Debauched (Undone Book 3)

by Jennifer Dawson

  I’m going to be the man that witnesses the transformation.

  I lean down to the shell of her ear. “Ruby?”

  “Yes.” Her breath is hot against my skin.

  “I want you to spend the night.”

  She melts into me. “Okay.”

  Ruby

  “Ruby. Ruby!” A voice rips me from my wandering thoughts and I jerk in my office chair to look at my friend and coworker, Ryan Kemp. He flashes me a boyish grin. “What are you thinking about? I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

  “Nothing, nothing at all.” I will my cheeks not to heat.

  I’m doing it again. Staring off into space and thinking about Chad. After two weeks of his constant torture, I’m a mixture of exhausted and manic, running on my hundredth wind, mooning over a guy I hadn’t given a second’s thought to three months ago.

  Ryan slaps his hands on my desk and leans forward in excitement. “Is this about a guy? Did you finally score the bass player?”

  Ryan works with me in the graphics department and looks like he should be a surfer in Southern California, instead of suffering through Chicago weather. He’s blond, with light golden-brown eyes, and a tall, lanky build. He has the most charming smile and is unbelievably good looking. He’s also gay. Two years ago, we bonded in the break room over a love of music and the musicians that break our hearts. He’s my best work friend.

  I have said nothing about Chad. I still don’t know what to say.

  No matter how I try, I can’t stop the heat crawling up my neck. I don’t know why I am so nervous and skittish to talk about Chad, but I am. Everything we’re doing feels so incredibly intimate, so unbearably private. It’s like a part of me believes that anyone who sees me will instantly guess what we are doing together. How much he’s coming to mean to me.

  In my vast history of dating, nobody has ever attempted to learn me the way Chad has, and he’s fast becoming an addiction. But like any addict, I want to hide him away so nobody can guess the havoc he’s causing in my life.

  I shake my head. “Nope. The bass player is off my radar.”

  Ryan narrows his eyes, peering at me intently. “Then who is it?”

  “Nobody.” I tsk and roll my eyes. “Not everything has to do with guys.”

  Ryan waves a finger over me in a big circle. “There’s only one thing that puts that look on your face. A hot musician. So spill.”

  Hot musicians seem so simple now. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Yes.”

  My text buzzes and my stomach leaps when I see Chad’s name on the screen.

  Ryan leans over the wall of my cubical. “Is that him?”

  “No!” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.

  “Chad, huh?” Ryan waggles his eyebrows. “Sounds preppy.”

  “You can go now.” I point in the direction of his cube, two down from me. We used to sit right next to each other, but we got moved around and separated when the new girl came. We try not to hold it against her.

  Ryan raises a brow. “Is he preppy?”

  He’s not going to give up and he knows me too well. I sigh. “Yes.”

  “What instrument does he play?”

  I smile and tilt my head to the side. “SQL.”

  Ryan’s expression widens in surprise. “He’s not a musician?”

  I shake my head, feeling like I’m betraying some sort of secret, unspoken code by dating a grown up. I lower my voice and whisper as though I’m saying something obscene, “He’s an IT guy.”

  Ryan bursts out laughing. “When can I meet him?”

  “Never,” I hiss, before waving him away. “Now go.”

  My phone beeps again and it’s Layla. I pick up my phone. “I have to get this.”

  “Don’t want to leave Chad waiting, huh?” Ryan grins at me. “Don’t forget to play hard to get.”

  Brow furrowing, I stare down at my screen and realize with a sudden strangeness that I don’t have to play those kinds of games with Chad. That I don’t have to play any games. In the brief time I’ve been with him I always know exactly what to expect. There is no guesswork. Even more strange, I like it.

  I break all my rules for him. Every single one of them. I’m emotional and vulnerable. I make confessions like they are going out of style. I’ve learned over the past two weeks that I can be completely honest with someone. For the first time in my life, I feel authentic. Every time I admit that I’m scared, or insecure, I gain a tiny bit of freedom.

  Before Chad, I believed I’d be bored to tears without any sort of angst and drama. That nice, stable guys weren’t my cup of tea. My experience has always been that if a guy is too into me, I somehow lost interest in him. But I don’t feel like that at all with Chad. If anything, I am more infatuated than I’ve been in forever.

