Chapter 20

It was past midnight when Veronica got out of the cab, giving the driver a nice tip and a flash of stocking leg.

He’d made it back to her place in record time.

Given the toothy grin she’d received in response, he appreciated both.

The outer door was locked, and it took a second to get the key in the lock, hoping Mr. Anderson wasn’t going to come out and offer to “help.” She didn’t want to try to explain why she was totally within her rights as a renter to come in at all hours of the day and night as long as she kept the noise down.

The bottom apartment remained silent as she stepped inside and climbed the steps to her flat, pulling her red wig off. She ran her fingers through the short blonde hair now released, fluffing it up and free.

I need a drink.

She also needed to set up a training schedule for her employees to give them a general knowledge of Greenwood Books. It was guaranteed they’d get questions about where certain books were located, and she wanted them to be integrated into the bookstore as much as possible to help both companies.

Veronica pushed the door open and stepped inside. She closed the door and kicked off her high heels with a grunt of relief before picking them up by the straps.

Note to self: Time to go shopping for new shoes.

She tossed them in the bedroom and walked into the kitchen carrying the wig.

“What’s up with that?”

She spun toward the voice, bunching the red tresses up in her hand as a possible weapon.

Oliver sat in a chair facing her. “The wig. What’s up with the wig?” He eyed her, raising his eyebrows. “You were going to toss it at me? Seriously?”

“If I needed to.” She advanced on him and flipped on the lights, bringing him out of the darkness. “As to your first question—I wear it to help me distinguish between what’s real and what’s not. When I’m at the club, it’s the fantasy not the reality.”

“Ah.” He remained seated. “So how did it go tonight?” His gaze settled on the silver bracelet. “Did you get many offers?”

“Getting personal, aren’t we?” She hadn’t left her bracelet in her locker. She’d worn it all the way home, touching and stroking the slender band in the cab.

“Just curious.” He dragged his eyes back up to meet hers. “I expect you were the talk of the town.”

“If I was, then everyone went mute. I apologized to Kate and Alex, to any of the subs who were there I’d abused in the past. I sat and waited. And waited. Finally I got an offer from Lucien.” Veronica dropped the wig on the couch and walked around to sit down. “I don’t know if you’ve met him.”

“I’ve heard of him.” Oliver’s tone was flat and emotionless. “He’s a good man.”

“He is,” she agreed. “A kind and gentle man.”

“So.” Oliver cleared his throat. “Did you go with him?”

“Of course.” She watched him tense up with the confession, his neck muscles taut and straining. “I’d be a fool to pass on a session with one of the club’s premier Doms.”

“And?”

Veronica smiled. “I safe-worded out.”

The flash of anger in his eyes startled her. “Did he hurt you? Did he—”

“To repeat a popular phrase, it wasn’t him, it was me.” Veronica looked down at the floor and rubbed her stocking feet against the hardwood floor. “He was quiet but firm, gentle but strict. Everything a submissive could want. I can see why they’re lining up for his attentions.” She smiled at the memory. “I used to think he was a weak man, a wuss because he didn’t snap commands and bark at his women. Now I understand. But it wasn’t working for me, the chemistry. So I worded out, thanked him profusely, and came home.” She pulled her head up to glare at Oliver. “And it’s my call who I go with. Not yours.”

Not yet.

Veronica bit back the words. “So how the hell did you get in here and what did you come here for?”

“Mr. Anderson happens to be a big book reader.” Oliver smirked. “I gave him a gift card for letting me in with his spare key. Told him I was going to surprise you.”

“That you did.” Veronica watched him. “However, my office hours are during the week and only by appointment on the weekend.” She forced herself up from the sofa, her insides churning. “So unless you’ve got more of a reason to be here than just to illustrate how you can bribe my landlord—”

Oliver’s hand slipped inside his jacket. “I came because of this.” He brought his hand out and opened it.

The leather collar sat in his hand.

Veronica touched her throat automatically.

“I—” He rose to his feet. “I want you. I want you so badly, my teeth hurt.” The words tumbled out over each other. “I couldn’t go to the club tonight because I’ve done that, followed an ex-client to her club and watched her go out into the crowd, flush with her new position. She left with another Dom and I hated myself for letting her go but I had to. It was”—the smile was forced—“the rules.”

She nodded but said nothing, encouraging him to go on.

“Then Wendy asked me to take you, and I—” He shook his head. “I don’t know how you did it. You got inside me and—” He curled his hand into a fist, the leather strap hanging out from one side. “I was alive again. I haven’t felt that since Mel, and I didn’t know what to do about it.” Oliver looked at her. “I want you as a business partner because you’re a strong, savvy woman who knows what you want. But I also want you as my woman. I want you to let me take control from you when you need to be set free, to relax and let me take the weight on my shoulders.”

