BLIND: A Mastermind Novel

by Lydia Michaels

  Unsure how much more pleasure she could take, she whimpered. His hair tickled her thighs as he scooted between her legs, his shoulders wedging into the slight space. Her legs could no longer remain stiff. Her knees lightly collapsed over his broad sides.

  The first touch of his soft tongue had her gasping, but he was extremely tender in his ministrations. He sipped from her, worshipped her, his touch so delicate and loving she drifted into some unvisited corner of her mind where everything was soft and quiet.

  Her mind traveled outside of herself, untethered on some dreamy plane where only they existed. Drawing back slowly, the mattress dipped as he stood. His arms slipped beneath her knees and shoulders and she was cocooned in warmth. He held her on his lap, balancing her cheek carefully against his chest.

  His shirt was gone and she wished she had the mental awareness to appreciate the warmth of his bare skin pressing against hers. She was physically depleted, yet more satisfied than she’d ever been in her entire life.

  “Take a sip of water, Scarlet.” A glass pressed to her lips and she drank slowly.

  Where he’d taken her, time no longer existed. He held her for what seemed like days, long bouts of uninterrupted rest having the effect of extensive restful nights.

  When he laid her on the bed again, she was on her front, her upper arms forming a pillow for her face. The covers had cooled and she sighed into the softness of the mattress. He lifted her hair, gathering it beneath the tie of the blindfold and twisting it over her shoulder. His mouth kissed down her spine, bringing her slowly back to reality.

  He moved and the bed shifted. His lips tickled the curve of her behind, tracing a path for shivers to follow. His palms pressed into her shoulders. His hands were warm and slick with oil. Strong fingers massaged her tired muscles, revitalizing her bones as her mind was drawn back to the present. Curiosity gave way to new desire as his hands worked lower down her spine.

  He cupped her behind, kissing each rounded cheek as he continued kneading. His thumbs pulled at her fleshy bottom, exposing parts of her she’d never shared. Sliding his palm lower, he hooked his finger into her sex, slick with new desire. “Your responsiveness to my touch is amazing.”

  She was thinking the same thing. No one else could draw out such physical reactions so unfailingly. Until him, she hadn’t known her body could respond in such a way.

  His mouth pressed into the curve of her ass as he pulled her cheeks apart again. She should be mortified that he was inspecting her so closely, examining her body so intimately, but she wasn’t. Her bottom pulsed as he continued to hold her open, his fascination with her body’s response evident in the excited way he exhaled.

  “Your come’s on my pants, on the sheets, my fingers. You’re everywhere. I can still taste you on my lips; scent you on my skin and in the air. There’s never been anything more magnificent.”

  He gently released her bottom and came to rest beside her, his fingers lightly playing with her hair. It was as if he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He stayed.

  An intangible scar inside of her slowly began to heal as he held her. He stayed. Unlike others had done, he would not leave her side after such an intimate experience. His presence touched her deeply.

  As he continued to run his fingers through her hair she made a soft sound of pleasure.

  “Are you awake?”

  Twisting, she pressed her face to his throat and breathed him in.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Incredible.”

  He was quiet, seemingly in a contemplative mood. “We have one night left, Scarlet.”

  Her heart stuttered, wavering between trepidation and relief. So many questions ran through her head. Would he reveal himself from the start or give her the blindfold and then remove it when it was time? Would he finally share his name? Would they make love and plans for the future? She wanted all the answers, but at the same time, after making it this far without knowing, she wanted to experience the moment without spoilers.

  Rather than ask for clues regarding his intentions that likely wouldn’t come, she asked, “When?”

  “I think we both need time to reflect. Fourteen nights.”

  Her face lowered. He couldn’t mean starting all over again. Before she could ask for clarification, he explained.

  “We’ll take two weeks, fourteen consecutive days, to process the journey we shared and what expectations we developed along the way. On the fourteenth night I’ll send for you. Should you decide to end our association, I’ll understand. The choice will be yours, Ms. Farrow.”

