Slow Satisfaction

by Cecilia Tan

  I thought about his e-mail though, how he’d hinted at the fact that he had business obligations that were cropping up unexpectedly. He’d hoped to retire from the music business, but now Ferrara Huntington was chasing him down.

  “I might know more after I talk to him,” I said. “He’s coming here.”

  “Ohio?”

  “Yeah. Here’s the thing, though, Becks. I don’t know if it’s going to work out between him and me.”

  She gasped. “Don’t say that! You spent all summer searching for him and you found him!”

  “And then I found out he was pulling the strings, trying to manipulate me,” I said. “Although he did just send me this e-mail apologizing.” Practically groveling. “He called me the ‘love of his life.’ ”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I know. But you know what? An e-mail and saying it face-to-face are different.”

  “Saying I love you?”

  “Saying I’m sorry.”

  “Ah, gotcha.”

  “So he’s coming here and I’m giving him a chance to make up with me.”

  “What if he doesn’t?” Becky asked, clearly alarmed by the thought.

  Before I could answer, I heard raised voices coming from across the hall. Jill and Mom were having some kind of argument. “I’ve got to go, Becks. I’ll call you once I know when I’m coming back.”

  I opened my door a crack and listened. It sounded like they were arguing about the missing jewelry.

  “I told you some of it was missing!” Jill said. “It was the first thing I noticed after the silver! Phil, the guy conning you, must have taken it!”

  “Well, why wouldn’t he have taken all of it, then?” my mother said with a huff. “Why just these pieces? Are you sure you or Karina didn’t take the pieces for yourself?”

  At that point I couldn’t stay out of it anymore. I stepped into the hallway. “Honestly, Mother! Jill and I don’t even wear jewelry! Why would one of us have taken it?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean!” Mom was sitting on the bed, a small silk jewelry bag in her hands. “Neither of you appreciates the sentimental value of a gift a man gives you.”

  “That’s not true at all,” I said. “First of all, for a gift to have sentimental value, it doesn’t have to come from a man in particular. Secondly, my generation demands honesty instead of jewelry from our partners. That’s way more valuable to me.”

  Mom sat up very straight, looking at me. “Well,” she said.

  I braced myself for a fight, but that was all she said. I suppose that was her way of conceding, or at least ending the argument.

  And just in time, too. My phone chimed with a text from Stefan. He and James had arrived at a hotel a few miles away.

  Four

  Love to Be Loved

  Jill made a dinner of mostly comfort foods and then Mom went to take what she called a nap, but we suspected she might be down for the count. Thinking about James and the imminent conversation with him had put butterflies in my stomach and I could only nibble some macaroni and cheese. After Mom was settled, while we were cleaning up, I told Jill he had arrived.

  “So the security expert and his boss are in town.” I opened the dishwasher and started putting glasses in.

  “Aha. And the boss? That’s your boyfriend, right?”

  Boyfriend sounded wrong, but I didn’t quibble. “The one I’m mad at, yes.”

  She paused in wiping down the stove to look at me. “You sound nervous.”

  “Well, I kind of am. I might be about to have the epic breakup fight of my life.”

  “But you might not.”

  “I did say I’d give him a chance to make it up to me.”

  “And you don’t think he will?”

  “I don’t know if he can.”

  Jill took the glass out of my hand and put it in the dishwasher herself. “You’re about to find out, though.”

  “I guess I am.”

  “Go meet him. It’s not even seven yet.”

  I dithered a moment more.

  “You can take the rental,” Jill prodded. “The keys are on the hook by the door.”

  “Better sooner than later,” I said resignedly. “I’ll go find out if he’s free.”

  Of course he was. My text to Stefan was answered within seconds with the hotel address and room number.

  I got my purse and the keys. “I’ll try not to stay out too late,” I told Jill. “I’ll keep my phone on, so if anything happens or you need the car, call me.”

