Links

by Shandi Boyes

  Incapable of holding back my desires for a moment longer, my hands shoot out to grip the base of Marcus's twitching shaft. I work my hand up and down his pulsating member as my tongue laps up every drop of his spawn. I love his taste so much I don't want to miss a single drop.

  A frustrated groan parts my lips when Marcus steps backward, pulling his pulsating cock out of my mouth with a pop. My lust-crazed eyes dart up to his, demanding an explanation for his withdrawal of contact. I am so desperate for him, sexual frustration is bubbling in my veins.

  “You were told not to touch me. Disobedience has no place in this room, Cleo. Now you must be punished. There is no cause for delay.”

  My kneecaps crack back into place when Marcus yanks me off the floor. When my legs curl around his sweat-slicked waist, his erect flesh hangs heavy between my legs. I grind against him, hungry for friction on my skin. Marcus adjusts my position, denying me the opportunity to rub my clit against his engorged knob.

  “Disobedience does not equal pleasure.”

  Before a single gripe can leave my lips, his tongue slides into my mouth, claiming and possessing every inch of me. His dominating kiss makes me feel aroused and incredibly wanted even knowing I am about to be punished.

  I wait for panic to make itself known when Marcus places me onto my feet next to the wall housing the finest quality whips, floggers, and spanking apparatuses. It never comes. The lust crackling in the air is too dense for something as weak as fear to enter the equation. I’m not scared, panicked or hesitant. I am hazed with helpless pleasure, ready to submit to my Master.

  What I said to Marcus earlier was a lie. This isn’t just his domain. It's mine as well.

  29

  “Did you know about this?” Lexi asks, not bothering to issue a greeting.

  The large leather chair in Marcus's office gives out a squeak when I sit down. With my cracked cell phone sitting on the entranceway table of my home in Montclair, I've resorted to using the computer to keep in contact with Lexi the past three days. Although Marcus offered to replace my cell, we've never gotten around to it. We would have needed to leave the private sanctuary of his house for that to happen, and since neither of us were eager to do that, FaceTime became the perfect solution to preserve my sister-meddling.

  Today is the first time Marcus and I have been apart the past three days. He left the house only twenty minutes ago to attend an emergency meeting with his band at their record label’s head office in Hopeton. With cabin fever making my feet itchy, I initially requested to go with him. When he explained the mass number of paparazzi who swarm Hopeton, I withdrew my request. I prefer watching the clamor from the other side of the camera lens, rather than be inundated with it.

  The last seventy-two hours of my life have been a magical, not just my sexual relationship with Marcus, but our entire bizarre kindship. Although our relationship has been built at a reckless speed, our opposing personalities have melded together so nicely, you’d swear we’ve been a couple for years, not mere days. Our online association was filled with lust and fire-sparking passion, so it was only natural it would follow a similar path when brought into a real-life setting.

  Although there have been times where I’ve felt vulnerable and exposed, I’ve learned a lot about myself the past three days. I’ve always trusted Marcus, so my most significant learning curve wasn’t about trusting him; it was about trusting my own instincts as well. What Marcus said in his playroom was true. I’ve wanted to submit to him for weeks; I was just too worried about society’s opinion on my decision that I pushed my desires to the side by using the excuse of equality and feminism.

  Not anymore. From now on, I’m going to openly express myself. Does that mean I’ll sign a contract with Marcus and become his sub? No, it doesn’t. Marcus can pretend all he likes that my bratty personality annoys him, but until his forthright eyes relay the same annoyance, I’ll continue being who I am.

  “Base to Cleo, are you there?” Lexi’s loud voice screeches out of the computer speakers, drawing my attention back to her.

  I sink deeper into my chair, the lusty smile on my face telling her where my thoughts wandered to. Lexi sticks her finger down her throat, pretending she is repulsed by the stories my eyes are relaying. I waggle my brows, grateful I’m finally giving her a taste of her own medicine.

  “Mrs. Rachet will be devastated you shared your roaring sex life with half of Montclair before she did,” Lexi snickers loudly.

