Master Connor (Marshall Cottage Book 3) (2 page)

He stood swiftly, standing before me, so tall I had to look up to see his face.

“Whatever for? We’ve only just met.”

My stomach rolled over again.
Please don’t let me be sick. Not yet. Not until I get outside.
“Um, I really shouldn’t have joined. I… You…you’re not my type.”
God forgive me for lying.

“Not your type? Mr M assured me we were a perfect match, and you’re
very
much
my
type.”

“I am?”

“Indeed you are. Please, sit with me for a while. At least let me spend some time with you before you go dashing off like Cinderella.” He glanced down at my high-heeled black shoes. “Although Cinderella didn’t wear such a charming pair of stilettos.”

Charming? That word reminded me of him, and he was Prince Charming all right, and so not the type of man I had ever dared to date before. I had never approached a god such as he, for fear of receiving unbridled laughter at my request for a date, to be Mastered. I didn’t enjoy blushing from shame one little bit.

“Uh, okay. Maybe I can talk to you for a few minutes. But then I really do have to go home.” I sat back down, my basque squeaking and my face heating further. What if he’d thought I’d made that sound? What if he thought—?

“Leather, you’ve got to love the noises it makes,” he said, sitting beside me again. “Especially from
specific
implements.”

I laughed quietly, processing what he’d just said.
Specific implements.
I had always loved leather, had fancied wearing a basque and stilettos for ages but hadn’t dared to until tonight.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked, indicating a glass door with an elegant wave of his hand. “I promise it will only be one, and it’s soft drinks here—no one gets taken advantage of due to alcohol.”

I did want a drink, a soda that would burn away the dry fuzz that had suddenly coated my mouth. I nodded then allowed him to steer me across the foyer.

He stopped at the door to the bar and smiled down at me.

“What’s your name? Sir? Mr M never said.” I lowered my gaze—if I looked at his face for much longer I might rise up on tiptoe and press my lips to his. And that just wouldn’t do. I’d appear wanton, forward, and I was far from that. Yet something about him gave me a sense of wanting to set myself free, do things I’d never done—before it was too late and I scampered away home.

Stupid. You’re just being stupid. Have a drink, a little chat, and see where it goes from there. He’s not going to whip you, or bend you over his knee and spank you without your consent. This isn’t some dodgy outfit.

“I’m Master Connor. And Mr M didn’t tell you anything about me because I asked him not to. He has in the past, and the women who chose me based on what he’d said have been types who didn’t hold my interest at all. But you…” He leaned down, brushing his lips across the top of my head. “Are far from that.”

Oh, God. If he did that again… My stomach knotted, my cheeks heated even further—
I must look a sight by now
—and I grew wet between my legs. What the hell was happening to me? My response to just a simple brush of lips on my head was ridiculous. My throat tightened. I opened my mouth to speak but found I couldn’t utter a thing.

I managed a weak smile—that would have to do for now—and he gave one back, showing straight, white teeth some high-class dentist must be very proud of. He stood upright and inclined his head as though about to ask me something but changed his mind. Linking arms with me, he took me into the bar. Soft music filtered from speakers, and everyone chattered, a far cry from the scene in the other room. Here it seemed sex was off limits, a place where people could just talk.

“What would you like to drink?” He smiled at me. He then nodded to the bartender for service. He returned his attention to me, penetrative eyes seeking mine out. Did he see something in them, see into my soul and who I really was?

I shivered, but that ripple going up my spine wasn’t unpleasant. No, it warmed me in places that shouldn’t be warmed in a bar full of people.
That
kind of warmth belonged in the bedroom.

He dipped his head and said in my ear, “I have a private room here, if there are certain things on your mind. The third floor is more like a hotel, where you can stay here after the night’s events if you choose. We can talk there.” Drawing back, he glanced at my midsection, as if he’d read my thoughts and knew what was going on between my legs.

I blushed again and swallowed. “I’m…uh… To answer your first question, I’d like a glass of fizzy iced water please, and to your second comment…do you come here often?”

