Anything for Him: Dominated (#1)

  Anything For Him (#1)

  BDSM Erotic Romance

  By Carmen Cross

  Copyright © 2012

  Anything For Him, Carmen Cross

  All Rights Reserved

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Crossroads Publishing © 2012 All rights reserved

  The office hummed with conversation, but none of it was personal. In every cubicle people were bent over their desks, working hard at their jobs. Nobody even considered attempting to slack off, or to simply look busy without being actually busy. The boss was in the place and everyone knew it.

  Danny Sullivan walked through the office with his face set into a pleasant mask but his employees were not fooled, he was a man who demanded perfection and hard work and nothing less would satisfy him. Danny was a hard man whose full lips rarely broke into a smile although his warm baritone voice could charm the birds from the trees. His long legs and lean hips gave him a prowling grace and his broad shoulders and slightly too close set blue eyes, looking out from under brows of an utterly lightless black, made him look both cold and hard. Dangerous, as some of the women liked to describe him, saying the word with a delighted little shudder.

  Meghan Lowry saw him coming, gave a tiny squeak and tried to jump into a cubicle. The woman sitting inside it gave her a cold glare and an upraised finger before using her foot to shove her back out and into the narrow hallway.

  Danny saw Meghan as she stumbled back into the hall and while his expression never changed his interest was instantly piqued. His eyes raked quickly up and down Meghan’s lean body taking in the slightly too large skirt that brushed her shin bones, the ill-fitting suit jacket whose somber dark blue hue did nothing for her alabaster skin, the pale green blouse below it that he guessed she had bought because she had thought it would match the intense green of her eyes and the fiery red hair whose curls were doing their best to escape the severe knot that held them unwilling hostage.

  Anxiety rolled through Meghan’s belly as she faced her employer. She raised a hand in a half-wave, thought better of it and then tried to get out of his way, unaware that the small bruise that lay on the underside of her wrist had caught his attention.

  “I’m a temp,” Meghan finally got out. “One of your assistants is on maternity leave and the agency sent me. I was told that you have several companies but that here was where I was to show up.”

  Oh you idiot, Meghan scolded herself as icy blue eyes studied her face intently, you should have said just introduced yourself instead of blurting out such nonsense!

  Her wrist was suddenly caught in a firm grip; a small gasp of pain escaped her lips as the delicate flesh was squeezed, causing the pain of the bruise to burst into fresh life. Confusion overrode the pain as she saw a tiny small flicker at the corners of his sensual mouth.

  “I am glad you showed up,” Danny murmured. “I could certainly use some assistance.”

  Meghan tried to think of something to say. Her wrist was released but the warm pressure of his fingers lingered and embarrassing warmth spread upwards from her cheeks to her forehead. “I can do anything you need,” she began.

  “Anything as defined by the Merriam Webster dictionary?”

  The sudden interruption flummoxed her. Her eyes darted to the plain beige walls that outlined the cubicles, the equally bland neutral toned carpet and then to the tips of her own shoes as she tried to decide how to answer his quip. Should she joke with him? Stay silent? She thought about the zero balance in her bank account and decided to simply try a different tack.

  “What may I do to be of assistance, Sir?”

  The smile grew wider and several unbelieving employees stared openly as it did. “I am sure I can think of something. Jenkins,” This to the man who stood beside him, “Take her to my office please.”

  Meghan opened her mouth to say something, what she was not sure, but before she had the chance to put any of her confused thoughts into a sentence, Jenkins gave her a long level look, crooked his index finger at her and whirled on his heel. She found herself having to practically run to keep up with his strides and she began to worry that the borrowed and slightly too large shoes would fall off of her feet before they arrived at their destination.

  “In there,” Jenkins said, swinging open a door.

  The room that she stepped into was large enough that her entire apartment would have fit inside it with room left over. A glowing rug that was so gloriously colored and gently faded that she knew instantly it had to be incredibly expensive, covered the polished hardwood floor.

  Heavy leather furniture sat in small groups, a teakwood bar stood under a long bank of gleaming windows that overlooked the vast skyline and a tall cabinet with two heavy doors sat between a deep recliner upholstered in black leather and a rather odd and decidedly out- of-place wooden chair whose heavy arms looked like they had been through some type of battle. Hash marks covered them; deep gouges and shiny worn places also marked the wood. For some reason the chair made Meghan feel nervous.

  A large desk sat in the dead center of the room, a chair behind it. The gilt-edged green blotter was empty; the Mark Cross ink pen was neatly capped and laid in a straight line beside the blotter.

  The paintings, tastefully lit by track lighting, gave the room warmth but it still made Meghan feel too small and somehow very vulnerable. She wasn’t sure of what she should do so she stood in front of the desk, nervously clasping her hands in front of her waist and trying hard to stand perfectly stall and straight.

  The door opened and she arranged her face into what she hoped was a pleasant expression. Danny Sullivan entered, his expensive cologne adding its own subtle aroma to the scent of leather that hung over the room.

