Saturday, July 12, 2008

Sweet Backlash by Violet Heart

She couldn't be serious. Chip tapped his foot as her car pulled onto the street and stopped at a red light. It occurred to him she had told him absolutely nothing about herself. She had not answered any of his questions other than telling him she made a sandwich when he asked what she was doing. Sly. Wicked smart. God, and drop-dead gorgeous! Just standing in the same room with her set his body on fire.

He had thought his reaction in his office that afternoon had happened because she caught him by surprise. A fluke. He prided himself on his self-control. But she proved him wrong. In her apartment, his brain fizzled and his senses took over. He gave the appearance of a relaxed visitor, but inside, he was on meltdown. He barely remembered anything she had said about Judge Edmonds. He could only wonder which door led to the bedroom, and how difficult that leather outfit would prove in removing.

As the red light continued to stay her, an impulse had him racing to his Mercedes. He had noticed a slight softening in her expression the last time he asked her to lunch. If he pushed a little harder, maybe she would accept. He could crash the party. Go as an attorney. He still wore his suit, after all.

Adrenaline gave him a rush as the light turned green, and he turned the key in the ignition. He screamed through the parking lot and chirped his tires when he hit the street, barely making it through as the light turned amber. Keeping his eyes on her taillights, he followed her through back streets to an industrial park full of warehouses and massive, sprawling office buildings. He waited for her to go inside before he pulled in and claimed a parking space near the street.

* * * *

"Where have you been? You're never late. I thought you were in an accident or something." Kathy marched from the ladies' room to join her in front of the meeting hall.

"Sorry. My apartment became Grand Central Station." For the Irritation Express!

Her friend hesitated. "George is here. He's all weepy and pale. Did you break it off with him?"

"Yeah." Really? Weepy? She didn't think he would take it so hard.

"You scared him? Made sure he won't come looking for you when your guard is down?" Kathy thrust out a hip and punched it with a fist.

Melony chuckled. "Threatened to fry his nads with a cattle prod."

Her friend threw arms wide and bear hugged her. "That's my girl. You make a mamma proud!"

"You're not my mother," Melony said dryly.

"Thank goodness," snapped Kathy. "I'd have beat your skinny, sassy ass every day. But I did teach you everything you know."

"I'll give you that one. Have I missed anything interesting?"

"No way. Just George whining about how nobody loves him the way he needs to be loved. You weren't hard enough on him. He needs a Domme who'll shut down that whine and teach him a proper, subservient attitude." Her friend let disappointment show in her expression for a second before beaming. "So let's go find you another victim, shall we? Somebody raw, like George, who you can practice molding through discipline."

Inside, the greeters waved them in. Familiar faces sipped punch from cups and milled about tables displaying X-rated candies and cookies. First-timers and inductees sat in chairs down front, listening to a talk on ethics and rules of conduct. Melony remembered listening to that speech close to a year ago. Half the attendees wore leather, chains, and spiked accessories, while the others had come in street attire. She fit right in.

Scanning the backs of the newbie's heads, she tried to determine if anyone struck her fancy. As much as Kathy pushed her to take on a new partner, however, she thought she might like a break. Just live for herself for a little while. She collected a cup of punch and a bar of white chocolate shaped like a penis then sank into a plush, red armchair in a nook at the back of the room. Her feet were killing her.

Hushed voices at the door let her know a newbie had arrived late, since first-timers had to sign in, fill out a waiver, and wear a name badge. Slipping the tip of the penis confection between her lips, she cut her gaze sideways to see if the newcomer would welcome a flirt. She almost choked on the candy when she saw her boss standing alone, looking lost and not a little angry.

A tiny piece of chocolate found its way to the back of her throat, activating her gag reflex, and she hacked. He turned and pinned her with his gaze. Even in the low, nightclub lighting, his intensity reached out and touched palpable fingers to her chest. So much for keeping her lifestyle a secret from the workplace.

Anger surged through her, fueling her already sour mood. In three strides, she thrust her nose in his face. "Who do you think you are? You son of a bitch!" She poked him in the chest and sneered when he winced. "What's the matter? Can't take the pain? Isn't that what you came here for?"

