by Dani Stowe
Of course, that slivering wet muscle is stronger than mine and I wish I could just push his whole body off.
But I can’t.
I cannot move. The rest of me is stiff—too afraid to touch him. I am content that relief will soon flood my body. Once my antianxiety medication kicks in, I will be relaxed to think clearly and free myself from Jaxon, but for now, I must take this assault.
It serves me right. I figure this is all my fault and I recall the very moment I tried to assault—or seduce—Jaxon when we were younger...
Jerking the curtain back open, I stepped into the shower.
“What are you doing?!” Jaxon cried, his cute, tight little white butt clenched as he swung his head around but kept his back to me.
Jaxon leered at my naked body. His head turned so far around, I thought he was about to break his neck. He noticed the golden condom packet in my hand.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Sue,” he muttered with his hands cupped together under the shower, allowing the water to flow freely over his front and pool in his hand.
“Turn around, Jaxon,” I demanded with a smile.
Instead of doing what he was told, he leaned his head forward under the water and I enjoyed watching the trickle of the shower fall over his short hair flat over his head, down his neck, across his shoulders, and down his back.
I remember thinking how perfect he was despite the fact he was short and skinny.
He was fun-sized!
Inside, I knew I could do whatever I wanted to him and force him to do things to me if I could just get him passed his shyness.
“Jax,” I called out.
“Give me a minute,” he said, gripping his chest. “I need a second to breathe.”
Breathe. The concrete in my chest begins to crumble. I finally feel like the air can move freely through my lungs as the rest of my body relaxes.
My legs find their footing. My arms unhinge from my chest to fall dangling at my sides and my fingers hang loose. My antianxiety medication has barely been digested, but I am thankful to feel the rapid effects infiltrate my nerves to calm me, relax me, and help me take Jaxon’s thick cudgeling tongue.
My lips become lax as Jaxon entangles his fingers in my hair at the base of my skull. My jaw comes open and Jaxon grunts into my mouth as his lips and tongue swirl back and forth, in and out, to pummel slick, sloppy, and firm over the front lower half of my face as if he needs to prep me—his meal—before he ingests me.
My lips are swollen. I notice they are throbbing when I also hear a cough, but it’s not coming from either of us. I push Jaxon back and peep my head past his neck to see people have gotten in the elevator with us that were not there earlier.
When did that happen?
Glancing over to the elevator panel, I notice the button to my floor is no longer lit. I push it. I have no idea how long we’ve been making out or how many times the elevator has opened and closed, but we’ve most certainly missed my floor.
Jaxon won’t let go of me. He keeps his hands entangled loosely in my hair. He hovers, watching me like a hawk, following my movements, and it’s obvious the people standing in the elevator behind his back are uncomfortable about the display. I make eye contact with the older graying couple holding hands and flash a smile at each of them.
“Sue,” pleads Jaxon massaging one of my shoulders. “Baby, tell me what’s going on with you. Why do you need those pills?”
The older woman’s eyes widen with inquisition.
Wouldn’t she like to know?
I shake my head. “Not here, Jax.”
The elevator doors open allowing me to scurry out as fast as my legs can carry me. I head down the hall, which seems endless. My legs are getting heavy from the medication kicking in.
I get to my hotel door and I struggle to find the keycard in my purse. I’m both flustered and benzodiazepinized at the same time. I lean my entire body against the wooden hotel door.
I need to lie down.
Jaxon snatches my purse from me and digs through it. He pulls out the keycard and swipes it through the card reader. I nearly fall into the room as he opens the door, but he catches me onehandedly, of course, wrapping his arm around my waist with my purse dangling at his other elbow.
“That’s some strong stuff,” he mentions, picking me up over his shoulder and carrying me to the sofa where he lays me down.
“I haven’t needed to take it for some time,” I admit. “Honestly, it’s just for emergencies.”
“And what type of emergency do you take that medication for exactly?”
