She took a deep breath. Did he know how intimidating his silence could be, especially combined with the piercing regard of those eyes? "But what I wondered was what kind of Master you truly are, at the core. What you want for yourself. If you had a permanent submissive, what would she provide for you? Just now, I thought I felt it. You wanted everything. You were reaching down into my soul and I could actually feel your hand closing around it. It was frightening, and overwhelming."
She met his gaze. "Submission, service, was so important to me, the gift I needed to give to the man I loved, to the extent that I became a Mistress to him. No half measures, like you said. In every way he needed, I became that for him. It seems . . . we may be a yin and yang to one another, but whether it's a good mix, or a self-destructive one, I don't know. But I do know it makes me want to say everything and anything to you. Be everything to you. No, I'm not your nurse or maid. But I can be far more than that, all that and anything more. And I think that's what you want. Eventually."
If you learn to trust me, and I learn to trust myself.
She didn't add that, thinking it might be too argumentative. She'd said her peace, probably more than she should have at this juncture. She looked down at their clasped hands, waiting on him. At length, he shifted onto his elbows, reached up and touched her face with the other hand. "Maybe." He sighed. "You're the first woman I've let cross this line with me, Athena."
The revelation amazed, thrilled and slightly terrified her, but he shook his head, telling her he wanted her to keep silent until he finished. "You said it. You have such a deep well when it comes to this that you became a Mistress to your husband, because that was what he needed. It makes you a superlative sub, but you crossed the line into a place you didn't really belong, that didn't meet your heart's desire. And if he's as good a man as I suspect he was to deserve someone like you, he probably saw it at some point, even if he didn't completely get what you were."
Demand as much for yourself.
Her hand tightened on Dale's. They were Roy's words, from a fairly significant moment in the life they'd shared. As if summoned by Dale's comments, the memory attached to them returned as well.
Roy had been pretty sick at that point, and it was one of his bedridden days. She'd brought him a mostly liquid lunch he'd barely touched. She'd thought he was dozing, but then his hand twitched under the light grasp of hers and his gaze turned to her, holding the sorrowful knowledge that their time was getting shorter.
I was able to be everything I am with you, Athena. Man, boy, happy, sad, hero, bastard. Roy had smiled a bit at that. You took me over when I needed to give up the reins, and handed them back at the right moments. You knew me, down to my soul, and you gave me everything. I hope . . . You deserve better than that. It should be a pane of glass, not a mirror. Love is about seeing one another clearly through everything and accepting each other. What you gave me, you should have the chance to have that, too. It's not a closed circle unless you can give as much as you're given. I wish I'd been able to do that for you. But you make me a promise. If the opportunity presents itself, do what I know is so damn hard for you to do. Demand as much for yourself. Demand to be given as much as you're willing to give.
He'd been on some strong painkillers, so she could tell he'd struggled with what he was trying to say. She hadn't really understood what he was saying then, any more than she completely understood Dale's point now, but both sets of words resonated with her.
"A Master is about more than demanding every corner of a sub's soul," Dale said gently. "He needs to be about protecting that soul as well."
"So I can't help with this." She touched his leg, feeling strangely desolate.
"Maybe one day. But not now. I take care of that part of things myself. That's part of who I am, who I need to be. But anytime you want to bring me food, you can knock yourself out."
She smiled uncertainly as he lifted her fingers to his lips, kissed them. Then he squeezed her hand and winked, dispelling the somber mood. "Let's eat that lunch. Fucking you has given me a hell of an appetite."
--
She'd never thought of herself as the type of woman who'd respond to crude talk like that, but the way he said it, so sexy and male, his hot gaze sweeping over her, put her already broken antenna into another spin. He didn't let her put on any clothes. Instead, he had her bring the lunch back to the bed and ate naked with her, feeding her bits of sandwich, reaching out to touch her breasts or telling her to keep her legs open so he could see her pussy as he consumed the food she'd made him. He kept that Master-sub dynamic so out front and center between them, such that the unsettling topics he'd raised were beyond her concentration. As a result, she was able to quell the uneasy sense of paradigm shift and just enjoy being with him. She'd deal with the rest on her own time.
He'd told her he expected her to build up her stamina, that he'd want her again. It didn't take long for him to prove it. After lunch, he pushed her to her back without preamble and stretched out between her legs. With his strong hands curled around her thighs and one foot braced on the floor, he put his mouth on her cunt and brought her to the brink of another pleading, writhing climax in no time. When she was so close to release the heat of his breath on her quivering tissues might have pushed her over, he rolled over onto his back and made her turn so she straddled his face, her knees pressed into the bedding above his shoulders. He ordered her to take his cock in her mouth while he resumed feasting on her pussy. The command to come came with her lips stretched over him, vibrating against his cock as she screamed. She shuddered through the aftershocks while still frenetically sucking him. He kept licking and teasing her well past her climax, not stopping until she brought him to release as well.
The man was diabolical. By the time he decided he was finished between her legs, she was quivering with renewed arousal, as if he hadn't wrung two extreme climaxes out of her. And that was apparently the state in which he intended her to remain.
