by Liz Crowe
“No, no, honey, baby, listen, you don’t mean it. Let me come over. I’ll make it up, I pro – ”
“No!” Her shriek ripped through him, tore a hole in the delicate fabric of balance he thought he’d maintained between his two lives. “Stay the fuck away from me. I mean it.”
He stared at the phone gone dead in his hand. Jack’s voice nearly made him jump up and grab the ceiling like a cat. “Nice work,” Jack said, sipping a cup of coffee. “I told you not to hide this from her. That way she can either accept it or not, without there being anything hidden between you.”
“Shut up, you dick. I would hardly call you the relationship expert these days.” Evan refused to meet Jack’s eyes.
“True that. I leave you to mope.”
Evan sighed and leaned back against the chair full of discarded clothing. He was a mess. Behind on at least three assignments, needing to spend some significant hours cleaning his part of the house and doing laundry, and now he was without a girlfriend as well. She was the one thing, he realized, he was clinging to, to make him feel normal. All the control he thought he had was false, bullshit, fakery, or worse. He stood, stretching, feeling his overworked muscles creak and cry out with dismay. The realization he had even perhaps turned into Damian – faking it with a vanilla girlfriend while running wild at night – made him double over.
After a run, he made a decision. He would not stay away from her. He would surprise Karen with flowers, maybe some other gift he could afford, and a great dinner. She lived alone; he’d spent plenty of nights in her small bed with her. And her kitchen was fully equipped, so he had his mental ingredient list made and the romantic scene set in his head when he tossed some laundry in the washer and cranked out two of the missing assignments. He and Jack ignored each other, but in the way of men – without malice, just as a matter of course.
Exhausted, he set his clock to allow himself a two-hour nap, then dropped immediately to sleep on his now clean-sheeted bed. His dreams were a jumbled, horrifying mess, full of Damian’s laugh, his handsome bright white smile, and Olivia’s gaunt face, tears rolling down her cheeks. When he forced himself awake and away from memories he couldn’t handle, he settled back into a fresh one, this time with a row of women all on their knees in front of him, all begging him with Karen’s voice to please… please… please fuck me.
He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, the press of a sleep erection making him wide awake. Giving up, he rolled back and gripped himself, closed his eyes, and had Karen, Caroline, and a new, mysterious, and unknown woman all to himself. They surrounded him as he sat on a leather chair, whacking him with his own flogger and dripping wax on his torso before taking turns sucking his cock so hard, he grunted and nearly sat straight up at the force of the orgasm.
Staring up at the ceiling, breathing hard, the scent of his own lust filling his nose, he mentally freshened his pact with himself. He would tell Karen, maybe even introduce her to it. He’d sensed her need for him to be rougher, to take more control of their sexual encounters, but had resisted it, again, with compartmentalization. He needed her, or at least what she represented. Or he knew his fetishist Mr. Hyde would take over his entire personality. And that scared him more than anything.
He sat, gasping at the realization that he was making the same sort of justification that his sister made about Damian. That he needed her as his balance. He’d not bought that, not for a minute. But now?
“Fuck, I am not him. I will never be him.”
He gritted his teeth, launched himself up and into the shower, to let the scalding hot water beat the frustration out of him.
Chapter Ten
“Evan?”
He yanked the curtain aside, certain he was hearing things. Just what he needed – voices in his head that spoke loud enough for him to hear them over the damn shower.
“Ehhh-van…” The voice was sing-songy and definitely Karen’s. He grabbed a towel and dried off before wrapping it around his waist. His cock was still twitching in a way that meant his body was already anticipating a night at the club.
He took the few steps down the hall to his room, smelled candles, incense, and something else that set his ragged nerves on edge. He peeked around the door and saw her: Karen, his lovely girlfriend, she of the million-dollar blow job skills, D-cup tits, and tiny waist, slightly spoiled attitude but killer sense of humor – the woman he was toying with asking to stay in his life forever. She was spread-eagled on his bed, dressed in what looked like a black silk bra, garter belt, high heels and… He squinted, trying not to let her see him. Yeah, that was a fucking leather collar around her neck.
