by Warren, Rie
“Nah, I’m not blue.” I was worse than blue. I was goddamn inconsolable.
“That’s right, because Stone men don’t piss and moan about what could be. They make it happen.” She smooched into the phone and sent extras for Nicky, because, “I heard him chuckling in the background. Y’all can’t fool me.”
She was right. Stone men didn’t sit around and mope. We took action and asked questions later.
* * *
Unfortunately, the big Alpha Male Saves the Day moment had to wait once again. Figured. Half an hour later, I stood outside the hotel with the Hens, waiting while they boarded the bus.
“Field trip!” Janice clapped. Today she was back in her Steampunk gear, and I still hadn’t managed to figure out what the genre entailed except maybe Gunsmoke meets Doctor Who.
Jacqueline winked. “Road trip.”
Head trip, more like.
Pushing right up to me, Missy the Mistress licked her lips. “Research.”
“Yeah, yeah. You keep trying to scare me, lady, and I’ll be forced to show you who wields the bigger stick.”
“I sure hope so.” Her gaze flicked to my groin.
I adjusted, just because, and she threw her head back with a raucous laugh. “Touché.”
Damn right.
I waited another few minutes, watching the carousel doors of the Ramada for a glimpse of high heels and red hair.
Nicky reappeared at the top of the bus steps. “She just texted Janice, she’s not gonna make it, baby.”
Climbing on board, I ducked down the aisle. I settled in next to Nicky and let him pull me into the lee of his shoulder. Swear to fuck, if we ended up back at The Golden Banana strip joint, I was going to lose my mind. This sitting around, stuck-on-repeat socializing wasn’t my style. I missed getting my hands dirty. I missed the kid. I missed the garage. I fucking missed Leelee and she was only staying a couple floors above me—that just wasn’t right.
Gossip about what went down during the book fair between Leelee and LaForge started up. I dropped my head down and shut my eyes. I’d had a ringside seat, but I wasn’t going to join in and fuel the fire. Trying not to pay attention to their secondhand stories, I remembered Leelee’s fierce expression when she’d told LaForge where he could pack his fudge. She’d been so damn glorious.
But afterward . . . the night spent with me, her shout-out with LaForge, her morning being in the limelight had taken their toll. It occurred to me her wigs weren’t sexy disguises at all. They were her shield, a way to protect herself in public, to project the persona she had to. A barrier between everyone who wanted a piece of her and the real person she was inside.
I made a disgusted noise. I was beyond numero uno asshole ranking now. Shrugging off Nicky’s arm, I turned around to Janice. She was hacking away on her phone, muttering about skanky agents and hashtag predators.
“Why isn’t Leelee here?”
“Packing.” Everyone chimed in without lifting their heads from their technological lifelines.
“She’s leaving tonight?” My voice raised several octaves higher.
All eyes lifted to me.
I schooled my face into an unconcerned mask.
Jacqueline piped up. “Have you seen her room?”
Yes. “No.”
“That girl blew . . . it . . . up! If she didn’t start packing today, she’d have to hire a moving crew to get it done in the morning.”
“Amen to that.” Janice high-fived Jackée.
The shuttle stopped in front of a nondescript strip mall. Everyone hopped off. The store looked innocent enough on the outside, but one step through the door and I was thrown into a deep, dark cavern of forbidden delights.
A sex shop.
Of course.
Nicky wrapped an arm around my waist. “Are you gonna be okay?”
Like I was a virgin or something. I knew my way around cock rings, thank you very much. “Yeah, lover. I reckon I’ll find something here we can make use of in the bedroom. Or in my office. Probably with you bent over my desk.”
Janice dashed out a quick #overheard #LitLuv tweet.
The gaggle got over their swooning moment and scattered in different directions. Left to my own devices, I detailed the interior of The Gee Spot from corner to corner and back to front.
Double-pronged and plain dongs in every color from flesh to fluorescent.
Vinyl chaps: I made a note for Fawn.
Handcuffs, collars, the aforementioned cock rings.
