Anna Leigh Keaton & Madison Layle - Incognito 06 - Charming Carmen Page 3

  Carmen stared at the door for a moment then turned to take in the bedroom. The walls were painted a warm, sandy tan, the rug a rich dark chocolate. The bedspread was cream-colored, and the furniture antiqued brass, white pine, and smoked glass. The place was so picturesque. She’d have to talk to Olivia and the brothers to see if there was any possibility of her ever being able to afford a place like this around here. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to get beachfront property, but somewhere nearby? She’d like to be close enough to visit Olivia when she wasn’t working.

  Carmen stripped, leaving her clothes on the floor, and pulled on her bathing suit. Hmm, it was getting a bit snug. Too much junk food lately.

  As she stared at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door, she had to blink back the rush of tears. Damn it. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she took a couple of deep breaths. She didn’t care about her size. She’d long ago accepted the fact that she’d never qualify as a cover model. That wasn’t a problem. It was everything else she hadn’t quite dealt with yet.

  All hell had been breaking loose in her life at the Rosemont Hotel where she’d worked forever. When Olivia had called her to ask if she wanted a vacation and to come housesit for them for two weeks, she’d given up fighting the hotel management and quit.

  She wasn’t destitute. She had a nice bankroll because she’d been saving almost every penny she made for over ten years, but... But she hadn’t been jobless since she was fifteen years old. She hadn’t gone on a job interview in over twelve years. She was a little scared. And she was feeling quite alone, something that had never plagued her before.

  She wished Olivia hadn’t gone on the trip. She wanted to talk to her. Olivia always had good advice to give. Olivia was the only person she’d had to lean on for most of her adult life.

  A soft knock on the door had her swiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She was not going to be caught crying. Carmen Fernandez did not cry.

  “May I serve your supper on the patio?” Carl called through the door.

  “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Chapter Three

  Carl dished up the spinach chicken salad and then pulled the lightly toasted cheese bread from the oven.

  He wondered about the sadness in Carmen’s eyes as she’d looked around the cottage. What had caused the change in mood? The other night at the auction, she’d been all smiles and curiosity. Taking the food onto the patio, he set it on the table and double-checked the china. He poured a glass of ice water and popped the cork on the champagne.

  “That looks wonderful,” Carmen said as she came outside. He held her chair for her, and she sat.

  He’d hoped for a bikini, but as he peered over her shoulder, he was rewarded with a glimpse of her more-than-ample breasts. Nice. He loved a soft woman. She wore a floral sarong that covered her from waist to ankles, but the bare flesh of her shoulders and neck looked soft and delectable. He breathed in her sweet, warm scent of summer flowers and vanilla before stepping to her side and carefully laying the linen napkin across her lap.

  She smiled up at him, and it took all his concentration not to smile back. She was pretty in a down-home, sweet way. He bowed instead, then reached for the champagne in the ice bucket and poured her a glass. “Mistress,” he said softly. “Is there anything else you would care for?”

  She looked over her plate and shook her head. “It looks really good. Thank you.”

  He nodded and stepped back, just to the left and behind her, then folded his hands behind his back. She’d filled out a questionnaire Kat and Dalton supplied the night of the auction, stating her food and beverage preferences. The fridge had been stocked to keep her appetite appeased.

  She twisted around to look at him then frowned. “What’re you doing?”

  “I am waiting for instructions, Mistress,” he answered, keeping his smile inside. She looked so adorably confused. She obviously didn’t know the ways of the D/s life.

  “Well. Don’t you want to eat?” She motioned to the seat next to her. “You can sit with me. I don’t bite.”

  “If it is your wish that I sit with you, Mistress, I would be honored.”

  When he didn’t move, she sighed. “Yeah. It’s my wish. Sit down. You’re making me nervous hovering over me like that.”

  He moved toward the table to take the empty seat next to her.

  “Wait,” she said. “You need a plate and glasses and stuff.”

