Intrigue Me

by Lacee Hightower

  Lance was such a nicer person when he wasn’t angry.

  He whistled as he cleaned up Styrofoam containers and returned soy sauce to the refrigerator, while I rinsed off silverware. Seconds later, he opened up the fortune cookies, handing the first one to me. With his brows arching and his lip bending into that same seductive smile I’d once adored, he said, “You go first,” exactly as he’d done a hundred times before.

  I stared down at the meaningless thin strip of paper, puckering my brows. “Challenging days are ahead.”

  Silence thickened the air. Neither of us spoke for a long minute as the eerie sensation turned the space between us heavy.

  “You okay, V?” Lance ran a hand down the length of my arm, catching the edge of what was still a very sensitive breast. His brown eyes were almost black, a familiar look I hadn’t seen in years.

  “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

  He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Fuck, baby. I miss the hell out of you. I made such a goddamned mess of things, but I’ve never stopped loving you.” His gaze flashed with a deep sadness, like he was thinking of old times. Wishing for a different outcome. Wondering if we could ever have a second chance. He kissed the top of my head, his hands running down my spine and over the curve of my ass.

  “We need each other, V. Melli needs more than a part-time father. We were so damn good together once. I resent every time I hurt you. All the fuck-ups I made. Please let me stay tonight.” Before I could escape his strong hold, his lips were on mine, his tongue pushing inside, the sound of his moans going straight from my ears to my sex.

  My pussy ached, dying to be filled, my nipples turning to stone. He smelled so damn good. And he was a wonderful kisser. Maybe we could be good together again. Maybe I could be honest about my needs. Maybe I could forgive him. Maybe we—God, no! This was ten kinds of wrong. Lance wasn’t who I wanted.

  Not who my sex throbbed for.

  Jesus, Ava.

  Fifteen minutes later, my ex walked out the front door with two photo albums between his hands, disappointment flashing in his eyes. A lingering ache filled my heart as I closed the door behind him. Lance was the past, and the good times between us would always be a part of me. He would always be special to Melli, and I planned to do everything in my power to keep them close. There was no way to predict what the future held, but there was one thing I did know.

  I craved more angry love. More force. More control.

  And Tage Morgan’s hands on me.

  ****

  Tage

  Minutes before 2 AM, I stared up at the ceiling, wide awake, trying to ease this jumbled mess of confusion in my brain. Sleep hadn’t been coming easily. Exhaustion was taking its ugly toll on me, both physically and mentally.

  Christ, I wanted her again. I needed her again. Something in her soft-spoken manner, her naiveté, brought on cruel, black delusions, stronger than just bondage. I wanted to strap her against a wall, a bed, to fucking anything, and leave her covered in my marks after thrashing her so severely that her delicate body was shaking while tears streaked down her face. Then, when I thought she couldn’t take anymore, I wanted to take both her pussy and her tight asshole until she was racked with fatigue, pleading for rest. Begging for mercy. I wanted Ava to cherish me, obey me, look at me like no one else existed.

  Another small part of me wanted someone to come whisk her and Melli away from Dallas.

  And away from me.

  I blinked back fatigue, grimacing, hit by the certainty of two things. Tomorrow, I’d go to Ava’s place. Kiss my daughter and make damn sure she knew her daddy loved her. Then, I wanted, needed, my hands on Ava.

  Deep-seated need rested inside my chest, while a long storm of feelings tore viciously at my insides. The hunger in my gut twisted and stiffened, along with my cock. As I gathered the aching firmness of my girth, my thoughts were overwhelming, emotions stirring inside me like a raging torrent. Fuck, this was no pain slut seeking a thrill. Not another faceless masochist seducing her way into my life or heavy hand, or another beautiful woman chasing my cock. This was the woman I had never gotten out of my head for eight long years. She was smiles, tears, apathy, and ecstasy.

  The mother of my daughter.

  The woman I … loved.

  Why couldn’t I be satisfied with a normal relationship? Why couldn’t I be a normal father? A traditional lover? Why was anything the way it was?

  Balls drawn tight, stomach clenching, every part of me was hard. Pulses of longing throbbed inside of me as I worked my swollen cock. Two, then three more hard thrusts and my back was arching, threads of thick semen spurting onto my abdomen.

