The Dom's Dilemma Page 3

  "Seonagh?" Athol prompted her.

  Leave her be.

  "Dad," she replied as she got up and went to stand in front of her fathers.

  Sadly, it meant Claudio couldn't see her face. It was just as well he was adept at reading body language.

  “Yes, I've made my mind up. You know, to be honest? It's actually not anyone's business except mine. And Claudio's. But as I involved you both, I'll tell you. We're…" She giggled and Claudio fancied it was more due to nerves than amusement. "Negotiating."

  They were? Claudio kept his face blank and merely nodded. This was Seonagh's scene not his. He picked up his now cold cup of coffee and sipped. It was more sludge than anything.

  "Okay…" Athol let his breath out in a long whoosh. "Sorry for being a clucky hen."

  Claudio spluttered into his drink. "Clucky hen?"

  Edan laughed. "He does it so well, eh? I'm the cool, calm and collected one."

  Seonagh shook her head in what looked like mock exasperation. "Says the man who fainted when I got a fish hook in my palm."

  "It looked painful," Edan said in a defensive tone.

  "It was painful, and you're supposed to enjoy pain," Seonagh said with a straight face.

  "Not that sort."

  "Anyway." She didn't comment on Edan's reply. "The doctor wanted you to hold my hand still, not my legs. He fell on them," she said to Claudio. "It was like a scene from a farce. Then Athol came rushing in and didn't know who to fuss over first. The doctor groaned, said something about poufy mates who were wusses, and winked at me. He shouted for a nurse—male, hot and, sadly for me, I discovered also gay, like the doc—who shooed Athol away, took Edan with him, and let the hunky medic sort me out. I still have the scar. Look." She held her hand out. Claudio gave into temptation, took hold of her hand and rubbed his thumb over the scar.

  Next time it will be my teeth. The fleshy Mound of Venus drew him like a magnet. Seonagh gasped and Athol coughed.

  "Enough for now." Athol grunted. "I've just had my tea. So, do you need us any more?"

  "Dad, I'll always need you somehow. Just not this how." She kissed both dads on the cheek. "Love you."

  Athol turned to Claudio. "Can we take you anywhere, Martakis?"

  Claudio smiled. "On a Harley?"

  Edan burst out laughing and after a second Athol joined him. "Fuck, I forgot that."

  "Dad, I'm fine." Seonagh butted in. "You both vouched for Claudio. Hell, you suggested if I wanted to see the club and explore my…my interests, he was the man to do it with. I just wanted you here so I could say, I'm happy to chat with him, and if I do go forward, he'll show me what I want to know. Okay?"

  Edan nodded. "Say yes, Athol."

  Athol muttered under his breath. Edan poked him.

  "Oh all right, yes, Athol. But you hurt her and I'll haunt you."

  "Dad, surely it's a given, if I go ahead, he will hurt me? Think straight."

  "Damn it, what is it with clever kids? I know but, but seriously, I can't help but worry. Jesus, I'm all over full of 'buts' here. You can tell I'm gay. My sexual preferences aside, I know what we all are, and it seems a bit like a sacrificial offering." Athol snagged his leather jacket from peg on the door. "Scary."

  Claudio stood up. "Your lamb to the slaughter?"

  Athol nodded. "Precisely."

  He could understand that. Nevertheless there were no words he could use to reassure Athol. What would be would be, and the only way anyone would know if it was a happy outcome or not, would be to ask Seonagh. Later.

  Much later.

  Claudio stood politely by his chair as Seonagh kissed the other two men and ushered them out. What had he gotten himself into?

  She came back inside with a gust of welcome cooler air. The atmosphere in the room was decidedly warm.

  Claudio looked at her as she leaned on the door, her hands behind her back and stared at him.

  "Well?"

  "No, not well. Sir, kitten. It will be in your best interests to remember that."

  She blinked and straightened up, away from the door. "Sir Kitten? New one to me." It was blatantly obvious she was baiting him. Claudio reigned in his temper and smiled. Any sub at Dommissimma would recognize that smile and run for cover. Not his Seonagh. My Seonagh?

