Salvage Him (Highland Park Chronicles Book 1)

by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle

  She squirmed and rocked against the bench.

  "You like that, Kelly." I ran my hand over her ass. It was hot to the touch. "You love it when I smack your ass." I spoke to Kelly, but I kept my gaze on Brooklyn.

  She nodded her head slightly.

  Did she imagine herself tied to my bench? Were her ass cheeks warm to the touch?

  My dick ached in my dark jeans. I ran my hand over the bulge in my pants.

  Brooklyn's eyes grew wide.

  I tried not to look at her, but I couldn't help it. She looked so good, and I wanted her on the bench squirming as I played with her. All my rules went out the window with the thought of Brooklyn as my sub, strapped to my table.

  I leaned over and kissed Kelly on her lower back. She inhaled as my fingers massaged the top of her ass. She tilted her ass up in the air, and my fingers dipped between her ass cheeks and into her folds. I needed to feel how she reacted to me.

  I was hard.

  She was wet.

  She yelped and let out a moan when I flicked her clit. My eyes locked on Brooklyn, and I pulled my hand away.

  Kelly whimpered. "Please, Sir. Don't stop."

  Brooklyn narrowed her eyes and stood up. She bit her lip to avoid saying something.

  The scowl on her face told me all I needed to know.

  I fucked up.

  She wasn't happy.

  Without another look, she made her exit.

  I followed her.

  "Harrison?" I stopped at the door.

  I couldn't leave Kelly tied up down here.

  I walked back over to the bench and untied the restraints on her wrist. She rubbed them and pushed herself up.

  "We're done?" Kelly asked.

  "I'm sorry, Kelly. I have to go."

  She grabbed my arm.

  "Where are you going? After her?" She blinked back tears. "What was this, Harrison? Who is she?"

  My heart pounded. I returned to the bench and helped Kelly into a robe that hung on the wall.

  She pinched it tightly around her waist and crossed her arms over her chest.

  "I'm sorry." I didn't mean to take it that far but apologizing to a sub. What was going on with me?

  "We've always been straight with each other, right?" Kelly asked.

  I nodded.

  "You used me to make her jealous. Not cool." She shook her head.

  "I am sorry, Kelly." I reached for her. "I'm just . . . I don't know where my brain is lately. All I know is I want her."

  "So what's the problem?" She shrugged.

  "She's married."

  The disgust on Kelly's face matched the pain in my heart.

  Her tears returned. She pushed herself off the bench and walked out the door.

  I must be the first Dom in history to have two subs walk out on him in one night.

  Maybe I could salvage one of these relationships.

  I left to find Brooklyn.

  Eight

  Brooklyn

  That was a colossal mistake.

  I spotted Abbie across the main floor of the club. She had stretched out on one of the leather couches to the right of the stage. A guy with short-cropped hair knelt at her side. He wore dark jeans and nothing else.

  She smiled.

  I waved her over.

  She rolled her eyes, whispered to her companion, and stomped over.

  "I'm leaving," I said.

  "Why? What happened?" She grabbed my arm.

  "I'll tell you about it later. Stay. Have fun." I motioned to her new friend. "I'll leave the car."

  "You sure?"

  "Yeah." I leaned in and hugged her. "What's your safe word?"

  "Brooklyn."

  "You got it." We laughed and hugged again.

  I stepped back into the lobby. The hostess stood between me and the front door.

  "Awe, leaving so soon," she said.

  "Yeah. I thought my friend needed a little moral support, but she’s in her element." I smirked.

  "You are, too, if I'm correct." She patted my shoulder. "I'm always right about these things."

  "Maybe at one time in my life." I shrugged and shook my head. "Not anymore."

  She smiled and motioned for one of the attendants.

  "Jamie, please get Ms. McIntyre's car."

  "No. I'll leave the car for Abbie. I'll just order a ride." I searched for my phone.

  "We have cars on standby. No need." She nodded at Jamie.

  He headed into the parking garage while talking into his radio.