“You don’t want to know,” I sigh and cover my eyes with one hand.
I feel a bump to the sofa as Jaxon comes to kneel at my side. He pulls my hand away from my face, grabs my chin, and forces me to look at that kid I once had a crush on but has grown to be beautiful as fuck.
“I do want to know and I’m not leaving until you tell me,” he says, his big brown cinnamon eyes beaming, making me melt.
I roll my eyes in the opposite direction. “Don’t you think discussing my health history is a bit much considering we haven’t seen each other in forever?”
“I still stink when I sweat,” he chuckles, trying to break through the awkwardness of the moment with humor.
But his confession makes my eyes wet. Jaxon’s body odor, I remember it so well. It was a smoky sour sweat mixed with cheap drugstore antiperspirant intended to double as cologne.
Over the years, every now and then, I thought I smelled Jaxon among a crowd of teen boys causing chaos in the mall or behind a group of young men in a movie theater while they tossed popcorn teasingly, occasionally allowing me to catch a single puffed kernel in my lap where I sat alone.
Of course, I loved the flirtation that sometimes followed, but no one smelled like Jaxon and I certainly didn’t want to look at anyone—no man, that might resemble Jaxon in any way, shape, or form.
Jaxon opens his suit jacket and he looks like he’s about to stand up to take it off.
“Don’t do that,” I beg, grabbing the front of his suit to pull him back down.
“I can’t take off my jacket?”
I shake my head, no.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he retorts.
I should probably be upset Jaxon just cussed at me, but I’m not. I understand his frustration, plus I finally feel at ease as my entire body relaxes. My medication has reached its maximum effect and I feel so free! ...and tired ...and loose.
Jaxon kneels, putting his forehead in my belly. “Sue, just tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“I’m a phallophobe,” my mouth lets go.
“You’re a what?”
His brow knits as his lashes flutter. I forgot how pretty Jaxon’s eyes are when they shine with curiosity. They gleamed a lot in high school—evidence he was always at the mercy of his own inquisitive mind.
“A phallophobe,” I repeat. “I have an aversion to male reproductive organs.”
He falls back to sit on his heels. “I don’t understand.”
“I have a fear of—”
“Don’t say it,” he interjects, rolling his head back to stare up at the ceiling as he strokes his jaw with one hand. “For some reason,” he sighs, “I get the feeling this is somehow my fault. I think I know what you’re going to say, Sue. Please don’t tell me you’ve been living with a fear of—I can’t even say it—for who knows how long because of one night we spent together, which was ages ago.”
I roll to my side to face Jaxon and reach for his tie to pull him toward me. I’m feeling brave at the moment...
No, I’m high, which is not bravery but it does makes me eager to be honest.
I’m come clean. “You are not the cause of my phobia, Jax. Your dick is.”
Dropping his arms at his side, the knot of Jaxon’s necktie rolls as he gulps. He shakes his head wildly and then puckers his lips to take a few quick heaving breathes, then exhales slowly as he rakes his hands through his hair finall
y allowing his head to drop—he looks defeated.
Seconds pass and his eyes wander back up to give me that look, that puppy dog look begging for mercy. He’s that kid in the shower all over again. I feel like I’m forcing him to submit—to be my submissive, with nothing more than my proximity.
I yank at Jaxon’s tie again except I realize I’m really gripping him to hold on, to keep me from leaning forward and falling face first off the sofa. My arm feels heavy, as heavy as my eyelids. I take one last peek at Jaxon worried that I can’t trust him. I’m about to pass out. “Juh...Jax,” I mumble.
Jaxon leans over, kissing my temple, and he speaks in my ear. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. You don’t have to be afraid. Trust me. I got you.”
He’s got me. Where have I heard him say that before? The fire, I remember. It was right before he pulled me to safety, to him. I close my eyes.
Chapter 6
Jaxon
Sue’s hand slips from my tie, falling straight into my groin. She snorts, passing out.
