Full Circle

by Lynne, Donya

  “The officials obviously have their favorite, and it isn’t us.” Her dad groused over the call, crossing his arms the way he always did when he was getting worried a game was already over.

  “Don’t give up on them just yet,” she said, entering the room.

  Dad smiled at first as he uncrossed his arms and motioned as if he was about to stand and hug her, but then he cleared his throat and settled back in his chair once more, glancing behind her at the TV. It was odd behavior. Kind of like her dad didn’t know how to act around her, anymore. As if he wasn’t sure what his place was now that she had Mark.

  “Where’s Mark?” he said, right on cue.

  “Working.”

  “This late?” he said disapprovingly.

  “We’re driving up to Chicago tomorrow for a charity benefit on Saturday his parents help plan every year, so he’s trying to get caught up before we leave.” She turned to Johnny. “Where’s Estelle?”

  “At home with the baby.”

  Karma took a seat on the other side of the couch. She hadn’t seen her niece in months. “You should have brought her. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  “Well, you haven’t been around.”

  She shot Johnny a scowl, and he held up his hands as if warding off an argument.

  “I’m just saying, Karma, if you want to see her, just come around more often.”

  “I would if Dad would accept the man in my life.”

  “Look, I’m trying,” her dad said. “That’s why I invited you both to dinner. But, of course, your guy couldn’t make it.”

  “That’s because he’s trying to be a good provider. Would you rather I get involved with a deadbeat.”

  “No, but—”

  “John,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Could you come here and help me, please.”

  In other words, Mom was nipping this conversation in the bud and would have a few private words with her dad before dinner to ensure everyone got along tonight.

  Sighing, her dad pushed out of his chair. “On my way, dear.”

  Johnny went back to watching the game, seemingly intent on not antagonizing her further, which was surprising, given their history. Johnny had been the ringleader who had riled the masses to tease, taunt, and humiliate her in school. And he’d continued hating on her into adulthood.

  Maybe he was finally growing up and turning over a new leaf.

  Karma listened to the quiet admonishment her mom gave her dad, as well as to the chagrined way his dad kept saying, “I know, dear, I’m sorry.”

  The way her mom kept her dad on the straight and narrow was actually kind of cute. They’d been married forever, and it was because they both knew how to bring the best out in each other, which was something she was beginning to understand in her relationship with Mark.

  Theirs was a dance of compromise and will, each highly motivated to make the other happy.

  Except Karma still felt like there was one area of Mark’s heart that remained closed off to her. One part of Mark’s soul that Carol still possessed.

  It was time Karma forced the issue. Not this weekend. Not with the benefit. She wouldn’t risk ruining that. But one night next week, she and Mark needed to have a long, difficult conversation. Difficult because this was sure to disrupt the comfortable intimacy they’d created in the last week.

  But she didn’t want comfortable. She wanted forever. She wanted all of Mark, not just part of him, and she didn’t want to compete with Carol’s memory, anymore.

  A few minutes later, her mom called them to dinner, and she stood and followed Johnny to the kitchen table, but even as conversation flowed more easily than it ever had, if not a bit tense at times, her mind still dwelled on Mark.

  He needed to address the situation and evict Carol once and for all.

  If he didn’t, she had a terrible feeling it would eventually destroy their relationship.

  Chapter 25

  The body is meant to be seen, not all covered up.

  -Marilyn Monroe

  “You want me to wear this?” Karma lifted the sparkling, midnight-blue mermaid dress. He had to be joking.

  Mark pulled his starched shirt on and began buttoning it as his gaze met hers in the mirror. “Yes.”

  “But . . . it’s backless.”

  “I know.”

  She turned her gaze to the dress again. “What I mean is, it’s extremely backless. As in, it will barely cover my butt.”

  When she glanced back at his reflection, he was grinning. “I know.”

  She let the garment fall over her forearm and eyed him suspiciously. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

  His grin twisted into a smirk as he tore his gaze from hers and looked at his reflection, turning up the collar of his shirt so he could drape his tie around the back of his neck.

  Resigning herself that this was her outfit for the evening, she crossed behind him on her way to the bathroom. He took her hand, stopping her.

  “Don’t wear any panties,” he said, catching her eye.

  Her mouth fell open. “But . . .”

  One of his thick eyebrows arched in warning. “No panties, Karma.”

  His command had exhibitionist fantasy written all over it. And the charity benefit was to be his playground. Their playground.

  She suddenly understood his reason for buying her this dress. As usual, there was a purpose—a plan—to everything he did. And as he went back to knotting his tie, the teacher persona fell more into place with every twist and swish of silver silk around his neck.

  “Yes, Mr. Strong.” She grinned and disappeared into the bathroom.

  * * *

  Mark grinned over his shoulder as she shut the bathroom door. Yes, Mr. Strong. She knew what he had in mind for tonight. Or, at least, she had some idea what he was planning, or she wouldn’t have given him that look and used that tone of voice right before closing the door.

  After checking his reflection one last time, he draped his tuxedo jacket across the foot of the bed, rotated one of the club chairs near the window so it faced the bathroom, and settled into it, crossing his ankle over the opposite knee.

