Kennel Time Read online

  Kennel Time

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Valerie Tibbs

  Kennel Time © May 2010 Cherry Lee

  eXcessica publishing

  A Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved

  Kennel Time

  By Cherry Lee

  Chapter One

  “She’s a pit bull. When that woman gets hold of something she never lets go.” The voice was high and as brittle as old glass. Sabrina thought she recognized the woman as Astrid Tamer, one of the legal aides.

  “Someone like that gets a little bit of power and it goes to her head,” another woman said. “She’s forgotten what it’s like to be on the way up. She never cuts anyone any slack.” That voice belonged to Marie Bonham, who spent more time gossiping by the water cooler than working.

  Sabrina sat on the toilet with her panties around her ankles, staring at the stall door and listening to her staff discuss her. She’d always figured they ripped her apart. What employees didn’t complain about their bosses? But hearing catty words spoken in angry hisses was different from having a general knowledge that people talked about her.

  “None of the men are that hard-nosed. She’s a hyper-critical, anal retentive bitch,” Marie declared. “Why is it women in power think they have to be like that?”

  Because no one respects them unless they act even tougher than the guys. Try it yourself, bitch! But Marie would never rise from the ranks of the legal aides. It was a surprise she’d even gotten that far. Her skills were minimal. Sabrina would’ve fired her if she wasn’t overruled by Craig Johnson, whom Sabrina suspected of keeping Marie around either because he wanted to lay her or because she was a good lay.

  “You know she was married,” Astrid said. “Can you imagine? Wonder if the guy escaped with his balls intact.”

  Marie laughed. Water splashed in the sink, the air dryer turned on and Marie spoke above the noise. “She probably had him so whipped he piddled every time she walked into the room.”

  The two women laughed, a humorless, barking sound.

  Sabrina pictured herself walking out of the stall, casually crossing to the sink and washing her hands. “Good afternoon, ladies.” She could imagine the expressions of horror on their faces as they realized they’d committed career suicide.

  But she couldn’t fire them for smearing her. It was petty and unproductive. Astrid was actually very good at what she did. Marie wasn’t, but if Sabrina dismissed her she’d look weak and unable to take criticism. She might even invite a lawsuit from the disgruntled woman. No, if she fired Marie it must be for solid, work-related reasons. It was much better to remain silent, hidden, demeaned by their sneering voices. Only after they’d left the restroom would she emerge.

  She sat there in that humiliating position with her bottom bared and her underwear around her ankles, barely breathing, trying not to hear their jibes. Sabrina knew she’d earned her position through hard work and sacrifice—including her personal life—but these bitches would never see what she’d given up and how lonely it was at the top. To them, she was an obstacle to overcome on their own way up the ladder. It was the world she’d opted for; she should let this shit roll off her. But deep inside her was a little animal who cringed from their cutting words.

  The ladies’ conversation turned to emasculating Craig Johnson, her partner in the law firm, and then their voices faded as the restroom door closed behind them. Sabrina sat for another moment before standing and flushing the toilet. She exited the stall and walked to the sink to wash her hands and peer at the woman in the mirror. Her perfectly applied makeup, stylish haircut, designer blouse and understated gold necklace proclaimed her a sophisticated, successful woman.

  Sabrina reapplied her lipstick, brushed a stray strand of honey-blond hair into place and walked out of the restroom, back to her office. No one would ever see the doubt behind her cool blue eyes. She would make sure of that.

  * * * *

  At the end of work, after dealing with clients and coworkers and a mysteriously mislaid brief, Sabrina wanted to go home and drop straight into bed. She told herself she should develop some kind of post-work social life, but every Friday she opted to stay home, read a book and retire early. Tonight the choice was out of her hands. She had to attend the Goldstein wedding. Wendy was one of her close friends from college although they no longer shared the same circle. She had to attend.

  Because the reception was closer to work than home, Sabrina had brought an outfit to work and changed in her office. The gray, watered-silk sheath dress softened her hard edge, she thought, as she looked at her reflection once more. Pearls replaced the gold chain around her neck. It was hardly a come-fuck-me, party dress, but she looked elegant and understated. Her mother would be proud.

  She took a taxi to the reception hall, added her envelope containing a sizable check to the gift table, and looked around the room for anyone she knew from her college years. Another sorority sister, Beth Tibido was in the bridal party, but other than her and Wendy, there wasn’t a soul Sabrina recognized. All were relatives and more recent friends of the bridal couple. She started to calculate how quickly she could offer her congratulations to Wendy and fade away, unnoticed.

  Just then, the bride caught sight of her from across the room. Wendy beckoned wildly. Sabrina smiled and marched resolutely across the room toward the bridal party.

  “Witch, how are you? It’s been so long. Why do we always promise to meet for lunch and never do it? As soon as I get back from my honeymoon, we’re setting a date and sticking to it.” Wendy babbled and Sabrina smiled and agreed with everything she said. After all, she was the bride. It was her day.

