by Eileen Green
It seemed like minutes before they arrived at her apartment uptown, but she knew it had taken longer than that. Paying the man, she made her way upstairs. After closing and locking her door behind her, she threw herself on her couch and cried.
***
All eyes were on the duo as they strode through the office building near Times Square. Back in the day, JC was used to this kind of exposure, the women gravitating towards him for autographs, pictures, and offers of sex.
Brock was very seldom approached since most of his business was behind the camera. You’d have to be a member of a certain site genre on his website to know who he was. Occasionally someone recognized him, but it was very rare.
Today, JC thought it was because of how determined they both looked. Black jeans and black t-shirts along with their black motorcycle boots leant a very ominous look to them.
At the bank of elevators, impatience was the mood as they waited for an available car. People stared but didn’t approach which pleased JC. They really didn’t want to stop for anyone. There was an agenda and they intended to stick to it.
When an elevator became available, they rushed in. JC punched the button for the floor they needed. No one else entered with them as if everyone was giving them space.
Once the doors closed, JC tried to compose himself. He hadn’t been in public for so long that this felt foreign to him, but he wasn’t going to stop. He wanted who they came for, and both he and Brock weren’t leaving without her.
The rise of the elevator was slow but relief finally overcame him when the doors open and they walked out onto the first floor of the MVC offices. Stepping up to the reception desk, JC looked at the woman who sat there with a shocked expression, her mouth half hanging open.
“We’re here to see Dwayne Thompson.” He was short and to the point as there wasn’t any sense prolonging what they were there for.
When the young African-American with runway model features continued to stare, Brock barked at her. “Now!” She shook her head as if clearing it and then quickly pressed a button on the switchboard before her.
It was a couple of seconds before she spoke. “Sir, I have two rather intimidating men in the lobby demanding to see you.” She lowered her voice and turned her head slightly. “One of them looks like JC.” Another button pushed as panic shadowed her features before a smile was slipped in place. “Please, have a seat. Mr. Thompson will be with you in a few minutes.”
Looking behind him, JC found a pleasant seating area with two black leather sofas and three chrome chairs with black leather cushions facing each other around a chrome and glass coffee table. Several People magazines along with some trade mags were neatly fanned out on the flat surface.
Too antsy to sit, JC paced. Brock stood looking at the pictures of some of the music stars that had been lucky enough to be featured on MVC.
When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, JC looked over in that direction. He was surprised to see the man they wanted exiting the contraption. Brock made a beeline for him.
“Dwayne!” he exclaimed as he extended his hand.
Dwayne Thompson shook Brock’s hand before turning to JC. JC shook the man’s hand. “Gentlemen. What can I help you with today?”
The smirk on the man’s face was irritating. JC wanted to smack that look off Dwayne’s face.
“We need to know where to find Skye,” Brock said blatantly.
Dwayne looked confused at Brock’s statement before sweeping his arm out to indicate they should sit. He spoke as they did so. “What do you mean? I thought when she called to say she wasn’t coming in that she was with you two. What happened?”
Once seated, JC on one corner of a couch, Brock on the closest corner of the other one, and Dwayne on the edge of the coffee table, they leaned in closer to each other.
“We had a nice dinner after the concert; we made love to her, and told her our intentions. This morning, she panicked and took off.” Brock explained, barely above a whisper. “We thought we’d find her here.”
Dwayne shook his head. He kept his voice low also. “I really had hoped you two could help her break out of her shell. I know that you two are very interested in her, and I thought you’d be able to help her. How’d she take the BDSM stuff?”
“She kept badmouthing herself about her weight, so she ended up with a spanking. She took it quite well. I don’t think that’s what scared her off.” JC had to add in his thoughts.
“Then what did?” asked Dwayne. “She doesn’t scare easily.”
“Even after being attacked by Billy Craven?” JC inquired, a bitter taste on his tongue with that vile man’s name. The thought that the man put his hands on Skye even though he and Brock didn’t know her at the time it happened, pissed JC off.
Dwayne sighed. “Skye is a strong woman. She’s had to be to get through her life. The attack had made her weary of people, but she remains strong. The one thing that she has a problem with, is, herself. She doubts herself as a sensual person. An underlying quality that I have seen makes me believe she would be a great submissive. That’s why when you inquired about her, I knew she would be perfect for you.
“She doubts herself so much that it has become an obstacle for her as a woman. I really like Skye. She is a great journalist, and I don’t want to lose her, but I’m afraid if she keeps going the way she is, burning the candles at both ends, not having friends, afraid to let herself go, she’s going to have a breakdown. I want to help her, but I have ulterior motives and I don’t want her to think that’s the only reason why I’m helping her.”
“We don’t intend to lose her, Dwayne. We need her address. She would have gone home to hide.” Brock stood. JC followed suit.
Dwayne stood and walked over to the reception desk. “I need Skye’s address,” he said to the receptionist before turning back to JC and Brock. “She moved about eight months ago and I have never been there.”
“Here you go, sir,” the woman at the desk said, holding out a slip of paper.
