Learning to Breathe: Part One - The Collective - Season 1, Episode 3

by Ellie Masters

The stinging of tears pricked in her eyes. She was making a fool of herself, and there was literally nowhere to run.

  The corners of his mouth curved up. Did he find this funny? There was nothing funny about this at all.

  She pushed him again, only to have him grab her arm.

  “Push and shove all you want; you’re not getting away until I say.”

  Sally stopped struggling.

  He gave her one of his throaty chuckles which did weird things to her insides, good things. “I’ll tell you why I didn’t fuck you…”

  Why play this stupid game?

  She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. “You’re more interested in dinner downstairs than having sex. Why don’t you want to…” Her cheeks heated with the realization of what really bothered her about the whole situation. He wanted her to ask, well, she would ask. “Aren’t you interested?”

  As horrible as it was to sound needy, the words were out there. All her insecurities voiced in one complicated question. She choked back a sob, but he heard it.

  Derek held her, his fingers wrapping in her hair. Then he gathered her hair in a ponytail and pulled until her head tilted back. He pummeled her with feather light kisses, beginning on her eyelids where he kissed away her tears, then traveled to her cheeks, her nose, and finally settled on her mouth.

  He swept a lock of hair off her face. “If all I wanted was a good fuck, I’d be there right now, drilling you until you screamed.”

  “But, you made me come, don’t you want to…do…that…too?” Sally lifted her gaze and boldly stared at him.

  “What kind of men have you been surrounding yourself with? This isn’t a game where we keep score. Let me make things simple for you. I want you, and I’ll have you. But on my terms.”

  “Don’t you want me?” Stupid question, because he’d just said he did. No man had ever made her feel as desirable, or wanted, as Derek, but she didn’t understand why he didn’t pursue the obvious.

  He kissed her forehead. A sweet gesture, which made her insides go all gooey and melt.

  “Listen,” he said. Derek grasped her hands and lifted them to his mouth. His lips brushed her knuckles. “You’re not ready to be fucked, at least not from a man who’s not your husband. I see it in your eyes. I feel it in your breath. Your mind is spinning, thinking about him, about me. And you’re feeling guilty for feeling good. Part of you is in a state of bliss. The other? Well, that part feels guilty betraying the memory of your husband…a dead husband. We’ll work on that, but it’s going to take more than one night. Surrender to your feelings. Surrender to me. Know that I would never hurt you.”

  The truth of his words slammed into her heart, crushing it with a depth of perception she couldn’t imagine. He’d silenced her with his compassion for the guilt she’d barely been able to name.

  “I’m not here to fill his shoes. Fucking you is the worst thing I could do right now, at least if I want to see you again. I’ve already told you this. I’m interested in more than a one-night stand. Don’t be ashamed of what just happened, or how much you enjoyed it. Give yourself permission to let go.”

  “I…”

  “We’re not finished. The night is long, but for now, it’s time to eat, and you need time alone with those thoughts tumbling about in your head.”

  His words sunk in. She wasn’t sure she believed what he said, even if she felt the truth of his message.

  Speaking into the lull of their conversation, her stomach grumbled again. She covered her belly, a look of mortification passed over her face. “Excuse me.”

  “Guess hunger wins out over sex, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re completely satisfied before morning.” He winked and lifted her off the table. When they reached the stairs, he turned suddenly, pulling her up short. “Make noise coming down the stairs. We’ve left Warren too long with his wife. If I know my friends, we were engaged in the PG-13 version of what’s happening down there.”

  “What about Karl? And Justine?”

  Derek pulled her down the stairs to the main deck clomping his feet on the stairs.

  He gave her a look. “If Karl’s there, he’s either watching or actively participating.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Warren and Karl enjoy threesomes, and Ellen isn’t in a position to refuse.”

  “What about Justine?”

  “Justine does as she’s told.” Derek smirked.

  “What are you then? Exhibitionist? Voyeur?” She’d only ever read about this kind of thing, and to think she might be stepping into an orgy had her slowing her step. Not that she couldn’t have an open mind, but those kinds of opportunities had never presented themselves before.

