar around her own neck. In the end, that was what kept her from screaming for him to have mercy. She had finally given him her trust and she couldn’t plead for mercy. It was for him to decide when she had learned her lesson.

  At last he stopped. He was breathing a little heavily as he walked around the counter. She whimpered and looked at him through her tears. He held the belt up to her lips and she kissed it.

  “Hold it,” he commanded as he pushed it between her teeth.

  Willingly, she closed her mouth on the leather and he slid his hands along her arms to guide her hands to the edge of the bench top, closing her unresisting fingers on it. He took the belt from her mouth and told her to hold tight, because this was going to be bad. His tone made her body start to shake as he turned to walk away. Then he paused, looked back at her, and reached over to grab the tea towel hanging next to the sink. He pushed it into her mouth with a terse command to bite down on it if she had to. Her body started to shake harder as he moved away to stand behind her again.

  The cheeks of her ass were already hot and red when the blow landed. The already sensitized skin came alive in a strip of fire and she bit down on the tea towel. As the next one landed, she clung t
o the bench top like a rock-climber clinging to bare rock after the safety line had failed. The belt only swung twice, but it was enough. For the first time since she had known him, she realized he’d never used his full strength to punish her. From that day forward, she would remember what he was capable of.

  The touch of his hand as he ran it over her hot buttocks was soft, but the sudden thrust of two fingers into her pussy was not. Her yelp was muffled in the tea towel as he stretched and pushed against her tunnel walls.

  “God, you’re beautiful, Pandora.”

  He sounded pleased. Despite the pain caused by his expert use of the belt, particularly the last two strokes, she was swollen and wet. His fingers abruptly withdrew and he walked around and gently tilted her head up to look at him again. His thumbs brushed the tears away and he eased the tea towel out of her mouth. He turned the tap on, letting some water run into the palm of his hand and carried it to her lips. Gratefully, she lapped the liquid to ease the dryness from having the tea towel stuffed in her mouth. He hooked his fingers under the collar again, dragged her sideways off the counter, and let her drop to the floor as he walked back around it and into the little sitting room.

  “Suck me,” he ordered as he undid his jeans and dropped into an easy chair.

  She collapsed to her knees when she dropped off the edge of the counter. At his words, she crawled to him, the lead dangling from her collar. Desperate to tell him she was grateful for his chastising, she pressed her body against his legs as she lifted her mouth to lick his thighs, working toward his cock. His fingers twisted in her hair and he pulled her up a little and pushed her face against his groin. His cock was huge and hard as she opened her mouth obediently and sucked in as much as she could.

  “That’s right. Good girl. Just like that, Pandora.”