Crimson Sunsets

by Lacee Hightower

  Yet, I had to be sensible. I’d seen it a million times. A woman wanting to give in simply to forget her past. With a notion she was ready for submission, when in fact she was anything but.

  Hartley wasn’t ready.

  Just breaking away from a long relationship, she couldn’t possibly know what she wanted. It was too soon. Plus, I promised her brother I wouldn’t hurt her.

  I made that same oath to myself.

  Refusing her submission was the right thing to do, but still, it split my gut in half watching her walk away. These feelings that were evolving had to end. My inkling that something was wrong… Fuck. Maybe the hunch I’d been having was an actuality. Then again, maybe not. Either way, I thought I owed her an explanation. That was when I sent off a quick text telling her I was coming by the clinic, hoping like hell she’d agree to see me.

  Justin, you’re not going to hurt me. I trust you but if you’re so confident that you are, then it’s simple. Draw up a contract. You told me yourself they make things simpler, so make it simple. If you hurt me then it all ends and we both walk away knowing it wasn’t meant to be.

  Those words from last night had haunted me ever since she spoke them. Simple? Nothing about this was simple.

  When she didn’t respond to my text, I didn’t give a fuck. Didn’t think that maybe she wouldn’t want to see me. So I headed to the Yates Clinic anyway, no idea what I was about to stumble onto. I just felt the need to explain.

  I never got the chance.

  I guess I pushed her back to Bruce.

  ****

  There was work I needed to contend with, but with my dick leading the goddamn way, that wasn’t going to happen. Nothing productive was going down until I lessened the immense swelling from my pounding cock. I wanted her so fucking bad I could hardly see the light of day, recollections of another man’s hands on her proving just what I was trying to deny.

  I was attached. Something was unraveling inside me, bringing on a fear so intense I couldn’t breathe.

  Jesus. Fuck.

  When she clearly didn’t feel the same.

  This was part of the logic I kept using, trying to convince myself why I really refused her submission. Obviously, there were still feelings for her ex, even if she wouldn’t admit to it. I fucking detested the way he stared at her. And he looked familiar. I’d seen him before. Somewhere. Watching him kiss her made me clearly realize what I’d tried like hell to erase. Thoughts of them being intimate. Involved in a long relationship. His mouth between her thighs, along with his dick. His seed.

  Fucking hell.

  The water swirled down in a perfect gentle circle around my feet. My state of mind was bleak. My thoughts were cloudy. I had shit to figure out. A business to run. My mind needed clarity. My fist needed to be a mile-deep inside the motherfucker’s gut that was kissing her, or possibly fucking her at this very moment.

  But now, the center of my attention was this. My hand driving my shaft, thoughts of her sweet soft body wrapped around mine, her honey-essence juices covering me while my dick emptied inside her.

  Who was I trying to kid? One time with Hartley wasn’t nearly enough. Only a small taste, when I needed the whole package. Days had passed since I’d been inside her sweet heat. Now here I was. Desperate. In the shower trying like hell to get myself off and blow the backed-up load I’d had ever since she left the club last night dressed in skin-hugging black pants with boots riding up past her fucking knees.

  Her smell was sweet honey. She’d been so receptive to the scene on the cross.

  Then the cock-sucker had his mouth on her when I’d showed up to offer her dinner and explain my reasoning more thoroughly. Maybe I was wrong in thinking she felt what I thought she did. Maybe I needed to change my motherfucking aim and get back to what I did best—work. Centering my attention on the upcoming auction.

  Focusing first and foremost on my business like I’d always done.

  Close the door for good on the one thing I’d sworn off.

  Bloody hell. The skin on my dick was borderline irritated my grip was so tight. Christ, why wasn’t I getting what I needed by my hand? I’d been jerking off ever since that first day at Jackson’s condo when I’d seen her. What was different now? It was taking forever.

  “What the bloody fuck? Come on. Fucking. Come. On.” My teeth were grinding, the water scalding hot against my back.