  At the bottom of the stairs, he pulled her to him. “I like control. I’m also not one to share what’s mine. Don’t worry, beautiful. You’re mine.”

  His comment soothed her racing heart. The goal of the evening had been to keep an open mind. She’d opened her legs but wasn’t sure she could open her mind to threesomes, foursomes, orgies, or worse. Being shared with others most definitely wasn’t her thing.

  Since she was trapped on a boat somewhere in the middle of the San Francisco Bay, there wasn’t much she could do, but one thing was certain. She didn’t mind Derek’s bossy side. Quite the opposite. It intrigued her, and she needed to find out more.

  For now, she was his willing prisoner. That didn’t feel too bad.

  PART THREE

  A Whirlwind

  Chapter 11

  A Dinner

  When Sally and Derek entered the main cabin, Warren and Karl were seated on the two couches, a fur rug spread between them. Karl sipped from a tumbler of amber liquid and raised it in greeting. Warren had his back to them, head tilted back, his mouth open.

  A low groan escaped him, and he lifted his head. “Your timing sucks,” he complained. “Up,” he barked to Ellen. He then shifted to a more upright position.

  Ellen peeked over the back of the couch and wiped the corner of her mouth. Flame red curls framed her face, and her eyes widened with excitement. “Sally! Did you have fun?”

  “Ellen…” Warren’s low warning tone gave Sally pause.

  Did everyone know what happened up on that deck? Mortified by that thought, she pulled up short.

  Derek pressed a hand gently to the small of her back. “Relax,” he soothed.

  But it was difficult to relax knowing everyone in that room assumed she and Derek had just had sex. Even worse because it was true.

  Almost true.

  Derek guided her past the couches, his towering presence supportive and oddly comforting. With him close, her fears eased and became less substantive, if that were possible. The horrible social awkwardness invading every thought faded to a tolerable murmur. And that shame radiating outward and heating her cheeks? She owned it and made it a source of pride. Or tried too.

  So what if they’d been having sex? Technically, they hadn’t had intercourse. What a horrible word that was, intercourse. Clinical and stale, her mind retreated to that of an intellectual when messy emotions reared their ugly heads. She refused to be that person and changed the words.

  He’d fucked her with his fingers. He’d sucked her with his mouth. His tongue had stroked her higher and higher, until she’d flown free, landing safely in his arms. And she wanted his penis—no! — his cock! That thought had her squeezing her thighs together, trying to ease the sudden throbbing between them. She wanted to feel the fullness of his cock breaching her lips, her pussy, stretching its walls and pounding into her with brutal aggression. She wanted her toes to curl and her back to arch as she screamed his name and begged for more.

  And there was more. So much more. She refused to be ashamed by what she wanted because she wanted all of him. She wouldn’t fear what he promised would come next.

  Red.

  He’d given her that word. A person would have to have been living under a rock not to understand what came with that word.

  Derek intende
d to usher her into a new world.

  She glanced at him, gazed into the depth of his eyes, at the confidence radiating from this man, and asked herself if she could follow. While intimidating in their own right, Karl and Warren seemed content to let Derek take charge. They clearly followed his instructions. Even now, Warren zipped his fly, covering up because of a promise to Derek to behave.

  Sally gripped Derek’s hand, needing the firm squeeze he returned. His hand engulfed hers, strong where hers was delicate. Rough where hers was soft. Confident where insecurity filled her every breath.

  Kneeling by Warren’s feet, Ellen’s eyes drifted shut. Warren had his fingers entwined in her hair, and he gave gentle tugs, pulling her against his leg. Ellen smiled and leaned against him, her contentment evident in the ease of her breath and her relaxed posture.

  Justine’s posture mirrored Ellen’s almost perfectly. Seated on the floor, she curled her boyish frame around Karl’s leg, her body pressed tight against him. She had an arm wrapped around his calf, and her cheek rested against his knee. Silent as a mouse, her happiness couldn’t have been more obvious. Karl flipped her long, iron-straight hair back and forth over his leg, reaching down to rub her head and run his fingers through her hair.

