Dominated: A Kinky Adult Fairy Tale (Bedding the Bad Girl Book 4) Page 4

  She was so full, so unbelievably full and hyperaware of the thin wall of flesh that separated the two parts of her body. It was wonderfully erotic, sensual as hell, but also terrifying.

  She had never felt this laid bare or been this invaded by another human being. It wasn’t just his hands or where he put them or what he did with them. It was the intensity with which he surveyed her, demanding every last part of her, body and soul, be offered up for his pleasure.

  Damn him, it was his pleasure, no matter that she was the one getting ready to come for the second time, and for some reason that knowledge broke something inside her.

  Eleanor whimpered as she started to come.

  Tears rushed down her cheeks even as her womb contracted in fierce, clutching waves. Frank wrung every last bit of passion from her body, coaxing more and more cream from her with gently undulating fingers, but his eyes never wavered from hers. He didn’t flinch away from her tears or her abandon; he continued to drink her in with eyes that promised so much more than any stranger could ever give her.

  When her quaking finally began to give way to a more generalized tremble, Frank eased his fingers away

  “F-frank, I—”

  He didn’t let her finish, but silenced her words with his entire body. Before she could register that he was moving he was on top of her, crushing her back against the couch, claiming her lips with a kiss that stole the last of her soul from her body. She melted into him, every barrier in her heart crashing down as he angled his mouth and loved her with his teeth and tongue.

  “You were amazing.” His hands roved over her body with an easy familiarity that sparked excitement to life within her again.

  “I cried,” she said, letting one hand venture to the front of his loincloth.

  He moaned as she stroked him for the first time, tracing the outline of his engorged cock. He was indeed enormous, more than she would have thought she’d enjoy—at least before tonight.

  But hell, if her ass could relish two of his thick, blunt fingers, she knew her pussy could handle the hot shaft that now twitched under her curious fingertips.

  “I want this, Frank. I want you,” Eleanor said, not afraid of what they were about to do. What they’d already done was more intimate than half the sex she’d had in her life.

  There was no reason not to take this further, not to discover if the connection between them would be even more profound if he were to climax with her as he tunneled in and out of her core.

  “Um…Captain? Are you ready for company in there?” asked a strange voice from some other corner of the room.

  Eleanor’s eyes flew wide. “Who is that?” She scrambled to cover herself even as she realized it wasn’t necessary. Frank’s large body concealed her, but for some reason that didn’t make her feel better. She wouldn’t feel better until her breasts were back in their corset and something was covering her bare pussy. “Who, Frank? And where?”

  “Close your eyes, Nate,” Frank ordered in a no-nonsense tone.

  Eleanor peeked over his shoulder to where a young man stood just inside the door leading to the dressing room. The gangly redhead squeezed his eyes closed, gulping so mightily that his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his skinny throat.

  “Did that kid just watch—“ Eleanor sucked in a breath. “Did he see? Did anyone else see?”

  “No one saw anything. Right, Nate?”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir,” Nate said, his eyes still closed. “The surveillance cameras were turned off as ordered.”

  “See?” Frank tugged up her corset and pulled the laces tight. He then leaned over and pressed a kiss to the tops of her breasts before handing her both her panties and hot pants.

  She didn’t have time to wonder at the tenderness of that kiss before he was up and on the move.

  “What’s up?” Frank asked, rearranging his diaper, somehow managing not to look either ridiculous or ashamed as he crossed to the sink in the corner to wash his hands. For all she could tell, it was as if his subordinates caught him finger-fucking women every day.

  Good God, maybe they did. What did she really know about Frank? She had no idea who this man was or what he was really about.

  That was something she would do well to remember the next time she decided it would be a good idea to take her clothes off first and ask questions later.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Eleanor

  Nate cleared his throat, but didn’t open his eyes. “Sir, the suspect is on his way up the outer stairs. He should be at the elevator in less than five minutes, arrival in ten.”

  “Is the lobby staff ready?” Frank glanced over his shoulder, evidently checking to be sure that she was dressed. “You can open your eyes, Officer.”

  “Ready and armed, and we’re ready back here whenever you say go,” the young man confirmed. Eleanor had to admit that it sounded like the Queen’s Guard had their shit together, even if she couldn’t say the same for the woman pulling their strings.

  Then again, maybe Cindy had changed, maybe she really had sent this man to protect her and wanted to make amends. Maybe there was no other story, no selfish motive for her actions, just the need to mend a relationship that should never have been allowed to sour so completely in the first place.

  “Right, and maybe I’ll win the Kingdom City Lottery and retire to the tropics,” Eleanor mumbled to herself before pushing to her feet.

  “You can resume your position, Officer,” Frank ordered.

  As Nate disappeared back into the hidden panel in the wall, Eleanor crossed to the fake plant in the corner. She had stashed a cattle prod back there not too long ago. She’d been too squeamish to use the device on the man who had brought it to her as a gift, but figured it might come in handy for self-defense.

  “Where are you going?” Frank asked.