  Why don’t I feel like that though? Shouldn’t his utter conviction and commitment to spending time with me be a turn off?

  For the millionth time I wonder what he’s doing to me. How he’s doing it.

  I swipe the screen and look at his text. I’ll miss seeing you tonight. Sing pretty.

  I sing at The Whisky tonight and won’t be seeing him. I text back, I’ll miss you too.

  It’s not a lie. I will miss him. Miss talking to him. Miss the way he kisses me. Touches me. The way I squirm as I silently urge him to take things further, even though I know he won’t. I’ve never been preoccupied by sex before. It’s strange, disconcerting and intoxicating. It’s like he’s an itch right under my skin.

  A buzz on my phone. If you come tonight, I insist you call me and tell me about it.

  A strange urge creeps over my skin. The urge to test. To see what he does. I don’t know what I’m hoping for but I don’t resist. And if I don’t?

  I hold my breath, waiting for his response, not sure what I want him to say. His dominance lurks in the back of my mind, like a monster in a closet I don’t want to open but keep turning back toward, over and over again. In the time I’ve spent with him he’s never pushed me the way I have seen Michael and Leo push. Has never overtly ordered me to do something.

  But there is…something…and part of me is waiting. I don’t want to deal with it because I’m certain it will be our undoing. I’m not like Layla and Jillian and never will be. Someday, I’ll have to confront it, but I don’t want it to be today.

  Yet, here I am, testing to see what he’ll do.

  While I wait, I look at Layla’s text, asking me if Chad and I are coming to dinner tomorrow.

  My stomach flutters and I study my computer screen displaying the graphics for the ad campaign I’m working on. I’ve been avoiding. I swirl my mouse, and feign like I’m going to do some actual work, but really I’m waiting for the sound of my phone.

  It comes five minutes later, and I about jump out of my chair before lunging for my phone.

  Your orgasms belong to me now.

  I stare at the words, reading them over and over until they blur together. Excitement and panic bounce across my skin, making me hot. How am I supposed to respond to that? And why do I like the way that sounds?

  Chad has a way of describing things, of talking, that sends the type of lust I thought people made up, flooding through my system. Between his wicked tongue, skilled hands, talented mouth, and a patience that continues to shock me, my body is coming alive for the first time.

  It makes me hope. And dread that day where he finally tries and I fail.

  He repeats over and over again that doesn’t define me as a woman. While I appreciate the words, I don’t believe them. The truth is I want what everyone else has. I’m not saying it’s everything, but it is important. It’s something I can’t give him, no matter how hot he makes me. No matter how he makes me believe.

  I read his words again. I have no idea how to respond so that’s what I text. What am I supposed to say to that?

  His response comes a minute later. All you need to say is yes, Chad, I will call you.

  I try a
nd imagine what Layla might say, or Jillian, but I have no idea, and as much as part of me wants to test I’m not ready to confront that topic that sits between us. I type back. Okay.

  Good girl.

  I shiver and my stomach heats. The first time I heard Michael call Layla that I’d been appalled, the words were ones you said to a dog or a child in a cooing voice. But I can’t deny when Chad calls me that it morphs into the best two words to ever grace my ears.

  Thinking of Layla, I turn back to her text. She wants to know about dinner. I haven’t said anything to Chad. I bite my lip. I’m not ready yet. They are a tough group to be around, and I am not ready to watch the way they are with each other, knowing Chad’s ignoring that part of himself for me. I tell her we can’t because he has to work.

  There’s nothing wrong with avoiding it for a little while. It’s too new and I feel too exposed.

  I need to stay in this bubble where it’s just him and me. Where I can pretend all this other stuff doesn’t exist.

  Chad

  With Ruby working, I meet Michael and Leo at Brandon’s new club, The Lair, for a few drinks. When I’d gone out with Layla on a blind date over a year ago I’d never expected to see her again. I’d never thought I’d end up becoming friends with her fiancé and his friends.

  But life is funny, and things have a way of working out in ways you least expect.

  The guy who introduced me to the scene back in college was way more hardcore than I’ll ever be and his crowd liked the extreme. They hung out at leather clubs, participated in slave auctions, and were into heavy degradation. While I was immediately attracted to dominance, I’ve never had any desire to treat women like objects meant exclusively for my pleasure.

