Crossing Lines

by Alannah Lynne

His laughter filled her chest as she sifted her fingers through his hair, grasped the ends, and tugged. Fumbling around blind, she found his bottom lip, clamped down with her teeth, and pulled.

  One of his hands clasped the back of her neck and held her still as his mouth angled over hers and he took control of the kiss. His tongue swept the roof of her mouth, stroked her tongue, then brushed her bottom lip. He slowed the pace and gentled the kiss, and when she’d eased away from the climactic ledge, he rocked his hips and nudged her toward the drop-off once again.

  He palmed her breast, rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and alternated his strokes with Lucas’s. Lights flickered behind her eyelids, then grew in intensity, as did the whirling in her stomach. But like last time, he stopped seconds before she exploded.

  “Kevin, please.”

  “You want to stop now? You don’t want more?” Before she could answer, he pressed his fingers against her lips. Her mouth instinctively opened wide and drew them in with a strong suck. “Mmmm… I’d say you do want more. Two of us isn’t enough, huh? You want to suck off my friend, too?”

  His rough, gravelly voice drove her on and she sucked his fingers, imagining them to be his friend’s cock. Where this incredibly wild streak came from, she didn’t know. She also didn’t care. She sank deeper into the fantasy while stroking his fingers with her tongue, drawing them in and out, like she would a man.

  She hit a frenzied state, wild and out of control, propelled to the edge of the cliff, with no chance of stopping or turning back. She screamed and bucked wildly as the force of the orgasm ripped through her. Her stomach and pelvic muscles contracted, drawing the men in farther, her skin tingled, and she was lost to everything except the men filling her and the relentless waves of pleasure pulsing through her.

  Three more pounding thrusts and Kevin barked a curse, then spasmed with his own climax.

  Boneless, barely able to breath, incapable of speech, with her hands still bound behind his neck, the only thing she could do was collapse onto his chest. When she finally collected herself enough to speak, she said, “See… I need to see you.”

  “Just a second…” Kevin shifted and twisted and fumbled around like he was looking for something on the bed. “Say goodnight, Lucas.”

  “I’ve had a lovely time, Samantha.” He spoke from somewhere on her left, and in her relaxed, post-coital state, where everything was sharper and more focused, she realized his voice came through a speaker of some sort, presumably Kevin’s phone. “Thanks for letting me join the two of you.”

  Kevin shifted and what felt like straps around her legs loosened, and the plug or dildo or whatever he’d used was removed. “You and Kevin should come to the club and the three of us can play there sometime.”

  She wasn’t sure what that meant, but considering they’d just had sex, sorta, she figured she needed to at least acknowledge him in some way. “Thank you?” How exactly did one thank a stranger for… phone sex?

  His kind laughter rang out as Kevin said, “Thanks, man. Shut the door on your way out.”

  The sound of footsteps echoed through the room and a door—not her door—opened and closed, and they were alone in the silence.

  Kevin slipped the blindfold off and brushed her hair away from her face. Holding her cheeks in his palms, he murmured, “Hey.”

  She still wasn’t clear on the details, but Kevin certainly managed to make the fantasy very real, almost too real at times, and emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t believe he’d gone to so much effort for her, and words eluded her.

  Rather than speaking, she lowered her head and kissed him. Not hard and passionate like earlier. The purpose of this kiss was to convey how much she appreciated all he’d done for her and Michaela throughout the weekend, all he’d done for her tonight, and how much she cared for him—despite her desire to keep him at a distance.

  When she broke the kiss, he said, “Let’s take those cuffs off and get you cleaned up.”

  Once basic cleanup was completed, Sam curled against Kevin’s side and reached for the sheet to pull over them. What she found, instead, was an unfamiliar shirt. She pressed it to her face and drew in a deep breath until she grew dizzy, enjoying the spicy scent. “Lucas’s?”

  Kevin’s eyes narrowed as she took another couple of deep breaths, and finally, having had enough, he snatched it from her hand and tossed it across the room.