  She recognized his words as the parting line from every note he’d ever sent, only this time there was no mention of blindfolds or terms, only choice.

  “I’ll be there,” she promised.

  He let out a long breath. “Either way, I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Despair

  Asher entered the Café near Scarlet’s home. Being that it was the eve of their meeting, he wanted to pick up a bag of her favorite coffee. White Biscotti. His hope being that she would be spending tomorrow night with him if all went well.

  As he waited in line, he thought about all his careful preparations. They’d have dinner, discuss her reflections over the past fourteen days, and then…he’d remove the blindfold. What happened after that depended on her, but he hoped she’d join him, returning to his primary home where they could officially begin their relationship.

  Stepping to the counter, he waited as the new server bent over the register, struggling to get the screen to clear. When the clerk looked up, everything in Asher froze as stark panic snaked deep in his gut, coiling around his lungs, choking him.

  Westerman.

  The man glared, a cocky arch to his brow. “You gonna order or what?”

  Breathing jaggedly, Asher stared at the tyrant. Westerman’s body was no longer the hard build of a high school linebacker. Flab hung over his belt. His complexion was ruddy, vouching for rough living or perhaps too much indulgence. Memories of his uncountable cruelties came flooding to the forefront of Asher’s mind like a tsunami, knocking out all other thoughts.

  “Dude, you gonna order or just stand there?”

  Chest heaving, he said, “Sorry.” His throat was bone dry so he swallowed. “I’ll take a pound of your white biscotti.”

  Rolling his eyes, Bobby Westerman turned and filled the bag with grounds, the grinder buzzing loud. He tossed the clipped bag on the counter. “Seven ninety-five.”

  Asher’s fingers gripped his credit card, but he hesitated. Placing the card with his identity emblazoned on the plastic back in his pocket, he withdrew a ten. Westerman made change and handed two ones and a nickel back. “Next.”

  Taking a retreating step out of the way so the next customer could order, he sidled over to the condiment station. Retrieving a small cup, he blindly filled it with sugars and creamers as he watched his nemesis serve coffee to strangers. It should have brought him some measure of triumph, knowing this was where the animal ended up, at a job he clearly detested, but it didn’t.

  The only thing Asher processed was familiar, cold-blooded terror. As the line snaked to the counter, he observed silently, noting the way Bobby’s hair had thinned, trying to find some measure of joy from his downtrodden appearance, but he couldn’t.

  Why were people cruel for no reason? Blinking, his mind was assaulted with memories. There were so many harsh moments of brutal humiliation, he wished he had the balls to say something, but was frozen with fear. Then he thought about Scarlet, remembered how broken she sounded the night she confessed the way Bobby treated her. When he’d asked if it got better with time, she’d said no, that sometimes it got worse.

  His hand fisted over the grounds as his jaw clenched. Why she ever dated someone like that would forever be a mystery. She could have had anyone, yet she’d settled for the worst person of all.

  Cold rage settled over him. Everything inside of him wanted to march back to the counter and rip
his throat out. Hit him until he begged and tell him that was everything he deserved for mistreating her. How dare he—

  “May I have a medium white biscotti with cream and sugar?”

  Asher’s attention snapped to the person ordering and he nearly stumbled into the group of people crowding him at the condiment station. Creeping back toward the booth at the window, he dropped into the seat, eyes wide, as Scarlet waited for her coffee.

  “Hey, I know you,” Westerman said.

  You better fucking know her, you piece of shit. You stole her virginity. Asher’s teeth clenched as he willed the other man to stop looking at his woman.

  “Lettie, right?”

  Her face was turned so he couldn’t read her expression. “Bobby? Bobby Westerman?” Why did she sound so pleased?

  “Well, I go by Rob now. How you been?”

  “I’ve been…great actually.”

  “You look incredible.”

  Asher’s fist slowly crushed the cup in his hand.

