by Lilli Feisty
He tossed the condom into the garbage and went to the sink. In Ruby’s bathroom, there wasn’t a stray hair to be found, and soap, toothbrush, and tissue box were arranged symmetrically. Even her makeup brushes seemed to be arranged in order; they stuck out of a glass vase like a bouquet. Her bathroom represented her perfectly: feminine and controlled. Each little glimpse into her life— from her orderly bathroom to her alphabetized record collection—came at him like tiny revelations. He didn’t want to be this fascinated by these little things, but he was.
He picked up a bar of soap and brought it to his nose. Jasmine. Ruby. He turned on the faucet and lathered the soap between his hands, rubbing until a rich foam coated his palms. He washed his hands, his face, took his time. He massaged the silky soap into his skin, scrubbing up like a surgeon.
Why was it so hard to think of leaving?
Here he was, in the bathroom of a girl he’d met less than twelve hours ago, sniffing her soap and trying to memorize the scent.
This was a fucking first.
He rinsed the last of the soap off his hands and face and dried himself with a soft towel. Then he pulled on his jeans and yanked his T-shirt over his head.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped back into the hallway. And when he rounded the corner to her living room her eyes fell directly on his, as if she’d been watching for him, waiting for him.
Two steps and he was there. “Baby, you okay?”
She nodded and gave him a little smile. “I think I’m still trying to process what just happened.”
He got on his haunches, brushed her hair off her forehead and kissed her nose. “I’m going to put you to bed.” Sliding his arms under her, he lifted her body to his chest, and as he did so she held his gaze, her dark eyes wide. Fuck, she was beautiful.
He held her tighter to his chest and ignored the strange feelings boiling inside him. It was natural for a top to feel protective. He kept telling himself that as he walked to her room, kissed her temple. He inhaled the jasmine scent of her hair, tried to fill his lungs and his head so he wouldn’t forget her scent.
Her room was easy to find—it was past her bathroom and down a hallway peppered with photography. As curious as he was about her, he couldn’t look at them. He didn’t want to know if there were any other images of her that her ex had taken. He didn’t want to think about it. Couldn’t think about it.
Still wrapped in the blanket, he placed her on the bed. His gaze fell on her bedside clock and he looked away. It was morning. Time was passing fast, too fast.
She was trembling, her legs and arms shaking. He tucked the blanket tighter around her body.
Sitting on the bed next to her, he brushed a lock of hair off her face. “That was pretty fucking intense, yeah?” God, she was stunning even with her eye makeup smeared, her eyes bloodshot, and her hair messy. It was too much, too good. His throat closed up.
She blinked a few times. “I don’t even know what to say. With Ash it was so different. Not like this at all.”
At the mention of her ex’s name he frowned. The thought of her with another man made his stomach tighten.
“I’ll call you tomorrow night, I mean tonight. We have to meet with some suits in L.A., but I can call you as soon as we check into our hotel.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t need to do that.”
“I want to do that.”
Closing her eyes, she pulled her hand out of his. “Really. It’s fine. This was really… great.”
“Great?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it?”
She narrowed her gaze, her eyes becoming more focused. “Yes. What else do you want it to be?”
“Ruby. I want to see you again.”
“You mean next time you pass through San Francisco? When will that be?”
He searched her eyes, not sure what he was looking for there. “We’ve decided to record here. Starting right away, so I’ll be here a few weeks.”
She pulled the blanket to her chin. “That’s great.” But she sounded less than happy, and Mark waited for her to go on.
“This was supposed to be a one-night thing. Nothing more,” she said.
“I’m not saying it will be.”
She sat up. “Exactly!”
He stood and pulled a worn quilt off a side chair, came back to her and tucked the second layer around her body. “Baby, you are making my head spin.” He couldn’t help but think that if this were any other girl, he’d have been out of there already. And yet here he was, practically begging to see her again.
“Listen,” she said, placing a hand on his. And when she looked at him her expression was downright placating. “This was, um, very pleasant, and you’re a really nice guy.”
Now she was giving him the nice-guy speech? When had he totally lost control of this night?
She smiled at him. “Tonight was new and intense, and I could just fall—” She bit her lip and looked away.
His heart missed a beat. “Fall for what, Ruby?”
After a deep breath she straightened and met his stare. “For a guy who’ll be gone by the end of the month. By the morning.”
It was like a punch to the gut. But what could he say? It was true.
Still, he wasn’t ready to leave her yet. “Listen, let’s talk about all that later. You’ve had an emotional night, and I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I am okay.” She lifted her chin, a gesture he was coming to love and hate all at once. “Seriously. I’d rather you go.”
“Why are you fighting this so hard?”
Wide-eyed, she looked incredulous. “Fighting what, exactly?”
“This.” He waved his hand around the room, as if that frustrated gesture would explain everything.
“Don’t you see? I’m not fighting anything. I’m old enough to know how this works. Tonight, it’s me. Tomorrow night, it’ll be another girl.”
Her words made his blood run cold. “Is that how you see me?”
Nibbling her bottom lip, she just looked at him, her silence all the answer he needed.
