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Read on for a special preview of the next Naughty Bits novella
BOUND TO PLEASE
Available June 2014 from InterMix
Returning to her cash register, Madison caught her reflection in one of the mirror panels. Helen's observation had surprised her, but she did look pretty at home in the librarian role-playing persona she'd chosen for today. Not too bad a transformation, given her grand opening had been several weeks ago. It had gone well, and she'd had the opportunity to draw back more of the loyal customer base Alice had harvested. Many may have attended the grand opening out of sentiment, but that wasn't what had them coming back now.
Good news overall, but the opening had been a little tough emotionally. The attendees volunteered their stories of how Alice had guided them in their sexual adventures and deepened their emotional bonds with their partners. They laughed over her sister's quirky and wise insights, her friendship and generosity. What a pleasure it had been, just being around her. Madison had laughed with them, listened, been hugged by an inordinate number of total strangers. She was told over and over the resemblance between them, was given countless wishes for success and offers to spread the word that her door was open again.
Alice hadn't wanted a funeral. She'd told Madison to host a celebration of life whenever felt like a good time. Inadvertently, the grand opening had become that service. She'd placed a picture of Alice on the counter. During the event, she saw plenty of people go by, touch her sister's face.
After it was all over, she'd locked the door, collected her things, but she h
adn't made it to her car. Instead, she'd sat down on the storeroom floor and cried. Logan and Troy had stopped by earlier, but they had the hardware store to run. She wasn't expecting any company, but of course, with that incredible intuition they had on this stuff, they appeared about the time she realized she literally couldn't stop crying. Maybe Troy had come into the back to retrieve something and heard her, no matter that she was trying to keep it quiet.
The next thing she knew, Troy was sliding down the wall next to her, folding her in his arms. She clung to him, sobbing hard, and when Logan joined them on the other side, she turned toward his chest, pressing her face there, feeling like she might be ripped in two if he wasn't there to hold her. Troy stayed at her back, rubbing it until she could breathe again. They wiped her eyes, didn't ask her to talk. Logan took her home, tucked her into her bed with a cup of tea, and stayed with her until morning, leaving her with a vague awareness of his lips brushing her brow before she was lost again to a dreamless, exhausted slumber.
It had been really difficult and wonderful. Revisiting her sister's memory with those who loved her, yet still standing apart, alone, because her bond to Alice was singular, a blood connection. Logan and Troy understood that distinction, and she was grateful to them both, even as she continued to be unsettled by how easily she let Logan past any emotional shielding or barrier she had.
Trying to distract herself now, she picked up a wooden paddle and slapped it against her hand, giving herself a suitably disapproving look in the mirror. She was finding she could really get into the different ideas she created with her clients, but when it came to punishment, she was still playing around the edges. Logan had given her a brief taste with that one smack on her ass at her house during movie night, but she didn't have a firsthand understanding of the connection between pleasure and pain.
As soon as she gave the word, that deficit of understanding would be addressed. Every day she came closer to telling Logan yes, she wanted another session. She knew she was getting closer to that acquiescence because that constant coil of anxiety in her lower belly about it was becoming ever more intense. Anticipation and anxiety mixed together, like most things that involved Logan.
Despite all her attempts to stay rational, detached, she was all too aware Logan hadn't mentioned going to his club since that night at her house. He also found a reason to check in on her every day. No, that described her, not him. She never went next door without a justifiable, somewhat business-related reason to explain her visit. Whereas he didn't present a reason at all when he came over to her store, beyond simply wanting to see her. This morning he'd brought her a cup of his coffee, asking her how she'd slept last night, engaging in warm chitchat. Then he'd slid behind her counter, gathered her up to him and put his mouth on hers, leaving her with a kiss that was like a straight shot of caffeine, waking her up head to toe.
He was treating her like a love interest. A lover. He wanted to be around her, wanted to see her. It was always nice to be wanted--for however long it lasted.
Did she always have to add those depressing caveats? This time the disapproving face she made really was at herself, not an imaginary late book offender. She wanted to see him right now, for no other reason than that. It had been too long since that morning kiss.
She waffled over it. She should be as brave and open about it as he was, but she simply wasn't there. She had to protect herself, no matter how flimsy the shield. Picking up a stack of the new coupons she'd printed up last night on colored paper, as well as the small shopping bag she'd packed up a little while ago with treats for the two men, she turned over the "back in ten minutes" sign on the front door and locked it. She was proud that she moved with a brisk, casual stride toward the front of his store, rather than skipping like an infatuated schoolgirl.
Logan was discussing a floor nailer with a customer, the two of them analyzing the different possibilities. She leaned against his counter, watching him and listening to the rise and fall of his voice. If she wasn't careful, she'd just close her eyes and ride that timbre like a boat on a smooth current. To avoid embarrassing herself that way, she focused on what they were discussing. His sales approach wasn't much different from her own. His primary concern was ensuring the customer got the right tool for the job, even if it was only available at Home Depot.
Remarkably, she'd found such an approach still fulfilled her bottom line. From the account history, it was clear Alice had succeeded more because of repeat business and referrals than impulse buys.
Troy emerged from the center aisle. He'd been unloading a truck, because he was sweaty, his shirt clinging to his upper body. He gave her a smile when he saw her, wiping his neck and face with a bandanna as he approached. "Hey, Madison. Wow. I like the outfit. Librarian?"
She peered over her glasses at him and gave him a stern look. "That's Miss Fine to you. Didn't I tell you what would happen if you brought your books back late again, Troy?"
In his flash of surprise at her teasing, she caught an unguarded reaction, a short but very sweet taste of what it must be like to be his Mistress, to have those blue eyes look at her with aroused yearning, an eager desire to please her with every inch of his muscular young body. It made for a nice, quick mental fantasy.
He recovered in a blink, gave her his slow smile. She was amused when he changed the subject. "We're having a sale on all our lawn art today. Can I interest you in a concrete frog? You'll be saving a life, because Logan swears he's going to take them all out for target practice if he doesn't get them out from underfoot."
He ducked into the appropriate aisle and retrieved one. The impossibly cute small concrete frog fit into the palm of his hand. She decided it would look lovely sitting on her counter, right next to the basket of hopping genitalia.
"I'll be happy to take one. How much will it set me back?"
"Three dollars. I'd slip it to you for free, but you know how he is." He winked at her. "Just as cost-conscious as you are."
"That's how it is when you're the one who pays the bills," she said reprovingly. Then she cocked her head. "You're in a good mood, for a man who just unloaded a truck full of heavy things."
"It just means he isn't working hard enough," Logan said, joining them. His thorough perusal made her blush.
"Stop it. You only saw me a couple hours ago."
"Doesn't mean I don't enjoy the hell out of the experience every time." He gave her an unrepentant smile. "Or can only Troy can stammer and blush around you?"
"You haven't stammered or blushed since you were born."
