by Claire, Ava
She pulled her shades from the crown of her head, black and gray layers moving to frame her face. “I’m unfamiliar with her work, honestly.”
“That’s not surprising,” I commented, closing folders since this obviously wasn’t gonna be a drive by situation. “You don’t strike me as a fan of teen shows.” Or happiness and joy.
“Hmm,” she mused with a chuckle. “Right. Still, I found myself drawn to the child’s story. Very tragic.”
“Well, the media does a good job of playing it up for ratings.”
“I’m sorry, is suicide not a serious issue?” Her painted lips were a burgundy line of disapproval.
Alicia Whitmore disapproving of anything was a problem for me and I was not gonna be lectured about the seriousness of suicide by her. Not after what Jacob told me.
“You tell me, Alicia. Is suicide a serious issue?”
Her face paled slightly and the grin that curled her lips cut as she recovered. “You and Jacob have been talking I see.”
“That’s right,” I fired back. “Healthy couples talk about things.” My voice was already high and agitated, my emotions on my sleeve. “I suppose you’re unfamiliar with that concept, given your history.” It should have been a zing, plus one to Leila, but it just felt mean. I could see the effect the words had on her despite her best efforts and it made me feel guilty. She’d probably celebrate if I fell off the face of the earth yet she was making me feel like a horrible person. Ugh.
Alicia rolled her shoulders back, shrugging away my comment. “You’re young, Leila. You know nothing of what a healthy relationship really entails. Or how something good can turn rotten.”
“True. But I know I’d never use mental illness as a way to control my husband and child.”
“Fair enough, but how can you know how married life will change you? How the years will change Jacob?”
I hated to admit that Alicia Whitmore got anything right but if I put aside my intense dislike of the woman, I knew she had a point. I did wonder how marriage would change things. I knew he was a good man and that he loved me, but his childhood scarred him. I felt like I was still peeling back layers of the things that shaped him. That haunted him. As much as I wanted to believe our love could conquer all, it couldn’t fix the holes in his heart.
I’d never tell her that.
Ever.
I drummed my nails on the top of my desk. “I’m very busy, Alicia. What is it that you want?”
“Mia Kent—” I let out a groan but she held up a hand. “—Let me finish.” Her face changed, looking almost...human.
I pulled my hands to my lap. I guess I’d let her talk. I was slightly curious where this was going. “Okay.”
“Her story reminds me of myself.” When I ducked my chin down a few inches and gave her the most incredulous look I could muster, she added, “Not that. When I was younger. When Carlton and I first married.
I told you about how in love I was, but I talked like we never had any good times. Like he was always cheating.” She gave me a hint of a smile, lips curling into something that resembled something genuine. “You should have seen us. We turned heads.” She twisted her mouth to the side, her eyes twinkling at some memory of then. “Turned stomachs. We kissed so much our lips were practically glued together. And we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. A year in and people thought we were newlyweds. I couldn’t stop smiling I was so happy.”
Smiling? Happy? Both were words that just didn’t line up with the cold woman I knew.
“The first time he cheated, I was numb. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t happening to me. Sure, he had a reputation, but he broke other woman’s hearts. Not mine. Not his wife.” She brought a finger to her ear and started spinning her pearl earring. “It didn't help that he promised me it wouldn’t happen again. That he loved me. So I shrugged it off as something that happens. The price I had to pay for how great things were 99% of the time.” She stopped fiddling with her earring, her face darkening. “And then he did it again.”
I didn’t want to pity this woman. She’d been awful to me. And as far as Jacob? There were no words to describe my anger at the way she’d treated him. The way she was still trying to control him. But I was human and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
“The second time was different,” she continued, crossing one slender leg over the other. “And it wasn’t the fact that the woman was my best friend. That rolled right off me. That meant nothing. It was the lie that hurt. Feeling like I wasn’t enough. Wondering if this would really be my life—never having him fully. I felt like such an idiot for thinking infidelity was the price of doing business. That I was dumb enough to think that it was just a one-time thing.