  “I’m getting a weapon,” she said, pulling the instrument out from where it was buried in the fake moss at the base of the monstrous plant.

  God, she hated fake plants. As soon as she worked somewhere that saw the light of day, she promised herself she would throw the hideous thing away.

  “What is that?”

  She held the pole up for inspection. “A cattle prod.”

  “You don’t need a cattle prod.”

  “Why, are you going to give me a gun?” She hadn’t shot a gun in ages, but the idea of holding one in her hand was tempting. If she was really going to meet the man who had been threatening her, she figured the more heavily armed, the better.

  “Of course not. You don’t need a weapon,” he said, holding out a hand for the prod. “We’re here to provide for your protection. You just need to act naturally and go about business as usual until the guy crosses the line.”

  “So I’m like…the bait?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “In a way.”

  “You were going to use me as bait, without even letting me know?” Eleanor asked, anger rising inside of her. It was all well and good to use her as a lure when she was on guard, but what would it have felt like to believe that she was in mortal danger before Frank and his boys burst in from behind the walls?

  “It wasn’t my preferred plan of action.”

  Eleanor frowned. “But you were going to do it anyway, because that’s the way she wanted it done?”

  “There isn’t time to explain everything, I just—”

  “There’s no need to explain. I understand.” She did understand and she felt like the biggest fool in the world. How could she have opened herself up to a man who was on her stepdaughter’s payroll? It was more than foolish; it was downright dangerous.

  Cindy had proven time and again that she had nothing but contempt for Eleanor. Maybe ruining her reputation wasn’t enough any more, maybe she was after what was left of her life. There was still a chance that Frank wasn’t what he seemed.

  What if he had been hired to make sure no one interrupted while the psycho who wanted to kill Eleanor went about his work? What if he were in charge of disposing
of her body, and ascertaining there would be no witnesses? What if—

  “Calm down, don’t let your thoughts start going to that place again.” Frank, the apparent mind reader, placed his comforting I’ll-take-care-of-everything hands on her shoulders. “You can trust me, I think I proved that a few minutes ago.”

  A sizzle of arousal hummed through her, relaxing all of her muscles except the few still pulsing hungrily between her legs.

  “I’m here to help you,” Frank continued. “I won’t let him hurt you. I promise.”

  He took the cattle prod gently from her hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Eleanor’s eyes closed, her lips parted, and her entire body cried out for her to fall into his arms and never let him go.

  But she forced herself to stand still, struggling to revive all those self-preservation instincts that she had once thought she possessed in abundance.

  Psycho killer or savior, Frank was beyond her reach. They had shared a moment of passion, and that was all they would ever share. It was time to focus on the job at hand and forget that she had looked into his eyes and thought that she might get another chance at something she hadn’t had the courage to wish for.

  “I’m going to the east dressing room,” Frank said. “My guy in the lobby is going to send the suspect to the west dressing room—”

  “You have a guy in the lobby?” Her belly churned as she realized this was really going to happen. “But all of my staff are female, even security. It’s the Wicked Stepmother and her Stepsisters S&M Parlor. Everyone who comes here knows that. It’s part of the draw. Don’t you think the guy is going to be suspicious?”

  “According to our research, the suspect has never been here before. We’ve been tailing him for about a week. We haven’t gotten a clear look at his face, but he doesn’t match up with any of the photos of your clients.”

  “You’ve been taking pictures of my clients?” Eleanor’s mind raced as she realized how hard the shit would hit the fan if her clientele realized their privacy has been violated. Privacy was everything to her breed of customers. She was as good as finished when this news leaked. She might as well let her stalker slash her throat and be done with it.

  “And I’d do it again,” Frank said. “I was trying to save your life.”

  “What life am I going to have left when I can’t support myself?”

  “I don’t have time to argue right now. Are you ready to handle this or do I need to remove you and deal with the man myself?” Frank asked in that voice that made her feel about ten years old.

  She hated that voice—hated it and loved it, but mostly hated it.

  “I’m fine, go ahead.” Finally, she sounded as cold and collected as she should have sounded from the second he walked in the door.

  “I’ll be watching. I’m right behind that door if you need me.”

  “I won’t need you. I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” She met his hard look with a hard look of her own. This time, he broke first, turning toward the east dressing room with a frustrated sigh that, for some reason, gave her quite a bit of pleasure.

  As Frank crossed the room, his hand reached down the back of his loincloth to pull out a small but deadly looking pistol.

  “Shit,” she blurted out. “You did have a gun in your diaper.”

  “My other gun is more impressive,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll get a look at it if you’re good.”

  “Cocky bastard,” Eleanor muttered.

  “I heard that,” he said, not turning to look at her before he disappeared into the dressing room.

  Cocky bastard with excellent hearing, Eleanor thought, ignoring the little thrill that the thought of his “gun” inspired.

  She quickly wound her hair up into a knot on the top of her head and crossed to the vanity to reapply her blood red lipstick. After adding a fresh coat of mascara to her lashes, she was mostly presentable. She was ready—or as ready as she would ever be to face a crazed maniac who had threatened to kill her.

