by Sky Corgan
“Should I go bake us a cake?”
My stomach grumbles at just the mention of cake. A little voice inside of me, however, says no. It's like I can see the angel on my shoulder smacking me on the nose with a wooden spoon. You don't need to get any fatter. I ignore it and go with the devil's response, the part of me who is trying desperately to no longer give a crap about Lucian Reddick. “That would be lovely.”
“Chocolate?” she asks, as if she even needs to. Who in the hell ever wants to eat white cake when they're feeling down?
“You know me so well.” I give her knee a playful squeeze before she stands to head to the kitchen.
“Need any help?” I ask over my shoulder, already knowing she'll say no.
“Nope. Just turn the TV up a little, so I can hear it better.”
I lean over and grab the remote to turn the volume up a few clicks. While I really don't want to watch the movie, asking if I can change the channel will just queue Janice in to the fact that my problem is love related. Instead, I make a mockery of the movie inside of my head, thinking about how full of shit it is. Hopefully, she won't want to watch another romance after this one. I'm honestly not sure how much I can take before I let my bad mood shine through.
“I'm thinking of going back to Flesh,” she tells me over the sound of the television.
Flesh. Just the mention of that place makes me cringe. That's where I met him. That's when everything changed. I can't help but wonder if I had never met Lucian at Flesh if I would still be sexually involved with him now. There's no way of knowing though.
“Oh?” It's the most interest I can pretend to muster.
“Yeah. I had a lot of fun the first time I went. Besides, I think I'd like to do a few more scenes before I start looking for a Dom of my own. It might be easier to get a Dom if I'm experienced. Then again, maybe not.”
“You could probably find someone to do a scene with for free now.” I tilt my head to the side, but I don't look back at her. This is the best part of the movie, where the guy realizes he was being an idiot and goes to find the girl before she moves out of state and out of his life forever.
“I could, but I really like the professionalism at Flesh. I feel like those guys know what they're doing. I don't have to worry about ending up with some douche who is just playing pretend.”
Lucian definitely wasn't playing pretend. BDSM seems to be a big part of his sex life. I wonder if he's even capable of having normal sex.
“Well, whatever you want to do.” I shrug.
“Don't you want to go back?” Janice walks around the side of the sofa with a bowl in her hand and two spoons inside. She sets the bowl between us, sharing the leftover batter from the cake.
I take my spoon and start scraping the side of the bowl. We have a rule where we always leave enough cake batter so that we can each get at least two spoonfuls of raw cake. I think it tastes even better than cooked cake, but it's so bad for you.
“I honestly don't want to go back.”
“Why not?” She quirks an eyebrow at me. “I thought you had a good time when you went.”
“I did have a good time, but it's not something I'd want to repeat.” I keep my eyes on the bowl as I speak. “You know, I really only got into BDSM because you've been so obsessed with it. I was curious, but now my curiosity is satiated. Now I want to go back to normal relationships.”
She nods, obviously not excited that I don't want to continue the BDSM journey with her, but accepting, nonetheless. “Alright. Well, I'm glad you tried something new. I, personally, want to keep looking into it. Maybe Sir can eventually point me in the right direction to find a Dom of my own.”
“I hope it works out for you.” I smile weakly at her.
“Me too.”
We finished scraping the bowl, and she takes it back to the kitchen to put it in the sink. The scent of chocolatey decadence fills the room as Janice pulls the cake out of the oven, making my mouth water. It also reminds me that I haven't eaten since lunch. To be honest, I haven't really been hungry until now. Thinking about Lucian seems to have erased my appetite. Perhaps that's one good thing that's come out of this, though I'm sure that it's only temporary.
The movie ends, and I quickly take the opportunity to switch the channel to something else before Janice returns. Reality television is just as good as anything, watching teenagers drink and fight and have fun. This doesn't feel real either, but at least it's better than some bullshit fictitious love story.
“I didn't think you liked this stuff.” Janice screws her face at the television as she comes back to sit next to me.
“I don't, but there's nothing else on.”
“I think Meet Joe Black is coming on on channel two fifty-nine.”
“Ugh,” I groan, resting my head on her shoulder.
“What's wrong? You love Meet Joe Black.” She looks at me. Then something seems to click inside of her head. “Oh. Oh, oh, oh. Trouble in paradise already. Tell me all about it.” She pulls away and turns towards me.
Everything inside of me is fighting the urge to cry again. All I can manage to say is, “It didn't pan out.”
“What do you mean it didn't pan out? I thought he was a client of yours.”
“He is.” I rub my eye absentmindedly. “It's just...It's nothing. It turned out to be nothing. I don't want to talk about it anymore.”
Her face fills with concern, but she decides to let the subject go. “Alright. Well, if you want to talk about it, you know I'll listen. That's what best friends are for.” She smiles softly.
“I know, and I appreciate it.” My eyes flit up to meet hers.
She turns back toward the television, straightening herself. “No Meet Joe Black, then. Let's see if we can't find a show about a woman stabbing a dude to death. That should make you feel better.”
I laugh, “Really, Janice?”