  “Yes, Mistress. Excuse me.” He bowed before heading inside to the kitchen. He’d eaten before she arrived, but he’d dish himself some salad if it would make her happy. He grabbed a champagne flute, water glass, plate, and some silverware before heading back to the patio.

  After he took the seat next to her, he said, “Is the meal to your liking, Mistress?”

  She speared a mandarin slice in her salad and put it in her mouth, then nodded. After she swallowed, she said, “It’s good. You made this?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He poured himself a glass of champagne, and one of ice water.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. When she finished her water, he poured her another glass. She smiled at him, her pretty white teeth flashing against her toasted skin. Her dark, dark eyes were the color of the most expensive chocolate, almost black, but not quite. He found it difficult to not stare directly at her. She was simply too beautiful for words.

  As Carmen finished her food, she picked up her champagne glass and leaned back in the thickly padded wrought iron chair. She sighed, her eyes drifting closed as she took a sip of the sparkling wine. “I like it here,” she said softly.

  He didn’t think she meant the cottage. “May I speak freely, Mistress?”

  Her eyes opened, but her brow wrinkled into an annoyed frowned. “Yes. Speak anytime you want.”

  He nodded in acquiescence, keeping his expression neutral and his face downcast. Little tricks he’d learned over the years to keep Doms from knowing he saw their every move and expression. He’d needed it while living the role of Kat’s slave and protector at Incognito for so many years.

  “Where are you from?”

  Her brow wrinkled. “I change my mind. No questions. I don’t want to talk about myself right now.”

  “As you wish, Mistress.”

  She turned her head and looked at him. “Can I ask you questions about the alternative lifestyle, though?”

  He wanted so badly to smile at her asking him for permission that he lowered his head farther to keep her from noticing the twitch in his lips. “Of course, Mistress.”

  “How can you sit there and keep calling me Mistress? Isn’t that degrading to you? Doesn’t it make you feel...I don’t know...less human?”

  “Quite the opposite. Mistress is just a title of respect, not unlike sir or ma’am. I don’t believe there’s anything degrading in showing one’s respect or in servicing others. I do respect you and what you did for the shelter. I want to provide for your needs. To make you happy makes me happy.”

  “Is this what you do for a living? Are you Katriona’s slave...for pay?”

  “No.” He couldn’t completely keep his smile to himself. “I’m not a gigolo. I’m the accountant for Incognito. Being a slave only affects my personal life, not my professional one.”

  “Oh. Good.” She grinned. “So I guess that’s how you and Katriona got together? You went to work for her? Or was it the other way around?”

  “She hired me as her accountant first.” When Incognito opened its doors about six months after he started working for her, there’d been a few unruly clients. It hadn’t taken much for him to slide into the role of Kat’s slave, therefore making himself available to help when situations arose.

  “So, you live with Katriona and Dalton?”

  Shit. No one knew his true relationship with Katriona except Kat and Dalton. Incognito clientele had no clue he and Kat weren’t an item—that they never had been.

  “No. I don’t live with her. I live on Incognito property in orde
r to keep an eye on things when she’s not here.” It was most of the truth. Until a few months ago, Katriona lived right here in this cottage. She’d finished cleaning out her stuff and moved into Dalton’s house because of renovations. Carl’s home was another cottage just down the beach, barely visible from where he sat now.

  “Accountant and caretaker. Hmm.”

  He wondered what she meant by that, but he wasn’t about to ask. She said no questions. He would obey, even if curiosity killed him.

  She finished her champagne in one long swallow, but when he reached for the bottle in the ice bucket, she waved him off.

  “Nope. This was enough. Any more and I’ll fall asleep.” She grinned at him. “I heard you were a wiz at giving massages. You up for it?”

  Oh yeah. He was dying to get his hands on her. “As you wish, Mistress.”

  She laughed and pushed out of the chair. “As weird as it is to hear you say it so often, I kinda like it. Makes me feel like a princess.” She headed through the patio doorway.

