In front of the gilded mirror, I gripped the black granite countertop and stared at myself. My reflection revealed a deep flush to my skin, though anger had little to do with it. Devin fantasies had plagued my every thought since the night before. I couldn’t look at a hard surface without imagining him pinning me to it.
As if my thoughts conjured him out of the air, his scent swirled around me, a sweet, yet masculine essence. In the mirror, my dilated pupils almost completely obscured the cornflower blue, and wetness spread beneath my silk panties.
“Katharine”
Devin’s voice whispered through my mind, inducing a deep, lustful sigh from me. Was it memory? A twinge of recognition tightened my belly.
“Who are you?” I thought at him. “Have we met before?”
No answer. I propped my hands against the counter and hung my head forward, laughed at myself. “You’re losing it Katharine. Get a fucking grip.”
Still, need pulsed through my flesh, burning wherever he’d touched, contracting my pussy over and over again until desire consumed all thought. My shaking hands unbuckled my belt and shoved the fabric down to the floor. I set one foot on the closed lid of the toilet and dipped my fingers into my dripping folds. My other hand gripped the counter to steady me as I explored, circled, pinched my stiffened clit, and plunged two fingers in deep, but my hunger only grew. I moved my hips against my hand. Moans filled the room, and my chest heaved above my throbbing heart. Every muscle in my body tightened down like springs compressed too hard.
Time stood still for a moment before hot prickles danced out from my core, and my body bucked as the orgasm rocked me. I cried out my pleasure as the contractions slowed, ripples of pleasure dancing out from my fiery center.
Panting and giggling, I sank to the floor, thankful for private washrooms in the building. An echo of Devin’s laughter joined my own.
I blinked at the white tile wall and remembered where I was. “Shit.” How loud had I been? It had been months since I’d touched myself and never in a public place. I cleaned myself up, redressed, and washed my hands. The distinctive scent of sex lingered in the air. I lingered for a while, inhaling the mixture of lust and Devin’s own perfume, a concoction that could addict me if I allowed it.
After straightening my shirt and splashing cold water on my face, I opened the door and went out into the hallway with rubbery legs and a smile on my face.
Ash came out of the men’s washroom door to my right, a smirk quirking his lips. His powder blue eyes shined with laughter. He walked up to me, but stared past, his chin quivering. “I’d offer to give you a hand, but I think you did just fine on your own.”
I scowled, and my cheeks blazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He nodded and snickered. “Didn’t know you had it in you. Careful, you’re going to spoil your reputation as the ice queen.” With that, he strutted off down the hall with hands in his pockets.
Eyes locked wide, I dashed into the empty boardroom, grabbed my bag, and went outside to hail a cab.
* * * * *
At home, I crashed on the sofa with a glass of red wine. Had I really heard Devin? I groaned and slapped my free palm against my eye. No. I wasn’t crazy. The more I thought of him, the more I thought I’d seen him somewhere before. As I stared at the row of books on the wooden shelf along the wall, it hit me.
I jumped up from the sofa, set my glass on the table, and pulled book two off the shelf. I flipped right to chapter three where I’d introduced my handsome Raymond. A tremble rippled along my arms as I remembered writing it.
“My name is Raymond of the Eastern Circle,” the man said to Carly as he kissed her hand and looked over her with chocolate eyes.
She melted under his touch but pulled away, trembling in his shadow. “What’s the Eastern Circle?” She gazed at his light brown hair and dark, expensive suit with awe, a magnificent power lifting from him and entering her.
Raymond smiled, showing a mouth full of perfectly straight, white teeth. “You aren’t yet ready to know such things, mistress, but the time will come, I assure you.”
I snapped the book shut and tossed it away as if spiders crawled on it. “What the fuck!” I pressed fingers to my temples and paced. Devin is not a vampire. He’s not Raymond from my book. I stopped and threw my hands up. “Idiot. He’s read the book. That’s why he said Cornet was the name of his Circle and called me mistress.” I sighed and laughed. Very funny, asshole. How had I let him crawl so far into my head? A twinge of regret lingered in my chest. Did I want him to be a vampire? I shook my head. Pure lunacy.
