by Sky Corgan
Her words sting, and I can't quite process them. It feels like she's just lashing out at me for no good reason. “So this is about Lucian being a Dom?”
“You weren't even into this shit in the first place.” She grabs the remote and angrily turns the television off. “You just followed me like a puppy. And now you have a Dom and I...I'm going to Flesh this weekend. You should come too if you want any hope of keeping this guy around.”
The realization that she's jealous hits me like a ton of bricks. Janice. Gorgeous, funny, sweet Janice is jealous of me. She saw Lucian and she wanted him. Not the way that I want him. She wanted him as he was.
“Why is this all coming up now?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” She looks offended.
“You seemed fine after Fleshfest.”
She sighs, rubbing her brow. “I'm sorry. I think I'm just tired.”
“Maybe you should take a nap,” I gently suggest, patting her leg.
“Maybe I should.” She stands up and walks down the hall to her bedroom, leaving everything behind.
I still get the feeling that she's mad at me. The fact that she didn't even take her popcorn is a good indication of that. She wanted to get away from me as quickly as she could, and I still don't feel like I know why.
The day after Fleshfest, she told me she thought Lucian was bad. She knows everything he's put me through. I can understand if she's just being concerned, but I'm not sure that's what this is about.
I marinate on what she said for the rest of the night, on me wanting to change Lucian. It's true. I do want to change him. Is that so bad though? Maybe I'm asking for too much. Perhaps I'm even asking for the impossible.
CHAPTER FOUR
It's the next day, and Derrick still hates me. Maybe hate is a strong word. He hasn't said anything to me since I walked through the door this morning though. All I've gotten from him is a few bitter glances. I wish he would just suck up his feelings, because we still have to work together on Lucian's interior design project...not that there's much for either of us to do right now.
The project is at a standstill. With all of the furniture already picked out, we're waiting on Lucian to schedule time to go look at it with me since he's insisted on physically examining every piece of furniture personally before purchasing it. It's a bit annoying, but at least it means I get to spend more time with him. It also means that I don't have anything to do today besides play games on my computer and surf the internet.
No matter. This is what I would be doing if business was slow anyway. And there are a lot of slow days at Environ Design. At least, I know that Tyra won't send me home, because Lucian could contact me at any time.
A little before noon, Lucian sends me an email.
Miss Underwood,
My afternoon opened up. I was wondering if we could get together to start looking at furniture. If you tell me where to go, I can meet you at around 3PM.
Regards,
Lucian Reddick, M.D.
Reddick Plastic Surgery
I pause to decide which furniture store we should go to first, taking into consideration which ones are closer to Lucian's home and his practice. I'm not sure where he's coming from, so I think about picking one of the furniture stores in between. Then I remember that he wanted to work on his bedroom first, so I decide to contact the store with the beds to make sure they have them on display. Once that's done, I email Lucian back with the address. He sends me a confirmation email, and I spend the rest of my workday wondering if the man I am meeting at the furniture store today is still going to be the same sweet man I left yesterday morning or if he's going to be the Dom I met at Flesh.
***
I arrive at the furniture store fifteen minutes early, parking near the front so I can see Lucian no matter what entrance he comes from. Then I realize that I have no idea what he drives, so I'm not even sure what I'm looking for. I dig my phone out of my purse and stare down at the screen, at all of the text messages I've sent him that he hasn't responded to. Everything as cordial as asking how his day was going and what he was doing. Is there even any point in asking what he drives? I'm sure it will be something flashy and expensive—something I'd see from a mile away. Rich guys usually drive fast sports cars. Not wanting to be disappointed by his lack of a response again, I set my phone down in the cup holder of my car. If he's late, I'll call him. Maybe then he'll answer me.
He's not late though. He's right on time. And I definitely know when he's arrived.
Instead of a flashy sports car, I see a limo pull up in front of the store and drop him off. Does he drive himself anywhere, I wonder? The same limo picked us up from Fleshfest. Maybe he's just so wealthy that he doesn't need to own a car. For some reason, it reminds me that I still don't know a lot about him. This is trivial stuff though, little things that can be learned over time. He told me a lot of really big, important stuff when he explained about the pictures and how he got the house.
“Hey there.” I greet him as I approach the limo.
He looks like a movie star, wearing dark sunglasses, his hair perfectly combed to the side. He's in black from head to toe, crisp slacks and a polo shirt. He stuffs his hands casually in his pockets, and it seems almost like he's striking a pose. That's all in my imagination though. Good God, he's gorgeous. Just seeing him standing there like a picture of flawlessness makes me feel frumpy.
“I'm glad I got the place right.” His gaze shifts up to the big block letters of the furniture store sign.
“Yup, you've got the right place.” I knit my fingers together in front of me, suddenly feeling small and mousey.
“Shall we?” He takes his hands out of his pockets to open the door for me.
I nod, blushing as I walk past him. I hate that he makes me feel like this, that my blood gets warm just from being around him. He has some kind of pull over me. I wonder if other women feel it from him as well. Probably. Just looking at him makes my hormones bounce up and down and scream for sex. Sex on legs. That's what he is.
“I thought we'd look at beds today.” I pull the pictures out of my purse that I printed of the furniture we're here to look at. As I do, my eyes catch one of the salesmen coming towards us. He's the guy I usually deal with. Well, have dealt with the few times that I've actually physically had to come to this store.
