Drawn To Dark

by Emma Tharp

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Drawn To Dark

  Emma Tharp

  Drawn To Dark

  By Emma Tharp

  Copyright © 2018 by Emma Tharp

  For more about this author, please visit www.emmatharp.com

  All characters and events in this book, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator” at the address below.

  www.emmatharp.com

  Ordering Information: Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address above.

  1.Main category—Fiction

  2.Other category—Romance

  First Edition

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  Kingston

  “Damn it!” I shout as I storm out the doors of the Indian restaurant. Rage fills my limbs and I’m tempted to do something stupid, like punch out the glass window of the place. But I don’t. Flexing my fists, I pace back and forth down the block, unsure of what do with all this pent-up anger. Before meeting her, I would just go drink until I’m no longer coherent and then bash in someone’s car windows with a baseball bat. Not now.

  Someone’s heels follow me down the street. It’s her.

  “You’re fucking married,” I grit out from between clenched teeth and turn to face her. Fuck if she doesn’t look as gorgeous as ever. Her tight body is draped in a sleek fitted red designer dress cut above the knee, showing off her toned legs. The picture of poise and sophistication. If I wasn’t so pissed, I’d grab her and put my tongue in her mouth.

  “Calm down, Kingston.” Helena flings her black curtain of hair over her shoulder with the calmest, most impassive expression on her beautiful face which only adds fuel to my fire.

  “You’re wearing a wedding ring and you were in there having dinner with a man who kissed your hand.” My nostrils flare as I make a sweeping gesture with my arm toward the restaurant. “Is that your husband?”

  “It’s irrelevant. We’re adults. What we do is between us. Not him. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” She places her hands on her hips as she angles her gaze up to meet mine.

  “The fuck you will. I’m done,” I bite the words out, bitter and cold. Being done with Helena is the last thing I want.

  “Don’t be foolish. I’ve got to go back inside.” Her tone is clipped and measured. She turns and walks away from me, hips sashaying with the confident sway of a woman who always gets what she wants.

  My guts churn and I hunch over, taking deep breaths to push back the bile rising in the back of my throat. Why do I let this woman get to me? Every cell in my body craves destruction. Release. But she’s the one who’s taught me to control it. Ironic that she’s the one pushing me to the brink again.

  “Dude. Everything all right?” My bandmate, Davies, asks. He’s examining me, the corners of his eyes scrunching up and forcing his black-framed glasses to ride higher up his nose.

  Pointing toward the restaurant, I say, my tone full of disgust, “Helena is in there. With her husband.”

  “She’s married? I can go in there and kick his ass.” He bounces from one foot to the other and jabs at the air with his fists. He’s well-intentioned, but nuts.

  He’s 5’8”, maybe 5’9”, and weighs one-seventy-five. Helena’s husband was sitting, but you could tell he’s tall and broad-chested. Not to mention I don’t need Davies fighting my battles for me. It isn’t even this guy’s fault. It’s hers. Helena and I have known each other for two years and been intimate for one. Not once did she mention that she’s married or wear a wedding ring.

  A few breaths of the warm spring air along with Davies’ antics allow me to compose myself.

  “It’ll be okay. Let’s go back in and finish dinner. My curry’s getting cold,” I say as I pat Davies’ shoulder.

  “Are you sure, King? We don’t have to go back in. I can run in and pay, get the food boxed up, and we can get out of here. If you don’t want to see them together, I understand.”

  “Nope. I’m not letting her ruin my dinner.” Walking back toward the restaurant, a hot red-headed girl stops me. I wave Davies on and tell him I’ll meet him inside in a minute.

  “Are you Kingston Lawless?” Her green eyes are wide and she’s tugging at the bottom of her green v-neck shirt, exposing the tops of her small breasts. She’s gorgeous and would probably do just about anything I ask of her. You can see it in her expression. A fan who’d go to any length to get close to a member of Lawless. It’s not that interesting anymore, to only be wanted for what people think you are. Not for who I am.

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “Do you mind taking a selfie with me?” Pulling out her phone, she doesn’t even wait for an answer. She throws her arm around me and snaps a picture. “And could you please give me an autograph?” She digs a black marker out of her purse, hands it to me, and pulls her shirt down, exposing the freckled skin of her shoulder. “I’m a huge fan of your band.”

  Signing my name on her shoulder blade, I re-cap the marker and hand it back to her. “That’s great.” I’m polite, but I don’t like living in the limelight. To me, it’s all about the music.

  “Thank you so much,” she says as she scurries off, dialing her phone, no doubt telling whoever answers that she just met me.

