Losing Control: 2

by Tina Donahue

  You have to tell him. Here. Now. Before you hurt him as Alexa said.

  Wanting to die, Catherine lifted her face to his.

  “What?” Tim asked, his smile fading. He ran his knuckles down her cheek.

  Oh god. His touch defeated her best intentions for the truth. He was so beautiful, his expression so open and trusting, Catherine couldn’t find the words to destroy that. Always, she wanted to remember him like this, eager to be with her, liking who he thought she was.

  “Hey, tell me,” he said. “Did something happen with your—”

  “No, she’s sleeping. We had a good visit. She’s okay, really. I…” She hesitated, then murmured, “It was so nice of you to offer to stay here.”

  “I don’t want you to worry.”

  “I won’t.” Catherine lowered her face to hide her emotions and kissed his palm, wishing she could capture and hold this moment forever. “Let me check in on her one last time, then we should leave.”

  “Wait, don’t go just yet,” Tim said. “Let me take a look at you first.” With her hands in his, he held them out and stepped back.

  She’d worn a calf-length leather skirt—its fit snug with a daring slit up the side—an angora sweater in cream with a cowl neck, high-heel boots and a leather bomber jacket. It and the skirt were a deep brown shade, the same as her hair.

  Tim mouthed “wow”, just as he had at the holiday party.

  Catherine beamed, unable to help herself. “You approve?”

  “Hell yeah.” He kissed her temple again, then whispered in her ear, “At least until we arrive at our destination and you strip to skin.”

  Her body weakened at the thought. She breathed, “Am I going to be doing that?”

  “Not until you say goodbye to your aunt. Go on.” he released her and grinned. “I’ll be here waiting for you.”

  Catherine backed toward the hall, not wanting to lose sight of him, somehow afraid if she did, he’d disappear or would lose that awesome smile, replacing it with shock, dismay, disdain.

  I like you. God help me, I shouldn’t, but I do.

  He winked. Catherine whimpered in pleasure, like the giddy teen she’d never allowed herself to be.

  One of the nurses approached Tim, holding out her tray of sugar cookies designed to resemble snowflakes. “Well now, you look hungry,” she teased.

  His face reddened a bit, but he kept his cool. As he exchanged pleasantries with the plump woman, Catherine forced herself to stop gaping at him and headed for Opal’s room.

  It was furnished in the Victorian style Opal loved, the dresser and nightstands were frothy as could be, a beautiful buff color with intricate carvings. If not for the monitors near the equally grand bed, the casual observer would never have guessed it was hospital-issue. Earlier in the week, Catherine had decorated the lovely room with holiday decorations. Not the fancy kind from department stores…ones she’d made. On top of the dresser was a small pine tree, reminiscent of the one Opal had bought their first Christmas together. On its branches, Catherine had hung paper ornaments she’d colored after her evening with a senator.

  Opal was still asleep. Far too thin, she looked sadly old, her short curls mostly gray, her ebony complexion dull. Catherine crossed the room as quietly as she could and took the woman’s hand, troubled that it was so frail, her skin papery. As a child, Catherine believed the woman could do anything. She’d seemed so strong, so invincible.

  She couldn’t lose her. Not yet. Not ever.

  Pressing the back of Opal’s hand against her cheek, Catherine whispered, “The guy I told you about just showed up. He’s waiting for me now.” Until this moment, Catherine had feared Tim wouldn’t keep their date even as she knew it would have been the best outcome for them both. “He really likes me. He told his friends that. He wanted to come in here and meet you, help me keep you company so I wouldn’t worry while I’m gone. He’s a good man.”

  Opal’s features remained slack, untroubled.

  Catherine prayed the woman was dreaming of something pleasant, that she felt no discomfort or pain. She kissed the tips of Opal’s fingers, still calloused from years of hard work.