After downing my wine, I sat down to write and actually managed to pump out two chapters before bed. I crawled under the white fluff of my duvet with Mother’s and Devin’s words rattling through my mind. I’d prove them wrong and throw it in their faces.
* * * * *
I spent the next two days writing a few chapters to go along with a new story idea. Satisfied with the steamy scenes between a werewolf and her human lover, I called up a contact I knew at Randoll Publishing, Mother’s main rival in the business.
“This is Greg.”
“Hey, Greg, this is Katharine Merrick.”
“Katharine, long time no hear. How are things on the Circle front?”
Like I’d tell you, you fake son of a bitch. “Fine, fine, but that’s not what I called to talk about. I came across a new writer I think you might like. Can I send you a sample and you can let me know what you think?”
“Uh—yeah, sure.” Silence. “I have to ask why you’re not taking this up with your mother.”
I huffed out a sigh. “You know what she’s like, Greg. I deal with her when I have to, and that’s it. Do you want this, or not?”
“Absolutely. Shoot it in an email and I’ll take a look.”
“Perfect, thanks, Greg.” I hung up, excitement putting a squeeze on my chest.
After sending my new piece to Greg, I paced with a glass of wine in my hand. By the time my laptop chimed a response, I’d downed most of the bottle of Shiraz.
I ran to my chair, sat down, and opened my email. The muscles across my shoulders tensed as I clicked his email.
Sorry, Katharine, but this is rubbish. I couldn’t even get past the first page, it was so bad. Your friend has a lot to learn about writing erotica before she’ll be able to play with the big girls. Let’s get together for a drink sometime.
Greg.
I stared at the screen for a long time, my mind buzzing with a white static nothing. Maybe Devin was right about me. If I couldn’t write, how could I make a living? I didn’t know how to do anything else.
When I found the strength to move, I crawled under the covers in my bed and, for the first time in years, cried myself to sleep.
* * * * *
My eyes open, and I gaze around the bar where Devin and I first met. Mist hangs in the air, heavy with the scent of Devin’s cologne and the freshness of winter. Hard rock music plays through the speakers. He stares at me with predatory eyes as if he’ll eat me alive and lick his fingers afterwards. My chest rises and falls harder as he draws near.
I’m wearing a white dress, strapless, the skirt just above the knee. Two slits reach up almost to my waist on either side. I slide my hands up over my breasts, press the soft fabric closer to my skin, and sigh.
Devin, wearing nothing more than a pair of black dress pants, reaches for me and licks his full lips. I step closer and run my fingers through his soft hair, marveling at the thickness of it. The hills of his chest call to me, drawing my eyes and palms to explore him.
Growling, he lifts me onto a stool and shoves the hem of the dress up a little. With strong fingers, he forces my knees open and steps in between them. His desire spreads from him through his touch and penetrates me with delicious, sticky fingers of warmth. We are of one mind. Even though a part of me is sickened by my lack of will, the rest of me trembles with excitement.
The brush of fabric against my lower lips tells
me I’m not wearing panties. Wetness seeps out faster, and little ripples of pleasure pulsate through my pussy. I grind against his growing mound, gasping at how hard he is. Devin wraps his arms around me and jerks my hips forward, spreading me open so the fabric covering his zipper slides deep into my crevice and contacts my swollen nub. I cry out when he grips my ass, his cool breath washing over my throat.
I’ve never wanted anything as badly so I reach down and open up his zipper, slide my hand in, and claim what I find inside. As my fingers follow my thoughts, he grabs my wrists and twists my arms around to my back faster than I can see. Directly into my ear, he whispers, “Are you afraid?”
“Yes,” I say between labored breaths.
“Does it excite you?”