In a lightening move, he took her face in both hands and smashed his lips to hers. She shoved at his shoulders, but he sent his fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp, and softened the kiss. With an expertise that turned her mind to mush, he worked his lips over hers. He eased her into the nook and bent her backward over the chair. Through her leather pants, his hard cock ground against her clit as he urged her lips open and thrust his tongue inside.

She had never let a man get this far. Men scared her. Their strength caused pain. Their aggression overpowered and demanded submission. Like now. No!

But he caused no pain. He pushed her coat off her shoulders and skimmed his fingertips across her hot skin. His tongue caressed hers and he traced the outline of her breasts above the hard edge of her bodice. No! She tensed. She was the Dominatrix! Her control ruled!

She wilted. Just a little longer. He tasted so good. Carmel, coffee, and a hint of dry roasted peanuts. She had never tasted a man. He smelled good, too. Sandalwood and vanilla. And his left hand smelled like leather, from his briefcase handle.

His hips ground harder, hurting a bit, and he bent her further over the chair back. Her spine protested and she whimpered. Stop it. Stop it! She slapped him. Hard.

Lifting off her, he stared with stunned, passion-misted eyes. "Oh, God, Melony. I'm sorry."

He offered a hand to help her up, but she slapped it away and heaved off the chair. Ow! She put her fingers on her lumbar and squeezed to cease the muscle spasms.

Suddenly, one of the bouncers rushed over and put Chip in a headlock. "You seemed to be having fun, Melony. I didn't know you were in trouble."

"I'm okay, Frank."

Chip struggled in vain against the burly biker. She suspected the bouncer's spiked wristbands didn't feel good digging into her boss's neck. Let him suffer a minute.

"So, how's Velma? I don't see her at the meetings much these days." The spasm stopped and she twisted her torso to release the last of the tension. She tried not to smile as Chip swung wild, impotent punches in every direction, his head cocked by Frank's elbow so he couldn't see much of anything.

"She's got a new job. Nightshift down at the bottling plant." He hitched a thumb over his shoulder.

"Does she like it?" She didn't care.

"Sure does, sweetheart. Best money she's made yet. And her days are free to go riding with me, among other things." He waggled his eyebrows.

She smiled. He looked fierce, but he loved his wife like nothing she'd ever seen. And he treated Melony like precious cargo.

"You want me to break his neck?" he asked, tightening his hold.

Chip when still, his face turning lavender and his eyes popping. "No. I think he's learned his lesson. Go ahead and let him go."

"You sure about that, sweetheart?" He loosened his grip a fraction and her boss gasped.

"Yeah, go ahead. I've got him from here. Where's a whip when ya need one, huh?" She shrugged and grinned.

"Right!" Frank released a hearty laugh. "You take him home, now. Take good care of him."

What did he think? That she took Chip on as a partner? "Oh, I'm not—"

The bouncer froze, refusing to release her boss. Scowling, he said, "Nobody comes in here and treats us like he just did to you. Now you tell me he's your new slave or I'm taking him out back, snapping his neck, and dumping him at the railroad tracks."

Chip sent her a desperate look, his lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. He had a muscular build, but he didn't stand a chance against the biker's sheer brawn. Damn it. She couldn't let Frank kill him. And Kathy would never let her get away with lying about taking on a new partner. The society would kick her out of membership, and they provided the only support she had ever known. They were friends. An adoptive family of sorts. No, she had no choice.

Waving a hand in the air, she faked a lighthearted laugh. "Oh, he's mine alright. He's really raw. I've got to teach him some manners. I was going to say that I'm not ready to leave yet. But if you think we should go…"

"I think that would be best. He's made enough trouble for one night." Frank growled, reached for the back of his belt, and came up with a collar and leash. Clamping the harness around Chip's neck, he handed the leash to Melony. "See you both next month." The bouncer saluted her and headed into the heart of the meeting.

"Come on, slave," she said, giving the leash a tug. "Let's get you settled at my place."

"What?" Chip rasped, trying to insert his fingers under the edge of the collar.

"You heard me. My place." She shrugged into her coat and ripped his nametag off his lapel.

He followed her outside, giving her no trouble. The cold March air cleared her head and she tried to imagine how they would establish their boundaries between the workplace and home.

"I can't go home with you. I've got a room at a hotel that's paid through the week." His voice still rattled.

"You don't understand. You just sold your soul to the devil for that one kiss."