Authors: Joely Sue Burkhart
“So we should test them in some way,” Mal said, her voice huskier than usual.
Victor hid a smile. Even a simple storyboard image of her boyfriend affected her. He watched Shiloh and noted the tiny quirk of her mouth. She’d noticed too, and was pleased by the Mistress’s reaction. More, he guessed Shiloh had deliberately started with Andy’s image to ensure Mal was interested.
Just as she deliberately challenged me to win the title of the Master.
“Absolutely,” Shiloh continued. “It can be something small or more meaningful. An order to remove an item of clothing or to serve one of the judges in some small way. We should show both sides: rude, desperate bottoms who cling and make nuisances of themselves, as well as the polite, trained ones who know exactly what to do when approaching a Dominant for the first time, trying to garner interest on the scene.”
Shiloh pulled another board forward. In this one, a contestant sat in a comfortable chair with another woman. The contestant wore a simple white shift and corset, while the other lady was dressed in a vintage—but not riding—gown. They were faceless behind elaborate masks.
“We need a host for the show whose main job is to interview the contestants and talk the audience through the judges’ expectations. This scene should highlight the importance of the questionnaire about what the sub wants to do, is willing to try, and the absolutely-do-not-want-to-do list. Since our underlying concern is education, we should also touch on the contestant’s medical history and make it very clear that the scene should always be safe, sane and consensual. To keep it interesting, we should highlight the emotions, making it arousing or even comedic, depending on the final contestants. The host should be unafraid to touch on the emotional or sensitive topics but still have a great sense of humor.”
“I think Georgia would be perfect for this,” Mal said. “That would certainly take some of the sting out of losing her star role on
Internet Secrets
. Her Southern charm will appeal to the audience.”
“Agreed.” Victor had to admit he was impressed with the way Shiloh had managed to weave basic, solid good sense of the scene with interesting, dramatic show content. “One question, though. Why the Victorian wear?”
“I thought the corsets and strict morality of the era made a nice contrast to the openly sexual tone of the show.” Shiloh gave a little shrug, her cheeks touched with an endearing blush. For the first time, her gaze slipped away, giving him the cue that she was personally affected by such clothing. “Plus we had all the costumes on hand thanks to the Victorian Country House Party spoof VCONN did three years ago.”
“Creativity
and
frugality,” he drawled out, letting his voice heat. “I like it. Plus, corsets are damned hot. Don’t you agree, Mal?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Mal purred out a laugh that had been known to send male submissives into a helpless squirming heap at her feet. “It might be fun to give it a modern twist, though, so it’s not obvious that we’re recycling old costumes. How about we mix in some steampunk elements? Something a bit futuristic with wings, goggles and weird machines. I bet Andy could concoct a fantastic steampunk contraption that will blow the subs’ minds.”
Smiling, Victor stood and reached out to take Shiloh’s hand. “You’ve sold us, Ms. Holmes. Mal and I will co-produce the show, but I’d like for you to be the show runner.”
Her eyes gleamed, shimmering with unshed tears. “Thank you so much, Mr. Connagher. It’s an honor to work with you.”
He didn’t release her hand and she made no move to pull away. “Mal, get to work on the contracts for our in-house people. For sure, lock Georgia into the host position if she’s interested. We need to be taping by the end of the week. Preferably tomorrow if we can swing the set. Make sure every single person down to the lowest gaffer on set signs the confidentiality agreement. I don’t want a single word of this leaking before we’re ready.”
“I’m on it.” Mal gave Shiloh a knowing smile and headed for the door. “Welcome to the team, Ms. Holmes.”
“Just Shiloh, please,” she said, smiling.
The door shut. Victor watched the emotions flaring in her eyes and across her face: pure, sunny excitement, lip-biting anticipation, growing warmth in her eyes the longer she stared back at him. Slowly, he tightened his fingers. Her breathing caught, quickened, and her eyes turned smoky and heavy-lidded without a single hint of fear.
“If I must be one of the judges competing for the title of Master, then you must be a,” barely, he managed to avoid saying
my
, “submissive for the show.”
