Vaughn's Awakening [The Black Dahlia Hotel 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Skye Michaels

  * * * *

  The Starbucks on East Broughton Street, Savannah, Georgia, Thursday late afternoon, January 14, 2016

  Vaughn, Alexa and Cyndy met for coffee at their favorite Starbucks after work. As usual, Alexa and Cyndy had the grande and chocolate chip cookies. Hmm. Maybe I need some new friends. Oh, well, she was stuck with them, cookies and all.

  As soon as they were settled in the comfortable seating area, Vaughn pulled out Wade’s letter and handed it to Alexa. She quickly scanned it with Cyndy peering over her shoulder and then her eyes popped wide when she saw the attached check.

  “Wow. Ten grand. That’s a lot of ‘I’m sorry.’”

  “Yeah. I don’t know what to do with it. Keep it, return it, donate it. I’m not sure I want his money tainting my life.”

  “Don’t be too hasty. Think about it before you make a decision. Maybe he needs some closure or expiation or something, too—not that I really care what he needs.” Cyndy looked concerned. “Don’t keep it if it’s going to upset you, but consider all the good you could do with that money that isn’t already earmarked for another purpose.”

  “You’re right. I’ll think about it. Maybe Savannah Children’s Charities and the Humane Society. We’ll see.”

  They finished their coffees and talked for a while. Alexa and Cyndy had both been back to Le Club for an evening but hadn’t scened with anyone. Her experience was affecting them as well as herself. They both looked like they had something they wanted to tell her but were holding back. “All right. Spit it out. What’s bothering you two?”

  Alexa took point as usual. “We saw Paul Proffit at the club when we were there last weekend. He wasn’t with anyone. He was having a drink at the bar with a guy who looked like a friend. He didn’t look happy, Vaughn. When he saw us, he came over and asked how you were. Haven’t you called him? He said you told him not to call, that you would get in touch when you were ready.”

  “That seems a little harsh, girlfriend. He looked like he was dying to know if you were okay.” Cyndy was a soft touch. “I felt sorry for him. I think he loves you, and I can see by the look on your face right now that you love him. I think you need to get back on that horse and ride.”

  “So, we gave him your address and phone number. I don’t know if he’ll call or not. Doms are very proud men. We think you’ve hurt his feelings. We do know he wanted to be sure you were all right.”

  Maybe they were right. Maybe she did need to get back on that horse and ride. Maybe she would call Paul. Maybe she wouldn’t. She’d never been good at making the first move. Vaughn was sure that she needed to get over her fears and move on with her life one way or the other—with Paul Proffit or without him. She missed Paul even though they had only been together for a short while. He had been in her dreams at night—when she wasn’t having nightmares about Jeremiah Wade.

  The girls also related that Jeremiah Wade was no longer a member of Le Club Waterfront. Apparently Jamie Devereau had followed up on his threat to get Wade blackballed. He had been removed from membership at Le Club and all of his reciprocal privileges in the other Le Club facilities had also been cancelled.

  * * * *

  Vaughn Rawlston’s townhouse just off Franklin Square, Savannah, Georgia, Thursday early evening, January 14, 2016

  When Vaughn pulled into the parking space in front of her renovated townhouse in the historic district, there was a big black Harley Davidson motorcycle she didn’t recognize parked in her second space. She got out of the car and walked up to her front porch. She put her briefcase down on one of the wicker rocking chairs that flanked the tall red door with the etched glass sidelights while she rummaged in her bag for her keys. When she looked up, she saw Paul sitting in the other rocking chair just watching her. He didn’t say anything, but he looked like he wanted to drink her down in one gulp. He was the last person she expected to see on her porch tonight.

  “Hi. What are you doing here?” Now that was scintillating conversation if she ever heard any. What was her problem?

