Under His Control, page 1
UNDER HIS CONTROL
By Lynn Richards
Under His ControlCopyright 2012
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WARNING: This book is intended for mature audiences only.
“Damn, damn, damn.”
Rebecca surveyed the damage she had caused. Oh, not to her beat-up, dented-in, on-its-last-legs Nissan, but to some over indulgent, brown nosing executive’s midnight black BMW. She could have sworn she had enough clearance before backing out of the parking space in the underground garage. The long white streak down the perfection of the beamer’s paint job said differently.
“Damn, damn, damn.”
She sat in her car, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. What should she do? Leave a note? Run away – that’s the one she voted for – or go to the security booth on the bottom floor like the law-abiding, good-girl citizen that she was? Taking extra care to continue backing up (fat lot of good that did her now!) she cleared the space and put her car in drive. As she drove around and around the parking structure heading toward the exit, she thought of the money she had just earned. It wouldn’t even begin to cover the repair bill. She sighed, knowing she would have to report the accident to her insurance company and face the higher premiums down the road. She just didn’t have the cash right now to pay for the damage.
Rebecca worked as a free-lance typist for one of the larger law firms in downtown Atlanta. She’d worked there as a legal secretary for a year before deciding it was time to take charge of her life and go back to school to earn her teaching degree; something she’d always wanted to do. At least that’s what she told herself and anyone else who asked.
Luckily, the firm allowed her to work around her class schedule. It was difficult continuing to work there, but it was a necessary evil. Even with student loans it was proving harder and harder to keep up with her bills. If she lost this job, she would be living on rice and beans and the occasional peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Reaching the security booth, she pulled over to the side and exited her car.
“Hi, darling,” the man behind the glass greeted her. “What’s shaking?”
Rebecca smiled. There was no point taking out her crappy day on him. “More than I want to, Larry. I, um, had a little accident on the top level.”
The man’s brow crinkled in a frown. “Are you okay, Becky?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Not even a scratch on Horace.” She refused to give her car a feminine name. It continued to let her down, just like a man. She chewed on her fingernail before continuing. “Uh, umm, there’s a black BMW that might not have fared so well.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Well, shit.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“I’m going to have to call this in. I’m sorry.” His voice was so sympathetic it almost made her cry.
“I know. I’ll just wait over here.” She walked a couple of feet away and sat on the curb feeling like a convict waiting to be transported to jail.
Quinton Sanders pressed the pause button on his dictaphone when his intercom sounded.
“Sir, security is on the line for you.”
He frowned, hating to be disturbed in the middle of composing a brief. His secretary knew that. But then again, she also knew when someone, or something, needed his personal attention. Unlike one of the other partners in the firm, he had a cordial, if not friendly relationship with his secretary. She didn’t cause him to erupt like Mt. Vesuvius at the drop of hat. But then he’d actually hired a woman who could spell ‘brief’ instead of dressing that way.
“Sanders,” he barked into the speaker phone.
“Sir, this is security in the parking garage. I’ve got a small situation here.” The man hesitated as if he didn’t want to say anything more.
“Spit it out, Larry, I don’t have all day.” He wanted to complete the brief before he left for the weekend. Not that he was in any hurry to get home to his empty apartment. Damn, what was the point in making money hand over fist when you had no one to share it with? His jaw tightened. Not so long ago he thought he had found that someone.
“It appears that your car has been, umm, slightly damaged.”
“What!” He straightened in his leather backed chair. That car was his baby. He’d restored it himself on those rare long weekends he spent at the lake. This was the first day he’d driven it into the city. “What happened and who did it?” He’d have the culprit’s head on a platter before nightfall.
“I think it’s just a small scratch, sir. And it was Ms. Dawson.”
Well, that took the wind out of his sails, and put the starch in his pants. At the mention of the woman’s name, his dick stood up and took immediate notice.
More than a month ago, the little brown haired witch had run away from him. It looked as if fate was giving him a second chance.
It was about damn time.
“Get someone to escort her to my office.” Now that she was so close to being his once again, he would take no chance on her escaping.
As soon as he disconnected the call, he gathered up the notes and court documents he’d been reviewing and shoved them in a drawer. Thank God he was ahead of schedule on the brief. If not, he knew he’d stand a good chance of being disbarred for failing to represent his client’s best interests. He had other plans for the next few hours.
Pressing the intercom button, he said, “Sally, come in here.”
Rebecca’s conscience weighed heavily on her as she was escorted through the fifteen story building. She looked down at the Jimmy Hendrix t-shirt she wore. She was so not dressed to be frog marched past the employee cubicles of the Greyson, Sanders, and Delacorte law firm of Atlanta, Georgia.