  Giggling, she twists her phone around to show she is sitting in her CF specialist’s bustling waiting room. Usually, I’d break out in hives from having my sex life discussed in public, but I’m too panicked at discovering Lexi is at Dr. Spencer’s office to be embarrassed.

  With my heart sitting in my chest, I scoot to the edge of my chair. “Why are you at Dr. Spencer’s? Is everything okay?” I interrogate, my panic unmissable in my fretful tone.

  Not waiting for Lexi to reply, I minimize our FaceTime screen and bring up the latest flight schedule. If she’s had another severe attack, nothing will stop me catching the first flight home. I may finally be expressing my desires without pausing to consider society’s opinion, but that doesn’t mean my love of my sister has diminished. She has, and always will be, my utmost priority. I also made a promise to my mom the day of her funeral; I plan on keeping my promise.

  “Did he tell you he was doing this?” Lexi asks, distracting me from securing my credit card out of my purse resting on the desk.

  I've only heard her use that voice a small handful of times in her twenty-one years. It's usually when she is overwhelmed with excitement. Come to think of it, the last time I heard her speak in such a way was when Jackson asked her out for the first time.

  I drag the mouse across the mousepad, eager to bring up our FaceTime screen. My nerves are so rattled I miss the darn cursor box numerous times. The instant I have Lexi’s beaming face projecting out of the monitor, I stammer out. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  Lexi laughs—loudly.

  “No!” She freezes as her expression goes deadpan. “God no!” She gags as a shiver racks over her body, like the idea of being pregnant is worse than catching cooties.

  “Then what’s going on?” I tilt closer to the monitor, wanting to ensure Abel doesn’t overhear my latest comment. “Did those special vitamins arrive earlier than expected?”

  Lexi chuckles again. This one isn’t laced with shocked concern like her earlier one. It's brimming with sexual undertone.

  “No. But I’ve been refreshing the tracking information every hour,” she admits with a suggestive waggle of her brows. “Tell Abel I said thanks for the tip on the acai berries. Ever since I added them to Jackson’s smoothies, I’ve been walking bowlegged.”

  My breakfast gurgles in my stomach, disturbed by Lexi confession. “I’m not sure that was Abel’s intention, but I’ll be sure to let him know.”

  My first impression of Abel was highly accurate. Not only is he a wonderful man who has lived an amazing life, he is also my biggest ally in unearthing the real Marcus. Just like my first day here, we’ve had breakfast together every morning the past three days. He shares stories from when he lived next door to Marcus in a rundown housing project in Ravenshoe, while I give him play-by-play rundowns on Lexi’s many quirky antics. We may even occasionally gang up on Marcus to get things our way. Not anything major, usually, just what movies we’re going to watch or what we should eat for dinner. I won’t lie; it’s nice having a sparring partner when wrangling a man as dominant as Marcus. Who knows, maybe one day I will get to top him.

  Smiling at my wickedly evil thoughts, I shift my eyes to Lexi. She peers at me through the camera lens, not the least bit intimidated by my demanding stare. The longer we’re silent, the more my quintessential need to know everything gnaws at my insides.

  “What going on?!” I squeal, no longer capable of holding in my eagerness to discover what has shunted Lexi into silence. She doesn’t understand the meaning of quiet,
let alone undertaking it.

  Lexi waits a beat, annoyingly fostering the suspense depriving the air of oxygen. My ballet flats tap the carpet madly, the tension thickening my veins too great to ignore.

  Only once the air turns murderous does Lexi finally mutter, “I’ve been added to the Kalydeco program.”

  I freeze as confusion envelopes me. “What?” I ask, certain I didn’t hear her right.

  We’ve been trying to get Lexi admitted to the Kalydeco program for years. But with its price tag sitting at over $300,000 a year, it was well out of our budget.

  “I’m in,” Lexi confirms, nodding so briskly our video stream glitches. “The initial tests Dr. Spencer ran on Monday came back clear. I start the program today.”

  “Today?!” I squeal, too shocked to say more. My entire body shakes as tears freely glide down my face.

  Lexi swipes at a puddle of moisture pooling in her eyes while nodding. “Today!” she roars down the line, scaring the living daylights out of me.

