The Collar, Page 22

  Dena had always loved their public play, and by the gleam in her eyes, nothing had changed.

  “That’s my favorite appetizer, Sir.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  Without another word, she disappeared under the table. Within seconds, her hands were on him, undoing his pants. He fisted the tablecloth as her warm mouth engulfed him.

  Fuck. What where they doing? They were acting like teenagers. He should pull her back up to the table and act like an adult.

  Then she took him so deep in her mouth, he reached the back of her throat, and he decided maybe she could keep it up a little bit more.

  “Excuse me, sir.” The waitress was suddenly standing by the table, and he could have kicked himself for not seeing her approach. “I didn’t ask what kind of salad dressing your friend wanted.”

  He wasn’t sure, but he thought Dena was laughing around his cock.

  “Uh, salad dressing?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. We have Italian, French, honey mustard, ranch, blue cheese—”

  “Blue cheese. Yes, that’s it.” He remembered she’d ordered blue cheese once.

  He thought.

  But under the table, Dena shook her head “no” around his cock.

  “No, wait. Not blue cheese.” He tried to think. Fuck, it was hard to concentrate on anything other than Dena’s mouth. “What were they again?”

  “Italian, French, honey mustard …”

  Dena’s head started nodding at “honey mustard.”

  “Honey mustard,” he said in a tight voice.

  The waitress wrote something down. “Got it. So,” she said, leaning against the wall to the right of the table. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you new in town?”

  Fuck. Was she going to stand there and talk?

  Under the table, Dena didn’t stop; in fact, she took him deeper.

  He sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m caring for my father. He’s sick.”

  “Where are you from, I mean if you’re just visiting here to help your dad?”

  Damn it all. Yes, she was going to stand there and talk. And, yes, he was certain Dena was laughing under the table.

  “Delaware,” he said, fisting Dena’s hair in order to still her.

  It worked, and she kept her head still. But he was buried deep in her mouth, and she decided to suck harder and run her tongue up and down his shaft. With every sweep of her tongue, Jeff felt his release building. He would have to do his best to hold it back.

  Fortunately, the waitress seemed to lose interest upon hearing he lived so far away. She pushed off the wall and left with an “I’ll go put this order in.”

  As soon as she left, he thrust hard into Dena’s mouth and released down her throat, swearing under his breath. Seconds later, she slid up into her seat, wearing a grin and licking her lips.

  “I thought that woman would never leave,” she said while he leaned back and gathered his breath. They locked gazes and laughed.

  “Me, too,” Jeff admitted. “Thank God I’m not from around here or she’d probably still be here.”

  “That was fun. We should do it again.”

  He was getting ready to voice out loud that they were walking down a dangerous path when the waitress delivered their salads.

  “Ah,” he said, looking down at the bowl of lettuce. “Saved by food.”

  “Saved?” Dena cut into a tomato. “How so?”

  Because I’m about ten seconds away from fucking you on top of the table. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Best not ask that question.”

  She gave him a sly smile that told him she knew why she shouldn’t be asking that question. She sighed. “Okay. If you insist.”

  “I do.” He was operating on too little sleep and too much emotion to properly control himself if she continued playing him.

  She seemed to understand his difficulty and thankfully changed the subject. For the next little bit, she caught him up on all the Wilmington gossip.

  “How’s that mentee you’ve been helping Daniel with?” he asked halfway through their main courses.

  “Ron? He’s doing okay, a little on the slow side. Daniel’s having to go over the same things repeatedly, and I can tell he’s not completely pleased with his progress. He had to have Cole run a session.”

  “How’d that go?”

  She took a bite of salad. “Pretty good. And by that I mean Cole didn’t make him cry.”

  “What do you think?”

  She took her time thinking through her reply. “I believe with enough work, he’ll become adequate, but he’ll never be a great Dom. There’s something inherent in the great ones. You guys are born with it. Not that there’s anything wrong with being adequate. He’ll be fine for someone looking for light or infrequent play.”

  “Have you discussed your thoughts with Daniel?”

  “Yes, several times. He agrees. Right now he’s just trying to give Ron enough knowledge so that he doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else.”

  Daniel would do everything he could to ensure everyone’s safety. Plus, he had the patience and nature to firmly but kindly instruct and reinstruct. That was one of the reasons Jeff never took on a mentee. While he had some patience, if he had to reinstruct too many times, he had to admit he lost it.

