by M. Leighton
And then he stops.
It takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s not going to continue. And when I do, I’m both confused and frustrated. I feel as though I was on the verge. But now I’ll never know.
When Alec comes to his feet at the end of the chaise, he doesn’t say anything at first. We simply watch each other. On the inside, I’m throwing a childish tantrum, stomping my foot in peevishness. But on the outside, I’m as calm as still waters.
Finally, Alec comes around to the side of my chair and reaches for my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you showered.”
He hauls me to my feet. And I let him. My limbs feel heavy and…dissatisfied, as if my every muscle is weighted down.
I let Alec lead me inside, through the bedroom and into the bathroom. I watch as he turns on both shower heads and tests the temperature a couple of times before he walks back to me.
“Let’s get your mind on something else. Like me,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he’s on the verge of a smile. But it never materializes. His expression stays just as intense, even when he reaches down and loosens the towel at his hips and lets it fall to the floor.
I want to look down so badly. But I don’t. I keep my gaze trained on his as he backs toward the shower, leading me along.
When he turns to step inside, I allow my eyes one short flicker down to his perfect butt, but then I bring them quickly back to his wide shoulders. He moves in front of the spray then turns around and pulls me toward him. He does it so quickly, I can’t see anything. But when he snugs me up against him, I can certainly feel what I didn’t see.
His rigid length presses into the softness of my belly, making me tingle from the waist down. His hard chest rubs against my sensitive nipples, making them ache for his attention. And his eyes burn down into mine, full of challenge and determination and a passion I’ve never before encountered.
“I want to watch you bathe,” he says softly. “And I want you to watch me.”
With that, Alec reaches for two bars of soap, handing one to me. I take it and he backs up a couple of steps, creating enough space between us that we can move freely.
His eyes roam over me from head to toe as he rolls the bar of soap in his hands. I mimic his actions, finally feeling free to look him over.
And he’s just as flawless as I expected him to be. His broad shoulders taper to a trim waist and a thin trail of hair that leads downward. His hips are narrow and, between them, a long, thick shaft of masculine perfection.
I see one of Alec’s soapy hands slip into my view. It glides down the inside of his hip and moves in to what I’m focused on. I can’t look away as I watch his fingers wrap around the base of it and stroke slowly toward the tip.
“You did this,” he whispers. “This is all for you.”
My heart skips in my chest as I watch his thumb circle the engorged head before he tightens his grip and makes his way down to the base again. Up and down, I watch him travel the length several times before I realize that I’m warm and achy and out of breath.
I jump when Alec takes my right hand and guides it toward him. Eagerly, I wrap my fingers around him, reveling in the hot steely feel. He moves his hand over mine and, together, we explore his body. He plays my fingertips over the bulging vein on the back side, and he plays them around the satiny tip.
I hear his breath coming faster and I look up into his smoky green eyes. They’re ravenous. Every bit as ravenous as I feel.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask, not knowing how much of this is part of his plan to fix me.
“What do I want you to do?” he repeats, his jaw flexed and his teeth gritted. It’s obvious he’s struggling to keep a hold on himself. It’s also obvious he’s determined to do it. “What I want for you to do is let me tie your hands behind your back,” he says, reaching forward to twist his fingers into my hair and pull my face toward his. “What I want for you to do is let me force you to your knees. What I want for you to do is let me jam my cock down your throat until I fill your mouth with come.” His breath is hot on my face, hotter than the steam from the shower. His eyes are hard, his words brutally honest. “But what I’ll settle for,” he grinds, pivoting until my back is pressed to the cool shower wall. I feel a tiny thread of fear shiver through me and then it’s gone. “Is for you to let me watch you wash every crevice of your body. And try not to imagine that your fingers are mine.”
His eyes bore hot holes into mine for a few tense seconds before he bends his head and takes my lower lip between his teeth. He nips it, hard enough to get my attention, but not hard enough to hurt. The sensation lands in my belly like a bolt of lightning.
With a growl, he pushes himself away from the wall and turns to put his face into the stream of water from the shower head. After a few seconds, he turns back to me, to where I’m still standing helplessly against the wall, and starts to lather his chest.
“I suggest you get started,” he says blandly, one brow rising in that way that I love.
So I do.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO- Alec
Penance. That’s what this is. I’m punishing myself for the things I’ve done and Samantha is the community-service I feel compelled to perform.
At least that’s what part of me feels like. The part that would rather be working day and night to coerce her into leaving her fear behind and embracing my world.
But it’s not my world anymore. It can’t be. I haven’t let it be for a long time.
Until Samantha.
She was too much to resist. I let myself down and I scared the shit out of her in the process. So I’m making amends. As a doctor, as a man and as a decent human being, I’m keeping the chains on the darker side of myself and I’m doing what I need to do to help her, to give her a shot at what she calls a normal life.