  Always she’d had to struggle so hard. When Opal had insisted Catherine try for a scholarship to attend college, she’d refused, wanting to help with the bills, working whatever jobs she could after high school. When she was twenty, she’d met Joel at a call center. He gave his notice shortly after she started. Months later, he contacted Catherine, telling her about the agency, the money she could make. Enough to attend Georgetown, take care of herself and Opal without anyone’s help or charity.

  Not that Opal knew the truth. Catherine told her that she made the money as a parts model, wearing shoes, watches, necklaces for print advertisements, her face never photographed. A few times she’d found ads where she could have been the model and presented them proudly. Although Opal had believed her, she kept insisting that Catherine didn’t have to give her any money. Catherine couldn’t stop, not wanting the woman to have to work again or worry about anything. She’d moved Opal into a better apartment in a nicer neighborhood. This should have been the best time of her life.

  She forced down a swallow and whispered, “I’ll be back later to check in on you.” It was against the center’s rules, however, the lavish gratuities Catherine offered the staff allowed her to come and go as she pleased. “I love you.”

  Resisting the urge to hug the woman, afraid she might hurt her, Catherine kissed Opal’s forehead and backed out of the room, finally leaving it as quietly as she’d entered.

  In the foyer, Tim was licking his thumb, no doubt to get the last of the sugar from the cookie he’d just eaten.

  He looked so innocent, a wave of tenderness washed over Catherine. She smiled.

  The nurse remained at his side as they continued to converse in low tones. No doubt about Opal, with Tim asking if she was truly all right.

  The nurse kept patting his arm reassuringly.

  On Catherine’s approach, Tim turned, his blond hair looking lighter with his sudden blush, his expression that of a kid who’d been busted.

  The nurse scurried away. Touched by his sweet concern for Opal, Catherine didn’t want to embarrass him further, so she asked, “Ready for our night…or do you want some hot chocolate to go with your cookie, little boy?”

  He arched one eyebrow. “Little?”

  Catherine gave him a coquettish grin. “You’re right.” She dipped her face, glancing at his fly, the luscious bulge behind it. “I stand corrected.”

  “You will.” On that sexy promise, he took her hand and murmured, “By the way, I gave that nurse the name of the District’s top physical therapist. Told her to have this place call Matt, get him over here. He won’t refuse or bankrupt you with his fee, we’re friends from way back. He’ll be reasonable, trust me, and will have Opal on her feet again.” Tim kissed the back of Catherine’s hand and headed for the front doors.

  She held back. Burl Ives’ gravelly voice came over the sound system with his peppy rendition of Frosty the Snowman.

  Tim looked over. “Something wrong?”

  Her lies, what else? When he was being so kind. He’d offered the services of one of his friends to help Opal. He was going to make certain it wouldn’t cost too much. Had he been this giving with Fantine before she’d lied and hurt him so badly? Had she done so innocently or deliberately? Or had she simply not cared about the outcome, more concerned with what she needed?

  Tim raised his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer to his question.

  What Catherine needed to say stuck in her throat. She mumbled, “Where are we going?”

  “Exactly where you said.”

  Huh? “I don’t recall specifying a place.”

  “Actually, you did.” He leaned into her and murmured, “You insisted on something wild.”

  A rush of warmth settled in her pussy, driving away her previous unease, replacing it with raw lust and a need so great she didn’t want to resist
. “Define wild.”

  He gave her another wink. “You’ll see.”

  Catherine expected Tim to take her to his pricey townhouse in Georgetown, an address she knew by heart thanks to his agency file. They bypassed the area and headed in another direction. Piles of snow hugged the sidewalks. The night was clear but frigid, fogging up the windows of his Benz.

  “Warm enough?” he asked, his palm on her thigh.

  The weight of his hand felt so wonderful and right, Catherine didn’t want to consider where all of this was headed or would end. Like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind, she’d think about it tomorrow. “Uh-huh.” She traced his fingers. He squeezed her leg gently. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  Minutes later, they approached a hotel where she’d entertained a few regulars. Oh shit. Its staff would recognize her. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe, afraid that one of them would greet her with too much familiarity. That wasn’t something Catherine worried about with her clients. They were savvy enough not to notice her at all if they somehow showed up at the same function. However, the hotel employees might not be as smooth. What would Tim think if one of them was too friendly?

