Truly Helpless: A Nature of Desire Series Novel

by Joey W. Hill

  The young men wore tanks and tees over beltless pants that hung way off their asses. A fashion decision that always made Regina roll her eyes, not just because it was so idiotic-looking, but also since she knew better than most that it had likely been co-opted from gang styles in prisons. Exactly what every young man should aspire to be—a felon. Though at least it did have one benefit. The police loved the style because it made the criminals far easier to catch during foot chases.

  Fortunately, these young men sported no gang markers. The fondness with which she overheard one of them call the elderly woman Grandma, and how the others emulated his respect to her, suggested they wouldn’t dare come to her door with any evidence of gang involvement. She probably gave them hell regularly about pulling their damn pants up. It made Regina smile. She’d seen firsthand too many young men destroy their lives before they’d barely started. Evidence that those at-risk had some sharp-eyed guardian angels trying to keep them on the right path was always encouraging.

  And speaking of at-risk souls… She only had time for those quick impressions before Marius saw her, proving he’d been keeping his eye on the entrance to Tea Leaves. Saying something to one of the men in apparent farewell, he crossed the street to where she was unlocking her car.

  She’d been surprised to see him, but was even more bemused by the effect his presence had on her. She wouldn’t have chased him down, not in a million years. If he wouldn’t come to her, she would have considered it done, no matter how interested she was in pursuing it further. This couldn’t go in the right direction if he wouldn’t make the effort, regardless of his motives. But now that he’d made that step, she let herself savor the possibilities. And him.

  He was wearing a pair of blue jeans with a brown belt, worn to soft gray edges. A black button-down shirt was tucked into the pants. His hair was a bit rumpled, as if by the wind tousling it as he drove, since it was a warm day and he’d probably had the windows down. He had his sleeves rolled up so her gaze was drawn to the points of his wrists and length of his forearms, sprinkled with dark hair.

  With time and some discipline, a man could develop a body that met all the physical measurements for hotness, but that didn’t translate to sexy. Sexy meant that he could make a woman think of sex just by moving and breathing, because his sexuality was bone deep, a vital part of his masculinity.

  It was in their gait, their attitude. Regina had seen overweight, middle-aged men with receding hairlines at The Zone who possessed the quality, and muscle heads with tight asses and big dicks completely lacking it.

  A sexy man understood what aroused a woman. He knew because he paid attention, and because getting that response was what he craved to drive his own arousal. It was a trait all sexy men had, be they Doms, subs or vanilla.

  Most importantly, it couldn’t be contrived, even by someone like Marius. He might be able to exaggerate it in a deliberate way, but the substance had to be there for the exaggeration to work. You might be able to fool yourself, boy, but you can’t fool me. I know you want me to be turned on by you, not because you’re a conceited ass, but because you want to give me pleasure.

  It might be wishful thinking, but she thought if he could let himself, he’d approach sex the way she reached for a good book. With the intent of making it a slow experience to savor, pulling her into it so the outside world became far less real than what was in the pages. A place she’d never want to leave, but when she did, it would stay with her like a memory she never wanted to lose.

  Such thoughts allowed her not only to enjoy the view, but imagine all the ways such a body could move in service to her.

  He stopped a few feet away as Regina turned and leaned against the car door, looping her keys around her fingers to clasp them in her palm. She could ask him what he was doing here, but that would assume his presence had to do with her, and he’d have to work a little harder for that opening. Instead, she nodded across the street. “Friends?”

  “Just met them. I walked over from Marguerite’s to see what the game was. And because the lady, that’s Mrs. Grant, she wanted to know what I was doing loitering around Marguerite’s place without going in. She wanted to know if I had un-Christian thoughts in mind.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Probably.” His lips tugged. “But not the kind that would cause Marguerite or anyone here any problems.”

  “Even me?” She tilted her head and watched his eyes follow the ropes of her hair where they tumbled back over her shoulder.

  He tucked a hand in one pocket, drumming the outside fingers against his upper thigh. Nervousness or pondering, she couldn’t discern. He covered his emotions well. But he looked as if he might be trying to figure out the answer himself.

  Regina gestured toward Tea Leaves. “Marguerite’s inside.”

  “I’m here to see you.” Marius met her gaze, though his tone stayed neutral. “She called me. Told me you were coming here at one o’clock and, if I wanted a chance to talk to you about things, I could wait outside and see if you were willing to talk to me when you came out. If you say no, I’m supposed to walk away, get in my car and not bother you further.”

  “Have you ever obeyed someone that cleanly and decisively?”

  He considered the question. “Not in recent memory. I get hit in the head a lot, though, so I could have lost a few instances.”

  Regina glanced at her watch, telling herself she wouldn’t smile. The curious thing was he hadn’t, as if he hadn’t meant it as a joke. Did he know how to have a sense of humor when it wasn’t a deliberate attempt to charm? It was almost three, just as she’d estimated. “You’ve been here since one?”

  “About one-fifteen. Didn’t want to interfere with your meeting, and Marguerite said not to disrupt your good mood by letting you see me on the way in.” His tone was brittle at the recitation, but Regina could imagine Marguerite saying it in her acerbic way. Her lips twitched again.