  “Waiting for you. Since you have not called me as you promised, I decided to take the bull—or the cow—skip that analogy. That didn’t come out the way I intended. I decided to come to you. I’m tired of hoping that you will come to your senses and see that you are important to me.” Despite the forceful statement, he looked nervous. “How are you feeling? Any residual problems from the…incident? Any emotional problems?”

  “Thank you for asking. I’m fine. The welts are healing very well, and it doesn’t look like there will be any scars. They do itch like the devil though.”

  “I’m glad that you’re okay. But I will tell you that if you continue to talk to me in that formal manner like I’m a stranger, I might be tempted to turn you over my knee and paddle your butt just to get reacquainted. ”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re worried about my mental state. Threats are sure to make me feel better.”

  “Bullshit, Vaughn. Don’t play that card with me. I’m not a stranger, and I don’t plan to tiptoe around you as though I was. You promised to call me and you didn’t. It’s been over two weeks. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

  “Well, you didn’t call me either.” She knew she sounded petulant and insecure, and she hated that.

  “For God’s sake, woman,” he roared. “You specifically told me not to call you—that you would call me when you were feeling better and were ready to talk. I’ve wanted to call you every single day, but I forced myself to wait thinking you needed time. I’d probably still be waiting if I hadn’t run into Alexa and Cyndy at the club. Now, I’m thinking what you need is a good spanking.”

  Vaughn could see that he was making an effort to control himself, but she didn’t know how long that was going to last. He was really upset. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. She stepped back and turned to the door. “Come on in. I’ll make a pot of coffee, and we can talk.”

  He got up and followed her into the foyer. She saw him looking into the formal living room on one side of the hall and the formal dining room on the other. When she turned to put down her briefcase and purse, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her with a rib-crushing intensity. “Vaughn, we really have to iron this shit out. I can’t take another two weeks of missing you.”

  And then his mouth came down on hers in an almost brutal kiss. She opened for him and he invaded her mouth with his tongue. She could feel the need vibrating through his body as he held her tight to his chest. When he came up for breath several minutes later, he ran his lips down her throat until they grazed her cleavage, and he breathed in her scent. “I’ve missed you, woman. I’ve missed the way you feel, the way you taste, the way you smell. Don’t do that to me again,” he ordered. And then he said, “Please.”

  Oh, geez. Way to make a girl feel guilty. “I missed you, too. I picked up the phone at least a dozen times and then put it back down again. I just am not sure how I feel, Paul.”

  “How you feel about me or about the situation or about BDSM? What?”

  “Come into the kitchen. I’ve got some fresh homemade coffee cake. I’ll put on a pot of coffee, and we can talk.”

  Paul looked good. He was so handsome he made her heart flutter. He needed a haircut and he had a rough scruff of beard on his face. He was wearing a beat-up motorcycle jacket, worn jeans, and motorcycle boots. She smiled. She wouldn’t have expected the polished and urbane Paul Proffit to ride a Harley.

  * * * *

  Paul propped himself against the granite countertop while Vaughn made the coffee. God, it was good to see her. She looked a little thinner, and he didn’t like that. It meant she was upset and not eating.

  “You look good, Vaughn—a little too thin. Aren’t you eating?”

  “I’ve never heard that particular comment before.”

  “I think we’ve had that particular conversation before. As far as I am concerned, you are, and always were, perfect. I don’t like to hear that insecurity in your voice. It pisses me off. Why don’t y
ou let me spank your butt so I can see if it still feels just right?”

  “I think I’ll pass on that for right now, thanks.”

  “Are you afraid of me?” Now he was worried. He didn’t like to see that expression on her face.

  “No, I’m not afraid of you. I just am not sure how I feel about everything that happened, about participating in BDSM or D/s. I don’t know if I can do it. I know it’s important to you, Paul. You were into the lifestyle before you met me, and you’ll still be into it after I’m gone.”