  Catherine looked at him. Already, he was watching her, his car stopped at a red light.

  “Nope,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. “We’re not going to a hotel. Not wild enough.”

  Clearly, he’d never been in one with a call girl like her.

  “A gentleman’s club?” she asked, then had an awful thought. What if he wanted to show her off to his acquaintances, some of whom she might have already been with? “Your club?” she blurted.

  He laughed, a rich full sound that made her insides quiver.

  “No,” he said through his laughter. “Not my club…unless you want to take a steam bath with the guys.”

  She’d done that and far more. She pinched his wrist gently. “Where? Tell me or I’ll make you bleed.”

  Tim brought back his hand. “You’ll just have to trust me. Think you can do that? I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  His concern for her well-being undid Catherine, making her feel like shit for having lied to him. For continuing to do so. “Tim, I have to tell you something.”

  He looked from the street to her and back when the car behind them honked, alerting him to the now green light. “Sure. What?”

  Tell him, tell him, tell him.

  “Catherine?”

  She moaned.

  “What is it?” he asked, sounding worried.

  That was almost as bad as the shock and anger Catherine knew would come once she’d revealed everything, followed by the worst—his indifference.

  “What?” he prodded.

  The words rushed from her. “I don’t do threesomes.”

  It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, but it was the damn truth when it came to him. She didn’t want to share herself with any other man tonight.

  Tim pulled his attention from the road, his eyes wide, downright incredulous. “How about group sex?”

  Group what? Catherine wasn’t certain whether he was kidding her or not. As warm as it was in the vehicle, her toes and fingers went cold again just as they had at the convalescent center. “I’m definitely not into that.”

  He huffed in what sounded like disappointment and brought his car to another halt at the next red light. Leaning over, he glanced out her window, then put on his turn signal almost as an afterthought.

  Jesus. Was he going to call off their date? Had he actually planned for them to have group sex, thinking she’d like that because of what they’d done at the party and because it was wild? What about his claim in the closet that he wouldn’t share? And his most recent promise that she could trust him—that he wouldn’t hurt her? In his mind, did that mean he’d gone through the trouble of approving the people he’d invited along for the fun? She grabbed his coat sleeve. “What are you doing?”

  “Driving.” The light went green. He made his turn.

  “To where? You said you wanted a date with me. At no time did you say anything about anyone else participating.”

  “Participating?”

  “Yeah, you know, like an orgy.”

  “Define orgy.”

  Was he serious? “You going at females who aren’t me, while I’m doing the same with guys who aren’t you.”

  “Ah…thanks for the explanation.”

  She punched his biceps. “You’re putting me on again.”

  His grin produced a dimple. “You’re just so easy, not to mention uptight.” Sobering, he turned to her. “Didn’t I say I wouldn’t hurt you?”

  Her concern evaporated, replaced by shame. She took his hand and brought his palm to her lips, kissing it.

  Tim curled his fingers, the blunt tips touching her cheek. “Did you get burned recently by a guy?”

  She kept her mouth pressed to his palm and shook her head.

  “Sometime in the past?”

  “Never,” she answered.

  “Okay…then why so cautious?”

  Catherine lowered his hand, keeping it on her lap. “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t believe anything good will really last.”

  He was quiet a moment, then, “Because you lost your parents?”

  At the reminder of her manufactured past, Catherine stiffened.

  “Opal’s problems too?” he added.

  “Maybe.”

  “Trust me, tonight’s just beginning and it won’t end badly. Here we are.”

  He brought his car to a halt in front of a stately stone building, as wide as a city block, three stories high, of the Beaux Arts French style with plenty of cornices and embellishments. The snowy landscape complemented the structure’s gray façade, making it appear even more like a castle. Although Catherine had lived in the District all of her life, she’d never seen this particular place.

