by Marie Force
I press a button on the wall so we can hear him moan. His every muscle is tight and tense as he tries to anticipate what she will do.
With a flip of her wrist, she flicks the crop against his balls.
He screams.
She does it again and again and again as he shrieks. “Don’t you dare come. Do you hear me?”
“Y-yes, Mistress,” he sobs.
Evie watches the scene, her fingers white from gripping the molding that frames the window.
“Do you like what you see?” I ask her.
She licks her lips. “Yes, Sir.”
That word, so fraught with meaning in our community, has me moving closer to her, slipping an arm around her waist to bring her in tight against me.
She leans into me, and we stand like that to watch the scene progress to her sucking his cock while he begs for permission to come.
“Do you like to be bound?” I ask Evie.
“Under the right circumstances.”
“Such as?”
“I have to trust my Dom completely. Trust has been an issue for me in the past.”
I could easily win her trust and show her how it should be. I could take her to a private room and negotiate an agreement that would leave us both drunk with pleasure. With her leaning into me and expressing tacit interest, all I have to do is suggest it to make it happen. I’m about to say the words when an image of Aileen pops into my head. My arm drops from Evie’s waist.
She looks up at me, her brows furrowed with confusion.
Sebastian comes into the room. “Ah, there you are,” he says to Evie. “I wondered where you’d escaped to.”
She blushes at the sight of Sebastian. He’s a big, strapping, muscular dude with dark hair and eyes, sleeve tattoos, pierced ears, scars he doesn’t talk about and a ten-inch cock that keeps him in hot demand with the female members of the club. He could have any woman he wants, but he’s choosy. I’ve known him to go months without a woman. He told me once he’d rather wait for someone who does it for him than settle for someone who doesn’t. I admire his restraint. I’ve been much less choosy in my dealings with women.
“Kristian was kind enough to offer to show me around since you were busy at the bar.”
“I’ll take it from here,” Sebastian says to me.
I note the hungry, needy way he looks at Evie and take a step back. “It was nice to meet you, Evie.”
“You, too.”
I leave the room feeling shaken once again by the realization that Aileen has so totally taken over my body and soul that the thought of touching another woman intimately makes me feel sick. I haven’t been able to bring myself to be with anyone else since the day I met her. I’ve never gone this long without sex. Turning down a willing sub is highly out of character for me and further proof that I’ve lost what’s left of my mind.
I return to the bar, order another drink from the backup bartender covering for Sebastian and down half of it in one big gulp. About two seconds later, I remember I never did eat anything, which is why I’m more than a little drunk after one and a half drinks. “Can you order me a salad with grilled chicken?” I ask the bartender.
“Of course. I’ll put it right in.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Marlowe coming toward me.
She slides onto the stool next to me and orders a glass of chardonnay. “There you are. You had us worried earlier.”
“Sorry about that.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Everything.
“Don’t give me that shit, Kristian. I can tell just by looking at you that something’s wrong. And where the hell were you today?”
“I was… I…”
Her hand lands on my arm. “Talk to me, Kris,” she says gently. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I take another swallow of my drink, seeking the courage to say it out loud. “Aileen.”
“What about her?”
I glance at my friend and partner, someone who has been there for me any time I needed support, encouragement, friendship. As much as I love her and know that she loves me, I can’t say the words.
So naturally, she says it for me. “Aw, damn. You’re in love with her.”
“What? No, I’m not in love with her.” Really? My own conscience calls bullshit. I want to tell my conscience to shut the fuck up and stay out of it.
“Would you even know love if you felt it?”
Marlowe is one of very few people who knows a little about how I grew up. No one knows the full story, and if I have my way, no one ever will. What does it matter to who I am now? Her question about love strikes at the heart of all my insecurities where Aileen is concerned. She’s hit the nail squarely on the head. How would I know what true love feels like?
“This,” I say gesturing to the club and all it entails, “is my life, my home. Can you see her here?”
“Not really, but I never expected to see Natalie or Addie or Ellie here either.” Our partners’ significant others have taken on our lifestyle after being introduced to it by the men they love.
“That doesn’t mean Aileen will be like them. She’s a mom and a cancer survivor. How does one go about sexually dominating a woman like her?” I take another deep gulp of my drink because thinking about sexually dominating her is all it takes to make me hard as concrete. Motherfucker.
“You’re getting too far ahead of yourself. You haven’t even talked to her about anything that truly matters. Perhaps she’ll surprise you the same way Natalie surprised Flynn and Addie surprised Hayden and Ellie surprised Jasper. Maybe it’ll all be fine.”
“It’s different with her.”
“I understand.”
I raise a brow in her direction. Marlowe is notorious for her avoidance of anything that smacks of romance or commitment. “Do you?”
“I’ve been in love before. I know how it feels and how difficult it can be to reconcile the emotion with the lifestyle.”
“I’m not in love with her.” I’m such a fucking liar.
“So you said, but something has you tied up in knots where she’s concerned. Is that why you stayed away today?”