I looked myself in the mirror and wondered if it was me. If I wasn’t pretty enough. Sexy enough. Just...enough.” She rose to her feet, unbuttoning the cuff of her sleeve then slowly rolling it back to her elbow.
She held out her arm toward me, the pale skin smooth and luminescent.
I quirked an eyebrow. “What am I looking for exactly?”
“Look closer.”
We were already too close for comfort, but I inched a little closer, squinting. My mouth opened in shock as I made out the delicate lines near the crease where her forearm met her bicep. Tiny silver scars that were nearly faded, making them easy to miss. Now I couldn’t help but see.
I peered up at her in disbelief. “You were a cutter?”
She yanked her sleeve back down like she was embarrassed by the term. “I was just overwhelmed. I couldn’t control him. I couldn’t control the way he made me feel or my inability to leave him. But that...” She buttoned the cuff in a single motion. “I could do that. But each new betrayal and I sliced a little deeper, wanting to drag it along my wrists. Wanting to...” She cleared her throat and gave her head a shake like she was clearing out the images and feelings. When her eyes opened and met mine it was almost like she hadn’t been talking about how she harmed herself. That intricately maintained image was back in place.
“I know that you think I’m a monster, but believe me when I say that Jacob made me happy. When he was a baby and looked up at me with those eyes, his father’s eyes-”
Just the sound of Jacob’s name was enough to remind me what person in this sordid tale deserved my sympathy. “The things you did to the son you claim you love are horrible.”
“I’m not a good mother, I know that. But Carlton-”
I brought up a hand. “Stop right there. Carlton Whitmore was a prick when you met him. You admitted as much. You said he even told you he was bad news. Maybe you were trying to get attention from your parents, feeling adventurous, whatever, but you made the choice to be with him, Alicia. I’m not sorry you did because Jacob is alive because of it and I can’t imagine my life without him. He’s a great man in spite of you and your husband. He is the only thing that matters to me. Not your sad love story.”
“I’m trying to explain that Carlton is the reason-”
“NO!” I snapped, bringing a fist down hard on my desk. The sound was like a gunshot, quieting her. Even I paused for a moment, surprised I’d done it. “You are the reason, Alicia. Your husband cheated because he was horrible, but YOU enabled him by not leaving. You made the choice to stay in an unhappy marriage and bring a child into your messed up reality. You made the choice to punish the son for the sins of his father.
Carlton is dead...he can’t atone for what he did. But you’re alive and kicking and instead of starting over with your son and trying to be the mother he deserves, you’re, well, you.”
She locked her jaw, still not hearing me. “I know how this looks from the outside-”
“No you don’t. I swear you don’t. If you did you wouldn’t be in my office right now trying to explain yourself to me,” I said, crossing my arms. “You’d be explaining yourself to your son.”
If nothing else reached her ears and really sunk in, I hoped it would be that. Hearing about her past, her hurt, it helped me piec
e together the things that played a role in the woman she’d become. But none of that mattered to me in the long run. Jacob mattered. Her sob story was just that—a river of tears about a society girl who fell for a bad boy. The only thing that made it worth listening to was that they had a child. Jacob.
They could have sat down and determined that they weren’t in love and subjecting their child to their unhappiness wasn’t fair to him, but that conversation didn’t happen and Jacob paid the price. He was the one that grew up thinking that his parents didn’t care about him. If Alicia was being honest and there was love there, he deserved to hear that. Not me.
But Alicia didn’t even flinch.
She rose to her feet. Chin up. Ice on. “Thank you for your time.”
The anger erupted as I hurled a folder at the door as it clicked closed behind her, watching the papers flutter lazily to the floor.
****
I stood a few feet from the elevator, so excited I felt like I was gonna explode. The doors slid open.
“Surprise!”
His eyes drifted downward, taking in the new piece of furniture I was sitting on, his mouth quirking into a smile. "You brought Mia Kent on as a client. I should be surprising you." The smile broadened.
