He peeled the damp sheets from his body and swung his feet to the floor. With his head in his hands, he breathed deep, attempting to snuff the blood-curdling sounds into silence. His head throbbed like a jackhammer. He’d overdone it. Let himself get too close to the edge again.
As he chased the calm, an eerie feeling came over him. Something wasn’t right. He shuffled his feet along the floor and opened his eyes. Shifting his gaze down to the carpet, he realized he wasn’t at home.
The dawn filtered softly through sheer white curtains. He turned to view the extravagantly decorated, female-influenced room. The bed with a padded cushion-like headboard and at the foot sat a tufted bench for dressing.
A sick feeling turned his gut. What had he done? Stinging eyes shifted down in terror. He exhaled in relief. He was still wearing his white t-shirt and black boxer briefs.
“What the fuck?” He groaned, lifted his head, and noticed his wallet and phone sitting on the round white nightstand next to fresh pink roses in a square vase. Swiping the phone, he pushed the button to illuminate the time. 6:48 a.m.
“Fuck!” he yelled, scrambling to get moving. He’d never make the eight o’clock meeting with Don Miller and Ryan Digmore. The door creaked open, and he swung around. Shane peeked in. Oh, shit. What did he tell her?
“I thought I heard something.”
“What the hell, Shane?” He searched for his clothes.
“Over there.” She pointed to the vintage high back purple chair in the corner where his suit rested. “You passed out.”
“But why am I here?” Infuriated, he stormed over to the chair, snatching his slacks.
“I thought you might not remember.” He could feel her gaze on him as he tugged on a pant leg. “Kelly drove you home, but you fought us when we tried to get your keys. The only logical thing to do was bring you here and let you sleep it off in the guest room.”
The zipper caught his finger when he glared at her. He pushed his arms through his shirtsleeves and grabbed his coat, tie, and shoes. He stormed past her and stomped down the long hall. When he found the living room, he sat on the couch.
She followed, her maroon pleated skirt swaying around her legs as she handed him his wallet and phone. “You forgot something.” A hint of laughter twitched her lips.
His blood boiled with the desire to berate her for stepping over the line. She should have left him. He snatched the items from her hand and threw them on the table.
“Coffee?” She grinned.
“No.” His stomach turned over at the thought.
“Aspirin?” She walked into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of pain relievers and water.
He swiped them and swallowed the pills. “How the hell did I get undressed?” Assembling pieces from the night before, he tightened the laces of his shoe.
“I may have...” His eyes grew as big as saucers as she continued poking the bear. “I thought you would like a freshly pressed suit for your meeting this morning.”
“What? How did you…?”
Use your words, Gavin. He was all over the place. She’d thrown him off his game, and he needed to gain some semblance of control to put her back in her place.
“I have your calendar, remember?” She smiled again.
No humor existed within as he tucked in his shirt and stretched his suspenders over his shoulders. What could he say other than unleashing years of resentment on her?
He swiped up the last of his items and stormed toward the door of her apartment. Before he had a chance to exit, she said, “See ya at the office, dear.”
A rush of obscenities halted behind gritted teeth before the door slammed behind him.
The glass door of Omega Records whooshed open when Shane bounced through on five-inch heels. Score one for Shane. Turning the tables on Gavin had never felt so sweet. A chipper David greeted her with a latte in hand. “Good morning, doll!”
“Hey, sweetie. Absolutely owning that suit today.” She perused his dark purple suit with blue plaid designs and a vest to match. They walked the decorated corridor lined with platinum records and autographed pictures courtesy of Omega’s musicians. Even after all her years of hard work, a flash of accomplishment still surfaced when she walked these halls. She straightened the last platinum record plaque outside her office door. Yep, still amazing. She sighed inwardly.
“Was there ever a doubt? So, how’d the stalker event go last night?”
“It was fine,” she answered plainly. She set her portfolio and purse on the desk.
“I heard Gavin was upset this morning.”
She removed her cream wool coat and scarf and hung both in the closet. “Really? I wouldn’t know.” Shielded by a poker face, she busied herself at the desk.
David sat in the visitor’s chair, holding his coffee. Slowly, he put his hand down on the armrest. “Tasha received a frantic call from Mr. Compelling a little after seven, asking her to change his meeting time with Don Miller. The man never misses a meeting.”
She leaned back in her chair. It killed her to not share the overwrought version of Gavin she witnessed this morning. “David, I have no idea why he would be upset. We had a couple drinks, and he left.”
He scanned her face over his black-rimmed glasses. His lips formed a line. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with him.”
“I did not sleep with him! What do you take me for?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Damn. I thought you would have. I would love to hear stories about how that man is in bed.”
“You ain’t kidding,” she blurted out, reminiscing about Gavin dressing this morning. His underwear hugged all the right places. Hung like a freaking horse. And what was it about a man in a white t-shirt? She shivered as goosebumps rose on her arms.
“Mmmhmm. I thought so.” He leaned forward in his chair. “You like him.”
“No way. This is all part of the plan.” A telltale blush crept up her neck. She couldn’t even deny the effect he had on her. There was still so much to learn about his secrets and Nicolette.
