Page 115 of Cross To Bear

Annie’s eyes went so wide I could see a perfect circle of white around her pupils.

“Come, come, tell Aunty Mal everything…”

Which was how the two of us ended up sitting in my office, coffees in hand as I caught her up on everything she’d missed. Thankfully, this was delivered in little more than a hoarse whisper, because my manager appeared at my door, knocking belatedly.

“You’re back on deck, Maddie? Good to see…” I watched her eyes drop down to take in the cling wrap and the tattoo beneath it. “Oh!” She blinked, and then plastered on her best professional smile. “Looks like you’ve had a little makeover while on leave. Well… good for you. Now, can I get you to join us in this meeting this morning?”

“Act your wage. They pay you, don’t own you…” Mal hissed at me as she swanned out the door, leaving me to meeting hell.

Welcome back to work, Maddie.

My doctor had approved me to go back to work on light duties, but I jumped right into my client’s requests as soon as I was back at my computer. While other accountants had been assigned my work while I was on leave, they were only too glad to handball it back to me now that I was back. I worked solidly, ticking off jobs until Mal appeared at my door.

“Bzzt… You are done for the day. Shut down your computer. Walk away from your desk. No, don’t take it with you.” She tried to slap the device out of my hands, right as I shoved it into my briefcase. “Girl, if I had four studly bikers to go home to, you wouldn’t see me looking at a family trust or GST payment after hours.”

“I’m not sure how much work I will get done.” I frowned. “I’m supposed to be meeting Razor for lunch.”

“Where he eats your kitty like a good boy? Please say yes, even if it’s not true. Let me live out my fantasies through you.”

“I think he’s going to teach me how to top Crash.”

“Angel face is a fucking sub?” Her voice got so high only dogs could hear it, which probably worked in my favour.

“Shut. The Fuck. Up,” I hissed. “And not a sub, a switch.”

“Oh my god, I would never have picked that.” Her long acrylic nails rattled as she clicked them against the necklace she was wearing. “But damn, that has some possibilities.” Her eyes danced as they met mine. “So you’re going to be his domme?”

“I have no fucking idea,” I said, hoisting the bag on my shoulder. “And you seem curiously informed about this topic.”

“People always assume accountants are as boring as shit, but many of us are kink aware. You’d never guess what Sharon up on floor three likes to do on her weekend.”

I slapped a hand over her mouth to stop the flood of gossip from coming out.

“I think I’ll chat to Razor about this. Who knows him better than his own sleuthmate?”

I was about to find out.

My car came to a stop in the garage carpark and the apprentices and hangarounds all took a look to see who’d arrived. That curiosity died a quick death when they worked out who it was, so I clicked my way past cars and bikes in various states of repair unmolested until a sharp wolf whistle pierced the air.

Crash stood there looking like some kind of Herb Ritts pin up, his overalls unbuttoned to the waist and smeared with grease as he grinned at me.

“Hey, baby. Come to bring me lunch?”

“She’s with me.”

Everyone turned around to see Razor standing there, arms crossed, looking pretty clean for this late in the day. Those blue eyes of his took everything in, including my briefcase, before he smirked and turned around, indicating I was to follow.

“Ohhkay…” I muttered to myself, walking through the garage to find Razor sitting in his office, boots propped up on a curiously clear desk. Usually, it was a nightmare of paperwork, something that had Mal gnashing her teeth when they handed it to her to deal with.

“Take a seat.” My hand went to grab the office chair on the other side of the desk. “Not there. Here.”

I let out a huff of breath as he patted his lap, his smile widening as he watched me hesitate, then close the door, before marching over to his side. But I eased my butt onto his lap, didn’t I? Trying to go slowly, but he yanked me down until I was right where I was supposed to be. His hand slid up and down my spine in soothing sweeps, right before he said the words.

“That’s a good girl.”

It’d become such a cliche, using those two words in bed, but that knowledge didn’t do much to dispel some heavy childhood conditioning. I’m sure my parents would’ve been horrified to know their exacting standards and sparing use of compliments had created a praise kink in me, but here we were.

“Now, tell me why you did exactly as I said.”

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