by Mahi Mistry
I held her wrist, leaning closer to her and whispered in her ear, “Slide your hand anymore further and I will make sure that your ass is bruised with my belt marks till next week.”
Pulling away, I flashed her a small smile, watching her gape at me. She clearly didn’t expect that and moved her hand on her lap when I let it go.
After the dessert was served, I looked at the chocolate mousse and felt bile rising in my mouth. I quickly excused myself to the washroom and splashed some cold water on my face. It is nothing, Ethan. Just calm down. Count to ten. I wiped my face and stared at the blue-green eyes across me.
The door of the washroom opened, and I closed my eyes when it was the same lady who had sat beside me during the meal. Chris Moore’s wife, Sadie Moore. I clenched my jaw when she trailed her hand on my arm, but I still felt her touch through my suit. I straightened up, easily towering in front of her, and she dropped her hand.
“I . . . I would like that,” she whispered, her eyes wide with lust.
I tilted my head.
“I want you to do that, Ethan. I have heard rumors about—”
Waving her off, I said, “Not tonight. Go find someone else.” My eyes raked over her curvy frame and met hers. I smirked, “You wouldn’t be able to handle it, anyway. Goodnight, Mrs. Moore. Tell your husband I said hello.”
Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment as I left her alone in the washroom. I checked my phone, seeing three missed calls from Aretta and one from my mom. After letting my agent know I was leaving, I made my way out of the hotel and breathed in the warm crisp air of Los Angeles. The atmosphere was dark with few glowing lights decorated along the porch of the hotel. I wondered whether I should pack my bags to go back to San Diego, visit my family, or go visit Aretta. I looked up at the night sky and waited for my driver.
I frowned, hearing a commotion over my shoulder. My mouth set in a grim line when I saw who it was, Richard Jane. Sliding my hands in my slacks, I turned toward them and saw that the hotel security was far away from the reporter, his cameraman, and the model they wanted to interview. I was about to turn away, thinking it was an everyday thing when I heard her words.
“Please move away,” her voice was stern. Her heels clicked against the cobblestone when she took a step back as he got too close to her.
My jaw clenched and palms turned into fists when the cameraman zoomed in on her face. But I had my doubts that he was zooming in on something else.
Richard’s voice was low and heavy, his face wrinkled with age as he was nearing his fifties. Still the best Hollywood reporter out there. He leaned in and asked, “Just answer one question, Ma’am. Did you or did you not frame the nip slip at Coachella?”
I rolled my eyes. Are you fucking kidding me?
She flinched away, giving him a disgusting look. “I am not going to answer that, and it’s none of your fucking business.” Her hands were on his chest, trying to get away from him, “Seriously, move the fuck away.”
Images flashed in my mind. Her wavy brown hair mussed, puffy eyes stained with tears, lips quivering and her hands in fists. Just because of men like him. I swallowed the lump in my throat thinking about that diary page which had blurry words because her tears had smudged the black ink on the paper.
I couldn’t watch this any longer.
“She told you to move, Jane.”
The cameraman turned toward me, so did Richard and Emma. She was an aspiring model, and after working with her on a couple of shoots, I knew how sweet she was. He stepped back from her and flared his angry red nose at me.
“Shove it, Ethan. Is there something going on between you two? It will make a great headline. Ethan Kane strikes another model’s pussy again,” he chuckled, his yellow-stained lower teeth grinning at me.
I didn’t feel like giving him a reply and raised my palm for her. She accepted it with a small smile, and I pulled her closer, away from Richard.
“Let him be, Ethan. He is an asshole,” she whispered when I turned to escort her away from there.
“What did you just say, you bitch?” Richard spat.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of my lips, but Emma yelped when she was pushed down from behind. I helped her up, seeing a slight bruise on her knee. I asked her if she was okay. She was not. She looked like she was about to cry.
I looked at him, anger boiling inside me, and without even thinking, I threw my fist at his nose. He screamed, but I held his collar with my throbbing knuckles and said, “Dare to even think about touching someone like that again and I will break your arm.” I pushed him away, glaring at him when he whimpered, trying to control the bleeding from his cracked nose, “Watch your fucking tongue.”
I helped wide-eyed Emma away from there.
I asked, “You okay?”
She was shaking.
“You didn’t need to punch him. He will press charges against you.”
“I would love to see him try.”
The driver was waiting for me in my Mercedes. I opened the door and said to her, “Get inside. You were clearly waiting for someone to arrive, but I am not letting you wait out here alone. Tell him the address and he will drop you off.”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, “I can’t have that, Ethan. I am really thankful for this, but you don’t have to.”
I gave her a firm look and tilted my head to the open car door, “Get inside the car, Emma. I have to be somewhere else, anyway. You need to get home safe and clean up that cut.”
I was surprised when she leaned up and hugged me. I froze when she whispered, “Thank you, Ethan Kane. You’re not as bad as they told me.”
She gave me a brief smile and sat in the comfortable leather seats. I closed the door for her.
I am as bad as they told you.
Running my hand through my hair, I replied to Aretta’s text and told her what to do. I stared out of the window of the taxi and clenched my palm. It still stung from the punch. I don’t know how I lost my control so easily. It was her. She made me lose my control. Even after six years, she still had that power over me. Just a few little words and I turn into someone I hate.