  “Christ,” I whispered to absolutely no one. Nothing made sense anymore. I was frustrated, uncertain, and sending mixed messages. And Tage Morgan wasn’t a man unsure about his feelings. This was everything I had never been, and yet, here I was wanting more. Wanting everything. It was unclear where the two of us were headed as a couple, or if that scenario even applied. All I knew for sure was that I was falling deep. And fast.

  Quite possibly to the point of never rising again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ava

  “Mommy, can we go to Sweet Frog after dinner?”

  Five o’clock had me on pins and needles about the next twenty-four hours and Melli being gone for the night. My stomach had been rolling since the morning. I’d been worrying and fretting, which was pure motherly nonsense and most likely the culprit for my queasy belly. Melli was going to be just fine, and I was simply being overly paranoid. She sat at the kitchen table, sipping on hand-squeezed lemonade, my mom’s recipe, with a coloring book and crayons keeping her busy as I rummaged through the refrigerator for something to fix for an early dinner.

  “Yogurt again, sugar bear?” Chuckling as I stared into the bare refrigerator, I was torn between heating up leftover pot roast or blowing off cooking all together and succumbing to ordering a pizza. “For a girl who won’t touch regular yogurt, you certainly do have a love affair with frozen.”

  Melli giggled. “It’s not the same, and Uncle Adam said it’s still good for me and that you should get it every time I ask.”

  “Is that right?” I shut the fridge door and smoothed the hair cascading down her back that was as wild as the wind, wondering where the hair clips we’d put in this morning had ended up. “You and Uncle Adam sure do conjure up a lot of things you should get every time you ask.”

  Adam wasn’t really Melli’s uncle, but he was the closest thing she had to one. She couldn’t love him any more if he were a blood relative. Besides my dad, AKA Papa Mike, Melli didn’t have much of a family. My heart suddenly ached with an emptiness. I missed my mom, and even my dad, but there was no time to stress over that now. Melli needed dinner, and leftovers didn’t sound the least bit appealing.

  “Pleasssse, Mommy?” Staring up at me with wide puppy-dog eyes as her fingers threaded together in a pleading gesture, my young daughter was no fool and absolutely knew how to play me, knowing very well I’d give in.

  I generally did.

  Shit.

  I took a long swallow of ice-cold lemonade out of one of two mugs I kept chilled in the freezer. After all these years, my mom’s special recipe, which really only differed from any other because it had the addition of fresh mint, was still my favorite refreshing drink.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” I responded, acid beginning to churn inside me like someone had just lit a hot match in my lower belly. Jeez, I couldn’t think of a time my stomach had felt this bad. It was almost gut-wrenching, like boiling lava erupting inside me. I dumped the mainly full glass in the sink. “If you’ll go brush your hair and wash your hands really good while I pack your overnight bag, we’ll go eat Chinese and grab a frozen yogurt on the way to CJ’s house.”

  Tomorrow was already Saturday, and even though it was my weekend to spend with Melli, she had plans for another sleepover tonight with CJ and another young girl from school. When they woke up in the morning
, CJ’s parents were taking the three girls to the Fort Worth zoo for the day. CJ and Melli had become immediate best friends when CJ became a student at Great Love. They shared a mutual passion for music and dance, and both had Down syndrome. As usual, I was antsy about her being gone so long, but when I looked up again and saw her carefully placing each of her beloved pink crayons into the plastic pencil box she kept them neatly organized in, with a smile beaming on her face, I could only think of one thing, and that was how deeply I loved this little girl, and how badly I wanted her to be happy every single minute.

  She just brought so much joy to my life.

  I took a deep breath, blocking out the thoughts of senseless, bleeding-heart stares we often got. Tuning out the giggles and finger pointing. I’d once even had a woman tell me there was always adoption next time. With my heart in my throat, my stomach was souring all over again. Shit, I felt sick.

  Focus, Ava. Melli needs dinner.

  Melli stood, and hugged at my leg. “Amazeballs, Mommy. You’re all that and a bag of chips.” I shook my head at another wacky saying undoubtedly picked up from Adam.

  Where was I when he told her these things?