Running a hand over his scalp, he took a calming breath. And truthfully, he couldn’t even deny her words. He had too many notches on his belt to refute what she’d said. But this was different; so different, he had no idea what to say.
She spoke to him as if he were a stubborn child. “Listen. I feel something right now, right here.” She pointed to her chest. “I don’t know if it’s because of what you did to me or something more. But I do know that I hate saying good-bye. More than anything. And the longer you stay, the harder it’s gonna be. So please. Just go.”
He shook his head. “It would be totally irresponsible for me to leave you now. It’s a dominant’s responsibility to care for his submissive.” The words sounded rote, mechanical. And desperate.
“I’m fine. Please, Mark. Go back to your hotel. Get some sleep. Please. Just go.”
“It doesn’t feel right.” And it didn’t. The total wrongness of the situation hit him like a punch in the gut. Just a short time ago he’d been flying after what had been a nearly perfect night with a nearly perfect woman. And now that perfect woman was kicking him out of her apartment.
When had he lost control?
The feeling was unfamiliar and unwelcome. His heart beat a disturbing rhythm in his chest, and he wanted to run. Run away from this feeling.
Run away from her.
“Fine, baby. Whatever you want.” He spun on his heel and stalked toward her living room where his boots and jacket lay next to the chair. He tried not to think about Ruby’s naked ass as she’d bent over that chair. Tried not to picture the marks he’d left with his belt.
His marks. He laughed wryly as he yanked on one black boot. She was right. He’d never see her again. They’d already fucked; what did he care if she wanted him gone? Usually he was dying to sleep in his own bed. This wasn’t any different.
He stood and slid the belt back through the
loops of his jeans.
Then, shaking his head in the silence, he left.
Chapter
Seven
Ruby heard her front door shut. Not a slam, but not soft, either. It was the sound of a person sure of where he was going. It was the sound of Mark leaving.
Just as you asked him to.
She took a deep breath and looked at her open bedroom door. She heard a car go by, heard a siren in the distance. The city was alive, breathing, but inside her flat everything was quiet and still. Dead air.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Had she made a mistake sending him away? But she’d meant what she’d said. She hated saying good-bye. It sounded so lame, so neurotic. But hey, she’d never claimed to be normal.
Even now, as sensation returned to her overstimulated body, she realized she enjoyed the way her ass throbbed from Mark’s impromptu paddling. And it turned her on all over again.
What was wrong with her?
Have you ever been spanked? Meg’s question bounced around in her head.
Twelve hours ago, that answer had been no; nothing but a secret fantasy, and now… it was very real.
Flopping back onto the mattress, she smiled a secret smile. She’d just had her first spanking. From Mark St. Crow, up-and-coming rock god.
Maybe she could have handled things differently, been more diplomatic instead of freaking out and kicking him out. But it was for the best, it really was. If she’d let him stay, she wouldn’t have known if he truly wanted to be there, or if he was simply being a gentleman by staying the night.
He’d been irritated that she’d made him go, but hey, that was probably because it had never happened before.
He’d get over it. Just as she would get over him.
She stepped over the edge of the mountain hot spring. Steam rose in billowing, hot clouds around her. With such pristine water it was hard to tell where the bottom was, but the water was too tempting. She jumped in.
The spring was hot, but it didn’t burn her. Instead it seeped into her bones as she floated on her back. She tried not to think about how deep the water was because when she did fear pierced her. Deep waters terrified her, always had.
Her eyes popped open. She heard her sister’s cry, but she couldn’t see her. She began to swim, following her sister’s voice. But then the water started to surge in a whirlpool, and Ruby was spinning, spinning, being sucked down, her sister’s name a silent scream in her mouth…
The phone pulled her slowly out of the dream. Her heart still pounded as she reached across the bed to pull her cell off the nightstand and she flipped open the phone without even looking at the caller ID. “Hello?” Her voice sounded scratchy, sleepy.
She glanced at the clock. 10:30? She never slept this late, even on a Saturday.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
She bolted upright and cleared her throat. There was only one man who called her that. “James. It’s so nice to hear from you.” There, that sounded normal. And awake. “How are you?”
“Good. Listen, I was wondering if you had time to get together. With me.”
Her pulse fluttered. Was he asking her on a date? After months of flirting and not-so-subtle innuendo, was he finally doing it?
James Cleaver was CEO for a very successful Palo Alto software company. She’d planned their Christmas party last December, and it had been amazing, a winter wonderland like something out of a fairy tale. With an endless budget and free rein, Ruby thought it was her best event ever. She was dying to get more jobs like that—high-end, high-class, and high-budget. It was exactly the kind of event she wanted her company to be known for.
Not to mention, high-end parties brought high-end guests. At thirty-seven, Ruby was feeling her clock ticking, and she wanted to meet a good, responsible, successful man. James Cleaver was all those things. He even had the perfect last name. At the Christmas party, he’d asked her to dance three times, and she was sure he’d call her afterward for a date. Now, four months later, he was.
