Reign on Me

by Zoe Devereaux

  More than once, he’d pleasured her, and each time his obsession with her had become greater. With her, there was no such thing as physical or emotional detachment.

  No, he was fully snagged.

  For every time, his fingers met her skin, it seared his senses, and easily he’d become enraptured within the moments. With every fractured breath that she’d released, he’d literally breathed it in, and deep down, he realized that he was finally alive. Her wild, passionate cries had splintered through his consciousness, and they’d drowned out any sense of reality. As he’d fallen prey to her, he’d succumbed to a madness that he’d never known existed.

  He’d become lost in her.

  Being with her---

  Venturing upon the newly discovered plateaus of sexual pleasure---

  Watching her come alive---

  It rocked him to the very core.

  Even now, her earth-shattering screams reverberated through his system; and as each violent orgasm had claimed her, he’d been witness to the wonder.

  Her passionate and primal reaction had been enough that it’d driven him to a state of sexual frenzy. As he’d taken her, he’d taken himself, and his own physical releases had stripped him bare.

  Each one had been so emotionally charged and powerful for him, he thought, finally leaving the car, and then stopped at the very exact point where they’d stood earlier. More than that, she stirred the dormant feelings he long thought buried.

  The fact that he was a loner was hardly a secret, and everyone in his inner circle accepted that fact. He was accustomed to being alone and keeping an emotional distance. All these years, he’d convinced himself that he was past the point of needing or wanting anyone.

  A hard sigh left him.

  But, his sudden desire to know really her, the shy woman known as Hayven, was shooting all kinds of holes into that long held theory.

  A breeze stirred through and caused the shirt to billow open. Still, though, it did little to cool his burning thoughts or lessen his distress.

  He swept a tortured gaze over the city.

  A woman like her…

  She could never be with a vile creature like him, for he’d sold his soul to the darkness many years ago. With that very darkness, he’d extinguish her bright light and kill her joy.

  In the scheme of things, what could he really give her?

  “Guess it’s true after all---I’m forever fucked,” he cursed softly, staring at the city again, and it hurt to say the words out loud. At once, the resentment built inside of him. “It’s a bullshit fact that I need to remember.”

  As that awful truth resounded through him, he turned and walked away.

  Chapter 10

  The morning hours passed in a blur. When the hour breached noon, she was still abed, too exhausted from the events of the night before.

  But, at exactly, 1:17 pm, the shrilling cell phone which was on its thirteenth ring or so, and it was enough to finally awaken her. She slapped a hand at the nightstand and finally found the cell phone. Fighting to breach past the grogginess, she forced her eyes open and sleepy confusion masked her voice as she answered. “H-hello.”

  “You’ve had me worried sick. Why haven’t you been answering the phone? I’ve been calling you for hours.”

  Her father’s disgruntled tone was enough to snap her fully awake. She bolted up in the bed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry,” she croaked before wincing against the stream of sunlight filtering past the drapes. “What time is it?”

  “Almost 1:30 in the afternoon. Why are you still in the bed at this time of the day?” Then, suspicion played in his voice. “How long were you out last night and exactly where did you go?”

  The guilt surged through her.

  But, she stifled it quickly.

  At this point, he didn’t really have the right to question her actions and motives, she huffed testily, shooting a defiant look across the hotel room. Truth was, she was tired of having to defend herself all the time, and perhaps, it was high time that she stopped.

  “Is that really important?” she frowned against the phone. “And what is it with you questioning me all of a sudden?”

  “Don’t take that attitude with me,” Pastor Jonas muttered in an authoritative tone. There was no doubting his desire to prove a point. “You know that I won’t stand for it; and don’t avoid the question. What were you up to? It’s unlike you to sleep in this late.”

  “It’s called a vacation, Dad,” she groaned, falling back against the pillows, and blew a frustrated breath. “Tell me what harm it is with me sleeping in.”

  “As long as it’s for legitimate reasons, there isn’t. But, something tells me that’s not the case with you. Exactly what time is this so-called workshop of yours today?” her father probed, and she easily imagined his pinched up brows. “Is it going to be as time-consuming as the others have been the past couple of days?”

  “I’m not attending a workshop today.” She tilted her chin stubbornly. “As a matter of fact, this day belongs to me, and I’m certainly not going to spend it being cooped up in this hotel room,” she said, finally stating the truth for once. “I think that I have the right to a little fun. Being a pastor’s daughter doesn’t mean that I have to close myself up to the rest of the world.”

  Oops, how did she let that slip out?

  “No one expects you to, and I’m a little stunned, not to mention hurt by that comment. Why would you say such a thing? You speak of your position as if it’s somewhat of a curse. No, something’s going on with you,” her father said knowingly, and she sensed the silent probing questions in his voice. “Don’t bother denying it, and please don’t lie to me.”

  “With all due respect, Dad, I love you, and I highly respect your opinion. If it sounded like I begrudged the fact that I’m a preacher’s daughter, I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention,” she sighed, resigned. “But, this is my life. Being my father doesn’t give you the right to know every single detail about my life. I have the right to some privacy.”

