Crossing the Line

by Lauren Landish

  “I’m up for some fun,” someone says from the edge of the room, and I see a man moving toward her. He grabs her breast even as his pants drop, and I’m out of the booth, tearing my t-shirt and my pants off as I can’t hold back anymore. I may not be able to stop her from fucking tonight, but I can for damn sure make sure that she’s treated with more respect than this sorry sack of shit has in mind for her.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” the man says as Shawnie licks her plump lips and reaches down. I get there just in time and grab the guy by the shoulder and shove him out of the circle. “What the fuck?”

  “She’s mine!” I growl, my body tensed and ready to pummel him if he wants to make an issue of it, but the man wilts when he sees what he’s up against. He turns and slinks away as I look around the club, my eyes blazing at the onlookers. “She’s mine!”

  I turn to Shawnie, who’s grinning with an almost evil smile as I grab her and push her back onto the foam. She lies back, spreading her long, shapely legs, showing me her glistening pussy. “You must want me pretty badly, Mr. Masked Man.”

  “You have no fucking clue,” I reply, getting to my knees. Shawnie reaches for my mask, but I grab her wrists and pin them next to her ears, shaking my head. “No touching the mask.”

  “Yes sir,” Shawnie moans. That word again. No wonder she doesn’t use it when we’re together. It’s more depraved and sexier than I’ve ever seen, and my cock is raging in front of me, wanting to split her open and take her. “Can I touch you?”

  “Neck down,” I grunt, running my hands over her breasts. They’re perfect, soft and supple, her nipples pebbly under my fingertips. I might not be able to resist fucking her, but at least it’s me and not one of these assholes. Shawnie sighs and runs her hands over my arms, feeling my muscles before I spread her legs and take my cock in my hand, dragging the head between her pussy lips.

  Shawnie, or the woman I’m fucking who’s in Shawnie’s body, nods, and I drive into her. She’s wet, but as I slide my cock deep into her, I say in my mind that this body was made for me. The way her pussy grips my cock, the feel of her skin against mine as I lean into her, my brain and my inner darkness say that this is the woman for me. I must claim her as my own.

  “Oh, fuck . . . fuck me.” Shawnie is moaning almost incoherently as I pull back and drive in again, a growl of triumph from the depths of my chest echoing around the room as I drive myself again and again into her. She grips me back, her hands coming up to clutch at my back in total submission to my power as I fuck her hard, just on the edge of my full power. Still, she wants more, but the one percent of me that wants the real Shawnie and not this sex demon that I’ve impaled with my cock holds back, saying that I can’t.

  Still, we build, Shawnie’s head thrown back and her eyes closed as I hammer her pussy with my cock, both of us clutching and groaning as we build. Inside, I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but my drive is too strong, my own darkness too dark, and as I get closer, I look into her eyes, hoping to find at least a hint of the woman that I want in there.

  There isn’t, though, just the sex fiend, and it’s smiling, licking her lips and begging for me to fuck her, fuck her, fuck her with my big cock. My nerves are on fire and she drags her nails down my back, urging me on as I give in, driving us both the rest of the way.

  She comes first, but it’s by only a single stroke as I explode deep into her, my balls tightening before I feel my cock fill her with my come. My inner nature cries out in triumph as I pull out and give another good spurt onto her stomach, where it lies like a pale jewel on her skin. Shawnie looks down and scoops it up with her finger, sucking her finger clean and smiling.

  “You’re mine now in this club,” I reply, looking into her eyes. Part of what I have to say is to help her. The rest is to help myself. “Get your shit and go home. If I find you in here again, I’m not going to be so nice.”

  “If that’s the case, I’ll see you next Saturday,” Shawnie says, smiling as she lies back, watching me with lusty eyes as I get up.

  Shawnie goes, and I head back to my seat, finding my clothes and putting them on. The manager comes over after she leaves, a frown on his face. “Mr. Kent, I was surprised when I heard what happened.”

  “I told her, she’s mine now. Nobody else in the club is to touch her. Put the word out.”

