by HELEN HARDT
This place is my escape—in more ways than one.
Yes, it’s where I can indulge my darkest fantasies, whatever they may be.
But it’s also an escape from home. From Boston.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Boston. It will always be my home base.
But I don’t allow certain parts of my life in Boston.
Here, at the club, I wear a mask—albeit a metaphorical one. But in some ways, this is the only place where I’m truly myself.
I walk past the vacant bouncer’s desk and into the large common area, where I flip on the lights. The club looks so different without guests, almost as if it’s in some kind of dormant state, waiting to be awakened tonight with members and their fantasies.
I love this place.
More than once I’ve had a woman ask me why I enjoy the darker side of sex, why I enjoy taking such a dominant role.
I never answer. It helps me remain mysterious.
But the truth of the matter is that I don’t know.
Or rather, I do know, but I don’t like to think about the reasons.
The little boy from the food pantry, Benji, slides into my mind once again.
One little boy who shares my brother’s name…and he opened a window in my mind to things I prefer to keep dormant, much like the club is dormant at this hour.
The door to the exhibition rooms and playrooms looms ahead in the distance, but I have no desire to go through it.
I’m not here to think about sex or fantasies or what I want to do to Skye in my private suite.
I’m here to escape the thoughts that have been plaguing me since the trip to the food pantry.
Except this place is offering anything but escape…
…
It was Benji’s birthday, and Daddy was out on a bender. That’s what Momma said, anyway.
“What’s Daddy bending?” I asked Momma.
She didn’t answer because she was busy changing Benji’s diaper. My baby brother was one year old today.
My momma was beautiful. She had dark-brown hair and blue eyes, just like mine. Benji’s were brown like Daddy’s.
Momma bought a special cake at the bakery for Benji. It was chocolate with white icing and words in blue. Momma told me it said, “Happy Birthday, Benji.”
But when Daddy got home from work, he came in and got mad about the cake.
“The kid’s too young to even know it’s his birthday. Why the hell did you spend money on a cake?”
“He’ll only be a year old once, Bobby.”
“For Christ’s sake.” Daddy pulled open the screen door. “I’m out of here.”
That’s when Momma said he was on a bender.
I didn’t cry when Daddy got mad anymore. I used to, but I was a big boy now. Almost four years old. I only cried when Momma got mad at me.
Momma only got mad at me when I was bad. I tried to be a good boy because I hated it when Momma was mad. Luckily, she didn’t get mad a lot. She didn’t even get mad when Daddy yelled about the cake and left.
Instead, she said she had a treat for me. She said we’d eat Benji’s cake and have dessert first tonight.
Momma set Benji in his highchair and put a piece of cake on the tray. Momma and I laughed with him as he got more cake on his face than in his mouth.
And I forgot all about Daddy’s bender.
…
I open my eyes before I realize they were closed. I’m still in the club, sitting alone at a table in the corner. A quick check of my phone shows it’s time to leave for the airport.
I rise abruptly. “Enough of this self-indulgent bullshit,” I say out loud. It’s becoming nauseating.
I walk briskly out of the club.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Christopher is off tonight, as I thought I’d be in New York, so I take a cab home to my place, where I find my driver hanging out talking to Marilyn in the kitchen.
“Not taking advantage of your night off?” I ask him.
“Mr. B, what are you doing back?”
“Change of plans.”
“You need me to work?”
“Not tonight. I may tomorrow, but I’ll pay double time, since I’m reneging on your week off.”
“Not a problem,” Christopher says, “though I should tell you…”
“Tell me what?” I walk out of the kitchen, looking at my phone.
Christopher follows me into the living area. “Ms. Manning was here a little while ago.”
That gets my attention. “Skye? Here? Why? She knows I’m supposed to be in New York.”
“Yeah, she does,” Christopher says. “She brought over a basket of goodies for Sasha. It’s on the island in the kitchen.”
“It is?” I stride back into the kitchen.
Sure enough, a gift basket from Betsy’s Bark Boutique sits on the marble counter. Not sure how I missed it.
Betsy’s Bark Boutique. I know that name. Betsy…I can’t recall her last name. She’s a friend of Addison’s. They go way back, even further than Addie and I go.
“I took Sasha on a walk earlier,” Christopher says from behind me.
“Great. Thanks.”
“I dropped her off for an hour of play time at the doggie daycare. In fact, I should go pick her up.”
“Thanks,” I say again. “You don’t have to hang around here on your day off. Annika can take care of Sasha.”
“I don’t mind. I love that little pup. If you don’t need me, I’ll go get her.”
“Fine. See you in a bit.”
Christopher leaves the kitchen, and a few minutes later, I hear the sound of the elevator door sliding open.
Now, to deal with why I came home.
Skye.
Who has apparently already been here once today. The gift basket from Betsy is filled with homemade treats and a lot of toys. Not an inexpensive gift. Why would Skye buy such a thing for Sasha? Was it an excuse to come here? If so, why? She knows I’m gone.