Dog leashes, and pony tails . . .
There was a wall of butt plugs and ball gags—because I’d have to be gagged to get a plug up my ass.
A case of vibrators ranged from rabbits to butterflies, we-vibes, and sleek, silver bullets, as well as the notorious it’s really a back massager heavy-duty variety that took 9-volt batteries.
Lube sold by econo-two-for-one bottles, by the gotta-hide-it mini bottle, or the single-use sachet: edible, flavorful, for him, for her, for us . . .
Porn flicks arranged by: mainstream, XXX, Extra XXX, ménage, boy-boy, girl-girl, and spoofs.
In short, nothing suitable to take home to the kid as a souvenir.
Nicky roamed up to me, his hand falling to my ass to goose me.
Mindful we were in public and surrounded by the social savvy Hens who could tweet, Facebook, or Instagram in an instant, I pushed him into a corner. “One more day, dude.”
“Then you go after the girl?” The handsome motherfucker slanted a smile at me. Jesus, for a second I could even see what Stone might see in him. Too bad I knew everything about him, from how he liked his coffee, his favorite frigging USC sweats to write in, and which side he dressed to and slept on.
“It might be too late.”
“Don’t be so fatalistic.” His chin jerked up. “You know what Gigi would say about that.”
“Bullshit.” We grinned at each other.
Mistress Peachtree sidled up beside us. “Lover’s tiff?”
“As if.” Beckoning out to the hazy, red-lit depths, I dared, “Why don’t you show me your piece of this playground.”
I didn’t know a Domme from a Doberman Pinscher. Both were brutal in my mind. But when Missy stepped ahead of me, she slipped into a different persona just as surely as Leelee donned her wigs to protect herself.
Kinks, fetishes, costumes lined the walls as Missy led me to the BDSM section.
Taking down a crop, she slid it across her palm. I smiled and grabbed a bigger one.
“It’s not always about size, Stone.” She plied her instrument in an arc that whistled beside me.
I performed a Zorro move in front of her. “Oh yeah? Tell that to my last conquest.”
The slap-slap-slap of the crop on her palm rode the fine line of my nerves. I danced back as she sauntered forward. “It’s about the exchange of trust. The power lies in the one who gives it up. The person who submits has all the control in a D/s relationship.” Plying the slim weapon, she slashed the air between us.
On her next pass, I grabbed the crop and cracked it in two. “I don’t submit to anyone.”
“You’ve never let yourself lose control.”
My teeth snapped together. I bent forward until we were nose to nose. “Yes, I have.” I’d given up my control with Leelee, no one else. I looked at the broken pieces of the crop in my hand. “I’ll pay for this.”
“Yes. You will.” Her look was intense. “Don’t miss your chance, Stone.”
Shit. She knew about me and Nicky, me and my feelings for Leelee. She had to, to keep making comments like that. I stalked away from the whips, chains, and nipple-clamps. Just in case, I picked up a box of Magnums—ignoring the hot pink size-and-style chart above the shelves, because really? I squinted at a sleeve of pillow-packet lube and decided to purchase that too, to keep up appearances.
At the register, I found Felicity haggling with the cashier as if this was a frigging flea market.
“Write-offs. These are write-offs, right?” She waved a hand
ful of—whoa—crotchless panties in front of my face.
I batted them away. “Anything having to do with the conference—write-off. Booze, food, your registration as the assistant of an attendee. Call this research for your husband’s stories and you’re golden.”
“Oh-em-gee! Thank you, Stone.” Felicity whipped out her plastic and collected her bag. “I can’t wait for tonight.”
* * *
Later in the hotel room, Nicky was in the bathroom. Steam poured from beneath the door, and it was a strong possibility he’d fallen asleep standing up in the shower. I left him to it. Condoms, lube, and crap I might never use waited in a bag by my duffel to be packed up and lugged back to Mt. Pleasant in the morning.
I kicked my feet up on the desk, opening Leelee’s dog-eared book. If I couldn’t get back in Leelee’s bed, I was going to get inside her head.