Brock grabbed the paper and headed to the elevator. He punched the down button and waited. JC shook Dwayne’s hand. “Thanks. We’ll be in touch, as will Skye.”
The man nodded as the elevator bell announced its arrival. JC followed Brock inside and they began their descent. They would grab another cab out front and head uptown to find Skye. This time, they weren’t going to let her go.
Chapter Ten
The pounding on the door wouldn’t cease, or at least Skye hoped it was on the door. It didn’t feel as if it was in her head. When her cell phone played an old JC tune, she became aware of her surroundings.
The fuzziness inside her head dissipated a bit as she reached for her phone. Looking at the number, she tossed the device back on the coffee table as she groaned. The pounding occurred again.
Pushing herself up from the couch and making her way to the door, she had to wonder why someone was at her door. The doorman always announced her visitors, so perhaps it was someone from the building.
Not bothering to check the peephole, she flung the door open, trying to keep her irritation under control. Gasping at whom she found there, she tried to slam the door.
Brock put his hand out, connecting with the closing door. Stepping out of the way of the rebounding panel, Skye’s voice seemed to have fled. She shook her head as she backed up while the two men entered her apartment and closed the door behind them.
The snick of the lock was loud and ominous, announcing their aloneness. Skye stopped when her ass hit the sofa table behind her, the few knick knacks rattling a bit. “How did you find out where I live?” she asked, harshness mixed in with her panic.
A sardonic smile crossed Brock’s face as he moved towards her. JC remained at the door, leaning against it as if she was going to try to escape.
She would if she could.
“We have our connections, little one. You’ll be surprised at what we are capable of.” He halted less than a foot away from Skye, but left space between the
m.
The man before her crossed his arms across his chest, displaying his anger. That registered in Skye’s brain, but her girly parts noticed his bi-ceps bulging with the position.
She had felt the strength in them the night before and she longed to feel them again, but she didn’t want to have her heart broken. They were going to take the control she had built up over so much time, and she couldn’t let that happen.
Trying to swallow the panic that rose within her, she felt as if she would choke. She needed to get them out of her house.
“Look, I appreciate all the nice things you said last night, and for the sex…” She stopped when both men seemed to growl at her.
Brock moved, his hand moving to her chin. There was an edge to his voice. “It wasn’t sex, Skye. We made love. All of us made love last night.” He stepped forward until they were touching. “And, we’re going to do it again, and again. We’re going to be making love for the rest of our lives.”
Surprise overcame her when she pushed against him, knocking him off balance slightly, enough to let her move away from him. Sitting in her favorite rocker, she crossed her arms in front of her, hoping it would tell them she wasn’t interested.
They weren’t giving up. JC pushed himself away from the door and stalked his way towards her. Brock moved around what little furniture she had and came to sit on the old wood coffee table in front of her.
Her living room furniture, or what passed for it, was left over from her grandmother’s house. She wasn’t home enough to justify buying new furniture. A couch, a rocking chair, a coffee table, and a sofa table filled the room. It did look like something from the sixties or seventies.
Geez, she needed new furniture.
JC knelt next to the rocker and without looking, Skye could feel both sets of eyes set on her. She wanted to avoid looking at them. It would be better that way. Eventually, if she ignored them, they would leave.
Brock leaned forward and placed his hands on her knees causing her to draw her legs up to her chest and rest her feet on the seat. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she glared at the man, daring him to touch her again.
“You’re acting very childish, little one,” Brock said, thrusting his chin out at her as if chastising a child.
“Then stop calling me little one,” she spat back.
“You’re really racking up the spankings, baby girl. You should stop while you’re ahead.” JC’s voice carried an edge to it, just like Brock’s. The man had said that Brock had mentored him to be dominant.
“I’m not yours to spank. Neither of you. I am my own person.”
“Yes, you are. We aren’t denying you that.” Brock spoke as he looked around the room. “Although it looks as if this room isn’t you. Why do you have all this furniture?”
She shrugged. “Been busy working. Don’t have time to shop.”
“We’ll work on getting you some new furniture.” Of course, Mister Bossy Brock had to take control.
“I’m happy with what I have,” she grumbled hoping the lie sounded believable.
Two sets of blue eyes, two different shades, watched her. Picking out one of the old faded gold flowers on the sofa, she stared at it. She could see both men in her peripheral vision but she put them on ignore.
It was a long silence, both men beginning to look nervous. The longer she ignored them, the more irritated they became. She could nearly feel it radiating off them.
She could also feel their lust.
Moisture dampened her panties. Unfortunately, they were the same ones from last night. She hadn’t changed when she got home. Geez, she wished she had. She hoped she didn’t smell.
Time moved slowly, or at least it felt that way. She had been sure they would have left by now. When JC pulled out his phone and ordered a pizza for delivery, she was surprised.
The quiet time shadowed the room until the pizza arrived. When JC went to retrieve their order, Skye saw an opportunity to get to her room. She waited until Brock went into the kitchen, she assumed to get plates, and she bolted towards her room.
