Break Me Down

  “Gee, thanks, dude. Way to make me feel better.” Gibson walked to the window that looked out on downtown Dallas, waiting for the familiar dread to take him over at the thought, but surprisingly, very little welled up. Maybe exhaustion trumped anxiety. Or maybe he just trusted that Nicolette wouldn’t say anything.

  “I’m really not trying to give you a hard time.” There was a storm rolling into downtown, but in the window’s reflection, Gibson could see Kade perch on the edge of the conference table behind him, expression going from amused to concerned. “I get it, you know.”

  Gibson crossed his arms, staring out at the dark clouds that seemed to be hovering right at the edge of the city. “Get what?”

  “How hard it is to accept what you are. I’ve been there.”

  Gibson scoffed. “Right. Mr. All-Powerful CEO struggles to admit he’s all-powerful in the bedroom, too. It’s not the same thing, man.”

  “Right,” Kade said, sarcasm entering his tone. “How could I possibly understand? I never once considered that maybe I get off on hurting the woman I love because I had a stepfather who beat my mother and treated us like shit. I never had one second of angst over the thought that maybe I was just like that son of a bitch and putting nice, pretty wrapping paper on it.”

  Gibson stilled and then turned around. “What?”

  Kade’s expression was stoic but his eyes fierce. “And after what happened to me in high school, you don’t think I thought about how that messed with me, too? What if that sick fuck had something to do with who I am? That disgusts me even more than daddy dearest.” Kade raked a rough hand through his hair. “I’ve done rape play with Tess. I’m only telling you that because she’d trust you to hear it. But what do you think that did to me the first time I had that inclination?”

  Gibson blinked, too stunned to speak. He’d always seen his older brother as this force. The guy had been bullied and quiet in high school, but once he’d left home, he’d become this ultimate bastion of confidence. Gib looked up to him—even though he’d never admit it to his face except under duress or a headlock. He never imagined that Kade had struggled with his dominance. If anything, that had seemed to save the guy, had turned him into who he was always supposed to be.

  Kade blew out a breath. “I get that admitting you’re submissive is different. But it’s not that different. You think you’re afraid of how others are going to see you. But I bet if you really think about it, that’s not really what you’re worried about. That’s just the PR guy in you putting a veneer on the real shit. The real shit is what you’re going to think of yourself. Like, how am I going to look in the mirror afterward and own the man who’s in that reflection?

  “For me, I have to own that I’m a sadist. That I love Tess with everything I have but that I get off on being rough with her. The key is finding someone who fits those things about you. Tessa likes what I have to offer her. We don’t judge because we’re two jagged pieces that smooth out when we’re together. It fits. It’s right. And if you have that with Sam, you’re never going to forgive yourself for walking away from it.”

  Gibson stared at the floor, his teeth pressing hard against each other. The words hit him like bullets, tearing holes into him. Fits. Right. Sam.

  Kade stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “Right now you can look in the mirror and say—yeah, I’m the guy who kneels for no one. Bully for me. But what if that also means you’re the guy who had a shot at the perfect woman, the woman who he could be completely and utterly himself with, and then fucked it up over fear and pride?”

  Gibson groaned.

  Kade gave his shoulder one final squeeze. “Don’t fuck this one up, bro. You deserve some happiness. Let yourself have it for a change.”

  With that, Kade released him and strolled out the conference room, leaving Gibson alone with the oncoming storm and his thunderous thoughts.

  Gibson turned to the reflection in the window again, staring himself down. Who was the man staring back?

  Did he really know?

  Did he want to?

  Chapter 12

  Sam was making a Tom Collins and chatting up a girl who’d been waiting on her date when the thick envelope was dropped in front of her, her name neatly printed on it in black ink. She turned toward Angie, who’d dropped it off on her way to fill an order. “Hey, what’s this?”

  Angie grabbed two empty martini glasses and flipped them onto the bar. “Herb said someone dropped it off for you at the door. Didn’t have time to bring it in.”

