Bound by her Boss (A Billionaire Boss Book)

  Copyright © Lilian St.James 2015

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Cover Design and formatting Lilian St.James

  Cover Image by Kassandra for Dollar Photo Club

  Bound by her Boss

  Releasing the past will set her free…

  After Sage Randall’s ex Dom wounded her for his own sadistic satisfaction, she swore she was done with BDSM and all it entailed. She would live a vanilla life with a vanilla boyfriend and have regular old vanilla sex. Or that was the plan until she discovered her to-die-for boss Dillon Ward was a member of Yield, an exclusive kink club.

  Hoping to surprise him, Sage attends an open night at Yield, but when Dillon spots her, she’s the one who’s surprised…and bound.

  Can she release her past and give up control to her sinfully sexy boss?

  Bound by her Boss is a steamy short story that contains adult themes, graphic content and language, and is only suitable for readers over the age of 18.

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  Bound by her Boss

  A Standalone Short Story

  Chapter One

  Perching on a stool by the bar, Sage Randall scanned the dimly lit club in search of Dillon Ward. There was still no sign of her sinfully sexy boss.

  She inhaled deeply. The place smelled like soft leather and dirty sex. It’d been way too long since she’d experienced the jittery anticipation brought on by a visit to a kink club. And it’d been way too long since she’d worn anything other than stuffy suits or cotton PJs. Tonight she’d gone all out. A black velvet corset thrust up her breasts, and every time she moved, the flimsy material of her long sheer skirt swished around her ankles. Her reddish-gold hair, which she usually kept in a severe chignon, hung over one shoulder in a loose ponytail.

  Some of the unattached Doms striding around Yield, one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, gave her a curious glance, but she could tell by the distant look in their eyes they had zero interest. No matter how much she tried to appear submissive, she couldn’t help looking like a dominatrix. Being almost six-foot she resembled a warrior princess. Plus, to keep her weight under control, she worked out regularly. Tall and athletic didn’t quite scream meek and obedient. Apart from her ex master, Roman, Doms didn’t usually go for her type. It didn’t bother her that they weren’t interested, hooking up with a random guy wasn’t on her agenda.

  Having Dillon dominate her was.

  Reading one of his personal letters was enough to get her fired, but when she saw it came from Yield, she had to find out more. The letter invited him to a masquerade ball to celebrate the holidays, something she’d wished she could have attended but no matter how she’d tried, she couldn’t secure an invite.

  After some research, she discovered Yield held an open night for potential members every six months. After three excruciating months of waiting, the night had finally arrived.

  Not every Joe Schmo interested in the lifestyle could become a member—the astronomical fees alone were more than she earned in a year. She’d attended three interviews, had received a thorough medical checkup, and had even undergone several background checks.

  The club she’d been a member of in Georgia hadn’t been anywhere near as methodical. Maybe if they had, they would have spotted the danger signs before Roman left her body a bloody mess. She shuddered, pushing her ex-master to the back of her thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.

  She figured once Liam Windsor, the owner of Yield, had vetted her application and realized there was no way she could afford the fees, he would have said, “thanks but no thanks.”

  He hadn’t. And now here she was in an exclusive member’s only club waiting for her hot as hell boss to show up, praying he wouldn’t fire her ass for reading a letter not meant for her.

  The place seemed fairly normal, quite tame actually. Well, as tame as a kink club could be. A large bar encompassed the back wall and red velour rope cordoned off several play areas around the club. Toys and instruments of torture and pleasure adorned the walls. Faux leather upholstered the booths and seats—easy to clean and hygienic. And buffed hardwoods scarred with scratches covered the floor. Conversation and laughter buzzed around her and clusters of people stood around sipping soft drinks and nibbling expensive canapés.

  Near her, a group of three scantily clad submissives sat around a table giggling, lowering their eyes if their masters caught them doing or saying something inappropriate. God, her heart ached to be part of their clique. It’d been a while since she’d chatted with a group of women who understood her needs. Suppressing the urge to join them, she continued to observe the other members.

  A year had passed since she’d decided to leave the lifestyle behind. She swore she would never go back, but Dillon’s letter had roused a part of her she thought she could ignore. Ever since Roman’s unexpected interest in sadism had damaged her both physically and mentally, she hadn’t had anything to do with BDSM preferring to date more vanilla men. None of those relationships had worked out either. For her, the missionary position was akin to spending the day counting blades of grass on a blustery day. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had an orgasm that wasn’t self-administered. Near the end with Roman, fear had stopped her climaxing, which had incensed him to the point of drawing blood—hers. But despite the hurt he’d caused her, she missed being connected to someone.

  She slid from her bar stool and strode around the club, studying the other attendees. By the nervous body language of the people surrounding her, she figured not many of the regulars were in attendance. They probably didn’t want to deal with newbies and people who’d come to rubberneck. Open nights were the same at her old club.

  A voluptuous brunette with deep blue eyes, sitting at the table of subs, smiled in her direction. “You new?”

