“God, Natalie. Jesus.” Lincoln held her so tightly her body became almost one with his. Her heart felt close to bursting.
He’d given her a taste of something more than she’d ever had in her life. She prayed she could have this again.
*
Lincoln wanted to beg her to stay. He needed time to make her understand how extraordinary and unbelievable the moment had been. He’d never felt anything like it, the orgasm deep inside her, as if their flesh were fused, as if no condom separated them and he’d filled her being with his essence.
If it was that way for him, he could only imagine her emotions were ten times greater. More than ten years older than her, he was experienced, jaded with the ways of the world. The things he looked for in a relationship with a woman, they weren’t what normal people wanted. She was young. She needed marriage and babies and the white picket fence in the suburbs. He’d never been a white-picket-fence man. Hell, he wasn’t even a relationship guy in the regular sense of the word. He’d dressed her in schoolgirl clothes so he could debauch her, yet instead of pulling her down, she raised him up to a level he’d never experienced before.
For the first time he actually regretted the kind of man he was. But he also knew exactly what he was, and that wasn’t good enough for her.
So he pulled out, feeling the loss deep inside, and helped her stand. Her skin was soft, her scent sweet. Rolling off the condom, he tossed it in the trash.
He wouldn’t be able to dispose of the lingering emotions as easily.
Yet he could not keep her. He would hurt her in the end. He should never have touched her that day in his office.
Her eyes were a bit glazed, so he tapped her elbow and pointed. “You should change. I laid your clothes in the closet.”
She stared at him, then finally swallowed. “Oh. Yes. Okay. Thank you.”
There was so much more she wanted to say, he was sure, things she wanted to ask. Yet with his words, he’d shut her down.
Then he saw the kid’s come dripping down her leg. Shit. Grabbing a towel from the lower shelf of the wall table, he bent to clean up the mess. She rested her fingers on his head to steady herself. With one hand on her opposite thigh, he wiped, and a need blossomed, to kiss her skin, lick her clean, steep himself in her scent so he would never forget. The desire was so intense, he ached with it. But he’d taken from her all he could and still be able to live with himself.
Anything more would be like making a promise, giving her hope. A woman like her, sweet, ingenuous, unworldly, would have emotions after that cataclysmic coming together. She would harbor expectations and desires that he could never fulfill.
So Lincoln finished cleaning her and tossed the towel beside the trash to pick up later. He couldn’t, however, help slipping his hand beneath the fall of her silky hair. “You okay?”
She nodded, smiled gently, and he was sure she was still a little dazed.
He wanted to kiss her deeply, take her lips one last time, but he allowed himself only a peck on her forehead. Then he swatted her ass. “I folded your skirt so it wouldn’t crease.”
She headed to the closet. Lincoln kicked Van’s foot. “Time to get your ass up.”
Van rolled to his back, kneaded his eyes, opened them. “Man. That was fucking hot.”
“Yeah.” Lincoln’s blood sizzled. There was something about the kid that rubbed him raw. Van had watched the girl he’d hurt have amazing sex with another man, and he was neither jealous nor solicitous. For whatever odd reason, he’d come round at the end, getting into the act, giving Natalie the attention she deserved, yet it wasn’t enough to satisfy Lincoln. The young man had so much to make up for.
“Get dressed.” He had no compunction about ordering Van to put his clothes on. He wanted the guy gone.
Lincoln grabbed his own jeans and shirt, concentrating on putting himself together so that his gaze didn’t wander to her.
Monday would come all too quickly. This was why he had rules about not playing with business associates. It fucked up working relationships. But for the first time, he was the one who didn’t want to let go. He could call Natalie into his office morning, noon, and night, every season of the year.
But that wouldn’t be good for her.
He rose after tying his laces. Looking at him, waiting for something, Natalie slipped into her platform sandals. It was too awkward for words.