  She laughed and rested her head on his chest. “So who is Lucas? And how did you pull that off?”

  He looked at her through the fringe of his eyelashes, his dark eyes filled with affection… and arrogance. “If I tell you everything, we won’t be able to do it again.” He glanced to the ceiling. “We’re definitely putting a mirror up there before next time.”

  “What did he mean about coming to the club?”

  “Lucas owns a kink club here in town. I’ve done some work for him and we’ve gotten to be friends.”

  “You called him Master Lucas. He’s a Dom?”

  Kevin chuckled. “He is a Dom and is called Master Lucas by those in the lifestyle. But I’m not in the lifestyle, and I’m not one of his girls, so I refuse to call him that unless he has me in a headlock. I do it mostly just to yank his chain, though.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he jiggled her shoulder with the arm wrapped protectively around her. “What’s on your mind?”

  Sexual adventures were new to her. Only since her divorce had she felt the freedom to explore. And she often confused herself about what she wanted. “Sometimes, I think I’d like to try some of those things, but I don’t know that I’d be any good at it, and I’m not sure that’s what I really want. Like the threesome. I liked the idea of the fantasy, but when I thought a strange man was in my bedroom with you, I freaked out.”

  He stared into space, deep in thought. After a moment, he said, “I don’t do well with boxes and labels, so I don’t think I could ever say I’m this or that. But we can experiment all you want. Here or, if you’re in an adventurous mood, we can go to the club.”

  The idea of going to a club where there were other people around left her feeling much as she had when Kevin first arrived—terrified and excited at the same time.

  “We can play around and try new things, keep what works and toss what doesn’t. I’ve played with Lucas’s sub at the club.” He grinned broadly. “She also happens to be his wife. And I enjoyed certain aspects. I liked spanking her.” His eyes darkened and grew intensely focused on her. “But I enjoyed it a hell of a lot more with you. I fed off your energy and the scene was hotter and more intense than anything I did with Loralei. Does that mean I’m a sadist or need to spank you all the time? No. But it’s fun to try different things.”

  He shifted so he could see her better. “I guess what I’m saying is this… I’ll try anything you’re up for. Here or at the club. If it works, we can keep it. If not, we say we tried and leave it be. Deal?”

  She had a drawer full of toys she played with alone, and the prospect of sharing them with someone else had her shaking her head in agreement before her mind could come up with a list of reasons why this plan was a bad idea.

  “Did you just con me into seeing you on a regular basis?”

  His grin was wicked, his laugh genuine. “I believe I did.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kevin spent the rest of the night wrapped up with Sam in her bed, sleeping as soundly as he’d ever slept. At least until five thirty when the alarm pulled him from an amazing dream, which turned out to be true, and Sam shooed him out the door like an unwanted burglar.

  He and Marianne agreed they’d be foolish not to scoop Sam up while they had the chance, so he ran the idea by Sam before they went to sleep. She was interested, although concerned their personal relationship might interfere with their professional one. He tried to reassure her they would be able to run the two concurrently, but also made sure she understood, even if their personal relationship went down the shitter, her job would b
e secure. Working out the final details was the last step.

  He’d needed to stop by the Vanguard subdivision and Bellamy project on his way to work, so they’d pushed their meeting with Marianne back to eleven. Even at that, he was running thirty minutes late and hoped Marianne and Sam had started hammering out the fine print without him.

  Something round and shiny sitting on the lower step caught his attention as he crossed the lot to the front door of Mazze Builder’s Myrtle Beach headquarters. He squinted, trying for better focus, and this time it actually worked. His step faltered as he made out the mud pie—white stones, like Sam had at the base of her gutters, ringing the outer edge and larger flat stones forming a K in the middle. Michy must’ve made it for him last night, or this morning before school, and Sam brought it when she came for their meeting.

