Finders Keepers (Fairy Tales After Dark Book 2)

by Jessica Collins

  Gene’s brow quirked. “Brat?”

  Alistair smiled. “Oh, yeah. Big time. Gets my blood fucking boiling.”

  “Okay, well, then there’s something else I know. If anyone could help her, give her what she needs, it’s you.”

  Alistair nodded at the truth to the statement. He loved brats, they were his specialty. Some of the Doms at The Cave had even started referring to him as “the tamer”. Alistair wasn’t lying when he disclosed to Jayla he was good at reading others. It’s what helped him there. He read what the sub was looking for — attention, punishment, fun. He read, and gave exactly what she needed.

  The question about what she would need to be safe at dinner was the first time he asked that of a sub. A woman. Ah, fuck, of anyone.

  “It’s not that easy, Gene.”

  “Yeah, it is. You’re complicating it. It’s not like you’re an axe-wielding murder. You like blindfolds and handcuffs. And leather whips. Fuck, I’m getting all hot just thinking about it.”

  Alistair glared.

  “Look. She’s been injured, I get that. She’s going to need someone to care for her — to protect her. But most importantly, Al, she’s gonna need a guy to remind her that she’s a sexy-as- fuck woman. One who holds all the control. Who better than you?”

  Alistair shrugged. He wanted to be the guy for her, but, for the first time in his life, wasn’t sure he could give someone what they needed.

  The kicker? It was the first time he really, truly wanted to.

  Jayla’s first shift on the floor having ended, she walked backstage to begin to prepare for her first solo performance of the evening. Tonight she had a new song ready and was humming to herself when the sight of a woman leaning against the wall grabbed her attention.

  “Evie?” she called out to the blonde bartender, immediately noticing something was wrong. Jayla’s smile quickly faded. She took note of Evie’s ghostly appearance, her eyes fluttering, and it seemed the wall was the only thing holding her up.

  Jayla took a step closer, “Hey … you okay?”

  When Evangeline’s legs buckled, Jayla rushed forward, catching her. “Evie!”

  “Help! Someone get help!” she called backstage. Snow ran to her, and just as quickly, Max was there, followed by Gene and Alistair.

  On the floor, Jayla cradled Evangeline, rubbing her hair. “Come on, Evie. Wake up. Wake up.”

  “What happened?” Snow asked, dropping to the floor beside Jayla.

  “I have no idea. I was headed backstage to change for my solo, when I saw her lean against the wall. She looked sick — pale skin, eyes half closed. I asked her if she was okay and the next thing I knew, she fainted.”

  Jayla hoped she wasn’t drugged — she’d had firsthand experience with being roofied, courtesy of Jeffrey, and while she didn’t remember much, she did remember those first few moments when she realized something wasn’t right.

  “Sugar!” Belle exclaimed, rushing forth, directing her words to Snow. “Get some orange juice! She might need sugar.”

  Surprising the crowd, Evie’s arm moved, swatting the air. “Gmph.”

  The group looking at each other in confusion, Gene moved forward, lifting Evangeline’s wrists. “She’s diabetic? She doesn’t have a bracelet.”

  “How many diabetics actually wear a medical bracelet?” Belle asked, anxiously.

  “Still … this doesn’t look like low blood sugar,” he continued. “She’s not unconscious … she’s … well, if I didn’t know any better I’d say she’s sleeping.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?” Jayla asked, watching Evie carefully for signs of movement.

  It seemed the news of Evie’s situation had spread to the entire staff. They were surrounded by a small crowd of concerned faces.

  “It’s not diabetes,” Merry explained, elbowing her way to the front and crouching down beside them.

  Suddenly, Evie sat up, her eyes still closed. “Go home, peanut. You’re drunk,” she said, before her head lolled forward and she dropped back into Jayla’s arms.

  “What’s wrong with her, Merry?” Belle asked, concern in her tone.