I hesitate, uncertain for only a moment before I know the truth. “Yes.”
“Good. Are you ready to open yourself to me? To be mine?”
“Oh, yes.”
His laughter comes from low in his chest, a deep rumbling sound. “Then my invitation is given and accepted. I shall claim you tomorrow night.” He presses his lips against my cheek. “Be ready.”
“How do I find you?”
“For now, I will find you. Soon you will be mine and you will need only to think of me.”
* * * * *
I woke to the pink light of dawn Friday morning, my thighs soaked with my own wetness. A tiny tremor of fear lingered in the pit of my stomach. What did he mean, “You’ll be mine”? Despite my unease, I considered going out with him. Maybe he could teach me something about passion that I could use to improve my writing before I dumped his controlling ass to the curb.
After showering, I headed into my bedroom to get dressed. In the middle of my white duvet sat a large black box with a white silk scarf tied into a bow at the top. My leg muscles cramped, and a scream brewed in my throat. My eyes darted around the room. Nothing else had been disturbed. The white area rug had no footprints other than the ones made earlier from my bare feet. My mahogany dresser still had a stack of books neatly arranged on the left edge, and the duvet on my king-sized bed had only one dent—beneath the black box.
I remembered locking the door, and I lived on the sixteenth floor, so the windows and terrace weren’t accessible.
Without looking at the card on top, I already knew who it would be from.
I inched toward the bed and craned my neck forward so I could see the card, but the puffy white bow obscured the writing. Knee propped on the edge of the mattress, I slid my fingers over the cardboard’s smooth surface expecting to feel vibrations or heat or something unsavory to leap out and scare the wits out of me. When nothing happened, I snatched the black envelope, jumped back, and scanned the room again.
Should I call the police? Probably. Did I want that bother on my peaceful Friday? Not really.
The same silver emblem from the business card appeared in the upper left corner of the glossy envelope. In white script, it said: For my Katharine with a K.
My Katharine? My thighs tingled before I growled and shook myself. I had enough people trying to own me in my life. I didn’t need another. I concentrated on the pounding in my chest as adrenaline filled me from head to toe in a dizzying rush. I sat down on the edge of my bed and stared at the envelope.
After a deep breath, I broke the red wax seal, slid out the antique-looking heavy paper, and unfolded it.
To my dearest Katharine.
It pleases me to see you opening your mind to the truth.
I will be there to retrieve you this evening at eight o’clock, when I will find you wearing the dress with which I have gifted you. You will wear your hair up, all of it, and you will be free of jewelry and perfume.
Anger welled up in me. I crumpled the note and threw it on the floor. He was as bad as my mother, trying to force me to wear what he wanted, not giving me an option to stay or to go. Maybe I was wrong. To hell with him.
I stared down at the ball of paper, my curiosity urging my hand to reach for it. After a moment’s hesitation, I gave in and picked it up.
If you think you have found true pleasure through your own hands, then I shall change your thinking. Be ready when I arrive to claim you, and speak of me to no one.
My vision wavered. The red walls paled to gray as I considered how he could have known what I’d done in the bathroom that day. Had he been in the room with me? I swallowed at the path my thoughts took. Was he really in my head? Was he really a vampire?
Glance darting around, I imagined him looking at me at that moment, wrapped in a towel and completely vulnerable, and bolted from the room.
Chapter Three
After pulling on some panties from the dryer, I paced in my living room, clutching my towel to my chest and wringing my hands together. “I’m just tired.” I forced breaths through my nose so I wouldn’t hyperventilate. “Devin is not a fucking vampire. He’s just screwing with me.” Besides, vampires needed to be invited in. Didn’t they? It didn’t matter who or what he was. He’d still let himself into my apartment while I showered.
“Do not fear me, my Katharine. Embrace me.”
His voice flitted through my head in velvet tones, stroking me from the inside and siphoning away my unease. I closed my eyes. His fierce presence overwhelmed me and left me panting on the middle of the hardwood with my arms wrapped around myself. My thong dampened. I let down my resistance and relaxed my thoughts so he could penetrate me deeper.