  “I will. But, hey, KayKay,” Jill said as I opened the door to leave. “One of the ways you know you found the right one is not that you don’t argue. It’s that after you argue, things get better instead of worse.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  While I drove, it was nice feeling like there was someone on my side. For the longest time, no one had known about James except Becky. It was as if he was someone I’d made up.

  But he was real. He was here. My mother even wanted to meet him. It struck me then that he was even willing to meet her.

  James was ready to take off the mask I’d been trying to pry off him all this time. Was I really going to tell him, Never mind. Go back to England. Go back to your cave of anonymity. I’m done with you?

  Only if he kept up the bullshit. I made a resolution. If he tried to dom me into listening, if he held back anything, if he demurred or guarded himself, I was done.

  When I arrived in the lobby of the hotel, there wasn’t anyone at the front desk, so I breezed past to the elevator, checking the room number Stefan had given me.

  The room was all the way at the end of the hall, and I wondered if that made it special, or larger.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when I saw there was an envelope on the door. I tore it open, thinking if this turned out to be some cheesy “strip and kneel” set of instructions, I was going to cry, rip it to shreds, and leave.

  It wasn’t a cheesy set of instructions. Inside the envelope was the door key, as well as a handwritten note in firm, elegant script.

  Forgive me.

  Forgive me for my anger. You rouse such passion in me. Forgive me for my irrationality. You distract me and make me forget logic. Forgive me for ever questioning whether I love myself more, or you.

  I am truly naked before you.

  James

  I stood there a moment, my breath shaky. That was what he had said at the ball, when I’d insisted he tell me his real name. He’d thrown the condom away and said it was time I learned that he was truly naked before me.

  I’d thought he was merely making a play on words of some kind, his way of poetically saying that he wanted to come inside me, to be as close as possible. I had been so high on endorphins, pleasure, and the newness and intensity of it all that I hadn’t heard the edge in his voice, hadn’t realized that the entire time he had been fucking me he was in a downward spiral of panic and fear.

  Something clicked. That woman, Ferrara, had been trying to blackmail him into marriage, or something, all along. That made him wary of sex or relationships with anyone who knew who he was. Add to that how vulnerable his feelings for me had made him… No wonder he bolted when I forced his name out of him!

  That didn’t justify his actions, but at least I felt I was starting to understand them.

  I slid the key into the lock and opened the door. The room was dim. “James?” He was sitting on the corner of the bed, facing the window. The curtains were drawn and only one light on the far side of him was on.

  My breath caught as I realized what I was seeing. He was naked. A blindfold covered his eyes and his hands were bound behind his back. His feet were flat on the floor, knees spread, his balls enticingly exposed. His cock appeared to be rising. He looked like a statue, one of those Greek sculptures with perfectly muscled chest and abs, his cheekbones emphasized by the edge of the cloth over his eyes and his lips barely parted.

  I slid my sandals off and tiptoed until I was directly in f
ront of him. “James,” I said, louder.

  He startled, his shoulders giving a tiny jerk, his spine stiffening.

  “James,” I said more softly, drawing the “a” out longer. “I thought we were going to talk things over like real people.”

  He moistened his lips with his tongue before he began to speak. “If this isn’t real for you, Karina…” He swallowed and drew a shaky breath. Afraid. “Then I should go back to New York without you.”

  He’s afraid of sex itself, I realized. Each time we’d had it—full intercourse, I mean—he’d gotten angry at me and tried to run away. Because he was afraid of being so exposed? Or so connected?

  That he was presenting himself to me this way, vulnerable and bound, made my breath catch in my throat. “You’re saying I’m in control?”

  He swallowed. “I’m showing you.”

  “And if all I want to do is talk to you?”

  “Then I’ll listen.”

  “And if I want to interrogate you?” The idea, I admit, had appeal.

  “Then I’ll talk.”

  “Hmm.”