For some Masters, that was a vital part of the turn-on. While a lot of men were done once both partners found satisfaction, Dale obviously liked to take a sub through the whole roller coaster multiple times. But instead of letting her get off the ride at the logical ending point, he took her past that and hit the brake at the peak of that first huge hill, right before the thrilling fall. It was enough to make a woman hit him with a blunt object, except for the fact she'd wait until the end of time for him to do it all again.
It was late afternoon when she dressed, collected her picnic basket and prepared to depart. He insisted on walking her to her car. She tried to dissuade him from it, not wanting him to go that far using the crutches. The look he gave her was one he'd probably used on SEAL recruits. At some point, she was going to prove to him she wouldn't be so easily cowed, but she wasn't going to rock that boat today.
Especially when he rewarded her by rocking her world a wholly different way. At the BMW, he pressed her back against the car door and kissed her so thoroughly, she felt the tingle all the way to the soles of her feet. He took his time with it, drawing it out such that the sun had dropped another notch in the sky when he finally released her. His last words, breathed against her ear, merely confirmed his agenda to drive her to distraction.
"I'm going to be so fucking hard this week, remembering how hot and wet you are right now. No more touching yourself when it's not my command. You save it all for your Master."
"When will I see you again?" she asked. Their fingers were laced together and her heart beat a little faster as he lifted her knuckles to his lips, brushed his mouth over them.
"I'm glad you came to see me, but for our next visit, you wait for my call." He stroked a hand over her hair, his mouth softening as he gazed down at her. "I have to handle some prior commitments, but you'll hear from me in a few days. I promise."
--
She was a busy woman with many demands upon her time. Work, meetings at home, offsite and in the office. Yet there were certain things for which there was no dis
traction large enough. Dale Rousseau was one of those things. Several days later, her focus still wasn't on her responsibilities but on Dale's hands, his eyes, voice, the powerful body and, most importantly, the way he made her feel. Her skin felt exposed and tingling, the friction of her clothes just exacerbating it.
She was as besotted as she'd been as an eighteen-year-old, when she'd met Roy and developed the crush that would ultimately result in falling head over heels in love with him and into a life together.
Troubled by the thought, she rose from her desk. She'd been staring into space--again. When she moved to gaze out the window at the New Orleans business district, her fingers were twitching where they lay against the base of her throat, her other arm wrapped around herself. The first couple of days, she'd told herself her agitated state had to do with how new this all was to her, like a first love, but each day her feelings were more out of control. The waiting was agony. Dale Rousseau was turning her into a basket case.
She was more disciplined than this. She was a middle-aged woman, for pity's sake, not a teenager. Truly irritated with herself, she went back to her desk. She glanced at her accounting software on the screen and noted Ellen had flagged the charitable giving ratio to profits in the first quarter. They had a surplus, which meant she could give a little more to one of their existing charities or do a onetime donation.
No big surprise, Dale's shelter was the first thing that crossed her mind. After their lunch and before she'd left, he'd taken her to the section of the junkyard where the kennels were. The runs could be opened to allow the dogs to play in a communal area when he wasn't letting them explore the junkyard. He'd landscaped around the area with a wealth of fragrant bushes that helped minimize the kennel odors. He and other volunteers for the shelter, some of them fellow SEALs, had poured the concrete pads and installed the necessary plumbing so he could keep the runs clean.
They'd also built a small supply building for food and other necessities, and he'd mentioned their plans to build a bigger building, perhaps one with an indoor exercise and training area, an examination room where a vet could visit and examine the animals on site. But her questions had revealed they didn't have a capital fund at this point. Most of the donations given went to operations, like vaccinations, getting the dogs spayed or neutered before adoption and some efforts to publicize the animals up for adoption.
Ed Senior, the former owner of the place, was the father of a SEAL with whom Dale had served. Eddie had died in action. Though Dale didn't say so, Athena had a feeling it was the same mission where Dale lost his leg. During his last years as a SEAL, and then through his retirement, Dale had checked in on Ed Senior, helping him with the maintenance and management of the dog shelter. The old man had stopped operating the junkyard as a business about five years ago, except for the occasional hobbyist or mechanic looking for an old car part. When he'd died a few months ago, he'd left the place to Dale.
Dale had moved onto the property and taken over the dog portion of it. There were a total of fifty dogs there now. Adoptions and donations were coordinated by word of mouth, and most of those came from the military community and their contacts.
Athena was very good at nonprofit management, and had helped improve the operations and fund-raising of a variety of New Orleans charities, first as a volunteer, and then later as a sitting member of several of their active boards. Sitting back in her chair, she considered the potential of the place, especially with a man like Dale running it. Their relationship was so new, she wasn't sure how Dale would react to her advice, but increasing the publicity would improve funds as well as adoptions.
If the board voted on it, that tidy surplus from this quarter's earnings, plus a hundred thousand from the discretionary funds she controlled through a foundation she and Roy had established for such efforts, would give Dale more options.
