Monday afternoon, Amy eased her ass into her office chair and winced.  Fuck, but did her ass hurt.  Actually, she decided, it was more her upper thighs that hurt.  They had started to bruise already, stripes of dark purple in the perfect width of the ruler.  She had studied them in the mirror this morning, feeling pride and a weird kind of fulfillment.

She wasn’t the only one.  Mark had joined her and stared at the marks on her ass and backs of her thighs.  He hadn’t even tried to hide the look of satisfaction on his face as he touched the marks with his fingertips.  He had smoothed more lotion into them for her after she showered, and she had hissed her way through the pain.  He offered no apology for the bruises and once more, she was oddly content that he didn’t.

Of course, that had been this morning before a two-hour sit-down meeting with her design team.  Now, she was in desperate need of some Advil and maybe a bag of frozen peas to sit on. 

She climbed to her feet with a light groan and left her office.  She’d grab a coffee from the kitchen and see if there was any Advil in the cupboard.  As she walked down the hall toward reception, she heard Brenda’s voice rise in alarm.

“Sir!  Sir, I told you he isn’t here.  If you don’t leave, I’m going to call security.”

Amy hurried forward.  She groaned when she saw Michael, even dirtier and smellier than he was on Saturday, standing by the desk in reception.

“I don’t care!  I know he’s here and I’m not leaving until I see him.”

“Michael?”

He turned and stared at her.  His pupils were blown out and he was ticking nervously.  “Amy!  Hey!  How the fuck are you?”

“Michael, hush,” Amy said.

“I’m glad to see you.  Hey, thanks for your help on Saturday.”

“You’re welcome.  You should go though.”

He scowled at her.  “I need to see Mark.”

“He’s not here,” Brenda said.  “I told you that.”  She glanced at Amy.  “Mark and Luke are at a meeting.”

“Okay,” Amy said.  “Why don’t you -”

“You need to leave!”  Brenda said shrilly when Michael leaned against her desk.

“I ain’t fucking leaving,” Michael said.  “You’re gonna have to drag me out of here before -”

“Michael, stop!”  Amy said.  “Come to my office, okay?”

“Amy -”

“It’s fine, Brenda.”

“Yeah, Brenda, it’s fine,” Michael said.  “We’re friends.”

“Can you call Mark on his cell phone and ask him to come back to the office right now, please, Brenda?”  Amy said as she led Michael toward her office.  She needed to get him out of sight before he made a bigger scene.  Already people were poking their heads out of their office, drawn by the sound of his shouting, and she cringed at the thought of Mark being humiliated by the actions of his brother.

“Hurry, Michael,” she said.

“I’m comin’,” he puffed behind her.

He followed her into her office and she shut the door.  “Michael, I -”

“Oh, hey, pretty lady!”

Jane was sitting in one of the beanbag chairs and she jumped to her feet.  “Um, hi.  Amy, I’m sorry, I stopped in because I had a file for you.  I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You haven’t,” Amy said.  “Michael is just here to see Mark.”

“He’s not in the office.  He and Luke are at a meeting,” Jane said.  She eyed Michael when he wandered over to the mannequin and touched the fabric draped across it with one grimy finger.

“I know.  Brenda’s calling him right now,” Amy said.  “You should go, Jane.”

She gave her a bright false smile and Jane shook her head.  “No, I don’t think I should.”

“It’s fine.  Mark will be here any moment.”

“I’ll wait,” Jane said.

“This is a real nice office you got here,” Michael said.  He stared out the window before grinning at her.  “You always did real well, didn’t you, Amy?”

“Why don’t you sit down, Michael?  Jane and I will go to the kitchen and get you a coffee, okay?”  Amy said.

“Nah, I don’t need one.  Actually, I stopped by because I was hoping to see you again.  Wondered if I could borrow a few more bucks.”

She shook her head.  “No, I’m sorry.  I told you on Saturday that I wouldn’t give you money again.”

A scowl crossed his face and Amy took Jane’s hand when he stalked toward them.  “That ain’t fair, Amy.  You got more money than you know what to do with.”

“I don’t have any to give you,” she said.  “You took all of it on Saturday.”