I shrug. I don’t want to talk about why I stayed away. Everything about Aileen makes me feel raw and unprotected, the same way I felt after I witnessed my mother’s murder. I hate that feeling, and part of me is angry with Aileen for resurrecting emotions I’d sooner live without than revisit.
I signal the bartender for another drink. We have a two-drink limit for members, but I’m not a member. I’m a fucking owner, and I’ll have a third one if I want it.
The bartender delivers my drink, and I down half of it in one swallow. Across the bar, I make eye contact with a redhead, who raises her glass to me. Under normal circumstances, that’s all it would take to start the ball rolling. I could be engrossed in a scene with her within thirty minutes if I so desire, but I don’t desire her. I desire someone else, and the craving need I have for her is making me insane.
“I’m worried about you, Kris,” Marlowe says softly. “I don’t like seeing you this way.”
“I don’t like feeling this way. Why do you think I stayed home today?”
“Avoiding it won’t make it go away,” she says softly.
“Won’t it?” I’m the king of avoidance when it suits my purposes.
She shakes her head. “If she’s in your heart, you’ll take her with you everywhere you go, no matter how far you run.”
The truth of Marlowe’s statement hits me like a rock to the head. I’m so totally fucked, it’s not even funny.
Chapter 4
The kids are up at four thirty in the morning, which is seven thirty New York time. How long will it take them to adjust to West Coast time, and will I survive waking up this early? Those are the burning questions on my mind as I drag myself out of bed to make coffee.
“What time can we go to the beach?” Maddie asks.
“We hafta wait till the sun comes up, dumbhead,” Logan replies.
They’re seated at the kitchen table eating cereal and drinking apple juice, like they do every day, only nothing about this day is routine. It’s the first day of our new life, and even though it started way too early, I’m still excited. “Logan, don’t call your sister names. She asked a perfectly reasonable question.”
“Sorry,” Logan mutters.
“So what time can we go?” Maddie asks, her golden eyes big with wonder and curiosity and excitement. I love seeing her so happy. My kids had to grow up far too fast, plagued with worries about me and what would become of them if anything ever happens to me. Which reminds me I need to talk to Natalie about whether she and Flynn would take them if the worst should happen.
The thought of that conversation takes my breath away. I don’t need to think about that today, but I do need to do something about it soon. My friends love my kids and would do anything for them, but it’s an awful lot to ask of anyone.
“How about nine?” I say.
“How many hours is that?”
“Four,” Logan says.
“That’s a long time,” Maddie says, sounding whiny.
“You guys woke up really early, so we have to kill some time until the rest of the world wakes up, too.”
“What does that mean? ‘Kill time’?”
“It means find other stuff to do until it’s time to go to the beach,” Logan says.
“Exactly.” I smile at my son, who is too smart for his own good—and mine. The first conversation I ever had with Natalie was about how bright he is. She saw it from the beginning and nurtured him during the months she was his teacher. “We can do some unpacking before we get ready for the beach.”
That’s met with groans and protests.
“No beach until everyone unpacks at least one box. And, we’ve been invited to swim at Natalie’s house and for Marlowe’s birthday party, but we’re not going unless everyone has a thirty-minute rest after the beach.” Especially me.
“I don’t wanna unpack,” Maddie says.
“It’s one box,” Logan replies. “Don’t be a baby. The sooner we get it done, the sooner we can go to the beach.”
“Will you help me with mine?” she asks him.
“Only if you help with mine.”
“Let’s go. This is gonna be the best day ever. The beach and a pool!”
They scamper off, leaving their bowls on the table. Usually I’d call them back to do their own dishes, but I don’t want to get in the way of progress. Still smiling at their excitement, I clear their bowls and put them into the dishwasher and then take my coffee outside, where the first streaks of color crisscross the sky. Everything is covered in a thin layer of dew, and when I take a deep breath, I swear I can smell the beach.
That scent takes me back to my childhood summers on the Jersey Shore, to a time when everything seemed possible and life hadn’t disappointed me yet. I met the kids’ father there the summer after I graduated from college. I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but the scent of the beach resurrects powerful memories.
“Mom, Maddie’s not helping.” Logan’s voice interrupts my thoughts, which is just as well. I have too many good things happening in my life to bother revisiting the hard times. I head inside to supervise the unpacking, which keeps us busy for a couple of hours. We have much more space here than we had in our New York apartment, but it’s still a challenge to find a place for everything. I reach my limit around the same time they do. “Who’s ready to check out the beach?”
“Me!” they say in stereo.
While they change into bathing suits, I pack a lunch for us, making sandwiches from the turkey and rolls I find in the fridge. Nat thought of everything, even juice boxes and cookies for the kids. I dig towels out of a box, sand toys from yet another box, and retrieve sunscreen from my suitcase. “Give me one minute to change, and then we can go.”
It takes all of five minutes to walk from our house to the beach. We’re even closer than I thought, a fact that delights me as much as the kids.
“It’s so close!” Logan says with a shriek as he runs ahead of me onto the sand, his little sister in hot pursuit.
I speed up so I won’t lose track of them, calling out for them to wait for me.
They stop, let me catch up and walk with me to the water’s edge. “Sunscreen first.”
