Rescuing Regina (6 page)

I nodded.

“Good girl.” Cole kissed my forehead. Entirely unsatisfactory, but I’d take it.

God, I was so in love with this man.

“First, I’m going to test your obedience. Go to the bedroom and put on the clothes I laid out for you.”

Annoyance curled through me, but I told myself I’d signed on for this.

“Bossypants,” I muttered under my breath as I headed to the bedroom. I was curious to see what sort of clothes Cole wanted me to wear.

“Oh, hell no.” I lifted the flimsy black and white dress. It was a French maid outfit, complete with frilly apron.

I heard Cole behind me. He’d followed me, anticipating a tantrum.

“No,” I said. “No, no, no.” The fabric was silky and fine, but there wasn’t much of it. The outfit came with silky panties and sexy black heels. My pussy clenched at the thought of wearing something so enticing for Cole, but my pride overruled it. “No, Cole. Just no.”

“Hush.” He caught my chin in two fingers and held me still. The gesture sent tremors of submission through me. “You will wear this dress because I want it, and you belong to me.”

“Is this some sort of sick fantasy I play into?”

“Maybe. But you’re going to do what I want, when I want. You may not like all of it, but you can trust me. You know that.” He released me. “Say ‘prison’ and you can go. Otherwise, change.”

I threw the outfit on the bed. “This is so wrong.”

“So is a beautiful, intelligent young woman throwing her whole life away because she’s too proud to ask for help.”

“You don’t understand, Cole. All I have is my pride.”

“Not anymore. I’m going to take your pride. And give you something more.”

“What’s that?”

“Peace.” He took the outfit from me and folded it carefully. “You don’t have to think, or worry. I’m taking care of all it, sweetheart. It’s going to be hard, but you can do it. I believe in you. Now get dressed, little maid.” He swatted my rear as he headed towards the door. “My house isn’t going to clean itself.”

I growled to myself as I changed. I felt two things: the acute curl of humiliation suspiciously located in my groin, and a resigned agreement to what he said. My life was a mess. If he was volunteering to fix it…well, the jury was still out on that. Until then, I’d dress up like his sex dream and pretend things were all right.

There were worse fates than living out Cole’s fantasies.

The outfit fit perfectly. The top smoothed over my bust and left my back bare. The skirt was a joke, but the sky-high heels made my usually dumpy legs look longer. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the fabric over my curves.

I was nervous. Nervous to meet Sheriff Sadist and his pervy fantasy. But I wanted him to like what he saw.

I wanted to please him.

That thought annoyed me most of all.

Gritting my teeth, I put it all on. My breasts almost spilled out, but I supposed that was the point. After ten years of trying to cover up my huge breasts, wearing baggy t-shirts in summer and carefully picking necklines for work, it was a relief to flaunt my curves.

I peeked in the full-length mirror. Holy hotness. The costume looked amazing with my hourglass figure. All the doubt I had washed away when I realized I was in Cole’s house wearing a sexy outfit by his request. Nay, by his order.

Beat the hell outta doing time.

Inspired, I swiped on some more mascara and smudged some eyeliner for a foxy look. “Here goes nothing.”

I clopped back into the kitchen. Cole was across the room on the phone, his tall form silhouetted in light coming through the window. I caught my breath at his broad shoulders, his body lean but obviously muscular. The long legs, the taut waist. His trim form filled out the sheriff’s uniform perfectly—and I usually ran at the sight of uniforms. It helped that under the standard issue black trousers was a perfect ass.

He turned slightly and I admired his profile—the strong jaw, the patrician nose. There was a reason the townspeople voted him sheriff at the tender age of twenty-eight. He had an air about him that said: “Trust me. I’m a leader.” It also said, “Cross me at your peril.” Cole Townsend was the total package.

When he caught sight of me, he did a double take. I stepped out of the hall, tugging on the skirt as if it could somehow lengthen and cover more of me.

Striding into the kitchen, he signaled me to twirl. My gut clenched, but so did my pussy.

I pirouetted, teetering a little on the heels.

His face when I finished was a wonder.

“I’ll call you back,” he said, and ended the call. Cocking his head, he looked me up and down.

“I think it fits okay.” My face felt red.

The heat in his eyes told me how well it fit.

He advanced and I had the wild idea to back away from his predatory look.

My cheeks flushed as he loomed over me, not a hand’s breath between us. Reaching down, he tugged at my outfit, straightening it. Hands at my side, I let him.

“You’re beautiful, Regina. Relax.” His hands held me carefully.

“I feel exposed.”

“It’s just me.” He smiled, and my breath left me in a whoosh. I hadn’t realized I was holding it. He continued turning me this way and that, admiring the black satin over the swell of my breasts and ass. “You should wear this all the time.”

“Are you going to make me?”

“Maybe,” he said, almost thoughtful. “It really does suit you.”

I stuck my tongue out at him.

He tweaked my nose. “None of that. Do that again and I’ll make you do chores with a clothespin on your tongue.”

“Is that what I’m going to be doing? Chores?”

“What else?” His eyebrows raised, as if daring me to argue.

I sighed and kept my mouth shut.

He showed me the closet of cleaning supplies. “I have to go into work, but you can get started.” He handed me a duster. “Clean from top to bottom, so you don’t shake dust on what you’ve already—”

“I know how to clean.” I gripped the duster like it was a sword, and imagined stabbing him with it.

He nodded slowly. Then, with a hand on the back of my neck, he bent me over and swatted my bottom. Hard.

I yelped. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just wanted to see how you look with a red handprint on your butt. And now I know.”

