Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire

by Aleatha Romig

  “This new order. Did you talk to them when they called?”

  She nodded. Mesmerized by the shade of green reflected in his gaze. In his case, eyes weren’t windows to the soul. They were the microscope that saw into her thoughts. As if somehow he’d noticed her spying on him, or that the moment he said her name, renewed arousal dampened her panties, and he damned well knew it.

  “Did they say who this was for?”

  “No, but I did get the impression it was for someone pretty important. The woman was quite confident that you’d be willing to fill this order as quickly as they wanted.” She tried not to fidget, but it was impossible to sit still with him looking at her with such intensity.

  “That’s too bad because as intriguing as this shoot would be, I’m going to have to turn this one down.”

  Damn. Even the tight frown of his lips turned her on. She’d give anything to trace the shape of his mouth, to explore every line.

  “Why?”

  “No model that fits the requirements. It’s often hard enough to find a redhead for a hard-core shoot. But a plus-size model? No way.”

  “What about me? I could do it.” Eve clamped her hand over her mouth, shocked she’d blurted the offer out loud. Still, she’d made the offer, and she held her breath waiting for his response.

  His eyes narrowed and he stared into her gaze. Searching for something maybe. Her neck warmed with the humiliation that crept through her.

  “Come here,” he demanded gruffly.

  Worried, she moved from behind the reception desk and stood in front of him. Not squirming while he looked at her from head to toe proved impossible as she shifted from one foot to the other. He went back to staring into her eyes and she found it nerve-racking to hold his gaze. Too scared to keep up the pretense, she shifted her gaze to the floor and the black patent four-inch spike heels she had on. The skirts and blouses she wore every day might shout boring, but her shoes were 100-percent hooker.

  She’d learned to wear clothes that didn’t draw attention to her curves, only her cleavage, and she used her hair and shoes to further distract. Still, standing in front of Chase with the aid of extra height still left her feeling small. The top of her head might reach his chin. She’d guess he stood at least six feet three, if not taller. He simply dwarfed her. And for the first time in her life, she loved being short. It seemed to give him a sense of power over her.

  “No.” The blunt word shocked her. She stood speechless and rooted to her spot while he turned and walked back to his studio. No explanation, no further discussion, just no.

  She fought the tears that threatened to fall as his abrupt rejection filtered through her thoughts. Eve looked at the front door and back at the studio Chase had disappeared into. She’d made the biggest fool of herself with no rock to crawl under.

  She wasn’t good enough for Chase Miller. The first tear splashed on her cheek and she ran for the exit.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Chase sat heavily in his desk chair and scrubbed his face with his hands. Dear God save him. The woman he’d allowed Murphy to hire for reception pushed every single button he possessed. From the first minute he’d laid eyes on her, he wanted her gone. So much so she’d become his obsession. A fact getting harder and harder to hide.

  He thought of her day and night. Startling blue eyes that watched him with unadulterated lust every time he walked in the room. Gorgeous red hair down to her ass and what an ass it was. He itched to bend her over his bench and spank it.

  But it was her skin that mesmerized him. Pale and covered in freckles. Chase wanted to play connect the dots with his tongue and discover if every inch of her was covered by the sexy little spots. His imagination got the best of him when he thought endlessly of striping her ass and legs after he’d tied her up, of course.

  There were various scenarios of predicament bondage he’d dreamed up for her. The kind of scene where the slightest movement became impossible and likely painful. The inner sadist in him smiled. She’d look sexy as hell tied in his ropes with Murphy on one side and him on the other. His cock twitched at the thought.

  The photo shoot had wound him up and Eve’s offer was enough to make him forget her innocence. He’d spotted her submissive needs on day one, but no way in hell did she have the kind of knowledge and experience he needed in a girl. Oh but the temptation unnerved him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the patience to teach her. To guide her through her submission and into the role as his personal submissive.

  The door opened roughly and Murphy strode in. “What the hell happened with Eve?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She just ran out of the office and I could have sworn I saw tears.” He dropped onto the couch across the room and turned that suspicious gaze his way.

  “She volunteered for the latest Smith commission.” Chase picked up the form he’d printed and handed it over to Murphy. A minute later a long, low whistle sounded from his friend.

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah, exactly.” Chase leaned his chair to a near-reclining position and brushed the hair from his face. He was about three weeks past due for a haircut and it wouldn’t stay out of his eyes.

  “Did she have any idea what she was asking for?”

  “Probably not. She’s asked a lot of questions since she arrived and we’ve both been completely honest with the extent of what we do here, but I doubt our little submissive wannabe has any real clue of what she’d be getting herself into.”

  “Not to mention you’ve got the worst hard-on for her.”

  Chase looked sharply at his friend. “Fuck you, man. I’ve seen you staring at her rack every chance you get. You’re lucky she hasn’t called sexual harassment on your ass.”