Lincoln wasn’t used to fucking up, but he’d sure as hell done it this time. He’d called Van an asswipe, but he had to admit he was so much worse than the kid.
*
Behind her, the door closed, then she heard the snick of the deadbolt. He’d thrown her out. Lincoln had cleaned Van’s come off her leg, sent her off to the corner like a naughty child to dress in the clothes she’d arrived in, then hustled her and Van up the stairs and out. Just like that.
Natalie’s chest was so tight her breath seemed caught in her lungs. She’d barely remembered her purse on the hall table. What had she done wrong?
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
It hurt to even look at Van. He represented part shame, part anger, part hopelessness. She crossed the wooden bridge to the driveway. It felt like walking the plank. Van’s MINI Cooper sat next to her car, and he was right on her tail.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, fishing for her keys in her little bag. The temperature had dropped in the mountains, and her shoulders, bared by the camisole top, chilled her entire body.
He touched her elbow. “When you left me that voice mail, I couldn’t decide whether I was turned on, pissed off, or jealous as hell.”
Natalie squared her shoulders, then turned on him. “You cheated on me because you had needs I couldn’t fulfill. I wasn’t good enough for you.”
He jumped in. “I didn’t mean it like that, Natalie.”
Lips pressed together, she held up a finger, waiting until he closed his mouth. “Maybe you didn’t, but you didn’t trust me to honor who you were. That’s the truth.”
Van bowed his head. “You’re right. I was afraid to tell you.” He slowly raised his eyes to hers. “But when I saw you with him tonight, how you accepted him exactly the way he was, letting me suck his cock without freaking out…”
He raised a hand as if he meant to touch her, but dropped it when she flinched. “First I was pissed as hell at the two of you, Nat, like you’d invited me to visit a club I could never join. Like you were just out to torture me or make me pay.” His honesty was almost brutal. “I couldn’t figure out what was going on between you and it made me crazy. But then I got into you fucking me with the dildo, and the game, it was all really hot and exciting. Until you sucked his cock…” He paused, tipped his head back a moment. “I saw how badly he wanted you. His feelings were written all over his face. There was such power and emotion flowing between the two of you that I wanted to smash something, I was so jealous.”
He’d misread Lincoln’s signals. The flow of emotion was one way only, from her to Lincoln. He desired her, yes, but desire wasn’t a lasting emotion.
“I needed to hurt you, crush you. Then somewhere along the way,” he went on, nodding his head as if confirming his thoughts to himself, “yeah, when you sucked him with me, I realized how stupid I’d been. You would have accepted me the way you accepted him, if I’d only had the courage to tell you.”
She hadn’t thought of it that way. Acceptance. But Van had it backward. “I was the one searching for your acceptance, Van. I wanted to please you, make you desire me. The way you were with that woman, you were never like that with me.”
But Lincoln was. Every time he touched her, even to spank her, his desire washed over her, brought her to life. It just wasn’t enough to make him want her to stay.
“I fucked up, Natalie. And I need to get back into your good graces.” He caressed her cheek, and she let him. “Isn’t that how you put it in your message?”
She believed him. About everything. In Lincoln’s dungeon, she
’d learned how thrilling all those naughty acts could be. She understood how Van could grow to crave them. She knew herself, too, why he would have feared telling her. “I don’t hate you anymore, Van. I’m not angry with you. You’re back in my good graces.” She squeezed his hand. “But not like before.”
Lincoln had touched her, and there was no going back. Despite how the night had ended, regardless of how much it hurt as Lincoln closed his door on her, she couldn’t go back to Van. What she’d felt for him had been so mild in comparison.
Van raised the back of her hand to his lips. “Friends, then, Natalie?”
He didn’t seem terribly hurt or broken up. She didn’t want that, anyway. “Yeah. Friends.”
He winked. “If you two need a third for a play date sometime, it would be fucking hot.”
The words hit her like a wrestler’s body slam. She didn’t have that kind of future with Lincoln. She wasn’t even sure how she’d face work on Monday after what they’d done tonight.