“Hello, Miss Underwood. We've been expecting you.” He beams at me.
“Hey, Walter.” I smile back at him. “We're here to check out some furniture today.” I immediately feel like an idiot after saying it. Of course, we're here to look at furniture. Why else would we be at a furniture store. I swear, being around Lucian makes me completely lose my mind at times.
I start to hand the pictures over, but Lucian catches my wrist. A small gasp escapes my lips as I look up at him. He's staring directly at Walter, a forced smile on his face.
“That won't be necessary,” he says in a tone that borders between friendliness and sternness.
Walter takes the pictures from my hand anyway and looks down at them, ignoring Lucian, though I can hear the nervousness in his tone. “That's quite alright. I can show you where these pieces are at. It will be no trouble at all.”
“I think we'd rather take our time looking around.” Lucian drags me into the store past Walter.
I practically stumble before catching my footing and glancing back towards the door. Walter seems puzzled, and all I can do is give him an apologetic look as Lucian leads us away.
“Are you alright?” I ask in a hushed whisper, trying to hide my discontent. That was completely rude, walking away from Walter like that.
“I'm fine. I just don't feel like dealing with someone who is going to hard sell me on something I'm already planning on buying.” He lets go of my wrist as we approach the stairs.
“I don't think the bed I want for your bedroom is upstairs.” I glance around the bottom floor, desperately trying to locate the bed that Lucian picked out before I'm forced away from the area.
�
��I don't care. He's not upstairs.” Lucian throws his thumb over his shoulder in Walter's direction.
I can't help but wonder if they know each other. Lucian's acting really weird and he sounds almost disdainful towards Walter.
A stifled sigh leaves my throat as I follow him up the curving staircase. As soon as we get upstairs, we're greeted by all of the children's beds. My eyes instantly fix on Lucian's face, wondering if being around kids' stuff fazes him since losing his son. If it does, I can't tell. His expression is completely deadpan, though he does take long strides away from the area.
I trail behind him, having no idea where we're going. Inwardly, I grumble. This isn't how this was supposed to go at all. At some point, we need to go back downstairs and get those papers from Walter. If I had them, we could go explore on our own. Otherwise, this is going to take us a while.
We walk past the children's beds into an area with futons. This particular furniture store keeps their high-end products downstairs. I already know there's nothing Lucian would like up here.
“None of the furniture you're going to want is up here.” I wrap my arms around myself and tap my foot on the carpet, wondering what his problem is.
“How do you know?” He doesn't even look at me, his eyes scanning the room for...I have no idea what.
“Because we've already gone over this at length, remember?” I can barely keep the annoyance from my voice.
“Maybe my tastes have changed.” He shrugs, continuing deeper into the store.
I sigh but continue to follow him, trying to figure out where he's going. We head to the very back of the top floor where mattresses are stacked and the actual bedroom suites are sparse. Lucian wiggles his way behind a room divider and stops in front of a white bedroom suite that looks like it would fit perfectly in a teenager's bedroom.
“This one,” he says with a smirk.
You've got to be kidding me. “This isn't even a king size bed,” I point out.
“I'm well aware of that.” He cocks his head to the side, looking at me as if he thinks I'm stupid.
“No, Lucian. Just no.” I close my eyes, trying to keep my frustration at bay.
“No?” he laughs softly, and I feel his fingertips brush against my side, causing my eyes to fly open. He draws me into his arms, and I instantly look around to make sure no one is watching.
I can't see anything with all of the room dividers separating this display from everything else. It's as if the furniture store was hiding it. Like they knew that no one would buy it, so they didn't even bother keeping it out in the open.
“May I remind you that I'm the client, Miss Underwood. You're supposed to be doing what I say.” There's a darkness in Lucian's voice that sends a shiver rolling down my spine.
I point to the bed, scowling at it. “Lucian, that bed is hideous. This isn't what we discussed, and I'm not letting you buy it.”
“Well aren't you Miss Bossy today.” He pulls me even closer, and I can feel my heart beating fiercely as my breasts press against his chest.
“Lucian.” I place my palms on the front of his shirt, trying to push him away. Like a wall of stone, he doesn't budge. “Be serious for a minute.”
“I am being serious. Very serious.” He nips at my earlobe.
I try to keep my mind on business, but it's difficult when he's being so wanton. Did he invite me here to look at furniture or to seduce me? I'm beginning to think it's the later of the two.
“Lucian, we need to go find the furniture so that we can place the order and get working on finally having your house redecorated. That is what you wanted, right?” The question is biting, meant to refocus his attention.
“All I want right now is you,” he purrs into my ear. “And this bed.” He leans down slightly to run his fingertips across the blue floral comforter. “We should try it out.”
“You're not buying the bed, Lucian. That's final.” I put my foot down. Metaphorically, that is.
“Are you in the business of telling me what I can and can't do now?” The grin is plain in his voice.
“No, but we didn't agree on this bed.” I look at it. The ladder headboard is far too simple for the exquisite architecture of his home. It would seem out of place in just about any room.
“You tend to not agree with me on a lot of things.” His fingers move to trace the collar of my blouse, peeking down the front of my shirt. I blush and look around again. “This is the bed though. This is the bed I'm going to fuck you on. Right here. Right now.”
From the Author
I hope you've enjoyed Flesh: Part Nine. Part Ten will be available shortly.
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Table of Contents
Text copyright 2015 by Sky Corgan.
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
From the Author
