Tied to the Tycoon (15 page)

How was that fair?

Ava wasn’t stupid or crazy; she knew life was better with love in it. But it didn’t seem like something she could count on. And now her mother, of all people, had found it, and Ava was doomed to a life spent alone, pushing people away.

People like Jackson.

Oh God. Jackson.

Even as Ava tried to ride out the silent storm that raged within her, all that anger and sadness and whatever the hell else was going on in there, the only person she wanted to be around was Jackson freaking Reed. He would get it. She could make jokes between tears if she wanted, and he would get it, and he wouldn’t…

He would
get
it.

And she’d just said a bunch of horrible things to him and left him, because he’d tried to be there for her, even if he’d been a jerk about it.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Ava announced.

Her mother and sister were even more surprised when Ava didn’t run for the bathroom, but for the door.

chapter
15

Jackson had been blessed with singularity of purpose from about five minutes after Ava had left the Volare estate until about five minutes after he’d found himself standing outside her dingy walk up apartment building in Alphabet City. He knew he
had
been blessed, because—very, very suddenly—it was gone.

Now he was just an idiot standing in the snow, wondering if he was a stalker.

He was frustrated by the uncertainty in all of this. It wasn’t that he was unused to ambiguity. He dealt in algorithms and languages and art, where ambiguity was almost a feature of expression, not a bug. But he was a decisive kind of man, a man who knew who he was and what he wanted and what he believed to be within the bounds of acceptable behavior—or, at least, he had worked very hard to become such a man.

 Anyway, none of that helped him figure out if showing up on Ava’s doorstep with some snow-covered flowers and an apology was sweet as all get out or creepy as hell. At least there was no doorman to give him dirty looks.

Yeah,
that
made him feel better. He didn’t like the looks of this building, and Alphabet City, while just trendy enough to be a little bit expensive, still had an unacceptable number of stabbings, as far as he was concerned. It was not the kind of place where he wanted Ava to live.

Maybe don’t lead with that possessive stuff, Reed. Apologies first.

Only Ava could make him feel stupid. Only Ava could make him feel dumb enough and angry enough that he pushed ahead and said and did things because he felt like it, even if his brain knew it was a terrible idea. It was the worst kind of boundary to cross, and the fact that he loved her didn’t excuse it. Of course she’d run away when he’d pushed her; he was probably
frightening
. He’d seen it coming. And he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

“Fuck!” he said out loud to no one in particular.

“Yup,” said a homeless guy huddled in the shadows next to Ava’s stoop, bundled up in the remains of several different coats and covered in a light dusting of snow. Jackson hadn’t even noticed he was there. He felt like a total asshole.

“Is there a shelter you can go to, man? Something nearby? It’s cold as shit out here tonight,” Jackson said, stomping his feet to feel his cold toes.

The guy shook his head, snow falling on his shoulders. “Don’t like those places. I got my heating grate. What’re you doing out here?”

Jackson looked at the flowers, now frozen solid. “Trying not to fuck up,” he said.

The man on the grate laughed. “Good luck.”

Jackson was thinking about how he’d already had more luck than he deserved in his short lifetime, and how Ava was by far the biggest part of it, when his phone rang.

It was her.

“Where are you?” She sounded stressed.

“Out buying ice cream,” he lied. “Are you ok? Where are you?”

“I’m at your apartment. I needed…” Her voice, tiny and fragile sounding, trailed off. “I need to see you. Ok? Right now. Please?”

“I’ll be right there, Ava. Don’t move. Don’t…don’t go anywhere.”

There was a pause, and the crackle of the snow-addled reception rang loud in his ear as he ran out onto Avenue B, intending to jump in front of the first cab he saw.

“I won’t,” she said.

Two cabs vied for Jackson’s fare. He dug out just enough money for the ride back to his apartment in the West Village out of his coat pockets, shed the coat, and threw it at the guy sitting on the grate. It was a tiny gesture, but it was all he could get away with right now.

