Rough Ride (Let it Ride Book 1)

by Cynthia Rayne

  Sex was fun, but I didn’t do the snuggling thing afterward. Sure, I’d had hugs from friends. When I was a kid, my nanny had held me, rocked me to sleep a time or two.

  I’d get a one-armed hug from Dad now and then.

  But no one held me, fussed over me.

  After I had the realization, the spell was over—this was too much, too fast.

  I pushed away, and Malcolm let me go. Instead, he put his equipment back in the box, tossed the used condom in the trash. Good, he’d worn one.

  I got dressed.

  Malcolm turned to face me. “Will you stay with me, Kate?”

  I hesitated.

  Part of me wanted to agree. I was longing for more, but I didn’t know how I felt about what we’d done yet. This was overwhelming and I needed to come to terms with it. I wouldn’t be able to think if I remained here.

  “No, thanks. It’s getting late, and I have to be at work early tomorrow. So, um, thanks for…” I drifted off, at a loss for words.

  “My pleasure. You can stay over another time.” Malcolm made it so easy for me—no judgment or blame, just acceptance.

  As I headed for the door, he grasped my shoulders and turned me around.

  “Tonight was incredible.”

  My thoughts exactly, along with a few other adjectives—disconcerting, overwhelming.

  Addictive.

  His mouth settled over mine for a soft kiss. It was so gentle, and I melted into him. He wrapped an arm around my waist, supporting me, and I slung both of mine around his neck.

  He coaxed me into a deeper kiss, teasing me. I realized it was the first time we’d kissed. If anything, it was more shocking than the sex had been—so tender, almost tentative. Malcolm pressed one last smooch to my forehead then released me.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  Nodding, I stumbled to the door.

  And then I got the hell out of there.

  As soon as I got home, I barricaded myself in my room, then stripped off my clothes. His marks were all over me—lines from the ropes, and my ass was a deep bright red.

  I felt marked—no, owned.

  What had I gotten myself into?

  Chapter Nine

  Kate

  Three delicious weeks passed in an enjoyable haze.

  Malcolm and I fell into a regular pattern. We were professional and appropriate at work, and at night, I gave myself over to him.

  He taught me about bondage and submission, and I loved every single lesson. I couldn’t get enough of this, of him.

  I still hadn’t slept over at Malcolm’s, even though I’d wanted to. He offered every time, and I hated turning him down. I thought if I didn’t spend the night with him, I could pretend this wasn’t a big deal.

  That what we had was just…different. New.

  At night, he had me bound and gagged for his pleasure. And at work, we both pretended nothing was going on.

  It was hard to think about anything but Malcolm.

  Thankfully, I’d completed all my big projects for the semester, so I could concentrate on my internship. I’d become a ghost at home, slipping into bed during the early morning hours and disappearing before my roommates woke up.

  “What’s your deal?”

  I jumped.

  Darcy stood at the counter beside me in the kitchen. I was so lost in my own thoughts, I hadn’t heard her walk in. The coffee pot hissed and sputtered, filling the carafe at a sluggish pace.

  “I don’t have a deal.” I turned to face her, folding my arms over my chest.

  She made a disgusted noise. “Yes, you do. You’ve barely been here for weeks. You come in late, leave early, and you’ve got this dopey look.” Darcy plunked a tea bag in a cup of water, then shoved it in the microwave.

  Like I said, she and I didn’t mix well in a one-on-one setting. Sometimes I had the urge to slap her—like now. Before my first cup, I was zombified and crankier than usual. When you factored in sleep deprivation, my grumpy side only got worse.

  Besides, I don’t trust tea drinkers—or at least the ones who don’t drink coffee in the morning too—it’s unnatural. How do they function?

  “I’ve been busy.” I grabbed a mug of my own and poured some half and half in it, as though it’d make my java fix come sooner.

  Come on, coffee. I’d make damn sure to get my fix at work from now on so I could avoid awkward conversations like this.

