by Lilli Feisty
Ruby glanced at the strappy gold sandals on her feet. She wasn’t used to heels quite this high, but she had to admit they were making her feel sexy. Not to mention, they also gave her five-foot-two frame some much-needed height.
Ruby grimaced. “They hurt like hell.”
“It’s a bitch being beautiful.” Giggling, Meg took her arm and muscled her way up to the crowded bar.
A tall bartender with multiple eyebrow piercings caught her eye. “You Ruby?”
She blinked. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Mark said you’d be with a goth girl wearing spiderwebs on her legs.”
Meg raised her hand. “That would be me. I’ll have a Lemon Drop, please. And my friend will have—”
“A chocolate martini,” he finished, turning to pull two bottles from the shelf behind him.
Ruby felt Meg’s gaze burning a hole into her face. “What?”
“Um, Mark St. Crow has your drink waiting for you at a show. That’s what.”
“Is that bad? Does that mean I’m a groupie?”
“It means he really wants you to have a chocolate martini. And that he’s into you.”
Ruby beamed. “Do you think so?”
“I do. Come on.” They took their drinks from the bartender and started toward the stage.
Ruby reached out and touched Meg’s shoulder. “Wait.” For some reason she felt her face go hot. “Mark kinda asked me to go over there. He was very specific about it.” She jerked her head toward the right of the stage.
“But I see some people we know on the other side.”
Ruby’s face was burning. But she didn’t want to disobey Mark’s instructions. “Please?”
Meg looked at her funny but then shrugged and followed her to a reserved table in the far right corner, separated from the crowd by a wooden rail. A little white card with the words Ruby Darling sat on the table, which somehow made her stomach do that fluttery thing again. They took their seats.
The venue wasn’t big, but it was packed, and the energy vibrating inside the building was nearly palpable. Canned between-set music played, further adding to the sense of anticipation buzzing within the crowd. Ruby picked up on the power of it all, and her excitement level kicked up a notch. She realized she wasn’t just excited to be with Mark after the show; she was eager to hear him play.
“When was the last time you were at a live show?” Ruby asked.
Meg looked thoughtful. “God, I don’t know. Emmett goes all the time, but I never seem to have the energy.”
“And the last thing I want to do in my spare time is go to another event.”
They looked at each other for a second before bursting into laughter. “We are so old,” Ruby said.
Meg held up her glass. “Cheers to that.” Laughing, they sipped their drinks.
Finally Mark’s band came onstage. The audience swarmed to the front as Mark took his place behind some kind of mixing machine. The third member, a guy with a bleach-blond Mohawk Ruby recognized from earlier, sat behind a drum set. Yvette slung a guitar over her shoulder, low on her hips, exposing the taut skin of her midriff.
Meg watched Yvette with a contemplative gaze. “I think that’s one of the hottest women I’ve ever seen. If I swung that way, I’d be all over her.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“What?”
“Well, she’s his ex, and I get the distinct impression that woman does not want Mark to be with me.” Frowning, Ruby watched as the redhead went to Mark and leaned over his shoulder. She spoke close to his ear and laid her hand on his back, intimately casual.
Meg nodded. “Oh yeah. She’s into him.”
“Not. Helping.” Ruby gave her friend her meanest glare, the one she used for caterers who showed up late.
Meg just laughed and ignored her, watching as Yvette took center stage. When the roar of the crowd died down, Mark dropped a needle onto a record and then the scratchy notes of an old jazz tune drifted through the speakers. It was a soft song, one Ruby recognized, and she couldn’t help but sway a little to the tune. Soon the drummer began a steady beat, and a few minutes later Yvette struck a chord, adding a rhythmic harmony that had the crowd moving to the beat. The song built, layer after layer of sounds, driving faster and faster until the entire audience was like one giant beast, captive to the masterful music.
As Ruby was. But not just captive to the music. It was Mark, too, that had her riveted. He had presence, a commanding way about him, and he was very confident in what he was doing, and comfortable being onstage. He seemed to go into a trance, his competent fingers composing right before her eyes, using his mixer and the keyboards to create a sound so unique, it truly sounded like art. The beat pulsed right through her and she felt it everywhere. Her chest, her stomach. Between her thighs. She was so enthralled with his performance, she barely noticed when a young man she recognized as one of Mark’s crew dropped a folded piece of paper in her lap.
He then disappeared, lost in the crowd before she could catch him. Puzzled, she unfolded the note and read.
Take off your panties and put them in your purse.
M.
For a second she just stared at the note. Did Mark really want her to do this? Here? Now?
She kinda wanted to.
Meg tapped Ruby’s arm and pointed at the paper in her hand, her brow raised in question. But Ruby wasn’t quite ready to share this particular note with her friend, so she just shrugged and tucked it away in her purse.
On edge, already about to explode in anticipation of what was to come—whatever that was—and excited from the music, the crowd, she could barely keep herself in check. Now he wanted her to take off her panties?
He was so bad. She loved it.
