The Dom's Dungeon Read Free Page B

mingled with the elite in Seattle society. He
could easily destroy her reputation. Who would hire her if he denounced her?
    Footsteps
moved away and returned. Then his hand pressed down on the small of her back.
“This won't feel good, but it will help the pain and redness.” She had only a
second to wonder what he meant before he began to massage lotion into her skin,
right where he'd hit her. As pain flared back to life, she jerked, arched,
tried to kick—and got a swat on her burning butt.
    “Lie
still.” The sheer authority in his voice made her force herself back down.
“Good girl.” His touch gentled, and the pain eased, leaving only a hot
throbbing in its wake. “Up you come now.” He lifted her off the bench. Broad
hands gripped her upper arms, steadying her when she wobbled.
    After a
breath for courage, she looked up into a strong face and piercing blue eyes.
His short dark brown hair lightened to gray at the temples. He had sharply
chiseled features and a stern jaw with a cleft in the chin. A white, tailored
shirt with sleeves rolled up displayed muscular forearms.
    Still
holding her by one arm, he cupped her cheek, using his thumb to brush away her
tears. “Almost over, pet,” he murmured, then stepped back. “Kneel and
apologize.” His voice had turned cold, eradicating for a frozen moment even the
thought of arguing.
    But kneel? Did he think he lived in some
feudal century or—her mind flashed to the BDSM clubs she'd visited and the submissives at their master's feet. Frak , she'd not only found the Dom's dungeon, but
she'd found the Dom to go with it.
    Still…if
this guy thought she'd kneel, he could think again. She gave him a scathing
look and headed for the door. Could she arrest him for hitting her? Probably
not, considering she'd broken—
    “ MacKensie .”
    She
glanced back.
    He crossed
his arms over his chest. “If you leave, I'll report this through legal routes.
If you stay, perhaps we can discuss alternatives.”
    What kind
of alternatives would a man demand? Oh she knew exactly what, and a cold hand
squeezed her chest. She wouldn't be a whore again. Never. But stalling couldn't hurt. Maybe his anger would cool a little. “What
alternatives?”
    He pointed
at the floor in front of him. “Apologize.”
    Fine. She
started back across the room and almost groaned when the room blurred. No food
since breakfast, too long in the Jacuzzi, and this… Her legs buckled as she
tried to kneel, and she landed painfully on her knees. She gritted her teeth
against the pain.
    He bent
over and lifted her face. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.
    She
nodded, confused. Beat me and then make
sure I didn't hurt my knees? Was the man bipolar?
    After
caressing her cheek, he stood. And waited.
    Damn him . She forced the words out, the taste of the
apology bitter in her mouth. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have opened a locked
door.” She stopped.
    “'Please
forgive me, Sir,'” he prompted.
    Oh honestly . Her hands tightened into
fists. If she thumped him in the balls, she could run and… And
what? Escape onto the street bare-ass naked? Assuming her legs even held
her up, because right now that wasn't looking likely; she could feel fine
tremors sweeping through her. “Please forgive me, S-sir.” Her voice broke at
the last word.
    “Very
nice.” He paused. “You have my forgiveness.”
    Relief
swept through her so powerfully that she shuddered. Now if he'd just let her
leave.
    He walked
across the room—maybe she should make a dash for it?—and returned. A warm,
incredibly soft blanket wrapped around her.
    She pulled
it closer and pushed to her feet—too quickly. Cold sweat broke out on her skin,
and a hum filled her ears. She took a step and squinted, hoping to see a chair. Sit. Must sit. Not faint . Her legs gave out.
    He scooped
her up as if she weighed nothing. Shifting her in his arms, he winced and said
under his breath, “Damned knife,” then pulled her against his chest. Carrying her.