  “Doing what? Or should I say whom?” Her eyes were doing this suspicious squinty thing. And I hated her perfect freaking grammar. Who says whom? Darcy, that’s who…whom. Whatever.

  “I’ve been working.”

  I wasn’t about to tell her about my abandoned job at Ravage or about Malcolm. Darcy could be such a killjoy and she’d try to make me feel like crap about it.

  Although I hadn’t told Poppy what’d been going on, which I felt guilty about. One day soon, I’d have to sit her down and spill everything. I’m not sure what was holding me back. Maybe I was afraid she’d try to talk me out of it?

  “You’re lying.” She looked me up and down. “It has to be a guy.”

  “How’s the professor?”

  It was her turn to look uncomfortable, which made me smile.

  “Which one?” The microwave beeped, and Darcy grabbed her tea and squeezed some honey into it. All the while, her face was suspiciously blank.

  “The one you’re pining for.”

  “I’m not pining for anyone.”

  “Sure you are. Why haven’t you made a move on him?”

  “Is this guy your last gasp?”

  I narrowed me eyes. “Maybe.”

  “Then maybe something happened with the professor.”

  Hmm. I didn’t know about her recent comings and goings. Interesting.

  “Well, I hope you enjoy yourself while it lasts.” Her sneer was extra nasty.

  I frowned.

  “Come on, Kate. You use men until you get bored and move on to the next.”

  “I do not.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.” Nose high in the air, Darcy sauntered out of the room.

  Okay, so she could be a bitch, but maybe she had a point. My track record wasn’t the best—I’d never made a real connection before with a guy. Probably because of my shitty relationship with my father.

  As a rule, I didn’t trust men.

  Why would Malcolm be any different? Yet, we were honest with each other, open, and our sessions…dates…were intense. We always ended the evening in bed but he made me dinner and sometimes we went out.

  By any standard, we were dating.

  Too many deep thoughts for this time of the morning. I threw my coffee into a carrier and headed out the door to work.

  ***

  “Good morning, Kate.”

  Seth Bailey, the bane of my existence, stood next to me. Only he could make something as innocent as a greeting sound dirty.

  I shivered in disgust. “Morning.”

  I’d left my place two hours ago, and I was seated at the reception desk going through Malcolm’s correspondence, discarding the junk mail. The receptionist had gone downstairs to smoke a cigarette.

  Malcolm had an early morning meeting with the associates and said he’d call me into his office afterward. While I waited, my thoughts drifted. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Malcolm, fantasizing about him—imagining his hands roaming all over my body.

  I could hardly wait to see him again. Touch him.

  Until Seth harshed my sexy vibe with his dirty tone.

  “You look gorgeous, but then again, you always do.” Seth leaned over the desk, getting right in my face and way too close for comfort.

  The man was an ass, but I didn’t feel threatened by him. Weirded out, yes, but not scared because he’d never gotten handsy with me.

  My very first day here, he’d offered to buy me lunch, then proceeded to proposition me. It was the first and last invitation I’d accepted.

  Seth had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a tall
, lean frame. He had to be in his late twenties or early thirties. However, the problem wasn’t his looks—it was the attitude. For one thing, he did all the talking, and I hated the sleazy way he stared at my body.

  And he didn’t seem to care that I wasn’t into him. I think my lack of enthusiasm made him want me more, which was another bad sign. He’d pestered me for another lunch date for a couple of weeks afterward, but he’d eventually given up—until now. In a crappy turn of events, I’d gotten back on his radar.

  “Thanks.” I stood. “I’ve got to make some copies.” I didn’t, but it sounded like a great excuse to get away from him.

  “I’ll walk you to the copier.”

  Dammit.

  Since he’d called my bluff, I grabbed a random sheet of paper from the desk and stalked off.

  Seth fell into step beside me. “Got lunch plans today?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t offer more information or slow down.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Rude. He hadn’t even asked to be invited.

