by Allie Quinn
I took in a deep breath. I absolutely could not let this man touch me. Not again. Not ever.
I’m pretty certain every cell of my being was crying.
He placed his hands, palm down, on the edge of my desk as he leaned closer. “Maybe you’re coming down with something. Maybe you need to take some time off for some tender, loving care.”
What I needed was for him to leave so I could breathe. His being in my office, with the frightening idea he might be the magic man who set me on fire, seemed to suck all the air from the room. I was either going to throw up or suffocate.
I looked down at his hands and breathed in an audible sigh of relief. He had manicured nails. The man I’d spent my magical Friday night with had strong, blunt fingers. Those fingers had sent me shooting to the stars. I looked at his lips and tried again to picture them in the pelting shower.
No, this wasn’t the same man who had changed my life. This was not the man who had shown me the true meaning of the word pleasure. I was fairly certain it wasn’t him.
I smiled. “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. Feel free to appeal all you want. But get out of my office. I have work to do.”
For the first time all day, I felt focused. After he was gone, I was able to read the case file, make heads and tails of it, as well as making a list of what I needed to find if I was going to go ahead with the case. The afternoon flew by as I studied reports and evidence.
“C-c-coffee?” James held a cup of steaming brew.
“Thanks so much,” I replied as he set the cup on my desk. He knew how I liked my coffee. I didn’t need to make certain he put in my favorite hazelnut creamer. He just did it. The aroma was teasing my olfactory glands.
“How’s it going?”
“Slow.”
“Do you think you’ll take the c-c-case?”
“I still don’t know. I think I need to read more.” I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose between my thumb and first finger. My eyes and brain were exhausted. Too many words, too much work, trying to decipher what might be truth from what might not be. “I think I’ll give it a rest and decide tomorrow.”
What I needed was a total body massage from the man behind the mask.
There he was, pushing again into the forefront of my thoughts, making me want him. My panties were instantly damp with desire. My hands all but itched with the need to slide my palms over his hard chest. My lips tingled. And my heart raced with the mere thought of him—his touch, his scent, his hardness. Memories rushed through me with such intensity I kept my eyes shut.
“If you don’t need anything, I think I’ll head home as soon as I put a few files away,” James said, interrupting my thoughts.
“That’s fine. I’ll be leaving soon as well. Thanks for all your help in finding information today.”
“I’ll f-f-find more tomorrow.”
“I guess I’d better go home and rest my eyes then.”
“You didn’t go through your mail.”
The stack of files and messages were still on the edge of the desk where I’d set them after Hillary gave them to me during the morning meeting. “I’ll glance through it as I enjoy my coffee. Thanks.”
A moment later, I had three stacks in front of me: one I needed to take care of first thing in the morning, one I could definitely throw away, and one where the items were a probable throwaway in the morning.
When I made my way all the way to the bottom of the stack, I found myself staring at a white envelope with my name on it, marked PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL. Holy shit.
My hand shook a bit as I tore open the envelope. The card inside was simple and plain white. The handwriting was curvy and loopy. And familiar. I stared at it without reading it for a long moment. Either my mystery pleasure man worked here—or at least he had access to the office—or he’d sent this via messenger, and Hillary had simply put it in my stack. We did have three messenger carriers who delivered here every day. I was just glad I hadn’t seen this during our meeting, where anyone with eyes would have seen the excitement on my face and asked about it.
I was doubly glad after I read it. I could never share this with anyone. And to think it had been there in my morning mail, right in front of everyone, sitting on a stack of mostly junk mail.
Monday 7 p.m. at the Castle. Do not stop at the gatehouse. I will be waiting as before.
Direct and to the point. It was signed with a loopy capital R, which stood for more than Raven. It stood for my Racing Heart. I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter of six. That barely left me enough time to get ready. I should shower. Change. What should I wear? What else did I own that could be considered anywhere near sexy? Raven had kept the matching bra and panties I’d bought for my first occasion. Would attire be supplied again?
I left the mail and my office, almost forgetting my purse. I dashed back in and snagged it.
Most of the office was empty. I think Winston Harbrook was still working on his computer, but I didn’t stop to look as I headed for the elevators. Even though the building was probably close to empty at this late hour, it took the elevator a frustratingly long time to arrive. I stepped on, doing my best to breathe and stay calm. I was trying not to feel like a woman crazed with need for a mysterious man’s touch. The doors started to close.
A hand reached in, triggering the motion sensors and making them open again. It only added to my frustration. I needed to get home and ready.
James stepped into the car with me. He gave me a quick smile. “F-f-finally leaving?”
I glanced at my watch. There would be time for a two-minute shower as long as traffic cooperated. “I have an appointment.”
“An appointment, huh?”
“Yes. I completely forgot about it,” I lied.
“Oh.”
The doors finally closed, and we began our descent ten floors.
Just as the five lit up on the floor number display above the door, there was a jolt that nearly knocked me off my feet. James was quick to grab me and keep us both standing.
“Whoa.”
“What the hell was that?”
Neither of us had any idea. But the elevator was stopped. We were stuck.