Marilyn finishes cleaning the oven. “I’m done here, Mr. B. But now that you’re home, do you want me to make you something?”
“No. You’re off this week, too, Marilyn. I don’t want my sudden appearance to upset your plans.”
“Perfect.” She smiles. “Thank you. See you in a few days.”
Again, the elevator doors slide open, the bell dings, and with Marilyn gone and Annika upstairs, I’m alone.
Back to Skye Manning.
She’s the reason I cut my trip short. The reason I gave Dimitri Stamos the extra responsibility he’s been asking for.
The reason I’m standing here in my penthouse, wondering how I’m going to see her tonight.
I could show up unannounced at her place again, like I did last night.
But God, that makes me look a little needy.
I’m not needy. Not at all. I just know what I want. No shame in that.
If Skye and I are going to continue down this path, she needs to know what I want as well.
I pick up my phone to call her when the intercom buzzes from downstairs. Christopher and Marilyn are gone. Annika’s upstairs, and I’m not expecting anyone.
I walk to the intercom on the wall next to the elevator and push the button. “Yes?”
A pause. Then, “You… You’re supposed to be in New York.”
Skye. Skye’s voice.
Skye is here.
“Skye? What are you doing here?”
“I dropped off some treats for Sasha, and I think I lost an earring. I just wanted to come up and look for it.”
She’s not that good a liar. I smile, shaking my head. She came back for some reason, though, and it’s not to see me because she knows I’m out of town. Except now I’m back.
Curiosity wins me over.
“All r
ight. I’ll send the elevator down.” I push the button.
A few minutes later, the elevator doors open. I stand in the entryway. Skye’s hair is tumbling out of its ponytail, as if she ran over here. For some reason, it makes her look all the more delectable.
“Good evening, Skye.”
“Hi.” Her voice cracks.
“Thank you for the treats for Sasha. I just saw the basket in the kitchen.”
“You’re welcome. I got it free at a shoot, and of course I have no use for it.”
So that’s how she got it. She wasn’t so presumptuous as to go out and purchase a gift basket for my dog. It fell into her lap. I’m both relieved and disappointed.
“Nice of you to think of her,” I say.
“Why are you home so soon?”
“I was able to complete the business early.”
“In one day?”
“Does that seem implausible to you?”
It should. It’s damned implausible to me, and it’s also untrue. I didn’t complete the business. I delegated it.
She doesn’t reply right away. She twiddles her fingers together and darts her gaze around the room a few times.
She’s nervous.
“Braden”—she clears her throat—“I didn’t lose an earring.”
“Oh?” No surprise there. I can’t resist a tiny smile. “Why are you here, then?”
“Because I…” She draws in a deep breath and holds it a few seconds.
“Spit it out, Skye.”
A moment passes in silence before she pulls a crumpled envelope out of her purse then thrusts it at me. “To return this.”
I wrinkle my forehead and take the envelope. It’s from the Ames Hotel—a bid to host a past event.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she says. “I brought the stuff for Sasha, and then I went to the bathroom. I saw all the mail in the magazine rack, and I couldn’t help myself. When I saw the Ames Hotel envelope, I just… You won’t tell me about you and Addie, so I thought maybe…”
“Maybe you could figure it out from this?”
“I didn’t even look inside. I swear it. I felt terrible about it, and that’s why I came back. I was going to come back up here and replace it in the powder room so no one was the wiser. But now you’re here, and I…I don’t want to lie to you, Braden.”
I open the envelope, withdraw the paper inside, and hand it to her. “It’s a bid for an event my foundation hosted last year.”
She glances at the letter. It’s dated more than a year ago. A quick look at the postmark would have given her this clue.
“You see,” I say. “Nothing about Addison and me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you really think I’d leave anything important sitting in my powder room?” I ask.
“No. I…” She sighs. “I wasn’t thinking at all.”
Tension flows off her body. She’s waiting. Waiting for my reaction.
I’m angry. I’m amused. I’m perplexed—which seems to be my normal state around Skye.
And I’m turned on, which makes no sense at all.
She won’t let my past with Addison lie, and she must. I don’t talk about it for many reasons, none of which I’m ready to go into with Skye. Like most of my childhood, it’s better left in the past.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says. “I understand if you want to…”
I cock my head. “If I want to what?”
“Not see me anymore.”
I laugh. The boisterousness of it surprises even me. I cut my trip short, delegated important duties…and she thinks I’m going to refuse to see her?
Can she let me go that easily?
She seems willing.
And then this isn’t funny anymore. Not in the slightest.
“What’s so funny?” she demands.
I pull her against me, my lips pressing against her ear. “Nothing is funny about this.”
“Then why did you—”
“You want to know why I’m home early? Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted you in my bed. I almost sent you a plane ticket, but I knew you wouldn’t take off work with no notice. So I came home. I came home because I couldn’t wait five fucking days to see you again.”