After their first night when Jase showed super-human restraint, he went to bed in briefs, Ave in panties and one of his T-shirts that hung huge on her. He kept everything top shelf—and, man, she had a rack on her—above cloth, except when his tickles on her belly pulled his wandering fingers closer to the generous bottom curves of her tits.
They lived together, loved together, and for the first time, Jase took a girl, his girl, on dates.
That must’ve been where I got it all wrong with Leelee. Snatching a dance, a kiss, a fuck whenever no one was looking was no way to treat a lady. I’d probably made her feel cheap and tawdry instead of cherished and treasured.
The night Jase hoped to make love to Avery, he took her to a nice restaurant. It was nothing flashy or expensive, but the food was great, the place cozy. He was murmuring into her ear, describing what he wanted to do to her later when her eyes dropped the hooded look of pleasure. Her troubled blue gaze flashed across the restaurant.
Jase inched away and turned his head to look at the tableful he recognized from campus. They all thought they were hot shit. They whispered and giggled, pointing at the couple. Jase thought they were talking about him until he heard Ave’s choppy sigh.
“What’s that all about?” He jerked his head in the direction of the other table.
Ave pulled her sweater back on. With her armor back in place, she cowered. Hands tucked inside the hems, fingers curling over, she cast her eyes down. “Nothing.”
The fact that she could withdraw from him so completely pissed him off. “Bullshit it’s nothin’.”
“I’m not a virgin, okay?” She hissed, head still down.
Shit. He wouldn’t have expected any twenty-one-year-old to be a virgin, but given how chaste Ave had been when he’d first started rooming with her, he’d let himself hope so.
Swallowing his instinctual reaction, he said, “Oh-kay?” He tried to find her hand within the folds of her sweater but she flinched away. “And what’s that got to do with them?”
Her hands appeared on the table from the loose cuffs but only to compulsively fold and unfold the cloth napkin. “He told them, he told everyone, it was consensual.”
Jase sat erect in his seat, fists forming, his heart thundering. “Who exactly is he?”
Her voice was almost too quiet to be heard. “Their ringleader, Duncan Locke.”
Jase knew Duncan. He hadn’t liked him before, and now he was gonna kill him. “Are you saying Duncan raped you?”
Oh hell. My little piece of escapism just turned serious. I was only glad the same thing hadn’t happened to Leelee, that she’d stood up to LaForge and given him the verbal smackdown before anything bad happened.
“I don’t expect you to believe me. My RA didn’t. That’s why I had to get out of the dorms.” She still wouldn’t look at him. In fact, she scooted her chair back, ready to walk out.
Jase grabbed her hands, the napkin falling unheeded to the floor. He pushed up her sweater cuffs and pressed her palms to his face after giving a gentle kiss to each center. “You think I don’t believe you, Ave?”
“Why would you?”
“Because I love you.” His voice was hard, unyielding.
Her eyes shot up. Her lips fell open before she pursed them tight, shaking her head.
“Don’t believe me?” Jase’s nostrils flared. When he received more silence from her, he shoved back his chair and stood. “Right.”
“Jase, I’m sorry! Don’t, don’t leave me.”
He swung toward her, dropping a deep, full kiss on her lips. “Never leaving you. I’ll be right back.”
Rolling up his sleeves, he stalked to the table full of twats. He watched their shock as they took in his angry expression. His violence was barely held in check. Knuckles rapping down on the table so hard their water glasses spilled and several of the girls gasped, Jase got into each and every one of their faces.
“Are you talking about my girlfriend over there?”
The dumb fucks stared at him.
“That’s what I thought.” His voice vibrated with rage. “Listen up, you preppy, prissy little shits. I don’t care who your daddies are, I don’t care if you’re varsity-this or sorority-that, I’ll fuck you up. I’ll ruin your social lives. I’ll destroy your academics. I will run you out of this school. You know who I am, right?”
One of the letter-jacket wearing pricks answered, “Yeah, you’re Jase Everly.”
