by Sadie Haller
“I’ll admit, it’s crossed my mind. But, only out of curiosity, not judgment. I need you to understand that, Katie. I will never judge. There is no shortage of guys like Jim. Upstanding citizens to the outside world, domestic abuser in private.”
“Yeah, that pretty much sums him up.”
She twists her hands in the sheets, turning her knuckles white. I take her hand in mine. “Squeeze however hard you need. I’m here for you.”
Nodding, she leans her head back and closes her eyes. She’s silent for a moment and I think she’s fallen asleep. She has to be exhausted.
She opens her eyes again and looks at me. “I was kind of wild when we met. I’m a masochist and was pretty heavily into the BDSM club scene back then.” She pauses, obviously watching for my reaction.
I can barely hide my surprise. Never in a million years would I have suspected the sweet, goody-two-shoes Katie of my childhood is wild and kinky—just like me.
“Yeah, I know. Not what you were expecting at all.”
“True.” I say with a big grin. “But let’s just say you’re not the only kinky soul in the room, so no need to censor yourself. I’m fairly unshockable. You met at a club,” I prompt.
“Yeah. He was undercover looking for alcohol violations. He never played in public. That probably should have been my first clue he was a wannabe. He continued to come to the club after the investigation was over, and I wrote off his reluctance to play in public as a job thing. While he was undercover, he showed some interest in me, but not a huge amount, you know?” She looks at me, and I nod my understanding. “But when the investigation was over, he started pursuing me. By that time, he’d seen me in a number of really heavy scenes, and it was certainly no secret that I’m a hardcore masochist. I guess I was easy-pickings.”
I hold my anger in check. She doesn’t need that. But it makes me crazy when she blames herself. Instead I nod my encouragement.
“While he didn’t want to play in public, he was smart enough to take me into a private room at the club to play with me the first few times. He had just enough skill and charm to fool me into coming home with him. Even then, he was careful to push me only slightly past the limit. Enough that it really was abuse, but not so much that I’d be able to recognize it as such, especially given he’d do it when I was high on endorphins. An honest mistake in judgement, he’d call it. In the meantime, I was no longer attending the club. Why would I need to go to a club when he and I were exclusive? The only reason for that would be to fuck other men. Was that what I wanted? Was he not enough for me? His jealousy and possessiveness made it impossible for me to make him understand my need for a social life with like-minded people, so I gave up trying.
“Once I was completely isolated, he stopped holding back. And he’d always tell me he was giving me exactly what I asked for. Because he’d groomed me into begging him to hurt me. I’m a pain-slut, and he totally took advantage of that. It was his entire justification for what he did to me. I crave pain, so in his eyes, he was just giving me exactly what I wanted. Up until last night, he’d been very careful to keep my injuries within the bounds of what is covered by my normal clothing.”
Jesus. It takes a really bad-way-special kind of sadistic fuck to be that self-disciplined in his abuse. “What changed last night?
“I told him I was losing the baby. He accused me of getting an abortion. He wasn’t any harder on me than before, just not careful to keep the injuries under wraps. Turns out he probably didn’t need to.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Jim has a paramedic friend he’d bring in to patch me up. It was all a big joke between them. Chuckling to comments like, ‘got a little too amorous tonight’ or ‘a little carried away with the love-taps’ that kind of thing. Last night, when Jim brought him in, he just teased Jim about his aim being off.”
“Sweetie, that’s so awful. You know you didn’t ask for any of this, right?”
“Of course I did. I’ve literally begged for him to hurt me.”
“There’s a wide canyon between hurt and harm. And there is no self-respecting Dom on the planet, sadistic or otherwise, who would take his sub to a place where she was harmed, no matter how hard she begged him for it. Jim is a predator. He took advantage of your masochism and exploited it.”
“But—”
“Katie, there is no but. I know it’s going to take time to convince you that you didn’t do anything to deserve what he did. You didn’t ask for it. You didn’t put yourself in that position. He tricked you in to feeling safe and then twisted your desires to suit his own sick needs. You are who you are, and somewhere out there is a sadist who’s going to treat you right and give you everything you need, including unconditional love and respect. You deserve nothing less.”
It’s going to take a lot more than a friendly chat with me to help shift Katie’s mindset, but now that I know what we’re dealing with, I can help Amy’s House set her up with a kink-friendly counsellor.
“I know you’re right. Somewhere inside, I do. But there’s always this voice in my head talking over that.”
“And with time, and by hanging out with people who will treat you the way you should be treated, that voice is going to get quieter and quieter. It might never go away completely, but I’m confident you’ll get to a point where you can ignore it. And I promise I’m going to be here for you however long you need me.”
2
Heath
It’s my mother’s wedding day, and I’m up a little earlier than usual. I want to make sure her whole day runs smoothly. She should have hired a wedding planner, but my mom is very much one of those people who believes if you want it done right, you should do it yourself. At least I managed to convince her to off-load some responsibilities onto me.