With each step, the mere brush of my silk panties against my lower lips caused me to inhale. “Who are you?”
“I am a door you must open if you want to be free. Be ready when I come for you.”
When my heart calmed, I returned to my bedroom and to his gift.
The ribbon fell away with a tug on the bow. I lifted the lid and folded back the red tissue. Though it should have, it didn’t surprise me when I withdrew the white dress from my dream. The one with the slits up the sides. I brought it to my nose, inhaled his scent, and shuddered under the sudden rush of endorphins.
He’d find me anywhere I tried to hide, through locked doors, around the world if I went. Somehow I knew it. I liked it, the uncertainty of it all. My life had been handed to me with a schedule attached, and I’d followed it like a blind sheep in Mother’s shadow. For the first time, I wanted to run wild, to do something exciting.
“I’ll be ready.”
Dark laughter. “Yes, you will.”
As the morning wore on, my nerves failed. In need of a distraction, I donned my running gear and went down to the street. The sultry July sun warmed me as I ran. The scent of cut grass and wildflowers perfumed the air as my feet pounded the pavement along the trail through Central Park. From there, I continued on to the high school track and ran laps until I collapsed on the grass with quivering calf muscles and aching feet. After a few minutes to catch my breath, I headed home with a clenched stomach and whirling thoughts.
I spent an hour in a bubble-filled tub, shaving everything below the neck that could be shaved, while my mind spun fantasies of what my date might do to me. Would it be too slutty of me to sleep with Devin on our first date? Did I care? My negative answer startled me. If the opportunity presented itself, I’d probably jump on it.
My heart thumped as I wound hot rollers into my hair and searched online for anything I could find about Devin of Cornet. A half hour of research revealed nothing, not even confirmation that the address on the business card existed—if that was even where he intended to take me.
By seven o’clock, my dark mahogany hair sat atop my head in a mass of curls. A few spirals dangled along my temples and down my neck. Unable to eat or sit still, I busied myself tidying my already immaculate kitchen, arranging the flowers in the window and the pictures along the mantel, and digging through my shoes to find ones that would match the revealing dress.
At seven-thirty, I rolled on my stockings and fastened them to my white lace garters, chose my favorite white thong from my top drawer, and slipped it over top. I didn’t n
eed a bra with the corset style of the dress, not that I had a white strapless one anyway.
Fully dressed, I stood in front of the mirror, cringing at the amount of boob pillowing over the top of the bodice. A search through my closet led me to a black wrap I applied around my shoulders.
My black strappy heels tapped against the hardwood as I strutted into the living room to wait for Devin, my hips sashaying with the motion. Each step revealed the lacy top of my stockings through the slits. I’d never worn anything that dipped so far into the realm of slut, but, by the warmth building between my legs, I thought maybe I liked that, too.
I checked my purse fifteen times to make sure I’d put my lip gloss, toothbrush and wallet inside, along with a spare pair of panties—just in case the night went better than I expected.
“I knew I chose well with that dress.”
I screamed. My black beaded handbag flew out of my hand and clacked to the floor by the wall.
Devin leaned his shoulder against the main entrance door, his legs crossed at the ankle, hands shoved into his pockets as if he’d been standing there for a while. The black suit he wore hugged him to perfection, and the deep red shirt and matching silk tie brought out a crimson hue in his eyes.
“You scared the hell out of me.” I fanned myself with my hand and backed away. “I thought—shouldn’t I have to invite you in?” I hoped with all my might he’d laugh at my idiocy.
A grin worked his lips.
My heart sank.
He pushed away from the door and took slow deliberate steps toward me as his fingers straightened the cuffs of his jacket. “But, you did invite me, Katharine.”
I shook my head and continued to back up, maneuvering around the furniture as I reached each obstacle. “I think I would have remembered that.”
The Circle Page 2