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Two Billionaires in Vegas: A Halloween MFM Romance (Love by Numbers Book 1)

Page 10

by Casey, Nicole


  My parents kept my bedroom for me for whenever I came to visit, set up just the way it was when I was still in high school. The same Jurassic Park and Batman posters on the wall, the same faded navy bedspread. It felt like walking into a time capsule which, in a way, was exactly what I wanted. I wanted to go to a time when everything still made sense and things weren’t so fucking hard all the time.

  Collapsing into my slightly dusty twin bed, I slept for the next fourteen hours, not waking until my bladder was urgent. I had a dreamless sleep. Or, if I had dreams, I didn’t remember any of them. I was thankful for that because that meant no nightmares and Erin.

  I’d dreamed of her almost every night since the reception, of the way she smiled at me and the way she moaned when I touched her and the genuine concern and compassion she had in her heart for a fuckup like me.

  For several days, I hung around my parents’ apartment, not eating much and sleeping a lot. I was exhausted all the time and felt like I just couldn’t get enough sleep no matter how many hours a day I slumbered away.

  I knew that I should call Jackson and let him know that I was alright, but I felt so guilty that he didn’t get to be with Erin anymore because of me. Maybe with me out of the picture, they would come back together and have the opportunity to make a real go of it.

  Guilt gnawed at me for not getting in contact with Jackson, but the shame I felt paralyzed me each time I tried to call him. It wasn’t long before I took the battery out of my phone so I’d be less tempted to get in touch.

  After the seventh day of moping around my parents’ apartment, I rented a car and decided to complete the tour of my former life. I started at my middle and high school, parking in the parking lot and remembering how many long hours I’d spent there studying and participating in after school activities.

  I drove to the gym in which I was taught MMA. I was sorry to see that the building had been torn down at some point and made into condos.

  I drove to Columbia and drove around the campus. I’d gone there for one year back when I was eighteen, but I’d hated every moment of it. I didn’t fit in and only stayed as long as I did because of my parents.

  After I dropped out of school, I felt lost, one day winding up at the recruitment office. That was my next destination. I was sorely tempted to stop inside, wondering if I’d recognize any of the faces inside. But thinking about that turned my thoughts to Afghanistan, something I really didn’t want to contemplate at the moment.

  There was just one place left to go on my tour: the BDSM dungeon I’d walked into when I retired from the marines that changed my life forever.

  I popped the battery back into my phone so I could navigate from Columbia to the dungeon. Like always, the traffic was terrible, but I got there eventually, parking the car in a parking garage and walking the rest of the way there.

  It was nothing like the one we built in Las Vegas. There was no club section filled with dancing people when you walked inside. There was just a lounge and a few private back rooms in which you could live out your fantasies.

  For being in a city the size of New York City, it was small. The vast majority of the people were regulars and all new to each other. They had sex parties together once or twice a month, taking turns hosting them. They were friends, a family.

  I walked in and saw a few people in the lounge. They smiled at me, each wearing various leather outfits. I mustered up a smile to return.

  “Well as I live and breath,” I heard distinctive southern voice gasp. “Caleb Treadway!”

  I looked at the doorway to the back rooms and saw Mistress Valentine, the owner of the dungeon, standing there, grinning widely at me.

  Mistress Valentine was the woman who introduced me to the world of BDSM when I first wandered in, lost and unsure of myself. I’d had thoughts of being tied up ever since I was stationed overseas, but hadn’t worked up the courage to try it until I was back in New York.

  She was a gorgeous woman, nearly as tall as I was in bare feet. In heels, she was at eye level with me. She’d always been a little curvy and I could tell she’d gained a little weight since I’d last been to her dungeon. Her long auburn hair fell around her in waves, contrasting nicely with the black catsuit she wore. Her eyes were light blue. I thought they were a little cold when I first met her, but I quickly learned she was a caring, compassionate woman. She liked to take care of people, to make them feel good, and she’d done that for me too.

  Standing there in the doorway, Mistress Valentine was as sexy as ever. I couldn’t deny that I’d fallen a little bit in love with her once upon a time.

  She rushed over to me, wrapping me in a hug. I hugged her back, relishing in the touch of another human being.

  “It’s so good to see you, Caleb,” she said when she pulled back. Her hand rose to my cheeks, holding my face in her hands to examine me closely. “Handsome as ever,” she said, giving me a small smile. Lowering her voice so no one else could hear her, Mistress Valentine added, “And looking as lost as you did the first time you walked in here.”

  Against my will, I felt my eyes water. “Oh, Caleb,” she said. I could see the sadness on her face. “Let’s talk in private.”

  She grabbed my hand and led me back to the office she kept. I’d never been in there before, though I’d seen glimpses of it when she’d walked in and out of it. It was neat and tidy. Small, with just enough room for a desk, bookshelf, and couch.

  Mistress Valentine led me over to the couch and gestured for me to sit down. I did.

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d never offer one of my guests a drink, but I think I’ll make an exception this time,” she said. “You look like you could use one.”

  “Please,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt.

  Nodding, she unlocked a desk drawer and pulled out a half-full bottle of whiskey and two glasses, pouring a few fingers worth in each.