  I’ve never been so forceful in here before, but there’s something driving me and I won’t deny it any longer. The man, seeing the fire in my eyes, nods nervously before leaving. I finish off my now severely watered down scotch and soda before leaving, heading home to take a shower.

  The fact is, I’m scared. I knew within minutes of meeting her that she has something I've been consistently brainwashed from birth to seek out and want. But it's not just that. I've met women before who have that element, and never have I wanted them as powerfully as I want Shawnie. Tonight, that need, that desire was too powerful, and for the first time in my life, I lost control.

  Worse, she's broken, there's no question about that. Most of a semester of pushing her, setting her up for success, and seeing her blossom hasn't been enough. I thought I shouldn’t try and break her down anymore. I thought maybe she was already down to bedrock. But seeing her tonight, even the bedrock's shattered, and what's growing up in between those cracks in her bedrock is poisonous and deadly. Sexually incredible, but still deadly.

  I have to be careful, oh so careful. Because if I fail, a beautiful woman, a beautiful soul and beautiful mind are sentenced to death. One wrong step, one wrong move or word, and I could lose her forever. Not for myself, even though I still want her, but for the world, for Shawnie. I'm walking a tightrope with her and the stakes are even more dangerous than I thought before.

  Chapter 8

  Shawnie

  “You don’t look so good, babe.”

  Abby's lying on the screen, the enormous curve of her stomach barely visible on the left side. After literally bleeding through her skin with the size of her baby, the doctors have put her on bed rest for the next two weeks until her delivery date. It hurts to see, not because of the discomfort she’s in, but because of the concern on her face. She’s the one facing childbirth, and I’m the one she’s worried about.

  I can’t let her see the worry and frustration I feel. For two days, I’ve been beating myself up after the world’s worst date and then . . . just what the fuck happened at Club Paradise anyway? Yesterday, I spent the whole day actually fantasizing about the man in the Venetian mask who claimed ownership of me. I can’t let Abby see this.

  “Guess I just need a good night’s sleep,” I lie instead, stretching. At least I did sleep like crap last night. “You know, I could hardly sleep after getting the offer to join Rafe’s team. It’s pretty geeky and pretty cool at the same time. And I get a bit of a pay raise, which is nice.”

  Abby whistles before wincing and rubbing her belly. “Slow down, little guy. Gimme a few weeks, okay?”

  I smile. The scene is so cute and it helps me look past my worry. “You look like you're ready to burst, Abby. How are you doing?”

  “Thankfully, being on bed rest means I can wear half-shirts and let my belly just rest,” she says, looking back at the camera. “I'll tell you, Shawnie, it's scary and amazing and everything that I hoped it would be.”

  “That's because of Dane. You got yourself a good man.”

  “Tell me about it. You know, since I've been put on bed rest, he waits on me hand and foot.”

  I give as good a smile as I can. “Listen, as soon as you have that little guy and everything’s calmed down, tell me. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

  Abby laughs and gives me an OK with her fingers. “I can’t wait.”

  “All right, I'll let you get some sleep or something. I've got a meeting tomorrow, so I’m going to turn in too. First time with the new team. Wish me luck.”

  I’ve been dreading going to the lab all day, sure that as soon as I pulled up out front, Rafe would fire me without even giving me a chance
to apologize. Because of that, I got to the lab early, hoping against hope that he’ll give me another chance if I apologize enough.

  The project lab is owned by the university but isn't actually on campus, and as I put my car in park, I wonder if I am going to end up begging to at least not be reported to the university. Rafe meets me outside since my security clearance is still in the works and I need an escort into the building. “Hey, Shawnie. Glad to see you're as punctual off campus as on.”

  He’s smiling, or at least it’s his normal smirky smile, and when I stammer, he laughs. “You’re feeling bad about Friday night?”

  “Uh . . . you could say that, yeah. I mean, I thought I’d be fired before I even got hired,” I say, and Rafe waves me inside, where we go through the security checkpoint before he takes me into the lab and we sit down. “Rafe?”

