I sat up and tied my hair in a knot on top of my head. Why did I get the feeling Drake's life was more screwed than mine ever pretended to be?
He turned where he had one knee bent on the bed and the other one hanging off the side. Pulling me back down to where my head was laying in his lap, he untied the knot my hair was in and twirled a finger around it. “My life had been a cycle of one fuck up after another. I hope you never leave, then I pray that you do, then I remember that God doesn’t answer my prayers, so for a second, I feel relieved because maybe that means for once I get a taste of this. But then I have no idea what this is. I don’t date. I don’t care about anything, much less some woman I’ve fucked. But for some crazy reason, I get the feeling you’re not just some woman I’m fucking.”
Drake wasn’t aware of it but in the few days we have been together, he had taught my soul how to soar. For a man I barely knew, he had made my life both exciting and scary as hell.
“Drake, tell me about you? Your family?”
“There’s not much to say, as far as my family there’s me, my brother, dad, and sister.”
“What about your mom?” I asked gently, taking in the tremendous pain still present in his eyes.
“Is a two-bit meth whore.” He closed his eyes before letting out a deep sigh.
I sat in silence, holding his hand, letting him work through the turmoil he was presently in.
I wanted to ask him if his mom was why he was crying. If I was why he was crying.
Then for the first time, I noticed a small scar running across the wrist of the hand I was holding. I had the strangest urge to kiss it, somehow wanting to make it better. But I stop myself and felt myself crawling into my tough outer shell, blocking the pain around us.
“Do you want to get out of here? I know a great little seafood place. We can put the top down on the car and maybe ride through the countryside.”
Whatever is bothering him, I was right and he didn’t want to talk to me about it.
"That might be skewed into something called a date."
"I believe you're right. But you have been my exception from day one."
Cherry Webb
The charming town of Collierville was the best of both worlds, small town living in the center of the big city.
It had been months since I had taken the time to visit. For a while, I came every week with friends to eat at this small little tea room and browse among the abundance of gift shops. After I went to work at The Biz, it slowed down to a monthly trip. Now it had even cease to exist in my realm of things to do.
Most of the residents were wealthy, suburbanites. The kind of place I envisioned visiting when I was with a man like James. Not Master.
After receiving several envious stares, I felt like Drake belonged there more than I did. Taking in the perfect form of Drake in a skin-tight, black t-shirt and an even tighter pair of blue jeans, it might have been the fact that he did. After destroying the clothes I had worn there, I was presently in a dungeon t-shirt, his college sweatpants, and thankfully, the underwear I had stuffed in my purse earlier that morning.
After leaving me alone for thirty minutes, he reappeared holding the shirt and pants, proclaiming they were the smallest articles of clothing he could find for me to wear. By the grin he was sporting, I would guess it was precisely what he wanted me to wear. The strangest thing was, I felt relaxed and more like me in these threads than any of the clothes James demanded I wore. Maybe, Drake already could read that this was more me.
Drake darted his eyes to the left to avoid my stare I was sure, and spotted an art festival going on around the historic courthouse.
“Do you want to stop and look around? I need to stretch my legs for a few anyways,” he asked.
“Of course, I haven’t been to an outdoor festival in years,” I said, more wanting an opportunity to get to know him than to actually shop.
“You will love this place. Claire, my step-mom, drags my dad here almost every week.”
His step-mom. Another piece of the puzzle to his life. I wanted the clear picture of what made him who he was, but something deep down knew the pieces would come in a small trickle.
“It’s not The Dungeon but it will do in a pinch,” I said and traced a tattoo of some type of bird on his forearm.
“I have a life outside of the club.”
His muscles flexed under my touch. But what grabbed my attention were the multiple tiny scars that covered his arms.
“What happen? Where did you get all the scars?”
He parked the car before answering. “I used to be a cutter,” Drakes said softly and reached over to wipe my windblown hair off my forehead. His hand stilled as he cupped my jaw. His thumb caressing my cheek, the way he was looking at me so intensely, I struggled to take a deep breath. It was the stare my body responded to in a way even I couldn’t understand.
“Do you still?”
He lightly laughed and shook his head. “No.”
“When did you stop?”
“When I discovered I was a Dom."
Drake Hart
Rolling the top down on the Saab seemed like a terrific idea at first, but with the wind whipping around our face, the beeping of horns, the sounds of faulty mufflers, the general hustle and bustle of the city blocked out any chance of talking. And hell, I wanted to listen to her ramble about anything. Even if it did require me to answer unwelcomed questions.
"Does that bother you?"
She twisted her puckered lip, contemplating me. The pressure in my chest lifted when I was briefly blinded by her remarkable smile as she shook her head. We were both just two injured souls, trying to feel whole. But her fucked-up meter was nowhere near mine.
I shut off the motor and asked her to please stay in the car. I confused her with that request, but for once I wanted to show someone I could be a gentleman, and found myself smiling again when she obeyed as I walked around to her side of the car to open her door. The way her eyes danced as she climbed out of the car, biting on the corner of her lip, caused an unfamiliar thump in my chest.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“You’re most welcome, Mrs. Webb.”