Since starting to free-lance for the firm, she rarely saw any of the people who had been her co-workers. She preferred to drop off her work to Tara, the paralegal for the big man himself, Noah Greyson. She usually snuck in the back door so to speak to avoid meeting anyone.
Anyone in particular that is.
Maybe she could appeal to Tara to appeal to her boss to get her out of this mess. Whose car had she scratched anyway that required an escort – an armed escort – to their office? Why hadn’t they just called the police? She chewed on her fingernail again suddenly getting a very bad feeling.
Following her silent companion into the elevator she tried to think of a way out of this. The most obvious choice was to confess, it had been her fault after all, and hand over her insurance card and face the consequences later. The other option would be to hand over her life savings, all three thousand, one hundred and ninety-three dollars, in the hopes that it would cover the damage. That would mean not taking classes in the fall and delaying her graduation yet again.
The ding of the elevator sounded suspiciously like the tolling of the bell in the Edgar Allen Poe stories she’d read as a child.
The guard motioned for her to precede him as the stainless steel doors slid silently open. He motioned to his right and that sense of impending doom flared when she realized exactly where they were headed.
“Oh hell no.”
Her voice echoed loudly in the empty corridor.
When she refused to move, the guard took her by the arm to drag her forward. She dug the toes of her sneakers into the carpet. She wa
“Miss, you have to come with me.” The guard’s voice squeaked. He couldn’t be more than twenty five. Not old, but certainly younger than her thirty some years.
Knowing what faced her if she continued down the hallway, Rebecca turned to the guard. Maybe he was into older women. “You don’t really want me to go there, now do you, umm, Stan?” She read the name on his badge and batted her lashes as she’d seen her friends do time and time again in the bars on Friday nights.
“Umm, ur, I’m –” The man started to strangle on his own tongue.
She wasn’t a bad looking woman, a little above average in just about everything. Her weight, her looks, her height. She’d even say her intelligence on most days, today not being one of those days.
How the hell had she gotten herself into this situation?
Just as Stan pulled on her arm again, the oak door at the end of the hallway opened.
And out stepped the reason she wanted to tuck her tail between her legs and run away like a scolded puppy.
Quinton Sanders, all six foot two of his glorious farm fed body walked down the carpeted hallway, looking every inch of a royally pissed off predatory male.
“Let the boy alone, Becky, and come here.” He stopped three feet away, looking straight at her.
There was no way out.
Quinton Sanders had her exactly where he wanted her, at his complete and utter mercy.
Quinton didn’t know what to do first. He wanted to rub his hands together in glee, feeling like a pirate who had just discovered his chest of shiny gold.
“You can let her go. She’s not going anywhere, are you Miss Dawson?” He continued to stare until she raised her head and acknowledged him. He sensed the war taking place inside her and knew the reason for her hesitation. Rebecca was not the type of woman to give her word lightly. To give herself over to a man she didn’t desire. They both knew that if she walked away from the guard, she’d be giving up complete control. To him.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the guard released her and she took a step toward him. Then another, then another. She stopped just a few inches away.
Looking at her gorgeous head of brown hair, he resisted the temptation to stroke it, to reassure her that she had made the right decision.
“You can go now, Stan. Lock the elevator behind you.”
The penthouse suite of offices had their own private elevator. He and Greyson shared the floor along with the other partner, who rarely showed up anymore. A key was needed to enter from the ground floor. Or exit from the top. There was no way his little sparrow would be escaping him tonight.
“Come.” He turned on his heel and walked to his office, leaving the door open. It scared him spitless to think she might not follow him, might run down the all and beg the security guard to take her with him. If she did, he knew he’d have to let her go. What they were about to do required complete consent. Complete trust. Complete desire.
He turned as she entered.
“Good. Now come here.” He’d already dismissed his secretary for the day and opened the blinds, letting in the afternoon sun. The thermal properties of the glass made it cool to the touch and blocked most of the glare. They were on the fifteen floor. Buildings stood across the way but no one could see inside. When the blinds were open, the feeling was one of openness, giving the impression everything that happened was on display for the world to see. Exactly how he wanted Rebecca to feel. On display for him and anyone else he chose.
Not that he would ever let anyone else see her the way he intended to tonight. He was a very selfish man.
Rebecca leaned against the warm wooden door, grasping the knob behind her back. A month ago she had walked out of this office, out of this building, and away from this man. She’d kicked herself a thousand times. She’d picked up the phone to call him a million more.
They’d shared the most intense two months of her entire life. She’d fallen in love, but she’d had to walk away.