“Natalie.”
Van’s voice brought her back. He held her hand in both of his. “He’s in love with you, too, Nat.”
She laughed, then covered her mouth. Not once had Van asked who Lincoln was, how long she’d known him, or what they were to each other. So he couldn’t truly interpret what he’d seen in Lincoln’s playroom. “Lincoln is my boss, Van. Mr. Masters.”
Van’s jaw dropped. He pointed back at the house. “That is Mr. Masters?”
“What you saw was part of a punishment he’s been doling out because I’ve been distracted and making a lot of mistakes since…” She shrugged, pursed her lips. “Since I found you with your sex therapist.”
Van cupped her cheek. “Poor, poor Natalie. It doesn’t matter that he’s your boss. I saw what he felt every time he touched you.”
“Please don’t try to build me up, Van.” That would only make it worse. “What we did was a onetime thing only. He just did it for me because…” She couldn’t explain anymore, couldn’t say how she’d sat in Mr. Masters’ office pouring her heart out about what a bastard Van was. Her boss simply felt sorry for her. “I have to go.”
Van didn’t release her hand. “Promise you’ll think about what I said. Talk to him. Don’t let him slip through your fingers the way I did with you. Don’t give up.”
He was wrong. Lincoln—Mr. Masters—had said it all when he shut the door on her, but she’d promise Van anything if it meant getting out of there. “I won’t give up.” Then, because she wasn’t sure she’d see him again despite saying they’d be friends, she kissed him on the cheek.
She didn’t allow herself to cry until he’d disappeared from the rearview mirror as she drove away.
Chapter Eleven
‡
Sunday night, after her head ached from too many tears, Natalie finally decided what she had to do.
Monday morning, dry-eyed, she went in an hour early before anyone else had arrived. Email or memo?
A memo was more official. She’d leave it on his desk. He could give it to human resources. Booting up her computer and opening a memo template, she typed his name after To and hers after From, subject, Resignation. Effective immediately. He wouldn’t have any trouble getting one of the girls from HR to fill in temporarily. In this economy, she ran the risk of being unable to find another job, especially if he refused to provide a reference because she hadn’t given him two weeks’ notice. Yet the mental anguish of seeing him every day for the next two weeks while her heart broke into teeny tiny pieces was worse than joining the ranks of the unemployed.
She wasn’t sure she’d even make it through the next hour. The moment he walked in the door, she’d probably start bawling like a baby, and he’d be embarrassed, and she’d be mortified on top of being devastated, so instead she printed out the resignation memo.
Using her key to his office, she unlocked the door and padded across the carpet to lay the memo in the center of his desk where he couldn’t miss it.
In the midst of her self-inflicted misery—or was that self-pity—she allowed herself a spark of anger. Dammit. It really wasn’t fair. He’d started it, making her bend over his desk for that first spanking. He’d suggested she punish Van. As for everything else, it had all been his idea.
I don’t believe I can let this night end without fucking you. His declaration had seemed so heartfelt.
I’ll go fucking crazy if you don’t suck my cock right now. She was the one who’d gone crazy hearing those words, willing to do anything for him, giving her all.
Natalie stared at her resignation.
She hadn’t done a thing wrong except fall for a man who had no feelings. She deserved better.
Gosh, she should let him fire her—which he surely would do after throwing her out of his house—so she could apply for unemployment. At least that was fair since he’d made the first move. She would not be such a wimp.
Natalie snatched up her resignation.
At her desk she retyped with an effective date two weeks hence. She’d be strong. She’d wait for him to call her into his office and tell her he was letting her go. If he didn’t, at the end of the day, after he’d gone home, she’d leave the resignation on his desk. Then she’d figure out how to get through the next two weeks.
But why had he treated her that way? She’d done everything right on Saturday night. When he was buried deep inside her, she could have sworn he felt something for her. The way he looked at her, the sounds he made, the words he uttered; how could he have been faking all that?