  “This isn’t the time, Shawnie, but everything’s fine between us,” he reassures me. “You’re not the first student to make a pass at me, but you’re certainly the most forward. Let’s get to work. Just don’t expect any favoritism.”

  Tears of gratitude spring to my eyes, and I nod, struggling to smile. Inside, I hear a voice, angry that this man is giving me another chance. But the rest of me is happy.

  The meeting is boring, mostly a quick introduction to everyone. Chadeep Rao shows up five minutes late, apologizing profusely before taking his seat, but I can see that Rafe’s still pissed off. He specializes in engine design, and he'll be working with Zander Hunt on that.

  Melody Carter and Justin Lindz are the computer geeks, coders whose whole purpose is to make sure that the CyberFighter is going to be able to talk to the ground station. Dustin Smith, Adam Fertita and Simone Jones are aeronautical engineers.

  After the introductions, we get to work, and as the day goes on, I find myself really being drawn into the work that pushes my mind more than anything I've done in any class. It’s cleansing, and I think that maybe this is exactly what I need. Working through lunch, I'm surprised when Rafe taps me on the shoulder. “Hey, it's quitting time.”

  “Really?” I ask, looking up and noticing the clock for the first time in hours. “Oh, shit, I missed Professor Tyndall's class.”

  Rafe shakes his head. “I talked with him two hours ago. He said that if I'm willing to give you a thumbs up and evaluate your work here for him, he's willing to sign off on your grade for the course. So how was it?”

  “A good start,” I reply, leaning in. “Uh, Rafe, can I ask you something?”

  “Go ahead,” he says, propping his elbows on the table that I'm using and leaning down, his ear close to me.

  “Well, is everyone supposed to be this . . .” I start before shaking my head. “You know?”

  “Boring?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. I can't help it. He read my mind, and I nod, laughing lightly. “Yeah, get used to it. They're freshly bathed and in more or less matching clothes. It’s the most I can hope for. The Pentagon wanted to have me take on more, but there's no way in hell I'm doing that right now. The other seven I already have slow me down enough as it is.”

  “Seven? You’ve got eight on your team,” I mention. “What about me?”

  Rafe chuckles warmly and leans in close enough that I can smell the clean manliness of his natural essence. “You pulled your weight. It’s just Monday though, so keep it up.”

  I’m on my way back to my desk when Rafe intercepts me.

  “Stay after the end of week meeting,” he says, his voice low but intense. “Call it a weekly review.”

  His words leave me tingling, and I’m barely able to focus through the meeting, where Rafe blows up at Dustin and Adam for a lazy attempt at solving an issue with the control surfaces. “You're asking for a system that doesn't exist yet.”

  “No shit!” Rafe explodes. “In case you forgot, you're a fucking PhD in aeronautical engineering, and supposedly one of the most hot-shit dudes in the field right now. You’re not being paid the big bucks to come sit on your ass!”

  Adam stares at him for a few seconds, his face turning red. The reality is, he supposedly is one of the best in the country. “If you think you can do better, Suicide, why not design the system yourself?”

  Adam storms off before Rafe can reply. Dead silence fills the room as Rafe looks around, his eyes blazing before he takes a deep breath.

  “Listen up. I know I'm a perfectionist, and I know that I expect everyone to keep up with me. And yes, I know I come off as an asshole because of my nature. But if we’re going to get this thing made, I need a team that will be able to perform at the level I need them to. We’re not just pushing the envelope—we’re making a whole new fucking envelope! That means that if I have to be considered an asshole, I guess I'm just going to have to be an asshole. If a problem comes up, before you come bitching to me about it, have proof of why you think it won't work. If you don't think you're good enough, there's the door. You can follow Adam now. No bad feelings.”

  Silence reigns, and Rafe shakes his head. “Fine. Meeting over. Have a good weekend. Those who still want to be on the project, I’ll see you Monday.”

  The lab clears out, and soon, Rafe and I are left alone, his face clearing as he looks me over. “So, you think I’ll have a team come Monday?”