Closing my eyes, I sighed and leaned back in the seat.
The cabbie glanced at me from his rearview mirror, “What has you sighing like that, young man?”
Someone must have added some kind of truth serum to my food when I told him, “Nothing, just remembered someone harassing my ex-girlfriend and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
What the fuck, Ethan?
He nodded. He looked over fifty, small lines of wrinkles etching his face when he frowned. “Ah, that is a sad thing. If she said that to you, then she must have truly loved you.”
“No, yes, maybe,” I paused. “She left me.”
My heartbeat wildly every time I tried to talk about her. My stomach coiled tightly and a small headache was churning in my head.
The cabbie smiled at me through the rearview mirror, a sad smile. “All troubled women do. Must be hard, but at least you have sweet memories of her.”
I smiled sadly, thinking about those memories. Now tainted with nothing but sadness, regret, and guilt. “A lot, actually. We were best friends.”
“Cherish them, young man, and I hope you will find love again,” his words were sincere when he stopped the car at the hotel. He grinned back at me, “I have to go, my wife’s been waiting for me to eat this mean steak she makes.”
“How long have you been married to her?” I asked, nodding at the sweet picture of them together, probably in their twenties, over the dashboard.
“Thirty years and still counting.”
I smiled at him and paid him with a hefty tip. “Take care and thank you for this.”
I didn’t know why I said that. He didn’t ask what I meant by ‘this’ because my nerves snaked in my body, and as soon as I said it, I left the car. I exhaled sharply and checked the time. Five minutes left.
Telling myself that this was what I needed, I went to the corridor
of the corner room on the eighth floor. It was time. But I waited for two more minutes, just playing with her mind.
I needed this right now. I needed to gain control back. I craved it like a druggie who promised it was his last dose but still went back for more.
Turning the knob, I stepped inside.
Good, she had obeyed to keep it unlocked. I closed the door behind me with a slam and her body gave a small shudder. I smiled and stepped inside the suite, her naked body glinting in the moonlight as she stayed still. Bent over the balcony with her hands holding the railings.
I teased, “Well, look at what we have here.”
Her ass arched up in my direction even though I stayed perfectly still near the door. I wanted her like that. Desperate and needy. Her eyes were blindfolded like I had asked her to do. Keeping the door unlocked, she would think anyone would enter and see her that way, and I wanted her to think like that. Even though I had paid the hotel manager to make sure that the eighth-floor stayed empty and no one stepped in here.
I went to the minibar and poured a glass of scotch. Taking a slow sip, savoring the burning taste on my tongue, I walked toward her. The room was chilly and the air was tinged with her fruity perfume. I stood exactly behind her, watching her chocolaty body quiver with excitement. Her dark curls brushed her lower neck when she arched her body back at me.
Putting the empty glass on the table, I brushed my fingers down her back, goosebumps rising on her skin. I lowered them between her creamy thighs. She let out a small gasp when I rubbed the slickness of her pussy—so wet and ready.
“Sir, please?”
I stopped. “Did I allow you to speak?”
She shook her head, her knees buckling slightly.
Her thighs trembled when I edged her, rubbing her engorged clit and squeezing her ass with my other hand. We both sighed for other reasons when I smacked her ass.
“Spread your legs, Aretta,” I said, “Let me see your dripping cunt, how greedy you are.”
She moaned, her legs spreading wider and my cock pressing tightly against my pants when I saw her bare pussy, dripping with arousal and grinding herself on my fingers.
I pulled my hand away and stepped closer to her. I grabbed her curls and pushed my fingers inside her mouth, making her taste herself. She groaned and sucked them clean when I rubbed my hard length on her through my pants.
I did it again, this time spanking her on her other cheek and rolled her tight nipple with my fingers, which were wet with her saliva. She moaned louder.
I whispered gruffly in her ear, “Did you touch yourself, thinking about me? How I would spank this pussy of yours? Fuck you when you are nothing but a moaning mess?”
Pulling away and letting go of her hair, I smacked her in between her thighs, landing it perfectly on her sensitive clit and her body bucked. If she wasn’t holding onto the railing, she would’ve lost her balance.
“I did, Sir, please, I am so close!” She breathed, pushing herself back, trying to find me and rub herself.
“No. Turn around, you’ve been bad for not following my orders,” I said and held her elbow when she straightened. Her knees were buckling, and I didn’t want her to fall. I removed her blindfold. “I am going to spank your ass. You can use your safe word.”
Her pupils dilated, and she licked her lips, watching me for the first time tonight. Her fingers trailed over my shoulder to the hard planes of my chest. I raised my eyebrow but let her continue. She cupped me through my pants, and I watched her palm stroking me.
“Can I use some other way where you don’t need to punish me?” She whispered, her voice breathy.
I shook my head, “No, you should’ve thought of that before touching yourself. Get on the bed. Face down, ass up.”
She frowned but followed my demand, lying down on the king-size poster bed. I told her to keep her hands above her head while I removed the cuff links and my jacket. Her eyes followed me when I rolled my sleeves above my forearms and unbuckled my belt.