“Aw, Mom, come on,” Logan says. “I want to swim.”
“Sunscreen first.”
We swim, we build a sandcastle, we eat lunch and then swim again. On the way home, we stop at the playground, where the kids run around with other kids for half an hour before I signal that it’s time to go. At home, we use the outdoor shower to rinse off the sand. Both kids are yawning by the time we’re back inside, and it doesn’t take much convincing to get them to lie down for a short time.
They gave up napping years ago, but the time difference has their internal clocks out of whack. I can’t take two ragged kids to Nat’s or they’ll be melting down by dinnertime, so I hope they’ll sleep for a little while. I choke back a yawn as I unpack the beach bag and hang the towels outside to dry. Being here feels like being on vacation, only this is our home now. We can walk to the beach!
I go into my room to take a shower, and have I mentioned how much I love having my own bathroom? It’s the third best thing about this house, after the proximity to the beach and the yard. Sharing a bathroom with two little kids is no fun, and it’s a delight to step into the shower without first having to rid the tub of bath toys. I shower off the sand and sunscreen and wash my hair. If there’s anything good about my hair being short and wild, it’s that I don’t have to spend lots of time tending to it. Nothing I do to it matters, so I let it have its way.
Wrapped up in a light robe, I stretch out on my bed and close my eyes, intending to take a quick twenty-minute nap.
The next time I open my eyes, it’s after four o’clock and my cell phone is ringing with a call from Natalie. I can’t believe the kids slept for two hours! That hasn’t happened during the day in years.
“Hey,” I say to Nat. “I’m so sorry. We were up at four thirty and crashed at two. If the invite still stands, we’ll be over soon.”
“Of course it still stands. We’re here, and everyone else is coming for dinner around six. Come whenever you want.”
“I might let the kids sleep for a little while longer so they don’t melt down later.”
“I can’t believe they were up at four thirty!”
“That’s seven thirty in New York, which is late for them. What can I bring?”
“Absolutely nothing. I have everything, and Marlowe insisted on no gifts.”
“All right, then. I’ll see you soon.”
“You have our address, right?”
“I do.”
“Just punch it into the GPS, and call me if you have any trouble finding it.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Just remember, the later it gets, the worse the traffic will be.”
“I haven’t driven in so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be stuck in traffic.”
“You’re about to get an unpleasant refresher course. If there’s one thing we have plenty of in LA, it’s traffic. See you soon!”
I iron a cute dress and apply enough makeup to complement the healthy glow from the sun without appearing to have tried too hard, which is a fine line. I manage to cover the dark circles without looking like I’m overly made up. My heart beats fast and steady at the thought of seeing Kristian.
“Please let him be there,” I whisper to my reflection in the mirror—as if she can somehow make it happen. “Please. I just want to see him. That’ll be enough for now.”
I smooth on scented lotion that makes my skin soft and shimmery and top off my look with lip gloss that makes me feel young and fresh and healthy. I’m none of those things, but you’d never know it to look at me. Satisfied with my appearance, I wake the kids and pack yet another bag with swimsuits and towels. Good thing I bought them severa
l new suits before we left New York.
Armed with snacks and juice boxes and in good moods after their rest, the kids lead the way to the car.
“Mom,” Logan says. “Check it out. There’s a booster seat for Maddie already in the car.”
I realize I hadn’t even thought of that since it’s been so long since we needed them living in the city. “Someone thought of everything.”
“Probably Natalie,” he says. “She’s super nice that way.”
I’d planned for the kids to call everyone Miss and Mister, but that was swiftly vetoed by our new friends who insisted the kids call them by their first names. Oh well, I tried, and as a single mom, I’ve learned to choose my battles. This is one I can’t win with everyone else working against me.
The car is incredible! Sleek and gorgeous, I can’t believe it’s mine. However, the GPS is complicated, and it takes me a minute to enter Nat’s address into my phone. I pull out of the driveway and drive like an old lady until I get a feel for the car.
“It’s so fun here, Mommy,” Maddie says. “We can go to the beach any time we want, and the playground and Natalie’s house.”
“Yes, baby, we can. It’s going to be a lot of fun. But we have to work hard, too.”
“Not in the summer we don’t.”
“You still have to do your summer worksheets, and Logan has to read.”
“That’s what July is for,” Logan declares.
We talk about what we see on our way to Natalie and Flynn’s home in the Hollywood Hills—fancy cars and palm trees and art deco buildings and signs. They’re interested in everything about our new home, and their interest fuels mine. We pass a dance studio not far from our house that I make note of for the fall. Maddie took dance in New York, and I want her to be able to continue here. I want to try to get them both into a few activities this summer so they’ll meet some new friends before school starts. I need to find a new pediatrician and dentist for them, register them for school and finalize the plans for their summer camps.
My to-do list is long, but like Logan said, I don’t have to worry about any of that today.
I make a couple of wrong turns in the Hills and discover that when the GPS says, “Turn,” it means right now. I pull up to the gate outside Natalie and Flynn’s home around five thirty and press the button on the security panel.
