by M. Leighton
Slowly, I shake my hair, left long and wavy, back over my shoulders. I slide one thin strap of my dress down. It’s a nude color so I don’t think anyone below could tell what I’m doing even if they bothered to look. But I can’t be sure. And that’s part of why my stomach is in a knot of nervous excitement.
I’m turned on by the prospect of what I’m initiating. I feel the warmth already gathering between my legs, making my panties feel dewy.
I pull on my bodice just enough to free one breast. Never taking my eyes off Alec where he stands at my side, I reach over with one hand and trace his bottom lip with my finger. It relaxes enough that I can slip inside. I drag the tip along the straight edge of his teeth until I feel the brush of his tongue, hot and slick.
I remove my wet finger and trace a damp circle around my nipple. It puckers in response. When Alec’s eyes leave mine and drop to my hand, I give my nipple a little pinch, feeling the sensation all the way down to my core. I know he likes that.
Alec’s eyes return to mine and he straightens. I don’t know what his expression means—something fierce, something not quite in control—but I’m not afraid of it. I’m not afraid of him, even in this state. I just want him to share it with me. Give me a chance to help him like he’s trying to help me.
“Do you know what I want?” I ask, starting with the word play that he’s so, so good at. I’m not surprised when he doesn’t answer. I massage my breast with one hand and let my other trail down my stomach to the short hem of my cocktail dress. I bunch it between my fingers, hiking it up until I can get underneath it.
“What’s that?” he asks finally, his voice husky.
“I want to feel your tongue. Right here,” I say as I run my palm over my damp panties. “With your friends right down there.”
Alec moves in front of me to grab my wrist and still my hand. “No, you don’t.”
“But I do.”
His fingers tighten almost painfully as he squeezes my wrist. “I wouldn’t be stopping tonight. And I’d have to keep you still. And it might scare you,” he grinds out threateningly.
Warmth sweeps through me, making me feel breathless and lightheaded and the tiniest bit anxious. I swallow and it feels like there’s cotton in my throat. “I don’t care.”
Alec’s lips thin. “I told you now’s not a good time, Samantha. I’m warning you.”
He’s giving me one last chance to abandon this. Instead, I abandon my one last chance.
“I know,” I say, turning my wrist until my fingers are on top of his. I urge his hand down between my legs. “I know,” I repeat.
Alec makes a rumbling sound right before he takes my lips in a searing kiss. It’s rough and it’s brutal and it’s raw. And it’s everything I want from him because it’s honest. And he’s sharing it with me. With me.
I reach up with one hand and thread my fingers into his hair, grinding our lips together. His tongue tangles with mine and then I feel his teeth sink into my bottom lip before he pulls away. I taste blood, but I don’t care. I see Alec’s eyes fall to my mouth. I know he sees what he did to me. He’s too angry to care at the moment. And I’m too desperate.
I don’t want him to stop. He needs this. And I want to give it to him.
I drag my tongue along my lip, licking up the blood. Alec’s eyes flit up to mine and I see the last little bit of his grip loosen.
He drops to his knees and roughly pushes my legs apart. His eyes are looking up into mine, daring me to ask him to stop. But I won’t. And I won’t look away.
He pushes my dress up toward my hands. I grasp it with my fingers, holding on tight. He jerks my panties down my legs. I hear the crackle of seams splitting, but I don’t care. I lift one foot then the other, stepping out of the torn garment and kicking it to the side. I spread my legs to him.
Alec’s lip curls up in a cool smile as he stands. “Not tonight,” he says harshly.
He winds his fingers around my upper arms and pivots until his back is against the short wall. His eyes remain locked on mine as he pushes me away from him, releasing one of my arms and reaching down to unbutton and unzip his pants. Excitement floods me. This isn’t something he’s done before. He never lets me play with him much. It’s as if he’s always punishing himself by holding out.
“Tonight,” he continues, “I wanna see those beautiful lips sucking my cock.”