I groaned out loud. “You’ve got to be kidding.” I couldn’t help myself. I began punching all the floor buttons on the panel as my heart continued to plummet to the first floor without me.
“It must be one heck of an appointment.”
“It is.” I pressed the alarm button, and a high-pitched bell rang over our heads, sounding distant yet still piercing. It stopped when I stopped pressing the button. “Damn.”
I was never going to make it by seven at this rate.
Hell, at this rate, I might not make it at all. “What if we’re stuck in here all night?”
His grin added to my already mounting frustration. “Stop worrying. I have my cell. I also have the phone number for maintenance.”
I hadn’t even thought of my cell phone. I chalked it up to my mind being in a fog with my eagerness to get to Raven, to taste his kiss, to feel his touch…
“Are you okay?” James’s touch sent a zing pulsing through me and grabbed my attention in a heartbeat.
“What? Yes,” I answered quickly.
“You looked a little lost there for a minute. You don’t suffer from c-c-claustrophobia, do you? You aren’t going to go c-c-crazy, are you?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Good.” He made a phone call.
I listened halfheartedly as I thought of the time I was missing at the Midnight Castle. At least I wasn’t stuck in the elevator alone. I mean, James was tall and dark, not bad looking if I could get past the big black-plastic-framed glasses he wore. He even smelled pretty good most of the time. He just wasn’t what I think I wanted. He was quiet, aloof, hesitant to touch. He kept to himself, despite the great job he did for me. I suppose it was his stutter that made him that way. What I wanted was Raven, a man who obviously wasn’t hesitant when it came to touching a woman—me.
Raven was definitely a man willing to jump in and kiss me just because he thought I needed it. James was so nice; I doubted he’d ever touched anyone without asking permission first.
But he certainly knew how to save the day when it came to finding case information or getting elevators moving. Within ten minutes, we were stepping off on to the ground floor. I barely brushed him off with a “See you tomorrow.”
Maybe I should just meet Raven in the shower. What a dilemma. Go home and change and be late, or meet Raven on time dressed ready to face a judge.
Next time, I planned to read through my mail sooner.
Chapter Eight
Raven
Fuck it all to hell.
I should never have issued such a quick invitation. I should never have delivered it to her at her office. I should stop watching her every move.
Now I see she’s running late, rushing to get to the Castle. To me.
At the very least, she might get a traffic ticket. Hell, she could get into an accident.
As I watch her race to her car, I see the error of my ways. I’m going to have to come up with a better way to meet up with her. I watch her stumble in the parking lot; the heel broke on her shoe. My heart stops, but then I am vastly relieved to see that she managed to keep from falling on her face. “Fuck,” I muttered out loud. At this rate, she might not even make it to her car, so she didn’t have to even worry about getting a ticket. I needed to slow her down, calm her down, but how to do so without giving myself away?
I suppose I should be glad for the broken heel. It held her attention. If she had been looking around, she probably would have seen me watching her. If I simply approached her, not letting her know who I really am, she’ll just rush more to get to her appointment on time after I leave her.
I pulled out my nonwork phone, just in case she decided to do a little investigative work and see if she can discover who I am through my number. I sent her a text. It wasn’t the best solution. It wasn’t quite a lie, but I had to do something, and it was the best I could come up with before she put her foot to the gas pedal.
I’m running late and won’t be able to be at the Castle by 7. So don’t rush. I should be there by 8. Waiting for you.
From where I stood, I saw her visibly let out a big breath. At least now I know she won’t feel like she needs to drive like a speed demon. I head to my own car. I’ll be at the Castle long before eight.
My phone dinged to signal an incoming text.
How did you get my number?
You filled out paperwork I’m privy to it because I invited you.
That wasn’t a lie either.
I climbed into my car, knowing she might be looking around, wondering if I watched her. I’m not a creeper by any means. I’m a man who has watched out for her for some time. I have always cared about her. I’ve wanted her from the first moment I got close to her, got to know her. Now that I’ve touched her, I know she holds my soul in the palm of her hand.
I watched her leave the parking lot as my own feelings for her threatened to overwhelm me. For so long, I’ve wanted nothing more than to touch her, kiss her, feel her tight heat. Now that I have, I’ve discovered that it’s not enough. I’ve never before taken any relationship out of the Castle. I’ve never taken my mask off. But I want to with her.
I want to take her to dinner.
I want to spend a day with her.
I want to meet her for lunch and give her a break from her usually hectic day.
For now I put it all on the back burner. For now I have her all to myself, with the mask. I plan to enjoy every moment. And although I never want to see her hurt or in an accident, I’m excited to know she is rushing to meet me.
She arrived at the Castle just before eight. The little black dress she has on enhances every part of her curvy body and makes me hot with need. God, I really want to lift the garment over her head and toss it aside. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes bright beneath the mask. She wanted me with equal abandonment. Hell, I feel it pulsing through her. Her lips are painted deep red, a color that sparks my dick to life. I want that red lipstick on me—on my lips, on my chest, on my cock.