  I reached out and cupped his balls, then drew my fingers upward along his shaft, which quivered expectantly. A dewy droplet gathered at the tip. I ran one finger over it, drawing a slow spiral on the head of his cock, and this time as his breath stuttered in and out of him, it was with equal parts lust and fear.

  “Naked before me,” I said softly.

  “Utterly,” he said.

  “You did say you’d do anything to gain my forgiveness.”

  “I did.”

  I ran my fingertips up his shaft again. “Anything?”

  “Anything. Because I trust…” He swallowed again, struggling to speak. “I trust you.”

  The feeling of power that surged through me made me dizzy. Having seen what sorts of things went on at the “society” parties in London, I knew I could make him suffer for having made me suffer. If I wanted to, I could violate him, even humiliate him.

  But I didn’t see the point in doing that. So what if making him prance naked down the hallway with a carnation in his teeth saying “I’m sorry” two hundred times was well within my rights? That wouldn’t fix things between us. I could singe the hair off his balls with a cigarette lighter if I wanted to, but that wouldn’t heal the pain I’d felt.

  And being whipped or humiliated wasn’t what he feared anyway. He feared giving up control. He feared exposure. And at some very deep level, he was afraid of sex itself.

  Well, thanks to him, I wasn’t. I slid my panties off. “I’m wearing a dress, James. Would you like me to describe it to you since you can’t see it?”

  “I would like that.”

  “It’s blue. Not as dark a blue as that other dress; you know the one. A much lighter blue. This one is also shorter. It’s a casual dress, but it’s pretty, and I look pretty in it. At least, my mother thinks so. She thinks it’s a nice dress.”

  “I’m sure your mother is quite right.”

  I slid my fingers between my legs. Beyond the tuft of hair on my mons, I wasn’t surprised to find my shaven labia slick. James naked and at my mercy was one of the hottest things I had ever seen.

  I straddled him then, and he drew his legs together slightly to give me better support. I scooted forward until my lower lips were touching his cock. I rocked my hips, spreading my slickness onto him.

  I stood where I was, still astride him, and took his chin in one hand. I bent my neck to kiss him, eating at his mouth until he opened to me, not breaking away until both of us were whimpering. I lowered my body until the head of his cock was bumping against the inside of my thigh.

  “You would never lie to me when you’re inside me, would you, James?” I whispered, as I reached down to steady him with my hand.

  “I would never lie to you at all, Kar—” He sucked in a gasp as I impaled myself on him.

  “Hush,” I murmured in his ear. “I’ll want to hear it all, later.” I concentrated on relaxing enough to take him in as I slid lower and lower. Once I settled with him completely inside me, I reached down to circle my clit with two fingers. We both gasped as I tightened around him.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

  “I said hush,” I whispered back, and he bit his lip, chastened.

  I lifted myself up, drawing him out of me slowly, then lowered just as slowly. All the practicing I had done for the dance at the ArtiWorks had given me quads of steel.

  I fucked him that way, as slowly as he had once fucked me, forcing the penetration to be so gradual it was agonizing for both of us. I shifted so I could rub my clit against the rigid muscles of his abdomen as I went up and down.

  “So. Here’s your chance, James. You have until I come to make your case. To convince me I should give you another chance. And in case it’s not clear, you better not come first.”

  “Of course,” he rasped, breathless already. “First things first. I should have told you my name. But my name was only one of the secrets I was keeping from you.”

  “Oh, you mean like the fact that you’re an internationally renowned entertainment figure?”

  He swallowed. “Who told you that? Paul and Misha? Mandinka?”

  I slapped him lightly across the face, but even a light slap, delivered unexpectedly, shocked him when he couldn’t see it coming. He jerked inside me. “I figured it out on my own! Accusing my friends of betraying you is doing nothing to help your case, you know.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” He tipped his head back and gulped air. “Old habits die hard.”

  “If you’re very good, maybe I’ll tell you how I figured it out. Later. Continue.”