As she watched, he unfastened his tie and removed the dark brown belt from his pants. The leather slide from the tabs making her shiver. He lifted each wrist taking off the gold cufflinks. The man was a walking advertisement for GQ. His pants fit the curve of his, umm, body, like a glove and his shirt had to be at least a thousand strand thread count. His hands, lord love his huge calloused hands, flicked the buttons open, revealing his chest. He was as smooth as silk.
For the two months they had dated, they hadn’t had sex, hadn’t progressed much beyond kissing and exploring each other through the layers of their clothing. She’d seen little of his magnificent body. The shirt slid from his shoulders. He toed off the shoes that were polished to a high gloss and removed his socks. The sound of a zipper caused her pulse to race and her heart to skip a beat. She licked her lips in anticipation of finally seeing all of him.
He stopped the zipper half way down, keeping what she just know would be a beautiful, beautiful cock hidden from her view.
“Now, now, sweetheart, you didn’t think you were going to get a free show, did you?” He placed his hands on his hips, stopping any chance of the pants accidently falling away.
“Don’t make me say it again, Rebecca.”
Moving away from the door, she stepped into her fate.
Quinton grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her further into the room. Now way in hell was he letting her change her mind. Propelling her to the middle of the room, he ordered her to stay. Stepping back, he pressed a switch on the wall. A soft whirring sound filled the room as a panel in the ceiling opened up and a smooth metal chain lowered, stopping just above Rebecca’s head.
Her eyes widened as she realized what he was doing. “No, Quinton. I’m not ready for this.”
“Yes you are.” He took both her hands and snapped a set of velvet lined cuffs around her slender wrists. He hooked them to the chain, stretching her arms above her head.
Quinton finally had the woman he loved exactly where he wanted her. Well, not exactly where he wanted her. He wanted her in his cottage by the lake where they could have complete privacy and he could have access to all his instruments of pleasure. There were so much he wanted to introduce her to.
Everything at the cottage and in the office was brand new, bought and installed just days before she had walked away from him. He’d wanted everything fresh and untainted, just like he envisioned their life together.
He stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders as she started to twist and turn. “Shhh, sweetheart.”
Rebecca’s fear and anticipation made her struggle all the more. “I do not want this, you sonofabitch. I never wanted this.”
God, she was lying. She’d always wanted this, but never dared admit it to any of her partners in the past. She was not promiscuous. In fact she was very selective, always searching for that exclusive something. For the man who would take control of her body and give her what she wanted, dominance by a man. She knew that man was Quinton.
Tugging at the chains that held her captive, she glared at him. “Since when do you have to tie your women up?”
“You know why I tie my women up, Becky. You know why I need to tie you up.”
A wave of heat spread through her body, settling low, preparing her for him and what he was about to do to her body.
“You know I would never hurt you.”
That was true. She trusted Quinton more than she’d ever trusted any man.
But trusting him and being mad as hell were two different things. She tried to twist around and knee him in groin.
Chuckling he stopped her movement, squeezing her leg tightly in warning. He turned her away from him and widened his legs to box her in and prevent any movement.
He stroked her arms, running his hands across her shoulders, down her back then around the front of her body. He squeezed the abundance of her breasts. Posed as she was, her chest wall stretched, forcing her heavy breasts to be almost perky. She jerked at the chains.
“Don’t struggle. I don’t want to tie your feet. You need some flexibility for what I want to do to you.”
A shiver ran down Rebecca’s spine. She’d imaged this with him, been drawn more and more to his dominant nature as their relationship had progressed. But he’d never forced her into an intimacy that she didn’t want. In fact their relationship had moved so damned slowly she’d started to doubt that he wanted her. And had been afraid of what would happen if and when he did.
“You’re thinking too much,” he whispered at her ear.
He moved in front of her and flicked her hardened – damn her betraying body – nipples through her shirt. The well washed cotton and bra offered little protection. His fingernail drew ever widening circles around the tips until he came to the edge of her areoles. How he knew where they stopped she didn’t know. They had never seen each other naked. He’d stroked and caressed her breasts but always through her clothing. He had taken the ends in his mouth and sucked them through the fabric. Hell, if he touched her with his mouth right now, she’d probably come.
“You are so damned beautiful sweetheart; I don’t know where to begin.”
She knew where she wanted him to begin. Her breasts. Oh, please let him touch her breasts.
“First we need to get these clothes off.”
“You first,” she demanded.
“Okay.” His easy agreement startled her. He unzipped his pants the rest of the way, letting them fall to the floor, naturally he wore no underwear. His cock was one of the biggest she had ever seen. A more than satisfying length and a width that would stretch a woman almost to the point of pain. Moisture flooded her pussy just thinking about how he would feel.