But could she do it? What if someone saw? She was just starting to create a name for herself as an event planner. When in public, she needed to behave professionally at all times. No, it was too risky.
But he was watching her.
She picked up her cocktail and realized her hand was shaking. When she brought the martini glass to her mouth a drop of the cocktail spilled over the rim and onto her hand. As she licked the sweet liquid off her fingertip, she glanced up to see Mark’s gaze was locked on her mouth as she slowly licked the last drop from her skin.
She wasn’t far away, and she could see his expression tighten. Ha! So he wasn’t entirely Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected. She brought her drink to her lips again, this time using her tongue to lick the rim, slowly. Seductively.
He missed a beat.
She smiled. And savored the anticipation of waiting for his show to end. She was going to leave her panties on. And find out for herself what happened when she disobeyed an order from Mark St. Crow.
Chapter
Five
You didn’t take off your panties,” he whispered against Ruby’s ear as she passed through the door. The chilly air hit her. She couldn’t tell if it was from his warm breath in her ear or the slap of cold air, but a shiver raced up her spine.
“I couldn’t exactly just whip them off in front of Meg.” Not that her friend would have cared. Meg had practically shoved her out the door with Mark, saying she’d catch a ride home with a friend.
He followed Ruby into the alley and a limo pulled up. Soon they were zipping over the hilly streets toward her house in the Richmond District. They bumped along in silence until she glanced his way. Her breath caught. Those eyes of his: Dangerous. Exciting. Tempting. They made her want to unlock all her secrets and lay them at his feet.
And then he pulled her to him, kissing her softly. As he pressed his lips against hers, her head fell back against the worn leather of the limo seat. Her body went limp; he knew exactly how to make her melt, and there was a beauty in letting him.
There was something about opening up with a stranger. No rules, no limitations. Nothing to lose. Now, she sighed as his hand caressed her knee, moved over her thigh and slid under her dress.
“Open for me.”
&nbs
p; Her dress stretched against her thighs as she let her legs fall open.
Pulling her panties aside, he gently nuzzled his mouth against the side of her neck. “You make me so fucking hot, Ruby. Something about you…”
The limo crested a hill, then dipped over the other side. Her stomach dropped from the quick fall while at that very moment he slid a finger into her moist sex. She gasped.
He pulled out and pushed again, this time punctuating his movement with a sharp nip to her ear. Pure lust surged through her, had her nerves tingling, electrified.
“I want you bound for me. I want to see you so turned on you scream my name. I want you in so many ways, Ruby.”
Even now, some part of her brain reminded her that she’d only just met him. Yet she felt safe, safer than she had in so long. With her body melting around his hand, she had no doubt he could give her what she so deeply craved.
She could barely admit it even to herself. But she wanted to be possessed, ruled. To experience the secret desires she’d admitted to no one, not even to Ash. Not even to herself. And this was perfect; a perfect stranger to take her there.
One night. Get it out of your system. Move on.
His chest pressed against her arm, and when he spoke she could feel his voice on her skin. “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it right. The way you want it. The way I know you want it.”
His hand still cupped her between her legs, warm and firm.
“Yes,” she said.
He spoke softly, his hot breath sending thrilling pinpricks over her shoulders, down her arm. “Tell me your limits, Ruby. Tell me how far I can push you.”
“I–I don’t know.” Apprehension and anticipation mingled inside her. She had no idea what to say. And she didn’t want to have any limits, not tonight.
“I noticed you looking at my cuffs earlier. Tell me, Ruby. Do you like leather? Do you like being restrained?”
Even now she could smell it on him, and the scent was nearly as erotic as his touch, his voice. She nodded.
“Would you like to feel it on your skin? Striking you?”
When she was silent, he said, “Well, Ruby? Would you like that? Would you give me that privilege?”
She could barely breathe, let alone talk.
“You need to say yes if you want this, baby.”
She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. “Yes,” she managed, and her voice sounded scratchy.
He kissed her then, and she felt the pad of his thumb lightly on her clit.
“Oh,” she said. “Yes, Mark.”
“But you’re a little naughty, aren’t you? A little feisty.” He pushed deeper into her pussy, until his finger was buried in her wetness. “That’s okay. I like that in a girl. It’s more fun, don’t you think?”
His finger worked her, and she bit her lip, trying not to groan. “I’m not all that submissive,” she gasped.
“I know. Earlier, at the show, why didn’t you take off your panties?”
She sank even farther into the leather seat. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?” He cupped her sex, his palm pressing perfectly on her clit.
She bit back a moan. “I couldn’t… it was too public…”
He made a tsking noise. “You’re a bad girl, Ruby.” He slid another finger inside her. “Now I’m afraid I have to punish you.”
“Yes. Please,” she said, her body clenching around his fingers. It was starting. The thoughts in her head were evaporating like drops of water under the desert sun. Soon there would be nothing. Just him.
Giving herself over completely—it had been so long, and she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever let herself go one hundred percent. Because this was so different from anything else and it hit her like a shot of tequila, with a prickly heat that coursed through her veins, warmed her blood.