  She chatted with Wendy and Beth as the photographer snapped informal shots. When it was time for the bridal party to be seated for toasts, Sabrina left the dais and started to search for her assigned seat.

  “Hey, what’s with the nickname?” A low voice right beside her made her squeak in surprise and spin around. The photographer studied her with assessing green eyes as if she was a subject he might like to shoot.

  “Nickname? Oh, ‘Witch’ as in ‘Sabrina the Teenage…’ Stupid nickname Wendy gave me, but it stuck.” She spoke in terse sentences, incapable of stringing more words together. The photographer was hot. She hadn’t noticed before when he’d had a camera in front of his face. Now she could see his amazing eyes and sexy, bowed upper lip.

  “I’m Brian.” He extended his hand and she took it. His grip was firm and warm and left a phantom impression on hers after he let go.

  Although Brian had on a suit, he gave the appearance of wearing a faded T-shirt and ripped jeans. The suit was rumpled and he hadn’t bothered with a tie. His hair was brown and long. He peered through a fringe of sha
ggy bangs. A casual guy. Not concerned with appearances. Maybe a little bohemian, she thought. An artist. Wedding gigs were his bread and butter, but his real work awaited an art gallery show—someday.

  “You do weddings often?” she asked, dying to know if she’d pegged him right.

  He grimaced. “Too often. But everybody’s gotta eat. How do you buy bread?”

  His quirky way of asking her occupation amused Sabrina. She smiled. “I’m afraid to tell you. People don’t much like my kind.”

  “Telemarketer?” He didn’t smile but the ghost of one danced on his lips and filled his eyes.

  “Even worse. Lawyer,” she confessed. “Corporate.”

  “The tool of the Man. I pity you.”

  She liked his dry sense of humor and his incredibly sexy presence. This evening was suddenly way more interesting than it had been two minutes ago.

  “So are you staying or flying? When I took your picture up there, I could see escape in your eyes.” His voice was as warm as a blanket wrapped around her, the voice of a disc jockey on a late night radio show.

  “I don’t know. What do you think I should do?” My God was she flirting? It was so not like her.

  “Stay.” It wasn’t a request but a command. He pointed his finger at her. “I have to go take more pictures, but you stay right there. Don’t move.”

  Sabrina raised her eyebrows as the photographer turned away, not looking back to see if she complied with his order. Did he literally mean for her to wait right there in the middle of the room? She needed to find the seat where she belonged. She couldn’t simply stand here. But her feet remained frozen while the party swirled around her. His command was undeniable. She felt it in her gut, the strong need to obey his quiet voice.

  She folded her arms over her chest, hiding the peaks of her nipples that were sharp enough to show through both bra and dress. Her pussy clenched tight then released wetly, responding to the man’s charisma. Sabrina knew exactly what was happening. She’d played a few BDSM scenes before. A rare visit to a kink club was her dirty little secret, which no one in her work world would ever know about. And she recognized a Dom when she met one. Photographer guy wanted her to play. All right then, she’d play.

  * * * *

  Brian snuck glances at the refined woman with the stick up her ass, still standing right where he’d told her to wait. The sense of power that gave him made his cock so hard it pressed against his trousers. He buttoned the stupid jacket that didn’t match the trousers in order to hide his growing erection.

  How long would she stay there simply because he’d told her to? He snapped a picture of the best man’s toast, the maid of honor’s toast, and then he took some random photos of guests simply to keep the beautiful woman waiting. The flower girl playing Game Boy with the ring bearer, the grandmother of the bride leaning in to kiss her husband’s cheek, a couple arguing over in a corner near the punch bowl—Brian captured them all before turning back to the intriguing prospect of the woman in gray.

  She still stood there. Most of the guests were seated now, except those going through the buffet line, yet still she waited. At his bidding. Another swell of lust surged through him. She was so beautiful, with luminous skin and incredible bone structure, a perfect model for black and white photographs. Brian had been struck by her elegant demeanor right away, but even more by the vulnerability he’d seen in her eyes when he looked at her through the camera lens.

  He took one last photograph of the bridal couple kissing over their champagne glasses and then he started toward the waiting woman. She was looking over one shoulder, eyeing an empty spot at one of the tables, obviously trying to decide if it was hers and if she should head toward it. Don’t move, sweetheart. You stay right there.

  She faced forward again and her eyes widened as he stopped in front of her.

  “I see you waited for me. Good girl.” He smiled. “Now what do you wanna do? Are you really going to eat stringy roast beef or overcooked whitefish, or are you gonna go with me to the bar, get some drinks and take them outside?”

  Brian didn’t wait for her answer. He took control, holding her arm and leading her toward the bar. And she let him steer her. Oh yes, she was waiting for someone like him.

  “Long line,” she commented.