  Adam loved my Melli and made her happy. He played with her. Danced with her. Brought smiles to her face every time she came to the office with me. He treated her like the special person she was. There was nothing about Adam Matthews that wouldn’t make a terrific father.

  I was just grabbing my purse and cell phone when the sound of the doorbell chimed.

  Thinking it was more Girl Scouts selling cookies, my heart leapt into my throat when I opened the door to see Tage standing on the porch with more gifts. This time it was a king-size box of chocolates and a clear vase holding at least three dozen pink roses.

  “Just what Melli needs,” I said, gesturing him inside. “Gargantuan amounts of sugar. You do realize you don’t have to pamper her with gifts every time you see her, Tage.”

  He set the gifts beside my purse, then leaned over and kissed me. “I have every intention of spoiling my daughter for a good long time, right along with her beautiful mother.” He pushed at my hair, staring at me with a blazing blue gaze that was so lustful and suggestive, that I found myself thinking of us naked, his lips on mine, his hands learning every inch of my body, him hauling me over his knees and spanking my ass into a blistering-hot fire.

  “Tage. Tage.”

  Tage stepped back as Melli came skipping through the room with a broadening smile on her face, her hair still uncombed and a rumpled mess. The girl simply refused to take a brush and actually make use of it. She jumped straight into Tage’s arms, winding her little legs around him. “You came back. Can you come eat Chinese with Mommy and me? We can sing to Def Leppard in the car. Please. Please.” She hugged Tage’s neck, absolutely beaming as he stroked her hair with nothing but love in his expression.

  Please don’t hurt her.

  “Mitt hjarta,” Tage uttered softly against Melli’s head. “My heart.”

  Shit, now my heart was in my throat. I was crying, my emotions twisting and turning in too many ways to understand.

  “Be right back.” I made my way to the bathroom, swiping at the mascara smears and taking two long breaths. Why did I feel so strangely out of sorts? This was everything I wanted for Melli. Everything I wanted for the both of us. Ugly waves of nausea bit at my stomach again, and suddenly I didn’t think I could do spicy Chinese dumplings tonight. Maybe I’d just have egg-drop soup.

  “Mommy!” Melli’s face was glowing as I ambled back into the kitchen where she stood at the table with her coloring pictures laid out in a perfect straight row as Tage explained how he learned Swedish when he was about her age. “Tage wants to take us to eat Chinese at his place if it’s okay with you. It’s called,” she said through a ripple of silly giggles, “The Belching Dragon.”

  I cringed, frowning at a shrugging Tage.

  “I didn’t name the place,” he said. His face was coy and teasing, but his eyes heavy and somber.

  A little after 8 PM, Melli and Tage had finished gorging on Asian food while, much to my dismay, discussing belching at long length, while I sat quietly, my mind buzzing with a million thoughts as I picked at soup and sipped hot tea. Afterwards, we dropped Melli off at CJ’s house, reluctantly, and started the drive back. Long minutes of silence ticked by, my stomach twisting.

  “Can I ask you something?” With an attempt to break the silence between us, my heart suddenly pounded with nerves at what I was thinking, and what I was seconds from asking.

  Tage could be vulgar and rude. He had turned my life upside down in the past, and could quite possibly do the same thing again. He could also be funny and sensitive, and so damned sexual. I was racked with a sudden rush of arousal, and need simmered through me. I clenched my thighs, hungry, strangely turned on, and shaken at the depth of these needs and yearnings for a life with him. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. It was blunt and forward, everything I wasn’t.

  He stared straight ahead. “Go ahead.”

  “You do things to me that have never been done before. You bring something out inside me that’s been bottled up for many long years. You turn me into someone different, Tage. You intrigue me. Please,” I choked out. “Hurt me. Show me … everything.”

  “Ava.” Lust glistened in his piercing blue eyes, his body tensing behind the wheel as he turned toward me.

  I wanted to play—hard. No restraining. No holding back this time. He was the man I’d wanted since I was a teen. He’d rocked my world before, and still did today. Maybe this was love. Maybe it was just lust. Either way, if things went the way I hoped, tonight I was going to walk away knowing just how deeply into sadism Tage really was.

  And if I could be the masochist to feed his need for release.

  “I need this,” I all but whispered. “Please.”