“Fucking bingo. So you know what I can do, right?”
Bingo nodded and the others followed suit.
“And that is Avery Greene. She’s worth more than any of you can imagine. I love the shit out of her. You mess with her, you deal with me.” Straightening up, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You can tell dickhead Duncan, I’m gunnin’ for him.”
Jase pivoted around and returned to Ave. Her face was burning, her eyes trained on the floor. Watching the group of shitheads rush to pay up and get out, he felt a little bit of satisfaction. But he was still enraged, so angry his ears buzzed. He couldn’t handle the idea that some guy had hurt Ave, had raped her! There was going to be hell to pay, but he had to look after her first.
He pulled her from her seat into his lap, holding her against him. Her breathing was erratic. “I didn’t want any attention. Never wanted anyone’s attention after what he did to me.”
That was why she dressed the way she did. Why she kept up the quiet mouse routine, except with Jase.
“Well, you got my attention now, Ave.” Tunneling his hand under her hair, he tipped her head up. Her eyes met his, so bright blue they reminded him of tropical waters, revealing a little less hurt, a little more hope. “You’ve got all my attention. I love you.”
When I’d first started reading Ride the story had fueled my fascination with Leelee, a sexy-shy woman I wanted to fuck. Not anymore. I was searching for pieces of her within the pages, looking for a way to reach her heart. Because if tomorrow came and I let her go without knowing the truth, her words would be all I had left of her.
Fifteen
Saturday: Big Bang Banquet
THE BALLROOM WAS SET to perfection for the final night of the RAWRing Twenties LitLuv convention. Decorated in black with hints of gleaming gold and rich pops of burgundy, I embraced the flair of the moment. Cigarette girls held wooden trays strapped to their necks, handing out programs instead of coffin nails. The room felt as off-limits as a true blue speakeasy.
I noted the Widows with a nod, swerved away from the LolliPOP Grrrls, and almost crawled under a table to hide from Jules Gem. I’d dressed with care for Stone’s Last Stand in the fedora and a well-fitting suit, garnering wolf whistles from my bros, the Coverdale crew.
Nicky swaggered beside me as we wound through the high-tops at the back of the room to a six-top reserved near the stage.
Jacqueline stood up, shouting, “It’s Nicky Fucking Love and Stone!”
Nicky grinned behind the two fingers curled into the corners of his mouth, pealing out a whistle worthy of a construction crew . . . or all the horny ladies at the Magic Mike Noon/Night male revue. “It’s that Big Name Author, Jacqueline!”
She grabbed my biceps and then my ass. Her feathered headband slid over the sky blue Lennon glasses. “Holy shit. Your ass is so tight!”
She passed me over to Jacqueline. Her jet beads glinted against the soft coffee of her skin. “This g’on be a good night.”
I dipped away from Missy’s forthcoming embrace with a feint to the left. “Fight the good fight, Stone.”
Yeah, all right.
I held out Nicky’s chair, waited until everyone else was seated, then pulled up between him and the sole remaining seat. Leelee was MIA. Again. Or maybe not. For all I knew she could be wearing yet another wig, hiding behind her protective veil. The longer her chair stayed empty, the more I felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin.
There was a big bulb-flashing brouhaha when the publishing BFD of the moment swanned up to the table next to ours, complete with entourage. Janice’s head coiled back. Missy smacked her crop across her palm. Jacqueline, the classiest of the group, spat into her palm and rubbed her hands together.
Romance writer turf wars.
Bubbly was served, lukewarm appetizers too. I ate like an automaton—food, mouth, chew, swallow, get it down. A few drinks later, a warm buzz spread to my stomach. I held Nicky’s hand, even kissed his knuckles.
His eyes caught mine. “Watch it.”
“Or what, you’re gonna drag my suit off and screw me right here?”
“Oh my.” Janice flipped her program into a fan.
Jacqueline’s gaze was glued to us. “Yes, please.”
“Get that in writing, Nicky.” Missy went one step further.