  He tapped his hand on the chair arm next to him. Her glance flickered to it, and skittered away. "Let’s get one thing straight, kitten. Yes you, Seonagh, from now on with me, you are my kitten. Do you understand? I can not and will not denigrate what I am, and what I desire. Nor will I allow you to do so. From now on, until you cry enough, i.e. shout red, you will if we are alone address me as Sir. And I will call you kitten. Do you understand?"

  The oil in the Aga burbled, and somewhere nearby he could hear the steady tick of a clock, but that was all. Not even their breathing registered with him.

  I'll count to one hundred, and then accept defeat. He got to twenty-seven.

  "Sir?" Her voice was clear, but he was experienced enough to notice the faint tremors that shook her, and know they were a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.

  He counted to five. "Yes, kitten? Do you think you'd like to come and kneel next to me? If I sit down again?"

  She bit her lip and tilted her head to one side. Her eyes were clear and bright, and shot with sparks of anticipation. "Yes, Sir." She walked slowly, but deliberately toward him and showed no apprehension as she did so. Claudio glanced around and threw a cushion on the floor. "Save the Wilton."

  She sniggered, sank gracefully onto the soft furnishing, and tucked her long legs to one side. Her feet were bare, something Claudio was pleased about, and her nails were painted a sparkly, shocking pink. A silver plaited ring curled around the big toe on her right foot, and she wore a similarly patterned chain on her left ankle.

  The color of the cushion—tomato—clashed beautifully with the shade of her hair. Commonly known as carrot. All in all, Claudio accepted he was enchanted. And rock hard, uncomfortable, and no doubt creating a zipper mark along his cock.

  "So, kitten, shall we play?"

  "Now?" Her voice rose as he took hold of her chin and held it tight enough to pinch, and forced her to look him in the eyes. "Here?"

  "Why not?" He ran the index finger of his spare hand over her lips. "Suck."

  She drew his digit into her mouth and did as he bade. The expression on her face invited praise.

  "Good girl. You want to learn, I want to show you. Regretfully, as much as I'd like to share a little taster, I won't. You need to think hard. Read this list, answer it honestly, and then we'll see if we continue." Claudio pulled a thin wad of papers out of his pocket and passed it to Seonagh. "I've tentatively booked the club for Wednesday next week, but I'll push that date back. We need to meet up before we go there, preferably more than once. Dinner tomorrow?"

  She shook her head and his heart sank. "Thanks but no thanks so soon? A Dear Jonny do you say?" As soon as he spoke, even though it sounded like she was giving him a shove out the door, a memory made him smile. When he was growing up, a Jonny was another name for a condom. Why had he said that?

  "Nothing of the sort," Seonagh said indignantly. "We say a Dear John letter and this isn't one. Late night opening. I won't shut until eight and then I have to tidy up. We're short staffed. My assistant manager's son has chicken pox so we're one down. But I'll rustle up something if you want. At home not here."

  The unexpected lump he'd got in his throat lessened. "I'll bring something. Any preferences?"

  "Lovely, that would mean no cooking for me. Er, not tripe please. I live in Treedwell. Mill Cottage." She named a village a few miles nearer his home.

  He nodded, stood and pulled her toward him. "Around nine?"

  "Great." She stood on tiptoe, licked her lips in a gesture of nervousness he was beginning to recognize and kissed his cheek.

  It enchanted him, and made him ache. There and then he decided to cancel the visit to Dommissimma indefinitely. He wanted his kitten to himself for a
while first.

  After a smile that would melt the strongest misogynist's heart she spoke again.

  "Thank you, Sir."

  I'm a goner.

  Chapter Five

  Twenty-four hours. God knows how many minutes—Seonagh couldn't begin to do the maths—to sit and worry about the bloody list of what would she, wouldn't she, or might she, accept. In fact she didn't have time to sit, full stop, but she still found the odd minute or three to think about it and fret.

  When she'd opened her café and bookshop she knew it would be hard work. Not least, she'd reasoned, to get it running and to persuade people to come in.

  That had been the least of her worries. The biggest had been to recruit staff to keep on top of everything. Books and Browse, it seemed, had filled a niche, and she had not only a loyal customer base but also a steady stream of tourists, especially though the summer.

  Which was all well and good, but not when she had to decide on such knotty questions as—is a Wartenberg Wheel red, yellow or green and if so where can it be used?