  “She has a rare disorder, Kline-something-or-other. It hasn’t flared up in years, but the doctor warned her to take it easy. She hasn’t been feeling well lately, really tired, and was worried it was coming back. She has an appointment tomorrow — guess she wasn’t kidding.”

  “What do you mean? Does she need an ambulance?” Jayla asked.

  “No. She needs a bed. It’s like narcolepsy, only worse. She gets really tired really quickly and then sleeps for a long-ass time. When we were in high school she was out for eighteen days once. Woke up like nothing was wrong. She’ll be okay, trust me.”

  Gene moved forward, gently lifting Evie, his arms under her knees and shoulders, cradling her like a baby. “What do we do now?” he asked.

  Merry turned toward Snow. “Is your sister still in town? She’s a bartender back home, right? Can she get here and fill in?”

  Belle jumped in, “Don’t you worry about that. Take Evie home, Gene you help her. I’ll get behind the bar.”

  “Belle, it’s okay. I’ll call Scarlett.” Snow already had her phone in hand.

  Belle’s expression was one of gratitude. “If she can come, she’s welcome. It’s packed already and the night’s just starting.”

  “On it,” Snow jumped to her feet and dialed the number.

  Alistair held out his hand for Jayla, helping her from the floor. As the crowd dissipated, he smiled, shaking his head. “Enough excitement for one night, huh?”

  She teased, “And here I thought you were always up for more. Pity.”

  “What’s wrong?” Snow asked, pulling a stool next to Jayla backstage.

  The night was nearly over — one last group number to go, and she’d be able to dress and get home. Gene was still with Merry at Evangeline’s, according to Alistair, who was going to pick him up after dropping her off at home. He asked if she wanted to go, but Jayla was exhausted.

  “Nothing, just tired.” It was a half-truth.

  “Tired doesn’t make you look like someone stole your toy,” Snow replied, cocking her brow. “I know it has something to do with Alistair. Might as well just spill now.”

  “How do you ‘know’ that?”

  Snow laughed. “Well, dinner went well, I assume, since you both came in here all smiles. I know you haven’t had a chance to see him much tonight, and for some reason, as the minutes go by you get more downtrodden. So … seems to me your head is getting in the way of what your heart wants.”

  One thing she loved about Snow was her sincere bluntness. When she’d mentioned Alistair’s dinner invitation, Snow had all but squealed on the phone, wanting to hear all the details. Now, with the few minutes they had before their number, Jayla filled her in on their conversation.

  “Fuck, Jayla. So why so sad? If I were you I’d be hittin’ that as soon as possible.”

  “I … I don’t know. I feel like I’m on this roller coaster. For so long I’ve been so careful, not getting close to anyone. Then, all of a sudden, I get to New York, and all the walls I’ve worked so hard to build are just crumbling to the ground. I have friends — which trust me, I’m incredibly thankful for — and now this with Alistair. I mean, I kissed him. I-I haven’t kissed anyone in four years.” Looking down at her hands, she feared how pathetic she sounded out loud. “I feel like I’m both forgetting myself and remembering myself all at once, and I’m so fucking scared.”

  Snow’s expression softened, reaching out, holding Jayla’s hand. “I cannot imagine what you’ve been through,” she started.

  During one of their “girls’ nights”, and subsequent coffee trips and conversations, Jayla had filled her in on the abuse from Jeffrey, as well as her life the past few years.

  “It’s not cowardly to be yourself again, Jayla. It’s the opposite. It seems like, for the first time, you’re starting to be you again. That’s a good thing.”

&nb
sp; “I don’t trust myself,” Jayla commented, recognizing this was her true fear. She completely missed the red flags, the warning signs, from Jeffrey. What if she were doing it again? Hell — Alistair admitted to hitting women, and here she was, trying to excuse it.

  Suddenly, Snow was around her, hugging her tightly. “Trust me then, for now at least. Alistair is a good one. And you are doing everything right. Being uncomfortable is good, it means you’re changing, growing. If you’re comfortable, you’re stagnant.”

  “You sound like one of my therapists,” Jayla laughed into her hair, returning the hug.