“Well, I don't think we're going to find a movie about a woman cutting a guy's dick off. Those are few and far between.”
“Oh Lord.” I rest my forehead on my palm, wondering how I got blessed with such amazing friends. “When is that cake going to be ready?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It's Thursday, and things have returned to normal. As soon as I get to my desk in the morning, I open my email to a response from Lucian.
Miss Underwood,
I'd like for you to come over tonight to discuss the selections you've made for my bedroom. Please arrive at 8PM.
Regards,
Lucian Reddick, M.D.
Reddick Plastic Surgery
Entitled bastard is the first thing that comes to mind. I can't help but wonder if he even cares that he's making me work longer hours. At least, I get paid for it. My next check should be huge, since I'm able to clock the time that I'm at Lucian's house(within reason). Hopefully, this won't be my last paycheck.
“I got another email from Lucian asking me to come over,” I tell Derrick at lunch.
His jaw instantly tenses from the news. “Are you going to go?”
“I have no choice.” There's no emotion in my words, because I'm now completely numb to the whole Lucian Reddick situation. The power he's held over me is gone. I just hope I can maintain this mentality when I'm face to face with him.
Derrick hesitates, “You do have a choice, Amy. I know it's against the rules, but I can still go with you. There's no reason why you have to see him alone.”
Warmth floods my heart at Derrick's sweet suggestion. He really wants to protect me. It's an endearing thought.
I slide my hand across the table and place it on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I appreciate the offer, but there's no reason why both of us should lose our jobs over this.”
“You're not going to lose your job.” He shakes his head. “Tyra will understand as long as that jerk doesn't call and complain about you.”
“And what makes you think he won't?” I give him an earnest look. “When he breaks the contract, he's going to have to tell her somet
hing.”
His expression sulks, then turns hopeful again in the blink of an eye. “Maybe he won't break the contract.”
“We both know that's not how these things turn out.”
***
It's rendezvous time, and I'm strictly business. There were no additional hours after work spent changing my clothes and fussing with my makeup until it's perfect. I'm wearing the same thing I wore to work today: a pair of blue capris with a white button-down shirt and a gray blazer. It's not easy access. There's no way he's getting into my steel-clad chastity belt tonight. I've spent the entire afternoon mentally adding lock after lock to it. Lucian would have to have some romantic, amazing confession of love to break my resolve, and that's definitely not happening.
I arrive on his doorstep promptly at 8PM. Even though I tell myself I'm not interested in him anymore, my heart is still fluttering; my whole body is rigid. Part of me fears that he'll answer the door half-naked again. Will I really be able to resist all of that bulging muscle and perfectly kissable skin? The answer is that I have to. I have to, or else I'm going to keep plummeting down the spiral of depression I've been fighting to claw myself out of ever since I realized that I'm engaged in a meaningless relationship with him.
“Right on time, as always.” Lucian beams at me as he opens the door.
The knot in my chest softens a bit. He's wearing a shirt today. A white button-down shirt with gray slacks. It's the first thing I've seen him in that hasn't immediately made me want to drop my panties. While I still find him undeniably attractive, the fact that I don't instantly want to peel his clothes off means that I might stand some chance of resisting him.
“It's my job to be on time,” I reply curtly, stepping over the threshold.
The next thirty minutes are spent in complete professionalism. Lucian's focus is on the project, sitting next to me and going through my furniture selections. Out of everything I've picked out, his preference leans towards a sled bed with four matching pieces all done in dark cherry.
“Of course, I'll want to go see it physically before we purchase it.” His finger makes a lazy circle in front of my tablet.
“Certainly, Doctor Reddick.” I nod.
“Doctor Reddick?” He quirks an eyebrow at me.
If a look could slice through skin and bone, he'd be in two pieces. I'm not playing games with him anymore. I'm not his submissive.
“Yes, Doctor Reddick,” my words are pointed.
His expression is somewhere between concern and offense. He's not happy that I'm not giving in to him, not being the mousy, little obedient girl he's been interacting with all week.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
“No.” I try to soften my tone. Even though I feel incredibly bitter towards him, I don't want my bad mood to scare him away before he's even done anything wrong. If we can keep focused on the task at hand, then maybe I can escape his house unscathed for once. Perhaps my obvious disinterest will throw him off enough to make him give me space. “Let's continue.”
I turn my attention back to the tablet and swipe it with my finger to start going over the selections I made for his guest bedroom. As we look at the beds, I keep thinking about the one that's currently in his guest bedroom—the one we first had sex on. It will get moved to storage soon. Stored away like my feelings for him. I'm not sure why I'm thinking about it as such, but in truth, while I'm trying desperately to focus on business, half of the stuff going through my mind revolves around everything that Lucian and I have done up to this point, how he's treated me, how I feel towards him. It's like I can't get away from those thoughts, no matter how hard I try, and there's an ever-present tension from being around him, like the muscles in my neck and upper back are wound so tightly they might snap if I move my head the wrong way. I hate the way it feels. More than anything, I just want our meeting to be over so that I can leave and go home and take a nice hot bath.
“Is that all for today?” Lucian glances over at me when I finish scrolling through the pictures.