He put a hand over his damp face and leaned on the wall, hitting the back of his head against it, as the music she had cranked would surely cover it up. Already on alert, his inner Master rising in him nearly choking him with the urge to go in and give her an experience she would never forget, he forced it down, under a solid layer of guilt. No. This was not how this worked – it couldn’t. She didn’t understand what she was doing, what she was inviting.
He stole another glance at her, just in time to see her bend one knee, dig her heel into the quilt, and expose that luscious, pink perfection between her legs to his eyes. His cock leapt to attention. There were about a dozen candles lit on his bedside table and desk. She’d laid out a set of cuffs, his flogger, her favorite glass dildo, and seemed to be in the middle of a nice masturbation session. He watched, stunned, when she picked up the vibrator, rubbed it around her chest, arched her back, and slid it down her body. The candles flickered in the drafty room, giving the whole scene an even stranger tinge of what-the-fuck as he kept watching, finally standing straight up in the doorway in full sight of her. But she was definitely otherwise occupied.
She sighed, pulled one of her breasts free of its silk cup, and tugged hard on her own nipple. Evan gulped, his hands flexing as he watched her slide the glass sex toy down between her legs, spreading wide, and teasing her clit with it before plunging it into herself. “Evan!” He jumped back at the sound of her voice, dropped his towel, and marched into the room, yanking the toy out of her hand and pulling her to her feet.
“This is quite a show, but something tells me you need more…,” he whispered, reaching down for the flogger, its comfortable grooved leather a perfect fit in his hand. “You have been into my toy box, Karen. That is very bad. These are not your things to play with.” He held her around her waist with one hand, his lips centimeters from hers, then flicked the leather against her bare legs, making her yelp and her eyes darken. “You are going to have to be punished.”
She nodded slowly. He used the leather against her skin again, harder.
“Words. You have to answer with words when I ask you a question. Otherwise you don’t speak at all, do you understand?” He sensed her stiffen, as her inner bossy bitch warred with her need for him to take control. His cock ached, leaked, so he tore himself away from her to reduce the temptation to finish this.
Tears formed in her dark eyes. He frowned, but ignored them, determined to show her what she thought she wanted. “On your knees,” he said. She hesitated. The flogger bit into her ass again. “Sorry, but this is how this works. On. Your. Knees. On the bed. Now.”
She went, shaking, gasping when he ripped her bra into two silky pieces. He reached into the chest, drew out a set of nipple clamps.
“I’m going to take you places you think you want to go, Karen, but first you gotta give me a safe word. Any word. And understand that if you use it, I stop everything, the candles go out, and our little moment here is over.”
“Volvo,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Fine.” He smiled at her choice. They had matching pieces of shit Volvo wagons and joked about them plenty. “Easy to remember.” Then without preamble or warning, he got on his knees in front of her and put the clamps on her large, gorgeous, deep pink nipples.
She gasped, tears dripped down her cheeks, but she stayed quiet. He got them on, gave the chain
a little tug, pleased with her strength. But something in the back of his mind was yelling, loudly, telling him he was faking it. That he didn’t mean this and was in a scary, angry place in his head. A place he’d learned he should never, ever be when playing, or else he put his partner at risk of injury.
“Now…” He pushed her back so she flopped onto the bed, yelping in pain. He watched as if from a million miles away as he yanked her hands up and fastened them with the cuffs and pulled a silky blindfold over her eyes. “Let’s see how much of this you really want.”
“Evan,” she whimpered.
“Shh…,” he hissed, running his hands down her familiar flesh and reaching for the glass dildo. “You were having some fun with this before…” He kept a steady tugging motion on the chain clamps, while he straddled her hips and ran the glass toy down her stomach, stopping to tease her clit a second and making her moan before tossing the dildo aside. He watched her body flex, her skin pebble. He put a hand on his own throbbing sex. Then stopped, walked out of the room and left her there, while he grabbed ice from the freezer.
