His Cold Blue Command

by A. J. Downey

  No one had ever bought me flowers before. A boy had brought me a handful of marigolds that he had ripped out of my grandmother’s garden once, but he was seven and I’d been more than a little dismayed, so I hardly thought that counted.

  I went back to work, ducking and avoiding Millie’s looks of curiosity and teasing smile for the rest of the afternoon. When it was finally time for me to go I stared at the flowers, my bottom lip between my teeth. I didn’t know whether to take them with me or if it was all right to leave them here.

  “You work for Mr. Parnell today, right?” Millie asked and I nodded faintly.

  “Yes. I’m not sure I want to take these on three buses and then on three more to get them home,” I said honestly.

  “Say no more. Leave them there, you can take them home tomorrow and I sure don’t mind! They brighten up the place.”

  I smiled weakly, and said, “Thanks, Millie.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she said, and then her curiosity won out. “Who is he?”

  “I’d rather not say,” I told her. “I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”

  She laughed, clear and bright like it was the funniest thing I had ever said. When she got herself together, she said to me, wiping a tear from her eye, “Two dozen red roses says that it is definitely going somewhere, Ally Cat. Whoever he is, I think it’s safe to say he loves you.” She winked at me and I quickly plastered a smile onto my face over my blush and ducked out the front door.

  I was glad, at least, that there had been a pocket inside the cape he’d had me wear and that I was able to keep my wallet and keys in it. I could only imagine the questions I would have had to answer if I had had to knock on Mr. Comey’s door in the middle of the night to have him let me into my apartment. Frustratingly, the rest of my things, my tote bag and purse, were still at Damien Parnell’s.

  I hopped the buses that would take me to his apartment and got off at the last stop with a heavy heart. I didn’t know what waited for me inside his apartment. If he would be there, or if he expected me to wait until he came home. I walked up the block and crossed the street, turning down in front of the Calvert building and making my way to the familiar green canopy and carpet trimmed in gold. I smiled for Mr. Clive’s benefit.

  “Hey, Ms. Ally!” he greeted me brightly and swung open the door for me.

  “Hi, Mr. Clive,” I greeted him back, and slipped through into the dim-but-opulent lobby of the building. It never failed to take my breath away, not even today, when I felt a heavy leaden weight of dread in the pit of my stomach as I took the healthier option and ascended the stairs.

  I paused outside his door, key in hand, and let out a breath before shoving it into the lock. I knew as soon as the door swung inward he was home; the alarm failed to keen at me, wanting me to feed its code to it to shut it off. I stepped inside and turned, shutting the door behind me and when I turned back to the wide open living space, he was there, standing just a few paces away.

  He had no tie, his top two buttons at his collar undone, his sleeves rolled back over his muscular forearms, his jaw clenched, his dark eyes raking over me, his expression unreadable. God, he did that so well, too well, the neutrality thing and I hated it. I hated that I was never immediately able to see what he was thinking or feeling unless he wanted me to.

  “Hi,” he said simply, extracting his hands from his expensive slacks’ pockets.

  “Hey,” I murmured and sighed.

  He smiled faintly, and it reached his dark eyes, and I realized what I was seeing in them was a careful caution. One that I think I echoed in my own frozen stance.

  He took a breath, braver than I, and started speaking, “One of the things about me, about what I do with you…” he swallowed hard, gathering his thoughts, but quickly frowned as he tried to choose his words carefully. I just wanted him to speak. I wanted to listen to his warm, soft, yet strong and intense voice because I think I parsed out one more thing in his eyes when he looked at me… hurt.

  “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way,” he said finally. “Giving you the money wasn’t for anything we did Friday night. It wasn’t even about you cleaning or working for me, or any of that.”

  “Then what was it?” I asked, frowning in confusion.

  “Taking care of you,” he said simply. “It’s about taking care of you. I want to.” He stuffed his hands back into his pockets and tipped his head back with a giant heaving sigh to stare at the ceiling. He stared at it for a handful of seconds and I realized this, what he was doing, was opening up to me and it was hard for him. Very hard.