I have to tell myself again that I need to slow the pace. I don’t want her rushing for me anymore. I don’t want to scare her or burn her out.
So I poured every ounce of patience I had into the kiss I gave her. Slow. Sweet. Perfect. It was an I’m-so-glad-to-see-you kiss. It was an I’m-fucking-glad-to-have-you-back-in-my-arms kiss. She was delicious. Tasting her again was better than the first night. I had no idea how that was possible, but it was. She tasted of peppermint. She smelled of some exotic flower. And she was warm where she pressed against me—everywhere she pressed against me.
As I kissed her, deeper and deeper, I caressed her, needing to touch her, wishing I could melt into her. The skin of her thighs was warm, inviting, soft. I slid my hands up under the hem of her dress and spread my palms over the smooth curve of her sweet ass.
She wore no panties.
Delightful.
As I touched her, a tingle slithered right into my hands and up my arms. I broke the kiss to whisper in her ear. “No panties. I love it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Knowing I’d be touching her again, and more, gave me the strength to let her go now. I took her hand and held it tightly as I led her through the great hall.
“It’s quiet here tonight.”
“There isn’t much action during the week,” I explained. “Does that bother you?”
She shrugged. “I doubt it, since you’re my action.”
Her answer made my heart pound. I loved being her action. I planned to remain her action. “I like your answer.”
“Where are we going?”
“I have something special set up for us tonight. While I know you’re turned on by an audience, I want to be alone with you.”
“All right.”
With her hand tucked in mine, I broke one of my own cardinal rules. Friday night after showering, we’d spent the rest of the night in one of the private rooms for members. Now, I led her up the spiral stairs to a room in a wing of the Castle that was quiet and away from the sexual fun and games. It was part of my private apartment. Because she was new here, she would not know that this wing, the stairs we’d just climbed, were off-limits to everyone but me. No one was allowed here, and I didn’t bring others here, ever. Even for meetings. I met clients in my office downstairs or in the restaurant for a business dinner. But never here. When I opened the door, she stared, her mouth open in a perfect O of astonishment. I stared at her, drinking her in as a man dying of thirst gulps down water. She was lovely, with her dark waves falling softly over her shoulders, which were bare due to the fact the shoulders of the dress rested on her arms. The front of the dress dipped between her breasts in a deep V.
While I still wanted to simply rip that dress over her head and have her naked, I also wanted to take my time. Not slip my hands down the front of her dress like some teenager needing to cop a feel.
I’d spent nearly twenty minutes lighting the candles, almost a hundred of them, before she arrived. It was the only light in the room. There were eighteen on the table alone, lighting the beautifully set table where dinner waited. Yes, I’d stopped and picked it up on my way home and had done my best to keep it warm. The dining room at the Castle was not open during the week. I wanted to have dinner with her. I settled for this. It was pasta with fresh bread and salad, served on dishes I’d swiped from the closed dining room.
“Dinner?”
I offered her my best grin. “I thought if I took you to a restaurant with us wearing masks, someone might ask questions.”
“Are all the private rooms like this?”
“The private rooms can be anything they need to be,” I replied. It wasn’t a lie. Special requests were made every weekend. I did my best to accommodate my members. Dues were paid according to wants, desires. People paid for fantasy, and I tried to give it to them.
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“It’s lovely.”
It was her turn to kiss me. And hell, with a hot kiss like that, I didn’t need dinner. But she did. Especially since I wanted her to be distracted until I gave her what I hoped to be dessert for both of us. She was so in awe over the table and candles, she didn’t notice the dungeon table on the far side of the room or the red-and-black pleasure whip I had waiting there.
I held her chair for her and waited as she sat down.
“So you’re a kinky romantic.”
I leaned closer to her. The softness of her hair touched my cheek. “Very to both.”
She giggled. The sound of her laughter was like the warm sun on a cold day. I hoped to make her laugh a lot more. As well as make her sigh with pleasure and gasp and scream while she came.
Dinner was a mixture of pleasure and torture. I loved watching her eat. I loved knowing my having dinner for her made her happy. I wanted little more than to feed her, kiss her, and fuck her right there on the table. The entire time we ate, I was hard as a fucking rock. It took all my energy to ignore it. I don’t remember eating hardly anything. I watched her mouth as she chewed. I still longed to watch her red-covered lips around my cock.
I settled for holding her hand.
“How was work?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes, I do.” I really did. I wanted this part of her, this intimate share-your-day-with-me part, just as much as I wanted to be buried inside her, just as much as I wanted to be lost in her heat. I realized then that I wanted every part of her. I wanted to peel away every layer until I knew her inside and out, until I reached her heart.
She shared her day. She told me about helping abused kids. She told me about how it scared her sometimes, not knowing if she was doing the right thing, that it was sometimes hard to see who the real criminal was. I listened. I could listen to her forever and never grow tired of her voice. I knew, as well as she did, she could tell me anything within the walls of the Castle. I could never repeat it. Her words were safe here.
I let her supper settle for fifteen whole minutes before I casually asked, “Are you ready for dessert?”