A Dom is for Life Page 7

  “What?”

  “It’ll save. Go get that bath.” I’m tempted to offer to wash her back for her, but I guess it’s just too soon, despite the spanking last weekend. “Have you eaten?” I ask as she trudges through the door to the stairs.

  She pauses, shakes her head.

  “Me neither. Do you mind if I send out for a pizza?”

  “Are you paying?”

  I grin. “Ham and mushroom, with pepperoni? Right?”

  “There’s a menu on the fridge.” She tips her chin in the general direction. “They’ll deliver.”

  Chapter 7

  Josh

  We agree to share the last slice of pizza. I rounded out the order with a portion of spicy wedges and a tub of coleslaw, and now we’re both stuffed. Libby licks her fingers, then starts to pile the empty trays and cartons ready for the bin.

  “Let me help,” I offer.

  “Make some more coffee. I’ve got this.” She trots off, barefoot, to dump the debris in the pedal bin. She’s wearing sweatpants and a strappy top, and her hair is still damp. She looks gorgeous. A little thinner than when we were together, but otherwise she’s lost none of her innate sexiness. I’m less sure about her submissive nature, though. Had it not been for the way she responded to that spanking, I’d be seriously worried,

  Still, Libby never lacked backbone when it was needed, and I guess I’m seeing that at first-hand now. She intends to make me work for this, and I can’t say I blame her.

  I make two more cups of instant coffee, add milk to mine, and set hers before her, black.

  “You said there was something else you want to talk about,” she reminds me.

  I nod. “Did the Dangerfields make you an offer?”

  She huffs out a derisive snort. “Twenty grand below the asking price. I told the agent to turn it down.”

  I nod my approval. Grasping weasels, the pair of them, and they didn’t appreciate the place anyway.

  “I see it’s still on the market. Any more interest?”

  “Not yet. I was wondering about coming down a bit, but if I drop by as much as twenty thousand I’d be making a loss.”

  I reach for my jacket, hanging on the back of my chair, and retrieve the envelope from my inside pocket. “How about this as Plan B?”

  “Plan B?” She takes the envelope and turns it in her hands. “What is this?”

  “Open it, read it, and tell me if you think you might be interested.”

  I sip my coffee while she rips open the envelope and extracts the two folded sheets inside, spreading them out before her on the table to read them. She glances up at me. “A job?”

  I nod. “Part-time. I thought it might suit you.”

  She doesn’t reply at once. Instead, she reads slowly through the entire job description then levels her gaze at me again. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch. The job’s going, and it’s yours if you want it.”

  “Head of finance? And a salary two thousand pounds a year more than I’m on at Carter and Benbow.”

  “Pro rata. We’re only looking for someone for ten to twelve hours a week. The hours are flexible, you could fit them around your existing job. You could even work from home for a lot of it, if you want.”

  “Heidi’s?” she muses. “I’ve not heard of them. Is it a store at the arcade?”

  I shake my head. “I guard the premises and nick shoplifters. I don’t do hiring and firing there. Heidi’s is an entirely separate business interest of mine, but completely legitimate.”

  “So, what do they do?” she asks.

  “It’s a club.”

  “A club. What sort of…?” She pauses. “Oh. A club.”

  I let that sink in.

  “Do you own this place?” she asks me. “Would you be my boss?”

  “No. The clue is in the name. Heidi owns it, though that’s not her official name, obviously. We’re business partners. She runs the club on a day-to-day basis so you’d report to her.”

  “A BDSM club?”

  “Obviously.”

  “I don’t… I don’t do clubs anymore. Not for quite a while now.”

  “This is a job. Business. You’d need to go in from time to time to collect documents or get signatures for banking stuff, but not necessarily in club opening hours. The salary is high because there are no other finance staff. You’d be in charge of that side of things. We’re prepared to pay well to get the right person.”

