Timeless

by Brynley Bush

  When I wake up again, the bed is empty. I get up, use the restroom, slip on Marcus’ shirt, and walk out into the empty living area of the cabin. There’s a pot of coffee, but no sign of Marcus. I finally see him through the front window outside chopping wood. I take a minute to admire the ripple of muscles beneath the flannel shirt he’s wearing as he raises the ax over his head and brings it down effortlessly onto the wood, cleanly splitting it in two. I can’t help but smile; he’s attacking the wood like it’s a terrorist.

  I pour a cup of coffee and take it with me outside onto the front porch. I lean against the wood column and take a sip, waiting for him to notice me. He looks up immediately, his eyes traveling up my bare legs, widening at the sight of the hard points of my nipples beneath the fabric of his shirt from the cold before finally resting on my face. A hundred emotions flicker in his expressive brown eyes before they become shuttered.

  “Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll drive you back to Five Pines,” he says, turning back to chopping wood.

  Stunned, and feeling slightly used and more than a little hurt, I turn and go back inside the cabin. I had no delusions about there being anything between us beyond this weekend, but a fucking good morning would have been nice.

  I call the lodge and ask for Gavin, who assures me he’ll send the resort’s shuttle to pick me up as soon as possible, and then I quickly get dressed in the clothes I arrived in, although I still haven’t found my thong. Marcus is still outside chopping wood, and I watch him from the front window until I see a dark green sport utility come up the now-cleared mountain road.

  Marcus looks up as the car pulls into the driveway and I step outside. His gaze swivels to me, and there’s a flat look in his eyes.

  “I don’t need a ride. I called the shuttle,” I explain unnecessarily.

  He tosses the ax down and closes the distance between us in three easy strides. He cups my chin in his hand and for a minute I think…I desperately hope…he’s going to kiss me, or say he’ll miss me or he can’t live without me, but instead he just says softly, “Take care, Ari,” and then turns back to chopping wood.

  Fighting back tears, I climb into the sport utility and close the door.

  “Hey, girl, everything ok?”

  To my surprise, Gavin’s behind the wheel, and I’m so happy to see a friendly face I could kiss him. “Sure,” I say softly.

  “The shuttle had already left to take a few guests to the airport, so I thought I’d just come get you myself. You sounded a bit desperate.”

  I nod, offering no explanation. There isn’t one. Even though I went into this weekend with my eyes wide open, I was a fool for opening my heart and giving Marcus the power to hurt me again.

  “Let’s go,” I say, careful not to look back as we pull onto the road and drive away from the only man I’ve ever loved. I know better than to ever look back again.

  The drive back to the resort takes less than fifteen minutes, and Gavin parks the car and turns to me. “It’s a bummer you missed the fun yesterday, although maybe you had an even better time snowed in with Mr. Hunky Navy SEAL Lawyer.” He waggles his eyebrows at me comically and I laugh, but then somehow I’m crying, great heaving sobs that startle me almost as much as Gavin. He recovers quickly though, unbuckling his seatbelt to lean over and pat me comfortingly.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Just get it all out and then tell Gavin what happened. I’ll go kick his ass for you.”

  I can’t help but giggle at the idea of the gorgeous but delicate Gavin taking on Marcus, with his muscular, former-Navy-SEAL, hard body.

  “What?” he says with mock indignation. “I may be small, but I’m wiry!”

  He hands me a tissue and I blow my nose. “Thanks, Gavin. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened there.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks kindly.

  “There’s nothing to say really. Things didn’t work out between Marcus and me ten years ago, and they can’t now. He was completely upfront about that from the beginning. I…I thought I was fine with it, but I guess my heart wasn’t.”

  Gavin shakes his head. “Men are bastards. Present company excluded, of course. And he’s a particularly stupid one to walk away from a woman like you when he’s clearly fifty ways of fucked when it comes to you!” He looks at me thoughtfully. “I don’t know what’s up with Marcus. Dominic and I met him a little over a year ago when he was advising on a case that basically saved not only my life but my relationship with Dominic as well, and I think the world of him. He’s been to Dominic’s club a few times when he’s been in Houston and I have to say, women clamor to be with him, but he’s very careful to remain emotionally detached from the girls he plays with.

