Controlled Response (Knights of the Board Room #2)

"Don't faint on me." His voice held tenderness, laced with something far more serious, inexorable. His hand passed down her back, an easy, soothing stroke that she wished was finding skin, rather than the hard shell of the corset. Her fingers tightened on his shirt, feeling the slope of iron pectorals. "You know what I think, Cass? Ask me. Speak to me."

"I don't want to. W-what?"

His smile pulled against her cheek, but from the stillness of his body, she didn't think he was any more amused by her petulance than she was. "Somewhere along the line the corset became about something more than your need to control your life. The binding of the corset was the substitute for a lover's restraint, holding you, gripping you. The way it pushes your breasts up so high, like hands cupping them. You're waiting for release from the one man who can also release you from the corset, who will replace its restraint with his own. Your master. Your lover."

"Sounds like a chauvinistic delusion," she muttered faintly. "Dog collars and leashes."

"Most of those who crave dominance or submission can't walk around in leather cracking whips, Cass, or hang out at underground clubs. They're people like you and me, and it's a need as old as the need for love. In all its crazy, perverse forms."

Lifting his head, he tilted her chin to caress her lips with his thumb, that romantic gesture he did so well, his other fingers tugging on the hold of the cashmere ribbon collar. "Don't bolt on me. Not from the truth. If it helps, tell yourself you're pretending, that it's all role playing, an exciting sex game. I've put that vibrator on your clit because I want you to sit in the board room, surrounded by the K&A team. I want to watch the rigid way you hold your body, even more than the corset requires, because you'll be fighting not to come. It isn't about you begging me to stop. It's about feeling safe enough to beg permission to let go. And I will let you release before the day ends. On my terms."

As she did indeed think about bolting, he lifted a brow, the gray eyes sparking with a mesmerizing mixture of desire and resolve. A challenge. "You walk away at the end of the day. That's our agreement, right? So what do you have to lose? Now—" he changed gears smoothly—"one other gift. I thought they'd go with the theme of today's meeting."

His touch eased, became a stroke down her arms. When he opened the other side of the blue box, she was looking at four bracelets. Cuffs of beaten silver, beautiful in their simple purity, the edges smooth and rounded. On each there appeared to be Japanese characters.

When he snapped them closed on each wrist they were a snug fit. Then he knelt and put the other two, which were thinner, on her ankles. She hadn't worn any jewelry except a pair of silver earrings, so the anklets and bracelets added an exotic touch that felt exactly like she suspected he intended them to feel. Unbidden, she somehow imagined herself as a slave bought at auction, her master putting on the symbols of his ownership with strong, caressing hands that also said she was his. That he would care for her, cherish her. And she would serve him however he asked.

His gaze rose, paused on her throat then, the mark they both knew was there. "Believe me, I was tempted to get you a collar," he said, low. "But one step at a time. You ready?"

Cass started out of the fragments of fantasy that had taken over her head, returning her to this corporate office, the Baton Rouge skyline, and the reality of who she was, what her life was. She shook her head, started to back away, though he'd retained one of her hands.

"I've stepped over a line I never really should have crossed. I can't, Lucas. This is too much." She tried to unlock a bracelet, found she couldn't locate the mechanism.

"Cassandra." He stopped her. "Answer me this. Are you aroused?"

She looked away. "You know I am. But—"

Guiding her face back to him with a hand she couldn't shake, he held her there. "Your cunt is wet because I want it that way. I'm going to work you throughout this meeting until you can't do anything but think about how much you want to come, because that's what I want, too. And you're going to submit to it, because your body and your mind need a Master to really let go. Maybe even your heart. For the next two hours, you obey me. Can you trust me that much? Because that's what this is about. You're very intelligent, Cass. You know a woman gets the maximum amount of sexual pleasure when her mind is as engaged as her body. That's the focus here."

For women, the physical and emotional both were key to great sex. Just sex. She did know that. So did he. So was she overreacting? Everything was still within the parameters she'd set. And what had he said? Pretend, if it made it easier. She wasn't an idiot. There was a double-edged sword there, and he wanted more from her than she wanted to give, but she was in fact so turned on she couldn't think straight. She did want to trust him. For the first time in a very long time, she wanted to trust a man not to hurt her, break her.