He gathered his things and looked me up and down one more time. I didn’t put up a fuss. A part of me felt I even deserved to be standing in the kitchen of my childhood crush, completely humiliated.

“Get cleaning.”

***

As I dusted, I took the opportunity to poke into Cole’s personal things. Everywhere I looked, I found evidence that Cole was every bit of the fine, upstanding civil servant people believed him to be. The rooms were neat and clean, which made my job easier. Everything had a place from the tools in the mudroom to the neatly folded clothes in his dresser. There were no skeletons in any closet. I checked—twice. Even his garbage can was clean.

I was starting to suspect he wasn’t human.

Giving up on dusting (as if dust dared to mar this perfect man’s home), I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. Exertion had brought color to my cheeks, but I still looked sleek and cool in the white lace and black satin. The fabric was soft to touch and made me ultra aware of my lush, feminine body.

It struck me that, in a twisted way, I was living my own fantasy as well as Cole’s. Under different circumstances, tottering around the smoking hot sheriff’s house dressed as a naughty maid could be the hottest thing I’d ever done.

Wait, it WAS the hottest thing I’d ever done.

My hands roamed over my body faster. I stroked my breasts, admiring their swell under the silky fabric. I turned and lifted the skirt to check out my ass, imagining pulling it up for Cole, showing off…

Now my face was bright with arousal. I sank onto the big bed and touched myself, imagining Cole’s sleek body moving on top of me, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he planted his arms on either side of my head. His eyes would pierce mine and he’d thrust…

I came in seconds, wet heat running over my hand.

“God,” I gasped. One orgasm barely made a dent in my arousal.

I was hot and horny, and dressed like Cole’s wet dream. He better come home soon, or I’d do something to make sure the sheriff made house calls.

Like set his house on fire.

Stomping through the house, I jabbed the duster into corners blindly. Horny desperation made me scowl.

Goddamn Cole. Who was this man, that he could degrade me so thoroughly, and make me enjoy it?

My only hope for escape was to find some piece of damning information, and blackmail him. There was a locked black box under his bed, and another, smaller one in the mudroom. I was no locksmith, so couldn’t open them to find evidence of his kink. Whips, chains, floggers—even fluffy handcuffs…but there was nothing—besides the naughty maid costume. And I was wearing that, so technically I was the biggest evidence of Cole’s kink.

There was no office, but a black laptop sat on an ottoman. Not standard police issue, so it must be Cole’s personal one. I dusted around it.

His laptop tempted me. Did I really want to see a browser history full of fetish porn?

Answer: yes.

Damn thing had a password.

The front door opened and I scrambled up. How did he drive up so quietly?

He paused on the landing, his gaze sweeping around the house. Somehow, I knew he guessed what I’d been up to.

“Did you have an interesting time while I was away?”

“Yes,” I steeled my shoulders. “You were in the running for most freakishly neat man on the planet, but were disqualified because your spice cabinet isn’t alphabetized.”

“You can do that first thing tomorrow morning.” His gaze settled on his laptop.

I squirmed, realizing I hadn’t put it back where I found it. “I wanted to check my email.”

He raised a brow but said nothing as he stalked to the laptop and typed in the password. His long fingers flew over the keys. He had beautiful hands, graceful and slender. I pretended I hadn’t been staring when he turned the laptop to me.

Mollified by his trust, I went ahead and checked my email. I did snoop once he left the room to change clothes. The browser history was clear—someone had erased it recently—but there was a document saved to the desktop marked “Private.”

I opened and found a list of chores, each assigned to a day.

Cole’s hands settled on my shoulders and I jumped.

“I’d like you to stick to a schedule.”

“‘Kay,” I said, a bit breathless from his close proximity. “Bathroom, kitchen…when am I to dust the dungeon? Or do you have your other slaves clean it?”

“No dungeon. No other slaves. You’re my first.” He played with the hair on the back of my neck, and every part of me stood at attention. Especially my clitoris. It was like I hadn’t masturbated at all.

I closed the laptop. “Cole.”

“Yes?”

“When are we going to…you know?” His elegant fingers stroked my neck, sending tremors through my body. I twisted to face him. “You’re killing me here.”

“Am I?”

“If I die of lust, it’ll be manslaughter.”

“Good luck getting a jury to convict me.” His arms went around me and he nuzzled my neck.

“They’ll convict you.” His lips found my skin and I gasped under the sudden assault. “One look and they’ll know you’re a lady killer.”

He kept kissing my neck, tugging the neckline aside to reveal my shoulder. I sighed and pressed back into him, awash with desire.

“Cole, please.”

“Please, what, Regina?”

“Uh…”

“Use your words.”

“I can’t—”

I pivoted and pressed my mouth on his. He kissed me back, a hand coming up to knot in my hair. His lips were forceful and claiming.

Then he jerked my head back. “Enough,” he said, and stood, leaving me wet and panting.

And bereft.

“Cole?” I stared at his straight back, the rigid line of his shoulders.

“Yes, Regina?”

I blinked back tears. This was more humiliating and painful than all the past twenty-four hours put together. “Do you not want me?”

His reaction was instantaneous. He turned and scooped me into his arms, settling back on the couch. “It’s not that, sweetheart. You’re beautiful.”

“Then why—?” My breath caught as pain sliced through me. “Why would you make me do this, if you won’t have sex with me?” My clit throbbed unhappily.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s not you. It’s me. I just want everything to be perfect.”

“Do I please you?”

His arms tightened. “Yes, my god yes, you please me. You’re all I ever wanted.”

A huge weight lifted off of me. To go from secure, independent working woman to disheveled sex object should’ve been disconcerting, but somehow with Cole it wasn’t. It was what I’d always wanted.