  Sam frowned and slid the Tom Collins to the guy who’d ordered it. He tossed money onto the counter without a word and headed back to his friends. Sam took care of the cash and then picked up the envelope, flipped it over.

  “Maybe it’s a secret admirer,” the girl Sam had been talking to offered.

  Sam smirked. “Probably an overdue bill. But will you excuse me for a second?”

  The girl waved her off. “Go ahead. You don’t have to keep me company just because my date is punctuality challenged.”

  Sam made sure the girl was all set with a refill and then headed to the small office where she could get a little quiet. She tore the seal on the envelope and pulled out the folded sheets inside. The first page looked to be a printed-out weekly calendar. On it were appointments and addresses. Meeting with advertising rep at the Dallas Morning News. Lunch at Meddlesome Moth. Gym. Conference call.

  “What in the hell?” she murmured, unable to make sense of it.

  She flipped to the next page, and her eyes scanned the top lines. Her lips parted. She read the title again.

  Proposed Contract between Mistress Samantha and submissive gibson

  Her butt hit the desk, her knees deciding they weren’t going to work anymore. Her gaze jumped all over the page, her thoughts moving too fast for her brain to catch up and focus. She had to take a deep breath to bring herself to the start and read it through.

  Scene: Sub has agreed to engage in a scene involving planned nonconsent. Because of the risks with this type of play, the following parameters have been arranged with the submissive by Master Grant Waters:

  The safe word red will be honored during all parts of the scene except where noted below.

  Master Grant will be present during the scene either in person or via video and will act as dungeon monitor to step in if needed.

  Mistress will choose the duration, methods, content, and audience for the scene.

  Hard limits for sub gibson: no permanent scarring, no sexual contact with anyone other than Mistress Samantha, his brother and sister-in-law cannot be present at the Ranch during the scene, he cannot be captured at work.

  Captured? Holy fuck. Sam’s tongue pressed to the back of her teeth. This was what they’d talked about. This was the force scene. She scanned downward, looking for the exception mentioned in the list.

  Safe word exception: Sub wants no safe word before the exposure part of the scene. He will be forced into submission in front of others at the Ranch no matter the protests. Unless he is physically at risk or injured, no dungeon monitor will step in.

  Blood rushed through Sam’s ears. No safe word. Gibson wanted her to out him and gave himself no recourse to push the emergency button. The trust that involved floored her, turned her on, and scared the hell out of her. What if he freaked out? What if it really hit a point where he changed his mind and she forced him and put him through some kind of psychological meltdown?

  God. It was a lot of responsibility.

  Sub’s schedule is attached. He is ready whenever Mistress is ready. Sub has approved of friends Pike Ryland and Ian Foster to assist Mistress with his capture. Phone numbers are included in the attachment.

  Wow. Gibson had told two of his best friends not just that he was submissive but that he was going to act out a capture fantasy with her. More than anything else, that made tears well in her eyes. He was doi
ng it. Being the brave badass she knew him to be. Yes, he was asking her to force him, but he’d already made a choice. The man who hadn’t wanted anyone to know had told his friends about himself, about her. And not just told them but trusted them enough to let them see him at his most vulnerable.

  She pressed the pages to her chest and breathed that in, let it really hit her what all of this meant. This could still go wrong. He could always back out. He could freak out and hate it. He could resent her afterward. But deep down in her gut she knew if she could get this right, it could go so very well. He trusted her.

  Now she needed to trust herself that she was tough enough to pull it off. To be what he needed. To be what she knew herself to be.

  She turned to the last page and recognized the neat print of Gibson’s no-nonsense handwriting.

  Sam,

  I miss you. Have missed you since I walked out your door. I never feel more alive than when I’m with you. I’m tired of living in the dark and want to step into the light with you. You are the smartest, sexiest, and strongest woman I’ve ever met. You should never be anyone’s secret and you will no longer be mine. I want to earn the right to be the lucky son of a bitch who gets to kneel at your feet and love you. I don’t care what other people think anymore. I care what you think. That’s all that matters. I want you. I need you. I’m lost without you, woman.