  “I hope you didn’t want ice,” she joked, handing me a glass and sitting next to me on the couch. “I’m fresh out.”

  I gave her a wane smile and took a sip.

  “So what prompted you to stop in today?” she asked, laying a gentle hand on my knee. “What got you so worked up?”

  Honestly, I didn’t mean to tell her everything, but it all tumbled from my mouth before I could stop myself.

  By that point, she had both her arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly in her arms.

  “That’s a lot,” she murmured sympathetically. “You’re dealing with a lot.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said, my face buried in the crook of her neck, ashamed that I was crying so much.

  She rubbed my back and said, “It sounds like Erin needs time. She experienced a real tragedy when her dad took his life. You told her you sometimes thought about killing yourself, which is a lot to put on anyone, especially in a relationship so new. She doesn’t want to relive any of that tragedy. But in time, she might realize that she’s able to accept you the way you are.”

  I wanted to believe Mistress Valentine so much. I wanted to believe Erin would come back, but I just couldn’t. After seeing firsthand how weak I truly was, Erin would never come back and I couldn’t blame her one bit. In fact, I felt proud of the fact that she could take care of herself, that she was strong enough to put herself and her needs first.

  “And if she doesn’t come back,” Mistress Valentine said in a soothing voice, “then you’ll move on. It will hurt like hell for a while, but it will lessen with time. Your friend Jackson will be there for you and you’ll be able to heal together.”

  I was thankful she didn’t mention meeting someone new because I couldn’t even contemplate that. The thought made my stomach churn. I didn’t want anyone new; I just wanted Erin. I wanted her to be with both Jackson and me. I wanted us to be a family together.

  Once I’d settled down, Mistress Valentine told me I could take a nap on the couch. I was too exhausted to leave and was grateful.

  “I wish I could stay wit
h you right now, Caleb,” she said, laying a kiss on my forehead, “but I have an appointment with a guest in a few minutes and she needs me.”

  “I’ll be okay,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Besides, you’re right, I really do need a nap.”

  She smiled and kissed me softly on the lips.

  * * *

  When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was that my brain felt better. I was in a calmer place than I was before I closed my eyes. The pain that filled my heart wasn’t gone, but I felt like I could deal with it for the time being. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was in a dungeon and felt at home, or if it was this particular dungeon, but whatever it was, I felt safer.

  I stared at the ceiling, just thinking, when Mistress Valentine came back to her office.

  She smiled when she saw that I was awake. “Good, you’re up. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  I swung my legs over into a sitting position, giving her room. She sat down next to and asked, “How are you feeling? Did you get some sleep?”

  “I did actually,” I said. “Thanks for letting me crash.”

  “Of course,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You’ve always known I had a soft spot for you, Caleb. I just want you to be content with your life.”

  “I appreciate that,” I replied. “I appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me over the years.”

  “I know you do,” she said. Then she grinned. “And I appreciate just how much you’ve paid into the dungeon over the years. It’s helped keep me in business all this time.”

  We both laughed.

  When our laughter subsided, Mistress Valentine turned to me and asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you, Caleb?”

  I nodded. There was definitely something else she could do for me.

  * * *

  I was strung up, completely naked with my arms suspended above me.

  Mistress Valentine had a black leather flogger in her hand and circled me. “You tell me that you want this, but I’m still not convinced,” she said, a haughty tinge to her voice. She was in full-blown mistress mode and I was living for, feeling better than I had in weeks.

  I strained against my bonds, desperately wanting her to hit me. I wanted to feel it. I wanted to feel something real. Pain was real. Pain was a way to feel alive.

  “Mistress Valentine,” I begged, “I really, really want it.”

  “Pathetic,” she said, a look of disgust on her face. She trailed the handle of the flogger down my body, making me shiver. “You clearly don’t care. And if you don’t care, I might as well throw this in the trash,” she said, waving the flogger in my face.

  “But I need it, Mistress Valentine,” I cried. I needed to be smacked, hit, spanked so badly that I was nearly in tears.

  “Well,” she said, tapping her chin as she thought. “I suppose I could give it to you at least once.”

  “Yes!” I shouted. “Yes, please, just once!”

  “Alright,” she said, walking behind me.

  My anticipation rose until I felt the sting on my back where it landed. I drew in a sharp breath, feeling my endorphins begin to release. Though Mistress Valentine only promised one, she slapped the flogger on my back a second time in the same exact place. My body thrived on it, on the pain. It felt so good and I wanted more.

  “Mistress Valentine, please, again!”

  She was done being coy and slapped on my back once more. I was in Heaven, I truly was.

  My cock was so hard, but I felt no real urge to cum. I just wanted Mistress Valentine to keep flogging me until she was tired. But she’d been a mistress for a long time and I knew there was no way she’d do that. If she’d expended all her energy, that meant the scene would end sooner than intended.

  She moved on to another spot on my back, flogging me on the same spot several times. The technique of hitting the same place over and over helped increase endorphins, making them grow and the pain grew.

  After she decided I’d had enough, she put the flogger down on a table with the rest of her toys. Then she opened a drawer, pulled out a safety candle and a lighter, and walked toward me.

