“What do you want, Gavin?”
“You were waiting for me.” It wasn’t a question─ just a statement that hung in the air.
“No, stalker, I was not. Go home. I am not interested.” I hang up the call and almost make it back to my spot on the couch when a knock thunders out from my front door, freezing my heart in my chest.
Stomping to the door in a most pissed-off manner, I unlock it without looking through the peephole and swing it wide open in exasperation, causing my robe to fall from my shoulders. My hands catch it in time and hold it to my breasts. He is there, leaning casually in the door frame without a care in the world. His jeans and a fitted V-neck sweater cling to every inch of him in a devastating invitation as the scent of aftershave deliciously beckons me.
“What the feck? Mr. GQ, it’s a bit late for your fuckery. Go Home!” I make to slam the door but he catches it and lets himself in before closing and locking the door behind him. My heart leaps into my throat as I try to comprehend what is taking place. He shouldn’t be here; this should not be happening. This is wrong. He strolls in nonchalantly and sits on the couch as if it were any lazy afternoon.
Stunned by the events transpiring, unsure of whether or not to call the cops or not, my feet are cemented and mouth remains gawking.
“Can I have one of those?” He lifts his chin to my beer, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes as I stand there clutching the soft fabric to my barely covered breasts while attempting not to drop my beer while wrapping my neurons around what is happening. The sounding out of a throat noisily being cleared snaps me out it.
Sourly heading into the kitchen to grab him one from the icebox, I head back into the sitting room while my mind continues to whirl. Passively handing it over with an incomprehensible grunt, I make my way over his long legs to curl back up in my spot on the sofa. Even though I cast him a suspicious eye from time to time, we exist in companionable silence in between pulls of our longnecks. Though he has caught me off-guard, I sense no threat and begin to slightly calm.
“Why are you here, Gavin?” I finally break the ice, tired of his games and beyond ready for bed.
“To apologize.”
I almost spit out my beer and find myself sputtering, thankful for the sleeve of my robe to catch it.
“Is it that absurd that I do? I should have not broken your trust by viewing your company records. I couldn’t help myself. After our night together, I found myself unable to stay away. Breaking your trust was the least of my intentions. Trust is a fragile thing, yet powerful all in the same.” Gone is his arrogance, and a genuine attempt is what seems to be taking place. His typically stern face is relaxed, uncomfortable even.
“Yes, it is the foundation on which your lifestyle is based, the seat upon which the power exchange sits. I understand,” my mouth absently validates.
“I cannot remember the last time I gave in and made love the way we did─ unrestrained, unrefined, raw. My intent, at first, was simply sex, but our undeniable chemistry overtook and intoxicated the mood. The force in which you make love is unforgettable. It made me abandon myself. You syphoned my power and left me freed. For the first time, I believe I may have had a taste of what a submissive feels─ a rush in the release.” He slams the rest of his beer, sets it down, and sits back to take in my expression.
I must look as shocked as I did the day my sister told me Santa Claus didn’t exist, threatening my fragile world of fantasy and myth that enraptured me. At the fragile age of eight, I had sworn up and down I was really a faery, placed in the arms of humans for my safekeeping until they could come back for me. The phase drove my mother mad. And Santa was very real─ until my sister shattered that.
After picking my jaw up off the floor, I place the beer on the table, not trusting my ability to swallow. “I don’t know what to say. That wasn’t a planned event; things have been different and off all around since the other night.” Thoughtfulness and reflection cloud my mind.
“Can I ask an honest question?” He brings his hands up behind his head to lounge.
“Sure.” The relaxed theme is doing our hardheaded demeanors well.
“Did you feel anything different when we were together, or was it just me?”
Do I answer honestly? Can I lie to him? No, I cannot, even if his confession is part of a mind game. It has never been in my nature to outright lie to people.
“Yes. I’ve never connected with someone on that level.” Stop there, Sorcha. Stop while you are ahead. Expecting another shit-eating grin on his face when I glance over, I am surprised to see him look conflicted, pained in a sense. And there we sat, staring at each other with equal measures of perplexity.
“Samuel said dating isn’t your style.” The thought seems to add to the hallow expression set deep within the lines of his freshly shaven face.
“What else did he say?” I try not to growl. Fucking Samuel.
“Calm down; I didn’t interrogate him. Just wanted to know if the guy in the bar was more than an obvious fling.”
“Jealous much? I’m surprised you care. Dating doesn’t seem much of your thing either from what I hear.” My snarky tone can’t be missed, still perturbed how this supposed one night of ecstasy has been tracking me down.
“Yes I am, and no, dating isn’t my typical style either. Shit, all of this is foreign and quite the inconvenience. I don’t have time for this, but it feels foolish to walk away.” His simple honesty stuns me in its purity. I had expected him to tell me something he thought I might want to hear.
Sucking in my breath, I grab the beer, drain it, and make my way to the kitchen for the bottle of vodka. Foregoing a glass, the bottle comes back to my seat.
“Samuel doesn’t think we are a good match. Your Dom style and my non-sub, promiscuous tendencies and what not,” I inadvertently sigh as my fingers tuck the escaped loose tendrils of brown hair back behind my ear.