Veronica put her hands on her hips, letting a sly smile play on her lips. “So a Domme in the boardroom and a sub in the bedroom?”

“Yes.” He held out the collar. “It’s your decision. As I told you the first time we met, the submissive has the power to always say no.” There was a bit of a tremble as the leather dangled from his fingers.

The nervous excitement she’d been feeling all evening now coiled into an explosive ball in her belly.

He wants me.

But—

“I want to make a few things clear.” Veronica forced herself to sound calm. “I run Java Jive. If I’m going to be your partner in and out of the bedroom, I need my own space, my own office. I’m not going to be a silent owner letting you have your way with my staff.”

He raised an eyebrow at the last statement and smiled.

“Agreed. Although Jane could possibly be—”

Her self-control broke, and she stepped forward, brushing her feet against his shoes.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Both his eyebrows rose, and before she could make another move, his hand clamped on the back of her neck.

“Is that any way to talk to your Master?” He tilted her head up so she could see him.

“Sorry.” She let him know by the tone that she wasn’t.

“Damn.” His other hand pressed the leather collar against her neck as he released her. “You’ve already started topping from the bottom. That’s a bad habit I’ll have to break.”

She pulled the collar around and fastened it. “I’ll enjoy letting you try.”

His self-control was gone, shredded by the emotional firestorm devouring him from inside for hours. As soon as she did up the collar, he put his hand on the back of her neck and drew her to him.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him hard and deep, the sexual tension between them stretched to the breaking point.

He pulled back. “Let’s go to your bedroom,” he rasped, already at his breaking point.

“Yes, Sir.” The mischievous grin had his mouth watering, his hunger for her almost overwhelming his senses.

He wanted nothing more than to tear her clothing off and throw her on the floor, ravage her as she’d ravaged his imagination for the past few weeks. Instead, he gave her another hard punishing kiss and gave her a shove toward her bedroom.

She laughed as she walked down in front of him, intentionally giving her hips an extra sway that drove his libido into overload.

Oliver growled as he walked through the doorway and saw her sprawled on the bed.

He loosened his tie and pointed at the floor in front of him. “Here. Now.”

She pouted but slid to the floor on her knees and moved into position.

He toed off his shoes and looked down at the evil grin.

“You’ve no idea how much trouble you’ve given me.” Oliver tried to look stern but inside couldn’t stop grinning. “More than a few sleepless nights.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. May I make it up to you?” Her hands landed on his knees and slowly inched up his jeans, her fingertips intentionally brushing over his growing erection.

Oliver’s throat went dry, and he nodded, bereft of words.

She undid his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear, setting his cock free. It bobbled in front of her with obvious enthusiasm, his arousal already beading at the tip.

“I appreciate all you’ve done for me.” She licked her lips. “And all you’re going to do to me.”

Her mouth landed on him, and for a second, Oliver thought he was going to faint.

Veronica grunted as his hands tangled in her hair, gripping tight as she ran her tongue over and around him, humming a popular tune. Her hands cupped his balls and massaged them as his hips rocked back and forth. His gasps told her she was doing everything just right.

Suddenly, he pulled out, panting as he took hold of her shoulders and brought her to her feet.

“You’ve been a very bad girl,” he said as he maneuvered her to the bed. “Making me wait for you to come home.”

“I’m sorry,” Veronica said, holding back a smile.

“You will be.” He kicked off his clothing and sat on the bed. He pointed at his lap. “You’re long overdue for a good spanking.”

She pouted but positioned herself exactly the way she had the first time—but now she felt his erection bobbing against her, his arousal warm and wet.

His hands landed on the garters and expertly snapped them free. “I do like black stockings,” Oliver murmured. “Glad you didn’t ruin them.” He tucked one finger under the black underwear keeping her decent. “This, however, I am willing to replace.”

He yanked it off with one swift tug, the silk giving way with ease.

Veronica gasped in shock.

“Don’t move,” he warned. His palm landed on her bare ass, squeezing hard. It inched up over the small of her back and pressed against the thin black lace and leather running along her spine.

“This is a lovely outfit,” Oliver murmured as he caressed and fondled her. His left hand moved from the back of her neck over to the front, stroking her cheek.

She caught one finger in her mouth as he ran it over her lips, and drew it in with hot, wet licks.

“Oh.” He groaned and moved against her. “You little vixen.”

His hand came down hard and fast, the strokes measured and spaced out on her bare skin. He shifted from one cheek to the other then to the area just below on her thighs, every slap sending lightning strikes straight to her core.