  I licked my lips and clutched the strap of the little bohemian bag I had stitched together to make myself a new purse, a project I had completed along with half of Dawnie’s new skirt on Saturday.

  “So what happens now?” I asked, carefully.

  “I don’t know, Bright Eyes. That’s up to you. All I know is that I don’t want to lose you over some dumb misunderstanding, and I think it’s time we renegotiate the terms of this relationship.”

  I huffed an incredulous laugh and rolled my eyes a bit and said, “Okay, I get that, but did you really have to sound like such a damn lawyer right then?”

  He chuckled lightly and pulled his hands from his pockets again, holding his arms out in an invitation for me to fill them with my body. I hesitated, but only for a half a second while it hit me just how much I wanted that. How much I ached to curl up against his chest and just live there. I so fiercely wanted him to love me because I was certain that, if I hadn’t already, that I was well into falling in love with him, myself.

  Still, the relief that flooded me after living with the hurt of his action, trying to hand me that envelope after our dalliance at the club, it was still fresh and still there. When his arms closed around me, though; when his hand pressed into the back of my head, stroking my hair and his lips met the top of my head, I let it go. I had to but not without doing what I promised first.

  “It hurt so much when you tried to pay me after…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it, because the whole experience had been so incredibly and exquisitely beautiful for me, and then for him to cheapen it that way…

  “I imagine that it hurt as much as your accusation did me.” He rushed out the rest before I could finish drawing breath to protest, his arms tightening around me. “Even if it wasn’t unwarranted. I understand how it looked, how it felt, even though I swear to you, that’s not how I meant it. I screwed up. I didn’t communicate, and that’s on me, and for that, I apologize.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” I whimpered and the first few tears choked me up as they squeezed their way out despite my best efforts. He leaned back and fixed his eyes on mine, wiping away my tears with a gentle hand, his other on my waist, holding me near him so I wouldn’t try to get away, not that I even wanted to. I loved it when he held me like this.

  “I want to protect you from everything,” he whispered and smoothed the moisture off my other cheek. “I just don’t know how to protect you from myself.”

  His confession broke my heart and I didn’t know what to say, I shook my head and whispered, “You don’t have to. I don’t want you to. I…” I almost let it slip out. I almost told him the truth, but I was afraid. I rolled my lips together and said the only thing I could think to say that would put his mind at ease. The only language he’d given me that was just us; just between us two.

  “Green.”

  His mouth engulfed mine in a kiss so fiery, so passionate; it welded my cracked heart back together so seamlessly and so flawlessly, I don’t think that even I would ever be able to tell that he’d nearly broken it.

  25

  Yale…

  I held her tight, unable to deny that I was past wanting to keep her; that I had to admit I needed someone like her in my life. Her gracious beauty unmatched in only one arena, her integrity. That turned me on beyond anything and I had been looking for a woman like her for so long. The perfect amalgamation of pretty, smart, innocent, and with su
ch an honest purity.

  She was beyond corruption, but what’s more, she was some sort of an angel, lifting me out of my brooding and misery. She gave me something to look forward to, allowing me to hope and even dream for myself for a change.

  I let my hand drift to the back of her hair, gripping it tightly in my fist to control her head. Tearing my mouth from hers I marched my lips down the side of her neck, exploiting all her most sensitive places with them, adding my teeth as necessary. She gasped, sighing out in a rush of breath, her body leaning limply with submission into mine. The tingle in my cock grew as I rose swiftly from half-mast to full and I wanted inside her elegant body so badly. I was done tiptoeing around with her, though. I would be taking her to the bedroom for this.

  I wanted her in my bed, needed her there, a symbolic thing with heavy importance to me. I only took women to my bed, in my space, who I wanted to keep, and I wanted to keep Ally. I wanted to claim not just her body, but her heart and soul as well, and I would go to any limit, beyond any limit to do so.