He smiled. “No.” He reached out to tuck away a stray tress that had fallen from my up-do. “I rarely
come
at all.”

Chapter Two

I hid a choke of surprise by lightly coughing. “Oh. Right. I—”

“Because I only come with women I have some affection for, or the very least some…knowledge that we are suited. Do you know, there’s something about you, Miss Newbie.”

I wasn’t his kind, surely. Yes, he’d called me Newbie—it must have stood out a mile that I wasn’t in the know about certain things—and I really would be wasting his time. Although he hadn’t done anything to deserve me feeling uneasy, there was something about
him
that worried me. Or perhaps it wasn’t him but what he represented. Pain I’d never experienced but wanted to know more about. A lifetime of being told what to do in bed. Being spanked because I hadn’t done as I’d been told.

I didn’t belong here. He was serious—this place was serious.

I’d have this drink and go, despite how he made me quiver in my ‘charming’ high heels.

The barman came to serve us, and while Connor gave our order, I thought about the new information I’d gleaned. A good-looking Master like him would have women falling all over him, yet he
claimed
he didn’t sleep with women very often. I’d thought, from his looks and whatnot, that he’d have used subs to his advantage. Every other man I knew who had charisma and a handsome face had slept their way through a hundred or more women before they’d got to me. Or so they’d implied.

Maybe he’s lying. Maybe he’s got more handcuff notches on his bedpost than the average Master.

But Marshall Cottage had been the only place around here that seemed to provide what I wanted. I hadn’t been able to find a website with the address of Please Master Me for One Night so I Can See if I’m a Pretend Sub or Not Dot Com.

The barman clunked a large bottle of soda water on the bar, bringing me out of my thoughts. Master Connor thanked him, offering no payment, and I supposed he had an account. Going by his appearance, it stood to reason he’d have a tab, didn’t it?

“I was poor once,” he said, seeming to pick up on my thoughts.

“Oh, right.” I felt stupid not saying anything more, but what
could
I say? If I mentioned his obvious wealth—his suit gave him away, as did a beautiful gold ring—he might think of me as a gold digger.

“But everything changed when I—” He smiled at me, not in the least perturbed at having stopped midsentence, and jerked his head, indicating that I follow him to one of the booths.

The booths the couples occupied.

“But they’re all full,” I said, looking up at him.

He held two glasses in one hand and the unopened water bottle in the other. “Really?” His smile reached his eyes, then he walked on, weaving through the crowd.

I remained where I was, watching the sway of his suit jacket, unsure whether to follow or just turn tail and run. I wanted to do both in equal measure and, frustrated, dithered from foot to foot, deciding which option to take. He turned then, glancing back at me with one eyebrow quirked, and as though my feet had a mind of their own, I took a step forward. He’d stopped in front of an empty booth. Where had the people who’d been inside it gone? Had I been that wrapped up in him I hadn’t noticed them leaving? It was possible, but I prided myself in staying alert in a strange place. Knowing I’d let my guard down so soon bothered me a little.

“Oh, fuck it!” I breathed and strode toward him.

One glass of water wouldn’t hurt, and besides, I’d paid for this introduction, and I’d damned well get at least a half hour of his time to make the payment worth it. Whether I could carry it off, acting like someone I wasn’t, I didn’t know, but I’d try—try to be sophisticated and all the things he was bound to expect from a woman. So far, I’d shown him I might possibly be denser than wood in the brain department and I was someone who gave stupid answers to completely normal questions.

Lack of self-confidence was a bitch.

My basque squeaked again as I sat in the enclosed booth. He situated himself beside me, thigh once again pressing against mine, and smiled such a devilishly charming smile that I just knew it had something to do with that sound. What on earth did he like leather-wise?

Before I could stop myself, I asked, “So. You like leather?”

“Oh, I do.” He winked then focused on pouring the water. “And so do you.”

“And you know this how?” I reached forward to pick up a glass then took a long sip of water. The cold fluid pooled in my empty stomach. I looked at him over the rim of the glass.