  “You’re offering me this because I’m your wife…”

  “Partly,” I admit. “It helps that I know you, know what you’re capable of. This job would be perfect for you, and you’re perfect for us. You’ve got all the qualifications Heidi insists on, and you understand the context of the establishment as well.”

  She turns the job description over thoughtfully. “Are there any conditions attached?”

  “Of course. You’d be expected to work hard, get the sums right, make sure we don’t fall foul of the taxman.”

  “I mean, personal conditions. Between you and me?”

  “This has nothing to do with you and me, apart from the fact that I love you and I don’t want you to be forced to sell the house you obviously adore. The vacancy arose before I came to see you earlier in the week. At that time, I still thought you worked full time at the solicitors, it never occurred to me you might be interested in a new role. Obviously, when I realised…well, I wanted you to have first refusal. If you turn this down, we’ll readvertise, but I doubt we’ll find a better candidate.”

  “What about this Heidi? Won’t she be a bit put out to find you’ve offered the job to your ex-wife?”

  “Not ex,” I correct her. “We’ve been though that already. And all Heidi will care about is your credentials. She’ll want to know that you’re qualified and competent, which is why I’ve arranged for you to meet her.”

  “At the club? No, I really don’t—”

  “Out of hours,” I say quickly, wanting to forestall her objections. “During the day. She’ll have time to talk to you then. Four o’clock on Tuesday. Does that suit you?”

  “A job interview?”

  I rock my hand back and forth. “Not exactly. Heidi asked me to see to filling this vacancy, and the job’s yours if you want it. But it involves working closely with her, so I think it best if the pair of you meet first, then you can decide.”

  “I’m not sure. Given how things are, between you and me, I mean, it’s best to keep a bit of distance, don’t you think? If we were both to work at the same place…”

  “I don’t run the club. I go there quite often, two or three times a week, but it’s Heidi’s place. As for you, you needn’t ever turn up at all while we’re open. You and I need never meet there if that’s what you prefer. No pressure, Libby. Just a genuine offer. It’s a good job, and you’d be perfect for it.” I drain my coffee and get to my feet. “Give it some thought. This is the address…” I hand her my director’s business card. “Heidi will be expecting you on Tuesday, at four.”

  Chapter 8

  Libby

  Google is the fetishist’s friend. I spend the weekend finding out what I can about Heidi’s.

  It’s been a while since I last hung out on Fetlife, but I type in my password and begin trawling recommendations for local BDSM clubs. I find a few references to the new kinksters’ playroom occupying premises on the outskirts of Manchester.

  The reviews are favourable. Good range of equipment, clean, well-run, just the right level of vetting of members to make the users feel safe but without being off-putting. This is exactly the sort of place that Josh and I used to enjoy going to, back when we were together. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s involved in running this place. It has his hallmarks all over it.

  I wonder about his ‘business partner’. He seemed to have a lot of respect for Heidi, but just how close are they, really?

  And why should it matter to me in any case? We’re over. I told him that, and I meant it.

  Now, I
need to tell myself the same thing.

  It’s Monday afternoon, and I’m back at home after doing my usual half day at Carter and Benbow. Heidi is expecting me tomorrow, at which time she’ll no doubt also expect to know whether I’m taking this job or not.

  I pick up the business card Josh left with me. It’s starting to show signs of wear, I’ve thumbed it so often. The card is thick, glossy, a discreet shade of slate grey with the name of the club embossed in a metallic pale blue. It’s classy, elegant even. I turn it over to read the reverse side.

  J. Novak (Director)

  The address for correspondence is printed below, one of the swish new apartments in the city centre, along with Josh’s mobile phone number. I note the postal address does not match the directions Josh gave me to actually find the club, so I wonder if this is his home address. It’s one of the up-market warehouse conversions in the centre of the city. Those places cost a fortune. The security industry must pay well.