  He followed her into the cottage.

  “Where do you want me?”

  Carl closed his eyes for an instant and drew in a deep breath. He wanted her straddling his lap as he sank deep into her hot, wet pussy, those glorious breasts pressed against his face. “I’ll get the massage table,” he said instead. “There’s a selection of music by the CD player.” He pointed toward the entertainment center. “If it pleases you, choose something you would like to listen to while I help you relax.”

  She giggled. “It pleases me, Carl.” She winked at him. “And so do you.”

  She was a tease. He grinned after turning away to retrieve the massage table from the back of the bedroom closet.

  When he returned, he was glad to hear her choice of music. Andrea Bocelli. One of his personal favorites.

  Carmen examined a painting of a seascape hanging on the wall as he set up the table.

  “I am ready for you, Mistress Carmen.”

  She turned toward him, glanced at the table, then looked back at him. “Uh. Do you have a stool? I can’t get up on that.”

  He held out his hand for her. She stepped close and raised her eyebrows at him. He took a second to stare at those full, lush lips of hers that he wanted to kiss more than he wanted to draw his next breath. He should probably ask permission, but... He wrapped his hands around her waist and easily lifted her onto the table.

  She yelped and grabbed his shoulders, her fingertips digging into his flesh. Lust shot through him, and he had to force himself to release her. He wasn’t used to these sharp, poignant feelings of...want. He had women whenever he needed the release. Incognito gave him more playtime than he could ever use. Why the fuck was this short, busty woman making him nearly forget who he was?

  Carmen swallowed hard. Holy shit. He just lifted her up on the table as if she weighed nothing. She couldn’t remember a man ever lifting her off the floor before. And without even grunting and straining?

  Oh...oh, he felt good. Her fingers flexed against his shoulders of their own accord. He was so hard...his skin so smooth. With him standing so close, his scent overwhelmed her, leaving her a little lightheaded.

  “You’re strong,” she said, embarrassed that the words slipped out, and mortified that her voice sounded as if she were a three pack a day smoker.

  To her chagrin, Carl pulled back. “You are small,” he said as he turned away.

  A gusty giggle slipped out before she could stop it. “I’m forty pounds overweight. No one has ever called me small.”

  He disappeared into her bedroom then returned with a bottle of oil. When he stepped close again, her breath caught in her throat. He met her eyes full on. “You are small...and beautiful, Mistress Carmen.” His gaze roved over her face, zeroed in on her lips, then slid away. “Please, lie down.”

  She stretched out on her stomach. As much as she’d like to stare at him, lying facedown was a better position with him standing so close. It would have been so easy to lean forward and touch her lips to his skin. To run her fingers through his chest hair. To taste his lips and find out if they are as soft and warm as they appeared.

  No sex, she reminded herself. The auction paperwork had been specific on that.

  “May I remove your wrap?” he asked.

  “Uh huh.” She reached for the knot at her side, but her hand bumped his, and she jerked away.

  The cool air of the room brushed over her legs when he removed the sarong. She lifted her hips slightly when he tugged on the material, and he pulled it out from beneath her.

  She expected his touch on her back, and startled when his big, warm hands, slick with oil, slid over one of her ankles.

  “Shh, Mistress,” he said, his voice barely louder than the soft music playing in the background. “I would never harm you. Please try to relax.”

  I would never harm you. She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. How long had she waited to hear someone—anyone—say those words to her? Even if it was only today, only a fantasy that she’d paid for, she liked hearing it.

  He took care with her feet, running his thumb along her arch, between her toes... “Oh, God, Carl.” She moaned when he moved from one to the other foot. “I never want you to stop.”

  “As you wish.”

  His words made her giggle. “I didn’t mean that literally.”

  He didn’t respond except to move to her calves, kneading her muscles with sure, strong strokes. Long minutes later, he worked his way up to the backs of her thighs, then between her thighs. Her breath caught, and she waited.... Would he? Please... Just a little higher....