  “Veterinarian, therapist. Same thing, right?” Snow laughed back.

  When the two separated, a sly smile graced Snow’s face “How about you let me help you celebrate all this change?”

  “Celebrate? How?” Jayla responded, cautiously.

  “If I tell you, it’s won’t be a surprise.”

  “What if I don’t like it?”

  Snow laughed. “You will. It’ll help clear your mind. Relax you. Maybe even give you some clarity about your man issues.”

  Jayla tilted her head in sarcasm, “Man issues?”

  “Please. You’ll thank me after, I promise!”

  Snow clasped her hands in front of her chest, eyes wide, begging Jayla to agree. Jayla shook her head, realizing she couldn’t turn her down.

  “Fine. But if I hate it, I’m so getting you back.”

  Snow squealed and hugged her tightly. “You are going to love it, guaranteed.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The following Tuesday, Snow showed up at Jayla’s apartment, a blindfold in hand.

  “A blindfold? Really, Snow?” Jayla balked at the idea of putting it on.

  “Come on, girlie, grow a set and just trust me, okay?”

  With a sigh, Jayla had relented and let Snow tie the binding across her eyes and lead her downstairs and outside.

  One short car ride later, she’d removed it and let Jayla take in the candlelit room. Soft music played from hidden speakers, calling for her to relax. She took a deep breath — eucalyptus and jasmine were immediately recognizable. She laughed to herself at the jasmine. Figures. Everything lately is reminding me of my past.

  Jayla laughed to herself. Snow’s “surprise”? A massage — the first in her life.

  Surveying her surroundings, light colored walls complimented by dark crown molding, she figured she was at a spa. The floor was a dark wood as well, with a small natural colored rug under the massage table.

  Doing as Snow had instructed before leaving the room, Jayla undressed completely. Carefully folding her garments, she laid them over the chaise longue against the wall and made her way over to the massage table. The wooden floor felt cool under her bare feet. Scooting onto the table, she placed her face in the open hole of the headrest and pulled the covers up her back as much as possible. Taking a deep breath, she realized the soft mattress beneath her was warmed. As she lay waiting for the masseuse, the warmth of the bed and the scents flooding the dim room combined with the soft tones of the music, and she actually began to relax.

  The door opened and shut nearly silently, followed by the shuffle of feet walking toward her. The thin sheet was pulled higher up her back, covering her shoulders. The masseuse placed a bolster pillow under her ankles, lifting them a few inches off the ground. Large hands circled over her back, their warmth apparent through the thin sheet. The masseuse stood to the left of her. Placing one hand low on her back, the other between her shoulder blades, he spoke.

  “Take a deep breath, Jayla.”

  What the actual fuck? Tensing in recognition, turning her head, she faced Alistair.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, no longer calm.

  “Giving you a massage. Turn back and take a deep breath,” he commanded. His eyes were closed, face tilted up as he took a deep breath, seeming to pretend not to notice her discomfort.

  “Why are you giving me a massage? I thought I was here … for real.”

  “I am giving you a massage … for real. Now turn your head and take a deep breath.”

  “B-but—”

  “Do you trust me?” he asked softly.

  That damned question again. His deep brown eyes shone in the dim light, waiting for a response. In the darkened room, with his hands on her, her mind returned to the night at the beach, his lips against hers, his body thrusting upwards, bringing her to orgasm. A new feeling of warmth, having nothing to do with the massage table, rushed over her. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it all affected her. How much he affected her.

  Silently, she turned her head back into the pillow and after a moment, took a large breath in and out. They breathed together for a few moments, his hands on her back, heating her.

  He removed the sheet from her back, slowly trailing it down her spine. The fabric trailing over her lit her senses once again. He lowered it past the dip between her hips, stopping just above the crack in her ass. The exposure created goosebumps on her skin.

  Moving in front of her, she heard a container open, followed by the sounds of him rubbing his hands together before placing them on hers — slick with a warm, pleasant scented oil.