“Tell me you’re mine tonight.”
“You had me at hello.”
“My naughty little Ruby.” His low, hot voice breathed into her ear, making her shiver. “But it’s an act. You’ve wanted to give yourself to me from the second we met.”
She stilled. “For some reason, around you…”
“What? Tell me what I do to you, Ruby.”
“You don’t understand; I’m normally not like this. I’m normally very responsible.”
“You think we’re being irresponsible?”
“Yes.”
She inhaled sharply when he slid his hand out of her pussy. He replaced her panties over her damp sex and then, arranging her dress over her thighs, he gently straightened the silky fabric. Then he grinned. “You’re so sexy when you fight your desire for me. It’ll be that much more fun when you’re screaming for me to spank you harder.”
She was about to argue, but he touched her lips gently, silencing her. With the hand that had been inside her he traced her lips with his fingertips. The scent of herself on his skin made her squeeze her thighs together, hoping the pressure would help ease the throbbing ache between her legs.
It didn’t.
She closed her eyes as he pushed one finger into her mouth. Then two fingers. She tasted her own, acidic essence on his skin. She sucked him deeper, tasting and licking, hoping to tease him a little as he’d done to her. But it wasn’t working; she was only getting hotter, wetter. Weighed down with wanting him.
He withdrew his hand, leaving her empty and filled with need. It took her a minute to focus after she opened her eyes. She could smell him, their scents mingled. She inhaled deeply, wanting to cement his unique, spicy scent into her nostrils. Knowing these memories would make her recollection of this night all the more real after he left.
He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed the back of her wrist. She wanted more, wanted him to take her finger into his mouth and lick her, suck her like she’d done to him. But instead he dropped their hands onto his lap and held them there for the rest of the ride home.
Her heart hammered the entire time. The tension in the limo was heavy, and the scent of sex and leather was making her breathless.
Finally they came to a stop. They got out of the limo, and she led the way to her Victorian apartment building. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the front door, and her legs trembled as they made their way up the marble steps to her apartment. Once inside, she placed her purse on the hall table and walked to the living room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she crossed the room, the sound echoing in her ears.
She turned to face him. “Can I get you something? A drink? Coffee?”
“I’m good.” He took in her place, inspecting her one-bedroom, second-floor flat. She followed his gaze to the huge bay window, beyond which the lights of the city sparkled. Even though tonight the fog muffled the view, San Francisco twinkled in colorful, blurry lights. It was this scene that had sold her on the tiny place nearly five years ago.
But the outlook didn’t interest him as much as her music collection. Soon he was flipping through a crate of records she kept next to her ancient record player. “You really do like jazz.”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “They were my dad’s.”
He looked up. “You close with your folks?”
“Not really. My dad left when I was sixteen. When Mom tracked him down, she left to be with him. Now, I get the occasional e-mail or postcard. I think they’re in Thailand at the moment.”
He blinked at her but didn’t press her for information, which she appreciated. Instead he slipped a record out of a sleeve and gently placed it on the turntable.
Ruby loved the first few scratchy seconds right after the needle dropped onto vinyl. Silently they listened to the static, and then the soft piano of a Thelonious Monk tune drifted through the speakers.
Mark stood, and she followed his gaze to the black-and-white picture hanging over the fireplace. It was a photograph of a woman’s back. Rope came down from her neck, winding around her shoulders and across her arms, multiple times, ending with one knot that held her
wrists tightly at the base of her spine.
Mark glanced at her. “You?”
She nodded. Her walls were filled with the black-and-white photographs she’d taken during her college years at RIT. But there was one that wasn’t hers, the only photograph she’d kept from her time with Ash. Of course, Mark had honed right in on it.
It didn’t show her face or even her tattoo. But he knew it was her. He already knew her that well. Even her own sister had never made the connection, which was why she’d kept the photograph on her wall.
“Gorgeous,” he said.
She laughed nervously. “That’s because you can’t see my face.”
He turned to her then, his gaze sharp. “I never want to hear you talk about yourself that way, Ruby. Understand?”
All she could do was nod.
Rooted to the floor, she stood stock-still as he approached her. Then he was kissing her again, with that gentle yet commanding way that turned her insides to mush. She barely noticed the firm hand on her shoulder, pushing her to her knees.
She closed her eyes, felt the wool of the Persian rug scratch the skin of her knees. The floor grounded her as she turned inward, mentally preparing herself for whatever he wanted to do to her.
For the millionth time she wondered how this was happening—how she’d let it happen. And yet, it felt powerful somehow. Mark said he would push her, but, more important, she was pushing herself to explore these fantasies she’d been hiding for so long.
“Are you ready?”
Her belly quivered with nerves and anticipation. “Yes.” She braced herself on the floor.
She heard his boots thudding as he circled her. “Can you follow instructions?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you still wearing your panties?”
She speared him with a look.
Legs planted in a wide stance before her, he held his hands clasped before him. Despite his commanding posture, he smiled at her. “There will be rules. Such as, no dirty looks.”
She tried not to roll her eyes.