“Bitch,” he snarled at her.  “Why you gotta be such a fucking selfish bitch, Amy?”

She swallowed down the fear that was rising in her throat.  “You need to leave now, Michael.”

“I don’t have to do anything you tell me,” Michael said.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switch knife.  He clicked the button and the blade popped free, shiny and terrifyingly sharp.

Bitter, cold fear blossomed like a malignant flower in her belly.

“Michael, put that away.  What do you think Mark will say if he sees you threatening me with a knife?”

“I don’t fucking care what that little bastard says or does no more.  He leaves me to starve on the street like a dog.  He knows I need my medicine, but he won’t give me the money for it.”  Michael’s face twisted and he scratched at the sores before pointing the knife at her.  “He’s as selfish as you are, bitch.”

Jane’s hand was cold and clammy in her own.  Amy retreated backwards toward the door, tugging the smaller woman with her.

“Stop moving!”  Michael shouted.

She stopped, the malignant flower growing into her chest.  “Michael, I can’t give you money that I don’t have.  I gave it all to you on Saturday.  There’s nothing in my wallet.  I can go to a bank machine though.  Why don’t you wait here, and we’ll run to the bank machine and bring you - ”

“You must think I’m a real fucking idiot,” Michael said. 

“I don’t.”

“You do.”  He eyed the bracelets around her wrists.  “Give me your jewelry.”

“Michael - ”

“Give it to me!”  He waved the knife at her and she held up her hands.

“Okay.”  She slipped the bracelets off her arms and placed them in his shaking palm.  He stuffed them in the pocket of his jacket.  He studied Jane and said, “Give me your ring and that necklace.”

Her fingers trembling, Jane handed them over.  He added them to his pocket and stared at Amy again.  “I want your necklace too.”

“I can’t give it to you.”

“Yes, you fucking can!”

“No,” she said.  “It’s locked with a key and I don’t have the key.  See?”

She tried to turn the heart pendant over to show him the closure and cringed back when he raised his knife.

“Give me the fucking necklace, Amy, or I’ll cut your pretty little fingers off.  You think you can draw all your pictures without your fingers?  Huh?”

“I don’t have the key,” she repeated.  “I swear.  It’s locked, and I can’t open it.”

“Fuck that!”  Michael said.  “Stop lying to me, you stupid bitch!”

“She’s not lying, Michael.”

Mark’s low, calm voice spoke behind her and relief poured through her in a big swooping rush that stole her breath.

“Hey, little brother.”  Michael’s grin was cold and humourless.

When Jane was tugged away from her, Amy turned to see her brother pushing Jane behind him.  His face pale, he reached for her next.

“Don’t you fucking touch her, Luke,” Michael said.

He held his hands up.  “Michael, put the knife down.”

“Fuck you, Luke.  You know I always hated you.  You smug fucking bastard.  You took my brother from me!”

“Calm down, Michael.”  Mark moved beside her but when he tried to plant his big body between hers and his brother’s, Michael shook his head again.

“Don’t do that, asshole.”

“I have money for you,” Mark said.  He reached for his wallet. “I’ll give you what I have and then you can - ”

“I want that fucking necklace!”  Michael said shrilly.

“It needs a key to open it,” Mark said.  “The key is in my pocket.”

“Then fucking get it!”  Michael waved the knife at him.

Mark reached into his pocket and produced the small silver key.  Amy turned toward Mark and lifted her chin.

He smiled at her and stroked the soft skin of her throat.  “It’ll be okay, Ames.”

His hands remarkably steady, he unlocked the necklace from around her throat and pulled it free.  He turned and faced his brother, taking a few steps forward as Michael backed up.

“Give it to me!”

Mark held the necklace out.  Michael stared at him mistrustfully and reached for the necklace.  Before he could grab it, Mark dropped it.  It hit the floor with a soft clunk and Michael made a scream of rage.

“I fucking hate you, you spoiled little brat!”

He rushed forward and raised the knife, bringing it down in a deadly short arc.  Mark blocked his brother’s arm with his forearm before punching him hard in the stomach.

