Authors: Joey W. Hill
she was now wearing. Vaguely, she
remembered him
sliding her arms into it when he’d
had to leave the bed.
He’d murmured something about not
wanting her to get
cold, but stil wanting to see her. He’d
buttoned only the two
middle buttons, so he’d been able to
tease and fondle
wherever he wished. Now she
brought the open col ar to
her nose and inhaled the smel that
was Jon’s neck, that
lingering aftershave and male heat.
It took awhile to get her feet on the
floor, and when she
did, she blinked. Her room was
clean. The clothes she’d left
on the floor were gone, the dirty
dishes removed from the
dresser and the coverlet for her bed
was neatly folded at
the foot. She’d slept like an
exhausted, trusting child, so
deep he’d apparently been able to cal
in someone like
Mol y Maid and they’d worked
around her.
The alternative was too outlandish to
contemplate. If he’d
given her an orgasm
and
cleaned the
apartment, he wasn’t
a mere mortal. The man was a god.
She tottered to her bathroom. Also
too amazing to face
was the fact that what they’d done
last night was technical y
only foreplay. If he truly had fucked
her, she would have
needed a crash cart. It made her lips
twist in a wry smile,
though that same feeling twisted
something tight around her
heart. Daylight and reality. It was
coming. She could feel it
like the Four Horsemen of the
Apocalypse, ready to
trample her under their thundering
hooves.
Rachel, stop it. Savor it for a few
moments, will you?
In her bathroom mirror she saw the
usual features. A
forty-something woman whose face
was creased with
sleep, crow’s feet etched at the
corners of her eyes, worry
lines visible at her brow. But today
she saw other things as
wel . Lips that seemed ful er, bruised
by kissing. A look of
dazed wonder in her eyes. Her long
blonde hair tousled
around her face in what she dared to
cal sexy
dishevelment. She was clearly
delusional, but the
kaleidoscope of images from last
night were rotating
through her mind, shivering over her
mostly exposed skin.
Glancing down, she saw her water
glass by the sink
contained a casual arrangement of
lavender wildflowers
and Black-eyed Susans. They grew in
the back lot of the
apartment building. Paperclipped to a
sealed envelope
leaning against the glass was a note.
You’re braver than you believe you
are, Rachel. Follow
the instructions in the envelope.
The note had the Kensington &
Associates letterhead,
the address and phone number in
bold script at the top.
Jon’s handwriting was precise print,
reflecting the
compressed, dense energy of the man
who’d written it.
She stared at herself in the mirror
again, the way her
breasts were provocatively exposed
in the open shirt, how
the tails of it caressed her thighs. She
thought of that fabric
tucked into his trousers, having the
oblivious pleasure of
molding over his muscular buttocks,
the tails folded in near
his cock, the curve of his testicles.
Picking up the envelope, she opened
it. The words made
her sink down on the commode top,
her breath shortening,
stomach doing a flip-flop.
I wish I could be there with you this
morning, but I had
an early meeting at the office, and I
wanted you to sleep
as long as you needed. But you’re
not alone, sweet girl.
My mind is even now on you, and
what you must look like,
still wearing my shirt, your body
well-used by your Master.
She swal owed, a quick spasm in her
fingers rippling the
paper.
Now that you’re up, eat the
breakfast I left for you. Take
a bath, not a shower. Use those bath
beads you’ve
probably had forever and don’t use
because you don’t
take time for a bath. Shave your
pussy smooth. Wear my
shirt belted over the short black
skirt in the rear section of
your closet and the red heels that
are pushed behind the
other shoes. No panties or bra.
Leave your hair down. In
the back of your vanity drawer is a
lipstick called Wet
Cherry that almost matches the
shoes. Wear it. I’ll be
imagining that color marking my
cock when you get down
on your knees in my office and
relieve the hard-on I’ve
had since seeing you come all over
my hand last night.
No preliminaries. No dancing around
it. He was taking
control. How many times had she
fantasized about it? A
Master taking over her life,
orchestrating her every
movement for her pleasure and his
own. But her reality had
become something so far from that,
this was a fairy tale,
and a tremendously dangerous one.
What did she know
about him, except he’d been able to
bring her to climax for
the first time in years? What did he
expect from her?
Al things a rational, reasonable
woman would ask. But
the fear came from another part of
her, the part he
understood far too wel . Her gaze
dropped to the postscript.
You’re already trying to
compartmentalize, box me up
as a momentary fluke, something
best left as a one-night
fantasy. I wouldn’t advise that.
Trust me, Rachel. I know
how to care for you.
It was a cryptic comment, one that
could have many
meanings. But it didn’t matter. Even
if he meant it the way
she envisioned or desired, he
couldn’t take care of her like
that. It was too late. She lay the letter
aside, but this time
she didn’t look back into the mirror,
feeling too exposed.
She couldn’t do this.