A shriek escaped her as a muscular arm swung around her and hauled her against a hard body. “Where are you going, Skye?” Brock asked, his mouth next to her ear.
Warm breath caressed her ear and neck sending a chill through her body. Her nipples hardened while her pussy throbbed. She hated that her body betrayed her and she had to hope he hadn’t noticed, especially since his upper arm pressed against her breasts.
“I asked you a question, little one,” he reminded her before he pulled her backwards. “You’ve already violated the rules by not communicating with us. Don’t make it worse.”
Words, low and tinged with anger, spiked her arousal, but she was determined not to let them win.
The two of them fell backwards on the sofa, Brock keeping his arm around her. She sat in his lap when JC returned with a pizza box, a bag with breadsticks, and if Skye was smelling properly, chicken wings.
Her stomach chose to betray her at that moment and growled. She hadn’t eaten but a few bites at breakfast and she hadn’t eaten anything when she got home. Denial wasn’t going to get her anywhere with her two men and she knew it.
Damn it! They are not my men!
Yes, they are! You know they are, so own it!
Damn, she hated when her brain warred with itself!
As soon as the food was set on her coffee table, her phone played one of JC’s old tunes. Heat warmed her face as the man himself looked at her, his brow rising questionably.
He picked it up, a smirk on his lips, and handed it to her. The caller ID indicated it was Dwayne, but she didn’t want to talk to him. Reaching over, she placed it back on the low table before her.
“Who was that, sweetheart?” Brock asked behind her.
“My boss.” Short answers. That should get them to understand she wasn’t going to cooperate.
“You really know how to be a brat, don’t you?” JC asked as he sat next to his friend.
“I’m not being a brat!” Defiance didn’t become her but she couldn’t help herself.
Silence returned but Skye knew it was short lived.
“What happened, little one? What scared you off?” Brock had loosened his hold on her but his breath at her ear was just as erotic as it had been a few minutes before. “Last night you had agreed to try what we offered.”
Deciding it was best to answer them in order for them to understand and then leave, Skye spoke. “The cold light of day can be a cruel mistress. Reality sets in, as does reasonable thought. What you propose may be good for some people, but not me. No one is going to tell me how to live my life. I’ve been there, done that as I grew up, and it’s not going to happen again.”
Picking at her cuticle on her right thumb, she fought back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. Being chosen as JC’s woman was an honor, but she wasn’t a groupie and wouldn’t be treated as such. As soon as the next desirable woman came along, Skye would be cast aside and then where would she be?
“I am not going to be another one of the casualties that is JC’s life. To be used for a little while and then thrown out like yesterday’s water.”
Chancing a glance at the man, she saw the hurt that shadowed him at her words. Dread consumed her for she had hurt him, and there was probably no way to take back those words.
Brock’s arm held her tighter as he rested his chin on her shoulder, an indication she wasn’t going anywhere. She didn’t want to. In that moment, she wanted to hear JC out. The hurt that filled him had to be something bad.
As if defeated, Skye watched him as he sat on the floor. He used the coffee table to rest his back against.
“The only casualty that was my life, Skye, was my wife. We had been married for about a year when I broke into the music scene. Knowing that the lifestyle could be made and broken for a rock star by their past, we both agreed that we would keep our marriage a secret. My manager agreed because groupies wouldn’t want to know about a wife.
&n
bsp; “Women were always throwing themselves at me, besides their panties,” he said with a smirk. “I never took any of them up on their offers, as I had something better at home. Passing them on to the band, most of them were happy.
“There was one lady who didn’t appreciate what I did and she went to the tabloids and told them she was pregnant with my baby. The rags ate up that story, and it very nearly ended my marriage, but Addy remained by my side. It was proven after the baby was born that it wasn’t mine, mainly because I have no African-American blood in me at all.”
JC chuckled, as did Skye. She remembered the story, but not that the lady had been proven to be a liar. He continued. “Addison stayed with me through all my bouts of abuse. She sat up with me at night when I couldn’t sleep, going through withdrawals. She helped me get sober.” Tears shimmered in his eyes. “She was my life, whether I was the famous rock star, or the strung-out junkie. When she got sick, I felt myself die inside. The cancer ate her up inside, and when she was dying, she made me promise to look for someone else to love. I told her I couldn’t do it, for she was going to be the only one I ever loved.
“I sank back into the coke when she passed, thinking that I wanted to join her. Brock wouldn’t let me. He took me in, cleaned me up, and took my mind somewhere else. He showed me how to gain control over my urges with BDSM, and I have been clean for the past five years. I will always love Addy. She will always be a part of me, but I have to let her go.”
The tears had already been trickling down Skye’s cheeks with JC’s story. He seemed sincere and truthful, but most of all, he seemed broken. He had bared his soul to her after he had declared he had wanted her. He was moving on with his life as he had promised his wife.
Prying Brock’s arm from her waist, Skye sank down to her knees next to JC and gathered him in her arms. She felt his hot tears as they moistened her t-shirt at her breast. Soft sobs came from the man as his arms wrapped around her body, as if seeking the comfort she offered.