  “Oh, God, yes,” I murmured, feeling my face flush.

  I hadn’t engaged in wax play since the last time Mistress Valentine had done it on me.

  When she stopped in front of me, she lit one of the candles and, together, we watched it burn for a few moments, watching melted wax form.

  She brought the candle to my chest and dribbled a little wax down my pectoral.

  I sucked in a breath when the wax touched my skin. Though both flogging and wax play both cause pain, they’re two very different sensations.

  Mistress Valentine moved to my other pec and dribbled a little more wax this time. By the time the candle neared its end, I was so keyed up, wanting something more, something different.

  I remembered back when I used to come to Mistress Valentine’s dungeon, she’d had a special for Halloween, something I’d never tried before.

  Wanting to bury my problems, my internal pain, deeper and deeper, I eagerly asked, “Do you still do the Halloween special?”

  The special was a form of bloodplay, vampirism. I didn’t know much about it, but in the moment, I wanted it.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Caleb,” she said, her voice terse.

  “Please,” I begged.

  “I don’t do bloodplay,” she replied. “I never have. It isn’t something I’m comfortable with.”

  Thrashing against my handcuffs, I shouted, “You’re a fucking domme and can’t do bloodplay? Or you just won’t do it on me because I’m so goddamn pathetic?”

  She took a step back, her eyes narrowed. “This scene is over,” she said. “You’ve had enough.”

  “No!” I screamed. “No no no no no! Please, you can’t do this!” Lowering my voice, I said, “Mistress, you can’t do this. I need more, I need so much more.”

  Huge tears sprang into my eyes, and Mistress Valentine’s face softened. She laid her hand gently on my face and said, “That’s exactly why it has to end, Caleb. You know that. In your own dungeon, you’d never let someone continue if they were in the state you’re in right now.”

  She was right, damn it, she was right. I’d put both the physical and mental needs of someone in my dungeon before any of their desires. But I didn’t want her to be right, now when it came to me. I wanted to hurt.

  I started crying in earnest and she quickly tossed the nub of the candle aside and grabbed the keys to the handcuffs from her pocket. As soon as she unlocked the second cuff, she reached for me. I collapsed to the ground, dragging Mistress Valentine with me, and sobbed on the floor as she held me.

  Erin

  The second I hung up with Jackson, I threw on some jeans and a T-shirt, grabbed my keys, and floored it to the address he gave me. He lived in a nice condo on Lake Mead Blvd. which, on any other day, I would have admired. But not that day, not when Caleb was in trouble.

  I knew I couldn’t blame myself for his actions, but it didn’t stop me from feeling guilty about the turn things had taken since we broke up.

  After parking my car, I ran to Jackson’s building and saw that he was already waiting for me by the door.

  I threw myself at him, wrapping him in a fierce hug. Despite my terror for Caleb, I couldn’t help but enjoy the way it felt to have Jackson’s arms around me again.

  When we broke apart, I asked, “What are we going to do, Jackson? It’s been a week. How will we find him?”

  Jackson took my hand and said, “First, we’re going to scour all the dungeons in Las Vegas looking for him.”

  And we did. Normally, dungeon masters never would have divulged if a particular person was currently in their dungeon or not but, as the owner of a dungeon himself, Jackson had some sway. Especially when he explained to them Caleb might be in trouble.

  My hope dimmed a little more each time we went to a dungeon only to find out that he wasn’t there and no one had seen him recently. No one we talked to even ha
d an idea of where he might be if he wasn’t in any of the dungeons in town.

  It was close to dawn by the time we left the last dungeon Jackson knew about. He told me it was possible there were more dungeons in the city, seedier places that perhaps didn’t view BDSM with the care it needed, but he didn’t know where any of them could be. Neither did any of the people we’d talked to that night.

  “Where will go now?” I asked when we got back into the car.

  “Let’s check Caleb’s house. We can look around, see if there are any clues that tell us where he might be.”

  Caleb lived in a cute white house on El Valle St., his yard decorated with desert plants.

  Once the car was parked, Jackson and I leaped from it and ran to the door. He pulled fumbled for the right key, finally found it, and unlocked the door.

  Caleb’s house was dark when we walked inside, a little stuffy, and eerily quiet. We quickly searched each of the rooms for Caleb, and even inspected the closets, but he wasn’t here. There were no telltale receipts laying around, no messages waiting for us on the dry erase board he kept on his refrigerator.

  Jackson found Caleb’s laptop stashed underneath the couch and placed it on the coffee table. I sat next to him and watched as he opened it.

  “Do you know Caleb’s passwords?” I asked.

  “We both do,” Jackson said, his fingers flying as he typed it in.

  “Oh thank God!” I said, feeling the tiniest bit of relief fill me.

  The first thing Jackson did was log onto Caleb’s account for his cell phone provider, trying to locate his cell phone. It was nowhere to be found.

  We both released frustrated sighs. “What about his credit and debit cards?” I asked.

  “Oh, good idea,” Jackson replied, typing in the web address of Caleb’s bank.

  We were disappointed to see that there’d been no transactions in more than a week.

  “Does he have any other cards?” I asked.

 

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