If she was a different kind of person,
maybe she could
convince herself to throw caution to
the wind, let herself
have this. Earlier in the week, she’d
re-checked the article
about K&A’s “boy genius” and found
out his age. He was
thirteen years her junior, any older
woman’s fantasy. Al that
stamina and beauty, his feet a decade
away from the first
threshold of middle age and its
painful truths. For him, it
was merely intense games. He was a
Dom likely used to
taking on a submissive for certain
periods of time, no
commitment. If she let it stop right
here, she could say she’d
experienced a taste of what she’d
always wanted to
experience, and that was more than
she’d ever anticipated
getting. If she walked away now, her
heart would be no
more battered than before.
Whereas if she let herself have the
protracted fantasy, it
would destroy her.
The midnight chime had rung for her.
This Cinderel a had
hot flashes and a limited budget. A
monthly gym
membership and a weakness for
sappy movies and dark
chocolate. She’d learned to live
within the confines of that
safe orbit of things that defined her
world. So that was it.
But he’d given her a gift, and she at
least owed it to him to
tel him that, face-to-face.
Her two days of self-pity and hiding
were up. It had ended
with a glorious fireworks show, but
it was time to face Day
Three and its harsh reality, and get on
with her life.
* * * * *
Jon studied the slow-moving
Mississippi River from the
window of the K&A Baton Rouge
office. Jon had liked New
Orleans’ dark mystery, its unique
culture, but since they’d
moved to the Baton Rouge location,
he’d found he liked the
tranquility of this view. The
Mississippi’s deep, eternal flow
was an echo of what he felt flowed in
everyone. A sense of
truth, of the way life was supposed to
go.
Which was why people got so fucked
up when they were
tossed out of that flow, left on the
banks to gasp and dry up,
lost to themselves. He ran a hand
over his neck, clenched
the fingers then loosened them, trying
to shake out tension.
Trying to get rid of the troubled knot
in his lower bel y.
Married.
For over a year, he’d
thought she was married.
He should have known something
was off, since he’d kept
coming back to her class as if she
were a damn siren. But
he’d never thought to look under the
surface, respecting
that unbreakable code that another
man’s woman was off
limits. He’d ached for her, for the
pain and loneliness that
came off her in waves. That he could
have tried to assuage
months ago.
It wasn’t ego, though he wouldn’t
deny some of that had
been involved last night. She pul ed
things from him. Those
expressive hazel eyes, her baby dol
lashes framing a
mixture of gray, gold and green color
as fascinating as a
forest’s depths. The way her white-
blonde hair fel around
her face in that wispy, vulnerable
way. Her kil er ripe
hourglass body and how she was so
earnest and serious.
She needed to smile more. From the
first time he attended
her class, he’d found he could make
her smile, and the
hopeful light to it, a candle in a soul
shrouded in darkness,
had haunted his dreams.
Now his blood burned with the
knowledge he could make
her do far more than smile.
Knowing she’d thrown him off like
that had riled the
Master in him. So much for his
purported calm. Eastern
warriors of ancient times had written
that a man should
accept the warlike as wel as the
peaceful elements of his
nature. They should be al owed to
flow through him
unfettered, so that he could take the
best aspects of both of
them.
Instead, he’d unleashed his Master
side like a rabid dog.
He’d been goaded, chal enged and
he’d jumped in with
both feet last night. Then he’d left her
that note this morning.
It was too much, too soon, and he
damn wel knew it. She’d
spent God knew how many years
burying it in herself. Just
because he could see the gleam of
that treasure clear as
sunlight didn’t mean that she could.
And as Leland had
clearly pointed out, there was too
much he didn’t know
about why that treasure had been
buried.
K&A had considerable resources to
protect what was
theirs. Jon had assigned Shel ey, one
of their trusted
security personnel, to discreetly
watch Rachel’s place in his
absence, and she’d fol ow his
troubled submissive if she
left on any errands. While Rachel
slept, he’d also planted
the tiny cameras he’d brought in his
case last night. Shel ey
was monitoring the feed from them as
wel . Yeah, it might
be way the hel over the line, but he
didn’t real y give a
damn. He’d seen the scar on Rachel’s
neck from that close
gunshot. It had been faint, but the
impression was stil there.
It had branded itself on his mind.
He might have uncovered the treasure
inside her, but
there were too many demons
guarding it. He wasn’t going
to make the same mistake he’d made
at the yoga studio,
leaving her vulnerable to them. Shel
ey was only supposed
to cal him if something started
happening that caused her
concern for Rachel’s safety, and only
she had access to
what was coming through those
planted cameras. He didn’t
want to learn about Rachel through an
invasion of her
privacy. He wanted to unfold the
truth of her face-to-face,
savoring every bit of it, the good and
the bad, learning her
soul so that he could wrap his own
around it, bring them
together as he was sure they were
meant to be.
“And then Ben thought we’d hire a