Michael dropped the knife and bent over, gagging and coughing.  Without speaking, Mark pulled him into a standing position and punched him in the face.  Blood flew from his mouth, landing on the beanbag chair with a wet splat as Michael stumbled back.  His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Luke cupped Jane’s face.  “Call 9-1-1 and go to my office and lock the door.  Now.”

“Amy, go with her,” Mark said.

“Mark - ”

“Go, Amy.” 

She turned and took Jane’s hand as Mark crouched beside his brother.  Jane pulled her out of the office.  She got one last glimpse of Mark’s pale face as he placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

 

* * *

 

She was pacing in the kitchen when she heard the key in the lock.  Luke had almost begged her to stay with him and Jane, but she had refused, knowing Mark would come to her.

He appeared in her kitchen, looking so exhausted and miserable that her heart broke for him.  She wanted to rush to him and hug her, but the wall was up.  She could see it in his eyes.

“How is he?”  She asked.

“He’s fine.  In jail.  He’ll be there for – he has a lot of outstanding warrants.  The officer said that I shouldn’t expect him to get out of prison any time soon in the next five years.”

He barked harsh laughter before yanking on his earlobe.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said.

“I’m not.”  His tone was cold.  “He tried to hurt you.  He can rot in prison for all I care.”

“Mark - ”

“Why are you wearing that again?”  He pointed to the purple and silver collar around her neck.  “You shouldn’t wear it.  It almost got you killed.”

“It’s not your fault, honey.”

“It is!”  He took a deep breath and shoved his hand into his pocket, withdrawing the key.  “Here, take this.”

“No,” she said.

“Take it!”  He almost begged.

“I won’t.”

He gave her a look of frustration and dropped the key on the table.  “I need to go.  I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Don’t leave me,” she said.

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

He stared at her before his face crumpled and he turned around.  She ran forward and forced him back around before throwing her arms around him.  He stood rigid and unyielding against her.

“Honey,” she whispered, “don’t push me away. Not tonight.”

He threw his arms around her waist and buried his face in her throat.  “I’m sorry, baby.  I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s not your fault.”  She tugged his head back and pressed a kiss against his mouth.  “I’m fine.  It’s not your fault.”

“When I saw him with the knife and standing in front of you.  When I thought…”

His voice broke and he kissed her hard on the mouth.  “I need you, Ames.

She took his hand and led him upstairs to her bedroom.  They undressed each other.  He laid her down in the middle of her bed before stretching out between her thighs.  He kissed her curls, her inner thighs and each of her hipbones before burying his mouth in her pussy.  She moaned and clutched at his head, ignoring the throb of pain in her ass and back of her thighs as he used his lips and tongue and fingers to bring her to a pulse-pounding climax.  When she was weak and shuddering, he slid up her body.  She wrapped her thighs around his lean hips and reached between them to grasp his cock.

“Please, Sir.”

He shook his head and kissed her on the mouth.  “Not tonight, baby.  Call me Mark.”

She stared at him and he kissed her again, teasing her mouth open with gentle licks.  He sucked on her bottom lip and then her tongue.

When he released her, she smoothed her fingers across his jaw.  “Please, Mark.”

He reached down and guided his cock into her pussy.  She moaned and squeezed his waist with her legs as he dropped to his forearms.  His hard chest pressed against her breasts and he rested his forehead against hers for a moment before lifting his head.

“I love you, Amy.”

She touched his face and blinked back tears.  “I love you too.”

He moved with long slow strokes.  She met each of them with a gentle rise of her hips.  They kissed repeatedly and when his strokes turned harder and more urgent, she gripped his waist and urged him on with soft cries.

Their hips slapped together in a quickening rhythm, his pelvic bone grinding against her clit with every stroke.  She moaned, pleaded, cried his name.

“I love you,” he gasped out as his back arched.

They climaxed together, holding onto each other as the pleasure consumed them both.  When he slipped out of her, she clung to him and kissed his warm mouth.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.”  He lay on his back and she curled on her side, easing some of the pressure on her butt and thighs.  She rested her head on his chest as he stroked her back with his warm hands.

“So,” she finally said, “you have to admit that vanilla sex isn’t all that bad.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead.  “Vanilla sex with you is incredible.”