I took her fragile hand in mine and relished at how delicate she was. Other than Katie, I had never wanted to protect someone so much in my damn life, to the point at times I forgot why she was really with me.
The area was congested with people but that was a good thing, it caused Cherry to move closer to my side. We followed a stone path leading to a series of tents, holding booth after booth ranging from handmade furniture, to homemade breads, and everything in between.
Her walk came almost to a crawl as we moved closer to a table filled with an assortment of bracelets. I stopped, knowing she would never ask. I wish she was more sure of herself with me. The truth was I would do just about anything for her. The only place I dominated was in the bedroom, outside there we were equal. She immediately picked up a small leather band that was made to fasten around her wrist. It resembled a slave collar. The thought of her wearing it made my dick twitch. What the fuck? I didn’t do the commitment thing. Much less, give some woman a sign of ownership.
She placed it against her arm before laying it back down on the table.
“I love that on you,” I said, and I did.
“Love it too,” she said, and fingered over the inlay of silver flowers sprinkled amongst the leather.
I slipped the bracelet out from under her hand and slid it on her wrist. The ridiculously powerful urge to see her branded grew stronger. I wasn’t collaring her. Just showing her that what we had was more.
I leaned in and whispered into her ear, “I want you to wear this and nothing else the next time we play.”
The heat wept out of every pore in her body, signaling her cheeks were soon to blush. I kissed her neck as she ducked her chin against my chest. Damn, she was so responsive.
I snapped the bracelet on her and handed the sales lady my credit card.
“Sir, that�
�s sterling silver and one of a kind. It’s a hundred dollars.”
I waved my hand at her. I didn’t give a damn how much it was. The smile Cherry was beaming at me was priceless.
“No one has ever give me something for no reason.”
“Glad I was your first. Just do me a favor and never take it off.”
Cherry’s eyes rose to meet mine. It startled me how much I already felt for her. I wasn’t supposed to feel those things. I promised myself I would never go there.
We walked the festival hand in hand like we were a normal couple, roaming the aisles between tables, eating cotton candy, even taking a ride on the Ferris wheel. I had never had a day just set aside for fun. I liked it. Even the muscles in my back had started to relax. She could be the one to finally make me happy. If only we had a chance.
“Sir, where have you been? I haven’t seen you around the club in days.” A soft, breathy tone came from behind us.
I froze still at the sound. I had no idea who the voice belonged to but I knew it was no one I wanted to see. I pulled Cherry tightly to my side before turning around. I saw her fidgeting with the bracelet, and I hoped it brought her the confidence she was who I wanted to be with.
Oh hell, a girl with nothing but a bikini top and a pair of daisy dukes was walking up to us, and for the life of me, I had not a fucking clue who she was.
She placed her hand on my chest. I promptly removed it. “Don’t touch me,” I barked and let my dominant side radiate to the surface. As I grew colder, Cherry flinched.
The girl’s hand dropped to her side as she lowered her head. Oh, no, I’m not playing with you ever again.
“Sorry, Sir, I just have missed you,” she said.
The expression on her face said she was totally willing to do my bidding. I only hoped that was true so she would hurry and leave.
“I think it is time you leave.” The cold hardness in my voice startled even me.
I had to calm down because Cherry was not ready to see how cruel I really was.
I let out a puff of air when she quickly walked away without a backwards glance.
“Who was that?” Cherry asked me but kept her eyes firmly on the bracelet.
I hooked my finger around her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I truly have no idea.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “And honestly, I don’t care either.”
She nodded, and I knew she was letting the whole scene go.
“Thank you so much for the bracelet.” She reached up to touch my cheek. “It means a lot.”
I felt like the king of the universe.
Drake Hart
Being with Cherry was one of the best times I remember having . . . well ever. I didn’t feel like an old man in a young man’s body when I was with her. I was carefree and alive. With each second I spent with her, the stress of my past faded away to a small dribble only playing with my mind.
I held her hand tighter and jerked her arm until she was leaning against me. I was at peace when she was near. A concept I knew very little about. She raised her head and smiled then adjusted the bracelet on her arm, and I couldn’t help but wonder what her views on a slave collar was. Whoa, where in the hell did that come from?
Her stomach growled profusely, reminding me that she needed to eat.
Less than twenty minutes later, we were walking into a small country diner, when I laughed at Cherry for pulling up the sweatpants I wore when I did track and field in college. She stumbled, ducked her head, and adorably started chewing on that bottom lip.
“Do you have any idea how cute you are?”
Her nose scrunched up like a bunny, I kissed it. “The most fucking adorable person ever.”
A frown marred her beautiful face. Why, baby?
“What’s wrong?” I took both her hands in mine. “You don’t want to be cute?”
She shook her head but didn’t look at me. “No, because.” She bit harder on the corner of her lip. “Cute is not your thing.”
“Well enlightened me then. What is my thing?” Because I happen to know it is you.