I reach down and push his hand aside, stroking the moist satiny head of him with my fingertip. His eyes are nearly black, the pupils dilated with passion and fury.
It’s my turn to drop to my knees. I palm his throbbing base and run my tongue around the crown. I touch him with my fingers, I lick him with my tongue and I suck him with my lips.
Alec fists his fingers in my hair and pushes my head down as he flexes his hips, forcing himself into my mouth. I slide him deep into my throat, trying to take as much of him as I can, which isn’t nearly the entirety. I hear his heavy breathing as he thrusts between my lips once, twice and then he pulls back.
I glance up at him in question. He looks furious. And wild.
Alec drops to his knees in front of me and pushes me back until I’m lying on the floor in front of him. Just looking at him in his tux shirt and bow tie, his pants undone and my saliva still glistening on the tip of him, makes me want him more than ever. This is my glimpse at what Alec tries so hard to hide from me.
Roughly, he spreads my legs. His eyes are still on mine when he slides one long finger inside me. I bite my lip to keep my gasp inside. He withdraws that finger and slips it into his mouth, licking it clean before he lays it across his lips and says, “Shh.”
He flips my dress up until I’m lying exposed before him. He bends until his lips touch my abdomen. I feel the flicker of his tongue as he makes his way to my navel and then lower. I feel his fingers part my folds before I feel the first hot stab of his tongue against me. I take a deep breath and focus on being quiet as he begins to lick and suck me into a frenzy.
My fingers are fisted in my dress and my hips are bucking against Alec’s face as he flicks my clitoris with his tongue. My chest is tight and the deepest part of my belly is aching for him when he slides two fingers inside me, pumping them quickly in and out. I feel on the verge of bursting when he stops.
I look down at Alec, confused, until I see him push his pants further down and move to stretch out on top of me.
“You will come all over my cock,” he orders as he reaches between us to finger my entrance. “And then you’re gonna keep coming while I fill you up. Do you understand?”
I nod, my body already sucking at him to thrust into me.
And then he does. Alec pushes into me as his lips cover mine, his tongue dragging the sweet taste of my own body into my mouth. He pauses inside me, stretching me tight. The pleasure is so intense that I lose my breath for a second on a moan.
He pulls out and thrusts into me again, harder and deeper. I feel more sound bubble up into my throat, but Alec’s hand is there, covering my mouth, his fingers biting into my cheeks.
“Not one sound,” he hisses quietly, moving in and out again, faster and faster.
With every thrust, the tension, now so familiar to me, grows. Second by second, the world disappears until only Alec and I exist. Alec and I and all that’s between us—all the possibility, all the passion, all the potential.
I’m on the brink of explosion when, with his hand still over my lips, Alec dips his head and pulls my nipple into his mouth. Sensation shoots through me and lands where he’s buried within me. And then I feel his teeth. He bites me lightly and grinds his hips into mine, pushing me right over the edge. A scream is lodged in my chest when I hear Alec whisper, “That’s right, baby. Let go and come for me.”
And I do.
Fireworks detonate behind my eyelids to rain fire through my body. I open my mouth to cry out, but Alec’s hand smothers the sound. Without thinking, I bite down on his finger. I hear his own gasp and he stiffens. I feel him throb inside me as hot fl
uid pours from him into me, making my body contract more forcefully around him. He likes that.
His last two thrusts are long, slow, and hard, hard enough to make me feel like he’s driving me into the floor. My body milks his until neither of us has anything left to give.
I turn my head enough to escape Alec’s hand, gasping for air as the world settles softly down around us like a cocoon of perfect tranquility. There are no other sounds, no other people. Just bliss. And Alec. And me.
I barely hear his low voice when he speaks, but I feel the movement of his lips against my neck where his face is nuzzled. “We’ve got a thing for balconies.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. My heart is overflowing.
“Yes, we do.”
After a few more seconds, Alec lifts his head and looks into my eyes. With one hand, he reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. Gone is the anger, replaced now with a quiet concern. “All good?”
