by Allie Quinn
I was at work, yet I was unable to go on as if nothing had happened, either in terms of my newfound perspective regarding Raven and me as well as what these girls, these cases, meant to me. Regarding my new case, I’d read the police report, taking in words like ‘touched my breast’ and ‘patted my backside.’ I tried to read between the lines. I tried to get into the girl’s head. The truth was in this day and age, every complaint had to be investigated. And sometimes investigations were enough to ruin careers and lives. I had to be very careful.
But I was finding it hard to concentrate. Memories of Raven touching me or sliding that little fringy thing over my body kept getting in the way. Then I would think about sharing my secret. How had he managed to reach that part of me so easily? And I thought about how he’d held me while I cried. I don’t even remember moving to the bed, but I woke up entangled in his arms in a big one. He woke me with plenty of time to get breakfast and a shower before work. He’d cooked me an omelet. I’d had boyfriends, but it had been a very long time since a man fixed me breakfast. When I questioned him about the private rooms having a kitchen, he’d merely pointed out that the one we shared did. He kissed me in the parking lot, long and deep, and almost made me cry again. Especially when he suggested we not meet again until Friday.
Was he putting me off after hearing what a coward I really am?
Now I felt torn about giving him something I’ve never given to anyone else. Perhaps I should quit doing my job. Find something easier than prosecuting perverts. I’m just flat-out tired of trying to come up with a trick that makes drawing the line between right and wrong easier. There isn’t one.
Maybe I was just burned out after the last case. Maybe I should have taken a few days off after last Friday’s verdict.
I closed my eyes and covered them with my palms, trying to breathe. One minute, this case sounded a lot like an I-hate-my-teacher-because-she-gave-me-an-F. The next, I was pretty sure the teacher needed to be taken to the town square and put in the stockade for ever placing her hands on a student. Oh, and I read those words pillar of the community. Damn, I hated those words. How come the village troublemaker was never the accused? It would make my job so much easier. But this teacher was the volleyball coach and the Sunday school teacher. For a long breath, I considered becoming an ambulance chaser.
“Lunch?”
Agnew had stepped into my office, and I hadn’t even noticed.
“You look like you could use a break. I’ll buy,” he offered.
For a long moment, I stared at him, trying to drown in the blue of his eyes and feel…
Something.
Anything.
What I felt was nothing. But lunch did sound good. Maybe what I needed was some fresh air. “Sure. Why not?” I put down the file and reached for my coat. The fall air was crisp. It was my favorite time of year. When we reached the street, I took a deep breath of the dry, cool air. “I love fall, don’t you?”
He looked around before meeting my gaze. “I guess. It bothers me though that winter is just around the corner, and I hate that we might get freezing rain.”
He made sure he matched my stride. That was nice. “Where are we going?”
“We could go to Arthur’s and sit out on their heated patio.”
Lunch was, well, just lunch. I do like Arthur’s and being outside with colorful leaves sailing through the air like snow. Over an Arthur’s all-time favorite pulled-pork sandwich, I asked, “So how come you’re being so nice to me?”
“I’m always nice to you. We’re just usually on opposite sides, and it’s hard to see.”
“Right.”
“I wanted to tell you how much this last case impressed me.”
“You’re surprised you lost, aren’t you.”
He offered me a grin that made me think again that maybe he is Raven. Then as the expression disappeared, I wasn’t sure.
“Not surprised, no. You kicked my butt. You’re great at your job. I just wish we could be on the same team. You exhaust me. Sometimes, I just get tired of sparring with you.”
Who was this man? Certainly not the same man who came into my office yesterday angry and threatening to appeal. The thought that maybe he really was my masked lover touched me like a soft breeze. I shook my head. No, I refused to believe it. But maybe he was being nice now that he knew my deep, dark secret. Now that he knew what I fought for every time I opened a case file…
No, I really couldn’t see it.