  “When, um, when did you start working here?” she asked.

  Westerman shrugged it off. “Oh, this is just a temporary thing. I’m switching jobs and the guy I’m replacing doesn’t leave for another month. This is just to keep me busy.”

  He was such a lying sack of shit.

  “Oh, well I guess we’ll be running into each other a lot over the next few weeks. This is my favorite café.”

  Asher scowled, as this revelation seemed to please her as well.

  Westerman smiled at her, his regard crawling over her body in a way that made Asher want to rip his seedy eyes out of his fucking head.

  “Let me get your coffee.”

  “Thanks.”

  As Westerman made her coffee, Scarlet glanced around the shop. Asher ducked lower in the booth and quickly pretended he was busy with his phone.

  “Here you go, Red.”

  “Thanks, Bobby.”

  “Why don’t you let me take you out sometime, for old time’s sake? If I recall we always had fun together.” His eyes continued to devour her as his tongue slithered over his teeth making a disgusting sucking sound he could hear halfway across the café. “I’d love to see you again, Red. All of you.”

  She slid her card across the counter and picked up her coffee. “Sure.”

  Sure? Sure? What the fuck?

  “You’re looking good, Lettie.”

  “So are you.”

  “Can I hit you up? Get your number? I’m free Saturday night.”

  Westerman slid her a slip of paper and Asher’s heart stopped as he watched her jot something down. “Sure. Message me. I’m on GeekPeek.”

  “Still Farrow? Never married?”

  She laughed. “Nope.”

  “Lucky me. Why did we ever break up, anyway?”

  “I’m not really sure. College, I guess.”

  Leaning over the counter he whispered something in her ear. Her face flushed, her smile undisturbed.

  “Yeah, I remember.” She laughed. “But, hey, I gotta run. I have an appointment.”

  He grinned, his seedy eyes full of self-satisfied egotism. He waved the slip of paper and nodded. “Okay. I’ll be in touch, Red. Saturday night.”

  Still smiling, she adjusted her coffee and purse. “You bet.”

  His gaze turned lascivious as he tacked on, “Can’t wait to see more of you.”

  Asher stared unblinking as the door closed behind her. Pure fury boiled inside of him. How could she?

  Clamping down his molars, he stood. As he passed the trashcan he threw the bag of grounds inside, interrupting the nearby conversations of the patrons. Shoving his way out the door, he yanked the collar of his coat high and marched to his car.

  ****

  Scarlet scrambled for her phone as soon as she climbed into the front seat of her car. Thumbing over Nicole’s contact info, she quickly dialed and started the car.

  “Yello!”

  “You will never guess who I just ran into at The Stomping Grounds!” Shaking off the lingering sensation, as though an eel just swam threw her legs, she squirmed and gagged.

  “Who?”

  “Bobby. Westerman.”

  “Noooooo….” Nicole bellowed. “Ew!”

  “I know! He works there.”

  “Oh no! Who hired that asshole? Now we’re going to have to find a new place to get our caffeine fix.”

  “I know! This sucks! The only thing worse would be if he worked at the liquor store.”

  “Bite your tongue!” Nicole laughed. “So what does he look like?”

  “Old. Wanna throw up?”

  “Not really, but tell me anyway.”

  “He asked me out.”

  Nicole made a gagging sound into the phone. “Did you say yes?”

  “Ew!No! How desperate do you think I am?” Sticking her coffee in the console, she pulled onto the road. “He asked for my number and everything.”

  “Did you give it to him?”

  “Hell no! I told him to hit me up on GeekPeek. If he sends me a friend request I’ll just leave him in purgatory.”

  “Better yet, block him. He’s so creepy I can totally picture him whacking off to your profile picture.”

  She gagged again, this time tasting vomit. “Gross, Nicole! Now I’m picturing it.”

  “What? You slept with him.”

  “Shut. Up. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life. He’s so disgusting. Oh, and get this, he can’t figure out why we ever broke up.”