  By the time she'd flipped the open sign to closed and finished clearing up, all she wanted was a bath, a good book and a glass of wine. Preferably sipping the wine and reading the book in the bath.

  However, she acknowledged, as she drove the few miles to her cottage, she might need to save the reading for later, change the bath for a shower and, as Claudio was driving, forget the wine and make coffee instead.

  Damn him. Why did I agree to this? In my home as well. I must be crazy. At least he insisted he provided the food. However, much she'd felt it was necessary to assert some independence—her house, but it seemed not her food for this first meeting—maybe this wasn't the evening to do it. It was a pity, however that Seonagh was tired, irritable, and in no mood to be subservient. It didn't bode well for the evening ahead. Luckily, as usual, the drive along the side of a loch with the mountains as a backdrop restored her good humor. By the time she reached her driveway she was humming along to the song on the radio.

  Seonagh turned her car into the entrance to her property and slammed on the brakes. It wouldn't do to back end a Porsche—even if it was blocking her driveway.

  "Of all the fucking moronic asshats," she muttered to herself as she snagged her bag off the passenger seat, switched off the engine and got out. "What's with the abandon the car act?" She straightened up, turned around and rocked on her feet as her boobs bumped into something hard. A male something hard.

  Seonagh looked up into Claudio's dark eyes and saturnine face.

  "Good evening, kitten. The abandon the car act is because there seems to be a load of logs across your turning circle."

  Oh fuck. "Bollocks. I only ordered them this morning. I didn't expect them yet. I'd've left the log shed open if I knew. Oh and hi, come on in. Hope there's something good for supper. I'm starving. A slice of toast at ten a.m. is but a fond memory" She opened the front door, and waited for him to follow her. He hadn't moved. "What?"

  "Hi, Sir?" His lips quirked and she flushed.

  "Yeah, Sir, sorry, bad day."

  He nodded. "We all have them. Forget it, but remember eh? Here, take this." Claudio held out his jacket. "And don't let me hear you say you haven't eaten properly, ever again, kitten. You must have regular meals." Under the expensive jacket he wore a midnight blue shirt that showed off his torso to perfection, tucked into the inevitable denim jeans. This pair was one shade darker than his shirt, if it was possible, and outlined his cock, which Seonagh was convinced, grew as she looked at it—him she amended. There was no way she was going to admit to ogling his dick like a teenager. Mind you it looks to be a bloody fine specimen.

  "Oh right." She realized Claudio still waited for her to take his jacket. "Er, Why?"

  "Because if you open the woodshed, perhaps I can shift some of these logs whilst you prepare our dinner?" He began to unbutton his shirt. Seonagh couldn't take her eyes off his fingers as they moved down his body and revealed a tanned chest sprinkled with black hair. "Large basket on the back seat. It only needs reheating."

  Should I suggest he might get his jeans dirty as well?

  "You doll. Can I kiss you?' She wrenched her gaze away from the 'v' of hair that arrowed under his waistband and looked at his face instead. From his expression he knew fine what she'd been thinking. "That is the best idea I've heard since, well, since the decree that coffee within ten minutes of getting up was mandatory."

  "You can show your gratitude later, kitten."

  His eyes flashed and she drew in her breath. So sex on legs hot.

  "I can? How?" she asked suspiciously. Somehow, she mistrusted the devilish smile that played around his lips.

  "Tut-tut, kitten, is that any question to ask your Dom?" Claudio waggled his finger. "That's for me to say, and you to agree to or not. Now, woodshed?"

  "Oh yeah." Her tummy did a funny little gurgle and her nipples peaked hard against her silk top. Claudio glanced at them and smirked

  Smirked, dammit.

  "Think about just what I might demand for my reward, kitten. How long have I got?"

  She stared at him. Got for what? At the rate her pussy muscles were doing their press ups, about three seconds before she jumped him. Then she realized what he meant. "Oh say half an hour?" If, as he said it would only take ten minutes to warm through the meal, she could delay it, get her logs moved and have a chance to admire his everything she was all for it. Her rumbling tummy could wait.

  Claudio narrowed his eyes and nodded. "I hope you don't over cook it, kitten."

  Bugger. Outed.