"I don't let go of control to anyone."

"You will to me."

Last night, in imagining what he might have planned today until she was aching and wet, she'd told herself this was the ultimate test of control. She wore a corset every day of her working life to remind her how important it was to hold the reins, remain even-tempered, clear-headed. What more ultimate test could be devised than one that tapped into one of her more private fantasies? Should she deny herself, just because one man was intuitive enough to ferret them out and she was embarrassed?

Straightening and stepping away from him, she arranged her clipped hair properly on her shoulder, smoothed her hands down the front of the form-hugging sweater. "Shall we go, then?"

His fierce gaze grew even headier as his full lips lifted in a smile. God, like she needed a reminder of what he could do with those lips. Retrieving a folder from the desk, he opened the office door for her, gestured her to precede him.

As she stepped out the door, the feeling returned. Like she was something entirely different from Cassandra Moira, negotiations specialist from Pickard Consulting. She had decorative cuffs on her wrists and ankles she couldn't remove, and was wearing a sex toy that was teasing her clit and anus with every sauntering, pendulum stride she made. A stride dictated by teetering heels and a wasp-waisted corset he'd run his hands over appraisingly as if he'd laced her into it himself. She did feel like a nameless, exotic sex slave, being brought by her master to a public forum for display. It gave her a shiver of erotic longing that shocked her, even as she knew he'd promised nothing that happened in the board room would be known to the others.

Oh, hell. Enough with the fantasies. He'd promised her release, but she wasn't fooled.

This part was about control. He wanted her to shake her head at him, ask him to stop.

Depend on him for control of her own body. Her mind told her she wouldn't let him win, while her body and soul clamored for just that. She wanted this claiming, far too much.

Six

"Good morning, Miss Moira." Matt pulled out a chair from the long side of the lotus-shaped conference table. "It's good to have you back among us. There's coffee and some muffins if you need anything."

"No, I'm fine. Thank you." Cass noted Jon and Peter were conferring on some point at the end of the table, though both rose with pleasant nods when she entered, taking their seats only after she did. Ben gave her a friendly smile and a wink, though he was on his cell in the corner.

"Lucas, they've got you set up in the audiovisual booth over there, if you want to check it and get ready to run your stat sheets." Matt gestured. "The mic's open so you should be able to hear us, and just hit the speaker if you need to change anything."

She'd wondered about the ear wig, but now it became clear. A set of panels had been removed one wall, revealing a glassed-in equipment room that apparently controlled the high-tech audiovisual aids Matt and his team had available to them.

It was also strategic. She could imagine during videoconferences that Lucas's positioning in the booth would allow him to make observations about the meeting to Matt privately, through something like her ear wig. Which meant Lucas could talk to her during this meeting without anyone else hearing him. He'd just added another weapon to his arsenal.

Lucas left her with a courteous nod and a lingering touch on her shoulder. "Enjoy the meeting," he said. She took his words as the threat she was certain they were.

As she got herself settled, trying to relax and not think about when he'd turn on the device he had seated so snugly against her most intimate places, the windows were darkened.

Nine of the twelve screens on the opposite wall became one image. When it flickered, they were looking into a conference room a world away. She noted the circle of five Japanese managers, with a female translator there to interpret nuances of meaning if needed, since she knew all of them spoke fluent English. As Matt thanked them for extending their workday, since the time difference in Tokyo made it evening there, Lucas apparently decided it was the perfect time to test her reception.

"Cass, do me a favor." His warm voice was so clear, it was as if he were right there next to her. "Spread out your notes the way you want them, then place your ankles against the front legs of your chair. Lay your arms on the armrests. Make sure you're comfortable that way."

She wondered if he was going to tease her with further fantasies, tell her to imagine that she was bound and not move her hands. She could agree to that, for if they were already curved over the ends of the chair arms, she wouldn't have to embarrass herself with an obvious need to grip something for calm. Complying, she glanced toward the glassed-in booth. To all appearances, he was absorbed in setting up the presentation.

A faint vibration shuddered through the wood under her arms and behind her calves, a barely there impression gone before she could analyze it, but Lucas supplied the explanation. "You're going to find you can't lift your hands or ankles now. There are powerful magnets in the bracelets, matching those embedded in the chair."