Declaration to Submit (11 page)

“Now that’s a smile of someone who had a Vegas weekend.”

Nell whirled around and narrowed her eyes. What the hell was Pete doing here? “I worked all weekend,” she said tightly and raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Working?” Pete inquired. Shit. Pete Dawson was a reporter, a contact in the business section of the
Los Angeles Times
. She’d passed on information to him and set up interviews, the last one a desperate attempt by her company to stay in business and resist the ConFed takeover.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly, ignoring his ambiguous question.

“Someone told me that the CEO of ConFed had a private plane here.” His blue eyes were sharp and assessing. “You should know. You work for ConFed now, right?”

“Just because I work for the company doesn’t mean I get to be in such rarified circles,” she said evasively.

“Oh, come on, Nell. You know where all the bodies are buried.” He leaned closer, and she forced herself not to flinch.

“I’m afraid you overestimate me.” She gave him a steady look.

Pete cocked his head to the side. “There’s a lot more going on with this little takeover than the usual ConFed raid. A lot of money has gone unaccounted for.”

Nell froze and tried to keep her face unreadable. Poker. They were playing poker. Who the hell had given Pete this information?

“I’m just the human resources girl, Pete. Sorry.”

He studied her for a moment. “Make sure you keep your nose to the grindstone, Nell. I would hate to see it get in the wrong business.”

What did that mean? She cleared her throat and smiled. “Nice to see you, Pete. Good luck.”

She moved away quickly. The last thing she wanted was to introduce a business reporter to Mark Conners. It was clear that Mark’s early experience with the media had been traumatic and ugly. He kept his identity a secret and valued his privacy. Nell wasn’t going to risk exposing him.

She headed in the same direction Mark had gone and put distance between the reporter and herself. She glanced over her shoulder and plowed right into Mark coming back for her.

“Oooph.” She staggered, and her foot slipped out from under her. She would have landed in an undignified heap if Mark hadn’t caught her.

“Gotcha.” He smiled at her, and the flash from a camera lit up his face.

She whirled around to see Pete give her the thumbs-up and disappear. “Damn him,” she muttered.

“Who was that?” Mark’s tone was cold.

Her heart pounded, and she turned to face him. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Anelda,” he said in a warning tone.

She sighed. “His name is Pete Dawson. I know him. I can get the picture back.”

Mark frowned but took her luggage and led her to the private plane. Nell followed him and tried not to worry. Pete didn’t know who Mark was and had no idea if this was her new boss or some stranger. She would get the picture back.

The airplane was private but small, which was a little nerve-racking for Nell. She headed for one of the six seats and started to buckle herself in, but Mark called her. “We aren’t taking off for another twenty minutes. Come here.”

He had taken a seat toward the back, and when she came close enough, he gripped her wrist and pulled her into his lap. “I want you to get on your knees beside my seat, head bowed, eyes down, hands behind your back.”

She swallowed and bent her knees. The aisle of the plane’s interior was carpeted with a scratchy material that scraped her skin, keeping the fact that she was kneeling at the forefront of her mind. Mark had said they would go to the office from the airport, so she was dressed for work. A black pencil skirt, a loose, collared white blouse, and her black pumps was her typical attire. She’d worn her hair in a severe French braid to keep it contained for the trip.

When she clasped her hands behind her back, he leaned forward and flicked open the buttons of her blouse at her throat. Then he yanked on the rubber bands that held her hair and flicked through the braids until her hair cascaded down her back.

Out of his briefcase, he removed a medium-size bullet vibrator with a wireless control. He lifted her skirt and pulled off her underwear. When his fingers pressed on her clit, she rotated her hips, helpless under his domination.

He slid the bullet vibrator inside her pussy and flicked the control to an agonizing setting that kept her near the edge but not enough to take her over. Her nipples beaded, and she began to sweat from the effort of holding back an orgasm and not whimpering her need.

Without another word, he opened his laptop and began to work.

She gasped for breath, the vibrator rocking against the walls of her pussy and her clit aching for his touch. To keep her hands away from her greedy nub, she gripped her own wrists hard, straining against her own restraint.

