by Bella Grant
Mateo was a doer. He was fearless, always had been. Ava was a bird with a broken wing, always seeking the shelter of another, and it made her feel pathetic. What’s wrong with me? Why am I so weak? She wanted to be like Mateo, but it went against every instinct. Mateo was a rule-breaker, redefining the system to better his life. Ava wanted to be told what to do, to comply with rules, to adhere to a system someone else had put in place. She needed a keeper to feel safe, and right now, she was entirely alone.
Without him to calm her down, she felt her anxiety reaching critical levels. She should be studying, and after pacing around the room with her textbook for half an hour, rereading the same paragraph half a dozen times, she closed the book and tossed it on the bed. Distraction had won. She grabbed her purse and a sweater, and tucked the binder Carter had given her under her arm, locking the door behind her.
Twilight was settling on the city, and dusk brought a cool edge to the oppressive heat that filled the day. She set out walking, not sure where she could go, and she had already wandered a few blocks before she remembered there was a new display in the conservatory downtown, an enormous greenhouse made of slatted wood with a reflecting pond outside, large and silent, where she could find a quiet nook to tuck herself away.
She ensconced herself on a small bench beneath the wall of orchids that grew beside the small, artificial waterfall. The conservatory was nearly empty, except for a couple of people at the far end, and it was still cloyingly hot inside, the air sweet with the smell of flowers. She didn’t have long to sit there since the building closed at eight, but it was long enough to let the heat and perfumed air sooth her nervous energy. She opened her binder and began reading the materials Carter had entrusted her with.
As she read, she felt as if she was getting to know him. His words, so simple in Times New Roman on the white page, were filled with a visionary optimism that refused to be trapped by print. She wondered if she was reading too much into this, pretending she was excavating his inner self through text she wasn’t even sure he wrote, but he must have. The way he had talked about trying to design a stage for others to live out their fantasies…it was all here in his mission statement. He was a dreamer, a creator, and he wanted life to perform in a certain way.
Once she’d read the manual cover-to-cover and reread the sections on ordering, employee conduct, overtime, and financial reporting, she closed the binder and leaned back against the cool rock slab. Her brow was damp from the humidity inside the building, but it had the relaxing effect of a sauna on her rather than the suffocating feel of her apartment. She glanced at her watch and noticed it was a quarter to eight, close to closing time.
The prospect of going home made her tense, so she wandered downtown, unconsciously tracing a path back to the coffee shop. She was half-surprised when she came upon it, the windows dimly lit from within, the velvet sofas and oriental rugs barely visible through the lush greenery in the windows. It was as if she was looking into a painting or at a stage fully dressed but without actors. Looking within, she understood Carter’s vision. She understood what he was trying to do in life, creating an environment in which a fantasy could exist, a space for beauty in an ordinary life. He was a dreamer who didn’t have a place in the real world, so he made his own.
She felt the urge to be near him. It was a feeling Ava didn’t quite understand, or one she couldn’t justify. Was he becoming her surrogate, a replacement for Mateo? No, she told herself firmly. Whatever she felt for him was very different from what she felt for Mateo, her brother, her closest friend. Carter was magnetic, and she didn’t seek him out for shelter. Rather, she felt drawn to him, a pull she couldn’t deny. There was no way to explain it, and she couldn’t ignore it. The thought of turning away and returning to her apartment felt impossible.
The coffee shop was empty, but Ava saw the light on in Carter’s office, and she thought she saw his dark figure against the balcony inside. She placed the key he had given her in the lock and turned the elaborate brass doorknob. Inside, she heard soft strains of music playing from the phonograph in his office.
Ava locked the door behind her and began to climb the spiral iron staircase to the second-story balcony. It occurred to her briefly that she should call out and say hello, but she didn’t know what to say or how she could explain why she was there, so she kept climbing silently, letting herself be pulled towards him.
When she reached the landing, she cleared her throat and said softly, “Carter? Hello?” She heard a rustling in his office, and a moment later, Carter stepped out and stood immediately in front of her on the narrow balcony above the café parlor.
“Ava?” Carter asked, obviously confused. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, beginning to feel embarrassed for being there with no viable explanation. “I wanted to… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here,” she said suddenly and began to turn back toward the spiral staircase, feeling like a complete fool.
“Wait,” Carter said, and Ava felt him pull her hand back towards him. “Don’t leave.” His words were a request that sounded like a command, and the directive made Ava feel safe. She wanted to be told what to do, to not have to think for a moment, not have to worry about where to be and how to be. She did as he instructed and turned toward him but was unable to raise her face to his, too embarrassed to look at him and see what he must think of her.
She studied the mahogany wood of the coffee bar intently, tracing the scrolls and banisters. It looked like an old bank teller counter, and the vintage brass cash register glinted in the dim lights of the Edison bulbs. The barstools were red velvet, with a brass footrest running the length of the bar. Ava had never seen a more beautiful room in her life, and she was filled with awe at the space he had dreamed up, a space people desperately needed without knowing it, and he gave it to them.