  “Are you serious? Did you explain it’s because he was a selfish brute?”

  “No, I didn’t want to get into all that in the middle of the coffee shop, so I just nodded and smiled, pacified the asshole, and got the hell out of Dodge. Now I have to go shower, because even looking at him makes me feel filthy.”

  Her friend giggled. “Damn it. I was going to stop there after the gym. Now what am I gonna do?”

  They talked as Scarlet drove home. She’d needed the distraction, being that she was making herself crazy obsessing over every passing second until she finally got to see Mr. Stone.

  Over the past two weeks she’d done every possible thing she could to keep from ripping out her hair. She missed him desperately, wanted him with all her heart, and no amount of reflection would change that. She just had to survive the last few hours.

  ****

  Asher paced by the window waiting for the car to appear. When Steve finally arrived, his gut cramped painfully. He should just lock the door and never think about her again.

  He didn’t call her last night like he’d planned and all day he’d been wondering if Westerman had contacted her, if they talked, set up that Saturday night date he suggested.

  She emerged from the car and he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He’d severely overestimated her feelings, thought she honestly cared enough about him not to see other people, but what did he know?

  Nothing. He knew absolutely nothing beyond the fact that this was too much for him. He’d allowed himself to care and now it felt as though his heart was being ripped from his chest.

  Steve escorted her up the steps and placed her hand in his. “Thank you, Pennyworth.”

  Asher escorted her inside, quickly removing her scarf and undoing the buttons of her coat.

  “Good evening, Mr. Stone.”

  “Good evening.” His eyes blinked furiously as his throat constricted, making it difficult to speak. After tonight, he’d never see her again, never know the touch of her skin to his or the scent of her hair. Dragging out any sort of goodbye seemed cruel, but he needed one last glimpse of her before everything she shared disappeared to a memory.

  “I missed you.”

  He made a disbelieving sound.

  “Should I undress?” Every muscle tightened, making it harder to breath.

  “Please…” The word escaped as some sort of prayer for strength, but she interpreted it differently. Her fingers quickly unbuttoned her blouse and he balked. Why was she doing this?

>   He paced away, not venturing to watch her or stop her. Pouring a glass of wine, he drank heavily. When he turned, she was slipping off her panties. As she stood, her ivory form shone under the light thrown from the hearth.

  Taking her narrow arm, he instructed, “Come with me.” Refusing to go into the ballroom with the bed, he led her to the chairs in the foyer. He needed to take control of the situation fast. “I’d like you to kneel, Ms. Farrow.”

  She lowered herself to the ground, her motions shaky. Her breasts no longer wore his markings. Small raspberry nipples pointed outward. Her chest heaved as she waited. His eyes went to the thatch of red curls between her legs and he turned away.

  Get it over with. “Are you comfortable?”

  She nodded.

  Jesus, she was stunning. Her delicate beauty arrested his common sense, stole his logic and made his task more daunting than it already was. Face tight, he slowly approached, his arm reaching for the only woman he’d ever felt a connection with. His fingertip ghosted over her larynx, barely touching her smooth skin. As overwhelming as her beauty was, he’d fallen for the woman behind the grace and elegance.

  He’d thought time would bring courage, believed changing his exterior might strengthen the interior, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bare himself the way she so exquisitely bared herself to him and believe he’d someday be enough.

  The return of his nightmares, the paralyzing fear in the face of his nemesis, it all still existed and would never go away. She deserved better. He was a fool to think he was in control, in any way, shape, or form. Despite the joys of love, there would always be the immobilizing truth of how badly she could hurt him.

  Her breathing was labored, her cheeks flushed. Sensing she was getting ahead of herself, he said, “I need you present, Ms. Farrow.”

  “I’m here, Mr. Stone. Always here.”

  For him, he thought coldly. She was here for some fantasy man he’d created and could never measure up to in real life. Her posture shifted as she shivered and drew her shoulders back. He needed to take a step back.