  “I’m meeting an old friend.” The lie popped into my head. “We haven’t seen each other since high school so—”

  “The more, the merrier, I say.” He smirked. “What’s your friend look like? Is she a hottie like you?”

  Eww.

  We walked into the copier room, and I was disappointed to find it deserted. Where was a nosy office gossip when you needed one?

  “Sorry, maybe another time.” I slapped the paper down, shut the lid, and jabbed a random number. I’d make a few copies and then flee the scene.

  “Damn. Do you always play so hard to get?” He eyed me, panning up and down the length of my body as if mentally filming porn for later.

  Ignoring him, I stared at the wall instead. I silently willed him to leave, to find someone else to harass. Or better yet, keep it in his pants and do some actual work.

  “You’re the first woman who’s ever turned me down.”

  I silently went through my options. I could tell him I didn’t appreciate his behavior. Yet, he hadn’t laid a hand on me, and his words were office-appropriate, even if his tone and intentions weren’t. Putting him in his place could get ugly, especially since he’d been here longer. And since I was engaged in a sexual relationship with my own boss, it complicated matters.

  Speaking of, I could run this by Malcolm and let him take care of it, but it was too extreme. I wanted Seth to leave me alone, not ruin his career—even though he was asking for it.

  There weren’t any good options in this situation.

  “That’s really hard to believe.” My tone was light, teasing. Learn to take a freaking hint, Seth.

  “Come on, Kate. Give a guy a break.”

  And then he got closer, standing behind me, and I could feel the heat from his body. It was too aggressive a move to ignore, so I had to shut this down.

  Acting class to the rescue.

  “Oh no, I’m going to be sick!” I clutched my stomach, as though I’d come down with the plague.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m going to puke.” I sprinted away from him and dashed down the hall to the ladies room—one place I knew he couldn’t follow me.

  Safe in a stall, I made a mental note to step up my avoidance game. I wouldn’t be caught alone with him again. If he got in my face, I’d go to human resources.

  It was the best bad option available.

  Later in the day, I was Seth-free. I’d seen Malcolm to “discuss” my duties for the day and to flirt a bit. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about Seth, but I’d decided against it.

  Just then, my phone buzzed, and my dad’s contact info popped up. He wanted to FaceTime with me. My jaw nearly hit the floor

  . He never called me— I was always the one who tracked him down.

  I was at the reception desk, covering the phones while most of the office was out to lunch, so I had a few minutes to talk. Thankfully, it was a quiet day, and I’d been catching up on some reading for my class.

  “Hello, Kate.” I could tell from his surroundings he was seated in his office at Adams Securities.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  Blond streaks ran through his light brown hair. Hmm. He’d been dying the gray out for a while, but he’d never gotten highlights before. I wondered if this was the latest step in his ongoing midlife crisis, right after get a young girlfriend and stay out all night like a frat boy.

  “Did you get the Starbucks gift card I sent?”

  “Yes, thanks.” I hadn’t seen him since my birthday, and he’d couriered over a $500 gift card. It was a generous present, but I’d rather have dinner with him.

  “Good. Sorry I forgot your birthday. We’ll catch up one of these days, I promise.”

  Like all of our conversations, this one was awkward and stilted. And I wouldn’t be holding my breath on his promise. It couldn’t be more obvious—he had no desire to spend time with me.

  And I was a needy idiot for pushing him to like me. He’d always been a good provider, but he’d never be the father figure I craved. I was twenty-one, so I needed to grow the hell up and accept it.

  “Look, I called for a reason. You’ve got some boxes in the crawlspace, and I need you to pick them up soon.”

  “Why?”

  When I’d moved out of his place before freshman year, I’d packed up the remains of my room and stored the rest of it in boxes. Dad wanted a guest room, which he said I could use whenever I stayed over for the weekend, even though I never had.

  “I need a change of pace, so I’m taking the early retirement option. Instead, I’ll be running a hedge fund in sunny L.A.”