  “Me? Please. I’m not the one on the verge of biting her head off because you want in her pants so bad you can’t think straight half the time.” Murphy pulled himself from the couch and paced the length of the room. “I say we give her a chance. Show her the contract. If that doesn’t scare her off, then maybe you’re wrong about her.”

  “Easy for you to say. You just fucked your brains out.”

  “You know I can’t resist a woman who begs. And she’d have been happy to service you as well. Jennifer is a sweet little professional subbie.”

  Chase tried to shake the images his camera captured today. A photographer was the ultimate voyeur and while he knew how to maintain control, this long dry spell he’d put himself through had begun to take its toll. It was time to head to the club and begin a new search. Someone there would surely make him stop thinking about a certain bewitching little receptionist who dared him to take her with a guileless look.

  “You can’t resist any subbie. You’re such a fucking horndog.”

  “Yeah, and since when is that a bad thing? You’re either getting uptight in your old age or it’s time for you to examine why this woman is under your skin.”

  Chase hated it when his friend was right. “Was she really crying when she left?” He loved to see a woman in tears, but not from his rejection. He’d rather see her writhing in his restraints, alternating between crying her eyes out and begging him to fuck her. His half-hard dick swelled more.

  “Yeah, I was ready to run after her until you told me the deal. Since I’m not the one who rejected her, I think she needs to hear it from you.”

  Professionally he should stay the hell away from her. Personally he couldn’t let her go. Not without talking to her.

  With any luck, he’d explain what would be required of her and she’d run for the hills. There were reasons he didn’t do hard-core shoots with amateurs. They were strenuous and fraught with high emotional impact. Not everyone could handle it.

  “Chase, stop thinking about it and just talk to her. Not everything in this lifestyle has to fit your rigid standards.”

  “Don’t give me—”

  “Just fucking talk to her.”

  *

  Chase stared at the rundown apartment bu
ilding in front of him and compared it to the address he’d hastily written on his notepad. The fact they matched stunned him. Why the hell did Eve live in a place like this? He pressed the lock button on his car remote and approached the building cautiously. The neighborhood didn’t seem safe, much less the structure she lived in.

  According to the address she provided she lived on the second floor. Chase opened the door and was immediately assaulted by a horrid smell. A mixture of pine cleaner and old. At least someone had given a halfhearted attempt to mask the fact this place threatened to crumble at any moment.

  He gave a sideways glance to the elevator and decided against it. The stairs had to be a better choice. The open-to-the-outside stairwell did improve his opinion marginally as he took two steps at a time. In fact when he reached the landing he could have sworn he’d walked into a different building altogether.

  Eve’s door was the first on the right and he gave it a hard knock. He had half a mind to drag her out of here and find somewhere safe for her to live. Like his condo. The crazy thought formed before he had a chance to stop it. No way. Talk about your bad ideas with a capital fucked-up.

  He heard noises from within the space and waited as patiently as possible for her to open the door.

  “Chase, what do you want?” Her muffled question sounded through the door. Guess the peephole works.

  “I’d like a few minutes of your time.”

  “No.”

  Her quick and abrupt answer brought a smile to his face. Turnabout was certainly fair play with this one. “C’mon, Eve, give me a chance to explain. I am still your employer after all.”

  The only response he got was metal sliding on metal and a few seconds later she yanked the door open a few inches, a safety chain crossing in front of her face.

  “I pretty much figured after I walked out today, my job would be gone.”

  She’d scrubbed her face clean of makeup and she wore a simple spaghetti-strap tank top and yoga-style pants that gently hugged the curves of her hips and legs. Without those insanely sexy shoes she wore every day he noticed how short she really was. Instead of looking like a child, her clean face and simple clothes gave him a sense of sweet vulnerability. Now he wished he’d brought his camera.

  “Is that what you want? To quit?” Chase shouldered the door and moved closer. “Let me come in for a few minutes so we can talk about it.” If she really wanted to leave, then he finally had his way out of the torture he’d suffered. He could simply walk away now and be done with the whole mess. He’d go to the club tonight and find a willing play partner and go from there.

  You don’t want her to go. Chase’s mocking statement haunted him.

  She looked unsure. The slight narrowing of her eyes and the tiny purse of her mouth gave her thoughts away. Patience. He normally had it in spades and he could employ it here. Let her make the decisions for now. Come to him. It couldn’t be any other way. For the shoot or anything else he had to ensure her trust. Nothing could be more important.

  After a few minutes of their showdown, she relented, closing the door and unfastening her security chain. Chase never understood why people put any faith into those silly lightweight mechanisms. It took nothing to push the door and make it break. A woman living alone in a neighborhood like this needed far better security. This may not be New York City but that didn’t mean women weren’t attacked or worse. He added that to his running mental list of things he needed to get done.

  When she opened the door she stood back and motioned with her hand for him to enter. He bit back the satisfied smile as he envisioned this the first win in the many battles of will to come. Murphy was right. He wasn’t about to let her go.