This is not the way I planned this day to go.
I genuinely believed the second Sue got a look at me, she’d see I’d changed, grown.
I figure I’d ask her out to dinner, charm her panties off, and we’d somehow end up in the shower again where I’d get a chance at a do over. She was the one who first came on to me—God, she was so beautiful.
Sue is snoring. I love it. She snored on the one night we were together and I like the way her bottom lip still gets tucked under her top front teeth when she’s fast asleep.
Shamefully, I’ve been dreaming a lot lately of those lips wrapping and rolling, twisting and plunging over my shaft with her teeth barely grazing against my flesh turned bone.
I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about her for so long—always in the back of my mind. I only got to be with Sue the one time and then she was gone. It took me years to find her again, but I knew to keep my distance until I could make a proper entrance. A part of me had always hoped maybe she was thinking about me as well. It’s hard to swallow knowing she’s been avoiding thoughts of me and particularly the parts of me that make me a man.
A tendril of Sue’s hair falls into her face and she snorts again. My gut warms as a laugh escapes me. I pull her hair up and away from her face, tucking the loose strands behind her ear and lean my face in to get a good look at my Sleeping Beauty.
Her face twitches. I believe she’s dreaming.
“Dream of me, baby girl,” I growl softly and her brow furrows. It’s curiously intriguing, so I continue. “Dream of me, Sue, taking you from behind, from the front, to the side. Dream of me inside you. Dream about that part of me you fear the most and how good it’s going to make you feel. Dream. Because I promise you, one day very soon, the fear you have of my anatomy will be gone. All your fears will disappear the moment my cock makes you come as I fuck you.”
Sue’s lip quivers and her body hitches. She nearly falls forward off the couch so I push her to lay on her back. I tuck her arms over her chest and stand up to take off my jacket, covering Sue with it, and planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
I pull out my phone to look at the time. Hopefully, Nick has returned to the top of his dark tower. I need to speak with him.
The elevator doors open to the top floor of NIM and faint cries echo softly between the interior walls of the elevator. I step into the hall and take a right towards Nick’s office. The cries pause. I pause as well to take a listen until the cries start up again, piercing through hot air scented of dark Arabica coffee roast coming from the end of the hall.
I feel like I’m about to break a sweat it’s so warm up here, which is not unusual. Nick must’ve had the air conditioning turned off, which can mean only one thing—the Bank is occupied. I feel like I’m back in Charlotte’s attic during the fire—there’s trouble ahead, but I don’t let trouble stop me because I survived.
Strutting down the hall, I see why the cries are so audible. Sunlight beaming through NIM’s exterior is leaking through a crack in Nick’s office door left slightly ajar.
That’s unusual. Nick doesn’t like his door left open.
Approaching Nick’s door, the cries turn into moans then guttural grunts and back to cries as the snap of what I can only guess is a whip?
I hear another snap.
No, a belt, is being slung sharply across a derriere.
I notice Loulah’s office, adjacent to Nick’s, is empty. Cupboards are everywhere taking up most of the floor space while the desk space has papers strewn about in stacks. A pink coffee cup—full—with added cream and steam still rising, rests stagnant atop a heap of skin-toned stuffed manila folders while more coffee is brewing, dripping into a stainless-steel tumbler.
Turning to face Nick’s office, I put my fingertips flush against his door and push lightly and quietly. As it opens, I tilt my head in and look to the left down the small dark hallway that leads to the Bank.
The cries are very loud now though they are also muffled at times and I’m somewhat shocked to see a woman, who is not the source of the cries, leaning her shoulder against the hall wall with her back hunched, head forward, and silent. Her arms are crossed over her chest and I notice the woman watching—the peeping Tom, dressed in a frilly black dress wriggles with the sound of each snap of the belt across another’s ass from the inside of the Bank.
I push the door all the way open and enter, walking right up next to Loulah. “How long is this supposed to last?”
