The Billionaire's Ink Mistress: Billionaires in Bondage, Book 2 Page 8

When she pulled back, he stared at her, breathing hard and fighting himself. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet. He had the ridiculous fear he’d never come back to St. Paul—though Donovan’s business alone would call him through town at least once a month or so.

  But there’s no guarantee I’ll see Diana again. Would she even want to see me again?

  She rubbed her thumb across his bottom lip. “So fucking beautiful. I’m sorry we met under such difficult circumstances, but I can’t say that I’m sorry you finally crashed and burned, Angel.”

  Her other hand squeezed his bruised ass hard enough a groan escaped.

  “Call me sometime.” Laughing softly, she took a business card out of her jeans pocket and slipped it into his, making sure she dug around in his pants so her fingers brushed his hardening cock. “Have a safe trip home.”

  His phone buzzed and he didn’t have to read the text to know that Ann was warning him he’d miss his flight. I don’t fucking care.

  “Put out all those fires they depend on you to handle. They need you.”

  But his feet were rooted to the floor. All he wanted…

  “Go, Jackson.”

  Her voice echoed with command, shaking him out of his frozen hesitation. He bowed his head slightly and turned to find his briefcase. It took all his strength to heft it, as if the papers and files had been replaced by boulders.

  Suit, briefcase, constantly buzzing phone. Angel was gone and Jackson Montgomery Warring was back.

  No matter how much he hated himself.

  Chapter Eleven

  Call me sometime.

  What did that mean, exactly? Jackson stared unseeing out of the plate glass window, waiting on the next client to show up. Did Diana really want him to call again, or was he just a one-night stand? Was she just being nice?

  It wasn’t an order. If she’d said, “Call me as soon as you get home,” he would have known what she expected. But this open-ended bullshit…

  “Mr. Warring!”

  He jerked his head around. Ann stood beside him, her hand raised as if she was going to touch him. “Yes?”

  “I called you several times.” She kept her tone light but her eyes chided him, searching his face for clues to his daydreaming. She inclined her head toward the older gentleman waiting at the door. “Mr. Chen is ready to see you now.”

  “Of course, thank you, Ms. Quinton. Mr. Chen, thank you for coming in to the office today.”

  He went through the motions but his mind was still in Minnesota. He cleared all of his meetings. He made an emergency trip to court for another partner, both for the firm’s good reputation and to curry the extremely ill attorney’s favor for Ellen’s bid for managing partner. She needed all the votes she could get to fight the prevalent old-school mentality rampant in such a well-established and long-running prestigious firm. She had to do the work of a dozen male partners to gain any respect as a female, even after working at the firm for thirty-plus years.

  Back in his office, he contemplated the stack of fresh files waiting in the center of his desk and groaned out loud. He had to check his phone to even know what day it was. Monday, four o’clock in the afternoon. So he’d been on his feet going since he’d left St. Paul bright and early yesterday morning. No wonder he felt like shit.

  His first instinct was to open up the emergency stash he kept in the bottom drawer beneath his college memorabilia. He was supposed to meet Ellen and the most senior partner’s family for dinner tonight. The eldest Larsen wasn’t so bad. Eighty years old and sharp as a tack, old man Sinclair had been with the firm his entire life, just like his father before him. His son, Geoffrey, was an egotistical bastard, still the entitled rich-kid at nearly sixty, and easily Ellen’s biggest opponent.

  Jackson rubbed his eyes and stole a longing glance at his extremely comfortable leather couch. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said he slept more there than his bed at home. He could really use a few hours of sleep, but as exhausted as he was now, he’d be at risk for missing the dinner entirely. Which would be catastrophic.

  Ann tapped on the frosted glass wall, even though he’d left the door open. “You look like death warmed over.”

  He mustered a smile that he hoped wasn’t as weary as he felt. “I feel like it too. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to remind you that I need to leave early today.”

  He blinked, trying to remember whether they’d discussed this or not. Ann was his right hand. If he even hoped to catch a little sleep, he needed her here to make sure he got up on time and headed to the dinner meeting. He depended on her for practically everything, especially where he had to be and when.

  It suddenly dawned on him that his crazy schedule meant her schedule was probably just as crazy, if not worse. If he was working into the night, usually she was too. He wasn’t just ruining his own life. I needed chemical help to keep up the pace. How’d Ann keep up with me?

  Horrified, he searched her face for clues.

  “Don’t worry,” she replied tartly. “I knew you’d forget. And no, I’m not going to interview elsewhere, if that’s why you look like you swallowed a toad. I have an appointment that I can’t miss.”

  “What kind of appointment?”

  “Doctor’s appointment.” She turned for the door, her tone brisk. “A fresh suit is ready in the closet and the car will be here promptly at eight o’clock. Your schedule for tomorrow is printed out on top of those files, which you’ll want to review first. I’ll see you in the morning at seven.”

  “Ann.”

  She didn’t turn around. “Don’t ask me any questions. Not yet. When I’m ready, I’ll tell you.”