  So involved in her rushing, moaning, whimpering breaths was I, I almost missed her nimble fingers making quick work of my shirt until she was drawing it from my waistband to reach the last few buttons.

  “You naughty girl,” I said, smiling by her ear, and jerked back on her hair carefully. Her reaction was beautiful: a sharp, surprised cry, back bowing, going to her very tippy-toes before putting her feet flat on the floor. I turned her away from me, and brought her back against my chest, turning us both toward the hall. I plunged my free hand down the front of her little shorts and pressed my fingertips past her plump pussy lips, seeking her opening, pleased to find her growing wet. I slicked the moisture up and over her clitoris and massaged it firmly, teasing it into a hard kernel as she writhed and tried to get away from my hand.

  “Not going to happen,” I murmured and kissed the shell of her ear. “Now march. End of the hall, into the bedroom.”

  “Yes, sir,” she gasped, shuddering. I propelled her forward and she went, obediently and I loved that. I loved everything about how she sweetly obeyed, even though she struggled slightly against my hand at her front.

  “Take your shorts and panties down,” I commanded when I had her facing the foot of my bed. Her hands immediately went to the button and zipper at the front of the denim and she quickly unfastened them, giving her hips a sexy little shimmy as she forced them down. They slid to pool around her ankles and I smiled.

  “Good girl.” I thrust her forward, throwing her down on her stomach onto the bed. She yelped with surprise and turned onto her back, but I was already pulling my shirt back off of my shoulders, devouring her with my gaze. She leaned up to watch me, hands pressed flat to the comforter, pushing herself up when I went for her shoes and to pull her bottoms the rest of the way off.

  “Play with your pussy, I want to watch you,” I told her, and with a shy smile that held a wicked edge, her fingertips drifted over her body, from her throat, over the many fashionable necklaces she wore, between her breasts, encased in the charcoal-gray tank top she wore beneath her little denim jacket, over her stomach, drifting over the mound of her pussy until she pressed light fingertips into the top of her sex in rapid teasing circles.

  She arched, and cried out lightly, her breath coming in even, long, slow gasps as she writhed and played with herself for my eyes while I worked my pants open and went for a condom in the bedside table. I tore open the packet while she watched me, eyes heavy-lidded with desire, and I could tell that watching me put it on myself was as alluring to her as watching her play with her little pink pussy making herself ready for me, was to me.

  I wrapped my arms around her thighs and yanked, hauling her bodily across the mattress closer to me. She shrieked with delight, laughing, which quickly turned into a sultry moan as I introduced my body to hers in the most intimate way possible. I took it slowly, easing my cock into her until I was buried to the root. She felt so good, amazingly hot and wet, her walls pressing around me gently. I stroked out of her, then back in once, and closed my eyes, bowing my head and savoring the sensation.

  “Did I tell you to stop?” I demanded and her fingertips, which were still pressed against her clit, resumed their motion as I set an accompanying rhythm.

  “Oh, god,” she moaned and arched again, her back coming up off the bed, forcing herself down on me tighter, and it felt so good but wasn’t quite enough for me. This was going to be a quick fuck as compared to what we’d done before, but it was right and had its place.

  “Tighten up for me, Bright Eyes,” I urged, and she gripped me like a second skin, her tight little pussy fisting my cock to such a fucking perfection I couldn’t hold back. I drove into her a final time and fucking exploded, starbursts of white fucking light going off behind my tightly closed eyelids, even as I heard her cry out beneath me. Oh, god, she milked me fucking dry with her own orgasm as she fought not to writhe too much beneath me.

  I collapsed over her and pressed my mouth to hers, smoothing her hair away from those gorgeous green eyes of hers as they stared into my soul, sightlessly seeing everything and nothing at all.

  “God damn, I love you,” I whispered, and her arms came up and went around me, her legs following suit as she gave me a massive full-body hug, twining around me like ivy.

  I’d never felt as complete as a man until right then.