He walked me back to the courthouse after we finished eating. By the fountain out front before we reached the revolving door, I stopped him. It was now or never. I had to be certain. If he was my masked lover, I would never again drive through the gate at Midnight Castle. Damn, I’d have to quit my job and move to another city. There was no way in hell I could practice any law in or around Charleston, where I might have to face him or get close to him or possibly be stuck in an elevator with him.
“Agnew?”
“Yes?”
Before I could hesitate long enough to stop myself, I leaned over and kissed him. Full on the mouth, holding on to it for long enough to tease him with a bit of my tongue.
There was not one single spark, not one single ounce of familiarity, not one single ounce of desire.
He pulled away as if I’d touched him with a burning stick. “Alex? What the hell? And while I hate losing to you, I have to be honest and tell you that felt weird, like I kissed my sister or something.”
That was exactly how it felt to me too.
He wasn’t my lover. I could have jumped up in the air and clicked my heels together. I merely smiled at him. “It was just a kiss for luck,” I lied. “For the next time we spar. Thanks for lunch, and thanks for keeping me on my toes.”
“You’re welcome.”
We went inside together, he to his office and me to my own. I felt as if my heart was soaring. But if my lover wasn’t Agnew, then who was he?
I wasn’t so certain I needed to know. Not now, not anymore. As long as he never quit touching me, I didn’t care who he was. I hoped I could get through the next few days doing my job until he held me in his arms again.
Raven
What the fuck was that? A kiss?
Did that really just happen? Yes, it did.
I didn’t know how much longer I could wear this mask, how much longer I could keep myself hidden from her. Maybe she needed me to teach her a lesson when it came to kissing men on the street.
I thought touching her at the Castle anonymously would be enough to see me through my waking moments. I now know it’s not.
Chapter Ten
Alexandria
Four grueling days.
I counted out the hours as I pulled into a parking spot Friday night at nine. It had been eighty-eight hours since I’d left this place at five on Tuesday morning. This afternoon, I’d handed off the case I’d looked at all week. I simply had a bad feeling about it. It was too much a she-said, she-said case with very little evidence, and I didn’t feel I could devote my time to it. The case file I’d left on my desk a few hours ago and planned to tackle next week was more my speed.
I climbed out of the car, my heart pounding as much as it had a week ago. He was there, hopefully waiting for me and longing for me as much as I longed for him. I vowed if I even had an inkling he was putting me off, he and I were going to have a serious heart-to-heart. He’d used the word connection, and dammit, I did feel a connection. He was not going to sever that because of my past.
I put my clothes and purse into my locker, putting on tonight’s “costume,” which turned out to be a crepe-feeling, deep-blue, sack-like garment. It tied at my right shoulder and left the other shoulder bare and covered my naked hips to just above my knees. It was sweepy and flowy and felt soft against my skin. My mask was now as much a part of my face as my nose. But I considered buying a few in different colors.
I stepped out of the women’s room and was taken in by all the activity. I understood now the style of dress. The
re was a slave theme happening. It seemed there were many more ropes, chains, and whips in action than there was last week. I no longer felt anxious watching. I liked it.
Most of the men were shirtless, and if they didn’t have a whip in their hands, they had whips looped on their hips.
Where was Raven? I looked around the large room. I didn’t know how I might react if I saw him sucking or fucking or even kissing anyone else. I supposed we should discuss that. I didn’t want to share him. I didn’t know if I could handle anyone else touching him or making him come.
I didn’t see him. I saw three familiar people on a nearby square bench enjoying a three-way oral party. What were their names? Cleo? Suzy Q? Cleo had bright red hair this week and had covered her face with a black-and-white mask. Her lipstick was deep red, and some of it remained on R.R.’s—yes, that was what I remembered he was called. R.R., for Rough Rider—dick after she took her mouth from him and looked at me.
“Would you like to join us?”
“Not right now, but thanks anyway. I’m looking for someone.”