  A black Mercedes with dark tinted windows pulled up minutes later. Jamie opened the door.

  "You’re returning home, ma'am?" the driver asked as I slid into the backseat.

  "Yes." I gave him the address, but he held up his hand as if he had it—full-service BDSM club.

  The car ride was short but not short enough to keep my mind from returning to the room.

  Watching Harrison touch that girl stirred something in me I hadn't felt in a long time. At the same time, it hurt to watch him with her. I was disappointed in him. His behavior, the way he put his sub on display. He used her to toy with me, not proper Dom behavior.

  They way he touched her, it surprised her. It was not part of their usual play.

  Sex has nothing to do with a Dom/sub relationship.

  If he believed that, then he was missing out.

  "We're here, ma'am." Again with the ma'am.

  The doorman opened the car door.

  "Hi, Mrs. McIntyre. Welcome home." He reached out for my hand.

  He said it like I'd traveled to distant lands.

  I felt like I had.

  "Hi, Jason. Are you on all night?" I took his hand. His hands were soft. Harrison's hands were big and rough.

  I shook it off.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "My friend Abbie should be coming back tonight in my car. So keep a look out for her. She may or may not remember where to park." I stepped toward the building.

  "I'll take care of her when she arrives." Jason grabbed the door and ushered me in. He was clean-shaven and stood stiffly in his starched black shirt and black pants.

  "Thanks, good night." I waved as I approached the elevator.

  "Good night."

  I rode the elevator to my floor.

  I needed to wash the club off my skin, and Harrison out of my system. As soon as I dropped my bag on the chair in my room, the intercom near the door rang.

  "Mrs. McIntyre," Jason’s voice filled the room. "There's a Mr. Harrison Crawford here to see you."

  I narrowed my eyes.

  What the fuck is he doing here?

  I couldn't invite him up here. The tenants would be gossiping about it by morning. The New Yorker had men visiting her all hours of the night while her husband was out of town.

  "Can you have him meet me in the lounge by the pool? Tell him I'll be right down." Out in the open seemed safer.

  "Of course."

  I wanted no signs of the night or its effect on my face or my body. I shed the white button down, black corset, and skirt. I kicked off the boots and pulled on a pair of jeans and an oversized hooded sweatshirt. I removed my makeup, put on some gloss. I put my hair up in a ponytail as I headed downstairs.

  My hands shook as the elevator descended. I didn’t know what to expect. Was he angry with me? I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the lounge.

  Harrison stood looking out the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the pool. I loved the space down here. The blue light in the water pulled in the blues and greens of the room. It reminded me of Harrison's eyes.

  He didn't turn around right away.

  I crossed my arms over my chest.

  I wasn't angry with him. The situation scared me. When we first met, I couldn't understand why I was so drawn to him, why my body craved him. Now, I knew why.

  We were drawn to each other, complemented each other.

  While his behavior tonight didn't reflect it, I knew he was a good Dom. It was my presence that
had him off his game. Following him into that room where neither of us had control over the situation was dangerous. Much like now.

  I had no idea what I had walked into.

  Harrison

  The doorman escorted me to a lounge overlooking the pool. The guy waited until she arrived.

  She didn't trust me, and it hurt more than I cared to admit.

  I watched her approach through the reflection in the window.

  "Thanks, Jason." She dismissed the doorman.

  I waited for her to speak.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked.

  I turned, opened, and shut my mouth.

  She looked different.

  She had changed out of her outfit and wore tight jeans and a hoodie meant to hide her assets. It didn't. Her cleaned face looked more beautiful than her made-up look. If her intention was to temper her appearance, it didn't work. She was fucking beautiful.

  "I wanted to apologize." I ran my hand through my hair. "I'm really sorry. At the club, I was out of line."

  She shook her head and opened her mouth.

  "Let me finish." I held my hand up but lowered it. "Please."

  She tilted her head.

  "I seem to be doing things wrong around you. I would never disrespect you if I were thinking straight, but I can't seem to do that around you." I bowed my head.