“Now,” he said, when he returned, “hold your breath.” He removed the clamps and covered her elongated nipples with ice, making her cry out and pull against the cuffs. He let her gasp and nearly hyperventilate, then ripped off the blindfold and released her wrists, flipped her over onto her stomach and yanked her hips up. She was close… on the edge, and he knew it. He pressed his shaft in the cleft of her ass, reached down to touch his finger against her throbbing clit.
Her back arched, she moaned, and he leaned over, bit down on her shoulder, groaning with her when she came all over his hand in a gush and pulse. This was simple, not even the tip of his iceberg, but it was all she could handle right now, he knew. And perhaps all he would ever share with her. His brain cleared.
“I’m gonna fuck you now, Karen. Hard.” He slid into her, the familiar depths and contours of her welcoming body like a balm to his soul. This was good. This was what he wanted. No more vanilla, but nothing like what he could really do. Not for his Karen. He yanked her hair, making her neck arch back so he could latch on with his lips and teeth while he pounded into her.
“Oh. My. God. Yes!” A cry ripped from her throat, which sent him right over the edge.
He woke, startled, as if from a dream to a near wide-awake state. Light flooded his room, but he was alone in the tangle of slightly stiff sheets. The candles were gone, the toys put away, and Karen sat on the chair opposite his bed, dressed, holding a coffee cup and staring at him. He struggled to process what was happening, to read her body language. Her eyes were flat, noncommittal in a way that got his guard way up. He sat, wincing when his raw cock rubbed against the sheet. “Hey. What’s up?”
“I’m breaking up with you, Evan.” She sipped, watching him as if he were the feature freak at the circus sideshow.
“Uh, what?” He couldn’t even rally anger, he was so confused. “You’re… But… I thought…” He heard himself and stopped talking as fury staring rolling in and clarifying his earlier confusion.
She set the mug down on his desk and leaned forward on her elbows, her dark eyes full of sadness. “I thought I loved you. And I may still yet. But I don’t like you. You scare me. This dark place you go – I don’t want it. I have enough darkness in my life. You…” She looked down, and he saw a tear slide to the floor.
He stared, still unable to process, gripping the sheets around his nudity like a shield. “You wanted it that way, Karen. You came in my house dressed and ready. And I gave you what you wanted. Several times, if memory serves.” His voice was low, calm, and with purpose.
She looked up, confusion clouding her gaze as he knew it would. She was manipulating him, needed him to force her back from this little news flash. But suddenly he didn’t care anymore. It was as if they’d stepped over a line, one he’d traced in the sand of their relationship. And now he didn’t like it over here, with her, on this side anymore. She was going to try and force him into convincing her not to break it off. But he was not about to humor her.
“I get you. I can be a little overwhelming, I guess. Now you know the real me. Not that I did not fucking warn you, tell you that we didn’t have to go… there.” He stood, naked and not caring, noting her gaze flick down over his torso, then back up to this face. He opened the trunk, rummaged around and found her glass toy. “Here. This is yours. You don’t want to leave it here. No telling who I’ll fuck with it next.”
Ignoring her gasp and unwilling to even look at her another second, he stomped down to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. The lightening in his soul scared him a little. Was he free of the fake relationship? Could he stop pretending to be one person for his “nice” girlfriend and someone else for all the women at the club? He whistled, frowning when she nearly ripped the shower curtain off the rod.
“You are a freak, Evan Adams. A creepy, nasty man who gets off hurting women.” Her eyes were bright, full of tears. He turned to face her, hands on his hips.
“Maybe. Lucky you that you don’t have to deal with me or touch me ever again. Go, Karen. Redeem yourself with a normal man. But don’t think you will ever come like I made you come half a dozen times last night.” He leaned in, putting his wet face inches from hers. “The way you wanted it.” He stepped back, tugged the curtain closed, and turned his back on her. Praying he was not turning his back on his last chance at normal.
He winced when he heard the front door slam, then smiled and started whistling again.
Chapter Eleven
“What the hell is with you?” Jack grumbled, pulling on his suit coat before they left for a trip to a new club downtown. “Christ. Bring Karen back. You’re gonna kill me.”