  I’ve spent the weekend dithering, which is not like me at all, at least not where professional matters are concerned. There’s no doubt that the job would suit me. The money is right, and the responsibility would be everything I love in my career. I like to work on my own. I enjoy autonomy and thrive on just getting the job done, efficiently and thoroughly. Carter and Benbow have never had cause for complaint, and they begged me to move to the new offices close to Waterloo station with the rest of the corporate department. I was tempted, too, but couldn’t really imagine myself living on my own in central London. My career matters to me, but not at the expense of everything else in my life.

  There’s my sister, my lovely house, the area I grew up in. I couldn’t leave it all behind.

  And now, here I am. I’ve been thrown a financial lifeline. I should be grabbing it with both hands. There’s just one reason why not. One huge reason.

  Josh.

  I do believe him when he says there are no strings attached. Josh may be an idiot, I think we both agree on that, but he’s no liar. Even so, and despite his assurance that our paths need never cross, it’s still too close for comfort. He’s a director of the company. His name will be on the documents, his signature required from time to time, even if Heidi is my main contact. And how can I be sure he won’t drop in out of hours sometime? It would be just my luck.

  And if he didn’t, that might even be worse. I’d be half-expecting him all the time. Waiting for him. Hoping…

  I stuff the card back in the envelope with the job details, my mind made up at last. This whole thing is madness. It would never work.

  Josh and I have too much history. There’s been too much hurt, on both sides. Best to try, again, for that clean break.

  I type out a quick email to the address printed on the letterhead at the top of the first page of the job details, apologising to Heidi for the late notice and for having wasted her time.

  I won’t be going to see her tomorrow at four, but I wish her all the best in her efforts to recruit the right candidate for her team.

  I’ve just emerged from the shower when the knocking starts. I don’t need to peer out of my bedroom window to know it has to be Josh hammering on my front door, though I thought he would probably arrive later, after the shopping centre has closed. I check the time…just a little after five in the afternoon.

  Heidi must have forwarded my email on to him, and now he’s here demanding to know why I flung his generous offer back in his face, no doubt.

  I pull on a loose-fitting T-shirt and leggings and make my way down to face the music.

  He’s wearing a smart business suit, though he’s removed his tie and the top button of his shirt is open. It’s obvious he’s come her straight from work, and equally apparent he’s not in a great mood.

  “What the fuck, Libby?” is his opening gambit, as soon as I peer around the door at him.

  “Hello, Josh,” I reply, then turn and make my way into my kitchen, leaving the door swinging open. His footsteps on my tiled hallway let me know he’s accepted my invitation to come in, such as it was. “Coffee?”

  He ignores my offer and gets straight to the point. “You bailed on Heidi.”

  “Yes.” I fill the kettle and plug it in.

  “What the hell for?” he demands, from somewhere close behind me.

  “It wouldn’t have worked,” I reply, reaching for the cups. I squeal when he grabs me from behind and pulls me against his hard chest.

  “Care to tell me how you know that?” he breathes into my ear. “You never even met Heidi. Never set foot in the club.”

  I try to wriggle free, but he tightens his hold. “Let go of me.”

  “Not until you explain what’s going on in your head, Libby.”

  “I decided the job wasn’t for me, that’s all.” I’m struggling in earnest now. “For Christ’s sake, Josh, you’re hurting me.”

  “No, I’m not. Not yet. Try again, Libby, and I’ll settle for the truth this time. That job could have been created exactly with you in mind. Why aren’t you at least considering it?”

  “It has nothing to do with you,” I protest.

  “Fuck that. I think it has everything to do with me.” He murmurs his words into my still-damp hair while his hand snakes beneath the loose top to cup my breast. I was in a hurry to get to the door before my neighbours came out to see what the commotion was, and I had no time for underwear. “Ah, Libby, you were expecting me, then?”

  “Josh, stop…”

  He caresses each of my breasts in turn. His touch is gentle, almost mesmeric. It’s all so familiar, so…safe, and right. In moments, the years of bitterness fall away, and I relax, only to let out a startled squeal when he pinches my nipple. Hard.