  “Okay,” he stood up and lightly touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m just starting to realize how insane my life has been lately, and that my insanity has affected your life too. I have no excuse, other than I was lost in my own darkness. Whatever it is, I’m right here with you and I’m going to do better. For you, and for me.”

  She sniffed but her shoulders straightened. “It’s about damned time. When do I get to meet her?”

  He didn’t know what to say. Diana might as well be on the other side of the globe. She sure hadn’t indicated any desire to visit him in Chicago, nor that he’d be welcome again in St. Paul. “Honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing. I wish you could manage my personal life for me as well as you do this life.”

  “I already do,” she replied as she opened the door. “Give me a few hours tomorrow and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to track your mystery lady down and help you lasso her.”

  Or maybe she should just lasso me and deliver me hogtied for sacrifice by the Priestess.

  The door started to swing shut but he caught it and called out after Ann. “If a woman says ‘call me sometime’, what does that mean exactly?”

  Ann turned around, planted her hands on her hips and gave him a glare worthy of old Judge Hawkins who could whip even the most seasoned attorney into a sobbing frenzy. “You pick up the phone and call her.”

  “But when? I don’t want to call too soon…”

  Ann rolled her eyes and turned away to march down the hall. “Call her, morning, noon, midnight, it doesn’t matter. Call her right now.”

  Diana was too old to sit around and moon over a man, let alone stew about whether or not he would call. Jackson was the kind of man who’d put way too much thought into the timing and meaning of his call. He would have been trying to decide how quickly to call, what that would mean. He wouldn’t want to be too eager or desperate or afraid, nor too aloof and wait too long. As a man all in his head, he’d definitely overthink it. She’d been trying to keep things loose, not too heavy, by leaving their possible relationship open-ended, but after he’d clearly been home for over twenty-four hours and still hadn’t called, she’d started to second-guess her decision.

  Until her phone finally rang.

>   She didn’t know the number but her instinct told her it was him. She sucked in a deep breath, held it for several seconds, and then let it out slowly, releasing all the tension that had built up in her body despite her attempt to remain relaxed and unaffected.

  “Dreaming in Ink, this is Diana.”

  “Hi, Diana. It’s Jackson. I…” He blew out a sigh and she could hear the weariness in his voice. “Is this a good time?”

  “Sure.” She couldn’t help but sharpen her voice, her protective instincts rising up. He wasn’t her sub, not exactly, but she couldn’t stand to let him neglect self-care. Not after what he’d given her. “You sound tired.”

  “Yeah. It’s been crazy here. I knew it would be.”

  She softened her voice to take the edge out. “Have you slept at all since you got back?”

  He was silent several moments, telling her without words. “How’s everything in St. Paul?”

  “Don’t change the subject on me.” She said it softly, but her fingers tightened on the phone and she scowled fiercely, even though he couldn’t see her face.

  “No.”

  She lowered her voice and allowed a thread of menace to enter. “Are you using again? Already?”

  “No ma’am.” He laughed but it was a sad, desperate sound. “Every time I sit down, I remember. You think I’d fall back so quickly?”

  “Did you see anyone yet?”

  “Yes. I squeezed in an appointment first thing this morning.”

  At least he’d followed through with that promise. But the lack of sleep worried her. “You can’t go on like this.”

  “I know. I do, honestly. I’m just not sure how to get through right now until I can correct the situation.”

  “Go home right now and rest.”

  “With all due respect, I can’t. I have an important dinner meeting tonight that will run late, and I’m usually back in the office by six most mornings.”

  Diana locked the front door of the shop and turned off the lights. She’d finish closing down everything later, but at least no customers would wander in after hours. She climbed the stairs to the upper apartment, trying to think of a way to help him. “Can you lie down and rest for a while now? There in your office?”

  “I could, but there’s no one here to make sure I get up on time. My secretary had to leave early today and I don’t trust anyone else.”

  She pulled a frosty hard cider out of the fridge and plopped down on the couch. “I’ll call you. I’ll make sure you get up. Just tell me the time.”

  He was silent for so long, she whispered, “Jackson?”

  “Yeah. Just thinking.”

  “I’m sitting on my couch in my apartment with a cider. Why don’t you sit down on that wonderfully comfortable couch you were telling me about? But first, you might want to lock your door if you’re worried about anyone coming in and bothering you.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “Do you want it to be?” She held her breath, waiting to see how he’d respond.

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled and settled back against the cushions. “Lock your door, Angel. This is going to be fun.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The lock slid into place with a loud snick, and immediately his heart rate increased. “Okay.”

  “Good. Turn off your lights so no one tries to disturb you. I bet you’re still all duded up in one of those fancy suits, aren’t you? So take off your jacket and loosen your tie. Kick off your shoes. Get comfortable.”

  “I wish I could see you.”

  He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Weak, stupid, vulnerable, needy. That wasn’t the kind of man he wanted to be. But Diana didn’t seem to mind.

  “There are ways, Angel.” She chuckled. “You could land planes with that expensive phone, so I’m sure you have a Skype app on there. Another time, maybe I’ll fire up my computer and call you. I’ll get all dressed up for you in something sinful. What would you like?”