  “But I can tell you this. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way I saw him look at you the other night—like he wants to devour you.” He shudders deliciously. “Oooh. It just gives me goosebumps.”

  I sigh. “This whole weekend has been a bust. I came here to see if the things I’ve read about would turn me on in real life, and if I could find a man with a little bit of throw down who could make me actually feel something. Instead I got totally fucked over, in more ways than one.”

  Tori had been right to worry about my heart after all.

  “Forget about Marcus Dunn,” Gavin says resolutely. “There’s still one more party this evening at the resort. You should come.” He smiles as me mischievously. “Hair of the dog, you know.”

  I give him a watery smile. “You’re right. I shouldn’t let Marcus completely ruin my weekend. My flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.”

  “Thatta girl,” he says, opening the car door. He gives me a once over. “But girlfriend, that pirate look is so Friday night.”

  I laugh as we walk into the lodge.

  I spend the afternoon pampering myself. I take a long, hot bath, order room service, and get ready for the evening farewell party. By the time I walk into the great room at the lodge, I’ve forgotten all about Marcus Dunn.

  It doesn’t take long for Michael to find me. He’s with another Dom, a tall, dark handsome one with powerful forearms and a tattoo on his right bicep. “Hey, Ari! It’s great to see you. This is my friend Tyler.”

  Damn. Tyler is one fine-looking male specimen, and exactly my type. I introduce myself and lower my eyes flirtatiously.

  “Where have you been?” Michael asks curiously. “I was looking for you yesterday, but I didn’t see you or the Dom you were with on Friday.” His tone is casual, but I can tell he’s fishing for whether or not I’m together with Marcus.

  “Oh, Marcus? He’s just an old friend,” I say casually. “Old being the operative word.”

  It’s a mean thing to say, and if he were here, he’d have me over his knee before I knew what had happened, showing me exactly how irrelevant his age is.

  But he’s not here, and he doesn’t want me. However, this gorgeous blond in front of me does, and judging by the way his friend Tyler is looking at me, so does he. There’s no reason I shouldn’t enjoy myself with one, or hell, both of them!

  “I was stranded at his cabin during the snowstorm yesterday. But there’s nothing between us,” I assure Michael. “I’m glad I was able to make it to the last event.”

  “I’m glad you did too,” Tyler adds. “Otherwise, I might not have met you.” The smile he gives me is slow and sexy, and it should totally make my stomach flutter, but I feel nothing.

  Michael runs a finger down my jaw. “Do you want to continue where we left off on Friday? I’d love to spank you again. I was just telling Tyler what a sweet and spankable ass you have.”

  I shift uncomfortably. My ass is still deliciously sore from yesterday, a very real and concrete reminder of Marcus.

  “Uh, maybe something else…” I say, stalling.

  “I’d love to flog your breasts,” Tyler says softly, his eyes heated.

  “I, um, okay,” I say. After all, this is what I came for. The hair of the dog, as Gavin said. What be
tter way to eradicate Marcus’ touch than with the touch of another man? Or men!

  “Let’s find an open cross,” Michael says. I follow him over to a large wooden St. Andrews cross with Tyler right behind me, his hand firmly pressed against the small of my back, guiding me.

  “I want to restrain you here so you’re completely unable to move and completely exposed to the caress of the flogger,” Tyler murmurs, his voice throaty.

  “Okay. Sure.” I realize belatedly that I should sound a little more enthusiastic. I try again. “Mmmmm. I’d love that.”

  It sounds completely fake to me, but neither Michael nor Tyler seem to notice. Tyler smiles and slowly begins to undress me, slipping off the tight-fitting black dress I’m wearing and then slowly unhooking my bra and handing it to Michael, his gaze hungry as my nipples harden under his appreciative stare. At least my girls are in the game, even if my head’s not! What the hell is wrong with me? I have not one but two gorgeous men ready to cater to my darkest fantasies and my mind keeps wandering.