  “I have your file here,” he said as he sat himself behind the desk. “Do you want me to tell you what is in it?’

  The red heat filled her face again and she wanted to run away or begin to weep. The folder, lying on his blotter, looked so innocuous. The pale manila folded exactly and tabbed with red over neatly typed black letters that spelled out her name was far from harmless however.

  “I assure you,” she said in a quavering voice, “I am not going to steal anything.”

  “I imagine if you had wanted to steal something you would have grabbed one of the paintings and run for the door.” There was amusement in his voice, but it made her feel no better. “Tell me why you did it.”

  Meghan took a deep breath, “I don’t have a reason.”

  That was true, but also a lie. Danny kept his eyes locked on hers and she tried to hold his arctic gaze but she couldn’t, she dropped her eyes to the toes of her shoes.

  “Did it feel good?”

  Meghan blinked. No one had ever asked her that. “Excuse me?”

  “You broke into homes – estates, and robbed them. It must take a lot of sheer nerve to be a cat burglar, what I want to know is, did that feel good? Did you feel a rush, did your pussy get wet when you went through the windows?”

  The word pussy caused her jaw to snap open. She whispered, “Yes,” before she could stop herself. Her hand came up to her mouth almost immediately in a vain attempt to trap the word, to take it back.

  Danny watched her struggle with herself. He could see her di
scomfort and her shock, he knew that she was trying desperately to figure out a way to take back what she had said and still save face. He found himself amused by her, and intrigued but he was not quite sure that she was exactly what he was hoping she was. His eyes went to the sleeve of the jacket; it lay too long and wide across her wrist, hiding the bruise from his sight.

  “You didn’t do it for the money, your family has enough of that.”

  Meghan wanted to simply storm out. Once upon a time she would have but that had been before she had been caught robbing the house that belonged to the Beauchamps, one of the wealthiest families in town and the people who just happened to be best friends with her parents. Her parents had kept her from going to prison but they had disowned her and now she was broke and on her own, she could not afford to walk out on the only job she had been able to get.

  “No, I didn’t do it for the money.”

  “So it did make you hot. Say it.”

  Meghan stared at the painting over his head. Danny counted to ten silently, wondering if she were going to break. He wanted her to, he wanted to hear those words tumbling from her tongue, wanted them to be said so she could hear them out loud but he doubted that she would say them.

  He slowly perused her body, imagining her tied to the bed, her long legs opened wide and her mouth ready to receive him. He knew she was broke, that she was about to get evicted and that she had no other options but to work for him. That excited him, what excited him even more was the fact that she was a Lowry, he had an axe to grind with her father Tom and fucking her would give him an immense satisfaction on several levels.

  Long seconds ticked out, counted silently by their heartbeats. Danny had begun to wonder if she would speak at all when she said, in a rush, “I came here to be your assistant. That is what the agency hired me to do.”

  “I will pay you triple what the agency is if you will tell me why you did it.”

  Danny watched her struggle with the offer. He had no doubt she would do it, life had long since taught him that every person had a price, some were just willing to sell themselves a little cheaper and others were able to hold out for more. Growing up he had seen all too often people selling their own flesh, and the flesh of others.

  Meghan knew why she had burglarized homes. Growing up she had been the quintessential poor little rich girl. Her brother had inherited her mother’s blond good looks and her father’s business acumen as well as his love of sports. Gregory Lowry had sailed through school with good grades, girls hanging all over him, his father’s approval and his mother’s love. Meghan had been a pale and often sickly little girl who had burned a fiery shade of red every summer when they had gone to their summer beach house, had been totally lost on the tennis courts and average in class. Her parents had overlooked her and the girls her age had only wanted to be her friend in order to get close to Gregory, once they figured out he wanted nothing to do with his three years younger sister they ignored her in favor of other girls with brothers that they could use their budding wiles upon.

  Meghan had spent her summers with a succession of nannies after her sunburns and colds had become too much of a nuisance for her family to deal with. By her junior high years her mother had grown tired of attempting to make her shy daughter more socially adept and so Meghan was shipped off to boarding schools.

  The loneliness and boredom had been broken the day that she had slipped a small figurine into her pocket at a party. She could not ever explain how much she had wanted to get caught, had needed to be caught. She had, without knowing it, been in desperate need of attention from her parents. The attention she had gotten after she had finally been caught had not at all been the attention she had always dreamed of, that much she did know.

  Danny was about to simply release her; he had grown bored with her silence when she finally spoke, “I had nothing to lose.”

  Danny’s left eyebrow quirked up at her quiet response. It was the truth; maybe not the whole truth but it was the truth nonetheless. He could guess at the rest of it. He knew her parents, despised them in fact. The Lowry’s held control of a dying business and they cut personnel rather than cut back on their own lavish lifestyle. In his opinion anyone willing to starve people who had served them for no better reason than to satisfy their own greed weren’t worth knowing.

