Page 7 of Dominated (Bedding the Bad Girl 4)

“Security!” she screamed again, using his second’s distraction to stomp a deadly spike heel down in the center of his bare foot.

Before he could say “sucker for a lady in distress,” she twisted free and ran across the room to where her panic button was hidden behind a large, obviously fake potted plant.

Damn it.

He hated fake plants almost as much as he hated this job.

He followed her, trying not to think about the pain radiating up from his wounded foot. He had to get this situation under control while there was still a chance he could reason with Eleanor and enlist her help. At the bare minimum, he had to get her to put a lid on the hysterics before she ruined his chance to catch the sicko who would be arriving soon. “I’m not the bad guy here.”

“Security! I need help!” She paused for a second, listening to static fuzz from the tiny speaker. “Hello? Now would be nice, guys.”

“I promise you. I’m not the man you have to worry about.”

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t believe you. Hello? Kendra? Allison?”

“I sent your staff home and replaced them with my men. There’s no one out there to hear you who will move a muscle unless they get a direct order from me.”

“Who are you?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“I’m a friend of a friend.”

“I don’t have any friends.”

Frank sighed, wishing he had worked harder to convince the queen it was a lousy idea to come here undercover. He was no actor and Eleanor might be wicked, but she wasn’t a fool. She had smelled a rat, and now he would have to work doubly hard to enlist her aid.

It would have been so much simpler if he had been able to approach her as the Captain of the Queen’s Guard in the first place. Surely she would have gone along with her new monarch’s demands.

But the queen was eighteen, an age of willfulness, and had a taste for the dramatic. She had insisted that Frank go in as one of the Wicked Stepmother’s clients, not letting Eleanor know that he was there to catch her stalker until the deed was accomplished. Cynthia had wanted to save her stepmother secretly, only revealing her generosity after the fact.

From what he understood, she planned to surprise Eleanor with a call to the castle to pardon her debt. The queen wanted to put the last two years of bitterness behind them and be a family. She had a soft heart. Foolishly soft, if you asked him. Frank couldn’t imagine making nice with a woman who had put him through the kind of hell Eleanor had put her stepdaughter through.

But then, second chances weren’t his strong point. Never had been, never would be. If you fucked up once with Frank, you didn’t get the chance to fuck up again.

“Hello, earth to psycho! Are you listening to me?” Eleanor squeaked, still looking unbelievably beautiful, though the last of her infamous cool was long gone.

The woman was anything but cool.

She was smoldering, every inch of her body made for the fucking she supposedly didn’t do here in her parlor. She was a Mistress in name only, and made it clear up front that she didn’t offer any sexual favors beyond the adoration of her perfectly shaped feet.

A shame, that.

She was all legs and curves and the face of an angel, with lips that promised the sweetest type of sin. From the second she’d opened her mouth, all Frank could think about was watching those deep ruby lips sliding down over his cock.

He wanted to see her lipstick smeared along his arousal, testimony to how eagerly she had set to sucking him. He would let her set the pace, but in the end his hand would be fisted in her hair, her neck arched backward, taking the full force of his thrusts and loving every minute of it.

She would love every minute, he was certain of it. Even the way she called him a psycho sounded like an invitation to bend her over and fuck her against the nearest piece of furniture, to take control of her sexually and give her the freedom of sensual abandon.

He wanted to give that to her, God help him, no matter what she’d been accused of in the past. She was ripe for the kind of night he hadn’t had in far too long. It would be easy to convince her to step over to the other side of the game. By the time he’d bound her to that four-poster in the corner and used his mouth to show her how generously he rewarded his pussy for her trust, she would never go back.

How he was supposed to keep his mind on the job with that kind of temptation thickening his cock to the point of pain, Frank had no idea.

“Fine,” she snapped, “if you’re just going to stand there, then—”

“Will you listen for a second?” he asked, reaching for her.

She answered him with a vicious kick with one of the lethal weapons she was passing off as shoes.

“These are going to throw off your spinal alignment,” Frank said, catching her slender ankles in his hand, noticing as he did that her feet were indeed lovely. If he were the foot fetish type he would be totally enthralled. “Not to mention give you lower back pain.”

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