With a large mug of coffee in hand, I settle at my desk and pull out my master list. Everything is checked off as being organized, but I still want to stop by the hotel and double check the reception arrangements and inspect the honeymoon suite before I head to my mom’s house. Her fiancé was insistent that he pay for everything, but after a long discussion, he did concede the reception and honeymoon suite to me as my wedding gift to them.
I’m just finishing my coffee and thinking about a hot shower when my phone rings. Alasdair. I know why he’s calling, and I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail, because I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to tell him. For a guy who works for the CIA, he sure needs a lot of reassurance. Well, on this score, he’s entitled. His brother’s suicide hit us all pretty hard, but Dair has always felt responsible.
“Hey Dair.”
“Are you still going to be able to make it tomorrow?” he asks.
“Of course. We’re scheduled to be wheels up at five, so lots of time after brunch to get to the airport.”
“But won’t your mom and her new husband need the jet to go on their honeymoon?”
“Nope. I offered, of course, but George was adamant that he take care of all the travel arrangements.”
“In that case, there are a few of us getting together to talk about a thing, and I’d like it if you and Grant can join us.”
“But not Nick?”
“Not at this point.”
“Why not?”
“Because Grant can’t risk any leaks, so we’re holding off Mr. Hot-shot TV News Anchor until it’s ready to break. So don’t say anything to him on the flight about it. Simon also needs to stay away, for reasons that will become obvious, so he’s arranged an evening at Arrogance, some new club in DC where everyone who’s anyone goes to see and be seen. It’s likely Nick will invite you go along. Be vague when you decline. I don’t want him to think we’re meeting behind his back. Well, we are, but there are reasons, and the less he is aware of at this point, the better for all concerned. I’ll talk to Grant, but you’ll want to connect with him ahead of time to work out whatever it is you’re going to tell Nick.”
My curiosity is truly piqued. If Grant can’t risk leaks, then hi
s undercover investigative journalist alter-ego, Sebastian Quinn is looking to make his first appearance in nearly a year. This trip just got interesting.
“Okay.”
“Excellent. Kevin’s flight is due in from Seattle at six, Simon is scheduled to pick Nick up from the hotel at eight, so we’ll meet up at Duke’s place at nine-thirty. That should give you all plenty of time to get settled in and eat beforehand.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Give your mom my love. I have a gift for you to bring home for her.”
As soon as I hang up, I strip and climb into the shower. The wedding is still hours away, but I want to make sure I’m at the house early so my mom doesn’t worry.
My mind wanders as I soap up. It never occurred to me that my mom would marry before me. I certainly never thought I’d be in my mid-thirties without a steady girlfriend, let alone a wife. Not that I don’t get laid when the need arises, but sometimes I think it would be nice to have someone to come home to. Human contact that extends beyond the bedroom. Maybe even kids. Of course, there are hurdles to domestic bliss. Namely, finding a submissive woman, preferably one who likes the bite of pain, who loves me for who I am, not what I’m worth.
It could happen.
I’m on my way to the wedding an hour later when Grant calls. “Hey man, Dair called you?”
“He did. Any thoughts on what to tell Nick when he asks us to join him?”
“Easy,” Grant says. “I’ve got a story I’m working on, and you’ve got meetings first thing in the morning. It’s true, and guaranteed, Simon and Nick will be out until the wee hours.”
“Works for me. Bets Nick comes back with a companion?”
Grant chuckles. “No bet.”
“See you tomorrow at Teterboro. Wheels up at five.”
“See you then.”
3
Georgia
Just as my taxi arrives, I spot Katie’s parents walking into the hotel. Fuck. I should have known they’d be here. Mr. Lewis is still my father’s best friend, and he was probably his best man today, like he was the last time my father got married. To my mom. That thought pierces me straight through the heart. It’s not like I ever expected my father to stay single for the rest of his life, but…I don’t even know. It’s already been such a topsy-turvy day. Add the reality of my father being married to someone not my mom, topped off by the impending introduction to his new son, and suddenly, I’m not nearly as together as I thought I was five minutes ago.
The only thing I’m completely sure of right now is I’m not prepared to deal with Katie’s parents. Not without fifteen minutes and some vodka to help me regain my composure.
I’m cutting it fine for time, but I’ve never been to a wedding yet that didn’t run well behind schedule, so a detour to the bar before heading into the ballroom shouldn’t make any difference.
Jesus, what a clusterfuck of a day it’s been. Even so, a little piece of me is glad that I was able to do something to help my friend.
When push came to shove this afternoon, I couldn’t leave Katie alone, so I stayed at the clinic with her until she was done, and then I took her to the safe-house.
Afterward, I had to meet with a supervisor, which went way longer than anticipated. I guess I really did break a lot of protocols. In the end, though, she said I made exactly the right decisions and she promised to keep me updated on Katie’s situation. Again, not exactly kosher.
I’ve had some tough days over the years, but today has been the hardest to handle, and I desperately need a drink.
A real drink.
Not some overpriced fizzy wine like I bought my father and Frances for their wedding gift. I order a double vodka on the rocks and find myself a small table in a back corner of the bar.