I’ve brought her to the edge of orgasm at least two dozen times in the last two weeks. Anywhere and everywhere. At her house and mine, in the car, on the sand, and everywhere in between. I won’t let her climax because I want to make sure she’s ready, that she’ll actually do it and not feel like a failure to me and to herself. I think I could’ve made her come that day on the balcony, but I didn’t want to push her too far too fast. And I suppose there was the small chance that I might’ve been too arrogant, that she might not have. And that would’ve been a disaster. So here we are, two weeks later, and I’ve got the worst blue balls known to man.
I could’ve found someone to take the heat off with, but that feels like a huge betrayal to Samantha. So I haven’t. She trusted me when I told her I’m safe and clean and that I’m not sleeping with anyone else. She got back on the pill to prove it. I don’t intend to betray that trust either.
But my patience is running thin.
I take the turn that leads me one step closer to my office. I don’t really have to go in today, but I feel like I need to take a break from Samantha. Every day that we spend together, her allowing me to explore her both physically and emotionally, is a day that her past loosens its grip. I can see it in her body language, in her smile. I can hear it in her laugh. She’s happy. She’s free. But every day we spend together is also a day she might be getting herself into trouble and I don’t know how to stop it.
I think she’s falling in love with me. Despite my numerous warnings, I don’t think she’s even trying not to anymore. And I don’t know what the hell to do about it.
I guess I could just disappear from her life. Stop all this before it turns into disaster. But I can’t. I owe her.
Or is that just an excuse because I’m falling for her, too?
I’ve considered that possibility a couple of times. I have my doubts. Very serious doubts. Even if she were perfect for me in a dozen other ways, there are ways she could never satisfy me. And I think it would be completely irresponsible of me to go forward as if I didn’t know that and then one day break her heart because I’ve had enough.
No, it’s better to do it sooner rather than later.
And sooner is fast approaching.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE- Samantha
“You know you should run. I’ve told you countless times before that I’ll hurt you, that you’re not safe with me,” Mason reminds me.
I reach up to stroke his smooth cheek with my fingertips. “Stop trying to push me away. I’m not leaving you. Can’t you see that I love you? It’s too late for me. The past is the past. You are my future.”
I take a step back and curl my fingers in the neck of my shirt, tugging sharply until the buttons down the front give way. I know that doing this will push me past the point of no return. I know that if I bare my throat to him, that if he bites me one more time, there’s not going back. For either of us. I’ll be joined with him forever. Even if he leaves me. But that’s a chance I’m willing to take.
I turn my chin to one side, exposing the throbbing vein in my neck.
“Take it, Mason. Take my blood. One more time. I want to feel your teeth inside me. And then I want to feel you inside me. Bite me. Then make love to me.”
As has become my habit since meeting him, even though Alec is not a vampire, I find myself drawing uncanny (and probably unhealthy) parallels between my life and Daire’s, between her dilemmas and mine.
There are no supernatural curses for me to contend with. There are no blood ties that I must worry about. But I feel like the more time I spend with Alec, the more permanently bound to him I become. Some small part of me is still aware that he could and most likely will be leaving me eventually, but that part is not nearly large enough to stop the free fall I’ve found myself in. Alec is practically perfect for me in every way.
Unfortunately, the one way that he’s not will probably be the one thing that takes him away from me. Permanently. Like Mason hungers for blood, Alec hungers for a sexual satisfaction that I can’t provide. I don’t know how strong the urge is, but I have a feeling it must be pretty intense. He’s had to fight it for years.
But he doesn’t always win.
I shake off the ever-niggling worry and head for the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. Hearing me puttering around, Jinx hops up on the barstool and arches his back for some attention.
“You hungry, too, boy?”
His purr is drowned out by the ring of my cell phone. I take it from the pocket of my shorts. My heart does a little extra tap when I see Alec’s name on the screen.
“Hi,” I answer cheerfully, unable to keep the smile from my voice. I feel like smiling constantly when he’s around. And often when he’s not.
“Hi,” comes his gruff reply. His voice is like velvet, smooth yet coarse at the same time. “I’ve got something to pitch to you. Feel free to say no if you’re the least bit uncomfortable with it.”
“Okay,” I say easily. There was a time when I’d have felt anxiety about a conversation that started this way. But not now. I know Alec would never hurt me. Not on purpose. And certainly not sexually. He’s proven that a zillion times over.
“I’ve got a thing tonight. I had forgotten all about it. I don’t really want to go, but it would really look bad if I didn’t. It’s a big schmooze being hosted by one of my bigger clients.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Oh, I can assure you, it will be anything but fun.”
I laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. You have a way of keeping things… interesting.”
His pause speaks volumes. “Here’s the thing: The woman that’s hosting it is a founding member of the club. I’m sure there will be a few other…patrons there, too.”
An ache begins to form behind my eyes. “So what kind of a…schmooze is this?” I assumed he meant some kind of social slash political thing, but he might be using some sort of sexual lingo I’m not familiar with.
“Oh, it’s nothing like that. It’s…no, it’s nothing like what you’re thinking. It’s just that sometimes they make inside jokes and comments and…references, things that I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“If that’s all you’re worried about then don’t. As long as no one tries to drag me off into a padded room, I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“All right then. Pick you up at eight.”