  26

  Ally…

  I woke suddenly in an unfamiliar but luxurious bed, the sound of clattering dishes and the dishwasher door shutting wresting me from my nap.

  More like blissed out coma, my inner voice corrected me and I smiled. I stretched, deliciously sore as I twisted from my stomach and sat up. I blinked in surprise as Damien, sexy as hell in just a pair of black cotton lounge pants came through the door bearing a tray.

  “Welcome back,” he said with a devilish smile and I felt an echoing one curve my lips.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  He shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, you needed it and you weren’t out long. An hour, maybe two.” He lifted his chin to indicate I should get comfortable. I pushed my hands flat against the mattress and dragged myself up and back against the headboard. He set the tray across my lap and sat down by my hip. I felt my mouth drop open in surprise.

  A petite cut of steak, roasted vegetables, and a small salad graced the plate. A glass of sparkling water and a single rose in a fluted vase finished the tray but then I froze when I spotted the simple white business envelope. Precisely like the one that had nearly torn us apart with its presence.

  I opened my mouth but he stopped me with an, “Ah before you say anything, this one is different… it’s not like the rest. Just open it.”

  The food momentarily forgotten, I picked up the envelope, and he was right. It was thicker somehow, fuller than any that had come before. With some trepidation, I tore off one end carefully and slid a sheaf of paperwork out of it, unfolding it so I could read.

  I blinked and looked up at him in shock, dropping my eyes back down to the page and reading and rereading it in disbelief. It was paperwork from my grandmother’s care facility. The open balance had been paid, what’s more? The forwarding balance for the next year had been paid as well.

  I felt tears brim my eyes and I looked up at him. He didn’t know my grandmother. Why would he do this?

  He smiled a little sadly, and I realized I must have voiced the question. He reached out and cupped my cheek gently, stroking a thumb along my skin in a light, reverent touch.

  “I didn’t do it for your grandmother, Bright Eyes. I did it for you.” He sighed and looked reluctant for a moment, slightly wistful when he went on to say, “I’m afraid there’s some bad news that comes along with it,” he said. “You might not want to thank me just yet.”

  I felt my heart seize in my chest and asked, “What?”

  “You’re fired, Ally. I can’t be caught dating one of my employees and if I’m going to take you out for real…
” he watched me gravely, letting the thought trail off, his eyes guarded and his expression stone.

  I covered my mouth with my hand in an attempt to catch my laughing sob, and careful of the tray in my lap, held my arms open, begging him to hold me. He laughed too, and put his arms around me, holding me tightly. He drew back and tucked my hair behind my ear and said, “It was the only thing I could think of to fix this, to make it right between us and clear the air.”

  “I’ve never been so happy to be fired in my life,” I said and we shared excited happy grins.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t be too broken up about it,” he confessed.

  “I can’t believe you would do this for me,” I said with wonder and I let my eyes rove the paperwork one more time.

  “Eat your dinner, Bright Eyes. I told you, I take care of what’s mine.” He kissed my forehead, and drew back saying gravely, “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

  I nodded, knowing precisely what he meant and it didn’t feel creepy or overbearing at all. If anything, it felt safe. Damien Parnell knew the meaning of consent, and we had had a long talk before I had drifted off to sleep, listening to his voice as he explained some of the world he had come from.

  To be from his family, you would think it was a real life Cruel Intentions. I had said as much and he had chuckled without mirth, a bitter, angry sound and said, “They had to get the idea for the movie somewhere. East coast high society was certainly it.” I’d kissed him then, trying to dispel the dispassionate tone, abolish the mantle of discord that had settled over him so suddenly and completely.

  I was beginning to understand precisely why he was so guarded and it broke my heart. There were entirely too many sets of circumstances in which to grow up and become hardened and callous in today’s world. It made my heart hurt. The fact that Damien had grown up under such circumstances, yet still remained able to be so tender with me… I do believe in miracles. I see small ones in this city, at the projects, every year.