Standing at the edge of the bed, I looked down at her and kissed her back. “I will use my belt, Aretta,” I whispered lightly, noting her reaction.
She trembled, a shaky breath leaving her plum lips, but she didn’t fight.
“Use the safe word,” I reminded her and stepped back, looping the belt in my hands, readying myself.
She smiled back at me, “I won’t.”
I tilted my head, “You will.”
And landed the first smack on her ass.
She gasped, and I only allowed two seconds for her to recover before I set into my rhythm, making sure I never went too close to her sex or strayed far from the soft skin of her ass. It was hurting her, I could see it in her clenched fists, furrowed brows, writhing body and crying moans. But it was also turning her on. Her dark nipples were hard, and her arousal was sliding down her inner thigh when her ass turned into a light hue of red.
I was panting too, waiting for her to say her safe word, my smacks getting harder and rougher. The only sounds in the room were of her cries, my increased breath and the sound of leather smacking sharply against her ass.
“Red, red, red,” she blabbered, her voice thick.
I stopped, dropping the belt, and went toward her, “Told you, you will.”
Gently gathering her in my arms, I let her hide her face in my neck as she cried. I rubbed her back, soothing her, “Shh, stop crying, it’s over now. Close your eyes and feel. Take deep breaths, Aretta. You did so well.”
She nodded because she knew I meant using the safe word, not the spanking. She knew I honored using the safe word more than the punishment.
We both took a shower together. I held her close, fingering her, gazing at her beautiful face when she came apart in my palm. Cleaning both of us, I told her to apply chamomile lotion on her ass. I ignored her sad frown when I got dressed back in my clothes and kissed her on her forehead. I was gathering my wallet, phone and keys when Aretta breathed sharply over my shoulder.
She was checking her phone, sitting naked on the bed.
“What happened?”
She looked up at me and my right hand. “You punched Richard Jane?”
I pursed my lips, “About that.”
Clearing my throat, I blinked back at my agent. That was last night, and my knuckles still throbbed. My only regret was that I wish I had broken his nose.
“So? What do they want me to do? Knowing HR, they’ve already planned something for me. Are they cutting me out?” I asked with a devious grin.
They would be idiots to cut out a pro athlete like me.
Elliot chuckled, “They are not that much of idiots, Kane.”
Knew it.
“So?”
This time, he grinned back at me, “You have to do some volunteering.”
“Volunteering?”
Elliot nodded as if he was talking to his ten-year-old daughter. “Yes, community service to show the media that you are not going off the bat by punching reporters. They need to know that you are still sane.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Daddy.”
“You give me more grey hairs than my daughters,” he muttered and stood up, gathering some papers. “I will talk to HR and you have to decide where you want to work.”
He was about to walk out of his office when he paused, “And, Ethan? You can have that lollipop.”
Fucking scored it.
I gathered all the test papers I had graded last night and organized them according to the students’ names while two pairs of eyes watched me from their tiny desks.
Sighing, I raised my brow at them, “What happened? Why are you two frowning?”
I couldn’t blame them. They were the only kids left in my classroom while others were in the cafeteria, having fun with their friends and eating lunch.
Ben swung his legs, sitting on the desk. It wasn’t allowed, but I didn’t mind. “Do you really have to call in my mom, Miss Kiara?” he asked, his voice small.
I gave him a reassuring smile
and cleaned up the desk. “Yes, Ben, you know the drill. We call in parents when teachers need to talk to parents about some stuff.”
I didn’t need to tell him all the details. He was still a kid. I would talk about it with his parents.
Andrew Wu stopped doodling in his notebook. His light brown eyes, similar to his mom’s, narrowed in confusion. “What will you tell Mom? You talk to her every day.”
I did because he and his mom were my roommates for the past two years. We were more than roommates.
“I do, but this is related to school and Mr. Davis personally asked me to call and talk to them, so I have to.”
I asked if they took the notes of the adverb clause I had taught them today and cleared up the whiteboard. I checked the time and heard the little growls in their stomach.
Walking to my handbag, I pulled out my lunch box and kept it on my empty desk. “Who wants to eat gulab jamuns?”
The legs of the desk squeaked as they shuffled out of it and ran for the sweets covered in sugary syrup. I smiled at them as they fought for the last piece after stuffing it in their mouths like squirrels. It almost reminded me of me and Eth—
My stomach coiled, and the smile wiped off my face. I sat down on the desk and tried to count to ten. He still slipped into my brain. Six years and I still couldn’t forget him. My therapist had told me I never would. Too much had happened in too little time. I could never forget him.
How could I when he was the most important part of my life?
Ben and Andrew were distracted and having their own lunch, talking about a new anime they were watching while I pulled out a small journal and wrote what I felt about thinking about him all of a sudden. I wondered if I should check in with my therapist and sent her a quick text. Her reply came fast as it was lunch hour. She told me not to worry too much. Fragments of memories were inevitable, and I didn’t need to worry about it every time I thought of him.
My stomach clenched with nerves. I knew something was missing. Shaking my head, I decided I would figure it out after school. I needed to be at my best right then.