  “You’re moving to the other side of the country? When?”

  “Soon. I’ve got a few logistics to figure out, but I’ll probably be gone by the end of the month.”

  “That’s fast.” A hard knot settled in my stomach.

  “It might seem that way to you, but I’ve been working on this move for months.”

  “And you didn’t tell me about it?” I could feel the tears threatening to fall, but I dug my fingernails into my palm, trying to hold them back.

  Dad turned his head, looking away from the camera, and a muscle worked in his jaw.

  “I didn’t want to involve you until I knew for sure, not until I’d made some decisions.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, I’m selling the apartment, and if you want the boxes, you’ll have to pick them up.”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.” He sighed, and his features visibly relaxed. Had he been dreading this call? “This move could be good for me. Maybe I’ll crunch numbers during the day and spend the night on the beach.”

  “I could come visit you…?”

  His face went blank.

  As soon as I said the words, I regretted them.

  “That’d be nice.” His smile was plastic. “Maybe we’ll work something out, but we’re both adults now, Kate, and we have our own lives to lead. This move might be good for both of us. Call the lawyer if you need anything—he’s in charge of your trust fund.” Dad checked his watch. “Hey, I’ve got a lunch. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Sure.”

  The call ended, and I set the phone down with chilled fingertips.

  It was clear—my father’s fabulous new life in L.A. wouldn’t include me.

  This time, when I dashed to the bathroom, I actually threw up.

  ***

  Much later in the day, I was at Malcolm’s apartment.

  My arms were tied behind my back, a gag was in my mouth, and I was laid out at his feet, facedown. Since my dual encounters with Darcy and Seth—not to mention the cold call from my dad—I’d been having a bit of a day.

  And I’d taken my misery out on Malcolm.

  I’d been extra bitchy, snapping at him and hardly speaking, which is how I found myself trussed up.

  Malcolm was going to fuck and punish me, and I could hardly wait. I’d been unconsciously pushing h
im toward this all night.

  He had a paddle in his hand, smacking it against his own palm. I could hear the loud sound of the slaps, almost feel the sting. I wanted him to scold me, needed it.

  So I braced myself for impact—any minute now, he’d let loose. And I’d feel better again—released. Every time he worked me over, I felt better—and I wasn’t talking about an orgasm.

  Instead, he tossed the paddle on the floor with a muttered curse. And then Malcolm was taking off the ropes, freeing me when I didn’t want to be turned loose.

  “What are you doing? I thought we were playing.” I wrapped my arms around my legs, curling up into a ball.

  “Not now, not like this.” Malcolm swung me up into his arms and carried me to the couch, then placed me on his lap.” What the fuck is going on with you tonight? What happened?” He cupped my face in his hands and looked into my eyes. His were big and blue—full of kindness, concern.

  I glanced away because I couldn’t take it. How could he look at me with such concern when my mom abandoned me and my own father wanted to put nearly 3,000 miles between us? There had to be something wrong with me—I was flawed in some fundamental way.

  Any second now, I’d spill my guts.

  I shoved at his chest, trying to push him away, but he refused to let go. Instead, he held me, rocked me, placing his chin on the top of my head.

  “Stop it, Kate, stop fighting me. I’m not one of those sadistic bastards who gets off on causing pain. I can tell you’re hurting. Talk to me.”

  The problem was, I didn’t know how to talk about it. My throat ached, I couldn’t make the words come, yet I desperately wanted to say something, anything to explain myself. But whenever I hurt, I flipped off the world.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. Something’s bothering you.”

  “I'm all right.”

  My dad’s rejection was too painful, too raw to discuss. And I was afraid if I let my guard down, all of it would come spilling out. Then where I would be? Even more screwed.

  Funny, right? I wanted Malcolm to hurt me, but I couldn’t stand the emotional pain.

  “You’re not.”

  I stood, and he let me go. “So…what? You’d like crawl into my head and poke around too?”