  Sage stopped walking and placed a hand on the back of a spare chair wondering if she should sit. “Yes,” she replied, nerves snapped at her skin like a rubber band. “My first night here. I’m a little anxious.”

  “Don’t be. I’m Melody.” She pointed to a woman with pink spiky hair who resembled a pixie. “That’s Dawn, and beside her is Savannah.”

  “Come join us, honey,” Savannah drawled. She was a curvy blonde with a warm smile who, if she stood, would reach no higher than Sage’s waist.

  “We were just admiring your outfit.” Dawn said. “Very I Dream of Jeannie.”

  “Oh, thank you. I’m Sage. I’m waiting for someone and I don’t want to miss him, thanks for the offer though.”

  “Who?” They all chorused.

  “Dillon Ward. Do you know him?”

  “As in Dillon Ward, the sexiest most unattainable master in this club?” Melody asked.

  Savannah’s brown eyes widened. “You tamed Master Dillon?” She patted the seat beside her. “Sit and share your secrets.”

  “I did a scene with him once,” Dawn sighed. “No one’s taken me to those places since. I might hate you.” She gave S
age a wide smile that showed no trace of animosity.

  “The thing is,” Sage said with a nervous laugh. “He’s not expecting me. I’m his assistant. This is kind of a surprise.”

  All three glanced at each other in concern.

  “Oh you poor thing.” Melody reached out, caught Sage’s hand and squeezed. “We’re right here when you need us, sweetie.”

  “Look. Look.” Dawn squeaked, jumping up and down. “He’s here,”

  “Oh, God.” Sage’s heart thudded against her rib cage looking for an escape. “Wish me luck.” She turned around. At the sight of him, all air whooshed out of her lungs and her pulse thundered in her throat.

  As usual, an aura of confidence surrounded him. At six-five, he was her ideal man, even though she wore three-inch heels, he would still tower over her. His brown hair, instead of being styled, was tousled and stubble shadowed his usually shaven jaw.

  In the office he wore tailored suits, but tonight, he wore a tight black tee and black leather pants that hugged every muscle on his perfect body. Seeing him dressed in casual clothes was heavenly.

  When he looked in her direction, she sighed and maybe even whimpered. His eyes flickered over her as if he didn’t recognize her and disappointment punched her gut. But then his green-eyed gaze settled on her and it was as if he read her every thought.

  There were no signs of surprise on his face, and in an act of submissiveness, Sage lowered her eyes and hoped—prayed—he would come to her.

  He did. Hyperactive nerves attacked her heart and blood tore through her veins.

  “Sage.” There was a hint of anger in the way he said her name, one she hadn’t heard before. He wrapped a warm hand around her bicep setting her skin on fire. “Come with me.” He walked her to a quiet corner at the back of the dark club. When they reached a booth with heavy velvet curtains, he released her arm and closed the drapes.

  “Sit.”

  Licking her lips, she did as instructed. Her pulse leaped in her throat and a sharp ache shot between her now damp thighs.

  “Care to explain?”

  “Goodness, imagine seeing you here. I thought I’d check this place out. Didn’t know you were a member.”

  Power emanated from him and the darkness in his eyes told her to cut the bullshit. “So you just decided to come to the club I’m a member of on a whim?”

  “I’d heard lots of good things about this place and when I saw there was an open night, I decided to apply.” She wouldn’t tell him about the letter she’d read. Nope. No way.

  He crossed his arms, his biceps bulging, threatening to rip the fabric of his tee. “Is that so?” He sat down in front of her on the edge of a table, clasped his fingers together and leaned forward. The gentle scent of his musky cologne mixed with leather left her dizzy.

  “Yes. No.” She cleared her throat. “What I mean is… You see, I used to be a sub, well, I am a sub, retired if you like. More like on hiatus.”

  “Go on,” he encouraged, his eyes narrowed and he leaned even closer.

  “That’s it really. I thought it was time to get back into the lifestyle. I’m as surprised to see you as you are me.”

  He pressed two fingers beneath her chin, scorching her skin, and lifted her head until their eyes met. “You didn’t seem surprised. In fact, if the look on your face was anything to go by, you were expecting me. And by the way Dawn, Melody, and Savannah stared at us; I would say they were expecting me, too.”

  “What? No… You’re…” Lying wasn’t how she wanted to begin their potential relationship. She drew in a deep breath and tucked her hands beneath her knees. “Okay, here’s the thing. I didn’t mean to, but I read something I shouldn’t have. I needed to grab some files from your office. I took whatever paperwork was on your desk and a letter from Yield was among the documents. The logo got my attention. I’m sorry. I truly am submissive. I know I look Amazonian…” Tears filled her eyes. Great job she was making of this. “It’s been a while since I’ve met someone I thought I could be with.”

  Dillon leaned back and crossed his arms. “I could fire you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Please don’t. I moved here especially to work for Ward Investments. I’ll never find another job in the city.”

  “I said I could fire you.”

  “Oh, okay, right.” She needed to stop talking before she got herself in any more trouble.