“What’re you doing man?” the guy said. “This is a nice coat.”

“You wished me good luck,” Jackson said, ducking into the cab. “I got some.”

~  ~  ~

Clive, the doorman, tried to apologize for letting Ava up.

“I’ve seen her here before, Mr. Reed, and she looked up upset, and…” He spread his hands out, like it just couldn’t be helped. “It just seemed like the right thing.”

“Yeah, she has that effect on people,” Jackson said. “Upset?”

“Crying.”

Shit
.

Which was why Jackson wasn’t prepared to see Ava pacing across the living room when he came in, biting her fingernails, then heading right for him and knocking him dead with a smoldering kiss.

Hell, not just smoldering. Like she really
meant
it.

She finally slid off his chest, arms unwrapping, breathing returning to normal. Now he could see that she really had been crying. Ava Barnett was one of those fortunate women who somehow looked good even when crying. It made her look vulnerable—one of the only times she allowed that to happen.

“What happened?” he said. She didn’t answer him, her eyes already focused on something far away. He wasn’t going to lose her again, not already. He took her arm and spun her around. “Ava! What happened?”

She pressed her lips together in that way that meant there was something she was trying not to say, and shook her head a tiny bit. “Not yet,” she said. She seemed sad about it.

“Then what?” He felt frustration start to rise in his throat, and to stave it off, he put his hand at the back of her neck, lifting her face to look at him. He needed to feel her skin or he was going to lose his mind. “Ava, what do you want?”

“The payoff,” she said, barely audible. “You said the payoff of trusting someone…was worth it.”

“It is.”

“Please show me,” she said.

She said it so simply, without any irony. She was begging. Jackson could see that she struggled in that way that was peculiar to Ava, struggling against herself and every instinct she had to run and hide. Her mind and her heart were never going to lead the way. Her mind was too quick, and her heart was too scarred. Her body needed to show her. She needed to be dominated.

He gripped her hair at the back of her head, getting her full attention. Then he very slowly felt his way down the entire front of her body until he pushed his hand between her legs and grabbed her there.

“You’re mine, Ava,” he said, and watched her begin to sink into him, watched her sink into submission with palpable relief. This was where she should be. This was right. He would show her. He knew just the thing, something he hadn’t wanted to do with anybody else.

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

chapter
16

Ava’s hands shook as she fumbled with the buttons on her tailored oxford. She wasn’t nervous, exactly—it was like that time she’d gone rock climbing and her leg had started pumping uncontrollably. They’d told her it was adrenaline.

Whatever it was, it made her too slow. Jackson reached up and pulled the shirt open, sending a button flying.

“Faster,” he said.

She’d never seen him like this. It fit; it was what she needed. The intensity, the razor sharp focus. She felt like nothing else in the world mattered to him but her. Like he couldn’t even see anything else. His grey eyes were on fire.

“
Faster,
” he growled, and her fingers began to fly. That voice was not something to be disobeyed. It triggered something in her, something from prehistory, something primal.

She tore off her remaining clothes and stood naked, shuddering. He had this way of…
looking
at her.

“Ava, we’re going to have to go a little further,” he said. “You’re not going to have the option of keeping anything from me. Don’t try.”

His words passed over her bare skin, bringing it to life. Yes. That…that was what she needed. She couldn’t do it on her own. Running out into the snow, realizing that everyone else was somehow capable of this, of finding another human being and making a bond with them, of letting go and letting them in, everyone except her—Ava realized Jackson would have to
make
her do it.

He was her only shot.

And she was so grateful to see that he understood that.

“I’m going to do things to you that require you to trust me completely,” he said, stepping so close that she felt covered by his body. “You’re going to be scared, and I’m going to do it anyway, and then I’m going to fuck you.”

Almost casually, he reached between her legs, his favorite place, and then pulled back on her hair so she had to look up into his face. “You are going to have to surrender, Ava. Give it up completely. You understand?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Good,” he said, slapping her bare ass. “But first, I have to get you warmed up.”