  I sat on the shower seat, the water so hot, the paint was probably peeling from the walls. But I needed to come. Needed to release the tension that seemed to go all the way up through my eyeballs. I leaned against the hard tile, visualizing her thick hair and caramel-colored eyes that were so full of lust. So anxious for my cock. So wet and eager to offer her submission.

  Discipline was the last thing I wanted with Hartley, but even though I hadn’t been a practicing Dom for years, the need to force her from her comfort zone just a little was tremendous. Not to the point of pain. Just to that small edge of pleasure.

  Thoughts of her addictive taste hardened my dick even more. Her moist channel as I stroked her with my tongue and fingers. The tight rim of her asshole. My balls tightened. I could almost smell her, feel her moisture coating my tongue as I plunged inside her while she quivered with her release.

  In seconds, my balls were exploding through my dick. I was coming, stroking myself as a deep groan roared from my beating chest.

  Finally. Relief. The last bit of my wad shot out, streaming down the drain with the water that was suddenly just the right temperature.

  “Thank Christ!” I let go of my tender dick.

  Today, I’d hardly been able to function, the only thing on my mind her. Why didn’t I stay at her office and find out who the man was kissing my girl, even though in the back of my mind I knew damn well who it was? Had she opened her sweet heat up to him? Was she with him right now? Was he thrusting hard and deep inside her wet sex? Was his fucking cum running down the inside of her thighs?

  My girl? Where the hell did that come from? She wasn’t even close.

  And I didn’t do this kind of shit.

  Fucking hell. Fuck! Fuck!

  Showered and feeling a good five pounds lighter, I brushed my fingers across the jaw that was still tender from Jackson, a million things on my mind as I rested my head against the back of the oversized recliner and closed my eyes, taking a few short hits of much-needed weed before dressing for work. Just enough to take the edge off what the pain patches weren’t giving me today. The nausea streamed through my gut like an unwelcome pesky blood-sucker. I wasn’t dying. I simply lived with chronic migraines and all that came along with them.

  A multitude of vitamins and supplements were on the market for migraine relief. Most weren’t worth two shits. The only things that really seemed to help much, other than weed, were caffeine and Coenzyme Q-10, which only helped on occasion. And I needed both right now to help alleviate the fucking monster in my head if I planned on being functional at work. I forced myself from the comforts of the recliner and headed to the kitchen, gathering ingredients for a strawberry spinach smoothie and tossing two soft gels of each into the blender.

  Thirty seconds later, I was in my bedroom trying like hell to get the last few gulps down without puking it right back up, the slight aftertaste of spinach strong on my tongue. The one vegetable I had a hard time ingesting.

  My phone rang as I pulled on my boots. Tonight was pretty much guaranteed to be a light one at the club. Maybe I’d go check in with Sam and Bull and take the rest of the night off. Hell, I never took time off. And I needed to sort out some shit. I was way too worked up. Uneasy and unsettled.

  Because of Hartley Shipman.

  Already, I missed her face. I needed her a hell of a lot more than I realized. Why was that? How was that?

  The answer was that it didn’t matter. My needs were inconsequential. I could never give her what she wanted. What she deserved.

  We had no future.

  End of damn story.

  “Hey, Tyler
. How’s business? Any new horny women spill cream all over your hand lately?” I laughed, knowing my face was covered in a totally shit-out-the-ass arrogant grin. Funny thing was, that had really happened before. Plus, I wasn’t an idiot. Tyler was a good-looking man, but it choked me up that a woman could really get herself off like that when a professional checked out her body for liposuction or some other kind of life-altering procedure that women felt possessed to do.

  His response was equally arrogant as I listened to him sniff. I could guarantee he had his head leaning back triumphantly, smirking like a confidant Cheshire cat.

  “I get plenty of cum on my hands, motherfucker. Just by one beautiful lady, though.”

  “You’re so goddammed henpecked.” I laughed.