“You did the interrogating then?” he laughs.
“No, unsolicited advice after you showed up and it became obvious.” My head shakes back and forth in disbelief.
“Can we try?”
Unscrewing the top of the vodka and stealing a mouthful to cover a rising cough, my stomach flips as it receives the contents. Did I hear the bastard right?
“Gavin, try what?”
“Playing dumb isn’t your strong suit,” he grumbles.
“I’m sorry I needed clarification on a question posed by a complete stranger,” I smart back.
“Strangers, perhaps in some sense. But I believe our connection negates the simple fact that we have not spent much time with one another.”
“I don’t do monogamy, if that is what you are suggesting. I don’t date either, period. The friends and relationships I have are because they respect my life choices and there are no reciprocated desires,” I sputter over the words sending an unattractive slight mist of vodka out with them.
“I am not asking for commitment. I am asking to see you on a continual basis, have as much sex as we desire, and see from there,” he counters in a way that is quite telling. ‘See from there’ is just the beginning.
“Ah, finally, clarification. Here is the thing, you say no commitment, which means we are free to have sex others. But you were jealous of one of my flings and made an arse of yourself. I don’t do that bullshit. I won’t,” I say more to myself than to him. Did this tall drink of water really have me considering one of my big boundaries?
“You had no sense of jealousy?” he asks in disbelief.
“Of Carolyn? God no!” I laugh out loud. Carolyn is sweet and all, but a few short of a full deck.
“You are that secure in yourself?” Why does he seem surprised in that?
“Yes, and smart enough to see through your games. That is another thing I don’t do─ playboys.” I momentarily become quite interested in the label of the bottle in my hands.
“But you did me all night long Thursday.” His tone takes a devious turn, his voice like satin, stripped of the innoc
ent and honest conversation we were having, his eyes narrowing in on my lower half.
“Ignorance is bliss,” I challenge, drawing his attention back to my face.
“Sorcha…” There it is again, my name on his lips with perfect lilt and pronunciation… S-U-R-R-A K-A.
“My American friends and some family call me Sorka, Sore-Sha or Sor for short. But you get it perfectly, the way my daddy intended when he named me. Is it true you ran with the Irish mob?” My analytical brain cannot stop processing details, trying to pair up facts to make sense of this… situation that has deemed itself out of my control.
“No, not in the capacity you may be thinking. I was paid for a service to perform investigative work and such from time to time, behind the scenes. It was nothing more than if anyone from the street had paid me; it was all legit. Any other rumors you care to discuss?” The planes of his face suggest I should let it go as he won’t be venturing to tell me more. Many of the staff members have said how scary this man can be… yet I don’t quite see it. To me, he appears hardened by time but worn out all the same. Not at all threatening, not really.
“How many waitresses have you banged?” Now it is his turn to almost spit out the vodka he stole from me seconds ago.
“How many out-of-town visitors have you?” His eyes narrow, not really ready to hear an honest truth as jealousy taints the air once more.
“I am serious.”
“Fine, none. I told you, I don’t do vanilla sex, especially with employees, ever.”
“How did that fan club of yours get going then, with all the rumors?”
“I’ve worked over a few in the dungeon, but never had sex with them. I am guessing that is how. Is that all?” He eyes the top of my breasts peeking through the parted robe.
“How did you find out who I was?” His intrusion into my privacy left me feeling violated in a sense.
“Your application to the dungeon. Everything cross-referenced into your employment as Daz owns both. I swear that, I didn’t know who you were beforehand. Anything else?”
“For now.” My tired brain is becoming fuzzy and ready to turn off for a few hours.
“Is that a yes then?”
“No!” I grab the bottle back from his meaty paw and take another sip.
“How about another proposition?” he excitedly asks, amber eyes shining in hope.
“You don’t stop, do you?” My head comes to rest on the back of the cool leather, grateful for being one step closer to lying down.
“Not when I see something I want. One more time together, if it is as intense as it was last time, we agree to see each other again. If it is a fluke, and neither of us agrees to continue, I will slither back under the rock in which I came.” He puts his hand over his heart in a Boy Scout-type pledge, laying on an innocent expression so thick; I think it might need to be outlawed. It should be illegal for a face as handsome as his to pull it off to that degree.
His proposition becomes appealing as the alcohol kicks in enough to make me relaxed while still keeping my wits about me. Would it be so bad to give it a go? I have been fantasizing about him nonstop since our rendezvous. Our rational and open, adult-like communication has put me at ease and tells me more about a healthy exchange than I thought possible.
“No strings attached? If at any point it becomes too much, you will gracefully bow out? No jealousy if I want to go home with another?” Sex this good wasn’t going to last and the thrill of my lifestyle keeps my beast fed so that it doesn’t get bored and start distracting me from other important matters. Sex and art, my two main stress outlets.
“You are assuming that it will be just as good as last time, then?” He grins a sexy, panty dropping-smile that has me speechless.
“No answer?” I peg him to agree to my terms.
“You drive a hard bargain. I will not make promises that I cannot keep. But bowing out, I can keep that one.”