  I push back from the desk and stand from my chair. My movements are so abrupt, the large leather chair sails backward until it crashes into the drywall with a thud. I stare at my sister’s smiling face for several moments, muted and confused. I don’t bother clearing the tears streaming from my eyes. There are too many for me to contend with, so why bother? My heart fitfully pounds my chest as the weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders the past four years alleviates.

  No longer able to hold in my excitement, I throw my arms into the air and do a happy jig. Lexi joins me, not the slightest bit embarrassed she is shaky her booty in a crammed waiting room. She dances like nobody is watching, her happiness too overwhelming to leash.

  I don’t know how much time passes before I slump back into my chair. We danced long enough Lexi’s cheeks are a vibrant red coloring, and I’m wheezing and out of breath, but not long enough my utter shock has dissipated.

  “Can you believe he did this?” Lexi asks.

  I shake my head. “No, I can’t. I added provisions during our negotiations, but I never knew he’d take it this far.”

  Her brows scrunch as confusion clouds her moisture-filled eyes. “Negotiations?”

  I nod.

  Her eyes widen as the color in her cheeks drain. “You negotiated my health into your deal?”

  When I nod again, Lexi grumbles, “That’s disgusting.”

  Stunned by her bizarre response, I explain, "Requesting to have health coverage included in an employment contract isn't unusual. If you negotiate fairly, the terms can work out amicable for both parties. I saw the desperation in Mr. Carson’s eyes when he propositioned me to investigate the Chains story, so I went in gung-ho. Obviously, my tactic worked.”

  My confession doesn’t ease the confusion marring Lexi’s face. If anything, it intensifies it. “Global Ten Media isn’t paying for me to participate in the Kalydeco program,” she stumbles out a short time later, her tone reserved.

  My lungs struggle to secure an entire breath. "Then who is?" I ask, my eyes dancing between Lexi’s candid gaze.

  Lexi tilts in close to her cell, filling my computer monitor with her beautifully flustered face. “Chains is,” she reveals, her low tone indicating she is concerned what my response will be.

  My pupils widen as my pulse comes to a grinding halt. My lips twitch, endeavoring to say something to ease the concern brewing in her eyes, but not a word is fired off my tongue. I am too stunned to articulate anything. Don’t get me wrong, it's a good shock, but still shock nonetheless.

  My wide eyes lift to the computer monitor when Lexi’s name is called. She raises her finger in the air, soundlessly requesting a minute before she devotes her attention back to me.

  “I’ve got to go, Cleo. Dr. Spencer is ready for me,” she informs me, glee distinguishable in her voice. “I’ll call you the instant I leave his office.”

  After an impromptu air kiss, Lexi disconnects our chat, leaving me sitting dumbfounded and mute. I slump lower into my chair, shocked into silence. The Kalydeco program isn't just $300,000 in total. It's $300,000 a year for the remainder of Lexi's life. A drug like this is so beneficial for Lexi, her life expectancy just grew by another ten to fifteen years, so that’s millions and millions of dollars. Although Marcus’s generosity doesn't surprise me, I am still overwhelmed he did this for Lexi. I’m overwhelmed he did this for me.

  How could I ever repay him for something so mammoth?

  30

  Ten minutes later, I am still sitting in Marcus’s office, stunned in silence. Although my mind is stuck in a foggy haze, one thing is evidently clear. Strangers may construe Marcus’s decision to fund Lexi’s treatment as coercing me to be his sub, but I don’t see it that way. I’ve only known Marcus a matter of months, but I know him well enough to say he didn’t help Lexi for his own gain; he did it out of the goodness of his own heart.

  The first time Marcus gave me access to his office, I stumbled upon some accounting records left strewn on his desk. I’m not going to lie, when I saw Chains’ monthly revenue, I nearly fell off my chair. I know the value of privacy is priceless, but the amount people are willing to pay to guarantee it's mind-boggling. But do you want to know something even more shocking? Every month, Chains’ profits are distributed to numerous charities close to Marcus’s heart—Links being the biggest beneficiary. Marcus doesn’t keep a single penny for himself. Not one.