  He snorted. “Daniel should let Ron be the bottom in a scene or two; that’d help him.”

  “He’s already arranged a session with Mistress K.”

  His jaw dropped. “Shit. Kelly will rip him to shreds only so she can put him together and do it again.”

  “Exactly.” Dena laughed. “You should have seen the look on Ron’s face when Daniel suggested it. He told Ron he didn’t have to agree to it, but that it’d go a long way in completing his mentorship. I think they were going to try to set something up this weekend. Kinda sorry I’ll miss it.”

  “Daniel wouldn’t have let you watch anyway.”

  “I know. But still.”

  He narrowed his eyes and studied her carefully. “Not a big fan of Ron’s?”

  “Not really, no.” She caught his gaze and smiled. “Hard to be satisfied with adequate once you’ve had great.”

  His heart raced, but he forced his voice to remain calm. “Flattery?”

  “You know better. The night you collared me and made wax play something I craved, you proved you were the best.”

  If anyone would ever ask him why he’d never collared anyone after Dena, he need only look to that night for the answer. When she’d looked up at him from his table, there’d been fear in her eyes. Though he didn’t know exactly how the last wax scene she’d taken part in before that had gone, something had spooked her. Yet even in her fear, the trust that radiated from her body spoke far louder.

  It was that trust. The unguarded, raw trust she had in him that lit her eyes. He could play with every woman on the planet and he’d never find a more beautiful sight than the trust in Dena’s eyes.

  Unless it was the love in Dena’s eyes.

  He reached across the table to take her hand, but before he could, his phone rang. He dug it out from his pocket with a frown. He’d asked not to be called unless it was an emergency.

  “Damn,” he said. “It’s the nurse.”

  “Hello?” he said, answering the call.

  “Mr. Parks, sorry to interrupt your dinner. It’s your father. We’re losing him.”

  There was a ritual to death that was oddly comforting to Jeff. A schedule of events to follow and plenty of people to ensure everything got done. He supposed it happened that way to make it easier for those in mourning. Not that he truly grieved the loss of his father; but now that the man was really gone, Jeff realized the depth to which he grieved the relationship they could have had.

  Through it all, Dena was right in the thick of things. She handled the business associates and the few friends of his father graciously. Jeff supposed being a senator’s daughter had groomed her for such a role. Even still, every once in a while, he’d look and find her t
hanking someone for coming by or shaking the hand of a former client of his father’s and she would stun him with her poise and gentility.

  She looked so out of place: a queen in the midst of the lowly home of his childhood. He wondered what she would say if he shared his observation with her. Likely as not, she’d laugh and say he was crazy. Then she’d narrow her eyes and playfully tell him she had no desire to be queen.

  After the funeral, they drove back to the house. Finally, for what felt like the first time in days, they were alone together.

  Dena shrugged out of her coat. “Ugh. I forgot how exhausting funerals were.”

  It felt oddly quiet in the house. The hospital bed had been removed from the living room, and the noisy hum of equipment no longer filled the silence. Gone, too, was the flow of visitors.

  Dena hung up their coats, closed the closet door, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, just thinking about how silent the house is.” He sighed and looked around the room. “Guess I’ll start boxing up things pretty soon.”

  “You’re going to sell it that fast?”

  “I don’t see why not. There’s no reason to put it off. Most of the furniture and stuff I’ll give to Goodwill.” He walked toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Sure.” She ran a finger over the top edge of the well-worn couch. “Is there anything you’re going to keep?”

  “There’s nothing here for me. Nothing I want.” He took two glasses down. “The sooner I get this place settled, the sooner I can get back home.”

  “I can help pack things up,” she said, following him into the kitchen.

  “You’ve already done so much. You don’t have to help me pack.” He crossed the room to where she stood and cupped her cheek. “I haven’t said it enough, but thank you for all your help. You’ve done so much the last few days. I truly appreciate it.”

  Her eyes grew soft. “You don’t have to thank me. You’d do the same for me.”

  “Regardless, thank you.”

  He almost dropped his head to kiss her, but stopped himself at the last minute. It didn’t feel right to kiss her in his father’s kitchen, not many hours past his burial.

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered.