  When I walk back into the restaurant, I don’t look in Helena’s direction. Won’t give her the satisfaction. It’s not like I need to see it again; the image is burned in my brain. A handsome well-dressed man is sitting with the woman I’ve been exclusive with for the past year. His hand grabbed hers and he brought it to his lips and kissed it. Such a simple gesture. Except he grazed his lips across each knuckle. That’s when I noticed the giant solitaire diamond ring shimmering on her left third finger. My heart sinks at the memory, but I keep walking back to my table and sit across from Davies.

  “You sure you’re okay, man?” Davies asks.

  “I’m going to be fine.” I do my best to reassure him in the hopes it’ll reassure me. The truth is I don’t know what the hell to think.

  Davies takes a long swig of his beer. I can actually taste the flavor of it passing over my tongue, as i
f I were the one taking the drink. What I wouldn’t give for one sip. But, Tommy, my manager, would kill me. Booze and I don’t have a good track record.

  “Who was that that stopped you outside?” he asks and piles a huge forkful of rice in his mouth.

  “Just a fan.”

  “Why didn’t you introduce the drummer?” He frowns at me, eyes full of disappointment.

  “Sorry, man. I should’ve.” He loves the attention. Unlike me. Being the face of the band, I tend to be the guy that gets stopped on the street.

  Nodding and pointing his fork at me, he says, “Next time, you better.”

  “Trust me, I will. So, you think we’re ready for the gig at O’Connor’s?”

  “I think so. Don’t you?”

  Of course, we’re ready. We’ve sold out much bigger venues than this. But since we’re all home and our old high school buddy needs help, we told him we’d play a gig at his bar. “Yes, it’ll be great. Rehearsal will be good for us. We haven’t gotten together to practice in a month. The tour starts back up again soon.”

  Rubbing his hands together, he says, “I can’t wait to get back on the road.”

  Davies loves touring. I wish I shared in his enthusiasm. Don’t get me wrong; the lights, the stage, the energy, there’s no high quite like it. But I wouldn’t mind our tour schedule calming down. Being gone off and on all summer gets to me. There’s only so much you can do on a tour bus, and the road gets lonely. Not to mention I’m coming to a point in my life where I’d like to settle down.

  Helena had never given me any indication that she’d like to take our relationship to the next level. In fact, we didn’t have any serious discussions about our future. I’m the only one who spills my guts about anything. I have to: she’s my shrink. And in order for me to stay in the band, our manager, Tommy, makes it a stipulation that I see someone once a week to keep my shit together. Initially, I thought it was a crazy idea, but the longer I sat with her and opened up, it did seem to help. I’ve kept my nose clean for as long as I’ve been seeing her. She’s been good for me. Until tonight.

  Glancing in Helena’s direction, I catch her staring at me, dark eyes holding me in place. She doesn’t even smile at me. No, her expression is emotionless, almost cold. Turning my head, I say, “Yeah, the tour is going to be good for me. I’ve got to get away from her.”

  “You ready to go?” Davies asks, polishing off the last of his chicken.

  “Let’s get the check and get out of here.”

  Flagging down the waitress, I hand her my credit card. When she brings back the receipt, I sign it and leave her a fat tip. I leave the restaurant without looking at Helena and drive home, seething the whole way.

  It’s warmer today than it was yesterday. Sitting in my car, the window down and loud music blaring, I sit in my driveway. It’s my appointment time. I’m supposed to be meeting with Dr. Helena Bessett in fifteen minutes. It’s a ten-minute drive to her office on a good day. I’m never late for our appointments.

  All night, I told myself I was going to cancel all my future appointments with her and cut her out of my life. I wanted a drink so bad. Instead, I went to bed early. And then all I could do was dream about her through the night. Her naked body under mine as she calls out my name. The dreams were so vivid and real I woke up hard. She’s not good for me. I crave her like a drug. And it’s not just the sex; it’s how she helps me move past my shit. That’s why I start my car and drive in the direction of her office.

  Every minute that passes of the drive I get more pissed off that I’m going, but I’m powerless to stop myself. I crank the volume on the radio and sing along to the lyrics of one of my favorite songs. It’s dark and depressing and matches my mood. When I pull into the parking lot of her office, I cut the engine and bang my fist on the steering wheel once for good measure.

  Standing outside her office door, I stare at it and wait, willing myself to turn around and walk away. But I came all the way over here. I should at least give her a chance to explain herself. Walking through the door, I take my usual seat in the waiting room. I’m the only one here; I’m always her last appointment. Her secretary is even gone tonight. It’s just seconds before she opens the door to her private office and comes out to meet me.

  “You came.” Her tone is confident. She knew I’d be here. “Come in.”

  Without saying a word, I follow her in the room and shut the door behind me.

  She leans back against her desk and rests her ass against it, arms crossed. She’s in a white business casual style dress. I’m sure she paid a fortune for it.