“I know lots of things,” he said mysteriously, with a hint of the sexy danger I’d only ever dreamt about. “Lots of things about you.”

If I didn’t know Mr M vetted everyone, I might have found Master Connor’s comment creepy. But it did make me wonder whether his background search on people extended to poking around in private lives to the degree that he had people out there asking questions. I wasn’t sure, but Master Connor’s comment about me liking leather…

It could just have been because you have a basque on. A lucky guess.

“Mr M,” I said. “He finds out quite a bit then, does he?” I asked.

“He does.”

“So how come I don’t get the same privilege? How come he’s told you all about me, but I know nothing about you?”

“Did you tick the box for information?” He leaned back against the seat, slightly to one side, a pose that gave off the impression he liked to lounge, to take things in his stride.

“I didn’t see that box,” I said, feeling foolish and utterly ridiculous that I hadn’t even been able to get that right.

“Then imagine you ticked it, and I’ll fill in all the answers.”

I nodded. “All right, Sir.”

“Banker, kind-hearted, usually a private Dom—settings such as this place are all right, but I like my sub all to myself. There are private rooms here, but they never seem private enough, which is why I like renting a suite upstairs. I’ve lived in this city all my life. I’m thirty-eight, well over six feet tall, and my dark hair is natural, although I may well have to resort to a dye or two in a few years.” He laughed. “I’m fond of sports, although I tend not to participate much beyond running on a treadmill at the gym. Never been married. Never had a relationship that has lasted more than two years. No children. Should I go on?”

I cleared my throat. “Um, no, I think I have enough information for now, Sir.”

“Good. So what would you like to talk about now?”

I took a deep breath. Stared into his lovely eyes. “Tell me everything—everything I need to know, Sir. I want to claim my one-nighter, thank you.”

* * * *

Now suddenly uneasy after he’d made me relaxed while talking, I wavered in the doorway to Master Connor’s suite. Oh, I’d agreed to come up here, the chat giving me courage, and told myself that if a person signed up for a one-nighter then that’s what they should get. Master Connor was a dream to look at, had impeccable manners, and seemed to genuinely find me amusing, someone he wanted to spend time with. We’d talked about anything and everything and lots more in the booth I would always think of now as our own. How had Mr M been able to find someone who fitted me so perfectly? I just had to hope he was a fit in other areas too.

Rather than dissect the whys and wherefores, and how Master Connor seemed to know one hell of a lot about me—more than a casual search would show up—I took a deep breath and promised myself one night of pain and passion. Shit, I’d never get the chance again, not with someone as divine as Master Connor, so I might as well go for it.

Master Connor had walked over to the large living room window while I’d been wobbling in the doorway. He turned now, gave me a lopsided grin then motioned with his head that I join him. I closed the door then tried my best to walk without teetering, feeling ungainly in my heels.

“Much as I adore those heels,” he said, “get them off.”

My stomach muscles contracted—my God, he was going to send me into the crazy land of creaming my knickers if he commanded me like that again.

“And come here.”

I’m there. In Crazy Land. With creamed knickers.

I kicked off my heels, concentrating on not falling over. Trying a sexy saunter, I made my way toward him. I thought I’d pulled it off well enough, and if I went by the glitter in his eyes, I definitely had.

Standing before him, with my heart pattering way too fast and my knees weakening beneath his smoldering gaze, I waited, wanting more commands to spill from his lips.

“Please, tell me what to do. I have no idea how to act, how to do anything like this… Sir.”

“Then I’ll teach you. Show you.”

I swallowed deeply to combat my nerves. “But you don’t under
—
”

“Don’t question things, pet. Just for tonight, accept that this is happening, and tomorrow will take care of itself.”

What was he, some kind of magician? I couldn’t refuse him. Not when he looked at me as he was doing now, all half-lidded brown eyes and a smile that would charm the birds from the trees. He’d charmed me on glass of water number one, and if I was honest, he’d charmed me right from when I’d first set eyes on him. Love at first sight just didn’t happen, not to me, but lust at first sight did—and I could recognize this situation for exactly what it was.