  “Right. You’re right. I should have told you sooner. I intended to tell you—I truly did. But I wanted to wait until after the party. I wanted to… to seduce you so thoroughly, love you so well, and master you so completely, that even if you had been in league with Ferrara or anyone else trying to get to me, that you’d come over to my side.”

  “Do you always have to have an ulterior motive for everything?” I blurted.

  “Not ulterior,” he said, as I rubbed against him. “Just multiple. I figured I wanted you to fall for me as hard as I had fallen for you. That it would quell my suspicions or foil any plots was a bonus. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you then, and I’m sorry I didn’t trust you this summer, as well. You surprised me.”

  “Was it really your idea for the Tate to hire me?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Not exactly? That doesn’t sound like raw honesty to me,” I said, lifting up high enough that I was threatening to disengage entirely.

  “The truth is not always simple!” He sounded desperate. “Remember that first time you met Reginald? At the Carlyle Hotel? I told him that day I thought he should consider hiring you for something. He laughed it off at the time. Then he read your dissertation. He had no budget, no intention of hiring anyone, but after reading it, he very much wanted to bring you over, so he asked me if I would fund your trip and your salary.”

  “He hired Tristan,” I pointed out.

  “Was Tristan receiving a stipend?”

  “Oh. I don’t know.”

  “I doubt he was. Or if he did, the funding came through his university. No, you were special, and Reg did not want to let you get away. So he asked for the money to fund your position, since you had been my suggestion. I said yes, if he’d do me a favor and keep an eye on you for me.”

  “Keep an eye on me?”

  “I don’t mean it in the ‘spy on you’ sense. I meant in the ‘make sure you were all right in London’ sense. I didn’t know you’d be moving in with old friends of mine, too!”

  “All right.”

  “So hiring you was my suggestion, but Reg was the one who decided to actually do it. My patronage helped it happen. But it was you, Karina, your knowledge, your skills that impressed him and made him want you there. He had no idea that I had my own agenda.”

  “Even when you sent a kin
ky playboy to fuck his submissives in the gallery in front of me?”

  James swallowed. “Did Damon George—?”

  “No, but he gave me the impression he might’ve. ‘Special, after-hours donor tour,’ hah. I should have known some kind of kink was involved. Which reminds me. When I got to London, Martindale showed me some photos you sent him. Was that all a sham? Or were you hiding from him, too, at that point?”

  “Was that how you made the York connection?”

  “Hey! I’m asking the questions here! Do you need to be punished to remember who’s in charge right now?”

  He clenched his teeth. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I… won’t do it again. What was the question?”

  “When you sent the photos to Martindale, were you hiding from him?”

  “Ah. Yes. Once I had his promise to take care of you, I cut off contact with him.”

  “Then why send the photos at all?”

  He drew a shaky breath. After a few moments, I ground against him. “Mmm, I’m starting to get close. You may be running out of time…”

  “I was out of my mind, Karina. Thinking about you, dreaming about you… Terrified that under it all you were in league with Ferrara but hoping, hoping desperately that you weren’t and that there would be some way to… to… connect with you. I sent him the photos under the guise of letting him know I was working on the commission, hoping maybe you’d see them, hoping maybe… I don’t know. I was desperate and unsure of myself.”

  “I knew the second I saw them that you were thinking about me.”

  “Obsessed with you.”

  “So obsessed with me that you sent Damon to test me?”

  “I admit that was one of my stupider ideas. The thought of him touching you, Karina, of him laying a finger on you…” He broke off, jaw clenched, his cock stabbing upward inside me.

  I remembered how he’d acted so very affronted to find me there at the club, how he’d stalked off, as if offended. To know that his own actions had put me there… My anger spiked again. He had stalked off not because he had been disgusted with me, but because he had been disgusted with himself. I shifted so that my knees were gripping his hips, the instep of my feet hooked inside his thighs. Now I could really grind my clit against him and drive myself onto his cock. I held on to his shoulders. “You know what I learned from Damon Georgiades?”