He really liked it.
A brand new spanking bench.
His briefcase was discarded unceremoniously as he circled the thing. Since I ordered it online, I knew I ran the risk of falling in love with something underwhelming and cheap in person, but the pictures didn’t do it justice. The mahogany was rich, the dark stain giving it a sleek, modern edge. The plush leather cushion had a sloping design that catered to a woman’s curves. Sterling silver hooks hung below it, waiting for rope or handcuffs or whatever bondage material that tickled one’s fancy.
He leaned down, brushing the material, still digesting what stood before him. “You bought this? Had it delivered and assembled?”
I nodded demurely. “Something for us.”
Jacob’s stony face reaction when I told him about meeting with his mother flashed in my head. I gave the woman the benefit of the doubt, wrongly assuming her conscience would have led her to at least talk to her son instead of putting me in an awkward situation. She hadn’t even stopped by his office after paying me a visit, leaving me to tell Jacob that she felt comfortable baring her soul to a stranger that she hated instead of her flesh and blood.
But my exhaustion was more than mental and emotional. Mia made me work for that signature, calling me all hours of the night because she wanted coffee. Wanted to go to some hipster store after hours. Wanted some impossible dish at 2 in the morning. I could barely keep up, but after I got over the slight annoyance at her wearing out my cell, I loved it. Hearing about her past. Sharing my own. It was like having a little sister. But getting her to agree on becoming a client was the easy part. Now it was time for the hard work of rebuilding her career.
I looked up at Jacob, his eyes bright as a kid’s with a shiny new toy. Tonight wasn’t about his mother or Mia or anything else but the two of us. Tonight was about submission.
I was ready. My hair was down, wild and free the way he liked it. I had nothing on other than a ruby red lacy chemise that made my skin look rich and supple. He picked up the cuffs I had sitting on the cushion beside me, just waiting to be secured around my wrists. And my body? He hadn’t even touched me yet and I trembled. My breasts ached, nipples swollen against the sultry material that bound them. Goosebumps spread with every breath I took. My core clenched when he stepped closer. I was already so wet, so ready that I was surprised I didn't slip right off the bench.
He tugged his tie loose, eyes drinking me in nice and slow. “The bench is lovely, Leila.” I closed my eyes as his fingers sifted through my curls. “You’re lovely.”
I knew he thought I was beautiful. Found my curls and curves sexy. He could barely keep his hands off me in the morning when my hair was sticking out all over the place and I wore the ratty t-shirt that hugged me in ways that used to make me feel self-conscious. But lovely meant something else tonight. I saw it shining in his eyes as his fingers drifted to my cheek and he traced my jawline, hitting the edge but repeating it like he couldn’t bear to stop touching me. Lovely had nothing to do with what was on the outside. He saw what was beneath. He saw me.
He raised my chin and took my lips in his, his tongue melting against mine. The ache between my legs grew and he paused, smiling against my lips. He could read my body like an open book.
“I want to see you.” His voice deepened, the timbre making my core clench with recognition. His bedroom voice. Low. Sensual. “All of you.”
I went to yank the straps down, caution and decorum fading as I let my lust take the wheel.
Jacob’s hand covered mine, stopping me. “Slowly.” His tone had hints of amusement as he released me and stood back. “We have plenty of time and plenty to do, Leila. Take it easy.”
I felt a flash of rebellion at his flagrant disregard at my attempt to show how badly I wanted him. Take it easy? With him standing there, watching me strip with that heat in his eyes? My own darted to his crotch and it did nothing but make me more impatient. His erection made the throb turn into an overpowering ache. I could make out every thickened inch, wrapping around his thigh, piercing the tailored seams.
I looked up from the yummy bulge, hoping a stern look from him would calm me down, but there was no such luck. The cool mask of my dominant was cracked. His lips were parted, trembling ever so slightly. Blue eyes watched me intently, like he was daring me to mouth off. Hoping for it.
I didn’t disappoint.
