Seductive Secrecy (Shadows series)

by Mann, Marni

  And apparently they were able to read me just as well.

  “Would you like to take a gander at my den?”

  I nodded. Then I bent over and placed my pad and pencil back inside my bag, realizing I hadn’t needed either. The inspiration was everywhere. The sketches would wait. I hung it over my shoulder and stood up.

  “Charlie, may I ask…is your cell phone in your bag?” Chet asked.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Then I’m going to have to ask you to leave your bag down here. I assure you no one will touch it or take anything from it. The request is just for my protection since I don’t allow cameras in there for…obvious reasons.”

  Suddenly the word den had taken on a whole different meaning. This wasn’t an extra living room, like the one on the second floor of Emma’s parents’ house that they’d referred to as the family den.

  This was a room that served a much different purpose.

  His cheeks blushed again; his hands fidgeted in his lap. “Before you leave, assuming we’re going to agree to work together, I’m going to ask you to sign a confidentiality agreement. It will just state that you won’t discuss the piece of art with anyone unless they’re approved by me, and that you won’t discuss my home or my belongings.”

  “I understand completely.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. Not everyone does.”

  Not everyone had been employed at the mansion, either.

  I was beginning to believe that men like Gareth and Chet were much more common than I had originally thought. To the outside world, Chet would never have seemed like the type of man to have hooks in his ceiling and cock-shaped vases; Gareth was extremely discreet about his passion for domination. But these “normal” men lived secret lives. I had lived one, too.

  Maybe I still was.

  It seemed like vanilla was a flavor that no one liked to order anymore.

  I thought I’d acquired a taste for it. But now I wasn’t so sure.

  “Please follow me.” He stood from his chair and began walking in the opposite direction of the elevator.

  With each step, I tried to prepare myself for what I was about to walk into. I knew Professor Freeman wouldn’t send me here if he had reason to worry for my safety. But going into someone’s den was bound to trigger any of several possible reactions. I just wanted to be ready for what those could be.

  Something told me he was more comfortable with a particular amount of space, so I allowed several feet of distance between us. I followed him through multiple rooms and hallways, moving toward the back of the apartment. We finally approached another elevator, though this one was much different than the one I’d taken from the lobby.

  “Are we going down?” I asked. Odd, since I’d assumed we were already on the top floor.

  “Indeed. I purchased the floor below us, but it’s not accessible from the main elevator…I had to make sure of that. So I had a second installed.”

  I couldn’t control the nerves that were working their way past my stomach. It wasn’t just the separate, private elevator that added to the mystery of it all; it was the décor as well, the dark wood that surrounded us and the skull knockers on the doors.

  Once inside, Chet pushed the only button. It was unmarked, but it lit up in bright red to match the bulb on the ceiling.

  When the door swung open, I was astonished with what was waiting on the other side.

  “Welcome to my den, Charlie.”

  I could feel his eyes on me…but I couldn’t drag mine away from my surroundings. The entire room was a recreation of a cement basement, complete with concrete walls and floor; it even had the feel and scent of cold dampness. There were cages in each corner, barred-off sections that were held shut with padlocks, and small benches inside of each with dog bowls on the floor. Several boards hung on the walls, filled with sex toys and instruments, tools for manipulation and pain—humiliation, even. There were tables throughout, and chairs and swings. And even though he hadn’t wanted me to bring my phone in for fear of having a camera present, I was sure there was one pointed at me the entire time.

  I shivered, but not from the darkness or the damp, or the chill, even. I shivered from the emotion that permeated this room. People had different reasons for entertaining this lifestyle, and while most were probably based on a healthy sexual desire, I somehow knew that Chet’s wasn’t. Something had happened to this man, something brutal that hadn’t broken him entirely, but had damaged him greatly. I had the overwhelming sense that this room was the only way he was able to cope with it.

  “Do you sleep in here?” I asked.

  “Not every night.” He sighed. “I don’t allow myself to. But it’s the only place in this entire apartment that feels like home.” He brushed his finger over one of the walls as if he was pulling strength from them. When he breathed, it was a deep inhale. He held it in, as if it was finally giving him some peace.

  “That’s because you feel normal in here…don’t you?”

  I never would have asked a client that. I wouldn’t have dared to as most would have found it to be highly inappropriate. But given the room that I was in, I felt like I could ask almost anything. If this wasn’t exactly a chamber of horrors, it was, at the very least, a space where one could strip down their soul.

  “Very much so. A place like this…this room…this is where I belong. I am complete here.”

  That was how painting made me feel. And sex, too. And Cameron now.

  And the mansion, before I had found out what that place was really about.

  “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Charlie.” He took a step forward, bridging the large gap between us. His expression had changed since we’d entered the den, and now it was changing again. A fearsome grin passed over his lips.

  The anxiety from earlier had died just a little, but it began to rise again. My pulse spiked. Even in this misty, cold room my body was starting to sweat.

  “I’m really not interested in having just any woman wear my Lace Mask,” he said.

  Fuck. Did he want that woman to be me?

  Would you expect anything less, Madam Whore? It’s who you are. Something like that doesn’t just go away just because you want it to.