  Now, will you kidnap me and make me pay for being such a dumbass? I would be much obliged.

  Yours,

  Gib

  Sam laughed even as the tears streamed down her face and this bone-deep rightness moved through her. She ran her fingers over the page, feeling the indentations his pen had left.

  The door to the office swung open, startling Sam, and Angie skidded to a halt. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in here. Wait, are you okay?”

  Sam wiped her face and grabbed a tissue out of the box on the desk for her nose. “I’m good.”

  Angie tilted her head, eyebrow lifting. “You sure? Looking kind of rough, there, boss.” She glanced at the papers in Sam’s hand. “It’s not a Dear John letter, is it?”

  Sam grinned. “Not even close.”

  It’s a Dear Mistress.

  And it was time to reply.

  Chapter 13

  Gibson had stared at the clock on his bedside table until it’d clicked over to midnight. It’d been a week since he’d sent the letter to Sam. All he’d gotten from her was a text. You’ve given me a lot to think about. He hadn’t heard a word since.

  He’d been on edge all week, wondering if she’d show up at any second, wondering if she was around the next corner. Somehow that had been equal parts terrifying and painfully arousing. He’d gone out to dinner with Pike one night, and he’d barely been able to hold a conversation because he’d been wondering, Is tonight the night? Was Pike there to help Sam take him down?

  Pike, of course, had pretended he was completely oblivious to Gibson’s jumpiness, but had given him a wry smile every now and then like he was up to something. Fucking Pike. He’d never tease Gibson about being submissive. The guy had figured him out a long time ago anyway. But he sure wasn’t above messing with Gibson’s head.

  But nothing had happened that night. And nothing had happened since. The schedule he’d given Sam had ended tonight. Time was up. Week expired. She’d changed her mind. Maybe he’d been asking too much. Maybe she wanted a guy who wouldn’t need to be forced into it. Or maybe she didn’t think he could handle it.

  Frankly, he still wasn’t sure he could handle it. Force could be a turn-on for him in theory, but that wasn’t what this was about. He knew he needed that element to have a shot at this. He wished he were in a mental place where he could walk into the common room at the Ranch with Sam’s collar around his neck, proud as you please. He wanted it down to his marrow. But when he thought about actually taking the steps to do it, the anxiety gripped him like cold, knotted fingers squeezing his heart. Like when he was a kid and tried to jump off the high board at the community pool. He wanted it. Could picture it. Could see himself plummeting through the air. But every time he got up there, he couldn’t take that last step and leap.

  Finally, in an asshole-big-brother moment, Kade had shoved him off. Gibson had screamed loud enough to draw the attention of everyone by the pool, including a girl he’d had a crush on, and had hit the water with the grace of a rhinoceros.

  He’d refused to speak to his brother for a week afterward.

  But he’d never been afraid of the high board again. Two years later, he’d joined the high school diving team and had been a top diver.

  As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to be pushed again. That was the only way to slip through a crack in that mental block that had thwarted him for so long.

  But Sam wasn’t going to do it. He’d fucked things up. He’d missed his chance.

  With a groan he rolled over in bed, scooted Sasha’s big, furry self over, and tugged the blanket over himself. He hadn’t gotten sleep in a week, but his body was succumbing to the exhaustion now. He couldn’t think about this anymore. He needed to let go, to move on, to accept.

  Right. Who was he kidding? That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. So he did the only thing he knew to do to make the thoughts quiet: he played Mario Brothers in his head like that kid he used to be, watched the little mushrooms get crushed, and fell into a deep, dream-filled sleep.