She swallows. “So…you’re not angry with me?”
I meet her gaze with anger bubbling through me. “I didn’t say that.”
She swallows again. “Then you are angry?”
“Of course I’m angry. Who wouldn’t be?”
She stays silent.
“The question is, what do I do about it?”
Again, she has no response.
“I could end things with you, but I didn’t fly two hundred miles today to punish myself.”
Ending things with Skye is not an option. At least not yet.
“I could take you over my knee and give you a good spanking. It’s what you deserve.”
She walks backward, away from me, until her back hits the wall beside the elevator door. I close in on her.
“Your lips are parted in that sexy way,” I rasp. “I want to kiss you so hard that your knees give out.”
She inhales a slight gasp.
“That wouldn’t punish you, though.”
She stays silent and closes her eyes.
“So no kisses tonight. I’m going to spank your creamy ass, and then I’m going to take what I came all this way for. And you’re going to let me.”
Her bourbon eyes narrow slightly. She’s thinking. Thinking about how she can give in yet still maintain control. She wants this as much as I do. I can feel it in the pulse of her body. Already she’s wet. Ready for me.
“Braden…” she whispers.
“Yes?” I lock onto her gaze with laser focus.
She inhales sharply. “Do what you need to do.”
In a flash, she’s in my arms, and I’m carrying her to my bedroom. I throw her on the bed and tug off her shoes, slacks, and panties. She spreads her legs, giving me full view of her arousal. Fuck. She’s pink and swollen and glistening with cream.
But that pussy won’t be climaxing tonight.
I close my eyes and inhale. “You smell like heaven. I’d love to taste you, Skye. Give you a hundred orgasms like last time, but that wouldn’t be punishment. So I’m going to spank you. Then I’m going to fuck you hard and fast and take my own pleasure.” I unbuckle my belt and unzip my fly. I yank my pants and underwear over my hips. My dick is fully erect, and a small pearl of clear liquid emerges.
I toss her over onto her stomach and bring my palm down on her ass.
“Ow!” she cries out.
Another slap. Then another. The pain I give her flows back into me via my palm and throughout my body. My cock throbs. Her ass is deliciously rosy.
“Gorgeous,” I rasp. “So pink.”
I slap her again and then once more.
I raise my palm for another, but my dick has other ideas. My whole body is awake with passion and desire, as the pleasure-pain I’ve given Skye rips through me like a tidal wave.
I flip her back over so she’s lying on her back.
I push her legs forward and thrust into her.
She cries out.
I fuck her hard. I fuck her fast.
And with her legs pushed so far forward, my pubic bone doesn’t nudge her clit.
Her body responds anyway, which is exactly what I want. I’m going to take her to the peak.
But I won’t let her jump.
I flick my thumb over her clit just enough to get her climbing, and then I plunge deeply inside her, embedding myself in her body and taking my own pleasure.
After only a few thrusts, I release inside her, groaning, cursing her name, and it feels amazing. Fucking amazing. Just as amazing is that I came so q
uickly—that my need for her is that profound.
I don’t feel one iota of guilt about her lack of orgasm. She deserves to be punished.
This doesn’t surprise me. What does surprise me is that my release is less potent.
Less potent because Skye wasn’t joining in it.
A first for me.
When I finally stop pulsing, I stay inside her for a moment, my eyes closed and my hands clamped onto her thighs.
I pull out then and open my eyes, determined not to allow my newfound revelation to change the course of the evening, the course of giving Skye the punishment she deserves.
She says nothing. Just lies there, looking beautiful but unsatisfied.
I don’t particularly like leaving a woman unsatisfied. Especially Skye.
No! I will not relent.
I pull up my pants and fasten them. “Have you eaten?” I ask nonchalantly.
She’s still naked from the waist down, her legs still spread, my semen seeping out of her. “Well…no. Not yet.”
“Get dressed. Marilyn is off this week, so I’ll order something.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
I make a quick call to a Thai place I love and order dinner. I’m pouring two Wild Turkeys at my bar when Skye appears, now fully clothed, her ponytail no longer mussed.
She’s beautiful, but I like her mussed. By me.
“There you are,” I say. “I ordered Thai food.”
She nods. “Sounds delicious.”
I hand her a glass. “Wild Turkey goes great with Thai.”
She smiles. “Wild Turkey goes great with everything.” She takes a sip.
I take a sip as well, enjoying the subtly harsh smokiness on my tongue. I let it trickle down my throat slowly.
The silence grows in the room.
“Braden?” Skye finally says.
“Hmm?”
“I’m…really sorry about…you know.”
“We don’t have to talk about that.” She doesn’t know how much I mean the words. She did it. I punished her.
Now it’s over.
I’ll file it away in my mind along with those myriad other things I don’t like to think about.
The list seems to grow longer by the day.
“But we do,” she says. “I don’t want you to think I’m the kind of person who—”