  “Good. I have your attention. So now, we talk.”

  “What are you doing, Josh? Let go of me…”

  “No, I don’t think that’s what you want. It certainly isn’t what I want.” He pinches my other nipple. Despite the aching familiarity, he still hurts me. I stiffen in his arms. “That’s better,” he murmurs. “So, I’ll ask you again…why did you cancel the meeting with Heidi?”

  “I… I told you. It would never have worked…”

  “Wrong answer, Libby.” He squeezes my nipple again, twisting this time for good measure.

  It really hurts. I’m writhing in his arms, my eyes closed as I reach inside myself for the inner resources to channel and process the pain.

  “Why, Libby?” He ramps up the pressure until I let out a scream.

  “You and I both know this ends one of two ways,” he explains, his tone low, calm, utterly sexy. “Either you answer my question with the truth, or you use your safe word.”

  “Josh, I—”

  “That would be ‘Sir’, I think you’ll find.”

  “Sir, please… Sir!” I’m gasping, panting through the pain, but nothing helps. Dear Christ, I’d forgotten just how accomplished my husband and Dom is at this.

  “Tell me, Libby. The truth…” He moves to start on the other nipple, and I can’t stand it anymore.

  “You,” I grind out between clenched teeth. “It was because of you.”

  He relaxes his hold, but only slightly, enough to keep me on the edge of agony but able to talk still.

  “Because of me how?” he presses.

  “I… I was worried I’d have to work with you. That you’d be there and…and…”

  “I told you, you’ll be reporting to Heidi You’ll deal with her, not me.”

  “But you’d be there. Sometimes…”

  “Is that such a massive problem? I wouldn’t interfere with your work. We could avoid one another if that’s what you want.”

  I lift my free hand to swipe away the tears flowing freely across my cheeks.

  “Is that what you want, Libby?” His tone has gentled now, though his touch has not. “Is that truly what you want?”

  No!

  “Yes,” I manage. “A clean break…”

  “Okay. So, what if I was to give up my interes
t in Heidi’s? If I wasn’t a partner anymore? Would you take the job then?”

  “But you are… Sir.”

  “If I wasn’t, though? What then?” he repeats, never letting up on my poor, abused nipple.

  “Then… yes. Probably,” I reply.

  “Probably?” He is unrelenting.

  “Yes. Definitely,” I concede at last. “If you weren’t there, I’d take the job.”

  “Tell me why you want to avoid me so much, Libby?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I whimper.

  “No. No, it isn’t. This? You love this.” His vice-like grip tightens just a fraction more. “You’d have used your safe word when I first got my hands on you if this wasn’t what you wanted. Needed. You wouldn’t be here, in my arms, submitting to what I’m doing to you and calling me Sir.”

  I close my eyes in abject defeat. “Please don’t hurt me anymore,” I whisper, and I’m not talking about my nipples now.

  Josh releases his grip and turns me in his arms, so I am sobbing into his shirt. He places two fingers under my chin and tips my face up, so I am forced to meet his gaze. “I love you, Libby. I mean to spend the rest of my life never hurting you again.” His sensual mouth curls in a lopsided smirk. “Well, apart from the obvious…”

  I can only stare up at him, his handsome features distorted by my tears. He lowers his head to brush his lips across mine.

  “I want you, Libby…”

  I reach for him, link my hands behind his neck, and part my lips to accept his kiss, to suck his tongue into my mouth. This may be senseless. This may be everything I have worked to be able to live without these last three years, but none of that matters to me now. Here, in this moment, I need him, want him, as much as he wants me.

  His palms slide down my back to cup my buttocks, and he lifts me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist, rub my pussy against his abdomen, the barrier of my clothing and his just adding to the friction I crave.

  Josh never breaks the kiss. Somehow, he edges around, still holding me, and sets my bottom down on the edge of my table. He leans forward, lowering me onto my back, all the while tongue-fucking my mouth.