She stroked R.R.’s dick and smiled at me. “Raven, right? Aren’t you Raven’s woman?”
I wanted to think I was. “Yes.”
“I think I saw him head toward the round table. If you get tired of playing with him, feel free to come back with us.”
“Okay,” I lied.
I headed toward the round table, where his world and mine had first collided. Moisture pooled on my thighs with the idea he might put me back on that table and do it again. My nipples grew hard in anticipation of his hands, his lips on them. I forced in a deep breath and licked my lips as I searched for him. I might not be able to hold back. I might throw my arms around him and…
I didn’t see him.
But then I felt him, recognized him as he stepped close behind me, leaned in, and whispered in my ear.
“Here you are. I’ve been waiting for you.”
A familiar hot tingle sizzled through me. I turned and faced him, wanting nothing more but his hands on me, his mouth on me.
I kissed him, feeling bold with my need for him.
But I felt something new in his kiss. Although he wasn’t hesitant and there was definitely fire that surged through me, there was something more, something I couldn’t readily define. Perhaps he wanted to move on to introducing me to new things, especially given the slave theme for the night. There was a definitely stronger feel of dominance in the large room, coming even from the people who weren’t using whips. When I leaned back, I saw the same burning hunger in his blue eyes. I was drawn to his fire, and I trusted that he would never hurt me. Given his scars, I had a suspicion the whip looped at his hip was for costume only.
“I have a special treat for you tonight.”
Why did he look like a wolf about to devour his prey? Considering I think I’m his prey. “A treat?” I wasn’t certain how to approach him. He was exciting and just a bit frightening. “Am I going to like it?”
“Have you had any complaints so far?”
I hated that he answered my question with a question. He was being plain evasive, elusive, and mysterious. Don’t get me wrong, the mysterious part of him turned me on almost as much as he did with his lips.
“No. But can you give me a hint?”
He took my hand. “You like rope, right?”
Another question answered with a question. “Yes. You’re still being very mysterious.”
He led me to a darker corner, away from the round table. Not too far away a naked woman was tied spread-eagle facedown on one of those big-cross tables. A man wearing a hood that covered his entire face was using a leather-fringe, handheld flogger on her. Her butt cheeks were pink, as were the back of her thighs and her lower back. As Raven led me past, I watched how the man caressed her with it before giving her a whipped swat, making her gasp.
“Does she like that?” I whispered to him.
“If she doesn’t, she’ll use her safe word, and he will stop. Everything here is about pleasure, Alexandria, for everyone. I know I promised it to you, but technically it is promised to everyone.”
I still watched them, watched the way the man caressed her before he swatted her. Raven had caressed me in the same loving manner, and it had made me hotter and needier than ever before. He just never slapped with it. The memory made my lower body hot, moist, and needy. I needed him to kiss me. I needed him to touch me. Hell, I needed him to put his dick inside me. I needed… His voice brought me out of my hot, erotic dream world in a heartbeat.
“Put your hands above your head, please.”
I did as he asked, watching him. He was a man on a mission. He reached above me, and I looked up and saw leather shackles hanging from the ceiling. My mouth turned dry as he buckled one then the other around each of my wrists. While I’d been tied to a bed and had been tied up in bed, I’d never been confined or tied up standing up out in the open like this before. The idea, sensation, of this left me feeling more vulnerable than ever. This was an entirely new exposure, more of a leap of faith than the blindfold of Monday night. Standing before him with my hands bound, I was completely at his mercy, and others around me would see it too. I had no choice but to trust him. I wondered just what he might have in mind with me standing up. I felt my heart pounding. His eyes were an odd mixture of blue fire and ice.
He really was on a mission, as if he was trying to make a statement with me. As he pressed close to me, working the buckles, I felt it in him as much as I felt the heat of him.
“Are you angry with me?” My question hit him as he finished with the last of the buckles on my wrist. The fact he didn’t readily deny it simply led me to believe maybe he was. But why?