“You’re turning red. It may be part of your plan, but you’re attracted to him.” David smiled knowingly.
“I am not!” she exclaimed and paused to take a sip of her latte. “Okay, maybe I am. But seriously, he’s hot. No denying it. Besides, I think we got somewhere last night.”
“Somewhere how?” He got comfortable, resting his right ankle on his left knee.
“He opened up a little.” A lingering jolt of warm energy shot up her arm when he’d brushed his thumb over her hand. It had been tender and electric. She inhaled, trying to catch her breath. “By the way. Could you find out when the Foo Fighters are coming to town?”
“Foo Fighters?”
“Yes, and order tickets for the pit, not the box or backstage.”
“And what are these tickets for?” he probed.
“Research.”
The cab drifted through the night traffic of New York after a fresh rain. The streetlights through the window twinkled their invitation for those searching for escape. And Shane was on her way. The Resort provided the right environment to forget her interactions with Gavin and Jacob over the last week.
With Jacob peering through what should have been the closed door of their relationship, she did her best to avoid his gravitational pull. There was nothing left, even though her heart ached to rekindle something from long ago. Stubborn as she might be, perhaps forgiveness and a second chance shouldn’t be ignored.
An incoming message pinged from her phone. Grabbing for it, she braced herself.
J: May I see you tonight?
She smiled. The streets blurred by as the vehicle kept moving toward her destination. Should she answer this time? He’d made several caring attempts to reach her. The messages started strong, confident, demanding, but as the week crept by, they’d become more inquisitive, almost gentlemanly. He was trying. But why? And why was it when people were ready to move forward did old skeletons come back to test their strength?<
br />
Seeing him opened a wound she’d thought long since healed. She appreciated his apology and insight to what their relationship meant. But it had stripped her to the core. A new understanding of what was acceptable broke free. Free to decide what choices aligned with her desires without him or anyone telling her different.
J: I miss you. We need to talk.
A shiver went through her. I miss you, too. But what was left? She had to move on and believe their recent meetings meant leaving the old Shane behind.
S: Can’t. Maybe another time.
J: Dinner this week then? No more than that. I promise.
The desire to say yes ached through her thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
J: Please, Shane. I know you’re there…
Biting her lip, she allowed her fingers to do the talking. His words sounded desperate. Needy. Curiosity coiled in her gut.
S: Okay.
She tucked the phone into her purse. It’s only dinner. That’s it…just…dinner. She swallowed her heart as it leaped into her throat.
The cab slowed to a stop at The Resort. She held her naked wrist. Rubbing her thumb over the falling star tattoo, she made herself a promise. You will no longer fall. You will only fly. Even Jacob couldn’t take her promise away. Strength flooded her insides.
She abandoned the gloves as one small step to shedding the façade she hid behind to embrace her unknown future. Her eyes fixated on the door of the club. Baby steps. Someday you will be whole again.
She tied on the white beaded mask. A shield of protection. Whatever the evening and life presented, she would go without fear.
“What can I get you?”
“Water, please.” She glanced around the room, taking residence on a stool. Patrons lounged in booths and lingered around the bar. A low hum of day-to-day conversation swarmed around her. They all appeared relaxed and ready to welcome their desires without fear. She had shaking hands and a quickening heart, a constant flutter of acute awareness prickling the hairs on her nape.
The bartender set the beverage on the bar. The ice-cold liquid calmed her temporarily.
How would she find the man from before? No name, no face… She might recognize his mask, but they were all similar. Perhaps by his extraordinary blue eyes, the ones which clouded her thoughts daily. And in a way, they’d been frighteningly familiar. The way they’d searched her dark desires and dragged out her submission from a deep sleep.
“Welcome back.” She jolted. Or maybe his voice…
Gooseflesh traveled the length of her spine to her toes. She slowly spun in her seat. There he was. All blue eyes, dark and mysterious, giving nothing away. Her eyes drifted to take in the magnificent man before her. A flattering pinstriped suit and navy-blue shirt. His towering presence made her feel small in comparison yet strangely safe. His barrel chest moved slowly as he breathed, making him appear in control and determined. The open collar at his neck displayed a thrumming pulse, which matched her level of delightful trepidation.
She peeked through her lashes as a shiver ran the length of her body. “Hello, Sir.”
The bartender set a down a beverage and scurried away. The man swallowed the amber colored liquid, keeping his plotting eyes marked on her. Or maybe questioning, she didn’t know. She squirmed, pushing her thighs together.
“Do they always know what you drink?” she inquired nervously.
“Yes.”
Setting the glass down, his arms caged her on the stool, the slate steel bar cool against her back. He traced a fingertip around the edges of her mask where it met her cheek and drifted to outline her lips. The light touch left a trail of fire in its wake as his finger skimmed her chin and the hollow of her throat.
“H-how did you know it was me?”
“Your beauty is unmistakable, and you’re wearing the color of a siren.”
His eyes traveled to the sweetheart neckline of her fire engine red mini dress followed by his touch along the contours of her breasts. They rose in response, the dress suddenly too tight.
“It was quite a show watching you walk down the stairs.”
She blushed. He was good. Really good.