“That's it.” I type a few notes into the tablet about which furniture he likes before shutting it down and stuffing it into my purse.
“Shall we go into my bedroom to discuss furniture placement now?”
“That's not really necessary. I'll have Derrick plug the dimensions of the furniture selections you like into the digital blueprint of your house and then send you some layout choices tomorrow.” I stand, preparing to leave.
“I'm pretty sure I'm going to want the sled bed.” Lucian gets up as well. “Since we know how many pieces are in the set, it would probably save you some work if we went and looked at it now. I can tell you where I want the pieces, then you can have that guy put them into the blueprint tomorrow and send it to me. That way, you only need to make one.”
It takes everything in me not to sigh. While I know that what he's saying does make sense, I can't help but feel that there's some ulterior motive in him wanting me to come into the bedroom. Still, it's my job to keep him happy. As long as things stay professional between us, I should at least try to do my job.
“Fine,” I reply, though I'm pretty sure that he can tell I'm not happy about it.
Lucian leads the way, and I blankly stare at the back of his shirt. Soon, I'll be thinking about everything we did in his bedroom together. To be honest, I'm surprised that it's not making me horny. I want him. There's no doubt about it. But for once, my heart trumps my hormones. I know what giving in to him will do to me. I know that he doesn't really care, and for that reason, I've built an emotional wall around myself. He's not breaking down my guard this time.
We get to the bedroom, and I immediately start pointing out where I think the furniture should go. Lucian stands beside me, contemplating my choices and making a few suggestions of his own.
I try not to allow my eyes to linger on the bed for too long. Every time I look at it, I think of being tied up beneath him, of his thick cock pushing into me. It's making me feel things that I don't want to—to have yearnings that I shouldn't. And when I glance over at Lucian, it seems like he's become twice as attractive the moment we stepped inside the room. I hate that I want him. I hate that there's something about him that makes me feel so weak and vulnerable and needy.
It's just hormones. Only hormones. Only because he's the most attractive man you've ever slept with. One of the most attractive men you've ever met. This has nothing to do with logic.
“We make a good team.” Lucian slips behind me and places his hands on my shoulders, kneading into them.
My first instinct is to groan from the pleasure of the massage. I know his hands are magical from the foot massage he gave me when I twisted my ankle. A sane woman would have stood there and enjoyed it. A woman who doesn't entwine her feelings with sex. A woman who is able to separate them. I feel like none of those things right now. His touch only makes me want him more, and I can't allow myself to give in again.
Gathering all the emotional fortitude that I can, I push his hands off of my shoulders, clutch my purse against my body as if I can use it as a shield against him, and lower my eyes to the floor. “Are we done here?”
“I was hoping we weren't.” Lucian steps forward, reaching up a hand to caress my face, but I move away from him. “Are you alright?”
I hug my purse even tighter, all the muscles in my body seeming to tense up, making me feel like a frightened animal being backed into a corner. “I'm fine, Doctor Reddick. If our business is done here, I'd like to go.” I start walking towards the door, but Lucian gets in the way. My eyes meet his chest, but I refuse to look at his face.
“You look like you need to talk.”
“I'm fine.” I brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“I know what not fine looks like, Amy.” He reaches out to me again, this time grabbing me by the shoulders and roughly turning me around. A small gasp escapes my lips as I feel him push me forward, holding me by the shoulders, steering me towards the bed. “We're going to sit down
and talk.”
“I'm not interested in talking to you.” I try to pull away from him, but he's too strong.
He doesn't let me go until I'm facing his bed. For a moment, I think he's going to take advantage of me. A deep feminine part of me wants it. I like it when he's rough. I like it when he takes what he wants.
Instead though, he turns me back around, caging me in with his body. When I finally look up at him, his expression is dead serious, and it makes me want to cower.
“Talk to me,” his voice is surprisingly gentle.
“I have nothing to say.” I turn my face away from him.
He grabs my chin, directing my head forward. His eyes are hooded with desire. “Then be with me.”
Lucian leans in to kiss me, and every mechanism in my body seems to freeze. Inside, I'm already crying as his soft lips touch mine. I'm crying because I know I'm about to give in. His mouth is just too sweet. I don't want to resist him. I want to kiss him back and feel his hard cock pressing against me and spread my legs for him like a hoe. Like a hoe. Those words stick in my mind, and I somehow manage to find the strength to push him away. Hard.
He loses his balance and stumbles back. I'd be amazed that I was capable of using such force if I wasn't busy wiping my mouth and glaring at him. The part of me that doesn't care if I lose my job comes out. Rubbing away his kiss is a slight, and I can tell that he took it as such, because he narrows his eyes.
“Did I do something wrong?” He keeps his distance, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You've done plenty,” my voice sounds venomous, full of more disdain than I've ever heard from it before.
“I feel like I'm missing something.”
“I'm not interested in this.” I gesture around his room.
“You're not interested in redecorating my room?” He quirks an eyebrow.
I sigh, drawing my hand up to my temple in frustration. I can't believe the words that are about to come out of my mouth, partly because they're not true and partly because I know they're going to cost me my job. “I'm not interested in you.”