  Michael steps forward, pushing me back gently until I bump into the smooth, wooden surface of the massive cross. He takes my right hand and kisses the palm of it before lifting it over my head and securing it to the cross. At the same time, Tyler starts kissing my left shoulder, nibbling his way down my arm before cuffing my left wrist onto the opposite side of the cross. As both men bend down to buckle my ankles to the cross, I stand motionless, wondering what Marcus is doing. Is he still chopping wood, or is he in the shower washing the last traces of me from his skin?

  “Baby, we’re going to make you feel so good.”

  Michael’s softly crooned words draw me back to the present. His hands are on my breasts, teasing and rolling the nipples between his forefinger and thumb, but it’s like I’m watching from a distance. I feel absolutely nothing. Tyler turns and picks up the flogger and I let my head roll back, closing my eyes as the soft leather strands lick against my skin, desperate to give myself over to the sensation. I imagine it’s Marcus standing in front of me, all dominant swagger and hard eyes, determined to make me beg. I feel a trickle down my thighs as I hear his voice in my head, telling me in no uncertain terms who my body belongs to and exactly what he intends to do with it.

  Another flogger joins the first, and I realize both Tyler and Michael each have one, and they are taking turns lashing my torso and breasts, my upper thighs and my sex, stopping occasionally to play with my breasts. I’m so lost in my thoughts about Marcus that it takes me a minute to realize they’ve stopped.

  Michael’s voice breaks my reverie. “Are you okay?”

  “Well, I haven’t used my safe word yet, have I?” I snap.

  His eyes narrow slightly but he doesn’t say anything, and I can’t help but compare him to Marcus, who wouldn’t have tolerated me snapping at him like that. I realize I like the way he holds me accountable, forcing me to acknowledge what I’m really feeling to both him and myself. I also realize Michael can never be what I need him to be.

  He must realize it too, because he wordlessly sets his flogger down and says something to Tyler before approaching me.

  “Ari, you’re a beautiful woman and I find you incredibly attractive, but I won’t compete with another Dom, even one who’s not here. Do you want to stay and play with Tyler?”

  “Um, of course,” I manage.

  Michael nods. “Maybe he’ll have better luck. Come by Dominic’s club in Houston sometime if things don’t work out with the other guy. I’m there most Saturday nights.”

  I nod, mentally kicking myself for losing my chance with such a good-looking guy who could be perfect for me, and who’s obviously also a fairly decent human being. Unlike the bastard who effortlessly convinced me to do wicked and depraved things with him all weekend—even made me beg for some of them—and then basically kicked me out with barely a goodbye.

  Tyler steps into my field of vision. “Do you want to continue?”

  I nod.

  One calloused finger under my chin tilts my gaze up to his. “Are you sure?”

  His kind but penetrating gaze is my undoing, and to my horror, I feel my eyes fill with tears. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “I’m sorry,” I begin, but he holds his hand up, stopping me.

  “No apologies necessary, pet,” he says, unbuckling me from the cross. “But I think it’s best we save this for another time when you’re sure about what you want.”

  I nod miserably and hastily slip back into my dress as he stops a passing waitress, asking her for a pen. He takes my hand and holding it in his, scrawls a number across my open palm. “Here’s my number if you ever want to pick up where we left off.”

  Then he’s gone, no doubt off to find someone else more interested in playing with him. I groan. What the hell is wrong with me? This is the final party of the weekend—some sort of Great Gatsby-themed murder mystery—and my last chance to find someone besides Marcus Dunn who can ignite the passion in me. Maybe a little alcohol will help me relax and get back into the groove of things.

  I go the bar and order a glass of red wine.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Dominic’s cultured voice at my ear has me turning around and smiling back at him.

  “Yes. The time I’ve been able to spend here has been amazing. You’ve done an incredible job putting all of this together. It’s been beyond my expectations. I just wish I hadn’t missed everything yesterday.”