  Cats! That was it. The women reminded her of cats curled up at their masters’ feet, being caressed with love, and purring with the attention.

  “How was your video game?” Derek asked. Amusement laced through his words; a private joke she didn’t understand.

  Warren’s overly large teeth flashed, and his mustache twitched. “Explosive comes to mind.” He gripped Ellen’s curls and gave them a tug. “Right, Ellen?”

  Her easy smile lit up the room. “Yes, M…quite satisfying.”

  Karl gathered Justine’s hair at her nape and lifted her into his lap for a kiss. “Maybe we can play doubles later tonight?”

  Warren ruffled Ellen’s hair. “Oh, I think we can make that happen.”

  “You guys ready to eat?” Derek asked. He brought Sally to the dinner table and pulled out her chair. The dining chairs seemed to be the only furniture not bolted to the deck.

  Immaculately set with brass chargers and fine china, platters of food had been placed down the middle of the table. Copper, not silver, domes covered the serving trays, hiding what was underneath, but steam escaped from the rims to fill the room with mouthwatering smells. Tiny flames heated the undersides of the trays, keeping whatever was inside nice and warm. Two brass candelabras, which hadn’t been there before, had been added to the table. Flames licked the wicks of slender white tapers, dancing to the vibrations in the air.

  Derek moved to the bar, and with the flick of a switch, all light dimmed, leaving flickering candlelight to illuminate the room. The glow of the moon shone through the panoramic windows, and Sally brought her hands to her chest, trying not to be overwhelmed and failing miserably.

  He’d wanted tonight to be special.

  Derek returned with a chilled bottle. He uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. “Warren,” he asked, “will you be drinking wine with dinner?”

  “I’m switching to beer, and Ellen’s done for the night,” he answered.

  Ellen frowned, but didn’t argue, even if her eyes fixed on the wine in Sally’s glass.

  Karl rose from the couch. He pulled Justine into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sticking with Scotch.”

  Derek took the seat at the head of the table. He positioned Sally to his right. Warren pulled back the seat beside Sally and helped Ellen scoot forward. He then sat at the other end of the table. Karl placed the quiet Justine across from Sally and plopped down in the last seat.

  Candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows and light through the room. Sally placed her hands in her lap, twisting them with nerves. Small talk had never been her strength. Now that everyone had gathered around the dinner table, her awkwardness would become painfully evident.

  As if waiting for the diners to be seated, two waiters appeared from behind a closed door. They removed the domed lids and revealed the treasures underneath.

  She gasped.

  In front of her was the largest tray of crab legs she had ever seen. Surely it was more than the six of them could eat. The next tray held stuffed shrimp. The tray in front of Ellen held two cream soups, one white and the other tinted an orangish-pink. The servers offered them bread, filled tiny bowls with drawn butter, and poured water into the crystal glasses.

  “The soup on the left is cream of crab, the other is lobster bisque,” Derek said. “Which do you prefer?”

  “They both smell heavenly.” She wanted both. “I’ll start with the crab soup.”

  A server ladled soup into her bowl, then filled the others according to their wishes. The second server piled their plates with crab legs and shrimp. When they were done, the men disappeared behind the doorway leaving them alone.

  Sally stared at her plate, her mouth watering at the scrumptious food that had been served. Derek grabbed her napkin, flicked it open, and placed it across her lap. He unfolded his and tucked it in his lap. Karl and Warren mimicked Derek’s actions, each taking care of their dates before themselves.

  Derek placed a hand on Sally’s thigh. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m in heaven,” she said. She looked out the window. “I can’t believe I’m here, looking at this view, sitting down to this dinner.” She lowered her voice. “I’m in ‘amazing’ overload.”

  Derek beamed. “That’s exactly what I was going for, complete sensory overload.”

  “Poor Sally,” Ellen said with a dramatic sigh, “you don’t stand a chance. Not if he’s turned on the charm.” Ellen leaned close and whispered loudly for all to hear. “Make him work for it.”