  “No ring today?” I ask.

  She ignores my question completely. “I’m glad you’re here.” She pushes herself up and makes her way toward me. Her hands land on my chest and my heart rate kicks up.

  Grabbing her hands and pushing them off me, I say, “This isn’t how things are going to go. I want an explanation. Why didn’t it ever occur to you to tell me you’re married?”

  She shakes her head and huffs out a deep sigh. “You’re smart, Kingston. You know what we are.”

  Maybe that’s the problem. I thought we had mutual respect. Guess I was wrong. “I want to hear what you think we are.”

  “We fuck. That’s what we do. It’s nothing more. Don’t you agree?” There’s sarcasm there, but curiosity, too.

  “Sure. We have sex, but we’ve never talked about what else we could be.” Damn, I hate the way my voice sounds, weak and pathetic.

  Her expression changes. Instead of tight features, her eyes brighten and her hands find my chest once more. “I know I’ve been a bad girl. It’s time for you to punish me. Where do you want me, Master?”

  Fuck. This isn’t what I want. If I’m honest, it’s never what I want. It’s her deepest desire to be dominated and I’m just along for the ride. Never had I played the role of a Dom before her. When she asked me to try it, I went along with it. I got to touch her skin, be inside her, feel the connection between us. Sure, I get off when she does, but I don’t need to bring her pain to find my own pleasure. Having an addictive personality made it easy for me to say yes to her whims every time she asked. She’s like a drug to me. She replaced the booze.

  What I crave the most is when we have vanilla sex; it’s the best I’ve ever had. We connect on a deeper level, staring into her eyes, seeing how much she wants me. It’s beyond my comprehension why a woman like her desires someone like me. We’re complete opposites. She’s beautiful, professional, sophisticated. Untouchable. Until she wasn’t.

  This is it. The last time.

  She’s wearing deep red lipstick, the color of cabernet. Twisting my hand into her hair, I pull her mouth to mine and claim it. Jamming my tongue between her lips, she opens to me. She always does. She tastes like cinnamon and cloves. I deepen the kiss while my hand finds her ass. Pulling at the back of her knee, I draw her leg up my side and hitch it on my hip. Moving her dress up and out of my way, I drag my hand up her bare thigh all the way to her sex. She’s not wearing any underwear. She knew I’d show up. Playing with her clit, she moans into my mouth. Fuck if it doesn’t make me want her more.

  “I’ve got the handcuffs in my desk drawer if you want to put them on me, Master.”

  There’s no way I’m playing that today. I don’t answer her. Instead, I take her hand and lead her to the chair that sits at her desk. It’s big and made of expensive leather. Pulling my pants down, I expose my rock-hard erection and sit down on the chair. “Sit on it,” I tell her with zero pretense in my voice.

  Helena lifts her already disheveled dress up and over her head. Her body is tight and toned with the exception of her implants, which are big and disproportionate with the rest of her. Her breasts are straining against the white lace bra she’s wearing that barely covers her nipples. I pull on the back clasps and throw it to the floor, leaving her naked in front of me. Mine for the taking. Her eyes are hungry and wild. I don’t want to want her so much, but right now there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to h
ave her.

  Straddling me, she eases herself onto my length. “My god, you feel good, Master. I’ve been so bad. Don’t you want to punish me?” She rides up and down me, eyes never leaving mine. Her fingertips glide up my abs, over my chest, and come to rest on my shoulders. Her touch leaves a fire in its wake.

  Grasping her hands roughly, I put them behind her back. “Leave them there.” My tone is harsh and demanding, just the way she likes it. My mind is at war with wanting to meet her needs but take care of my own too.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Grinding my fingers into her hips, I speed up the motion. She complies and bounces up and down on me faster. The room is quiet with the exception of our deep breathing and skin rubbing against skin. Her scent is all around me, expensive perfume and tropical scented hair products. Pulling her nipple into my mouth, I bite down and suck. She arches her back and groans. “Harder, please,” she begs.

  For her, it’s always got to be rougher. She loves the pain when it mixes with pleasure. I don’t understand it, but I give her what she asks for, tugging on her nipple, sucking until I’m sure I’ll leave a mark. That’s when it happens. She convulses on me and shudders with her orgasm. Seeing her get off gets me every time and it’s only a matter of seconds before I join her. But it isn’t like it normally is. Today it’s short, rushed, leaving me wanting to take her again.

  When Helena stands, she reaches in the bottom drawer of her desk and pulls out a blindfold and a long black leather riding crop. “That wasn’t enough for you. Please play with me, Master. You know you want to.” She attempts to hand me the riding crop.

  “No,” I say as I stand and pull my pants back up. “I don’t want that, Helena. I’m done. Go to your husband. Have him whip you.”