  “What the fuck to you mean, ‘after you’re gone?’” He roared again. He took a couple of deep breaths. “I’m losing my patience, Vaughn. I’m not going any-fucking-where, and neither are you. I understand that you are confused and scared, but of all the things to be confused about, my feelings for you aren’t on the ‘permitted things for Vaughn to worry about’ list.” He shook his head. After pacing the floor for two weeks he knew that he loved her. He also knew she might not be ready to hear that. “You might have doubts about participating in the BDSM lifestyle, but you’d better not have doubts about me. I’ve waited for the right woman for years, and I have no intention of letting you get away from me now.” He made another mighty effort to regain control of himself and the situation. “Let me take one more worry off your list. Whether we engage in scenes or D/s or any other BDSM activities—or not—has nothing to do with how I feel about you. Yes, I enjoy it. Can I live without it? Yes. Are you more important to me than any particular lifestyle or type of sexual activity? Yes again. I understand that you might be frightened. We’ll work through it. I’m here for the long run, not just a couple of quickies.” Now his eyes were sparkling and he grinned. “Although I wouldn’t mind a quickie.”

  * * * *

  Vaughn turned to the counter and took out mugs and plates for the cake. She took her time pouring the coffee and putting in cream and sugar just the way he liked it. She cut the cake. This all took time and gave her a few moments to think. He seemed to know that and gave her the time she needed. What did she want? Did she want this man in her life on any terms at all? Yes. She knew that she did. If he could be patient with her, she still wanted him. Could she try BDSM again for him? Yes. She would try anything for him, but she couldn’t guarantee that she would be successful. When she turned back, she was smiling. “Good to know, Proffit.”

  “Are you being smart, subbie?”

  “I guess so. Here’s your coffee and cake. I made it myself. I like to bake.”

  “I love a woman who can cook, although being in the restaurant business, it isn’t a deal breaker.”

  “I didn’t say anything about cooking. I said I like to bake.”

  “Even better. Come here and sit with me. We still have some things to discuss. I want to be sure you’ve got this straight.”

  She frowned at him. “I’m not intellectually challenged, Proffit. I understand you perfectly.”

  “Could have fooled me,” he grumbled.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake. Just a minute.” Vaughn walked back to the foyer and retrieved the letter she had received from Jeremiah Wade. She handed it to Paul and waited while he read it twice.

  “He doesn’t admit anything, and it’s far from explicit. Still, it is something—at least it’s an acknowledgment of what he did to you. How do you feel about it?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t need or want his money. I was thinking about making a couple of charitable donations. Cyndy thought he might have written the letter and check as a form of contrition. I’m confused. What do you think?”

  “Vaughn, that’s your decision. After what you’ve been through, anything you decide would be okay. Sleep on it for a few days and then decide. There’s no rush.”

  * * * *

  After they had talked for what seemed like hours, Vaughn got up, took his hand, and led him upstairs to the master bedroom. The winter garden could just be seen through the lightly curtained French doors. Vaughn looked into his smoldering eyes and unbuttoned his shirt. The deep timbre of his voice sent a rush of excitement skittering up her spine. She wanted him—she wanted this—with every fiber of her being. She ran her hands down his chest. His skin was like silk over steel. Her fingers paused to relearn each ridge and valley of his washboard abs.

  Vaughn smiled in anticipation as she pushed the shirt off his broad shoulders, and her fingers moved down to unbutton his waistband. She pushed his jeans down his muscular thighs and was surprised to see he had gone commando. She gulped in a breath. His shaft was at full attention, steel-hard, and very ready. He was even more beautiful than she had remembered. He kicked off his motorcycle boots and stepped out of his jeans.

  “Slow down, girl. Give me a minute.” He reached into his pocket for a condom and made quick work of suiting up.

  “I don’t want to go slow, Paul.” She couldn’t believe how turned on she was. He lifted her dress over her head, and she was left standing in high heels and a silky red lace teddy. “Make love to me.”