While contemplating that with another sip of liquid courage, I sneak another glance at him. He had to be over six feet tall, handsome face reminiscent of a Hemsworth brother but with a better, thicker muscular build and warm eyes that sparkle with excitement as they assess me. He knows I am considering it. Truth be told, I have been longing for him in a way I have never longed after a lover before. I simply don’t want to admit it.
My resolve evaporates with the slight brush of his hand along my bare thigh. With my motto being follow the heart’s desires, I stand, drop the robe, and head to the bed just behind the TV, which is barely separated by a Japanese room divider. Gavin quickly follows, strips, and joins me among the downy comfort and oversized pillows, no words needed.
When he leans in to claim my mouth, sparks ignite and the same urgency as before takes over as we lose ourselves to mind-blowing passion. There is no role exchange or edgy play pushing me further than I am ready to go; there is only us, stripped down and open wide for one another on a level neither of us is comfortable with. As the sun rises in the sky, I do something else I have never done, fall asleep in someone’s arms, for the entire morning.
Chapter 6
Sorcha
My alarm sounds out at two PM, pulling me out of a deep slumber to distressingly find a warm body next to me. I jump in startled fashion, waking the cause of my grief. A sexy grin creeps across his five o’clock shadow, which is perfectly paired with his bed-tousled hair. The urge to scream is stifled in my throat by the realization of his inviting presence, replaced by one to grab my camera and capture the careless way the afternoon light is dancing across his features. That is halted though as he pulls me back down into the depths of the bed.
“I startled you? That must mean you don’t let anyone spend the night,” he muses into my hair, following it with feather-light kisses down my neck.
“Never,” I sigh from parted lips.
“Never? I am your first? Well then.” He leans in and kisses me passionately, effortlessly lulling the mood back into an aroused state.
“Looks like you might have been right,” he mumbles against my mouth.
“Uh? Right…about what?” The fog his affections have planted robs me of any clear thinking abilities.
“To assume we would make it to the part where we have to worry about jealousy.” Gavin playfully bends to nip at my nipple, sending a surge of heat through my body. The sight of his glorious, naked, chiseled perfection makes me want to get down on my knees and thank the heavens. His ink ripples as his muscles move his heft down my body, bringing the unique art to life.
“Now you are the one assuming it was that good for me,” I gasp as he clamps down harder on the sensitive, peaked flesh.
Pinning my wrists together and moving them up and over my head with one large hand, the other sinks below the blankets to tease my clit as he moves to kiss me again. As his fingers continue to dance down to my rosette, I freeze. My heart suddenly pounds in my ears as I stare up and back at my unique, hand-carved mandala headboard, seeking tranquility from the fear.
“Virgin ass?”
I silently nod under his lips in reply.
“Another first. I will remedy that tonight after work,” he devilishly promises.
My stomach flips at the finality in his statement. We are to be together again, tonight, and he wants to breach my virgin ass. I am not sure how I feel about that.
“Stop over thinking it. I will take care of you, always. When it comes to sex, I will never push you farther than you can handle as your trust and safety mean more to me than anything. Do you understand?” His dominant personality peaks with frank undertones as his sincerity burns me by way of a heady, whiskey gaze. Something about him makes me trust that that is true. Come to think about it, he hasn’t set off my internal alarms at all as of yet. Even when he was breaking and entering via human resources, that held true. It was his direct approach and disregard for my privacy that pissed me off, but it never broke the trust and faith he seems to naturally command.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“G
ood. Let’s shower and get some food in us.” The way he says it tells me that that he is trying to be less authoritative for my benefit, but he is failing. Gavin is dominant to the core and that won’t be easily hidden.
Gavin got a bit frisky in the shower, big surprise, but the only thing that saves my chaste bum is the fact that we are out of condoms and I am beginning to feel ‘hangry.’ Both doing nothing for one another. Horny and ‘hangry?’ Watch out!
“You are on your own for food; I have plans,” I plainly inform my houseguest without much thought.
“Which are?” He penetrates me with those damn eyes, again, attempting to will the information out of me.
“Don’t,” I caution with a hand on hip. He is not allowed to get all nosy about my life because he was allowed to stay the night. It is bad enough I even allowed him to, let alone am considering letting him come back tonight to do things to me that I have never considered with anyone else. Crap, let him? Part of me is bursting with excitement over the whole damn possibility. Fuck inner goddess, he’s yanked my inner slut out, lavishing her beyond her wildest dreams and she’ll be damned if she goes back into the closet quietly.
“Fine. But if we are practicing honesty and trust with one another, would it be so hard to tell me?” He pulls out his boyish, innocent grin that simultaneously makes me want to melt and scold him for attempting to manipulate me.
Blowing out hard, I cross my arms over my barely contained chest and tap my bare foot, deep in thought. Sensing that I am on the verge of blowing up, he holds his hands up in defeat.
“Okay, forget it.” His dejection breaks my ever-lovin’ heart.
“This is sex, beyond that is unknown. Don’t forget that. Sunday afternoon, I meet my sister and friends for a meal. I do this every Sunday.” Jesus, that about gutted me. Why the hell am I compelled to let him in?
Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) Page 8