“I know,” she said.  “I’m, like, so good at sex.”

His laughter rumbled out of his chest and she planted a kiss on his collarbone.  “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“So, when do we tell my parents and my brother?”

She tensed, waiting for him to tell her nothing had changed.  To tell her that he loved her but that he couldn’t be with her.

“How about Sunday during family dinner?”

Her muscles relaxed, and she kissed his chest again.  “Yeah.  That should liven it up, right?”

“I’ll make sure to sit near the door so when your father and brother try to beat the hell out of me, I can make a quick exit.”

“God, you’re so manly.  It’s really hot thinking about you running down the street with my father and brother chasing after you.”

He laughed and hugged her.  “Don’t joke about it, it’ll probably happen.”

She lifted her head and studied his face.  “It won’t, honey.  They’ll be happy for us.  I know they will.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“Why have you changed your mind about telling them?”  She asked.

“Because I love you and I will always love you.  I won’t lose your family because I’ll never lose you.  You’re stuck with me for life, Amy Dawson.”

“Most romantic marriage proposal ever,” she said.

He grinned.  “You want to marry me?”

“Of course I do,” she said.  “Maybe not tomorrow, but I’m free next Thursday.”

“I’ll clear my calendar.”

She kissed him before resting her chin on his chest.  “We may not have until Sunday to tell my brother.  He’s going to ask about the necklace.  Probably tomorrow.”

“Probably.”

“I won’t tell him about the master/slave thing but I – I won’t lie about loving you.”

“I don’t want you to,” he said.  “If he asks you about it tomorrow, just call me.  I’ll come to your office and we’ll tell him together.”

“Okay,” she said.  “I love you, Mark.”

“I love you too, Ames.  You wanna try another round of vanilla sex?”

She laughed and nuzzled his collarbone.  “You read my mind, Mr. Stanford.”

 

* * *

 

“Amy, this skirt is just not working.”  Rachel, a bright orange swatch of fabric draped over her arm, walked into her office. “I’ve pinned the hell out of it and it still doesn’t fit right.  I need a human mannequin and Jenna’s gone for lunch.  Drop your pants, lady.”

Amy laughed and kicked off her shoes before unbuttoning her pants.  “Sure.  Shut the door, would you?”

Rachel shut the door to her office and returned as Amy pushed her pants down her legs.  She crouched and said, “Turn around for me.  The skirt’s got a million pins in the back and I’m going to try and not poke you but no promises…oh my God, Amy, your thighs!”

Amy’s eyes widened.  She was wearing boy shorts and they hid the bruising on her ass but the stripes of bruises on the back of her thighs were exposed.  Rachel touched the back of one thigh.  “These bruises look like they were made on purpose.  Like they’re - ”

“Hey, Ames?”  Luke opened her door without knocking and strolled into the room.  “You want to have lunch and – what the hell?  Are those bruises?”

He stared at her legs and Amy whirled around and snatched the fabric from Rachel, holding it in front of her body.  “Luke!  Out!”

“Are those bruises?”  He repeated.  “What the fuck, Amy?  Where did you - ”

“Luke, get out!”

He turned and strode jerkily to the door.  “Come and see me in my office, Amy.  Immediately.”

He slammed the door behind him and Rachel gave Amy a wide-look of anxiety.  “Amy?  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said.  “Go take a lunch break, I’ll come and see you later.  Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

She took the fabric from Amy and left.  Amy yanked her pants on and took a few deep breaths before walking to Luke’s office.  She passed Mark’s office and hesitated.  It was empty, and she bit her lip in thought.  She wasn’t going in there to tell Luke about her and Mark.  She wouldn’t text him and tell him to meet her in Luke’s office.  If Luke even suspected that Mark had left those bruises…

She shuddered and gripped her elbows before continuing to Luke’s office.  She knocked on the doors, opened them and stepped inside.  Luke was pacing behind his desk like an angry bull and he glared at her.  “What the fuck are those bruises from, Amy?”

“Calm down, Luke.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down.  My baby sister has bruises all over her legs and don’t you dare tell me that you fell down.  They’re stripes of bruising, Ames.  They’re actual goddamn stripes like someone took a – a cane to you or… who are you dating?  Who’s the goddamn asshole who is abusing you?”