  “So she ordered you to be here?”

  He shook his head. “She told me it was up to me, and you, if you wanted to talk to me. As I said.”

  “You came by your own choice. That’s a good step. But the rest depends on what you have to say.”

  She settled against the door and leveled a cool stare on him. “You here to beg or bullshit?”

  His lips tightened. “I’m sorry about throwing the drink at you. I shouldn’t have lost it like that.”

  “Actually, that was the first honest response I’ve seen from you in some time. Though it pissed me off that you ruined the shirt. I’d looked forward to wearing it to bed that night and smelling your scent on my skin.”

  He blinked. She understood his confusion. Her words suggested something far different than her distant body language. Both messages were true, however. She played no games with her subs. Men required clear-as-damn-Windex communication. Since they were used to women being confusing, though, brutal honesty from one had the added benefit of sometimes throwing them off balance. But she liked his recovery.

  “I’d have liked thinking about that. It didn’t look all that ruined.” He tucked both hands in his pockets and rocked, heel to toe. “Don’t think it’s ever looked that damn good.”

  For once, it wasn’t a line. He said it with an unguarded look, his wry smile almost…shy. Wasn’t he a puzzle?

  “What is it you’re here for, Marius?”

  He cleared his throat. “To answer your question. Duncan. You asked me if that was my real name. It is. Duncan Marius Walczek.”

  “Okay. It suits you. Though you hold yourself a different way when you say it. It’s not a familiar fit, but more honest, maybe. Why meet me here to tell me that?”

  “I want to get back into The Zone. I like the work. I need it. And I’d…” He sighed. “I’m sorry for how I acted. I can do better for you, if you’ll give me another chance.”

  “So your primary motive is getting restored to The Zone’s good graces and employment.” She lifted a finger before he could answer. “For
tunately, I’m interested in you, Marius. Duncan.” She purred the name, intrigued when he shifted. It made him less confident, more uncomfortable. Her evaluation was correct. It was his truer name.

  “It’s a self-serving relationship,” she continued. “But I have no desire to cater to your side of that equation. I’ll take this where I want it to go.”

  He came a step closer, but at her stare, he moved back. “So does that mean we can try again, whatever it is you’re willing to try?”

  A little edge to his tone. He was sure he was getting a victory, though she sensed some surprise…maybe even a little disappointment that the challenge hadn’t been as difficult as he’d expected.

  “Maybe.” She slid a thorough perusal over him, head to toe. “First, you take me on a normal date.”

  If she’d told him to lie down in the street and pretend to be roadkill, she couldn’t have surprised him more. “Excuse me?” he asked, brow furrowing.

  “You’re a man, I’m a woman. You do know how to take a woman on a date? You didn’t hit puberty, walk into a BDSM club and that was the sum of your hookup experiences?”

  “No.” He didn’t smile. “It’s been awhile, though.”

  “For me, too.” She met his troubled gaze. Interesting. This did kind of freak him out. “I’ve seen the sub. I want to see the man, how he treats a woman outside of a club. So I want a normal date.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “I don’t get it.”

  “Is there a question there?” She leveled cool eyes on his arms. The muscle in his jaw twitched, but he uncrossed them.

  “Why do you want a normal date, Mistress?”

  An extra bonus. She hadn’t required him to call her that, but it had a nice sound to it, sliding down her spine like his fingertips.

  “It’s too easy for you to weaponize yourself inside the BDSM world,” she said evenly. “It may be what you crave, but you’ve poisoned it, and I don’t think you know how to purify the waters. Show me who you are outside of the scene, why you’d be worth the risk to go inside it with you again. I’m going to give you a clue, so you have a slim chance of not fucking it up. No over-the-top grand gestures that mask the man behind a show. You’re limited to a fifty-dollar budget.”

  His scowl deepened. “Teenagers spend more than that just to go out to the movies.”

  “Yeah, they probably do.”

  “I can afford—”

  “Your income is not the issue. Fifty dollars. Save receipts.”

  “No.”

  She’d turned to open the car door but stopped, brows raised. His jaw set in a stubborn line, he stepped forward. Closing his hand over the car door handle, he opened it for her and stepped back. “If it’s a real date, no guy would show a woman his receipts. If you say fifty, that’s what I’ll do. I assume you can take my word on that at least.”

  “I can.” She’d laid her hand on the window frame, and his other hand was resting just above it. Their smallest fingers were touching, a brush of contact. He withdrew, his touch sliding over hers, and then he thrust his hand back into his pocket, as if he might be burned.

  “A real date,” he said. “Next Friday, at six? I’ll pick you up.”

  “In front of Safe Word,” she said.

  He scowled. “You can trust me to pick you up at your place.”

  “That may or may not be true, but I’m not letting you into that part of my life.”

  “Right.” He watched her get into the car. “Because this is just about getting back into The Zone for me, and trying out a new sub for you, because you like new flavors.”

  “Maybe. It doesn’t bother me that you’re using me as a means to an end, Marius. Why should it bother you, unless it isn’t just about that?”