“Hot, Sexy. That’s your thing,” she answered and finally looked up at me.
My heart shattered at the misery in her eyes. James had told her for so long how undesirable she was that she couldn’t see how very fucking sexy I knew she was.
“You’re right. I love sexy. And hot. It is definitely in my top five.” As hard as I tried I couldn’t keep the corner of my mouth into turning up into a smirk. “And you are so damn sexy my body aches just to be near you. I only have two vices in this world, sex and green-eyed angels name Cherry.”
I took her hand and led her to a corner table without another word. I wanted her to process those words and understand I meant every one of them. Sometimes something hurts so bad you quit feeling at all until someone comes around and makes you feel again. I so wanted to be that person for Cherry because she had done that for me. I can’t fall for you, Cherry . . . I’m falling for you, Cherry.
She remained silent as she pretended to study the laminated menu.
“I’ve never had fried liver before. Is that really edible?” Cherry finally broke the silence and asked.
“Yeah, babe, it is. But I prefer the country fried steak.”
Old fashion soul food.
“There specialty are pinto beans and collard greens. My dad swears that the place has better cooking than his Mimi’s.”
I wondered if Cherry cooked. What it would be like to come home at night and set around the table to eat a home cooked meal with her. Stop it, Drake. The last place she would ever be found is around a table with me when she learns what my job truly entailed. Good thing I can cook, because I don’t get the family and home cooking. I only get the sex.
Cherry reached for my hand but I swiftly scooted my chair closer to her, placing a hand on her knee.
“What’s wrong with that side of the table?”
She laughed and those small lines appeared around her eyes. Damn, they were sexy. I might have to tickle her one night until she orgasmed around my cock. It is not easily done but fuck, they say it’s a very intense orgasm.
“You’re not on that side.” I crawled my fingers up her thigh until I reached the bundle of nerves at her opening. Circling my thumb over the material separating my hand from her clit, she clenched her knees together. “That’s mine.”
“No, not here,” she pleaded.
I gulped back the beer I was drinking and looked at the far wall. I was horny as hell. No one had ever told me no. If I wanted to finger fuck them in the middle of Grand Central Station I would. But she said no, and I had never been so turned on.
“Are you mad?” she sounded breathless and fearful.
My heart quivered in my chest. I didn’t want her scared.
“Not mad.” I nuzzled my nose in her hair and whispered, “My dick is so hard right now, I want to scream but only after I pound it over and over again in your pussy.”
"Oh." She sipped on her wine, and the fact was we needed to stop our present line of thoughts, for the both of our sanities.
After we ordered, Cherry slipped off to the restroom to freshen up. I sent a text to Billy, letting him know to go ahead with the check on James Webb. I might not get to keep her but I wouldn’t let that bastard hurt her ever again.
I didn’t notice she had returned until I looked up and caught her watching me. I would give anything to know what she was thinking. Maybe that was her appeal on me, she was the first woman I couldn’t read and calculate her every move.
I stood and politely pulled back the chair for her.
“Good looking and a gentleman too,” she said and set down.
“My dad taught me a lot, and one of the lessons was treating a lady like a lady.”
“Can’t picture you pulling chairs out for the women at your club.”
“Never met a lady there but you. Matter of fact, you’re the first lady I have ever come across.”
The waitress interrupted us at just the right m
oment. I loved surprising her with words I knew would work on her subconscious then giving her the time to process them.
She picked up the salt in sprinkled it over her potatoes. “I . . .” she started to say but stopped herself and stirred the salt around in the potatoes.
“I think they are already dead,” I said and pointed to the mound of potatoes she had whipped into a frenzy.
“Oh,” she said and laughed. Her laugh infected me like a warm hug on a cold winter morning. She popped a fried okra in her mouth.
Cherry Webb
An hour later, I tossed one more okra in my mouth and pushed the plate away.
“Finished?” Drake asked.
I nodded and patted my stomach. Drake dived in and devoured up what was left of my plate. It baffled me how a man so built and muscular could eat enough food in one setting to furnish a small army.
“Please tell me you spend hours in the gym to have that body?”
He laughed and ran a hand over a tight t-shirt that covered his flawless chest and six-pack. “A lot of hours in the gym and even more having sex,” he answered then took a bite of the homemade biscuit.
At least he’s honest, sex is his thing not dating. But he’s dating me, or I think that’s what this is.
“How many women?” I asked, and took a swig of my beer.
“Do you really want to know how many women I’ve been with?” he asked, pulling the bottle from my lips. He leaned forward with an unreadable, stoic look in his eyes. “Why don't you ask me how many women I’ve held all night and cuddled? How many women I would allow to question me?”
“How many?” I asked.
“One. You.”
I couldn’t suppress the satisfying smile threatening to split open my face. “Why me?”
“I wish I could answer that myself.” He sneered a smug smile at the thought. “How many men have you been with?”
I slammed the glass I was holding onto the table. “Three, the guy I dated all through high school, James, and you.”
Cherry Bomb Page 10