  He started at her shoulders, running his hands along the length of her back, fingertips just brushing the top of her ass. Pulling his hands back up her sides, this time, he brushed against the sides of her breasts that spilled out from under her. He repeated these motions a few times, each pass slower than the last. The slick heat against her felt amazing, and the sensations against her ass and breasts kept her thoughts firmly in the gutter.

  His hands moved to the tops of her shoulders. As he kneaded his fingers into her, a soft moan escaped her lips.

  “You’re so tense,” he reported, as if she didn’t already know.

  You being the one to massage me isn’t helping.

  “Probably why Snow thought this would help,” he added.

  His hands glided over her, fingers pressing deeper in certain areas than others. He hit a particularly tight area just under her shoulder blade.

  “You have a large knot here. I’m going to work it out, but it’s going to be a bit painful.” He pulled her arm away from her side, bending it at the elbow and resting her hand against her back. “Take a deep breath in, then let out as much air as possible.”

  She did as instructed, and he pressed deeply into the muscle, his knuckles digging into her back. There was a quick bite of pain, followed by the movements of his hands along the area. This continued a few moments, him working the knot out with extra pressure. Each time she felt the beginning of hurt, he would distract her with other sensations. After a few minutes, she felt looser.

  “You’re good at this,” she told him, the words out of her mouth before she realized she wanted to admit it to him.

  “I know.”

  Of course. “How did you learn to massage someone?”

  “One of my subs was a masseuse. She gave me daily massages while teaching me to do the same.”

  She rolled her eyes behind her closed eyelids, not wanting to give him any fodder to tease her.

  He moved away from this area, his hands gliding over her again. The combinations of pressure, his nails and fingertips, knuckles and forearm — bliss. He worked his way from her back to her arms, caressing even her fingertips. As he continued to touch her, she couldn’t help but replay their kiss. He’d worked her mouth like a maestro, knowing exactly how she liked to be kissed. She felt dampness grow between her legs, the heat of the table only amplifying her wetness. She shifted, uncomfortable with the increased moisture.

  “Too hard?” he asked.

  The words only heated her more.

  She cleared her throat before telling him, “No.”

  He lifted his hands, pulling the sheet over her back and arms once again. She took a deep breath, relief at assuming the massage had ended, when he lifted the sheet off her left leg. Pulling it up, he uncovered her leg and hip, tuc
king the sheet between her legs, brushing against her just enough to have her wondering if the motion was innocent, or on purpose.

  “Hey!” She turned, not expecting the cool air on her behind. Or, for him to touch her there.

  He didn’t respond, instead, he firmly grasped her ankle, pulling it closer toward him and opening her thighs wide. The cool air against her moist center made her gasp.

  He looked up at her, amusement on his face.

  “I only offer full body massages, Princess.”

  He smirked before adding more oil to his hands and beginning to work her calves. She wanted to pull away, yet his ministrations felt … so … good. She didn’t want him to stop, and against her better judgement, allowed him to continue.

  He worked up her calf, behind her knee and up to her upper thigh. Using his forearm, he rubbed up toward where her leg met her ass. His fingers trailed a gentle pressure up and down her leg, the sensation creating goosebumps. As his hands rubbed in a new direction, from outer thigh to inner, they pulled her skin tight. The movement ever so slightly opening her core, the wisps of air making her all the more wet. His fingers slowly trailed up. I swear to God he’s teasing me on purpose.

  He continued in this manner for some time, fingers and hands brushing her inner thighs. She caught the moan in her mouth more than once, and used all of her concentration not to rock herself toward his fingers as he neared her opening.

  Finally, he pulled the sheet over her, only to move to her other side and repeat the entire process on the other leg. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

  “Why did you learn how to massage? Isn’t that the sub’s job?”

  “It’s only ‘the sub’s job’ when it needs to be. Remember, Jayla … being a Dom means I pleasure my sub any way she needs. If she needs a massage, I have a duty to give it to her.”

  The thought that he insinuated he was treating her like a sub sent a tingle up through her entire body.