I’m sure my smile reflects the brightness I feel in my soul. “All good.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR- Alec
I’m getting ready to move Samantha’s arm and climb out of bed when she finally speaks. I thought she was asleep. That’s the only reason I’m still here. I always wait for her to go to sleep before I leave the room.
“What happened to you, Alec?”
Her question catches me off guard. Since Alyssa, I haven’t let anyone close enough to think that my past is anything less than perfect.
Until Samantha.
Or maybe it just takes one twisted person to recognize another.
I think I’m more comfortable with that explanation.
Regardless, I have no intention of answering her. I don’t talk about Alyssa.
Ever.
“Go to sleep,” I whisper, stroking her hair.
She’s quiet for a while, but she’s not fooling me. I can tell by her breathing that she’s very much awake.
“Why won’t you tell me? I’ve told you everything you wanted to know, answered every question you’ve asked and—”
“But this isn’t about me, is it?” I ask coolly, disentangling myself from her and sliding off the edge of the bed.
“So that’s it?” she asks, sitting up in bed, the sheet falling away from the skyward-pointing tips of her breasts. “I’m in this all alone? You’re just here for the therapy. Is that it?”
I turn toward her, meeting her gaze, knowing she won’t like what she sees. “I’ve told you from the beginning. I’ve been honest. I’ve warned you not to get attached.”
Her expression is a combination of hurt and indignation. “Oh and it’s just that easy, right? Just don’t get attached. Let someone in, pour your heart out to them, trust them, give them your body and soul, but don’t get attached. Oh, okay,” she snaps, flinging back the covers. “I get it.”
She starts jerking on clothes, so I make my way down to the living room for a drink. I’m sitting on the couch listening to the hiss of the gas logs in the fireplace when Samantha hits the bottom step.
I see anger in every line of her body—squared shoulders, straight spine, clenched fists—and, if she were anyone else, I’d use that anger. I’d use it to slake my own passions. I’d engage her in a battle of wills. And I’d win. I’d bend her until she broke. Just like I like it.
But not with Samantha. I promised I’d help her, not pull her into my world. Even though I feel sure I could make her like it once she got over her fear.
I grind my teeth, fighting the hard-on that’s rising up at the thought of breaking her.
It would be so sweet, so deliciously sweet…
I push the thought from my head and concentrate on the moment. And how that can’t happen.
“Your car isn’t here,” I state matter-of-factly.
I hear her huff, knowing that her grand exit has just been ruined. Having to ask for a ride is hardly dramatic.
“God, you really just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
But I do. She thinks I can’t help being cold and emotionless, being an asshole. Maybe she’s right.
She makes a half growl, half scream of frustration and turns to head to the garage. “Take me home,” she demands as she passes me.
“Yes, ma’am,” I mutter sarcastically, setting my glass on the table and shutting off the logs.
The drive is uncomfortable to say the least. Well for her anyway. I’m just ready for some rest. I’m working on a headache and it’s doing nothing to improve my mood.
“You know, of all the things I suspected you might be, a coward wasn’t one of them.”
I exhale and tighten my grip on my temper. I don’t respond to her.
“You’re all commanding and in control. You make demands of other people, but it’s all just an attempt to hide the fact that you’re afraid. Whatever else can be said about me, at least I finally took the risk. I had the balls to actually trust someone with my secrets. I guess it’s just unfortunate that the person I trusted them with is nothing more than a child in a man’s clothing. I’d hide, too, if I was nothing but a scared, little—”
“Enough!” I shout, my voice sounding harsh in the quiet of the cabin.
“What’s the matter, Alec? Dr. Buraquinho? Did I hit a nerve? Has no one ever called you on your bullshit before? Were you a bed-wetter? Were you the smelly kid in class?”
I know she’s hurt and angry, and I know she’s just lashing out, but for some reason I find her attack infuriating. I’ve treated her well, been considerate of her fears and her past, and to have her say these things is…is… Damn, it’s maddening!