  He stroked her cheek and stepped away to get the iced tea from the refrigerator. “A bit sad most of the people who came today were old business associates and not friends, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe a lot of people had to work and couldn’t get off.”

  He snorted. “I don’t think so. The business was his wife, child, mistress, and best friend all wrapped in one.”

  “Then yes, that’s sad.”

  “I can’t remember how it was when Mom died. I was too young, I guess.”

  They carried their drinks into the living room and sat down on the couch. The couch was so small, their knees touched, and he knew if he sat back, he’d brush her shoulder as well.

  “How old were you when she died?” Dena asked.

  “Six,” he said. “And I hated her for leaving us. Hated that she loved her booze more than she loved me.”

  She took a sip of coffee. “How did your dad react to her death?”

  “I think in some ways it was a relief to him. He had one less person to look after.” He set the glass on the table, suddenly not in the mood for it anymore. “That’s all I ever was to him, something to look after.”

  Dena was silent. She’d never talked about her childhood much either, but he had a feeling the senator hadn’t won any Parent of the Year awards.

  “I found her,” he said, admitting something he’d never shared with anyone. “It was horrible. I was six, but that was the day my childhood ended.”

  “Oh, Jeff,” she said, and there were tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I came home from school and wanted a snack. I knew she kept the cookies hidden on the top shelf of the pantry. I figured she wouldn’t notice if I took one or two.” He stopped. Remembering back, being in the house, it was almost like reliving it. His sigh was shaky. “I went looking for cookies and found Mom sleeping on the floor. I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t wake up.”

  Dena put a hand on his knee. “Oh, Jeff.”

  “Something like that happens these days, you put the kid in therapy,” he said, not surprised to hear the bitterness in his voice. “You think I got sent to therapy? I got sent to my bedroom and was told to stay there. I think it took my dad two days to remember I was in the house.”

  “I … I had no idea.”

  “Can you see now why I was in such a hurry to leave this godforsaken place and never come back?”

  Silent tears ran down her face as she nodded.

  “Soon as I turned sixteen, I was out. I wasn’t sure where I was headed, but I thought anywhere was better than here. Hitchhiked my way to New York, where I joined up with a group of petty thieves. We lived hard. Probably would have died on the streets if it hadn’t been for Grandma.”

  She sniffled. “Your grandmother followed you to New York?”

  “Not my biological grandmother. Grandma was an older lady who lived in a small apartment I broke into. She caught me.”

  “What happened?”

  “She cooked me dinner,” he said with a smile.

  “She what?”

  “She told me she’d cook me dinner and all I had to do was listen to her.” He shrugged. “I figured a hot home-cooked meal in exchange for listening to an old lady gabber? Easy as pie.”

  She’d told him he looked like her son, all dark and dangerous and ready to pick a fight with anyone who looked at him wrong. Over dinner she said he could be a thug and fight for the wrong reasons, like her son, and die too young, like her son had. Or he could be a man and fight for the right ones.

  “You picked the right ones?” Dena asked.

  Jeff grinned. “Actually, I looked at her and said, ‘Hell, Grandma, I’ll fight whoever you damn well want me to if you’ll cook me dinner again.’”

  Dena laughed.

  “So she became ‘Grandma.’ I lived with her until she died of a massive heart attack. She’s the one who encouraged me to get my GED and join the NYPD. And she was the only person who came to my graduation from the police academy. After she died, I moved to Delaware. Worked on the force there for a few years and then quit to open the business. I was able to afford it because she left everything to me. Best damn woman I ever knew.” He smiled at her. “Over sixty, that is.”

  “She saved you.”

  “She did.”

  “Why Delaware?”

  “Why not? I figured with all the big businesses in Wilmington, there’d be need for my services.”

  She looked at him quizzically for a long time. “Why did I not know this about you before?”

  “I don’t like talking about it.”

  “We lived together for how many years?”

  “Are we going to fight about this? Is that what you want?”

  Her arms were crossed and her iced tea sat beside his, neglected. She looked pissed.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t want to fight. I’m just angry you have this whole past I knew nothing about until today.”

  “You’ve never been exactly forthcoming about life with Daddy Dearest.”

  “What’s there to tell? I was raised by nannies and dragged out on important occasions to smile and look pretty.” She shot him an evil glare. “But my dad never sent me to my room and forgot about me for two days.”

  “No, your dad just threatens to shoot people if he doesn’t get his way.”