  She’d put the keys in the ignition and lowered the window before letting him close the door. Reaching through the opening, she pinched up a small section of his shirt over his abdomen, tugging on it lightly, both a tease and a gentle rebuke. He stilled under her touch.

  “Don’t calculate or measure,” she said. “Just answer my question, first thing that pops into your head. Do you know what you want?”

  “Yeah. And no.” His gaze flickered as if he hadn’t meant to speak so baldly, revealing a confusion of feelings.

  “That’s okay, because I know what I want.” Her grip on his shirt telegraphed her demand. As he bent toward her, she leaned far enough out the window to meet him partway and nibble on his bottom lip. Nice and full, a heated cushion, just the right kind of firmness.

  When he would have responded in kind, she made an admonishing noise. “I’m the one doing the tasting here,” she said. “Be still.”

  She was aware of his hands landing on the window frame, the resulting tension rippling through his biceps.

  “Sweet. So many wicked, sweet things I could do with that mouth.” She drew back, and met blue-gray eyes heated with desire, and conflict. Would he try to seize her, use physical force to make more of the kiss? She could feel that energy shuddering off him, but his eyes had that wary look. He’d talked himself out of it, for his own reasons. Maybe not the right ones, but that was all right. She’d take home some good fantasy material from her side of the kiss.

  “I look forward to our date,” she said, letting go and starting the engine. “How do I reach you if my schedule changes? Tyler didn’t have a phone number on file for you; just your message inbox on The Zone private forum.”

  He nodded. “I have a pay-as-you-go phone for Tal to contact me about fights, but that’s all I use it for. Tyler agreed to let me keep The Zone account for now, just to send and receive messages. I can check it at the library.”

  Interesting. She was sure Tyler had allowed that specifically to ensure she could communicate with Marius. And so Tyler could hack in and track what was going on between them, the protective control freak. She bit back a smile at the thought.

  “Be sure and check that inbox, at least once daily,” she said. “See you Friday. Oh, and Duncan?”

  That little ripple again as she used his given name. She met his stormy eyes, letting him see the heat and intent in her own. “I’m not unhappy with the choice you made, coming to see me today at Marguerite’s direction. But while you’re under my command, no other Mistress gives you orders. I don’t share my toys. Got it?”

  A nice flare of heat among gray clouds, like heat lightning. He moistened those tempting lips. “Yes, Mistress.”

  Chapter Seven

  Several days felt far longer than she expected, waiting to see him again. In between the demands of her job, her busy social life and the usual weekly home chores, she couldn’t keep her mind away from what he was doing with his daylight hours. Did he have another job other than The Zone and his fighting? Where did he live? Did he have a pet?

  Had he lain in his bed this week and closed his hand over his substantial cock, thinking of her? She had a couple nice sessions with her vibrator, imagining his muscular body naked and straining, hips lifting off the bed to shove his cock into his grip, his eyes fixed on her. Waiting for her to give him permission to come. Waiting and waiting, until he was quivering, his lips peeled back in a snarl, eyes wild.

  “You can’t come in your hand. But you can come inside my pussy.”

  Her own climax had surged through her as she imagined the way he’d bolt up from the mattress, seize her around the waist and take her up against the wall, pounding inside her, all that strength hers to command and call. Could he put his head on her breast afterward, defenses drained away? She wanted to have him sleeping in her arms, his body heavy against hers, damp with their combined heat.

  She was aware her fantasies and questions were where a woman went in her head when she was interested in a man. She could be fully infatuated without being led around by her heart or pussy. Women put too many obstacles in their own way. It was her heart to risk, and if it got burned, she much preferred it to happen because she chose the path she took, no regrets.

  She
admitted she was worried about him being in the ring again. She kept thinking about that scar under the Aussie man’s eye. Or Marius’s disturbingly flat statement about losing moments thanks to repetitive head injuries.

  She couldn’t control any of that, though. And as the day of the date dawned, she let herself enjoy curiosity and anticipation about what he’d planned for their night. She had no expectations. He might blow it, surprise her, or come up with something that passed muster but wasn’t memorable. But she’d walk away with more information about him, no matter what.

  On principle, she was five minutes late. When she arrived at Safe Word’s parking lot, he was leaning against his car, watching for her. He was shaved, wearing his white dress shirt and jeans again. He wasn’t diverse in the fashion department, but that was fine by her. It was a good look for him. He had two shirt buttons open, straddling the line between exceptionally modest and disco-era. The decision showed enough of his chest to help her imagine her fingertips sliding into the opening. She’d stroke the crisp hair and muscled chest, feeling his heat and heartbeat.

  The tails of the shirt and the crossing of his ankles drew her gaze to the packaging beneath the jeans. That, too, earned her approval. She was in the mood to get hot and sweaty tonight, aroused and wet. She’d said a normal date, and she had no intention of having sex with the man, but there was a lot of playing room between chaste distance and sexual penetration.

  He jogged over to her car, holding up a hand to keep her from getting out. When he reached her, he opened the door and leaned on the outside of it. “Full service date, right? Door opening and everything.”