Evan smiled at his friend, shot Jenna a dirty look, then resumed brushing his hands through his hair. He was on fire, on the top of his motherfucking game, and was ready to rock this new club tonight; he felt it. He and Jack had received personal, private invitations and had accepted, although Jack said he was bringing his own sub now that bitchy Jenna was back in the picture.
She flipped him off, then resumed thumbing through a magazine. “Jack,” she whined, “let Evan go alone tonight. I want you to myself.” She uncurled her tall, stunning body from the couch and walked over to where Jack was straightening his tie. She slipped his coat off, buried her fingers in his hair, and kissed him so hard that Evan was embarrassed. He hated her; knew for certain she was screwing around but hadn’t figured out how to prove it, yet.
“Ah, baby, cut it out now. I told you, we are going to a new place. I think you’ll like it.” Jack placated her, gripped her ass and bit her lower lip. Evan looked away, disgusted. He had to get his friend out of that slut’s clutches somehow. But for now…
“All right, you two, let’s go. They were pretty strict about the time we should be there.”
Jenna sighed, glared at him, then slipped her feet into her towering heels and her arms in the coat Jack held out. Evan drove and spent the thirty minutes to the outer, nondescript suburbs ignoring the make-out session in the back. How his strong friend, Master of all he surveyed including the countless women who Evan had watched with his own eyes succumb to Jack’s charm, could get pussy-whipped by this horrific bitch, he had no idea. The last six months without Karen had been, as much as he hated to admit it, perfect. Because he no longer had to spend the effort coming up with excuses or hiding himself from a woman he thought he loved, he had so much more time and energy for everything else.
And Evan was on fire – kicking ass at school, interviewing like mad for some prime jobs in downtown Chicago, and his body and soul were at peace with himself and his preferred method of sexual activity. He never hurt anyone on purpose, but he damn sure knew how to push boundaries and never, ever let a sub down, be it for one night or several in a row, like he had been with one at the old club. He’d suspected her of getting emotionally attached, though, so he stopped, refused her once, and she never chose him again for play.
And now? He was about to jump headlong into a much bigger scene with a larger, more exclusive club and a lovely fresh set of potential playmates. He tingled all over and had to use his well-honed skills to calm himself, to force a veil of control over his psyche. The best subs could sense over-excitement a mile away, and he was not about to get left out tonight.
Ignoring Jack and Jenna once the valet had taken his keys, he walked to the door alone, presented his identification and his engraved invitation, and was escorted into a large dark wood-paneled room. He tried not to lick his lips, shoved his hands in his pockets and mentally picked out at least three women for his targets.
Once the formalities, general introductions, rules and regs were accomplished, half the people in the room left without a word, leaving Evan, Jack, and about ten other people, including three jaw-droppingly gorgeous women. He elbowed his friend, who was sipping tea and staring around with a flat expression.
“Dude, screw all those others. I want that one.” He nodded toward one woman whose deep mocha skin shone, drawing his eyes as if attached to a magnet as she chatted with one of the other men. She was dressed in a short black leather skirt and a cleavage-revealing silky tank top.
Jack snorted and turned away. “Get a grip.” Jack lifted his chin, making Evan look back over at her. She was staring, studying them both as if sizing them up. A clear shiver of lust shot down his spine. “She is way out of your league. C’mon, let’s go. I’m bored already.”
Evan raised an eyebrow at Jack’s apparent pique. But the other man would not meet his eyes and kept glancing around, taking in the expensively appointed waiting room. Something was up, Evan could tell, but he had been so mired in his own drama he’d not been paying attention. He rolled his neck around, trying to quell the rising anxiety he’d gotten when the beautiful woman’s gaze had met his, pinning him against the wall as if she had used her hands. His usual pleasant anticipation was tinged with a distinct edge of nervousness. He cracked his knuckles, absorbed the dirty looks of the other, calmer men in the room, and sat, pretending to ignore them all. But her eyes were on him the whole fucking time, and he knew it.
