In His Cuffs(11)

She fought with the tight shirt, so he stepped in. "Sorry, I can't stand  there and watch you struggle," he said, taking the material from her.

Though her eyes widened, she didn't protest.

He helped her into the shirt and smoothed it into place.

She kept her fingertips on his forearm as she slipped into her shoes.

"Make me a promise, Mr Tomlinson?"                       
       
           



       

He inclined his head.

"Don't wear that armband to work."

"Too much of a reminder about who you really are and where you belong?"

She betrayed her inner thoughts by looking at the floor before  unblinkingly meeting his gaze. "The HM stands for House Monitor, not His  Majesty," she said saucily. "I want you to remember that."

David extrapolated from her statement. "No authority over you outside of the Den?"

"None."

He traced her collar. "Then don't wear this again until you're ready to cede authority for your sexual satisfaction to me."

Her sweet, sexy lips parted. Then she blinked, breaking the momentary  spell she'd held him under. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr  Tomlinson."

"Likewise, Ms Carpenter."

Without another word, she turned and exited the room before closing the door with a decisive snick.

It bothered him that she'd vanished before he could ensure she was  completely okay. He'd hoped to spend a few minutes caring for her, even  talking. He wished she'd waited long enough to at least have a few sips  of water.

Christ. She might not have needed a few minutes of aftercare, but he needed to give them.

In the past, he'd been accused of being relentless. He didn't take time  off for vacations, and had caused trouble on his honeymoon when his  bride had caught him on his laptop in the middle of the night. During  stressful times, he'd get in two workouts. He didn't require much sleep  and he had boundless energy. He saw each day as a task list and he  methodically checked things off and kept moving.

Until Maggie, he'd had no urge to soothe a woman he'd beaten. Lack of cuddling and intimacy had decimated his marriage.

By the time he'd pulled his boots back on, washed his toys, packed his  bag, collected the leash and returned to find Damien in the sunroom,  she'd already caught the shuttle bus back to Winter Park.

"It's not like you to mix business and BDSM," Damien observed, sipping  from a glass of mineral water, enhanced with a twist of lime.

David didn't need long to think about that. "If the woman in question wasn't Maggie, it wouldn't have happened tonight."

Damien waited.

"Until now I've never before wanted to paddle someone who reports to me."

"I can understand the temptation."

A house sub accepted David's bag and left them alone without ever saying a word.

"How did it go?" Damien asked.

David frowned. "You tell me. Obviously you saw her before she left, if you knew she was gone."

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask her yourself," Damien said after what seemed to be a considerable silence.

"Fair enough. She was okay, though?"

"It doesn't appear you made her cry."

"Maybe I'm losing my touch."

Damien shrugged. "Or she's tougher than we gave her credit for. At any rate, you needn't worry about her, I'd say."

David knew he'd get nothing more out of Damien. That was something  confounding and reassuring about the Den's owner. The man knew  everything and revealed no one's confidences. While it could be  frustrating, it was reassuring.

From the corner of his eye, David saw Brandy put up her hand to push away a man. "Brandy may need us to intervene."

Damien looked.

Niles, another House Monitor, had obviously already seen what was  happening and had moved towards the pair. David wasn't surprised at the  other man's quick action, but he was surprised to see Niles at the Den.  He hadn't attended many public functions since the death of his  beautiful wife and sub.

"I'll handle it," Damien said, following David's gaze. "If you're back  on duty, the patio needs an extra set of eyes." He turned away then  paused and looked back. "Unless you require a little more time to  collect yourself?"

"Not at all." David welcomed the responsibilities. Having something to  do suited his personality better than worrying or fretting over Maggie.  He was the type of man who shoved aside mental and emotional  entanglements. Or he had until Maggie had fled without them having the  serious talk they needed.

Confounded woman.

"That's what I expected." With a brisk nod, Damien left.

David took up his post outside near the speaker. Thankfully, Evan C was  on hiatus, or whatever a band break was called. David wasn't sure how  much more his eardrums could take of that racket. And some people  considered it music. Took all kinds.

As it was Ladies' Night, there were dozens of subs inside and outside,  all shapes and sizes, all of them appealing in some way, from soft  curves to lean lines. Some women he'd seen before. From their behaviour,  others were obvious first-timers.                       
       
           



       

None of them interested him.

It went deeper than the fact he'd recently had sex. But that was where it had to end.

David was a man of his word He intended to keep his end of the deal he'd  made tonight with Maggie. He didn't fraternise. He kept his  professional boundaries firm so that no employee would try to curry  favour. Each week he signed pay cheques, and he didn't want anyone  worrying that if they rebuffed an advance or didn't invite him to a  party that their job was on the line. Everyone knowing where he stood  made life simpler.

Since he didn't socialise much, he spent considerable time by himself.

Not that he minded.

It had taken him a while to admit he was probably better off alone. His ex-wife had called him selfish.

When he'd got married, he'd thought it was forever. He'd never wanted a  divorce. Worse, he hadn't seen it coming. One day, six years ago, he'd  arrived home from work, hours later than he'd planned. A plate of cold  food had been sitting on the table. All of Sandra's belongings had been  gone.

It had taken that for him to admit he had an obsessive personality. His  single-minded focus on what he wanted excluded everything else in his  life.

In the settlement, he'd instructed his lawyer to give Sandra everything  she asked for. She'd unselfishly given him six years of her life-she  deserved financial compensation as well as the happiness he hadn't  provided for her.

He wasn't bitter, he was just wiser. Avoiding relationships was better for the woman, if not for him.

Allowing himself the freedom to think about Maggie for even five minutes  would be a bad decision. They'd work together until her employment  contract was up, and that would be the extent of their future  involvement.

Still, he fingered the handcuffs hanging from his belt loop.

Despite his most powerful intentions, he couldn't help but think about tightening them around her wrists.

He wanted her on her knees and in his cuffs.





Chapter Four





Stark raving mad.

Thoughts of David Tomlinson were going to drive Maggie insane.

Instead of getting out of her car and walking the few blocks to the  Market Street offices, she sat there staring at the Rocky Mountains.  Even the stunning sight of bright sunshine splashing on the distant  peaks couldn't banish images of David from her mind.

Ever since her father had passed when she was ten, Maggie had prided  herself on her predictable, responsible behaviour. She'd helped her  mother with cooking and cleaning. Maggie had learnt to set an alarm  clock and get herself to school. She'd secured a college scholarship and  had worked as a waitress so she'd never have to ask her struggling  mother for anything.

Even when she was ill, Maggie showed up to work on time to unlock the  door. She didn't trust her mother to do it. When ideas were flowing,  Gloria often stayed up all night. Even in the best of circumstances,  time seemed to be a vague concept to her.

A number of people had keys to the office. David was almost always  early. Anyone could open up, but Maggie felt it was her responsibility  to be there for the official start of business. So why was she still in  the vehicle at ten past eight, fingers curled around the steering wheel?

In her typical fashion, she forced herself to face facts. She was stalling.

At the Den, she'd been filled with bravado. She had promised herself she  could strip down, accept a spanking from her boss and finish with him  fucking her. Why not? As she'd said, they were both adults. The incident  was an interlude in their lives and had no bearing on their work  relationship.

When she was dressed, looking at him with his armband and bare chest, she had realised she'd been lying to herself.

The scene had been scorching hot.