  “Are you in a hurry?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “No, I suppose not. I thought I’d know more people than I do. It’s a little awkward.” She shifted beside him. Maybe she wanted to pull her arm away from his hand, or thought she ought to want to.

  “So the bride’s your old college friend but you haven’t really seen her in years?”

  “I haven’t. We’ve chatted a few times, but that’s about it.”

  He looked down into her eyes not so very much lower than his, but enough that she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. “I’m guessing you’re addicted to your career and haven’t made many new friends since college, at least no one you could drag along with you tonight. I’m also guessing if you weren’t here, you’d be home alone, crashing after a sixty hour work week.”

  She held up her hands. “You win. I’m a workaholic. A walking cliché of the over-stressed, career-oriented woman.”

  “Everyone could be considered a cliché. You’re the high-powered corporate bitch. I’m the laid-back wanna-be artist. Everyone fits into a slot. But we’re all so much more than that, aren’t we?” He leaned close, not letting her look away from his eyes, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath his hand, and the warmth of her body, so close. She smelled delicately of some perfume that probably cost much more than his cheap suit.

  “We’re not just cardboard cutout people,” he continued. “We have inner angels and demons, hopes, dreams, crazy-assed urges. Every single fucking person here is a little bit different from every other one.” He slid his hand up and down her arm and felt it pebble with gooseflesh from his touch. “What are your secret dreams and urges?”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you come on kind of strong?” She quirked an eyebrow, trying for cool, but the fact that her voice cracked ruined the effect.

  Bryan slid his hand down her arm once more and then released her. “What do you want?”

  “Huh?” She blinked, coming out of the trance he’d put her in.

  “From the bar?” He grinned. “What do you want to drink?” They’d moved up in line and the bartender awaited their order.

  “A glass of Chardonnay, please.” She accepted the plastic cup of wine and drank deeply. Her face was flushed and the alcohol hadn’t even hit her system yet.

  Brian grabbed a cup of beer and put a hand to her waist to guide her out the side exit. Fresh air hit them as they left the crowded dining hall behind. It was late evening, the sun long set, and the back parking lot cast in the yellow glow of sodium light. They stood in deep shadow on the side of the building, private and alone.

  Sabrina finished her wine then stared into the cup as if surprised to find it empty. Her pale gray dress shimmered in the darkness. Brian couldn’t keep from reaching out and stroking his hand over the smooth material where it covered her stomach. The dress suited her—cool, elegant, expensive, and waiting for someone like him to muss it up. Sabrina looked up at him, opened her mouth to make small talk, but he shushed her with a finger to her lips. Brian understood the subtle dynamics of power, how to nurture and maintain it, and right now he demanded her silence. The longer they both remained in this state of hushed quiet, the more a sense of intimacy grew between them.

  He set his beer on the ground and straightened before sliding his hands around her waist. He dipped his head, peering into her eyes through the dimness, giving her time to adjust to the fact he was about to kiss the hell out of her.

  “I...” All of her protests—I don’t know you. I don’t do things like this. What the hell do you think you’re doing?—remained stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard.

  “Good girl,” Brian breathed and then he touched his lips to hers.

  Chapte
r Two

  His kiss surprised her. Not that he was doing it, which she had felt coming since the moment their eyes met, but how light and soft it was. Sabrina had half expected this dominant male to seize control and smash his mouth against hers. Instead Brian delicately plucked at her lips and slid his tongue lightly over them. But his arms around her back were strong, supporting her and making her feel ridiculously safe. It was crazy. She didn’t know this man at all, but she knew him on some primal level—an instant recognition of her master.

  One hand slid up her back, the other cupped her ass, and his kiss deepened. Sabrina gripped his shoulders and held on, arching her neck and tilting her face so their mouths might fuse more fully. Their tongues swirled around one another, mingling sharp beer and sweet wine. As her belly tightened, her pussy opened, aching to be filled. It had been a long time since Sabrina had even kissed a man, let alone had sex. Her vibrator was serviceable, much less trouble than any kind of relationship, but oh God, how she’d missed this.

  Lunch was a distant memory and the glass of wine settled like liquid heat in her empty stomach, making her head whirl. Brian kissed her breathless and for a moment she thought she might black out. Sabrina pulled away with a gasp and clung to him.

  He petted her, smoothing her hair and freeing it from the barrette that held it in a twist. “You look better with it down. Keep it this way,” he ordered as he combed it out with his fingers.

  Sabrina felt she ought to protest his domineering tone. She’d certainly never put up with it from a man in her work life, but this was different. She was different with him. With every new order he gave her in that low, even voice, she felt a layer of her reserve strip away. She wanted to obey him and she wanted him to tell her what to do.

  Brian led her away from the exit door, deeper into the shadows. The wood siding snagged at her dress as he lifted her up and pinned her against the side of the building. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her skirt riding high and cool air tickling her bare thighs. In contrast, his hand was fire trailing up her leg before gripping her rear.