Shit.  He was way too perceptive for his own good.

She pressed her lips together and tried to think of how to word it.  “It’s not abuse, Luke.  Okay?  I – I wanted it to happen and I -”

“Fucking hell, it’s those goddamn French dickheads, isn’t it?”  Luke’s hands clenched into fists.  “I will fucking kill those bastards.  Jesus Christ, Amy!”

“It wasn’t them,” Amy said.  “Luke, it wasn’t Pierre and Julien.”

“Bullshit, it wasn’t!  You had dinner with them Friday night!  Did you let them hurt you just so you could get a goddamn casual line?”

“What?  You asshole!”  Amy shouted.  “No, I didn’t fucking let them hurt me just to get a casual line!  You arrogant dickhead!  They’re investing in my casual line because they see my potential.”

“Amy,” Luke gave her a sick look before running both hands through his hair, “this is abuse, Ames.  Okay?  I am fucking shredding the contract.  We don’t need them to invest in an international line, and you don’t have to let them do this to you just to get -”

“I didn’t!  Goddammit, Luke!  I didn’t whore myself out to them!  Julien and Pierre didn’t do this to me!”

“Then who?”  He shouted.  He came around the desk and took her by the arms.  “Who the fuck hurt you, Amy?  Tell me who did this before I -”

“It was me.”

She whirled around and stared at Mark.  His cheeks were red from the cold and he was wearing his coat.  He shut the doors to Luke’s office before standing next to her and taking her hand.  “I made those marks on your sister, Luke.”

“What?”  Luke staggered back.  “You – no, what?”

“I love her,” Mark said.  “I love her and I -”

“You hurt her?”  Luke said.

“I love her,” Mark said.  “There’s something you need to know about me.  I’m a Dom and I own a club called Secrets.  I’ve been a dominant for -”

“You son of a bitch!” 

Amy screamed when Luke grabbed Mark and tore him away from her.  He punched him in the face and shoved him back against the wall before punching him in the stomach.  “You fucking son of a bitch!  She’s your fucking sister, you sick motherfucker!”

He punched Mark in the face again.  Mark made no effort to fight back or defend himself and Amy ran forward and grabbed Luke’s arm when he tried to punch Mark again.

“Stop it!”  She shouted.  “Stop it, Luke!  I love him, and I asked him to do it!”

He blinked at her before stumbling away from her.  “Amy?”  He whispered.  “He-he’s your brother.”

“No,” she said.  “He isn’t.  You’re my brother, Luke.  Mark is your best friend and I’m in love with him.  I have been since I was nineteen years old.”

“You can’t possibly be okay with what he’s doing to you,” Luke said.

“I am.  I want him to do it.”

Luke’s face paled.  She didn’t try and stop him when he stalked to the doors of his office and yanked them open.  He left, slamming the doors behind him.  She turned and hurried back to Mark.

“Oh, honey,” she said.  A bruise was already rising on one cheekbone, and blood was trickling from his left nostril.  “We need to get you to the hospital.”

“No,” he said.  “I’m okay.”

“Your nose might be broken.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault,” he said.  “It’s mine.  I knew this would happen.  We can’t be together, Amy.  Not after this.  Not after -”

“Don’t,” she said.  She pressed a tissue against his nose and cupped his face with her other hand.  “This is not going to tear us apart.  Do you hear me, Mark Stanford?  I love you.  You love me.  In it for life, remember?”

“For life,” he said in a low voice.

“That’s right.  Luke will come around, I promise you.”

“He won’t,” Mark said.  “He thinks I’m sick and when he tells your parents -”

“He’s not going to tell my parents.  If he does, I’ll kick his ass.  We’ll give him a day or two to cool down and then we’ll talk to him again.  We’ll make him understand.”

She pressed a kiss against his mouth.  “You’re not sick, honey.”

“You’re not either,” he said.  “You know that right?”

“Yes.  I know, and I have you to thank for it,” she said.  “It’ll be okay, Mark.  I promise you.”

“I love you, Ames.”

“I love you too.”