“Ava, look at me,” Carter said quietly, his words a soft command. She felt her face turn upwards, but it wasn’t until he squeezed her hand that she could bring her eyes to meet his. Her heart pounded in her throat, and she wasn’t sure what she was doing or what she wanted. Her body felt disconnected, and Ava was overcome with feelings she didn’t know how to identify. Her stomach felt tight, as if it were twisted around one central point, and her breath grew shallow in her chest.
Carter’s sights were fixed on her face, studying her intently. Ava’s skin burned, as if his eyes left scorched tracks across her face, but she held his gaze, unable or unwilling to break free. It was as if he controlled her, and she had never felt so powerless or so secure as she did in that moment. She feared everything and nothing, and gave her free will to him. Now, she had to trust him with it. She had never felt so liberated.
“Did you lock the door?” Carter asked, his voice flat. Ava nodded, her body paralyzed by his gaze. “Why did you come here?” he asked quietly, his voice hard but not cold, and Ava knew he was seeking answers to questions he had not asked. In his words, she heard him asking, is this what you want?
“I didn’t want to go home,” she replied honestly, her voice barely a whisper.
“Why?” he asked, searching her face intently.
“I thought I was going to have a panic attack,” Ava admitted.
“And why did you come here?” he pressed, unsatisfied. “You knew the café was closed.”
“It felt safe,” Ava said, the words lingering in the air between them. She looked at him intently for a few seconds and watched his face respond in a way she didn’t understand, as if some intense emotion had flared up within him. After a moment, she added, “You make me feel safe.”
“Turn around,” Carter said, his voice stern but not unkind. He released Ava’s hand, and she felt a cool tingle where his fingers had been, the absence of his warmth. She did as she was told without hesitation.
Chapter 6
Carter
Carter’s heart raced in his chest. The strangeness of her presence was exhilarating. What is she doing here? Don
’t do anything stupid, he cautioned himself. He couldn’t fight the building arousal, and he tried not to fixate on the soft curves of her body beneath the thin, black fabric of the sundress, or the seductive ripple of her shoulder muscles on either side of the thin straps that crisscrossed down her back. Her hair was tied up with a velvet ribbon, and Carter felt his cock twitch as he took in the graceful curve of her neck and the fine hairs that curled around her shoulders.
“Place your hands on the railing,” he instructed, warring with himself as the words left his mouth. What the fuck are you thinking?! His brain raged against him, pointing out the danger of the moment. He was alone in the building with a beautiful, damaged, young woman who he absolutely should not take advantage of. Yet, the energy between them was electric. She was not a victim, and he was not a victimizer. Despite the appearance of the moment, she wanted this. She was here of her own volition, and he had not instigated anything.
You’re not thinking clearly, he told himself. You just need to come and it’s clouding your brain. You’re being a fucking idiot! He knew he balanced on a very thin rope, but each move he made felt secure. “You make me feel safe,” she had whispered, and her words made his cock ache.
Carter hadn’t known what was missing from his life until that moment, as he stood behind this beautiful girl who trusted him implicitly without any logical reason to, a girl who relinquished control to him, asking him to take it. She didn’t say it. She didn’t need to. It was clearly evident on her face, and Carter knew what she wanted.
Still, this was how people lost their companies. He hadn’t done anything wrong yet, and although his body ached for the touch of her and his hand still burned from the warmth of her palm against his, he knew he needed consent.
“Ava, I’m your boss,” he said reluctantly, her back still turned to him. “And that puts me in a precarious situation here. Is this what you want?” Ava nodded, and Carter watched her silky curls bounce against her neck. “You shouldn’t be here.” He sighed, thinking aloud. She froze, and he watched her body stiffen and her hands clutch the railing almost defiantly. She said nothing.
Carter couldn’t resist reaching out and running his fingers through the soft, chestnut curls that cascaded down her neck. He pulled on the velvet ribbon until it came loose in his hand, and he ran his fingers through her thick locks. He stepped forward and ran his hand from the nape of her neck down the curve of her spine to the small of her back.
Ava’s body shivered at the touch of his fingertips, and he thought about his fantasy from earlier in the afternoon, the mental image he had created of her pressed against his deck, her skirt pulled up, his cock buried deep inside her as she let out tortured cries of ecstasy. He fought the urge to reach for the hem of her skirt.
As her body shivered, he felt her begin to turn towards him. His mouth twitched into a frown, and he placed his hands on her hips, squaring them against the railing. “No,” he said quietly. His voice was hard but not unkind. She needed to learn to follow directions.
Carter pressed his body against hers, and the heat of her skin radiated against his. He began to lift his hand and stopped, whispering in her ear, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
Ava was silent, and Carter’s heart squeezed tight, his cock uncomfortably straining against his pants. He lifted his hands again, moving them from her hips to the hard, flat line of her stomach, tracing them up her abdomen to her ribs. His palms cupped the soft curves of her breasts, covering them with his large hands. He held them firmly as he leaned forward, nuzzling his face into the fine, soft hairs at the base of her neck.