I hitched a breath, feigning shock as I yanked the strap down, heart thumping when I heard the static sound as the material ripped and my breast sprung free. I glared at him disobediently, taking in the hard set of his jaw before I pointedly dropped my eyes to his erection.
I bit my lips. “Oops.”
I'd been so sure directly disobeying him would have provoked him. He would come closer, knot his fingers in my hair and order me to flip over so he could show me what happened when I forgot my place. It's what had me watching every line of his face, practically chanting silently for them to tighten. Looking into the eyes that pierced, waiting for them to blaze. But he just stood there, face blank. No, not blank—unimpressed. Bored.
And I'd just ripped my brand new chemise.
He was definitely playing hard to get. Usually my punishment was immediate. I'd already be pressed into the cushion. Strapping me down would be irrelevant because I wouldn't be going anywhere. My whole body would be taut, heart beating in my ears as I waited for the whistle as his hand cut through the air and collided with my ass.
But right now, I was still upright. Butt in the wrong direction. Not breathing through the strikes as pain met molten pleasure. Right now all I felt was frustration.
I had no need of stony faced Jacob, watching me intently when it was clear I was in need of some hard loving. Maybe it wasn't clear...so I jerked the other side down, the material slinking to my waist. Both breasts exposed, chest heaving as I glared at him defiantly.
Spank me. Punish me. Just take me. "What are you waiting for?"
His cool eyes dropped to his cuff and he slowly rolled up his sleeves. "This little display was endearing at first. You know how I love it when you beg. Usually, I'm so caught up in you I let your obvious attempts at lording your will over me slide." He leaned in and I closed my eyes, giddy at the thought of him punishing me, but he reached beside me, tugging at one of the hooks on the bench.
"This bench is a sign of a lifestyle. One where a submissive gives control, her being, over to her lover. Her Dominant." His eyes narrowed. "How have you given yourself over to me? All I see is a petulant child trying to provoke me. It is a waste, Leila. You know how this ends, with you on your stomach, ass in the air. Why force my hand?" He gave me a wilting look when I remained quiet. "Now you choose to listen? Answer my question."
Because the patience is a virtue st
uff is BS. I censored my answer. "I just want you, Jacob."
"And I want your submission." He brought his index finger to his chin, tapping it lightly as he thought something over. "Perhaps I should send you downstairs to check the mail as you are. Go for a drive with you wearing nothing at all beside me."
Heat tingled in my cheeks at the thought of being naked in public. Being seen. "Jacob..."
"You've forgotten what submission is," he cut in smoothly. "It's more than rough sex, Leila. More than being tied up and tied down. It's pushing limits. Exploring your sexuality." He snapped his fingers. "Get up."
I snapped to my feet, not sure what to expect. I definitely wasn't expecting him to step around me and pick up the bench and walk toward the...
Oh my god.
He was taking it outside to the patio.
Memories of touching myself on the wicker chair, my nerves, and the way it felt to release my inhibitions rocked me. Touching myself was one thing, but Jacob spanking me out there? I was rooted firmly in place, the old, familiar pangs of apprehension back.
He stepped back through the French doors, wearing an evil smile. “What’s the problem? I thought you couldn’t wait to try out the spanking bench?” The smile hardened. “Isn’t that why you disobeyed me?”
I bit my lip, keeping my retort to myself. He knew better than anyone how self-conscious I got when I thought anyone was watching.
That’s the whole point, Lay. Pushing your limits. Jacob taking charge instead of the other way around.
It didn’t help psych me up for what he wanted to do out there.
I took a few steps forward, bringing my working strap back up, using my other hand to cover my other breast. “I shouldn’t have provoked you. I just really want you. Wanted this.”
He leaned against the doorway, his steely eyes telling me it was too little, too late. “And I want you. I plan on spanking you, Leila. Right out there.”
My throat tightened. It was dinnertime and it was perfect windows open weather. There were probably even people out on their patios. Before, I worried we might be heard. There was no longer a maybe. We would be heard.