He walked away from her, sucking on his finger where it had been between her legs, and reached for the phone to the front desk downstairs. She was bereft without him, already feeling herself more grounded, more connected to the world around her when some part of him was inside her. “What do I do?” she asked, lost.

He let her hang on his silence, his hand resting on the phone. Then he said, “You get yourself off for me while I make arrangements.”

“While you’re on the phone?”

He picked it up, pressing the button. “I’d say you have a minute or two.”

Jackson didn’t say what would happen if she refused. He didn’t have to. Ava was already swimming in the peculiar kind of freedom that had one singular focus: where disappointing him in anything at all would be painful.

But she had never done this before. She’d never masturbated to orgasm in front of anyone else. She realized it sort of belatedly; wasn’t she kind of old to have never done something like this? But then again, this would be one person, watching her at her most vulnerable.

Of course she’d never done it before. The thought of it in the abstract was horrifying. The thought of it while looking at Jackson, under his orders…

Tentatively, she lifted one leg and positioned her foot on the rung of one of his kitchen bar stools. Her leg shook slightly. If she was going to be bare, she should be
bare.

Jackson locked eyes with her. “Don’t look away,” he said.

Slowly, delicately at first, she began to touch herself. Instinctively, she wanted to close her eyes, to lose herself in the feeling, but there was Jackson’s command. His eyes never left hers.

“Clive?” he said into the phone. “Remember that deal we talked about? Yeah, unfettered access. About an hour or so. And I’d need the security cameras turned off. See if you can, I’ll hold.”

She was already wet, so wet, and suddenly she remembered she had only a minute or two—that’s what he’d said. She pressed down on her clit, biting her own lip to keep from moaning, and rubbed the wet hood against the bundle of nerves in tight little circles, faster and faster, staring at Jackson’s fiery eyes until she realized she was almost begging him, she didn’t know for what, but pleading with him. She blinked tears out of her eyes, the kinds of tears that came when you couldn’t think words, and a small orgasm ricocheted through her body in short little spurts that pushed her back against the counter while his eyes bored into hers.

 She felt the first layers of sweat on her brow. She’d given him a part of herself, and she still stood there, naked, in offering. His.

Very much his.

“Thank you,” Jackson said, and replaced the receiver. Then, without taking his eyes off her, he crossed the kitchen and pulled her to him by her wrist. He let her feel the length of him against her for just a beat, and then he kissed her.

“Thank
you
,” she said when he let her go. She found she was still breathing heavily. She looked down to find her flat stomach twitching, her whole body still primed.

“Ava,” he said sharply, and she looked up. She’d broken eye contact. “You’re not done. Go to the chest and bring me the blue vibe, the smaller red vibe, and the riding crop.”

Ava did not hesitate, and that surprised her. Her constantly churning, questioning mind was finally starting to slow down, to ease itself. To just let her be. This was what she’d begun to find so addictive about these scenes with Jackson, with this part of…whatever they were. These moments when he seized all control and she could let go.

She opened the chest and swallowed. The blue vibe was curved, textured, and
large
. The red one was smaller, and flared, and…could only be for one thing.

And, of course, the riding crop.

Her overactive mind attempted to revolt. She quelled it and delivered the vibrators to Jackson. He took them and eyed them appreciatively.

“We have some time before everything is ready,” he said, almost to himself. “And goddamn, do you need to get fucked.”

 Every muscle in her body tightened. He noticed, and a satisfied smile flickered across his face.

“Bend over the counter.”

Ava nodded and walked to the kitchen counter. It was a proper counter from the living room side, but it was at about waist height from the kitchen side, perfect for bending over. She didn’t realize she was dragging out her steps, walking slowly to savor how odd she was beginning to feel, until she felt Jackson behind her. He leaned forward and placed the vibes on the counter. Then he put his hand around the back of her neck, his other on her hip, and forcefully bent her over the counter. Her cheek pressed into the cold slate, and the vibes came in and out of focus, the only other things she could see.