And of course it was at that exact moment she remembered all the things she’d done last night. With a man who was the polar opposite of James Cleaver. As if to taunt her, her ass suddenly began to sting, and she saw herself bent over a chair, her ass in the air as Mark spanked her. Her body immediately responded in a hot flush, and she squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to hammer down the sensations coursing through her.
“…spring fling. You know, as kind of a company morale thing. I have some ideas for the theme, but I know you’ll make it amazing.”
James continued, but now Ruby couldn’t concentrate. Last night, she’d had Mark St. Crow between her legs. She’d obeyed his commands, let him paddle her ass.
“Ruby?”
Harder! She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get Mark out of her head. “Very nice ideas. Indeed.” But all she could think about was melting under Mark’s hot kisses, his warm hands.
“Great. I’m happy you like it so much,” he said with a laugh. Not for the first time, Ruby noticed James had a very nice laugh.
She tried to picture James, in his khaki pants and starched shirt, wielding a whip at her. She giggled.
“Are you laughing?”
“No.” She put her fingers to her lips, took a deep breath, trying to get the image of a BDSM James out of her head. “Um. It’s just that I think everyone will whip.”
“Pardon?”
“Flip. Definitely.” She nodded as if he could see her. “Everyone will flip over this idea.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
Awkward silence. She couldn’t think! Finally she said, “Can I call you on Monday and we’ll set up a time to get together?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. It’s Saturday. Sometimes I forget people actually have lives. I’m at the office. Of course,” he said with a chuckle.
The guy seemed to always be at the office, which was strange because he was charming, attractive, and wealthy. He was one of the most desirable bachelors she knew.
“I’ll talk with Meg, and we’ll put together some ideas,” she said, pulling a pad of paper and pencil off her nightstand.
“I’m so glad you like the rock-and-roll theme.”
Fuck. A. Duck. Is that what she’d just agreed to? After last night, she’d had enough rock and roll to last the rest of her life! She began doodling skulls on her pad of paper. “It’s very fresh, very, um… hot.”
“And so when I saw the paper this morning, I knew you were just the person to call.”
She paused her doodling midcrossbone. “I’m sorry, what paper?”
“Oh, I guess you haven’t seen it. The SF Review. There’s a picture of you and Mark St. Crow at a bar. I didn’t know you two were such good friends.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Oh, it, it’s just that Mark really isn’t a friend of mine.” Just my one-night dom. “He’s really just an acquaintance; we’re not involved in any way.” Other than when I had him between my legs last night. “I mean, I’m not sure what the paper said, but I only met Mr. St. Crow last night.” And five minutes later I was begging him to fuck me.
She began scribbling large X’s across the skull.
“Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’m sure you’re just friends with the band.” But his tone had wink wink all over it. “But maybe you could ask him if they’d be interested in playing this private party?”
She wanted to say no. So badly. But the more high-end events she planned, the more successful her company would become. “Sure, James. I’ll see what I can do.”
Frowning, she flipped her phone closed. The last thing she wanted was a reason to call Mark. She wanted last night to remain a nice, naughty memory.
One night of craziness.
One night of bliss.
One night that would never, ever be repeated.
What she needed to do was focus on the fact that James Cleaver wanted another party. A spring fling. What she really wanted was to persuade him to
have a spring fling with her. Maybe he was just too shy to ask her out on a real date.
Placing her phone back on the nightstand, she wondered what a sweet, vanilla guy like that would think of her posing for an erotic photographer.
Well, there wasn’t any reason he needed to know about it.
Which reminded her, she needed to make damn sure there weren’t any more pictures of her out there. Since he’d never shown up last night, she hadn’t been able to tell Ash off. She made a mental note to do so ASAP. Meanwhile, she needed to talk to Meg. They had an event to plan.
Ruby exited the taxi on Union Street, in front of a colorful and fragrant flower stand that had set up shop on a corner. Tilting her chin, she let the sun warm her skin.
She didn’t mind the San Francisco fog; it made clear days like this sparkle in comparison. Everything and everyone seemed so much more alive and vibrant, which was exactly how Ruby felt as she wound through the crowded sidewalk. Today Pacific Heights was busy with families pushing shiny ergonomic strollers and twenty-something women carrying shopping bags that looked as expensive as whatever contents lay inside.
Many of the cafés had placed tables outside on the sidewalks, and as Ruby walked toward Savor, she glanced at the patrons enjoying a meal in the sun. She smiled at a toddler attempting to scoop scrambled eggs into her mouth and nodded at two elderly, dapper men sipping from foamy white cups as they watched people walk by.
Just another normal day in San Francisco. But she felt anything but normal.
All morning she’d been wondering about Mark, wondering where he was. It was damn annoying, really, and, for the millionth time, she shook thoughts of him out of her head.
Instead she focused on the people around her. A couple sipping mimosas caught her eye. They had scooted their chairs very close together, so close they were touching shoulders. Their voices were low and their faces close together. Intimate. She’d never experienced that kind of obvious love, with Ash or any of the boyfriends she’d had before him. She was beginning to wonder if she was even capable of it.
Looking away, she picked up her pace. Two cafés later she found Meg sitting at a small metal table outside Savor.