Even at the low setting, she could feel the wave of pleasure building and started to pant. It was the strangest sensation. So close, it was almost painful to hold back. Yet she loved obeying him, letting him control it all, being back in that place of nothingness.

She relaxed and let the vibrations flow through her, slowed her breathing, lived second to second.

Time had no meaning. She was only aware of the pulses from the bullet inside her controlled by his hand. All she had to do was surrender to him, and she would be in heaven. She let the sensations roll over her and trembled. When the vibrations suddenly increased, she tensed, fighting her lust, wanting to come, wanting to obey, the tug-of-war keeping her edgy.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered, his voice tight.

When she met his gaze, she almost lost her hold on her tenuous control. Fuck, he looked like he wanted to eat her all up. “I can’t—”

His smile was wolfish. “No, you can’t.” He changed the control setting, and the bullet went at high speed.

Her back bowed, and she couldn’t stop her response. “Please, Sir.”

“Who is in control, Anelda?”

“You are, Sir.”

“And if I make you come before I tell you to come, then you have to come.” His stare was hot and sexy.

“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir!” Her hips rocked, and she fought to keep her hands behind her back. She wished he’d bound her to keep her from touching herself.

“What do you want? Do you want to come?”

“Yes yes yes,” she chanted.

The vibrations backed off, and she sobbed in protest. But he was implacable. “I’ll give you a choice, Anelda, but choose wisely.”

Punishment was implied, and he’d said the possibility of it would clear her mind. He was right. He dipped his hand down her shirt and cupped her aching breast. “I’ll make you come with the vibrator, or I’ll fuck you in the ass.”

He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and she jerked against his touch. As she considered her choices, she thought about how sweetly he’d made love to her that morning, how he’d cradled her in his arms, not like a Dominant but like a lover.

What would please him? The answer was clear. He wanted her ass. That choice hadn’t promised an orgasm for her. Only that he’d fuck her in the butt. But it would make him happy; it was what he wanted.

And she realized that was what she wanted. It made no sense. To please herself, she wanted to please him.

“My choice—” She gasped as his hand changed from squeezing her nipple to palming her breast. “Sir, would you fuck me…” She couldn’t say it. The words were there, but…it was so unlike her. “Would you fuck me in the ass?”

His hand on her breast froze. Silence. Had she said it wrong? Had she surprised him? She sneaked a glance at his face. There was a strange expression on his face, as if he’d been given something precious he didn’t want to break.

He reached down and gripped her upper arms to raise her to her feet. The vibrator continued to keep her on edge. When he stood up, she had to resist the urge to grind her cunt against his leg, to come and come hard.

But she’d made her choice, and she was going to stick to it.

She trembled when he pressed her face into the seat he’d just vacated, as he lifted her skirt and rubbed his cock against her ass. He captured her hands and moved them to cup her breasts, mashing her fingers into the cushion.

When his fingers slid along her slit, feeling the wetness there, she groaned, the agony and need almost too much. He dipped two fingers inside and dragged his soaked hand to her ass. He used her cum to lube her tight hole, and she thrust back to help him.

The sound of his zipper seemed loud before he pressed against her. When his dick probed her puckered hole, she squirmed to capture his length inside her. He leaned over her, his cock halfway in her ass, and gripped her right hand, moving it from her breast to her aching clit.

It was his fingers guiding hers that sent her screaming toward release. “Sir, I’m going to come hard! Please!”

His words were guttural and harsh. “You’d better fucking come hard. I want to hear it. I want you to scream loud. I’m going to unleash a load in your ass that will make you wet for the entire trip.”

The friction of their combined fingers and the sensation of his cock thrusting in her ass sent her into the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. He’d told her to scream. She yelled, lifting her head away from the chair, driving him deeper. It went on and on—the vibrations from the bullet, the rubbing of his hand on her cunt, and the pounding of his dick in her ass—and she kept clenching and rolling, the pleasure more than she could stand. The bullet in her pussy fell out because of the force of her orgasm and hit the floor. She didn’t care.