Ava let out a little sigh that made Carter’s cock twitch, and his stomach felt as if he’d been on a roller coaster. He pressed himself closer to her body, his erection pressing against her ass, his hands caressing her breasts as his lips grazed her neck. Her body was still tense, which disappointed him. He needed her to submit. He needed her to give herself over entirely in order to make the moment authentic, to let his fantasy exist in reality. He needed her to embrace her part, become the woman he needed her to be in the space he had designed to feel at home in the world. He needed her to bend to his will to be fully satisfied.
He removed one hand from her breast and coiled her hair around his fingers, pulling back ever so slightly, applying tension without pain. Carter wasn’t into hurting women for sexual release. He was much more attracted to a mental submission than a physical one. He wanted to feel as if the woman he was with had given herself over to him wholly, unrestrained. He needed the intimacy of trust—her trust in him to keep her safe, to satisfy her, to use her in a way that benefited them both. Ava was not there yet.
He pulled a little harder on her hair and reached his hand inside her dress to feel the warm, satin skin of her breast. He found her nipple erect under her lace bra, and as he hovered his lips against her neck, he rolled the pointed flesh of her nipple between his fingers. Ava inhaled a startled gasp, her body pressing against his in response.
As Carter held her, Ava tilted her head to the side, exposing the long, graceful curve of her neck, relaxing her body into his hands. Carter felt his heart swell in his chest at the generous act of trust she had given him. She had offered herself to him. She had submitted without being asked or told. Her body had instinctually complied with his unspoken commands, and Carter knew she was the woman he wanted. He felt the breath catch in his throat as he kissed her shoulder, his lips pressing hard against her warm skin.
Carter placed his hands on her hips and turned her body towards his. He rotated her to face him, her body soft and compliant, and she stood before him, her head held high but her eyes lowered to the floor. Carter wanted desperately to see them, to connect with them, to open a channel of energy from his soul to hers. He placed his fingers beneath her chin and pressed upward. “Look at me,” he whispered.
Ava complied instinctively, raising her gaze to meet his without hesitation. Carter searched them hungrily, looking for any sign of doubt or resistance. He found in them a trust, an obedience, a willingness to be guided, to follow his commands, and to submit to him entirely. There was no sign of doubt. Her pupils were large and curious—almost afraid, but not of him. She was afraid of life, her own body, and the world surrounding her. She was terrified of being alone, without anyone to care for her. He saw a deep need to be loved and cared for, a need that had never been satisfied in her life. Carter saw in her a determination to face her fears with his hand guiding her. She was his now, whether she fully understood it or not.
Chapter 7
Ava
Ava’s body felt as if she’d been hypnotized. She knew she should be wary, but every muscle in her had relaxed beneath Carter’s touch, and the warmth between her legs tingled in ways she could not ignore. Carter was the first man she had ever felt sexually attracted to, the first man she had ever willingly let touch her breasts, although more than one creepy old man she’d encountered in the foster system had tried. She had started to think she would never be attracted to anyone, too scared in her youth to enjoy sex or fall in love.
Carter challenged those fears in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend. He asked for her consent, and she gave it, knowing she needed him to take control of her, hold her steady, and make her world feel solid. She’d sought him out in desperation, and he knew what she needed, what she wanted, what she could never ask for. Someone to care for her.
As Ava looked into Carter’s face, she saw an intensity that made her feel weak and vulnerable, and the feeling aroused her. There was a mutual understanding that she had relinquished her autonomy and he was in control, and the energy it created between them made her feel breathless and hot.
Before her rational brain had a chance to argue with her gut instinct that this was what she wanted—to be obediently his—Carter held her chin in his hand and leaned down to kiss her. His other hand was on the small of her back, pulling her close to him, and as his lips moved hungrily against hers, his tongue pressing into her mouth, the tas
te of his mint tea filled her senses. Ava’s legs began to buckle and fought to regain control of her limbs. She felt Carter hold her up as she slipped into his arms, his tall, muscular body supporting hers as he continued to kiss her.
Carter pressed her up to the railing, holding her body tight against his, her neck craned back in a desperate kiss, and Ava felt his erection twitch against the crook of her thigh. Her eyes flew open and she pulled away, her body instantly regaining its animation. She wanted him. She felt the hot, silken wetness in her panties and the sensitivity of her nipples, every nerve ending in her lips responding to his. But she wasn’t ready for this. She was moving too fast.
She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed away from him. Carter pulled back immediately, his face concerned. Ava’s heart beat hard and fast, gratitude flooding through her to be proven correct in trusting him, for he was not taking more than she was willing to give.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, glancing at the floor. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”
Before Carter could respond, Ava hurried down the spiral iron staircase and ran to the front door. As she unbolted it from inside, she turned and looked up at Carter, who stood motionless, his hand on the railing, watching her. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face. Her face crumpled involuntarily, her heart filled with a mixture of sorrow and regret and fear—not of him but of life and sex—and she hoped he could tell by her face that she was sorry.