Van’s words echoed in the empty room as if he were standing right beside her.
He’s in love with you, too.
That couldn’t be true. Yet she stared at her resignation memo.
Don’t let him slip through your fingers the way I did with you.
She’d let Van slip away. Seeing him with that woman, she’d cut and run. She wouldn’t answer his calls, listen to his messages, or read his emails. If not for the fact that he had a key to her house, she’d never have spoken to him again.
She’d cut him out of her life because she was too demoralized to hear what he had to say.
Now she was cutting Lincoln out. She’d interpreted his actions, decided he didn’t want her, and had no intention of confronting him.
What if she’d made the wrong interpretation?
Just as she had with Van, she was giving up Lincoln without a fight.
The truth was blazingly clear. She rolled over instead of standing up for herself. In everything. When she’d walked into Van’s apartment, she’d allowed him to destroy her faith in herself with what she saw. She allowed it. Instead of fighting back, she’d let Lincoln rebuild her self-esteem for her. You couldn’t lose your confidence if you actually owned it.
Dammit, she would take responsibility for her self-worth. She would fight for what she wanted.
Natalie shredded the second memo and typed a new one.
*
Natalie was seated at her desk like always. Lincoln half expected her absence, an email from her in his inbox.
She smiled—again like always. “Your messages are on your desk.”
“Thank you.”
Shit. She was willing to overlook his behavior Saturday night, the callous way in which he’d ended the evening. He’d been telling himself it was for her own good, he wasn’t the right sort for her, but the least he could have done was explained. He felt like a total schmuck. And despite it all, he still wanted to take her into his office and bend her over his desk.
“I also left you a memo,” she said as he was almost through the door.
His heart rolled over in his chest, and he knew without a doubt it was her resignation.
He was always in control, always the master of his domain, ruling his emotions and his employees. Until Natalie Beaumonde forgot to tell him a lunch date had been cancelled.
His life had gone to hell. Well, it had gone to heaven first, then straight to hell.
Maybe if he promised nev
er to touch her again. But if she stayed, he’d never be able to keep that promise. Which had been his dilemma the remainder of the weekend. Find her another job so his sanity could return, or keep her and make himself crazy?
He didn’t have a choice. He’d wronged her. The choice to stay or go was hers. Obviously, she’d made it. He’d find something for her, a good position. Jesus, that made him remember her on her knees with his cock in her mouth, such an excellent position. If she didn’t want his help, then he’d make sure he gave her an excellent reference. Oh man, could he give her a reference.
He rounded his desk, set his briefcase on the floor, turned on his computer, picked up his pile of pink message slips, set them down…and finally looked at her resignation.
He tipped his head like a befuddled dog.
The subject line read: “Natalie Beaumonde’s Resignations.” Not singular, but plural.
Below, she’d typed several bullet points.
I, Natalie Beaumonde, resign myself to:
1. Making as many on-the-job mistakes as possible.
2. Accepting Mr. Masters’ punishments for these mistakes as he sees fit.
3. Receiving the severity of the punishment befitting the severity of the mistake.
These punishments shall include but not be limited to:
1. Spanking by Mr. Masters with hand or paddle (but not too hard).
2. Submitting to nefarious sexual acts to include but not be limited to dressing in schoolgirl clothes to be debauched by Mr. Masters, getting on my knees to suck Mr. Masters’ cock, letting Mr. Masters restrain my hands and wrists and/or blindfold me, asking Mr. Masters to cuff me to the ballet bars in his dungeon and do naughty things to me, begging Mr. Masters to take me from behind (or in any position he chooses) on his office desk, and performing any other naughty act I’ve forgotten to mention, such as the use of various interesting toys.
3. Considering threesomes and foursomes, with right of refusal if:
a. The man is gross or
b. I’m jealous of the woman.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 109