She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and it was all he could do not to lean down and place his own teeth on that tender flesh. “I hope it’s not too presumptuous of me to admit that’s exactly what I planned.”
He squeezed harder, waiting for that little gasp of pain that said he’d gone far enough…so he could go just a little bit further. “There were easier ways to approach me than to devise an entire show to lure yourself into my clutches.”
She laughed, a low groan that was music to his ears. God, it had been entirely too long since he’d worked a responsive sub over and enjoyed that symphony of pain and pleasure. “It wouldn’t have been very professional of me to prance into your office stark naked.”
“Not professional,” he agreed, drawing her closer. “But a damned pretty sight. Are you going to be able to handle show runner duties as well as putting up with me on set?”
“Of course.” She blinked away some of the haze darkening her eyes. “I’ve dreamed of nothing else for months. I can do it, Mr. Connagher.”
He squeezed harder, his grip brutal, he knew, crushing her delicate hand in his big palm that could still throw a football in a perfect spiral at fifty yards. Greedy, starved, he felt as crazed as an addict who’d fallen off the wagon after years of abstinence.
She whimpered, a cry that sliced his heart into ribbons even while lighting a fire in his blood that wanted her writhing and screaming, begging him to stop.
It’s better to know now,
he tried to console himself, waiting for her to jerk away. Maybe she’d slap him and stomp out of VCONN entirely. It would be the best for both of them. Certainly safer than putting herself into his hands, hoping he’d have the mercy and decency to control himself without committing serious harm.
Knees crumpling, she fell against him, sliding down his legs so she knelt at his feet. Rubbing her cheek against his stomach, she twisted her head so she could look up at him. “What may I call you, sir?”
Hauled up and tossed into a chair, Shiloh sat shaken and confused, staring at Mr. Connagher as he paced back and forth. She cradled her throbbing hand in her lap. Each thud of her heart spread that pain like a pulse through her body, melting her bones and priming her for his full attention.
What did I do wrong?
“When we’re alone, then you can call me Victor, a mean sonofabitch, or a low-down dirty bastard, anything you want.” He jerked to a halt and whirled to face her, his eyes blazing. “But we need to take care that you’re alone with me as little as possible.”
“I don’t understand,” she said carefully. “Are you not…available?”
He jerked his hair tighter, and she winced in sympathy for his tortured scalp. He must have one hell of a headache. “I’m so available I’m about to tear the seams in my pants.”
Studying his hair kept her gaze from wandering lower to see just how
available
he might be. He hadn’t made any outright claims on her, so she didn’t feel like she had the right to ogle him. Yet.
“It will be safer for us both if we limit our interaction to the show, at least until I’ve been able to take some of the edge off.”
He looked so glum, that she started to rise so she could wrap her arms around him. Throwing up his hand to ward her off, he resumed his furious pacing while he slapped his right thigh. Her skin heated, tingling with longing. She wanted those slaps on her body, not his.
The longer he paced, the more he began to favor his left knee, until his limp was pronounced. Victor Connagher had been a college football star on the verge of the NFL when he’d blown his knee in a championship game. Pictures from his glory days were in the case downstairs. By all accounts, he would have been a star for any professional team.
Tears burned her eyes. Until now, she’d never seen him display any weakness, any hint that the old injury still pained him.
Finally he growled out, “I don’t want to go too fast for you.”
“Too fast?” She laughed, but it came out harsh to her ears. “I’ve been planning this show for months, hoping, praying you might…”
That you might need me as badly as I need you.
Although she’d often seen him around VCONN Tower, she didn’t know how to approach him while at work. It was just too sleazy for her to come on to him as she’d joked. She’d even gone to a mixer hosted by the bondage club to get an introduction, but the frenzied feeding-ground atmosphere just wasn’t her style. Besides, he hadn’t even been there. During her research, she’d scanned Silken’s current membership roster, but it hadn’t included his name, which didn’t really surprise her. Many prominent members would rather keep their names secret or at least low key, which was one of the reasons she’d devised a show where everyone could wear masks.
Fantasizing about him had only made her attraction worse. Nothing could touch the aching black hole that expanded day by day deep in her belly. Nothing but him. The pain in her hand only served to wake up that miserable, ravenous monster. She wanted him with that riding crop he’d mentioned in his hand, wicked and hard and wild. After he’d put that image in her mind, nothing else would do.
