I Married a Master(42)
Author: Melanie Marchande

"I’ll do you one better than that," I said, smoothly. "But you have to do something for me."

She frowned. "Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not looking for any special favors. Just a chance to talk to him. If I can’t win him over on my own merits…"

Oh, fuck no. Spencer Holloway could charm the clothes off anyone. Literally. I couldn’t let them be alone together, or I risked the whole thing blowing up in my face. Hell, just a picture of them with their heads together at a party would be enough to raise Daria’s suspicions. I wasn’t the jealous type, but I never let her near him. I didn’t like to tempt fate.

I shook my head. "I’m here to tell you, that’ll never work. Let me handle this. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you don’t want to botch it. I’ll give him your reel, but he won’t pull any strings for you unless he really likes it. He doesn’t me any favors. You won’t be getting any special treatment – just an opportunity. No different than this, except he’ll actually remember it, because he’ll ideally be sober at the time."

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me, considering this.

"Fine," she said. "So what do I have to do for you?"

"You already agreed to do it," I said, mildly. "Doesn’t matter what it is."

"Oh, come on." She rolled her eyes. "We’re not doing playground rules. That was clearly a conditional agreement."

"No playground rules? What is this, Thunderdome?" I protested. She just glared at me. "Agree right now, or it’s no deal."

"You don’t play fair," she said. "You know if I don’t like it, I’ll just walk away, right?"

I knew. I knew all too well.

"That’s fine," I said. "But you know I’m a reasonable man. Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah." She smiled, secretively, lifting her empty glass. "We’ve got a deal."

***

Oddly enough, Jenna didn’t stay glued to my side the entire night. She actually started talking to people, and at times, we drifted far enough apart that I lost track of how much she was drinking. But after a few hours, when I ran into her again, the shine of her eyes made it all too obvious.

"I think you might’ve been right about the women in the room," she purred, sauntering up to me with an unsteady gait. "I’ve been getting some eyes."

The mental image was enough to send me spiraling back down to the same insanity that had overtaken me in the limo. I shook my head to banish the thoughts. "I’m tired of everyone in this room staring at you like they want a piece of what’s mine."

A moment later I realized what I’d said, but Jenna didn’t correct me. "Oh, don’t pretend like you wouldn’t love it."

"Honestly? The only thing I’d love right now is something I probably shouldn’t talk about. Since we’re in public, and you’re drunk, and all."

"I’m not drunk," she insisted, in the way only drunk people do. She seized my hand, taking the opportunity to draw little circles in my palm with her finger. "I could stand to go home, though."

"That’s probably for the best." I had to get away from her. This wasn’t a fun game anymore, now that I knew there was no chance of a satisfying ending. She was too far gone. She needed to go home and sleep it off, and hopefully forget about how many times I tried to devour her with my eyes.

We said our goodbyes, as quickly and discreetly as possible – not that she was the only one there who’d overindulged, but I didn’t want her to feel embarrassed in the morning.

Tim had the town car waiting, and I bundled her in before taking my seat.

"Time to take you home," I said, as I held her seatbelt buckle steady for her. She still managed to stab the metal connector into my hand several times before hitting home.

"What about our deal?" She was pouting. "I want to know what it is."

"We’ll talk about it tomorrow," I insisted. "Tonight, you need some rest."

I’d planned for her to come home with me, very visibly, so no one could mistake our inevitable trajectory towards cohabitation. But now, it didn’t feel right. I’d never take advantage of her like this, no matter how much I’d spent the night salivating over her. But it didn’t look good – did it?

"I don’t wanna go home," she protested, flopping against me. "It’s cold there. And too quiet."

"Turn up the heat." I dutifully removed her hand from my thigh. I’d spent so much of the evening in a haze of denied arousal that it hardly even affected me anymore. I wasn’t sure if my dick would ever go completely limp again. I wondered if this was the sort of scenario you should call a doctor about.

She just giggled.

"Did you want to take her home, boss?" Tim was stoic, as always. God love the man.

"NO!" she protested, loudly. "I wanna…I don’t wanna go home."

Her hand was creeping up my thigh again.

We were dating. It wasn’t weird for me to take her home falling-down drunk. No one would think I was an asshole. Good boyfriends were supposed to do this.

"No, that’s fine, Tim. She’ll stay at my place tonight."

"Yaaaay," she said, softly, her head resting heavily on my shoulder.

For a long time, the car was completely silent except for the soft, abstract humming of road noise.

"Were you thinking about spanking me?"

My whole body jolted to attention. I frantically stabbed the button to raise the partition, although I wasn’t sure why I cared so much.

"What?" I hissed, pulling her hand off my thigh again.

"Earlier," she muttered. "In the car, when you got all hot and bothered. Were you thinking about spanking me?"

Oh, God. Was it that obvious?

Hell. She asked. With any luck, all of this would fade in the morning anyway.

"Yes," I said, gruffly. "Among other things."

She smiled, eyes still closed. "I don’t know why, but I like that."

I know why.

"I don’t want to talk about this right now," I said, that frustrating throb rising in my groin again. "I’ve been fighting to keep my hands off you all night, and now I’m fighting to keep your hands off me."

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I know I shouldn’t. It’s just…it’s nice to pretend." She sighed. "But we have to talk about it now. Now’s the time when it’s safe. I know you won’t let anything happen. You’re an ass, but you’re not that kind of ass."

"I won’t," I assured her. "But that doesn’t give you free license to torture me with what I can never have."

"Never?" she repeated, opening one eye. "What makes you say never?"