  Tears stung the back of his eyes as he knelt down and picked up the tin pan as carefully as he would the little treasure who made it. Dio, he loved that little girl. He sank down as he struggled to understand his feelings. How could he love someone he’d only recently met?

  Regardless of the hows or whys, the facts remained the same. He loved Michaela as much as he loved Spencer, which, he supposed, meant he loved her like his own. And her mamma? He glanced over his shoulder to Marianne’s office window.

  Yeah, he’d fallen in love with her mamma too.

  Things with Sam wouldn’t be easy. Time and patience would be necessary to make her understand he wasn’t like the other men in her life. He would treat her with kindness and respect and love her with all his heart. Hopefully, over time, she would realize he was the real deal and wouldn’t let her down.

  The sound of crunching gravel drew his attention to the entry gate. He blinked once, twice, a third time and still, the scene remained the same—horrifying.

  In all the time they’d dated, Lizbeth had never made the three-and-a-half-hour trip to Myrtle Beach. She’d never been to his home, and she sure as hell had never been interested in seeing his place of business. How had she found him? More importantly, what the hell was she doing here?

  He tried to reach her all day yesterday and she hadn’t returned a single call. After getting the we’re done message, she shows up?

  On the same day Sam sat in his office.

  Panic ripped through him, seizing his brain like an engine without oil. Survival instincts kicked in and propelled him off the steps and toward her car, cutting her off before she exited.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She wore large, Hollywood-style sunglasses, but even though they hid most of her face, her red lips and nose and puffy face indicated she’d been crying. A lot.

  “Miranda doesn’t want to get married. The wedding, their engagement… everything is off.”

  Relief at hearing her presence was about Wade and Miranda, not the two of them, caused him to let his guard down. As he worked to switch gears and process this new information, he stumbled backward, away from her car.

  Taking advantage of his retreat, Lizbeth slung her door open, and, despite the mud pie in his hand, flung herself at him. He palmed the pan and shot his arm out to the side, protecting the precious pie and preventing them from being accessorized with mud.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Through her sobs, she said, “She met some guy a few months back and has been seeing him on the side. She said she’s too young to get married and doesn’t want to settle for Wade.”

  None of this came as a surprise, and while it sucked she waited until two weeks before the wedding to have her revelation, it was much better than after they were married. However, that wasn’t his concern at the moment. He needed to get rid of Lizbeth. Now.

  “Okay, Lizbeth, calm down.” He tried to put some distance between them, but she clung to him for dear life.

  “What am I going to do?”

  Get back in the fucking car and follow me out of this lot. Hell, even if he only managed to get her back into the car, it would be infinitely better than her glued to his front like a papoose.

  “Lizbeth, get in the car. Let’s go somewhere else and talk.”

  While she rambled about everything being ruined—not just Wade and Miranda’s wedding, but her career as well—he eased her back toward the open car door. “Get in the car.”

  “Please, please don’t do this.”

  As the pleading words continued to trail from her mouth, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t have to turn around to know Sam had made an appearance on the steps behind him. The alarm shredding through him was proof enough.

  He peeled Lizbeth off and spun around, praying his gut instincts were wrong.

  They were never wrong, and he found not only Sam, but Marianne standing on the steps, shock and dismay registering on their faces.

  Oblivious to the audience—or uncaring—Lizbeth continued with the dramatics. “I’ve put so much into this wedding, and Mother and Daddy have already paid for everything.” Even though he stood at an angle to her, she fisted the front of his shirt and shook him, trying to regain his attention. “Please work this out with me and help me through this disaster. I need you more than ever. Don’t quit on me now.”

  Her words acted like jabs to the gut, each one knocking a little more breath out of him until no oxygen remained and his heart barely beat. The agonizing gasp and despair twisting Sam’s beautiful face was the final blow that practically cut his legs out from under him.

  With a harsh grip on Lizbeth’s arm, he jerked her off him and turned to Sam. “Please let me explain.”