  “Of course, you do. But, just because you’re a grown woman now, that doesn’t mean that we’re going to stop caring about you or worrying about the decisions that you make. Your mother and I raised you to be respectful and dignified, and your lifestyle should mirror that,” Pastor Jonas sighed in turn, piling the guilt on. Again, he recognized her sensitivity level easily and worked to ground her to his total way of thinking. “This sudden shift in attitude of yours only further proves that you’re hiding something. I’m sensing a defiance that’s rather unbecoming.”

  “I’m not being defiant,” she said blowing a frustrated breath. “You know what? I think that we should just drop this conversation. It’s obvious that we’re not going to get anywhere with it.”

  “You’re right. We should. The last thing that I want is to fight with you. When are you coming home?”

  “In a few more days.”

  Staring across the room, she struggled against the feelings of both disappointment and loss. All too soon, she’d return her boring, idealistic lifestyle, and be forced to leave behind the very man that gave her life.

  “Good. We need you home. Things are on the upswing here. We’re already planning and organizing the annual Pastor’s Conference. Of course, we could use your expertise with the promotion of the event. You know that I’m a technology dinosaur. So, you’ll have to deal with all of that social media stuff.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and it was his general nervous tick when he was about to unload something heavy on her. “Brother Johansson will be working closely with you as well. To show our appreciation for his efforts, your mother and I have invited him to dinner next week. We’re hoping that you’ll be open to attending, of course.”

  She bit back a sharp retort.

  Was there no end to their meddling!

  “Why are you adamant about forcing things with me and Richard? There is absolutely no---”

  “Everything is not about you, Hayven,”
her father said stiffly, immediately on the defensive. “Showing gratitude for the deacon’s efforts and works is a responsibility, duty, and honor. My efforts are just that.” He paused in thought before talking again. “But, I won’t deny that it’ll please me if your relationship with the deacon flourishes into something more. You can’t deny that the two of you mix well. I see the two of you talking at church.”

  “Being courteous and nice doesn’t equate a relationship,” she retorted quickly with another frown. “There’s nothing personal whatsoever with our interactions. It’s practically the same with all of the other deacons: strictly platonic.”

  “Platonic is good. Some of the best relationships begin that way,” Pastor Jonas said encouragingly. “Compatibility and friendship are key to any long lasting relationship.”

  “What about mutual love and respect? Aren’t they equally as important?” And passion as well, she wanted to say, but thought better of it. There wasn’t any point in setting off any more alarms in his head. “Enough about me and my non-existent love life, okay? I’ll help with the promotional stuff and anything else that you need help with.”

  “And the dinner---will you come as well? Your mother will be highly disappointed if you don’t show.”

  She hesitated.

  Feeding into their matchmaking fervor would be the wrong thing to do. But, one dinner didn’t mean a lifetime commitment, she rationalized quietly. So, perhaps she should indulge them just so that they’d leave her alone about it.

  “Okay, I’ll come to the dinner. But, please don’t expect anything to come out of it.”

  “Good. Just keep an open mind about this. And while I hate to say it, it’s true. You’re not getting any younger. The older you get the less prospects you have. Also, it’s true what they say about a good man being hard to find. Please remember that.”

  But, she was remembering her prospects, she mulled, staring up at the ceiling after their call ended. Her sole prospect was the very man that she could never have, she mulled, and her spirits sunk.

  Christopher.

  The man who captivated her beyond reasoning…the one who stirred the deepest passion and fire inside of her…

  “Why do you have to be forever out of my reach?” she whispered, despondent, and was immediately overcome with a feeling of regret. “You’re the very man that I’ve dreamt about my entire life. But, we’re nothing more than a fantasy.”

  Flipping over onto her stomach, she hugged the pillow against her body and closed her eyes tight. But, still, the memory of him dominated her very thoughts. Even now, she could see him, feel him, and taste him. Quickly and easily, he’d become her obsession for he was at the forefront of her every thought. There wasn’t a definitive enough label to describe her growing attachment to him.

  He was her addiction.

  Last night, after each of their steamy encounters, they’d held one another, and it’d seemed that they couldn’t get close enough. And he’d touched her again, again, and again, making sure that the pleasure was all hers and hers alone. Every mind-boggling orgasm had been more powerful than the first.

  She trembled at the remembrance.

  With her every breath, she’d breathed him in.

  He was the only thing that mattered.

  Yet, as well as a physical connection to him, she felt an emotional too. Somehow, they just seemed to fit. During the dark hours of the night, she’d wanted to voice those very thoughts. However, she’d been afraid to for she wasn’t sure of his reaction. For how was that even possible, she mulled quietly, especially since they’d only known one another mere days? Was it because she’d been obsessing about him for weeks by reading his bio and studying his profile for hour on end? Perhaps that very thing was warping her perception of them.

  But, no, her mind argued back.

  Sometimes, things happen with that certain someone because they are simply made for you.

  In the early dawning hours of the morning, she hadn’t wanted to leave him. It’d seemed that he’d held the same conviction. But, neither of them had voiced a single word as they’d separated.