  “I’ll be here,” I promise. “I know you said everything was cool about last weekend, but I just want to say before anything else that I appreciate your giving me another chance on the project. I’m sorry about—” I start, but Rafe cuts me off with a kiss, grabbing me by the arms and pulling me in tight. His lips are sensuous and strong, and for a moment, I’m worried. I’m worried that I might lose control again. But it doesn’t come, and it thrills me.

  His tongue sweeps around mine, and I wrap my arms around his back, pulling him as hard as he’s pulling me. Our kiss deepens, softens a little, and I’m moaning with pure, clean desire.

  Our lips part and I’m in a daze, not sure what’s happening. “I’ve wanted to do that since last Friday. I didn’t take off because I don’t want you. You just weren’t ready.”

  “And I am now?” I ask, stroking his back through his shirt. “I feel different than Friday.”

  “You are different,” Rafe says. “But no, not yet. In fact, I’m giving you homework.”

  “Homework?” I ask, confused. “What do you mean, homework? I thought that was done when I stopped being your TA.”

  Rafe shakes his head, his face serious. “Shawnie, what I saw last Friday, I want you to fight it. That’s not you. You be a good girl for the weekend, and next week, I’ll show you things that you won’t begin to imagine.”

  What does he mean ‘be a good girl’? He has no idea what I do on the weekends. I know I should call him out, but the look in his eyes says otherwise, and instead, I nod. “Okay. But I need something to remind me of what the goal is.”

  Rafe chuckles and leans in, whispering in my ear. “Get ready, it’s going to hurt a little. Is that okay?”

  I grin, nodding. “Perfect.”

  Chapter 9

  The Counselor

  What is that?

  What?

  You know what. That mark on your neck. You’re bruised, Shawnie.

  That’s just the way that I bruise. It looks a lot worse than it really is. Actually, it’s a hickey.

  A hickey? You expect me to believe that? Shawnie, if someone hurt you, I need to know.

  It is! Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of my promise.

  I don’t understand.

  Rafe put it there to remind me to be a good girl this weekend. And I was, the whole time. No Club, nothing. I stayed in and . . . studied, took a bike ride, stuff like that.

  But Rafe . . . never mind. I may not like it, but I do like that you had a weekend even more boring than mine. Still, he gave you a hickey?

  I know. It was a spur of the moment thing I think. It shocked me too. After what happened, I assumed I wouldn’t have a job.

  Did you tell him about your problem?

>   Of course not! As soon as I do that, I lose my ability to work on the project. The FBI doesn't exactly like it when you're working on top secret projects and you're popping anti-whatevers.

  Yes, I understand that. In fact, an FBI Agent came by the other day. I am listed in your medical files, after all, and they were the ones who recommended me to you.

  What did you say?

  That you’re being treated by me for post-trauma counseling. The incident with Chris Lake is a matter of public record, Shawnie. Agent Scalia was concerned, but I assured him that you are not a security risk. I still believe that. You aren't a risk to security. Yourself sometimes, but not project security.

  Th . . . Thank you.

  You're crying. Why?

  There aren't too many people who are sticking up for me these days. Especially those who know how fucked up I am.

  I think you might find it surprising the number of people who would be there for you if you opened up to them. Like maybe Rafe? Abby?

  Abby has a lot on her plate right now. She’s due any day. And there's no way that I can open up to Rafe about this.

  Why not? Shawnie, from everything you've told me, he seems to be your ally. Hard-nosed, but a decently good man. I could be wrong, but he seems to care about your well-being.

  Perhaps. But there's a lot of difference between making sure that your assistant is set up for their future and helping a broken woman who is as fucked up as I am. Especially when you have dreams about the man.

  Dreams, you say? Not nightmares?

  No. I mean, there's sex involved in them, you know almost every one of my dreams involves sex somehow. But the ones that involve Rafe, he's still in control, but it's a playful, mutually understood control. He laughs, and I'm laughing on the inside. There's even . . .