Veronica gasped as she released his finger and concentrated on the pleasure building inside her. His cock pushed against her belly as he continued to spank her, grunting and panting as he increased both the rhythm of his strokes and of his hips rocking against her.

Finally, he stopped.

She moaned, on the verge of tears and of coming.

“Stand up.”

She couldn’t move.

“I’ll help you.” His arms went around her.

Oliver gently helped her stand again, resting his hands on her hips. He stayed seated on the bed, his erection proudly on display.

“Undress me,” came the throaty order.

Veronica leaned forward and kissed his forehead. She undid his tie with a quick flurry of fingers and tossed it to the side before working on unbuttoning his shirt.

Oliver closed his eyes and moaned as she helped him shrug it off onto the mattress and onto the floor.

It would have taken less time if she hadn’t been constantly distracted by his playing with the leather ties on the front of her corset, pulling each knot free before drawing the long strings through the eyelets, opening her up wholly to him.

Finally, he was naked and sitting on the edge of the mattress while she stood in front of him.

He reached up and tugged on the metal ring hanging from her collar, bringing her down to him. One arm went around her waist as the other tugged at her leg, pulling it up onto the mattress.

She figured out what he wanted quickly enough and moved to finish the maneuver, settling on his lap with her legs curled around his waist while he remained seated.

He brushed against her with a grunt, pressing against her core with unerring accuracy, his cock slick and throbbing as she began to spiral out of control.

Oliver set the pace with his hands on her waist, rocking them back and forth even as he gritted his teeth together and let out a strangled whine.

Veronica tried to speed up the pace, needing the release, but he suddenly stopped with his hands pressing her down on his lap.

“Not yet,” he growled in her ear. “Not until I say so.”

All she could do was whimper as he held her firmly in place, locked against him.

Mine.

Oliver wasn’t a man given to doing a job halfway. Do it right or don’t do it at all had been a family philosophy passed on down.

He didn’t apply it just to his business.

Veronica’s ass pressed against his thighs, the heat singeing his skin as she struggled to move, caught tight in his arms.

He chuckled at her frantic movements even though he was teetering on the edge himself.

“I’m in charge,” he whispered in her ear.

The answering whine shot down his spine and into his groin.

“Yes. Sir.”

He swore as he started to lose the battle with himself, the urge overriding each scenario he’d thought about during the past few weeks.

“Next time, my place. My toys. And I won’t be as fast.” He forced the words out as he lifted her hips and brought her down on him with a slow, measured pace, biting down hard on his lower lip as she settled on him.

“Yes, Sir. And I’ll make sure to remember this.” She tightened herself around him.

Oliver saw stars for the briefest of seconds before he roared and began pumping into her frantically, setting a pace he knew he couldn’t keep up for long. He had enough presence of mind to slip one hand between them, unerringly finding the slick spot he knew would guarantee success.

Veronica let out a wail as she matched him and kept on going, his simple touch sending her racing toward the precipice.

Suddenly, his world spun and shattered, joined by her keening in his ear.

“Mine,” he gasped with the last of his energy.

“Yours,” she agreed and slumped against him.

Veronica gave a silent prayer of thanks she’d cleaned her bedroom a few days earlier. There wasn’t much sexiness in seeing dirty underwear and discarded T-shirts littering the floor.

She doubted Oliver would have cared in his present state. He lay beside her in the bed, sprawled out on one side and fully naked while she wore her stockings and the corset, albeit it untied and gaping apart.

Small aftershocks shook her as he trailed a finger up her bare thigh. Her heart pounded, and she worried for the first time about the odds of dying from great sex.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, staring at the ceiling.

“For what?” She rolled over and propped herself up on one arm.

“I should have—” Oliver faced her. “I should have told you sooner about Mel. My issues. My—”

She silenced him with a touch of her finger to his lips. “We’re all screwed up in some way—good and bad. The trick is whether we fix it when we see it or not.” She sighed. “You helped me figure out what was wrong with me and led me down the right path. I—” Veronica tapped him on the nose. “I helped you decide to come back out from your self-imposed exile.”

His lips twisted into a smirk. “You think you know me so well.”

“No.” She curled into his arms. “But I believe I’m going to have a lovely time learning it all.”

“You’ll be busy running the café.” He grinned. “I think we’ll need some all-night meetings to hash things out.”

She twisted her head up. “We’ll discuss that later.”

“Yes. Yes, we will.” His hand clasped the metal ring and tugged her closer. “I’m hoping for a long and lengthy talk intermixed with some hands-on lessons.”

“Negotiations shall now commence.” She yawned. “After a nap.” Veronica snuggled closer. “Master.”