  “Now that we’ve discussed cum, I was just seeing if you wanted to get together over at my place for a game of basketball with Mason and me. Maybe tomorrow. We both know it’ll be pretty one-sided being that I kick both your asses every time we play, but I just thought I might give you one more opportunity to get a little of your dignity back.”

  “You’re on. Just let me know when. I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hartley

  I’m sorry you saw that. It was unexpected. It meant nothing. I need to see you.

  “Jesus,” I moaned. After tapping in text after text message apologizing in one way or another, I finally hit Send and smeared a light coat of gloss over my lips. I put the cap back on and slipped the cosmetic bag into my purse, my stomach rolling at thoughts of walking back into Venture to face Justin and explain all the mistakes I’d made.

  I’d come across as needy and desperate, begging someone like him to have a Dom/sub relationship with me. His kisses against my neck had spiraled my imagination with all kinds of illusions. Knowing I’d done something so stupid didn’t.

  Idiot! Dumbass!

  Clearly, I wasn’t important to him. Perfectly straightforward, he only wanted one time. So, when had I evolved into a woman confident enough to look a man in the face that I barely knew and practically throw myself at him like a dog in heat? I didn’t want to be that way. It was nothing but a pathway to more hurt. Forward many times with Bruce, it had only led me to heartache.

  My stomach felt like it was full of rocks as I stepped outside my car and walked toward the club entrance, wondering if Justin would even see me. I was nervous as all hell.

  God help me. Please don’t let me puke.

  It was time. Now or never. Either he’d forgive me, or tell me to fuck off. The latter choice was making me fight this threating nausea.

  The same stone-faced gentleman that rubbed me wrong for some strange reason, stood at the door that had been here the last time. Absolutely fucktacular!

  His face took on a strange look as I asked him to let Justin know I was here. I smiled, knowing damn well he wouldn’t return the gesture. His personality resembled one of a mouth-watering, rabid dog.

  “He’s not here. He’s gone home for the evening.”

  “Oh. Okay, then. Thank you. Have a nice night.”

  “You do the same, Ms. Shipman.” I felt the impact of his stare as I walked toward my Nissan. Nothing like knowing someone was glaring at your ass.

  I had to see Justin, even it was the last time. At least explain what he’d seen, and apologize for trying to force something from him he wasn’t interested in. Crap. I didn’t even know where he lived. I dialed Jackson.

  “Goddammit, Coco. I’m not giving you his address. I told you I didn’t want you around Wisely.”

  “Fine, Jacks. I don’t understand why you’re being such a dick about this. Why all the verbal vomit about Justin? You act like he’s the Antichrist.”

  “Good God, Hartley. Verbal vomit?” He choked back a small laugh. “You don’t understand, Coco. He’s not the man you think he is. There’s more than just that pretty face.”

  “God, you act like you hate him Jacks. And you’re right. I don’t understand.”

  “The man’s got problems, Hartley. And I’m legally obligated not to tell you this. I’m breaking my client confidentiality.”

  “Please, Jacks. I need to know what you’re talking about. It’s important.”

  “Fuck…”

  Finally, my brother told me what I wasn’t supposed to know.

  ****

  His address was entered in my GPS. I hit ‘Start Route’. Twenty-six minutes away.

  My brother was beyond pissed. Still trying to play protector like he’d done all my life, he couldn’t possibly understand the connection between Justin and me. Sick to my stomach after what I’d just learned about Justin, all the disagreements with Jacks seemed trivial. I’d worry about that later. Right now, the only thing that really mattered was seeing Justin and wishing away this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. He’d been abused as a child, forced to panhandle for money for his mother and stepfather. In the back of my mind, I think I’d always known something like that was going on. Obvious why he’d missed so much school, it was also crystal-clear why he was a controller.

  “Hell’s bells. This place is as nice as Jackson’s.” I swiped at the small smears of mascara under my eyes, parking next to a beautiful red sports car and walking inside the high-rise condominium complex.

  “May I help you?” The smiling lady at the concierge desk was young and beautiful. I returned the gesture.

  “I’m here to see Justin Wisely in 10A.”