  He picked her up in his arms and headed toward the bed. Vaughn tightened her arms around his neck as he leaned down to push the multitude of lacy throw pillows off the antique bed and put her gently down. She kicked her shoes off and smiled up at him as she pulled him down next to her. She thought her behavior might be just a bit brazen, and that wasn’t like her at all, but she couldn’t help herself. She had missed him and wanted him for over two anxiety-filled weeks, and now here he was—in her bedroom just as she had fantasized.

  * * * *

  Paul flipped the snaps between her thighs open and pushed the red silk out of the way. Then he pulled the teddy off over her head, leaving her naked. She was as beautiful and voluptuous as he remembered. It hadn’t been his imagination that she was perfect for him. Her small waist, full hips, and raspberry-tipped breasts were magnificent. He ran his fingers over her trimmed mound and found the little bundle of nerves at the apex. He pushed the hood back and skimmed his fingers lightly over her clit, and she gasped and arched her back in response. He continued the sweet torture with his mouth, nibbling and sucking, until he thought she was getting close. He backed off and turned his attentions to her pulsing, slick center. He dipped two fingers into her pussy to test her readiness. Her body was hot and trembling with want. He kissed her hard and deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue. He didn’t think he could wait another minute.

  She pushed him over and straddled his middle, brushing her hot center over his pulsing erection. Her long silky hair brushed over his chest as she rubbed against him until he didn’t think he could stand another minute. Finally, when he thought he would explode, she lowered herself onto his hard cock, leaned forward on her forearms, and began to stroke him, slow and easy. She raised and lowered her body, pleasuring herself on his hard cock while he watched the emotions cross her beautiful face. Vaughn was the picture of erotic bliss. When he could stand the slow pace no longer, he quickly rolled her over and took command of the situation. He restrained her wrists above her head with one hand and supported himself with the other. When she didn’t evidence any fear of the pseudo-bondage, he began to stroke her harder and faster until his orgasm roared through him like a freight train, and his seed slammed into the condom. The sounds in his head seemed just as loud as a freight train. He slowed to let the residual waves of the orgasm pulse through his body, and then he began to stroke her slow and easy again in their familiar rhythm. He increased the pace as he watched her follow him over into her own stunning orgasm. He collapsed on her chest and just laid there satisfied and exhausted. He was probably too heavy to stay on top of her for long, but at the moment he was unwilling and unable to move.

  When he had gotten his breath back he said, “I’ve been waiting for that for over two weeks, Ms. Rawlston.”

  * * * *

  Later that night, Vaughn shifted in Paul’s arms. She watched him sleep for a while. He was so beautiful with his slightly long hair messy on his forehead. His gorgeous chest was uncovered, and her eyes
followed the happy trail down to the edge of the handmade quilt. She knew what wonderfulness was hiding down there, and she grinned. He’d been holding her so tight since they rolled over to go to sleep that she’d had to struggle to get up to go to the bathroom earlier. She hoped he’d relax a little when he realized she wasn’t going anywhere—at least not without him. She had been happy to discover that she felt comfortable and safe in his arms. Her recent experience with Wade hadn’t ruined the experience of intimacy for her. That had secretly been one of her worries. She had come like a house on fire. In fact, she’d been a little loud, and that was embarrassing. Paul hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d told her she sounded like a female lion in heat, and she’d better save that heat for him. The sex was just as hot as it had been before, and the lack of a BDSM element had not reduced the degree of hotness at all. She thought she would be able to try BDSM again with Paul. Maybe not right away, but she had confidence that they could work their way back to where they had been before and then move forward together. She thought she would be able to do anything for Paul.

  He rolled her back into his arms and said sleepily, “Are you watching me sleep?”

  Now she was embarrassed again. “Yes. You are so beautiful.”

  “No, baby. You’re the beautiful one. Don’t ever doubt that.” He rolled on top of her for round two—or was it three? Heck. Who was keeping count?

  Epilogue

  At Le Club Waterfront-Savannah, Savannah Harbor on the Savannah River, Sunday evening, February 14, 2016, Valentine’s Day