  “Honestly? Nothing at all.” There were so many things he wanted to say, but he clamped his mouth shut, afraid to go too far. One night didn’t mean she was ready to hear him spout romantic crap that couldn’t possibly happen with his current situation. Maybe there’d never be a chance. He couldn’t see ever having the kind of life a woman like her deserved while he was still chained to the firm. Too heavy, too depressing, even for him. So he made his voice as light as possible. “I want to explore all those gorgeous tattoos.”

  “Oh yeah, baby, nothing but skin. Sounds good. Are you comfortable?”

  He stretched out on the couch and let out a sigh. “Yeah.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t think I can sleep.”

  “Why?”

  He blew out a sigh and rubbed a palm over his face. “It’s going to sound stupid, but I’m afraid I’ll oversleep. Even if I set an alarm, I’m afraid I’ll set it incorrectly, or it won’t go off, or I won’t hear it. I’m OCD about it and will wake up every five minutes to check and make sure it’s not time to get up yet. Then when it is time, I’m more exhausted than ever.”

  “I did that once in high school. I forgot to set my alarm and missed the bus to the regional art contest. My piece won first place but I wasn’t there to accept it.”

  He closed his eyes but his muscles remained tensed against the leather. “Power went out and my alarm didn’t go off. Missed flying with Dad to see my first World Series game as a result.”

  “Ouch.”

  “He could have gotten me up in time, but deliberately chose not to and went to the game without me. He wanted to teach me a lesson in responsibility. I certainly never forgot it.”

  “My childhood sucked, and I think Mama did a pretty good job with what we had. The idea of screwing up my kids and making them as miserable as I was made me decide a long time ago that I didn’t want kids of my own.”

  He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the Priestess changing diapers. It made him laugh. About as likely as me changing a diaper. “Me too. I’ve never wanted kids of my own. That life’s not for me.”

  “So that doesn’t bother you? Most men start yammering about the family name, and with your big important-sounding name, I figured that’d be a priority for you.”

  “Not at all. In fact, I’d rather not give Dad the pleasure of bragging about his name continuing through me.”

  “I figured you had mommy issues, working with your mom at the firm and all. Guess I was wrong.”

  “I always knew where I stood with Ellen. Her career was important and she was gone a lot. Early on, she depended on Dad to take me to the games and make sure I got off to school and did my homework, but when she realized how miserable I was, she made changes to fix the problem, not the least of which was divorcing Dad. I know she loves me. That was never an issue for me.”

  “Another time, I want to hear more about your dad. How do you feel now? Any more relaxed than before?”

  Surprisingly, he did feel more relaxed despite touching on some of his painful childhood memories. His eyes were heavy and his muscles looser than before. He could almost sleep. If only Ann hadn’t needed to leave… “Yeah, better.”

  “Good. Now open your pants.”

  She heard his sharp inhale and smiled. “You didn’t think I was going to let you off easy, did you? I want some reward for settling you down for a nap. Plus it’ll help you relax.”

  “So this is my punishment for calling you?”

  The sound of the zipper gliding down made her voice go sultry. “If that makes you feel better, sure. But I honestly didn’t know if you’d call me, ever. So this was a pleasant surprise. Are you hard yet, Angel?”

  He let out a rough laugh. “I’ve been hard since I heard your voice.”

  “That’s what a Mistress likes to hear. Start str
oking that gorgeous cock, but you’re not allowed to come until I tell you.”

  She waited, trusting that he was following her instructions. She pictured him in his expensive suit, trousers open, cock rising hard and desperate, his beautiful face tight with concentration. Lying back on her bed, she stroked her fingers around her left areola, enjoying the tight feel of her hardening nipple. His breathing quickened to a pant and a soft groan echoed through the phone, making her pussy tighten with longing.

  “It feels so good, doesn’t it, Angel? Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to lock your door. It might be fun to see what one of your coworkers would think if they walked in on you like this.”

  He sucked in a deep, ragged breath but didn’t say anything in protest. Interesting. Maybe he’d like to be the star of the show, rather than just watch from the sidelines. She’d keep that in mind if they ever got to play again in person.

  “Why’d you call me, Angel? Why now rather than when you landed in Chicago? Or this morning?”

  “Temptation,” he growled out. “I didn’t want to break my promise to you.”

  “It’s more than that, Angel. You needed me to remind you that you have a body. It feels good, it needs care and comfort. Like sex. Food. Rest. Have you eaten today?”

  “No.”

  “So first we’re going to make your body feel real good. Then you’re going to rest a few hours. Then eat. Got it?”

  “Yes. Priestess.”

  “Good boy, Angel. Would it help or make it worse to know that I’m playing with my nipple while I listen to you get off?”

  He groaned roughly. “Both.”

  “So I probably shouldn’t check to see how wet I am.”

  “Please do. I want to know.”

  “All right,” she purred out, making sure he heard her own zipper and the rustle of her jeans. When she slid her fingers down into her panties, she deliberately moaned into the phone. “Oh, yeah, baby, I’m so wet. I could give you a feast right now.”

  She heard him lick his lips and it made her arch her back on another moan.

  “Can you come with me, Priestess? Is that allowed?”