  “There’s still time,” he says kindly. “Is Marcus joining us this evening?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I say frostily. At Dominic’s quiet but piercing stare, I add miserably, “No. I don’t think so. He has no desire to continue anything with me. And I definitely don’t want to spend any more time with him.”

  A faint smile plays at Dominic’s lips. He pulls a card out of his pocket and hands it to me. I look down and read the name of Marcus’ law firm printed in black letters. I flip it over and see a telephone number scrawled across the back.

  “I think you might be surprised what Marcus actually wants. That’s his cell number. You should call him if you change your mind.”

  “Oh, I definitely won’t,” I assure him, trying to hand the card back.

  He folds my fingers over it. “Keep it, Ariana. Who knows? If nothing else, maybe it will come in handy someday if you ever need an attorney.”

  “The only attorney I’ll need is one to defend me for the things I want to do to him,” I mutter darkly, but I tuck the card into my bra anyway.

  “Hello, darling. Who’s your charming friend?”

  I look up to see a beautiful blond outfitted in black leather and tall stiletto boots eyeing me up and down. She looks vaguely familiar.

  “I’m Ari. Did we meet Friday?”

  “My apologies,” Dominic says smoothly. “This is Bridget. Or Mistress Bridget, I should say. She arrived yesterday right before the storm shut everything down.”

  I’ll be damned! That’s why she looks so familiar. This is Marcus’ Bridget, the jeweler who was attacked and beat up and then filed an insurance claim for a cool two million. The dominatrix look threw me a bit, but now I can see the resemblance to the picture in Marcus’ file. Even though I know I have no obligation to Marcus, the FBI agent in me can’t turn her back on a little investigating.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I say with a smile. “I missed out on most of the activities yesterday. I was especially sorry to miss the flogging demonstration.”

  “It was fabulous,” she says enthusiastically. Dominic excuses himself as she continues. “I was just going to practice a little bit of what I learned. Would you like to see? I’m assuming you are more interested in being demonstrated on than wielding the flogger?” She arches one perfect eyebrow at me.

  Oh god. I don’t even have to fake the innocent and nervous ingénue act. I have never played with another woman, and the thought is nerve-wracking. But not nerve-wracking enough for me to turn my back on the chance to talk to her and try to get some informat
ion.

  “Um, sure,” I say hesitantly.

  “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t bite,” she says with a throaty laugh.

  We make small talk as we walk through the great room, stopping for her to choose a big heavy flogger with thick, wide falls. I innocently ask her what she does for a living and she candidly tells me she’s in jewelry sales. We laugh about the job perks of being a woman in the jewelry business, and then I ask her how she knew about the retreat. I’ve been an agent long enough to know that coincidences are rare. If I had to guess, I’d say she followed Marcus and was hoping to run into him here, possibly using his participation as a way to blackmail him into backing off of his investigation. I find it interesting that she chose to masquerade as a Domme instead of a submissive.

  As she instructs me to lean over the padded bench we have stopped next to, I find myself hoping she’s actually dominant enough to wield a flogger properly, because my ass is already sore. Damn Marcus for making it sore in the first place and for me willingly subjecting it to more abuse because of him. But I do it anyway.

  I hesitantly lean over the padded bench so that my torso rests on it. Soft slender hands pull my short dress up over my hips, exposing my ass in the thong I’m wearing. It feels totally wrong, and I realize what a difference a rough and commanding masculine hand makes!

  I can feel the presence of another person behind me joining us, but I can’t see them without turning around. I try to look, but strong male hands seize mine, pinning them behind me at the small of my back. I feel the beginnings of panic flutter in my chest, and I remind myself that not only am I a skilled FBI agent, but I’m also in a crowded room with Dominic and a bunch of other people nearby who will rescue me in a moment if I use the club safe word. Still, there’s something about the situation that has me wishing I’d had a place to tuck my gun when I came downstairs.

  “This is Justin. He’s going to make sure you don’t go anywhere,” Bridget says silkily. “Just relax.”