“How else was I supposed to introduce myself as an interested submissive? A f—” self-censoring in mid-word, she changed to, “freaking letter?”
He gripped her chin and tilted her face back up to him. A smile softened his face, but not his grip. “I’d much rather have this show than a letter. I’m pleased, Shiloh, more than I can say.” Shadowed desire flickered in his eyes despite his encouragement and his fingers dug into her cheeks. Even in trying to comfort her, he wasn’t—couldn’t be—gentle. “I am available, I promise you, and so attracted that I don’t trust myself right now. It’s been a long time since I did a scene, and I never…”
His jaws worked back and forth as though it took all his concentration to soften his grip on her face. Sighing, he released her and turned away. “I don’t want to seriously hurt you.”
Incredulous, she stared at him, her mind whirling in a frenzy.
Victor Connagher, the fiercest, most incredible Master she’d ever hoped to meet in her life…was afraid.
Chapter Three
“Um, you do know that I would love for you to hurt me, right?”
Victor sucked in his breath and demanded his body remain calm and controlled like the Dominant he was, not a rampant horny puppy.
“Do you want proof?”
“Absolutely not.” Her voice was so sultry he was afraid the windows of the conference room might fog over. Just the thought of sliding his hand beneath her proper business skirt to see how wet she was made him shudder. Maybe he’d strip those dampened panties off and slip them into his pocket. Then he’d make her walk around the set bare, needy, ready for him…
He deliberately shifted his weight to his bad knee, enduring the ache until his mind cleared.
“I would if you told me to,” she said in a solemn, gentle voice that made his blood pump harder. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it without question.”
“What I want,” he growled out, turning to face her with his most intimidating glare, “is for you to quit playing with me.”
He cursed his poor word choice as soon as they left his lips.
Laughing softly, she stood and began to gather up her presentation. “I haven’t even begun playing with you yet.”
Damn it all to hell, she gave him her back. To him! Uncaring, unafraid, with a little flirty glance over her shoulder, she walked toward the door with her storyboards tucked under her arm.
He pounced, seized her in unforgiving hands, and slammed her against the wall. He pinned her with his body, using every inch of his taller, stronger, muscled frame to punish her for such audacity, grinding her against the wall. Storyboards tumbled to the floor.
And the little saucy wench arched into him with a welcoming sigh.
Dropping his forehead against hers, he sucked in a breath and held it for a count of ten, tightening the reins of his control. “Save it for the show or I’m going to drag you off to my dungeon and torture you to my heart’s content.”
“Promises, promises.”
He couldn’t help but laugh then. God, her spirit was unflappable. “You don’t know what kind of player I am. I’m on the edge, baby, and as heavy as you can take it. And then, since I’m a selfish, cruel bastard, I’m going to take you even further.” He swallowed hard and forced the words out. “I want to hurt you real bad.”
“Good,” she purred.
“Damn it, don’t you know the difference between sensual pain and downright injured? Give me some space and time to—”
“Yes, sir.”
He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. Had he been away from serious play for so long that he’d forgotten the most basic elements of a scene? Of course she’d rather have his orders. “On the show, I’m Master V.” She nodded, staring at him intently. “
Your
Master.”
Her body sagged against him and she buried her face against his neck. “Thank you, sir.”
“Off the show, I’m Victor, your boss and the producer of our show. No playing, no taunting, all business.”
“And after the show?”
Reluctantly, he backed away, keeping his hands on her until he was sure she was steady on her feet. She looked up at him with such hope and longing in her eyes that his throat closed and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. It’d been so long since a woman had looked at him like that, as though he were her entire world. As though she’d die if she failed to please him.
“If I haven’t scared you away yet,” he replied, his voice gruff with emotion, “then, God help you, you’re mine.”
Bending down to pick up her scattered boards, she flashed a smile that melted his heart. The curve of her slim spine and the rounded swell of her buttocks outlined by her skirt made his hand clench in longing for his crop. “I don’t scare easily, Mr. Connagher.”