This is the first chance I’ve had to catch my breath and gather my thoughts since my phone rang this morning and my day turned into a shit-show.
Taking a long sip of my drink, I catch the eye of a tall, dark, and irresistibly sexy man standing at the bar, and it occurs to me that he may be exactly what I need.
4
Heath
Anger rolls off me in waves as I sneak out of the ballroom and cross the lobby to the bar.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, but my mom had faith.
And it tore me to pieces watching her get let down, yet again.
This is the fifth time the bitch hasn’t shown up to a major family social event since our parents started dating. I’d hoped this time might be different. She’d actually promised my mom she’d be here today. Used those words, even.
And now I’m going to take a little time to myself while my mom and George are getting pictures taken to indulge in a stiff drink.
“A double Lagavulin, please.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Kelly.”
Moments later, the bartender slides the glass of single malt in front of me. “Thanks.”
I consider taking a seat at the bar, but I don’t really want to be seen by any of the guests.
Looking around the room, I spot a gorgeous blonde giving me the once-over. We exchange smiles and I walk toward her table.
“May I join you?”
“Of course,” she says as she licks at her upper lip with the tip of her tongue.
That gets my attention, and my cock makes it painfully clear it would deeply appreciate the same treatment. I’ve been to enough weddings to know just how spectacularly a wedding photographer can derail a perfectly good event schedule, and figure I’ve got time to blow off some steam and still be back before photos are done.
“Are you planning to finish that?” I ask, nodding toward the glass of clear liquid and ice in her hand.
“Do you have something more diverting in mind?”
“I do.” And taking a long sip of my drink, I mentally go through the many reasons it’s a really bad idea. Then I ignore every single one. “How’s your sense of adventure?”
She lifts an eyebrow and swallows the last of her drink. “Just so happens, I could use a little adrenaline rush right about now.”
Setting my unfinished drink on the table, I reach for her hand and help her to her feet. I lead her through the lobby and down a small hallway to a private bathroom. Owning the hotel has more than a few perks. Not that I’ve ever availed myself of this one before.
As soon as we’re through the door, I push her up against the vanity and whisper, “Still looking for adventure?”
She looks at me in the mirror and smiles wide. “Hell, yeah.”
This is probably the single most stupid thing I’ve done in my life.
But my own adrenaline is pumping and I’m feeling selfish. And fuck, I’m young and single, and I’d be an idiot to walk away from an opportunity like this.
5
Georgia
Our gazes lock in the bathroom mirror as he slides his left hand up my belly and between my breasts before gripping my right shoulder. His free hand hikes the skirt of my dress above my waist, and as it trails down the curve of my ass, I spread my legs to give him the access I so desperately need. God, it’s been so long.
Using his hip, he pins me against the vanity and slides first one, then two fingers deep into my dripping pussy. I can’t believe how turned on I am by the whole scene. I actually thought I would chicken out before we’d even made it out of the hotel bar.
His fingers drive in and out, relentless and unyielding, as they work over my G-spot. And just when I’m ready to explode, his fingers disappear. One moment I’m on the brink of a perfectly spectacular orgasm, the next—nothing. Everything stops, and he’s gone.
My eyes fly open—when had I closed them?
I watch him in the mirror as he pulls a condom from his wallet. His trousers are undone and open. His cock is free and pulsing rhythmically. My pussy clenches, and I can feel my juices trickling down my inner thigh as he rolls on the condom.
Standing behind me, he places the tip of his cock at my entrance.
I
must be completely nuts, letting a complete stranger fuck me at my father’s wedding. But here I am, and my heart thumps hard against my chest from excitement and a little fear.
Then he grabs my hips and drives in so deep nothing else matters. I gasp and suck in my bottom lip as he fills me.
His hands slide up my body, firmly cupping my breasts and pinching my nipples hard as he fucks me in long, ruthless thrusts.
Pressing his chest against my back, he growls in my ear. “If you’re a good girl, I might let you come.”
Holy shit, his commanding silence earlier had been sexy, but that growl of his makes my knees weak.
He lets go of my breasts and grabs my hair as he pulls out of me. What the fuck? That’s twice he’d frustrated me and I’m not sure if I love it or hate it.
“Good girls do as they’re told. Are you a good girl?”
Not really, but I can fake it. “Yes.”
“On your knees.”
He guides me to the cold tile floor, his grip tightening on my hair as he traces my lips with his condom-clad cock. “Open.”
I do. But only because I want to. I want to feel the power that goes with having a man’s vulnerability between my teeth. That his pleasure or pain was ultimately mine to give. I suck on the head, my juices mercifully masking the taste of latex. God, I hate blowing a sheathed cock. It’s like sucking a balloon covered lollipop.
If it were bare, I’d make a meal of it. I’d lick his cock from root to tip, over and over, then swirl my tongue around the crown, teasing him until he begs me to suck. But it’s not, so I’m determined to get this over with as quickly as possible, so we can get back to the main event. And my orgasm.
I bob my head up and down, careful not to go too far. I can deep throat with the best of them, but I can’t stand the feeling of the tip of the condom at the back of my throat.