“I’ll be ready. And Alec,” I say, stopping him before he can hang up.
“Hmmm?”
“Thank you for being so considerate.”
“No problem,” he says flatly. “See you tonight.”
I stare at the phone long after Alec is gone. His frustration is on the rise. He’s having a harder time hiding it. I don’t know how much longer he can go on like this.
As I sit thinking about him, that tiny niggling feeling that Alec will soon be leaving becomes more than just a niggle.
********
I fiddle with the strap of my wristlet. Alec has been quiet all night. Since we got in the car, he has seemed like he’s angry about something. I’ve asked nonchalantly if he’s all right and, each time, he’s assured me he’s fine, that everything is fine.
But I don’t believe it.
I’m standing quietly at his side as he explains his services to the CEO of a privately-funded substance abuse hospital. Listening to him, it makes perfect sense that he’s actually a psychiatrist, although these people don’t know it. They see him simply as the man that runs the company that offers the services. That’s another benefit to his unorthodox online therapy sessions—anonymity.
I have to give him credit. Alec has made two brilliant careers for himself while revealing to very few his face or his identity. No doubt the employees and social contacts that know him as one don’t know him as the other. Except for the rare case, like the doctor he saw at my father’s function, the one who knew his father.
“Alec Brand, glad you could make it.” I feel Alec’s fingers tense on my lower back at the smooth, feminine voice.
I turn to see a stunning woman standing behind us. I’d guess she’s somewhere near forty, or at least ten years older than my twenty-six and close to ten more than Alec’s thirty-one. Her long, straight hair is rich auburn and her bangs are cut severely, like Cleopatra’s. Her eyes are the palest of blue. They have a sleepy, sexy look that fits her voice to perfection. She beams an…interested smile in Alec’s direction.
“Carla,” Alec says as he bends to press his lips to her cheek. She leans in to him, stretching along his length like a cat. All that’s missing is the purr. “So good to see you.”
Carla looks behind Alec and nods at the man he was speaking with. He nods in return and then subtly turns his attention to someone else, leaving Alec to focus on her.
“I’ve missed seeing you,” she says with a wink. Alec did tell me once that, although he hadn’t “indulged” in quite a while, he did still like to visit the club and stroll through the rooms occasionally. Evidently it was enough to keep the monster at bay.
For a while anyway.
I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing now, if he’s really going without.
Alec doesn’t respond, just gives her a cool smile.
Carla looks to me and nods then returns her attention to Alec. “Is this the reason? You’ve found better entertainment at home, have you?”
“Careful, Carla. Someone might think you’re jealous,” he teases lightly.
“What if I am?” she asks. “I never thought anyone would keep you from coming to watch me.”
It’s that phrase that triggers a memory. From the night Alec took me to the club. The woman on the bed in the first room, the one who looked at us when we stopped in the doorway—that was Carla. Her smile is unmistakable.
Alec says nothing, but I feel his fingers flex against my back again and I can see the tick of the muscle in his jaw.
“It was good seeing you, Carla. Excuse us, please.”
With that, Alec applies just enough pressure to urge me to move. We walk around Carla and he guides me to the bar.
After ordering us a drink, Alec says nothing. But he doe
sn’t really have to. It’s obvious that he’s angry. On edge. And I’m beginning to think this might be why. I wonder if being around these people, whoever the others might be, makes his…appetite worse, makes his hunger less manageable.
When the bartender sets our drinks in front of us, Alec tips his glass back and drains it in one long gulp. I see his jaw twitch again.
“I’ll be right back,” he says tightly.
I watch him stalk away. I’m baffled by the turn this night has taken. I see Alec open a door to his left and disappear through it, leaving me at the bar with too many questions and too few answers.
Insecurity rises to the surface first. All the old feelings—feelings that I’m not enough, feelings that I’m not normal, that I’ll never be normal—battle to drag me down into a feeling of hopelessness and depression. But something stronger rises. It rises fast and high, to overwhelm and eclipse. It’s the desire to make Alec happy, to soothe his anger, to ease his frustration in any way that I can. He’s given up his pleasure to help me. At this point, I owe him.
Before I can think too much or talk myself out of it, I abandon my drink and follow Alec. I slip through the door that I saw him use. It leads to a flight of stairs. I mount them as quietly as I can and, at the top, find myself on the balcony that overlooks the ballroom.
I scan the long, narrow space for Alec. He’s standing at the half wall, looking down at the crowd below. I can see ire in every taut line of his body. For whatever reason, be it frustration or something deeper, he’s fighting for control.
I walk to where he is. Without a word, I lay my hand on his shoulder. He turns to look at me. There are sparks flying from his eyes.
“This isn’t a good time, Samantha.” His voice is a low growl.
“I know,” I say softly. I look down at the people below. None of them seem to be paying attention to us so far above, making my rash, impulsive decision an easy one.
I turn my back to the half wall and I let my wristlet fall to the floor. Alec’s eyes flit to mine and stick. He watches me intently, angrily. His teeth are gritted so hard, I can almost hear them grinding.