  Before she could ask any questions, a parking valet opened Tim’s door. He removed his overcoat, tossing it in the backseat, and came around to her side. “You might want to leave your jacket and purse in here,” he said.

  Really? Catherine put them on her seat and handed her cell phone to Tim. “Just in case the facility calls about Opal.”

  He put the phone in his inside jacket pocket and offered her his hand.

  Catherine laced her fingers through his. “What is this place?”

  He leaned down to her ear and whispered, “A wild time. Come on.”

  At the entrance, Tim offered a small plastic card to a young man dressed in a black turtleneck and pants, the same as the parking valet. The chandeliered foyer opened up into what appeared to be an ordinary nightclub. Maroon 5’s Moves Like Jagger pounded so loud, Catherine felt the beat in her belly. The high ceiling and mirrored walls flashed intermittently with a vivid range of hues. Spotlights swept over the crowd, young men and women dancing as if their lives depended upon it.

  In the partially shadowed corners, a few of the couples were exchanging tongues, their hands groping. At the tables, other patrons enjoyed their drinks.

  “This is wild?” Catherine shouted at Tim, liking it…relieved by it.

  He gave her a knowing smile and yelled, “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “What do you mean—whoa.”

  Despite her shout, he didn’t stop. With his arm around her waist, Tim pulled her onto the dance floor, then held her close, his lean hips pumping into hers, all sexy and male.

  Catherine laughed. “Wow, you can really dance.”

  “What?”

  The music fairly screeched, not allowing conversation. “Never mind,” she mouthed and matched his moves, then ran her hands down his pecs, feeling the tiny points of his nipples beneath his sweater.

  In response, Tim cupped her ass, pulling her into him, wanting her to feel his erection.

  Catherine wondered if part of the scene here was to screw on the dance floor. If it were, she wouldn’t have denied Tim. She wanted him that badly, inte
nding to show him how much. Running her fingers down his torso, she worked her hand between their bodies, heading for his fly, touching him there.

  Tim stopped pumping his hips.

  The piece ended. Another began, this one a spirited new song by Katy Perry. With her face lifted to his, Catherine ran her fingers down his rod, then cupped his balls.

  Tim hauled in a breath.

  That’s it, baby. Enjoy.

  She fondled his balls and ran her thumb over his cock. Tim kept holding his breath, then blowing it out. Even without the spotlight on them, Catherine could see his complexion growing ruddy, his expression saying he was ready to explode. Before she went too far and they both lost it, she turned in his arm and moved her ass against his groin in time to the music.

  Tim took a moment to catch up. When he did, he pumped from behind and brushed her hair to the side, then kissed that sensitive area behind her ear.

  A rush of sensation shot from Catherine’s neck to her breasts and pussy. She moaned.

  The couples surrounding them didn’t notice the sound or what she and Tim were doing. Their moves were as brazen, their lust overpowering.

  It was no match for hers. The beat thumped in Catherine’s blood. She grew lightheaded, her skin heated, damp with perspiration as they danced and danced, for hours it seemed. On one of the few slow songs— the most recent release by Adele—Tim kissed Catherine deeply, his passion both tender and rough, as though he couldn’t make up his mind. By the time the piece ended, they were clinging to each other, fighting for breath and control

  Tim brushed her ear with his lips. “Hungry?”

  With him, always. She pressed closer and whispered, “Yeah. What did you have in mind?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Two of the most beautiful words in the English language. Given the size of this place and its other floors, Catherine figured there were bedrooms upstairs, like a hotel. She expected Tim to lead her back to the foyer, where she presumed the staircase or elevators were.

  He didn’t. He went deeper into this room, shouldering his way past the other patrons, stopping near one of the mirrored walls. Catherine’s reflection showed her mussed hair, heightened color, the animal craving in her eyes. One of the club’s staff smiled at them.