  He clucked his tongue, his eyes burrowing into her heart. “Tell me about your past experiences and then I’ll decide if I’m going to introduce you to another master or keep you for myself.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Please, keep me. I need to know who I’m with. I’d make an awful sub for someone else. Even though we’ve never…you know… I trust you.”

  “Sage.” The warning in his voice was enough to stop her babbling.

  “Experience. Right. I was with my last Dom for two years, but in the end he wanted to do things I wasn’t comfortable with. Needles, blood that sort of stuff.” Trembles shook her body. She skipped over the other painful, degrading things he’d done to her. Things so past her comfort level, she wanted to throw up at the thought of them.

  “Did he hurt you?” Dillon’s eyes softened.

  Shame heated her face and she thinned her lips. Admitting what he’d put her through, what she’d allowed him to put her through, was downright humiliating.

  Dillon ran a finger up her cheek and Sage leaned into him like a cat seeking comfort.

  “Yes.” Her lips trembled, but she closed her eyes and forced her emotions to settle. “Near the end, he liked to administer pain and see my blood. As much as he could until I passed out.” She opened her eyes and peeked at Dillon through lowered lashes.

  Anger emanated from his pores pushing her against the back of her seat. “Did he scar you?”

  Sage nodded. “Some. In time, they’ll fade.”

  “Poor little, pet.” His large palm caressed her cheek. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll hurt you too?”

  She lifted her eyes and met his gaze. “You won’t. I’ve worked with you long enough to know what you’re like. I found the letter months ago and since then I’ve watched you. Studied you. You’re firm but fair. Dominant but kind. You push people past their comfort zones, but don’t make them do things they don’t want to do or aren’t ready for. You get no pleasure from other people’s pain.”

  He laughed his hand still on her cheek. “You think so?”

  Confident in her assessment, she nodded. “Know so.”

  “I knew you’d read the letter, Sage.” His voice was low, but not accusatory. “There are cameras in my office.”

  She jerked away from his touch. “You knew? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I was waiting for you to come to me. I guessed something had happened to you; you were skittish and vulnerable but so damn good at your job. Efficient. Organized. When the time was right, I knew you’d seek me out.”

  Perhaps she should be angry, but she was too relieved to feel anything but joy and hope. “So what now?”

  He leaned in until his lips hovered a hairsbreadth from hers. “Now I learn more about you. I’ve already read your application. Liam consulted with me before allowing you to attend the open night. And I talked to the owner of your old club.”

  “You did? Why?” Embarrassed anger shook her body. “If you read my application, then you know all about the trips to the E.R. The restraining order.”

  “I do. We do extremely thorough checks. I’m a silent partner and we have to make sure it’s the best experience, the best fit, for our members.”

  “If you already knew so much about me, why did you make me tell you all that stuff?”

  “I wanted to see if you were ready to open up. An honest sub makes a good sub. You were hurt by someone you trusted. If you put your trust in me, I promise, I won’t hurt you unless you ask.”

  She shook her head. “I hate pain. It scares me.”

  “Tonight, I’ll only take you as far as I know you ca
n go.”

  “You mean.” Hope soared in her chest. “We… you’re going to do a scene with me?

  He leaned away, gave her a considering glance then held out his hand. “Let’s see where tonight takes us. Come, I have a private room.”

  “Alone? Just you and me?” Fear clawed at her throat. She wasn’t sure if doing a scene with him in private was the best thing. At least if they did a scene in the middle of the club, people would see the fear in her eyes, hear her safe word.

  She hesitated and didn’t take his hand. “I’m not sure, Dillon. I don’t know if I’m ready to be alone with you.”

  “Trust me, Sage. I won’t hurt you.”

  He wasn’t Roman. He wasn’t going to chain her to a cross and ignore her safe word. He wasn’t going to leave her bloody and bruised and in need of hospitalization. She stared at him, studying his strong face. The serenity she found there convinced her he would keep her safe.

  Taking his hand, she lowered her eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

  Dillon squeezed her hand and opened the curtains. When they passed her three new friends, she glanced back at their gleeful faces and laughed when each of them gave her a thumbs-up sign.

  Chapter Two

  Their footsteps echoed off the wooden stairs and matched the beat of her heart. When they reached the third floor, Dillon held a door open for her. Taking a deep breath, she released his hand and stepped inside closely followed by him.

  “Wow. Amazing.” Her mouth fell open in a stunned O. Silver and white damask wallpaper decorated the walls. A canopied bed the size of a small country took up most of the room. And what looked like a meat hook dangled from a chain secured to a slatted canopy at least nine foot above the bed—as did various ropes and other erotic instruments. A brown leather sheet covered the mattress—no comforter or pillows—and a St. Andrew’s cross complete with shackles took the place of the footrest. Some sort of cage supported the mattress. A cage beneath the bed! She didn’t want to do anything to end up in there. But as for the rest, her stomach somersaulted at the promises a bed like that gave. The bed was ideal for bondage, and bondage was something she adored. And until now, she hadn’t realized how much she missed the cool feel of rope binding her, restricting her.