  ****

  Tage

  Just a few short weeks ago, I had no idea I was a father. Never once suspected this little carbon copy of me had been right here in the same town for seven years. And I absolutely gave no serious fucks about ever loving someone. Today, I held an intense, tender devotion for my daughter so deep, that it was beyond words, indescribable. And astounding.

  Still, I was lost and confused. Anger continued to simmer behind my chest, and I felt caught somewhere between wanting to hurt, and wanting to nurture.

  I stared into what was left of the day’s sun as I drove back to my place, silently, a gloomy darkness embracing my mood. Tension was pulling me in opposite directions. I wanted her nipples in clamps. I wanted to listen to her whimper at the sharp bite of my belt. I wanted to take her tight ass with my cock. Fuck her hard and deep. Give her a reminder of who I was.

  Christ, was this still what I wanted? What I needed?

  Fear for arousal? Pain for gratification?

  It was … more than ever.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ava

  Once in our lifetime, if we’re lucky, we might meet that one person who touches us in that special way. Who takes our heartbreak as their own and does everything in their power to ease our tears and bring light back to our eyes. Who perhaps understands our needs better than we may. From the first moment I saw Tage, that special feeling was there. That need … that desire … that understanding. Would it be stronger by the night’s end?

  Or would it be gone forever?

  I was minutes from living my fantasy. With my fantasy.

  And I wanted it. Dear God, I did.

  The hairs on my neck were on end, my heart hammering at the hunger in his gaze. I was scared, but excited. Emotional, but calm. Lights danced through the windows of the dim bedroom, casting eerie shadows on the floor that resembled ghosts and goblins. Tage stood against the wall, his pulse discernible and thrashing in the column of his neck, his eyes cold ice. Darkness was etched in his face, no leniency in his expression. He looked strong, powerful, and determined. Like a man without a heartbeat who wanted to tie me up and
whip me until I couldn’t sit for a week.

  “Are you sure, kitten?”

  My heart fluttered. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Okay. Then, here’s what’s going to happen,” he said with a blank face. “The clothes are coming off. The blindfold is going on. And then,” he said in a hard tone, “I will have you for my pleasure. My needs. And if you’re lucky, I’ll let you come.”

  My breath lodged in my throat. I was throbbing inside, my heartbeat loud in my ears. His words made my belly clench. They were lewd and bold, possessive and erotic—all surefire guarantees of hard, sheet-curling orgasms and a slew of other things I couldn’t begin to imagine. I was more than ready for this—all of it. I wanted to cede to each and every one of his vile, twisted acts. I wanted to hand over my power.

  I wanted to surrender.

  I wanted to submit.

  With a piercing lethal stare that was filled with frost, indifference, and apathy, he gestured toward the blue lace dangling from my hand.

  This is it.

  Buzzing hot elation reeled through me as pent-up lust coiled in my sex. Hell. I wasn’t sure how to do this. If I could do this. Seconds from now, I was going to be standing in front of this beautiful dominant man again, naked, vulnerable, being judged and assessed. Were my breasts round enough? My stomach flat enough? My thighs shapely enough? Nudity wasn’t something I was comfortable with. My body was far from perfect. My hips were a tad wider than they had once been, my breasts hanging a little lower. Stretch marks carpeted my abdomen and upper thighs.

  With my belly jittering with nerves and contracting into uncomfortable knots, I tightened the blindfold around my eyes.

  “Strip.”

  I drew in a quick stiff breath at the tone of his voice. It was dark. Cold. Dominant.

  My stomach churned as I reached for the bottom of my tank top, my fingers freezing against the fabric as a soft panic ran up my spine. I wanted to see his beautiful bronzed face and clear eyes that resembled the light blue from the pastel watercolor sets I’d used as a child. I longed for the comfort his gaze gave me, and the sound of his sensual, accented voice promising me everything was going to be fine. But this was all a part of who he was. Who he would always be. He didn’t want me calm. Didn’t want me thinking everything was going to be fine. Inflicting pain, not only physical, but mental, only electrified the sadist in him. This was about Tage’s needs. Tage’s desires. The fact that my face was undoubtedly lit up with timidity, as well as awkwardness and doubt, meant nothing to him besides colossal gratification.