  And it doesn’t just die, either.

  Chet took one final step as Lilly’s words slithered through me, stopping just a foot from where I stood. When he crossed his arms over his chest, I wrapped mine over my stomach, protecting myself for what was about to come.

  “I actually don’t want a woman at all,” he said. “I would prefer a man.”

  My neck turned and my brows rose as I processed his request… and the anxiety left me in one great exhale. My comfort was reinforced by the genuine smile that spread over his face. Every nerve that had built suddenly relaxed, and my grin grew to match his. “No problem at all. It would be my pleasure, actually.” And a first for me as well.

  “Then I hope you don’t mind if I have one last request?”

  “Please, it’s your piece, and I want you to be totally satisfied with it.”

  His blush returned. “If Cameron just so happened to be the model and he agreed to pose nude…I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to that.”

  A laugh burst through my lips, and my hand automatically went to his shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He didn’t cringe from my touch or recoil as I thought he might. Instead, he put his hand on top of mine and squeezed my fingers. “Thank you for being so wonderful.”

  I squeezed back. “Thank you for believing in my talent.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  DURING MY RIDE HOME, I couldn’t help but think about Chet’s past and what must have driven him to build that room. He said it was where he felt safe, where his sense of normalcy came through. It was his reward. It was where he housed his control.

  I wondered where mine was housed, or if it was at all.

  Had I lost it completely?

  Things had changed dramatically since the mansion. I had soft
ened. I could be easily pleased by one man now, and I largely allowed him to direct our sex, because that was what he liked. He had certain restrictions when it came to his body that stemmed from his childhood abusers. He couldn’t stand it when I approached him from behind. He’d been struck from this direction during his punishments; the coward hadn’t wanted Cameron to look him in the face. He hadn’t yet overcome his sense of the unknown, and felt that what was happening was beyond his control. So I made sure he heard me when I entered a room. And I was extremely careful about where I placed my hands and lips; I didn’t want those to trigger anything, either. I was still learning his other quirks, and I was allowing him to lead. While Cee may have permitted herself to be dominated, letting someone else take the reins during sex was new for Charlie. And instead of creating art as my heart and emotions called me to, I was creating pieces of art for specific clients, tailored to their tastes and not mine. I was taking orders directly from them. Teachers dictated my assignments, creditors dipped into my finances. Lilly’s evil voice appeared in my head whenever it wanted to.

  It didn’t feel like I dominated anything in my life anymore.

  But the desire for that was still present. It pulsed, throbbed, thrashed because it wasn’t getting attention.

  I was burying it in the world that Cameron was creating for me.

  But Chet had reminded me of what I missed. He’d shown me a glimpse of what a part of me wanted back, what it felt I truly was and what it yearned to be again. I had done everything I could to curb Cee, to distance myself from the mansion, and to draw myself closer to Cameron.

  What if I couldn’t any longer?

  What if I needed a place where she could come alive?

  What if Cee was really the soul of me, and Charlie was just another mask I wore?

  I shook my head, pulling myself back from the window of the train. I hadn’t been watching the scenery; I had no idea where I was. But I had to get those ideas out of my mind. I reminded myself of how good my life had been lately. I had even written it in the last letter to my father. Had I jinxed myself? Were things really not what they seemed? Maybe I was trying to convince myself that this was the life I thought I wanted, the life that I needed. That I believed would only make me happy.

  And in the process of trying so hard to make something with Cameron, was I missing the obvious signs? I didn’t know if it was normal for a boyfriend to paint his ex-girlfriend’s breasts. Mine did, though. I hadn’t brought it up to him, hadn’t questioned him. I hadn’t let him know it made me uncomfortable. He had fallen for Cee and I was giving him Charlie…would that not be enough for him?

  Did he need something from Lora, too? Something I was lacking... something I wasn’t able to give him?

  I kept wondering why he’d taken me to that mansion…a detailed replica of the mansion. Was he showing me what he really wanted from me? It was just a house he had rented for the evening. But he’d left me boxes like the mansion had, and dressed me like one of my clients. He’d fucked me over and over on that bed. He had put me behind a mask. Maybe he still wanted me to be wearing one.

  Or maybe he thought I still was.

  Did he sense that Cee was closer to me than I was able to admit to myself?

  Lilly never made me believe that I deserved anything better than what we had in our old, dingy apartment. That I deserved to be happy. That I deserved to be free. She didn’t allow me to believe it, because she’d never believed it herself.

  But what about now? Did I truly believe I deserved happiness, as myself? Not as Cee, not as some fantasy that Cameron created, but as meas Charlie.

  Would I ever feel good enough as I was, without any mask at all?

  Lilly was gone physically. I was free of the way she used to dig her nails into my skin when she punished me, of the pain that came from the back of her hand, of her words that stung my bare skin as sharply as any slap. I no longer had to eat cold food off the stained carpet, go to sleep with stabbing hunger pains, or listen to her screams of pleasure come through our thin walls.

  But her voice was still in my head.

  Did that mean happiness would be impossible for me?