“That’s right, Anelda. Scream. I want you to fucking scream.”

She was hoarse, and her throat was sore, but she screamed again when he clasped his other hand over her left tit. He continued to rub her clit, and she went crazy under him as he fucked her hard.

When his hand crushed hers, she thrust back, taking more of him; his balls slapped against her flesh. He growled, and she felt the warm gush of his release fill her. She dropped over the edge again.

There was no more pain, no more anxiety about anything. She was safe, held tightly by this man. For the first time in her life, she felt totally protected. She’d never realized how closed off she’d been, how alone she’d believed herself to be until this moment.

He had released his grip on her hand in the throes of his orgasm. She reached back to touch his hair. He pressed his lips to her neck, and she had the absurd desire to cry. It was crazy. He’d fucked her in the most basic, dirty way, and yet she felt cherished and wanted. It didn’t seem like this was just fucking, just getting off.

His hands were gentle where he’d been rough, stroking her, holding her. How long they stayed like that, she didn’t know. She jumped when the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom.

“
They’re ready for us, Mr. Conners
.”

He cursed and released her slowly. “Don’t clean yourself, Anelda. I want you to smell like me for the whole plane ride.”

She didn’t think her face could get any hotter, and she knew her cheeks were a bright crimson. “Yes, Sir.”

“Sit here,” he ordered as he pointed to the chair where she’d just had her face buried. “I want you next to me.”

He reached down and picked up the vibrator that had fallen out of her pussy onto the floor along with her discarded panties and put them in her hand. “Wash that when we’re up in the air.”

“Yes, Sir.” She was stunned, bemused. Her ass was sore, and her pussy throbbed from the workout he’d given her. There were no words she could form that wouldn’t sound completely nuts, so she said very little.

She was aware that he watched her as she sat down and buckled up. Was he worried that she was going to freak out? That wasn’t what concerned her. What dominated her mind and made her tremble inside was the realization that she cared about this man. In three days, he’d won over more than just her body, and she was well aware of the danger that placed her in.

Did he know how transparent she felt? How vulnerable she felt? Certainly anal sex was nothing new to him, but for her—fuck. She hadn’t wanted to reveal so much, yet she had.

The plane’s gentle ascent made little impression on her, and as soon as the pilot announced they could get up, she was unbuckled and out of her seat. She headed for the bathroom and hoped she could get herself under control.

* * * *

As Nell hurried away, Mark watched her, and his jaw clenched.
Damn it
. He hadn’t meant to be so demanding. And he needed to remind her about her safe word again. She’d been so open, so passionate, so amazing, and then she’d shut down so quickly. Those defenses of hers were strong.

Why the hell did he keep trying to get past them?

No other woman had inspired this intense need to smash through her emotional walls and possess her. He had to keep reminding himself that he didn’t really know Nell, that the information he had on her was incomplete. What he’d found out about her was in black-and-white. He, of all people, knew intimately how that had nothing to do with the flesh-and-blood reality.

He had his own secrets, yet he wanted none with her. Every “yes, Sir” that came out of her mouth bound him deeper to her, and she didn’t even have a clue.

When he glanced down, he noted she’d hurried to the bathroom, but she hadn’t taken the vibrator. So she had run away. She probably wanted to compose herself, talk herself into that fucking mask she wore to hide from him.

He unbuckled his seat belt and swept up the vibrator. When he knocked on the door of the bathroom, he expected her to fling open the door, composed and serene.

Instead, her voice sounded so small and fragile. “Yes, Sir?”

She sounded like she’d been crying. It tore at his heart and made his stomach clench. He cleared his throat and managed to speak in a stern tone. “You forgot the vibrator.”

The silence that followed seemed to go on forever. Then she opened the door and put out her hand, staying hidden so he couldn’t see her.

Instead of handing her the toy, he hauled her out of the bathroom and to the nearest seat. He sat her in his lap and tipped her chin so he could see her expression. “Nell, talk to me,” he said softly.