  The very truth sang in her heart.

  She wanted to know him.

  The loner known as Christopher---

  “I know that it doesn’t make sense. But, I don’t want us to end,” she sighed, despondent, staring at the headboard. “I don’t even want to think about the moment when I’ll never see you again.”

  That very thought haunted her an hour later as she nursed a cup of cappuccino at Romano’s Bistro Café, about ten minutes away from the hotel. The place was packed and bustling with activity. Fortunately, they’d been able to seat her at the back corner of the café. From this vantage point, in the single booth, she was out of view from the rest of the patrons.

  Life was carrying on as usual, she thought, peering through the glass window, and watched as the pedestrians ventured upon their way. Practically everyone seemed to be in a hurry and didn’t take time to appreciate the splendor of the beautiful spring day.

  At the moment, neither could she.

  For in a few days, life would be normal for her again. But, would the repetitive balance be easy to live with and accept as before, especially after what she’d experienced with Christopher? In his arms, she realized the beauty and extent of real passion.

  Life was more than simply existing.

  “And I want to live,” she whispered past the clogged tears in her throat and blinked at the moisture in her eyes. “I don’t want to go back to that lonely place.”

  For twenty-eight years, she’d done just that and lived a very predictable life.

  Everything was a boring routine.

  Each day, when the clock struck 4:30 am, she crawled from bed. Her morning shower took practically 15 minutes. Then, by 6:15 am, she was en route to school. After that, when the school doors opened, she began the daily routine of educating students. Not that she didn’t enjoy teaching, she reflected silently. But deep down, she knew that there was more to her life than her career. Then, the rest of her day entailed curling up on the sofa and reading a book. Or on some days, it meant just watching TV for hours on end.

  She sighed hard.

  For some unknown reason or another, she felt like crying---simply, because for the first time, she was embracing some hard truths. Yes, she was a daughter, friend, and teacher. But, at the heart, she was a woman.

  A woman that bled and had feelings just like any other---she needed to love and be loved. Yet, all her life, it was the one part that she’d always been denied.

  But, he made her feel alive, she thought quietly, blinking back more tears. As sinful and wrong as their association was, he made her feel real…special…beautiful…

  He’d found her pulse.

  The very essence of her…

  The idea of losing that reality was saddening and heartbreaking; and going back home and just being plain, responsible, and boring Hayven Grace meant losing her real herself again.

  But, maybe that was just the hand that fate had dealt. Some people were born to be wild and free while others were destined to be prisoners within their own skin.

  Definitely, she was the latter.

  It was fact she had to accept.

  She’s sick and dying.

  Call me 555-8749.

  The words glared up at him from the tiny slip of paper, and like before, they elicited an emotional firestorm amidst his already tumultuous thoughts.

  For the thousandth time, he read the words again, and he couldn’t stifle the rising dread.

  But, how much longer could he avoid confronting the colossal giant from his past? Or the fear, pain, and emotional suffering that came by doing so?

  He bounded from the bed nude before shrugging on the terry robe. Then, crossing the large bedroom, he journeyed to the sliding glass doors before stepping out onto the terrace. As soon as he stepped outside, the afternoon air greeted him. Taking a minute, he embraced the sweet smelling scent of spring.


  Still, clutching the tiny slip of paper in his hand, he treaded across the tiled floor, and then stopped once reaching the railing. A satisfied sigh left him as he propped against it and stared across the estate. Even from this aerial view, the shimmering Logan Lake was breathtaking.

  For a fleeting moment, he experienced peace, and everything seemed right with the world. Of course, this place was the only one sure thing in his life.

  Cedars Pointe was all his.

  At one point, that almost wasn’t the case.

  When he’d learned that he’d inherited the property a time ago, his initial reaction had been to turn it down flat. Years of pent-up hostility and resentment had nearly caused him to make a poor decision. Thankfully, he hadn’t allowed his anger and raw emotions to take precedence over common sense. For that, he was eternally grateful.

  He stared along the horizon again.

  A feeling of satisfaction ran through him.

  It was home.

  The 100 acres sprawled along the southern coastlines of Hampton Cove, rich and abundantly filled with rolling hills, flat land, and valleys, and finally embraced Logan Lake as its featured water world of wonder. On the estate, the two-story house was akin to a Spanish villa, complete with a red clay tiled roof, stucco walls, grandeur archways, and a courtyard. An outdoor alcove wasn’t too far away, and a kidney-shaped pool was out back.

  Along with the property, he’d acquired a vehicle, a highly customized, iconic black Dodge Viper that had all the makings of a legendary and thrilling ride.

  As he stared down at the paper again, his thoughts dimmed. All of these material possessions came with an emotional price tag.

  Now, he was about to pay up.

  Turning away from the spring afternoon, he strolled across the terrace and entered the bedroom again. After sinking down on the bed, he snatched up the cell phone, and to his shame, his hands shook. “Damn it, get control of yourself,” he ordered, taking in a steadying breath. “It had to happen eventually.”

  Before his riddled nerves could stop him, he punched the numbers in before bringing the phone to his ear.