  "Why?" she whispered but wouldn't look me in the eye.

  "Don't make me say it." It gutted me.

  "You're right. I'm sorry, too." She sat down on one of the lounge chairs and relaxed into the cushion. "I don't mean to—"

  "You didn't." I sat down opposite on a similar chair. Splashing noises came from the pool. Our heads turned to watch a couple playing. "Was that your first time at a BDSM club?"

  She smirked and pushed a stray hair behind her ear.

  "No." A smile curled up at the corners of her lips. "My ex-boyfriend. He and I met at school, and he had only been a Dom for a short time. I was curious. He brought Abbie and me into the lifestyle."

  "Abbie, the girl you came with tonight?"

  "Yeah, she and I grew up together." She chuckled, and her laughter made me feel good. "Malcolm, my ex, was a natural Dom, or so he told me, but he was good. He took care of me. Our relationship was ideal, a textbook Dom/sub relationship. His dominance allowed me to be free. I was 100% devoted to him."

  She nodded, and her shoulders slumped.

  I perceived a switch; her happy memories turned to bitter regret.

  "What happened?" I asked.

  "If there were a Professional Dom Association, Malcolm would have declared himself the president. He let the control go to his head. He tested me all the time. He pushed my hard limits. It escalated. He shared me with other Doms."

  "Oh, Brooklyn. I'm sorry."

  "No, I mean. I did it. Willingly." She hugged herself. "Back then, I wanted to experience everything."

  "Yeah, but an unscrupulous Dom has a lot of power over a natural sub," I said with a hint of flattery.

  She looked up and bit her lip.

  "Unscrupulous." She crossed the room and sat next to me. "Malcolm was a manipulative bastard."

  I laughed, and she joined me.

  "What happened?" I asked.

  She recoiled into herself.

  "I mean, how did you get out of it." I shifted to face her.

  "Um, Paul saved me."

  "Paul." I picked at the couch cushion. "What do you mean?"

  "While in school, I worked for a company that staged places. I decorated new real estate property. We made the place look lived in. I staged an apartment for Paul, and we got to know each other on that job." She picked at a string on her jeans. Her fingers never stopped moving. "He flirted, and I flirted back, and we got to know each other over a few more projects. Nothing overtly romantic, all very innocent. Paul was such the opposite of Malcolm. It was nice. He knew I wasn't happy."

  She stood back up and went to the window.

  I stood up and leaned on the glass. I waited for her to finish.

  "This one night, I was meeting Malcolm at a bar in the city. Paul was there when I showed up. I'm not sure how he knew where to find me. But we were talking and laughing when Malcolm arrived. He didn't like it." Brooklyn tapped on the glass. "I introduced them, and I guess Paul just knew. When Malcolm stepped outside to take a call, Paul told me if I ever needed help, to call him. He said he liked me and would take care of me.

  "He left before Malcolm came back, but I got punished that night for disrespecting Malcolm. A few nights later, Malcolm had me meet him in the penthouse of an apartment on the Upper East Side. He said it was a private party. When I arrived, he basically let two guys do what they wanted to me." She whispered the last part.

  My heart broke. I wanted to reach out, touch her, and pull her close to me. I wanted to get Seth and Patrick and go kick Malcolm’s ass.

  "When they were done, one of the guys, I think he owned the place, told me to stay and clean myself up." She laid her hand flat on the glass. "He said he and his friend would be back later to continue the party. When I told him I had to leave, he said Malcolm promised them I'd be theirs and whoever else they invited for the rest of the night. I called Paul as soon as they left, and he's taken care of me ever since."

  "Brooklyn . . ." I touched the small of her back. She flinched and moved away.

  "Don't, okay. I am not saying this to hurt you, but I'm not going to cheat on my husband." She hugged herself. "I owe him better than that."

  I sighed and grunted a response.

  She tilted her face up to me. "I just really need a friend right now, and I don't want to have to stop seeing you because of something that can't happen.”