  He shut that line of thinking off. He knew if he did not his own childhood would come creeping back to the front of his mind, bringing with it all the rage and pain of those dark, torturous years.

  There are far better things to think about, he told himself firmly.

  “Miss Lowry,” he said, “I require a certain type of service. I demand utter obedience and a willingness to serve. If you are willing to provide me with that, we may come to a very pleasurable agreement.”

  The word pleasurable sent little shivers down her back. She was acutely aware of him as a man, she could not help it. Everything about him, from the way his long body lounged back negligently in his chair to the shape of his bottom lip, the undeniably firm set of his shoulders, made her feel a strange and incredibly erotic rush in her belly.

  In her last year at a boarding school in France she had met a man whose brooding dark looks had created a similar reaction in her. She had let him seduce her several times but she had never been able to feel anything past that first brush of lust. If she had had a close female friend to ask she might have understood that it was due to his being inconsiderate of her needs, that she had done nothing wrong and that her inability to feel pleasure in the act was not her fault.

  She had not felt lust since then and guilt at feeling it at that moment was rapidly overriding it. Danny saw that, her face was incredibly easy to read, and he made his move.

  “Do you want to serve me?”

  “Serve you?” The word choice seemed odd to her and her voice was laced with confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  He was out of the chair and in front of her so fast she felt off-balance. His eyes held hers and she swallowed hard, her pussy felt heavy and full and her nipples tightened involuntarily.

  “I mean will you obey me, will you do as you are ordered? Will you say Yes, Sir and please and thank you? Will you get on your knees and offer me what I want from you?”

  Her breath came out on a harsh exhale. Her heartbeat accelerated and a thin trickle of fluid slid down her slim inner thigh, she could feel it and she squeezed her legs together to try to halt its flow. Instantly she knew he had seen that movement and that it had been a mistake on her part. It had given her away.

  “Is that a yes?” His voice was husky and his mouth was a bare inch from hers. A sound that might have been a word came from her mouth and his lips came down on hers.

  The kiss was demanding and furious, she could feel her lips opening below his. His tongue slid against her teeth, forcing them open and then he was probing the recesses of her mouth, exploring its every corner and crevasse.

  His hands slid down her back, his strong fingers dug into the curved out halves of her ass and he lifted her up and forward, tilting her pelvis so that her crotch was parallel to his. He deliberately rubbed his hard cock against her, relishing the sweet sound of her surrender. Her moan was low and soft and he stepped back, his eyes glowing with desire.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  The ruthless command surprised her. The thrill that shot through her frightened her. She stepped back, intent on walking away but he was not letting go of his prize so easily. He grabbed her by her jaw and kissed her again, causing her to groan and whimper.

  “I will take them off for you,” he warned. “This is your only chance.”

  She stood there, her lips bruised and pulped, her senses whirling and her head spinning. She could not seem to make sense of her thoughts or emotions. His hands went to the jacket and it fell to the floor but that did not alarm her. The sound of the blouse ripping did.

  She protested but he ignored that, his hands stroked the fabric of her bra and she fell silent. His
thumbs tweaked her hard nipples and then the bra was falling to her feet.

  “Take off that skirt.”

  Meghan’s fingers fumbled at her waist and the skirt landed in a puddle on the toes of her shoes. She stared down at them, wondering what she had been thinking when she had borrowed them from her roommate that morning.

  “The panties.”

  There was nothing soft about his tone and she felt a swirl of emotion rising in her. She could feel shame and fear but more than that, riding through that, was that heavy wetness in her pussy and belly. She thought of trying to do some little striptease, of trying to be sexy but instead she simply slid them off. She held the scrap of lace and silk in her hand for a moment, weighing it. It felt flimsy and frail and she closed her eyes as she let the panties drop to the ground.

  The curves and angles of her body stood out in sharp relief once the ugly clothes were gone. The sun, striking through the windows, made her skin appear translucent. Gold streaks shot through her hair and he grabbed a handful of it, yanking it down from its knot, allowing it to spill over her shoulders.

  He kissed her again and Meghan felt his knee coming up between her thighs, the hard muscle abrading and pleasuring her all at the same time. She whimpered as her feet slid across the floor, Danny was moving her toward the chair with inexorable force.

  Her ass hit the wooden seat and she screeched but the sound cut off when he grabbed her wrist, the one that had the bruise, and yanked a heavy manacle from below the chair. The long length of chain rattled and the metal of the cuff sent a cool finger of dread into her.

  “How did you get this bruise?”

  “I …my landlord wanted my rent money…I tried to walk away but he grabbed me.” The admission was painful. Worse it made her feel incredibly naked, naked in a way she had not felt even when the panties had come off. Her eyes went back to the shoes and the sheer stockings she wore, his followed. His fingers pried the shoes off and she winced in embarrassment as the toilet paper she had stuffed into the toes popped out and uncrinkled along the floor like some fanciful caterpillar.