“Be very careful, Samantha,” I warn steadily, my knuckles aching from holding the steering wheel so tightly.
“Why? What are you gonna do? Tie me to the bed and spank me? No, you’d like that too much. You’re no better than—”
“Would you like to know why I am the way I am? Why I warn girls like you to stay away from me? Because I’m dangerous, that’s why.” Gripped by rage, but also tired of always hiding and burying the thing that haunts me most, I pull off the highway and slam the Range Rover into park. I turn my furious gaze on Samantha. “You wanna know what happened to the last girl that I let go with? The last person who saw me when I wasn’t in control? Well, I would give you her phone number, but she wouldn’t answer. She’s dead. She’s fuc—”
Samantha’s gasp cuts into my mad tirade. Her eyes are wide with fear and pain. I look down and realize my fingers are wound around her upper arms, biting into her flesh. Like I’ve grabbed something hot, I let her go and push her back into her seat. My chest is heaving, my breath coming faster in my anger and emotion. It’s still rolling through me like an uncontrollable wave, a wave that I’m always fighting. Always.
I force myself to relax into my seat, letting my head fall back and my eyes drift shut. I concentrate on taking deep, slow breaths. We sit this way for several minutes before Samantha dares to speak.
“What happened to her?” Her voice is small, afraid. As it should be.
“I killed her, Samantha,” I grind between my gritted teeth. I lift my head and pin her with my disgusted gaze. “For just a few minutes, I wasn’t in control and I killed my girlfriend. I didn’t mean to, but do you think that makes me feel any better about it? Huh?” Samantha is shrinking back in her seat, against the door, her expression a mixture of emotion. And I hate every one of them. “What’s the matter? Not the answer you thought you’d get? You wanted me to tell you all about me. Well, there it is. So what now? Huh? What now? Where do we go from here? How do you suggest we proceed, Dr. Drake? In all of your infinite wisdom from writing tall tales about twisted vampires and helpless maids, what would you suggest I do to rid myself of this curse?”
Her troubled gray eyes are glistening with tears as she shakes her head. Her chin trembles, making me even more furious.
“How are you a…a doctor? Why aren’t you in prison?” she whispers.
I laugh. It’s a
gush of the bitterness that’s eating at my soul. “Oh, I should be. In prison that is. But what happens when you’re the seventeen-year-old son of one of the most influential surgeons in all of Seattle is that you can afford the best lawyers money can buy. And those lawyers can convince people to take it easy on such an outstanding student with such a bright future. Even though it was an accident, by all rights, my life should’ve been ruined. But it wasn’t. Instead, it was all sealed up in a file when I turned eighteen and I went on with my plans like it never happened. But Alyssa didn’t. She couldn’t. Her life was over that night and she couldn’t go on. All the king’s men couldn’t put her back together again.”
I pound the steering wheel and slam my head back against the head rest, willing myself to calm down. My heart is jackhammering against my ribs and my skull is throbbing like something is trying to bust out of it.
“But it was an accident?” she asks quietly after several minutes, needing reassurance.
“Does it really matter, Samantha? She’s dead. To her, the circumstances don’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Why those four words should penetrate the turmoil roiling in my gut is beyond me. But they do. I lift my head and look over at Samantha—this woman who I thought might give me some insight; this woman who I thought, in the deepest, darkest, most secret parts of my soul, might be able to help me—and I see someone desperate to believe the best in me. Even after all I just told her, she’s ready to believe something positive. All I have to do is throw it her way.
“Yes, it was an accident.”
“What happened?”
I feel drained all of a sudden. Tired of fighting. Tired of hiding. Tired of lying and pretending that I’m something I’m not. I’m a monster. Plain and simple. There’s something wrong with me. I’m messed up. Profoundly messed up. Maybe hiding it was never the answer.
“Alyssa and I started dating when I was a junior and she was a senior. She was from a well-to-do family, much like mine. Her father was in politics. And, just like most families, hers had its fair share of secrets. One was a dirty uncle that had a fondness for blondes.
