Page 67 of Donovan Blake: Adrenalin

“Honestly, I wouldn’t go back to that life for all the money in the world,” she replied, and as hers tears finally escaped, she thought, I had more than I ever dreamed of, and it was cold and heartless and meant nothing.

“Come on, let’s get you home. Your mom and dad and little sister are on pins and needles waiting for you, and so is Rusty. He knows something’s up. That dog was miserable after you left. He’ll go nuts when he sees you.”

** * **

Donovan and Phoebe had spent most of the morning with Sam learning about a series of art thefts in the U.K. The latest was a priceless painting stolen from a centuries old, stately country home. But it was the fourth such heist in as many months, and Sam told them they’d be leaving for London in a couple of days. Their assignment was to uncover the methodology of the crimes and expose the culprits.

On the long drive back to the hunting lodge Phoebe noticed Donovan was quiet. But she was also deep in thought. Her life had radically changed…was still changing…and many unanswered questions swirled around her head. But as they rolled into the garage and he glanced across at her with his sexy grin, all she wanted was to be at his mercy.

“Go down to the dungeon and take off all your clothes,” he ordered as if reading her mind, “then stand next to the spanking bench, put on a blindfold and wait for me.”

“Uh…yes, Sir,” she managed breathlessly.

“I’m pleased you remembered how to respond. Now go.”

Climbing out and hurrying into the house she tried to calm her nerves, but it was impossible.

* * *

A short time later, wearing only a robe and walking down the stairs into his hedonistic haven, Donovan saw Phoebe waiting just as he’d instructed. Being with her fulfilled him in a way he never thought possible, and though he’d always been a loner, working with her had been a blast. He admired her strong will and independent spirit. But she was also impulsive and that had to change.

“I’m going to position you,” he said as he approached. “We need to have a discussion.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’ll talk and you’ll listen. The only time you may speak is to answer a question. If you say anything out of turn you’ll be punished. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Your safe word is Empress. Repeat it.”

“My safe word is Empress. Thank you, Sir.”

Bending her over the padded seat, he secured her wrists to the front bar, then spread her knees wide apart and strapped them down. But as he moved to one of the cabinets, he paused to look back at her.

She was a vision.

His cock stiffened.

Idly stroking himself, he searched out a small, hard paddle and a vibrator, then quickly returned to her side. As he turned it on and pressed it against her clit, she let out a long, low moan, but when he began landing his flattened palm from cheek to cheek she gasped and yelped.

“You know what I do isn’t a game,” he said sternly, increasing the force of his slaps. “Now we’ll be working together you need to understand a few things. The actions I take aren’t arbitrary. Some may seem spontaneous, but in tough situations my mind works with lightning speed. Nothing I do is impulsive! But you, Phoebe, sometimes act without thinking. That has to stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I realize there will be times when you’ll have to make a quick decision,” he declared, moving the vibrator off her pussy. “I may not be around, but if at all possible take a second. Is the risk worth the payoff? What’s the worst case scenario if something goes wrong? Train yourself to see beyond the obvious. It will soon become second nature.”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied breathlessly.

“But don’t be impulsive!” he warned, picking up the paddle and delivering quick hard swats. “Say it.”

“I won’t be impulsive, Sir,” she squealed. “I won’t, I won’t.”

As he smoothed his hand over her reddened skin, she whimpered, then let out a heavy sigh.

“Next, when we’re on a case you’ll meet people, and some will accidentally run into you on purpose. They’ll befriend and charm you, but it will be an act to draw you in and win your trust. Bottom line…” he said sternly, delivering several more hard swats, “don’t trust anyone. That may sound harsh, but it could save both our lives. Say it.”

“I mustn’t trust anyone, Sir,” she bleated. “I’ll remember.”

---