  Eleanor hurried to fetch her crop from where she had thrown it during her session with Frank. She gripped the instrument in her hands tightly, reminding herself that she wasn’t defenseless. She had drawn blood with this crop once tonight, albeit unintentionally, and she could do it again.

  She had also managed to do some damage with her shoes, and there was no way this loser could be as big as Frank. If he was that manly, he wouldn’t have to resort to writing threatening letters to a woman half his size.

  “Right,” she whispered aloud.

  With a deep breath, she took up her customary position in the center of the room.

  “Mistress, may I enter?” came a raspy, hushed voice from the west dressing room seconds later.

  Shit, it was him.

  It was time to step into character. Ready or not, her homicidal maniac had arrived.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Frank

  “Enter, slave.” Eleanor’s voice sounded from the room, her tone twice as haughty as it had been when he had first entered her parlor.

  Frank was impressed, but still worried. He didn’t want her out there alone. What had sounded like an acceptable course of action when he hadn’t known Eleanor—hadn’t tasted her, touched her, watched the walls behind her eyes come crashing down as she abandoned herself to pleasure—did not seem acceptable now.

  Sure, he could see her on the surveillance monitor and would be able to reach her in seconds, but it didn’t feel like enough. He felt unprepared. Of course, when he had been prepping himself and the team for this moment, he’d had no idea that he would be emotionally invested in the outcome.

  He had come here wanting to do a good job for his queen, to protect her estranged stepmother. Now, he was sitting in this dressing room, sweating his balls off, determined to save the life of a woman he wanted for his own.

  He would bet his left arm that tonight had been her first time in the submissive role, but she had taken to it like a fish finding water. The trust she’d given him so freely had overwhelmed him. He didn’t want another man to be on the receiving end of that kind of trust. It would be too easy to abuse her, to take advantage of her while she was new to the scene. And she would be new to the scene. There was no way she would be able to resist another experience after what they’d done tonight.

  She would start to crave the freedom of submission, and he was already craving the sweet responsibility of instructing her in the art.

  You’re craving more than the privilege of instructing her. You want her, man, all of her.

  As if on cue, his cock started to swell and thicken, recovering from the softening brought on by Nate’s untimely appearance on the scene. Thank God the kid had shown up, or Frank might not have been able to stop himself from finishing what they’d started. He’d only meant to kill a little time and relax Eleanor in the process. He’d never intended for things to go so far or imagined that he would be tempted to take things further.

  By the time she’d begged him to fuck her, he’d nearly forgotten the reasons he shouldn’t. What did a dozen men waiting for his command and a suspected stalker on the way matter when his cock felt like it would explode if he didn’t get inside Eleanor?

  The taste of her still lingered in his mouth, sweet and addictive. She tasted clean yet decadent, a compelling mix of innocence and abandon.

  It made him wonder…who was the real Eleanor? Was she the woman she’d given him a glimpse of—a widow betrayed by a confused teenager? Or was she a better actress than he had assumed, the kind of woman who knew how to read her clients and give them what they wanted, even if it wasn’t something usually on the menu?

  Frank felt a knot form in his chest as suspicion took root. Could she have taken him for a ride? He’d never hired a woman for pleasure; what did he really know about the way the transactions worked?

  Watching Eleanor prowl the center of the room with complete confidence in the presence of a man she assumed was a psychopath made him wonder—was he the teacher or th
e student in their relationship?

  “Hello.” The odd voice sounded from the opposite side of the room. Frank forced his mind back to the work at hand. There would be time to dissect his relationship with Eleanor after he made sure she was safe.

  Relationship. He’d just thought of what they had as a relationship.

  Damn, he really was in trouble.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” Eleanor’s client spoke again, soft and scratchy. He was clearly trying to manipulate his voice, which made Frank nervous. He’d never heard the man speak, but maybe Eleanor had.

  Why else would he be attempting to disguise his voice? Maybe Eleanor’s stalker was someone she knew. That would explain why the man was still in his disguise.

  In over a month of tailing him, no one had seen the man out of that wide-brimmed hat he kept pulled low over his features. Frank’s people had been tracking him long enough to know that Eleanor wasn’t the only woman he had been stalking. The sicko was a busy man, terrorizing half the sex workers in the city. So far he hadn’t acted on any of his twisted threats, but he was still managing to inflict serious damage.

  Rumors of the “red light stalker” were scaring away business on the seedier side of town, seriously affecting the bottom line of the S&M parlors, as well as the more straight-laced bordellos.

  While Frank never frequented the places, these citizens deserved protection from creeps threatening their livelihood—not to mention their lives—as much as any other person in the kingdom. The new king and queen might be on a mission to close down the sex trade, but until they succeeded in making it illegal to traffic in human flesh, it was Frank’s job to provide the workers of the red light district with equal protection under the law.

  “You will refer to me as Mistress, you will not look me in the eye, and you will be punished if you speak before spoken to again. Is that clear?” Eleanor asked the man in front of her, still sounding strong and confident.