  Which meant a few hours later, he didn’t hear the lock on his kitchen door turn or the hushed voices soothing Sasha or the footsteps that surrounded his bed. He didn’t hear anything at all. Not until six whispered words brushed against his ear. “Hello, there, gorgeous. Time to play.”

  Gibson’s eyes flew open at the familiar feminine voice, the sound of Sam mixing in with the dream he was having. He blinked in the dark, disoriented. Unsure whether he was still in the dream or not. But the blinking didn’t help. Blackness enveloped him. Something was over his eyes. “Sam?”

  Fingers pressed hard against his lips. “Shh. Alert a neighbor and you’ll pay for it.”

  Sam’s voice held threat despite her conversational tone. He tried to reach out for her, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. Metal jangled. He was cuffed. His heartbeat picked up speed. Oh, shit. It was happening.

  Anxiety surged, all systems going on alert. “Sam . . . wait.”

  “Get him up.” Some cool edge he’d never heard from Sam had entered her voice. “He’s a risk here with the neighbors so close.”

  Rough hands grabbed him. Big hands. “You heard the lady. Time to go.”

  Pike.

  Which meant Foster was the other guy grabbing him.

  Oh, fuck.

  They didn’t give him a chance to do anything but cooperate, his hands bound and his legs still half-asleep. They hauled him out of bed, the world feeling like it flipped over in his head at the sudden movement. His bare feet hit the floor. The instinct to fight back welled in him. These were his friends. He’d agreed to this, but he knew what this meant—reality was setting in. Fight or flight beat through him.

  When the guys tried to make him walk, he jerked out their grip. “Get your hands off me. Let me talk to Sam.”

  The guys didn’t grab him again, but a quick slap hit his face. “I didn’t say you could talk. And you certainly can’t speak to my guys like that.”

  The slap wasn’t hard, but it stunned him because he hadn’t seen it coming. And his two best friends had just witnessed him getting hit by a girl. His face burned and it had nothing to do with the slap. What had he been thinking when he agreed to this?

  There was some rustling around, but he couldn’t pinpoint who was moving where.

  “And you’re not going to need these where we’re going.” Sam grabbed the waistband of his pajama pants and yanked down.

  “Sam, wait, no.” He tried to reach for her, stop her. He wasn’t wearing anythi
ng beneath. But she knocked away his bound hands and dragged his pants down.

  Cool air hit him and embarrassment burned up his spine. He put his cuffed hands in front of himself. It’s wasn’t like he and his friends had a high level of modesty. Pike and Foster used to share women, so they had seen each other naked. And Gibson had watched Foster scene before at the Ranch. But never had he been exposed in front of them.

  “Mistress, please.”

  “Begging. Better.” She grabbed the chain between his cuffs and lifted. “Move your hands. No hiding.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold. And jolted when she cupped his balls, as if measuring if he was enough for her. She gave them a little tug, which made his cock take notice. Blood rushed downward.

  “Yep, this’ll do just fine.” She released him, leaving him there naked with a growing erection. In front of his friends. “Now turn around and bend over so I can see what else you have to offer.”

  “Red.” The word tumbled out, landed hard between them before he even knew it had passed his lips.

  There was a long pause. His heart beat wildly in his throat as he waited for her to end this. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do this. He was failing her. But it was too much. This had to stop.

  But the blindfold didn’t come off, the cuffs didn’t get unfastened. She grabbed his waning erection in her hand and squeezed. “I said, turn around and bend over. Red doesn’t apply here.”

  He winced. “I can’t, Sam. Please. I’m serious.”

  “Do it or I’ll call the boys back in to make you.”

  Call them back in? She’d sent them out? Breath gusted out of him.

  She put her hands to his jaw, holding his face in place. “You said you would trust me, Andrews. Start doing it.”

  He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. “Sorry, mistress. I’m trying.”

  “Not very hard.” She kept ahold of him, her voice low and close. “All that matters right now is me. Keep focused on that. You are here to please me. It’s your only goddamned mission. One thing. You got that?”