She panted to survive the cocoon of sexual desire he’d woven around them. He lifted her chin with his finger. A masked face with softening eyes left her sinking further into the stool.
“You must know. A woman who is confident in the bedroom always knows her power over men.”
“I don’t pay attention.” She swallowed the dry lump in her throat. The air seemed to be his to command.
“Maybe that’s the intrigue.” The man lowered his head, lightly touching his lips to hers. Swept away, she closed her eyes to feel his commanding attention. His magnetism engulfed her. A strong but tender kiss conveyed hunger. She opened wider to feed his inner animal.
Tingles beaded along her lips as they swelled. She clutched the waistline of his pants, inviting him closer. He cupped her face. Expertly, he sucked her tongue as one hand wrapped around her nape.
He moaned, each tongue lashing coated in fire and greediness. The room faded away behind the thump, thump of her heartbeat. A promise of care and delectable sin rolled into one as the sensual attack on her mouth softened her body. A bite to her lower lip sent a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. If he gave the slightest indication he wanted to, he could fuck her right there on the bar.
But he stopped, bursts of hot breath hitting her lips.
She blinked out of cadence, and a flash of lust stared her down.
“Are you mine tonight?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, please.”
The man let loose a growl as he released her. She caught herself along the bar, blinking rapidly as she tried to steady the shifting room.
Was this guy for real? Lucky me!
“Upstairs to my room. The same one from before. Your keycard will work on the lock. Get naked and kneel in front of the bed. Five minutes.”
“Your room, Sir? Confident I’m a sure thing?” She joked till she could find her legs.
“Yes, my room. Don’t address me with questions; do as you’re told,” he scolded. She shrank. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint him. She slid off the bar stool and made her way to his room, feeling his eyes on her.
12
Shane disappeared behind the doorway, shoulders slightly slumped. She truly wanted to impress him. She conveyed a deep desire to please a man through natural submission and direct obedience when corrected. Her commitment to submit matched his need to dominate. His cock pulsed painfully under his slacks, begging to be buried inside her tight, wet cunt. Get a fucking grip. She’s a job. Nothing else.
But what the fuck was that kiss? Why did he surge beyond coherent thought? His body was doing the talking, leading him into unfamiliar territory.
He pressed the heels of his palms on the bar’s edge. His mind had short-circuited. Tossed out all agendas and plans to become CEO. A complete shutdown and reboot. The idea of savoring her like a forbidden fruit trumped any need for a title. Was he falling for her? Was he capable of it?
Her beautiful and unexpected consent after his kiss caused fire to curl in his gut. The only present thought had become: Lock her up and claim her as yours. Show her the real you. Could he have more with Shane? Could she be an ally?
“Walk away,” he said aloud, squeezing his eyes shut.
Stop this now before it’s too late.
She will fail you like everyone else.
But she can save you. Give you happiness.
“Fuck,” he whispered. The pain in his mind twisted between right and wrong on cloudy judgment. Happiness and loneliness. Power and domination.
White-knuckling the side of the bar, he refocused. Tonight, he would take out an insurance policy. Tomorrow, he would decide if he could cash it in.
One can learn many things about a person when limits are discussed, a necessary part of BDSM, so as not to exceed an area of darkness the sub wasn
’t willing to explore. Hard limits were sometimes tossed out the window to possibly be revisited if the Dom and sub continued their arrangement. But soft limits were another thing altogether. They presented the gateway to a fantasized or considered place for exploration.
Gavin tapped his chin. The monitor by the door displayed Shane’s limits under the alias, Star. Some hard limits aligned with his while others didn’t. But her soft limits painted a picture of her mind. Sent him deeper into his boss’ unexplored areas of pleasure. He zeroed in on one in particular. A perfect puzzle piece to secure his insurance policy.
He removed his jacket and turned. Her back was to him where she knelt on the floor. The base of his balls throbbed. Obviously obedient and well trained.
When he unbuckled his belt, her posture straightened. Pure pleasure flooded him. He stripped to his t-shirt, boxer briefs, and mask, thinking of the wicked way he would incorporate her soft limit.
He moved in front of her and her obsequious grace floored him. She was bare. Her soft creamy skin absorbed the blue light in the room as her nipples pebbled. Only her face was covered by a white-jeweled mask. Perfect.
“Eyes up.”
Long lashes extended beyond the mask in a demure stare. A shockwave of warmth swarmed his body, causing him to ball his hands by his side. How had he been unaware of her submissive beauty in the past? His dick pulsed, standing at full mast, as synapses fired from his brain to his toes. Her eyes flicked to the bulge in his briefs. He twitched a small smile. Yes, Shane, it will be yours as soon as I get what I want.
He observed her, keeping his silence and hardened gaze. Her breasts swelled. “Gorgeous,” he said. “Now stand.”
She listened and her skin flushed from head to toe.
“Tonight, we push. Voyeurism is listed as ‘possible’ and I’d like to try something.” Her eyes rounded in dismay. He narrowed his gaze, gauging her physical response to his request. “No. We won’t be watched by anyone. It will be recorded.”
Beyond the Masks (Beyond Love Series Book 1) Page 12