  She wrapped her arms around her stomach as if the pain threatened to tear her apart and she needed to hold herself together. Without saying a word, she struggled down the steps, then walked across the gravel lot to her car. She didn’t limp—she was too fucking proud for that—but the flinch around her eyes and mouth, as well as the tightening of her shoulders, showed how much each step cost.

  Still holding his precious pie in hand, he reached her car at the same time as her. “Please, Sam, hear me out.”

  She stared him straight in the eye, anger, despair… hatred filling her expression. “Are you still involved with her?”

  “No.” Thank God he’d gone to Riverside to end things. Even though Lizbeth had avoided him, he’d left a message and could answer Sam honestly and without hesitation. “Things with us have been over for a while…”

  Mother fucker! The second the words left his mouth he wanted to snatch them back. He sounded just like her ex-husband, something Sam would tweak to immediately.

  “Did she know it was over?”

  Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  There were all kinds of ways to justify the situation or bullshit his way around the truth. Yes, Lizbeth had to know they’d reached the end of the line, same as him. But since he hadn’t broached the subject, neither had she, and they’d maintained the status quo.

  And that’s what Sam was looking for. Bottom line, he hadn’t officially ended his relationship with Lizbeth before he started seeing Sam. Jesus, he didn’t want to tell the truth and hurt her further, but he didn’t have a choice.

  He closed his eyes so he didn’t see the disgust in her face and shook his head. “No.”

  The mud pie caught him squarely in the chest with enough force to know she’d sent it flying with quite a punch. “Don’t ever come near me or my daughter again.”

  “Sam, please. In the name of everything holy, don’t do this. Let me explain.”

  She shook her head and bit down hard on her bottom lip. “I’ve heard everything I need to.” She slammed her car door shut, revved the engine, and roared out of the lot.

  As the pie dripped onto his pants, he fought the urge to draw the plate to him, using it to fill the gaping hole left in his chest by Sam’s departure. He turned and caught sight of a bewildered Lizbeth and a highly pissed-off Marianne. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this kind of deep, aching grief where every fiber of his being ache
d and cried out in wrenching pain.

  He needed to put as much distance between himself and everyone else as possible. It was entirely probable he would completely burst from the pain and no one needed to lay witness to that kind of destruction.

  He pivoted on his heel and walked to the end of the lot, circled the back of the office building, and headed toward the shop. Everyone was out on a job, so the shop would be empty. He could sit in there and mourn his loss without any interference.

  “Kevin.” Footsteps pounded behind him. “Kevin.”

  Fury swelled within him and he struggled to keep it contained, rather than turn and take it out on Lizbeth. He wanted to be angry with her and blame her for everything, but it wasn’t her fault. He had no one to blame but himself.

  “Not now, Lizbeth. For your sake, leave me alone.”

  Stopping to unlock the shop door slowed him down long enough for her to catch up. “Who was that?”

  The only thing preventing him from losing his shit and committing murder was Lizbeth’s tone. She didn’t sound angry, or even hurt. She sounded concerned. He lifted his gaze to hers and was surprised to find she’d removed her sunglasses and was searching his face for answers, truly concerned about him and not herself for a change. The soft, caring hand she rested on his shoulder backed up the concern in her eyes.

  “Please talk to me. Who is she?”

  “That,” he said, swinging the door open, “was my life.”

  Lizbeth drew in a deep breath and swallowed hard. “I’ve known for a long time I wasn’t the one for you, but I tried to put off the inevitable as long as possible.” She stepped into the shop behind him and glanced around. Greasy rags lay on the counters. Five-gallon buckets were stacked all around. Whiffs of gas and oil mixed with sawdust and filled the air with a stench he found calming.

  A stench Lizbeth struggled to breathe through. Rather than turn and run from the building, she searched under the workbench and found an old, metal barstool. After shifting around and getting as comfortable as possible, she said, “I’m sorry you’re hurting. I’m also sorry for my part in that. Will you tell me about her?”