  I stepped away. I tried to keep my face neutral as my mind swirled with conflicting emotions. A image of my mom popped in my head.

  "Harrison?" she pleaded as confusion clouded her expression. "Please, tell me you understand."

  I collapsed back on the chair, my hands on my head. I couldn't do this to her. I couldn't allow her to cheat. I couldn't be that guy. I couldn't break up her family; the way someone broke up mine.

  I stood back up and walked toward her.

  She backed up.

  I held my hands up.

  "I get it. Don't worry." My legs weighed a ton. "To tell you the truth, I could use a friend, too."

  "Yeah," she said as relief washed over her face.

  "This has been a weird night," I said.

  "Unexpected." She nodded.

  I ran my hands through my hair.

  "Who thought at the end of the day I'd be glad you found Paul?" I said it but didn't mean it.

  She smirked and looked off to the side at the couple in the pool.

  "Yeah, well, if Paul knew where I was tonight, he would be pissed," she said.

  "Not exactly a fan of the community?"

  "No. Maybe for good reason." She shrugged her shoulders; in the oversized sweatshirt, she looked younger. "I mean the only real knowledge he has is based on what happened to me, which was my fault."

  "What those guys did to you." I turned her to face me. "What Malcolm did to you was not your fault. You know that, right?"

  "I know."

  "And from the look on your face tonight, you miss it," I said.

  "Harrison—"

  "I'm not trying to interfere in your life, but Brooklyn, it's part of your true nature." I cupped her cheek. "We want what we want."

  And I want you.

  Nine

  Brooklyn

  I headed back up to my apartment confused as to why I told Harrison my life story. He didn't ask.

  Talking to him made me feel better. It was nice to speak to someone who understood the fragile balance between a Dom and his sub.

  When I walked away, I figured that part of my life would be a part of my adventurous past. Something I did, not who I was.

  Now, I wasn't so sure.

  I tried to wait up for Abbie but drifted in and out of sleep.

>   "Brookie." Abbie poked her head into my room.

  I sat up. It was two a.m.

  "I'm up."

  She crawled into my bed.

  "How was your night?" I asked.

  "Fun." She yawned and pulled the covers up to her chin. "I did a scene with that guy. He was interesting. Strange."

  "Why strange?" I asked.

  "After the scene, he wanted my number. Asked if we could go out to dinner while I'm here." Abbie's voice sounded slurred.

  "So."

  "I'm like, dude, it was fun, but it's over." She kicked the covers and flopped on her stomach.

  "Maybe he liked what you put on him." I laid back down.

  "Well, of course, he did, but I'm not looking for a relationship." She shuddered as she spit out the word relationship.

  "Why not?" I pushed the covers off and sat back up. I reached for the light.

  "Jeez." She pulled the comforter over her eyes. "Turn off the light."

  "Abbie."

  "Brooklyn," she said. Her voice muffled.

  I looked out the window across from my bed. I hated this room. It was barely furnished, a bed with built-in nightstands and a chair by the window.

  I had asked Paul if I could stage it. At least, it would be all set when we sold it, but he insisted I not waste my time or money and concentrate on the new house.

  Abbie flipped the covers off her head and sat up.

  "What are you asking me?" She glared at me.

  "Did I make a mistake . . . marrying Paul?" I asked.

  “Way to change the subject, Brookie.”—Abbie rubbed her face in her hand—“I understand why you did it but maybe the reason isn't relevant any longer."

  My bestie had a way of making it plain.

  She was right.

  Why did that scare me most of all?

  "Are you ready for it?" I asked Abbie as we drove over to the house later the next day. We stayed up giggling and talking all night. We passed out sometime around five a.m.

  I turned left onto Turtle Creek.

  "These houses are insane." She had her head hanging out the car window. "You own one of them. I can't believe it."

  When we approached the house, I slowed down.

  "Almost there." I drove at a crawl.

  "Come on. I want to see it," Abbie pleaded.