  “Ellen,” Warren snapped, clearly more amused by his wife’s antics than annoyed. “Sally can take care of herself.”

  “Well, M—respectfully—that’s where you’re wrong. Sally needs all the help she can get.” Ellen stuck her tongue out. “She’s at an unfair disadvantage with all you masterly types around.”

  Sally couldn’t help but laugh at the teasing play. She and Thomas had been like that once, before the ravages of cancer turned every moment serious.

  Derek said nothing, which was odd. She’d expected him to respond, but he ignored Ellen, turning his attention to cracking crab legs and pulling out the tender meat. Instead of eating it himself, he placed the crab on her plate, saving her the chore of having to crack the legs herself.

  He and Karl discussed futures and commodities. Warren joined their conversation. Justine said nothing, eating only what Karl fed her with his hand. Ellen held her own with the men, arguing margins with the ease of an expert. She and Warren traded intermittent insults, joking throughout the meal. Ellen generally got the upper hand in their verbal sparring, but Sally suspected Ellen would somehow pay for her good-natured ribbing later.

  For her part, Sally did her best to follow the conversation. They spoke with the ease of longtime friends, teasing one another more often than not. And while they all bent over backward to make her feel welcome, she still felt like an outsider among this intimate group.

  It didn’t matter, though. The food was fabulous and the view spectacular. Sally took her cue from Justine who seemed to be making it through the meal without saying a word. Ellen wouldn’t allow it, however, and after a few minutes of general get-to-know-you questions, Ellen had Sally feeling like a long-lost sister.

  Despite Ellen’s interest in Sally’s unusual career, Sally couldn’t keep her mind off Derek and what had happened upstairs. His lips had been like velvet. His kisses punishing and insistent. His touch electrifying. And his fingers had driven her wild.

  Ellen seemed to pick up on the direction of Sally’s thoughts. “I take it things went well upstairs?” She leaned close. This time her whisper was just for the two of them. “He’s a great man, and he adores you.” She squeezed Sally’s knee, the gesture one of affection between close friends.

/>   Sally’s face heated and she prayed Karl and Warren would think it was from the wine. Derek caught their exchange, and the corner of his mouth quirked into a smug smile.

  Dinner passed quickly and before she knew it, Derek was helping her up from her seat.

  “Gentlemen,” he said in a low voice. “This room is all yours for your doubles tournament. We’re taking the sky deck.”

  “The sky deck,” Ellen complained. “I wanted to soak in the hot tub tonight. That’s not fair!”

  Warren lifted his wife out of her chair into his embrace. “Be quiet. I have better uses for that mouth of yours.” He silenced her protests with a kiss. Ellen struggled for half a moment before folding into her husband’s embrace. She whimpered and moaned as she melted into him.

  Derek grabbed Sally by the hand. “Come,” he called quietly. “Leave them to their play. I want to sit under the stars and stare at the moon while I ravish you.”

  Her breath hitched with excitement. She’d never met a man who spoke so freely about what he wanted. Warren and Karl stepped over to the smoky glass housing the electronics and argued over what game they would play. Derek pulled her out of the cabin, up the stairs to the upper deck, and up one final set of stairs to the very top of the yacht where she yearned to be ravished.

  Chapter 12

  Floating on Top of the World

  The sky deck held a Jacuzzi tub surrounded by a circular couch and nothing else. Above, there was a retractable awning, which Derek pulled back to expose the stars twinkling in a moonlit sky.

  The way the sky deck perched over the top of the yacht, she felt as if she were floating over the top of the world, suspended above the dark waters, soaring as it were. The San Francisco Bay was unnaturally calm. Gentle swells barely rocked the yacht.

  An intimate retreat, away from the dock and surrounded by the vastness of the ocean, she felt isolated from the rest of the world.

  There was no confusion regarding Derek’s intentions, but rather than embracing the intimacy of the moment, she shied away, feeling suddenly chaste and insecure. Derek quieted her nerves with a look, telling her that wasn’t allowed.