  Lilly used to fuck our landlord to cover rent. I would find his brand of cigarettes in the ashtray by her bed and his thick, curly pubic hair when I washed her sheets. Shouldn’t happiness have sprung from becoming the self-reliant woman my father had mentioned in his note? My income would more than cover my rent if I moved into my own place, and I could continue to live comfortably without having to dip into the money my father had set aside. I didn’t depend on Cameron for that, any more than I would ever need to depend on Lilly for it again.

  Was that happiness?

  I realized that I actually fucked my landlord, too. And I wanted to, but because I wanted to be with him, not because I needed to. I wanted the care I felt in his fingertips, and the security that came from his every breath.

  Like Chet, I wanted to be in my familiar space where I felt safe, where my normal side came through. I wanted my reward. I wanted to own the very thing that housed my control.

  I wanted control, period.

  And that’s what drove me straight to our apartment instead of going to my afternoon class. I burst through the front door, skipping the studio where I knew Cameron would be and headed for the bedroom. During the walk through the living room, I stripped my clothes off, leaving them wherever they landed. I was naked by the time I reached the bed. The cold sheets bunched around my burning skin.

  My hands twitched.

  I knew I should have been spending this time working on Chet’s piece. I should have been adding the final strokes to the others I had due this week, too. I should have been completing the homework I had been assigned or finishing the reading that we would be covering in today’s class.

  I wanted the control more.

  I wanted to do something for myself. I wanted it to be my choice. Not an obligation, not a task or a duty; I wanted to want.

  My fingers drifted down my stomach and stopped once they reached that tiny, hard nub that throbbed with a raw, intense pulse. I didn’t want a slow, drawn-out grind. I wanted fast, hard, squeezing out an orgasm as quickly as my body would allow.

  My legs spread, and my fingers began to circle. My other hand reached behind me and gripped the headboard.

  Each breath I released was a moan. I didn’t try to lower my voice, my cries of pleasure. I didn’t even reach for the toys that we kept in the nightstand, the vibrator or the dildo. I wanted to create the spasms from my skin, my pressure, my pacing.

  I pushed the back of my head into the pillow and arched my spine, letting the flow of waves bring me closer to the edge. My knees bent; my heels dug into the foam mattress. I gripped the wood even harder, stabbing my nails into hard coating, channeling some of the passion that coursed through me. But as my body prepared to buck against my fingertips, I felt something. A set of eyes upon me; a stare.

  I wasn’t alone.

  I tilted my head up and met Cameron’s gaze. He was standing in the doorway, without a shirt on. Paint was splattered across his chest and speckled over his dark tattoos. The jeans he wore rode low on his hips; there were holes in the thighs, a few more in the knees. His hands were in pockets.

  He sighed when he saw what I was doing.

  “Don’t stop because of me,” he said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE EUPHORIA THAT HAD BEEN GRADUALLY BUILDING in my body didn’t slow at the same rate it had climbed. It came to an immediate halt instead. The indifference in Cameron’s expression didn’t help soothe the ache that followed. I had touched myself in front of him before, but it was foreplay and had been aimed at turning him onboth of us, actually. This felt like he had burst in on me doing something wrong, and my whole body was tightening in response.

  The blanket and sheets had fallen during my short session, so I reached for them, pulling them up until they covered my chest. I continued yanking until they rested at the base of my n
eck. Then I leaned my back into the headboard, bent my knees and wrapped my arms around them.

  No words came to me. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say, how to process my thoughts from earlier, how to justify my actions. Did I even need to? Was it odd to walk into your bedroom and find your girlfriend masturbating? Touching my body had been such a huge presence in my life before I had moved in here, but since then there really hadn’t been a need. Cameron took care of those desires… which was why this felt so awkward. Would he think he wasn’t satisfying me? That he was inadequate? That my fingers felt better than his, or that I’d rather please myself than him?

  I wondered if this was how Chet had felt when I had entered his den, just waiting for my expression to turn to either understanding or repulsion.

  I couldn’t read Cameron; I couldn’t hide more than I already had.

  And I couldn’t take the silence anymore.

  “Say something,” I whispered.

  “What turned you on so much?” He shifted against the doorframe, crushing his shoulder into the molding. “Was it another man?”

  “No…it wasn’t anyone else. It was…” I hesitated. “It was me.”

  My mind immediately went back to that place. That place of question, of masks, of true purposes. I was more naked before him now with the sheets pulled up around me than I ever had been during our most passionate moments. What did he see when he looked at his bed?

  Did he really see me, or want me for me?

  He could see the questions in my eyes. “Ask me,” he said. “Whatever it is, I’ll answer anything. But you need to speak…I know something is bothering you.”

  I thought back to the more significant conversations we’d had while I’d been hiding out at my father’s apartment, and the ones that had taken place since I’d been out. The one that stood out the most was the moment right before we’d had sex for the very first time. Cameron thought I’d left the country. He was coming to my father’s apartment to ask him where I’d gone.

  I wanted to find you. To meet you there. To start over again with you, wherever you were…I don’t know what you went through before you started working in that place; I’m not going to pretend to understand. Something in your life must have been bad enough for you to have made that choice, and I can’t judge you for that. We’ve all done things we regret, Charlie.