“Oh God, Jaxon!” Loulah shouts with a twisting jerk. Her back lands flush against the hall wall as her palms plant flat, fingers spread, while her eyes widen and her cheeks chill white. “You scared me!” she gripes.
“You look like you’re already scared. Do you often spy on Nick when he’s with his submissives or—”
I notice the bends of Loulah’s elbows have bandaids.
“Lou, what are you doing?” Nick’s voice shoots from the Bank’s doorway where he stands sweaty, wearing only his black slacks and no shirt or shoes, belt in hand.
Loulah puts her fingertips to her lips, her eyes diverting to the floor as her chin trembles. “I... I was... Um...”
“Look at me,” Nick orders commandingly as he winds the belt tight around one hand. Loulah is reluctant to look, but she does so slowly. “Sheets and towels,” he says a bit softer than his previous interjection, “and caffeine please.”
Loulah looks back to the floor in front of her and adjusts her glasses. Her ponytail high at the back of her head bounces as she nods. “Yes, of course.”
My eyes follow Loulah as she exits Nick’s office and I hear Nick’s bare feet slapping across the black marble floor as he follows towards the door. “Mr. Nine,” he says charging past me.
“Mr. Nine,” I return.
“Lou! You didn’t shut the door,” he yells after her, slamming the door shut.
Nick stands idle, staring at the closed hard slab for a moment before he rubs his forehead and scrapes his chin. He cocks his head to me. “Does Lou seem to be acting strange lately?”
I scratch my head. “You mean besides the fact that I just caught her peeping on you while you were belting a chick across the ass.”
Nick throws his hand and shakes his head. “Lou watches me all the time. I’m not talking about that.”
“You let Lou watch you?” I’m flabbergasted! “Does she like that? Do you like that?”
“I don’t think she likes it but I don’t mind either way. Trust me, she’s seen a lot and I mean a lot worse.”
A loud muffled whine cries out from inside the Bank. Nick’s forlorn face gets cheeky and he laughs, “Ha ha, I’ll be right back.”
I wait patiently in the hall, my hands in my pockets, until a pretty young lady emerges in a black floral dress with red embellishments running along the low scooped neckline and highlighting the soft tops of her large breasts. Her dewy skin is flush red, as red as her long wavy hair. She makes me blush when her pretty blue ey
es lock into mine as she sends me a lascivious smile.
The woman just got spanked with a belt and it seems she’d like another to pick up right where Nick left off. Where does he get these girls? I wonder and then I remember Nick is a billionaire, but it’s probably not just the money. It’s something else. Nick would have women on their knees even if he’d been born without any money.
I know this is the reason he wanted the Bang developed. He wanted to be sure he knew who he could trust among his assets as well as his faults.
The redhead stops at the door as Nick strolls by to escort her out. He goes to slap her ass but his palm stops flat just an inch above her toosh and Nick plants his hand in his pocket instead.
The tips of the redhead’s curls bounce as she turns around, “Nick—”
“No, no.” He shakes his finger in her face. “Only my closest friends are allowed to call me by my first name.”
She glances at me then blinks with defeat and clears her throat. “Mr. Nine?”
“There you go,” he nods.
Her skirt sways. “I’d love to spend more time with you. Am I going to see you again soon?”
Nick reaches around the redhead with one hand to grab the door handle, opening the door, as his other hand presses on her back to guide her out. “I’ll have my assistant call you.”
I wait as Nick watches the redhead walk down the hall. Within a minute, he turns his gaze towards Loulah’s office. From beyond, I see Loulah fumbling about.
“Hey, Lou!” shouts Nick, poking his head farther out through the door.
“Yes?” she stammers. He doesn’t respond right away, only shuffles his feet and rubs his scars to his back. “Nick, do you need something else?”
His tone lightens. “Lou, you got my coffee coming, right?”
Loulah offers a genuine smile, which somehow turns the thick heat of the room into soft warmth. “Yes, I have it coming.”