  “I’m aware of his unit number, ma’am. Give me just a minute and I’ll ring him.” Ring him? Why the hell did he need to be called first? Her friendly smile turned to cat-clawing bitchiness in about three seconds flat. Why did she need to ring him?

  Dramatic bitch.

  I was going up whether either of them told me any different. I’d bang on Justin’s door all night if I had to. I was going to see him regardless. This may be my last chance.

  “He’s in the penthouse on the tenth floor. He said you can come up.”

  The subtle scent of vanilla smelled nice as I punched the number ten going to the top floor. The door opened with a ding, my heart hammering. Holy crap. Just like Jackson, Justin had his own private elevator. I reached for the bell, the door opening just as my finger touched the silver button.

  No words were spoken. No time given for me to speak. I barely got through the door before he was reaching out, pulling my head between his hands and pressing his lips to mine with an insane intensity, his tongue pushing for access. I sighed against his lips, currents of heat spiraling through my body just like every other time he’d touched me. Kissing him right back, I slid my fingers through the loops of his jeans, giving him my full sanction as I glided my tongue across his. We kissed each other with a desperate fire, his arms dropping from my head and tightly settling around my waist. My insides swirled with nervousness and desire as he urged me against him even more. Before I realized what was happening, he was pushing the door shut with his foot while his lips were still crazy against mine. Our kiss deepened even more, if that was even a possibility, and I urgently tugged at his shirt, pure pleasure shooting through me. His eyes narrowed in on me, studying me with an unclear expression, his jaw tensing. His face held a touch of bleakness, his eyes bloodshot. His fingertips slid up my arms, my nipples hardening against my bra as a jolt of warmth erupted between my thighs.

  “Justin … what are you doing?” My voice was next to nothing but a whisper, my self-control even less.

  In seconds, we were two wild animals, ripping away each other’s clothing until we both stood in the middle of his foyer entirely devoid of anything other than our bare bodies.

  He took a step back, glaring at me for what seemed like many excruciating long seconds, the look behind his red-rimmed eyes making the pounding in my chest that much more severe. Only a few short weeks ago I thought I’d love Bruce forever and now, well … this. It was all so urgent. Like we couldn’t stop.

  “Are you on birth control? I’m sorry I failed to ask before. I ha
ve condoms.”

  My head in such a fog, I couldn’t even remember exactly how many weeks it had been since I had my injection. My cycles had never been regular and I assumed pregnancy was a hundred to one shot. I’d been late on my birth control many times, which was probably not the wisest decision in the long haul.

  “I am,” I whispered.

  With a shake of his head, he lifted me into his arms and started walking, neither of us speaking. My head rested against his inked-up chest, listening to the thundering behind his skin and outlining the nape of his neck with my fingertips as he led us to what I speculated would be his bedroom.

  He’d made things perfectly clear that it was only sex between us. And I knew he meant every word. Except … this didn’t feel like it. It felt like it had meaning, but I had to stop making up ridiculous fantasies in my head. It only led to more heartache. Just because I felt something didn’t mean I was anyone of importance. He didn’t do long-term. Sex for Justin was simply entertainment. He couldn’t love—even me. Just the same, I couldn’t seem to walk away.

  No expectations.

  His bedroom was dark other than the glow of a small lamp. Lowered to the floor, I stood against the edge of the bed, my eyes scanning over his toned chest and settling on the amazing moisture-beaded thick length between his legs. His dick was almost beautiful. I reached out, rubbing just the tip of my finger from top to bottom and then brushed my palm over his tight balls.

  He dropped his hand on top of mine, and together, we moved up and down his glorious cock. I’d never done anything so sensual as that in my life.

  “Back up just a little.”

  I did as he said, and he positioned me on top of the dark blue comforter, crawling on top of me and spreading my thighs wide with a sturdy push of his strong legs. His mouth hovered over mine as he exhaled warm breaths over my face, his fingers tightening through my hair as his eyes burned with the seductive look they always had.