  Stepping into her modest-sized apartment was like walking into a different building. She’d gone to great lengths to mask the rundown place she lived in by decorating her space in a sort of shabby Old World style. The cracks in the walls gave the purple and gold paint treatment character. The vibrant space with pillows everywhere, furniture restyled from cast-offs and more color than the average color wheel could only be described as eye-popping.

  Who the hell was this woman? For the first time since he’d met her, he looked beyond the beauty and luscious curves to realize he knew next to nothing about her.

  “Wow, this is quite a transformation from the rest of your building.” He walked the perimeter of the area, peering into the few doors that led off the main room. Color and style met him everywhere.

  “It’s amazing what you can do with a little imagination and a can of paint or two.” She spoke quietly from near the door as if afraid to come too close to him.

  “You have the eye of an artist. What are you doing working as my receptionist with talent like this?”

  “It’s no big deal. Besides, I don’t have a lot of experience. Do you know how few people in this town are willing to take a chance on someone without it?” She edged to the couch and took a seat in one corner, immediately covering most of her body by hugging a fat purple pillow to her chest.

  “Are you afraid of me, Eve?” He didn’t like the wary look on her face. She seemed skittish.

  “I don’t know how to be with you after this afternoon,” she whispered.

  Chase winced at the obvious damage his gruff behavior had caused. Way to go, dumbass.

  “I didn’t mean for you to take it personally. The requirements attached to that commission are pretty intense. Not something I would normally consider an amateur for.”

  She turned away from him, but not before he noticed the lovely shade of crimson blooming across her face.

  “I wouldn’t have volunteered if I didn’t have an idea of what I was getting into. I’m not stupid.”

  Her insolence gave him dirtier thoughts than it should. He needed to get out of here before he did something stupid, like fuck her. His hard-on grew along with the increasing images that filtered through his mind. The couch she sat on had been created from an old wrought-iron bed frame with knobs and spindles, perfect to tie her to. Hell, the entire apartment was a rigger’s dream. The open ceiling beams alone gave him a myriad of ideas for photographs. He could already imagine her in an old-fashioned corset and leggings with her hair piled on top of her head. Her body shape would make a delicious pinup shoot.

  Bettie Page had nothing on her, and a bondage artist like Murphy would think he’d died and gone to heaven in a place like this. Chase made another mental note to bring his camera the next time he visited.

  First things first. “I don’t think you’re stupid at all. But there are things in the order that could send you running for the hills and Murphy kind of likes having you around as the receptionist.”

  “Murphy likes having me around.” Not a question, but a statement that implied the question. Despite the urges this woman created, he’d come here to offer her a job and in doing so had to remain professional. He reached into his jacket and pulled a small manila folder from the pocket. He laid the folder on the coffee table and pushed it in her direction.

  “The rejection really wasn’t personal. Appearance-wise we couldn’t ask for a more perfect model.” He enjoyed watching her eyes widen in surprise and her mouth open to say something and then close again when she changed her mind. He could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to figure him out. Little did she know he thrived on keeping a submissive off balance.

  “I’m not convinced you truly understand what you offered yourself up for, but I’ve decided to let you read for yourself and then decide.” He held up his hand to stop her response. “No, until you read through this you’re not ready. Even then you may not be. So I’ve outlined the exact client requirements for you and included a copy of the hard-core model contract. If, and only if, you read it thoroughly can you give me an answer. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Her simple answer made his dick swell more. It didn’t matter that her use of Sir probably only came out of respect for an employer. The sound uttered from her lips enflamed a nee
d that had been sizzling for weeks.

  “Tell me about your bondage experience. Have you even been restrained before?” Again she blushed to the roots of her hair, and he sighed in resignation. A complete novice would never work. He should snatch the folder and hightail it out of here. Until he noticed the sheen of tears swimming in her eyes.

  “Once,” she uttered.

  Chase sighed. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him, and the thought of having to drag it out of her did not sound fun. “And?”

  “And I don’t want to talk about it.” She tossed the pillow aside and pulled her legs underneath her chin.

  Alarm bells went off for Chase. Time to say forget it and get the hell out of Dodge. “Just tell me one thing and I’ll let it go for now. Did someone hurt you?”

  The air in the room grew thick and heavy in the few seconds she didn’t answer. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. A huge sigh of relief swept through Chase. Unfortunately stories of women being taken too far or being used badly in the name of BDSM were all too frequent in the community, and the thought of someone taking advantage of this one twisted his gut.

  “I’m not looking to be rescued, Chase. I’m a big girl capable of making my own decisions. But I haven’t been with a man in over two years, and I need this. Please, give me a chance.”

  Chase sat stunned at her revelation. Now he definitely wanted to know more. He had so many questions he didn’t know where to start.

  She picked up the folder. “Do you want me to read this now? Are you going to insist on watching me go through every word?”

  Ooh, the sass. He had just the thing for a mouth like that. Unfortunately he couldn’t go there—yet. “No.” He stood and moved toward the door. “You read through it and decide by morning. Either way, you still have a job at Altered Ego and I’ll expect you at the office at nine a.m. sharp with your cute shoes and a decision.”