  When she reappeared a few minutes later, his heart nosedived into his stomach. God, she was beautiful, her skin glowing in contrast to the midnight-blue fabric. He angled his head, admiring how the dress hung alluringly over her slight curves and caressed her narrow hips.

  “Turn around for me,” he said. “Let me see.”

  She sighed but smiled coquettishly. “I can’t believe I’m going to wear this dress in public.” Biting her bottom lip, she did as he asked and slowly spun around, allowing him to take in the whole package. The sweetheart neckline revealed more of her breasts than she was normally comfortable with, but that was nothing compared to the way the back of the dress plunged all the way to the upper swell of her perfect ass, baring her entire back.

  She faced him once more, shoulders drawn in shyly.

  “Come here,” he side.

  As she traversed the room, the fabric flared and swished around her feet. In her heels, the hem would barely whisper against the floor, which was exactly what he’d intended.

  When she stopped in front of him, it was with a subtle air of defiance, as if she were challenging him to resist her.

  If only she knew. Resisting her wasn’t even on the table. He’d chosen this dress expressly so he would be forced to covet her the entire evening and make it impossible for him to resist.

  He stood and slid his arm around her waist. His fingers eased just under the fabric barely covering her ass. Then his whole hand disappeared inside the dress to cup her right cheek. There was just enough give to the fabric that he could fondle her everywhere.

  “This is what I can do to you in this dress,” he whispered in her ear, squeezing. She shivered against him.

  Then he slid his hand lower until his fingers found her swollen, slick lips. He kissed her earlobe.

  “And I can do this, too . . .” He flicked one strap from
her shoulder with his free hand. The dress fell away to reveal her breast, her nipple budding immediately upon exposure.

  He could feel her fighting not to squirm as he slowly slid his finger inside her.

  “And you plan on doing this to me at tonight’s benefit?” she said, her voice trembling ever-so-slightly.

  “If I’m lucky.” He removed his finger and stepped behind her, nudging her toward the window as he eased the second strap off her other shoulder. The dress fell into a puddle at her feet, revealing her naked body. “As you can see, it’s very easy to take off.”

  Her body tensed as he pressed her farther forward, until she was only a few inches from the glass.

  There was another hotel across the street. Several of the windows had their drapes open, and in one room, a man was sitting at his desk, working on his laptop.

  “See that man?” he asked.

  She nodded. Her shoulders were tight, and it seemed as though she were forcing herself not to cover herself.

  “All he has to do is look up, and he’ll see you.” He reached around and cupped one breast, swiping his thumb back and forth over her nipple. “Anyone could open their curtains at any moment and see you standing here, naked, my hands caressing you, getting you hot.”

  Her chest rose and fell heavily.

  “Does that excite you?” he said.

  She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “And you want this?” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his erection against her bare bottom.

  She sighed. “Yes.”

  “You want everyone to watch me fucking you, too, don’t you? It turns you on. Gets you hot. Hotter than you thought it would.” He bent forward and nipped the back of her shoulder.

  She nodded, practically panting, her fingers curling against the glass.

  He caressed her naked abdomen and whispered, “I always knew you were an exhibitionist. Like me. So like me.” He kissed her shoulder, nuzzling, caressing. “We complement each other so perfectly, Karma.”

  If he searched a hundred years, he wouldn’t find anyone he was more attuned to. Karma fit him in every way, arousing not just his body but his mind, opening herself to every fantasy, every possibility. He’d never met anyone else as open to pushing outside her comfort zone, but Karma was a living sponge, absorbing all his lessons and wanting more.

  “Touch me . . . please,” she whispered.

  “I am touching you.” A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest as he pressed more firmly against her back and lightly pinched her nipples. “See . . . feel that?”

  She moaned and dropped her head back against his shoulder. “I know, but . . .”

  “Ssshhh.” He released her and took a step back. “You’ll get what you want.” He knelt and began slowly dragging the dress up her legs.

  She made a disappointed noise, halfway between a groan and a wordless curse.

  “You know,” he said, his fingers caressing her hips as he pulled the fabric higher, “I’m going to be hard all night with you in this dress.” He tapped her hands, and she held them out so he could maneuver the straps over her arms.

  He could feel her disappointment, as well as the waves of arousal pouring from her body. She didn’t want to put her clothes back on. She wanted to keep them off. To be pressed against the window and fucked until she screamed his name and left an imprint of her body on the glass.

  “Please touch me.” The plaintive, make-me-come plea nearly made him cave. His cock even twitched.

  Tapping into his reserved determination, he finished redressing her and adjusted the shoulder straps before checking the bodice.

  “Not yet,” he said, turning for the dresser and the black, velvet-lined jewelry box he’d set there earlier. “But soon.”

  He plucked the gold necklace from the velvet pillow and shifted back toward her before dangling the delicate golden links in front of her.

  She sucked in her breath. “What’s this?”

  “A gift.” He draped the necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp at her nape before kissing the sensitive stretch of skin.