  ****

  That evening set the tone for the next week or so. Ten days later, all the logs were stacked neatly undercover, and he'd even made a start on chopping kindling.

  "I'll expect to sit in front of a roaring fire in the cold weather," Claudio informed her when she protested he was doing too much. "And of course with a nice warm room, you can be naked."

  She had no answer to that except redden and clench her thighs to stem the gush of arousal that flooded from her.

  He laughed and flicked her nose with his pinkie.

  At no time did he make a move on her, except for a kiss as he left, nor asked to see the questionnaire he'd given her, let alone demand his reward, whatever it was. She'd never spent so much time with a guy without him trying it on. It was unnerving. Only the fire in his eyes when he looked at her reassured her he did in fact want her. It also stopped her fucking up and jumping him.

  Seonagh was twitchy, horny, and needed a new battery for Archie. He of course, had whined, slowed and given up the ghost at some stupid time in the early hours of the morning, mid play. Frustrated, and wet, Seonagh had resorted to the tried and tested formula of fingers and thumbs, coupled with a deep dominating voice in her head telling her what to do. In a sexy Greco-Italian accent.

  It kept her sane. Almost. Until, on a Sunday night, over a week later, a week of chats, walks and a visit to the cinema, to see a retro showing of Secretary, they sat in her garden enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. It was her day off and they'd eaten a long leisurely lunch at the old oak table Seonagh had sited under the apple trees. Then followed it up by a walk in the forest, to wear off the lethargy the meal and sunshine created.

  Claudio looked over at her from his deckchair under the trees.

  "Kitten?"

  He'd used the pet name to address her, on and off, each time they met, but never in such a commanding tone. Her cunt responded to it like a flower to the sun, her senses unfurled, and her clit perked up.

  Damn, I must stop giving my lady bits a mind of their own. She looked at him in query. "Sir?" That title slipped easily out of her mind and into her voice.

  "Did you look at the questionnaire I gave you?"

  She nodded and then remembered one of the helpful hints on the Q and A sheet at the end of his list. Always vocalize. "Yes, Sir."

  "Good." He smiled, stood up and stretched his arms high over his head. "Ah that's better. I must sta
rt running again. Time has got away from me."

  "You need to run after it?"

  "Clever," he said admiringly. "But no. However, I feel perhaps I need to run after you?"

  "Me?" Seonagh was genuinely surprised and knew her voice showed it. "Why?"

  Claudio held out his hand to her. She took it and let him haul her to her feet. He didn't draw her closer but neither did he let go of her hand. His palm was warm in hers, and he used his thumb to trace slow erotic circles over the skin between her thumb and forefinger. They tickled, tingled, and made her pulse jump.

  "You are adept at keeping me busy so I have had no time to question you until now. I allowed that perhaps you needed those days to, to assimilate what I want. Now I need to know the results of your deliberations."

  He sounded oh so proper. Seonagh clicked her tongue quietly. Give in or give up time.

  "I've filled it in, Sir. One moment.” She wiped her clammy hands on her skirt as she went inside to get the information she'd submitted. Oh, for a large glass of wine. However as Claudio—rightly—wouldn't drink and drive the best she could do was sniff the elderflower cordial.

  Three minutes later she went back outside with the papers in her hands and passed it to him. He nodded and pointed to the cushion on the grass. "How long until we get bitten in all the wrong ways?"

  Seonagh bent her legs and sat on the cushion. She'd suspected he might want to set the scene, so to speak, and she was happy with that. Whether he'd be happy with her answers to his questions was another matter entirely.

  "Midges?" She checked her watch and squinted toward the sun. "A couple of hours. The little buggers won't get annoying until the sun goes down behind those trees at the end of the garden. Oh and I feel buggers is a perfectly acceptable description there, Sir, not an epithet."

  Claudio laughed, as she hoped he would. "I'll give you that, kitten. They are indeed little buggers. Not that I'm bothered by them, but I bet you are."

  "Yeah," Seonagh said, morosely. "They see me from five miles away, rub their wings together and shout ‘oy there's dinner.’ Even that famous skin moisturizer beloved by forestry workers and the armed forces alike only staves them off for a while. And increases their annoyance when they permeate its shield. I've accepted I'm a watch the outside from inside during summer evenings kind of person."