He finally met my gaze. Then he gently brushed the pad of his thumb over my lips. “I am not angry. What I have planned will take a little while. You’ll be standing in one spot, one position, while I do it. Having your wrists shackled helps hold your arms out of the way, so I can get to you easier. If it becomes uncomfortable or your arms go numb, let me know.”
“Okay.”
“Now, no more speaking. Just feel.”
I tried to relax, tried to do as he asked. I took in the entire place. Yes, it was slave night, and a lot of people, both male and female, were being punished in some sort of erotic method. Maybe he was just playing along with the rest of the scene. I wish he would have warned me, so I could have been better prepared, although how, I’m not sure. I started to ask him about feeling no pain, but I clamped my mouth shut. He’d already promised me no pain. I planned to take him at his word.
Besides, if I didn’t like what he did, I planned to put that safe word thing to the test.
He met my gaze. Now his eyes were nothing but intense. He was a man on a deeper undertaking than before—if that was possible.
From a nearby table, he picked up a large hair clip. Gently, he gathered all my hair—which I’d worn in a tight coil all day but had taken down while getting ready to meet him. I’d hoped twisting it up while it was wet this morning would give it the appropriate amount of wave so it would look sexy when it fanned out around me on a pillow tonight. Apparently he didn’t plan to lean me back on a pillow anytime soon. His fingers brushing the back of my neck sent a shiver through me.
I couldn’t help but let out a delicious “Mmm…” as he followed that touch with a soft butterfly kiss before he came back around to face me. Were his eyes a darker blue, filled with need and passion?
I thought so.
He said nothing as he reached for the single knot at my shoulder that held my dress in place. When it was untied, he leaned down and licked the skin that was revealed. I thought I might come unglued and gasped at the contact. Slowly, he peeled down my dress, revealing my breasts, brushing over them with the back of his knuckles. His light touch was electrifying, making my nipples stand up as if reaching for more. I might have tried to cover myself had my hands not be bound. I bit my lip to keep from protesting. He’d promised me nothing but ple
asure, and I expected as much now. I had to trust him to give it to me. I had to get over the feeling of exposure. After all, half the people around me were naked. I closed my eyes briefly, gathering strength, finding it in his heat, in his closeness, in his light-as-a-feather touch that sent fire burning through me. I felt the whisper of fabric as the dress landed on my feet.
When I opened them again, I found his intense gaze holding mine like a vise. Without looking away, he reached out to the nearby cart and grasped a length of coiled rope.
I swallowed hard, feeling as if my heart moved to my throat. He already had my hands bound. What more could he do with the rope?
“Have you ever heard of shibari?”
His whispered words slid over me like a caress. I shook my head, unable to speak.
“It is artful bondage. It won’t hurt.” He leaned closer and whispered hotly against my neck. “It will stimulate you.”
More than he already did? I wasn’t sure I could handle it.
But I certainly wanted to find out.
“Okay.”
“Relax. This is going to take a while.”
He tied a knot in the rope, then slid it between my legs and began to loop it around me, across my backside, around my waist, securing it with another knot. At first I was merely intrigued. He moved with certainty, looping and twisting as if he were making something artistic out of macramé, but the rope was soft against my flesh.
And the knot between my legs…
With every tug, every movement and twist on the end he held, it subtly moved the knot, which I quickly discovered was against my clit.
Son of a bitch, it was making me crazy. I couldn’t stand still. Is this why he bound my hands, so I was forced to stand still? My hooshie was on fire. My nipples were painfully hard. I was covered with gooseflesh, but I was hotter than hell. And wet as a river, needing to come, but needing him to do more. The soft, continuous stimulation was almost more than I could stand. I felt like all I could do was suck in breath after breath just to keep my knees from buckling.
“This is a variation of what’s called a knotted crotch rope tie,” he said. “What do you think? Do you like it?”