  She bit her lip to stifle a sob of disappointment when he moved up the table and started on her right hand and forearm. She should not be having these thoughts. She should not be getting damp with arousal or be throbbing with need. It wasn’t as if she’d been celibate long. There was no biological need for her to crave this man.

  But he smelled so good, and he touched her with such care. The oil was slick and silky between his hands and her body. If he touched her clit—

  “Relax, Mistress. You are so tense all of a sudden.”

  Her breaths came in hard and fast. “Talk to me.”

  “What would you like to talk about?” he asked, moving around to the other side of the table. He took her left hand and gave it the same tender attention he’d given the other one.

  “Tell me more. Tell me about being a slave. Do you...” She didn’t want to know that. Didn’t want to know how many women he touched like this. “Do you do everything you’re told?”

  “Within reason. I follow orders given as long as they do not cause harm to myself or anyone else.”

  “No harm,” she repeated.

  “That’s right. The motto of alternative lifestyles enforced at Incognito is Safe, Sane and Consensual. It’s a personal code I take very seriously.”

  “That’s a good motto.”

  “Mmm hmm.” His hands were so warm and smooth as he moved up her arms to her shoulders. “May I pull down your straps?” His finger tickled her shoulder as he ran it beneath the strap of her swimsuit.

  “Uh.” She wondered if she’d hyperventilate. “Okay.”

  He pulled one strap down, guided her arm until it was out, and then he did the other one. All the while his fingers were gentle. The oil smelled of spice and musk. Similar to Carl’s own scent, yet different.

  When he ran his hands from the small of her back, up and over her shoulders, she couldn’t stifle the moan of pure pleasure.

  “Mistress approves of my technique?” he asked.

  She wondered if the humor in his voice was real or imagined. Either way, she couldn’t deny how good it felt. “Yesss. Very much approve.”

  He worked her shoulder muscles, and soon she felt as if she’d turned to gelatin. As his fingers glided over her sides, so close to her breasts, her arousal throbbed through her, and she had to ignore it. Had to! “Tell me,” she said, doing what she could to focus on anything other
than the thrum of heat pulsing through her body. She wanted to press her hips into the table to alleviate the ache.

  “Hmm...?” The deep sound of his voice rumbled through her, warming her insides like hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night.

  “You’d do anything I instructed?”

  “Within reason, of course. Yes.”

  “If I told you to stop.”

  His hands pulled off of her before the word was completely out of her mouth.

  “No. Don’t stop,” she said. It was torture, sublime torture. She was going to have to go use that Jacuzzi tub when he was done. The one perk to her hotel room was the whirlpool jets in the tub. She knew she could get off fast and hard with them.

  He continued the massage.

  “Would you...go to the store and buy me a carton of rocky road if I asked?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Was that humor she heard in his voice?

  “And you’d do that for any dominatrix?”

  He didn’t answer right away, so she turned her head to look at him.

  “No. Not for any Domme.”

  “I thought a slave had no choice but to obey.”

  “I choose whom I serve. Some slaves live the lifestyle 24/7. I do not. I work a full‑time job and am not submissive in that respect. I decide when I role-play and with whom.”

  “So, this is a game to you?”

  He paused again, but then said, “It is not a game to me. When I say role-play, I mean that...” He stopped. Even his hands stopped mid stroke. “When I do my grocery shopping, I do not wear chains and cuffs. I don’t divert my eyes from meeting gazes. When I put on the costume and work evenings in Incognito, or whenever I’m with a woman who is also part of the lifestyle, that is when my other self comes out and I’m free to be the sexual being I enjoy most.”

  His fingers pressed and kneaded her bare shoulders again. One palm slid down her spine. As his hands resumed their tender strokes, Carmen’s nipples hardened against the cushioned massage table, and she nearly groaned. Hearing him use the words sexual being while he touched her almost knocked her over the edge. She struggled to think of something to say that might turn the tide—get her mind on other topics and off how wonderful his hands felt on her body.