  That proves without a doubt that Marcus is as generous as he is dominant. His generosity is one item on a long list of reasons why I’ve fallen head over heels in love with him. Yes, I love him. I know it's early. I know it's crazy. But I love him. Wildly. Recklessly. Wholeheartedly. I love him.

  The sweep of my hand across my cheeks to remove sneaky sentimental tears freezes halfway when the annoying buzz of my FaceTime Messenger App shrieks into my ears. After gathering my heart from the floor, I swivel my seat to face the computer monitor on Marcus’s large desk. Eager to discover how Lexi’s appointment went with Dr. Spencer, I wiggle my mouse and click my FaceTime app.

  Since I’m expecting my caller to be Lexi, I don’t check the name of the person requesting to FaceTime me. It's a foolish move on my behalf. Sick gloom spreads across my chest when a face I’m not expecting to see pops up on my computer screen. It's Richard, security officer at Global Ten Media.

  After exhaling my nerves with a deep breath, I lock my eyes with Richard’s. His facial expression is calm and unemotional, but his eyes are telling an entirely different story. They are stormy with alarm.

  “Hi, Richard. Is everything okay?” I ask, distressed by his apparent instability.

  He isn’t the only one with unpredictable nerves. I’ve gone from an all-inspiring high to a devastating low in a matter of seconds. The shift in my demeanor has my body shaking so much it appears as if we have a bad connection. We don't. The internet service is so seamless I can see every dark speckle in Richard's icy eyes. His edgy gaze has my anxieties creeping toward a steep cliff, threatening to fall into horrid tension at any moment.

  The unpleasant assumptions running rampant through my mind are proven on point when Richard straight out asks, “How do you know Marcus Everett?”

  My breath hitches halfway to my lungs. It isn’t his failure to issue a greeting that has me gasping for air; it's the concern exhibited by his somber gaze. Although we've only associated at work, I've seen many sides of Richard's personality the past five years. Not once have his eyes held the amount of arrogant apprehension they do now. More times than not, showy cockiness beams out of him in invisible waves.

  Although I am stunned by Richard’s off-putting demeanor, I act unaware of who his question is referring to. I will forever be in Richard’s debt for the assistance he provided me Saturday night, but my desire to protect Marcus outweighs displaying gratitude to a man who has a long way to prove his worth to me.

  “Who?” I stammer out, my words as uneasy as Richard’s facial expression.

  My knuckles whiten from my firm
grip on Marcus’s chair as I await Richard’s reply. It's lucky we are conversing via a computer or the sound of my heart smashing my ribs would give away the deceitfulness of my reply.

  Heavy lines of doubt score Richard’s smooth forehead. “Marcus Everett—bassist of Rise Up?” he continues to interrogate, not the slightest bit concerned about the intrusiveness of his question. “How do you know him?”

  My throat tightens, then burns. “Umm… I don’t really know him. Not any more than a standard fan would.” My heart falls from my ribcage. Even I heard the deceit in my voice.

  Richard glares into my eyes, calling me a fraud without a syllable escaping his lips. I look away from the screen, hating that I’m so transparent. My fighting spirit when battling people like Delilah is without hindrance as my replies are honest and straight from my heart. But I’ve always found it hard to lie in general, even more so when it's to people who haven’t given me a reason to be deceitful. Richard may be an asshole, but he’s never given me a reason to lie to him.

  "You don't know Marcus?" Richard asks again, dragging my focus back to him.

  The instant my eyes connect with his I regret my decision. He may have only said four small words, but his eyes cross-examine me more than his words ever could.

  “No,” I reply again, peering straight into his eyes, concealing my lie with a rueful glare.

  A rock settles in my stomach, hating how easy the lies are flowing from my mouth. But there is no way I’ll sit back and watch someone take aim at the man I am in love with without trying to intercept their play.

  The heat of Richard’s frustrated gaze is so potent it scorches my skin through the computer monitor. "He isn't the man responsible for your attack last week?" he continues to insinuate, his tone having a whip of anger attached to it.