  Then he pulled her back against him and secured her in his arms. His lips brushed the tender expanse of skin just below the hairline of her upswept hair. “When I touch you later—really touch you in the way you want me to—you’ll be so ready to come you won’t be able to stop yourself.” He turned her to face him. “It could be at the bar . . .” his hands glided over her hips, and he inched closer. “In a shadowed corner . . .” He dipped his head to kiss the side of her neck then brought his lips to her ear. “Or maybe on the crowded dance floor.”

  She trembled and gripped his biceps through his shirt as he slipped his hand under the dress again and squeezed her left cheek.

  “And I’ll touch you there . . .” The tips of his fingers came precariously close to stroking home base. “And you’ll come. Right where anyone can see you.”

  “I’m close to coming now.”

  He grinned. “I know you are. I can tell.”

  “Please . . .”

  He shook his head and pulled his hand from inside her dress then took a step back. “Patience.” He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up one of her shoes then nodded toward the chair behind her. “Please . . . sit.”

  She did, adjusting the chair so she was directly in front of him. He lifted her foot and let his fingertips whisper over her toes, along the arch, and then he gently grasped around the heel. “You have such beautiful feet.”

  “Said like a man with a true foot fetish.”

  “If only we had more time . . .”

  “We have all the time in the world.” Her tone hinted she was referring to more than just this evening.

  He met her gaze as he smoothed his palm down the top of her foot to her toes again. “Yes, we do.”

  * * *

  Mark slipped on her strappy high heel as if he were the prince placing the glass slipper on Cinderella’s dainty foot. After securing the leather strap around her ankle, he lifted her other foot and repeated. Then he stood, slipped into his tuxedo jacket, helped her out of the chair, and smiled warmly as he held out his arm. “Shall we, Miss Mason?”

  The arousal he’d awakened by putting her on display like a living mannequin still thrummed through her blood. He’d known just what to do and just how to goad her to send her salacious hunger through the ceiling. But this was Mark, the master of her body, heart, and soul. He simply seemed to know what she wanted and needed before she did.

  And this was why she knew . . . somehow . . . some way . . . no matter if he could kick Carol completely from his life or not . . . they would make it. Somehow, they would survive for the long haul. Because he knew her soul. And she knew his. She couldn’t imagine ever finding another man who could do to her the things Mark could. Who could set her on fire with just a glance, a word, a touch. A breath of whispered adoration.

  She looped her arm around his as he handed her the sparkling dark-blue pocketbook he’d bought to match the dress. Then he guided her out of their suite, his head held high. He was her proud suitor, eager to show her off to the world. And she was eager to be shown, the queen to his king.

  Carol be damned. Karma was in this to win. Mark was hers, and she would fight for him. She would find a way to pry Carol’s claw-like hold from his heart.

  She would never give Mark up. Not now. Not after all they’d gone through.

  He belonged to her.

  Chapter 26

  Keep calm and let go.

  -Author Unknown

  Keeping his hand at the small of her bare back, where it was never far from striking distance, Mark paraded Karma around the ballroom full of distinguished guests. They stopped briefly to visit with his parents then moved on to view this year’s exhibits in the exhibition hall before returning to the ballroom.

  Every so often, he teased her by poking just the tips of his fingers inside her dress, giving a little squeeze, ever reminding her of his power, never letting her forget ho
w quickly he could turn her from pleasant socialite to wanton sex fiend with just a stroke.

  He introduced her to everyone, paying particular attention to the men whose eyes fell to her neckline and then to her back as they passed. He enjoyed their envious gazes, which fell right in line with the fantasy he wanted to weave.

  “You’re enjoying showing me off a little too much,” she said coquettishly, leaning close.

  He pulled her even closer, ducking his head so he could whisper in her ear. “What can I say? It gives me perverse joy to see these men stare so appreciatively at what’s mine.”

  She arched her eyebrow. “Oh? So you own me now?” But the way one side of her mouth twisted in an amused smirk made it clear she knew he was only teasing.

  “Of course not.” His fingertips dipped inside her dress. “Just feeding the fantasy.”

  And the fantasy was to deem her his. To do with her as he pleased and parade her through the room like she was his personal sex slave. To create envy in those who couldn’t have her. But it was all just semantics meant to heighten the game.

  “Well, like I said, you’re enjoying this far too much,” she said, teasing him as he guided them to a cocktail table in the casino room with its dim lighting and red-dominated décor.

  “You’ve no idea.” He winked as he took a sip of his scotch. “I love that all these men . . .” He gestured with his glass, sweeping it right to left, “are looking at you.” He sidled closer and traced her bodice with the tip of his finger, letting it linger between her breasts. “But only I get to see what lies beneath this dress.”

  Her chest lifted as if pulled by a magnet, and she leaned into him. From the glint in her eye, she was hyper aware of how little she was actually wearing and where his fingertip was.

  “Only my eyes get to see you in the way these men can only fantasize about.” He outlined her collar bones with his fingertip, swirled it in the hollow between, and slowly burned a trail down her sternum as her breathing deepened, making her chest expand heavily with every inhale.

  The air between them quickly heated, coming alive, lust’s blazing tendrils wrapping around them.