She buzzed Ellen, asking her to get her banker on the phone. Once her admin patched him through, she initiated the paperwork with him. She asked him to deliver the first check to Dale, provide him notice of the account and how it was set up. She wanted to give Dale a call, let him know about it herself, but he'd been pretty clear, telling her in that unmistakable Master voice he would contact her. Oh well. If he called her before the banker reached out to him, she could tell him. Otherwise, it would be a nice surprise for him. She couldn't wait to see what he thought.
Nodding, pleased with the decision, she returned to work in a better frame of mind. She could do this. She could handle the type of relationship she was cultivating with Dale and keep her life in perspective.
Balanced.
NINE
When she arrived at the office the next morning, she came down the hall on brisk heels, her mind already on the things she needed to do. Since she'd be meeting with the board at lunch, she was wearing her pearls and dark suit, anticipating her usual power struggles with Mel and the other handful of members who wished she would retire from the board and tend to her gardening. Maybe Mel would be better due to their last interaction, and the others would fall in line behind him. She didn't put a lot of stock in it improving Larry's behavior, however.
Ellen was at her desk as usual, but she had an odd expression on her face. When Athena entered her reception area, she rose, looking flustered. "Ah, Mrs. Summers. You have a visitor this morning . . ."
As she glanced past Ellen, she was startled to see Dale. He'd risen when Ellen had and now stood squarely facing her. He was wearing his boots and a dark T-shirt tucked into belted jeans. It seemed to be his preferred fashion statement, one she personally felt worked on him anywhere. The mere sight of him made everything flip-flop, like she was sitting naked on his bed again, doing his bidding, doing any unspeakable, incredible thing he demanded.
The fact those blue-green eyes were cool, direct--a Master's eyes--didn't mitigate that feeling in the slightest. His body language broadcast it as well. Surely he wouldn't act inappropriately at her place of business. Or would he? As her pulse ramped up, she told herself not to be ridiculous. She was in control of this situation. They weren't Master-sub at the moment, no matter that his very presence made her feel like they were.
"Dale," she said, summoning the appropriate smile, which of course felt inordinately fake. "What an unexpected pleasure. Did you--"
"We need to talk about this." He lifted a thick envelope that displayed her bank's logo.
Though his tone was blandly courteous, he didn't smile. Before she could think of another polite response, or invite him into her office, he'd taken a step forward, closed his fingers on her elbow and was directing her there. Just like that, he'd taken control of the situation. Catching the bemused expression on Ellen's face, she managed to speak with a calmness she didn't feel. "Hold my calls, Ellen."
"Yes ma'am."
Once inside her office, he released her elbow, but only to close her door. She moved to her desk, pivoted to stand behind her chair and face him. In hindsight, she wasn't sure why she'd chosen to put such a barricade between them, but he recognized it as a shield, his gaze narrowing upon her. "Come out here, in front of me."
His tone had sharpened like a knife, the eyes even cooler now. She lifted her chin. "What if I say no? You didn't strike me as the type of man intimidated by a businesswoman."
"Does anything about me suggest I'm intimidated, Athena?"
Not a damn thing.
He bared his teeth in a smile, her expression apparently giving him the answer to the question. "If you refuse to come out from behind the desk, I have two possible responses. One, I leave and we're done, because if you say no and mean it, that says you're not ready for what you claim to want from me."
Her reaction to his walking out the door was strong enough to make her put tented fingers on the back of the chair to brace herself. Images of everything going back to exactly what they were like before their first meeting at her house flipped through her mind like one of those cartoon books, the ones where the characters moved at the pace of the riffled pages. Ever
y page a slight movement, so the frames helped the character move forward . . . or backward.
She'd always thought the painstaking work of the artists, their passion, had to be akin to monks illuminating manuscripts, one perfect letter at a time. Did they ever recognize that connection themselves, or was it just tedious? Maybe the monks had felt the same way. Maybe they hadn't seen it the way those who admired it did. As a complex process, step by step, to create something amazing.
"And behind door number two?" she said, noting her voice had a strained note to it. His gaze caressed her face, even as his expression remained uncompromising.
"I come behind that desk and get you. Whatever you imagine, I promise you will not like that option. You're not going to yank my chain and not get bitten."
She didn't know what he meant, but for some reason she didn't want to ask him to clarify. "I'm not afraid of you."
"Yeah, you are. Not in the way you mean, though. You know I'd never do anything to truly harm you, and I'd break the fucking arm of anyone who did." The different tone sent a ripple through her. "You're afraid of what I'm doing to you, who you become when you're with me. Come out from behind the desk. Now."
She obeyed. She wasn't sure what to do, if she should lean her hips casually on the front of her desk like a cat pretending she'd meant to fall off a railing, when she'd really lost her footing and ended up where she hadn't expected. He took the decision from her, surprising her by closing his hands over hers in a gentle way. Her slim fingers looked small inside his grip. She'd missed that. Roy had been a big man, and she'd always liked the difference in their sizes, the way it could make her feel so feminine.