  We quickly lost touch.

  My long-term, childhood friends are regular guys. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but there’s parts of me I don’t discuss with them. Begging their girlfriends for blowjobs are problems I just can’t relate to.

  On the other hand, Michael, Leo and Brandon are the first guys I’ve met like me and are fun to hang around with. They operate the same way I do. Their girls don’t call them sir or master. They aren’t into a lot of rituals or anything hardcore, nor do they refer to themselves in the third person. They are into the mental game of dominance. They are guys I can have a beer with, and casually mention I tied a naked girl to my coffee table for a couple of hours while the Bulls played just to watch her squirm.

  I slide into the booth in the corner Brandon reserves for us anytime he knows we’re coming in. Leo and Michael give me identical, sly grins.

  “Hey.” I ignore the looks and signal the waitress, a submissive girl named Mandy that took a liking to me Valentine’s Day, despite no encouragement from me. Her expression brightens when she spots me, and she hurries over, eagerness in the bounce of her step. She’s got on a short, tight, show-stopping black dress that highlights every attribute she has. She comes to stand in front of me and purrs, “Can I get you the usual, Sir?”

  Technically, Mandy is exactly my type. She’s beautiful, with her long brown hair and doe eyes. She’s also uncomplicated. She’s submissive, likes to play and doesn’t seem interested in commitment. For my busy life, she’s perfect, and wouldn’t make any emotional demands on me. Her one fault is that she thinks she’s in control, but I could disabuse her of that notion pretty quickly. On Valentine’s I thought about it for about half a second, before I dismissed her in favor of talking to the complicated, conflicted girl who sat next to me.

  To think, that night I’d only wanted to be Ruby’s anchor in an overwhelming situation, to soothe her and make her feel safe. To be her friend and ease her distress.

  Now I can’t get her out of my fucking head for two seconds.

  I smile at Mandy. “I’ll take Knob Creak, neat.”

  She trails a finger down my forearm. “A man after my own heart.”

  She turns and saunters away, her gait seductive and coy, fully expecting me to watch her retreating form. I swing back to Leo and Michael who are still grinning at me.

  I nod. “What’s up?”

  Michael wraps his fingers around his glass and gives me a sly look. “Layla is looking for intel.”

  I shrug. “She’s not going to get it from me.”

  Leo scrubs a hand over his jaw. “So, Ruby, huh? That’s interesting.”

  “Is it?” I keep my voice level.

  “Yeah,” Leo says, his expression amused. “We haven’t had this much excitement in a dog’s age.”

  “That’s sad.” Laughing, I point at Michael. “He got engaged.”

  “Everyone knew that was going to happen.” Leo shrugs a shoulder, before eyeing me with interest. “But this, nobody saw this coming.”

  “Except Brandon.” Michael points and I follow his gaze and spot Brandon Townsend the third heading in our direction.

  Brandon is old Chicago money and it shows. He’s got an aristocratic air about him with blond hair, blue eyes and high cheekbones. He’s tall, lanky and attracts women like he’s the Pied Piper of submissive girls.

  He owns the Underground club where Layla and Michael met, this club, the building where construction for offices is underway, an old, historic Chicago mansion in the Gold Coast, and god only knew what else.

  From what I understand he inherited a shitload of money but also has the Midas touch. Everything Brandon touches turns to gold. Jillian, Leo’s fiancée, found an unknown artist, Gaston Lamar, and Brandon has turned him into the talk of Chicago. In a few weeks, they are hosting a private art show for the guy, and made it so exclusive congressmen were begging for tickets.

  That’s how Brandon was. What he did. The two of us talked a few times about going in on a development, maybe condos, because he liked how I did things, but we’d yet to find the right project, and neither one of us was impatient. I knew we’d find something though, and when we did, I had no doubt they’d be sold before we even started construction and we’d make money hand over fist.

  Brandon came to stand in front of the table a smile on his lips. He held out a palm. “You both owe me twenty bucks.”

  Leo and Michael both sigh and dig money out of their pockets, tossing it on the table.

  I furrow my brow. “What did I miss?”

  Brandon grins at me. “On Valentine’s Day I called you hooking up with Ruby, they said I was crazy. We wagered. They lost.”

  I shake my head. “You’re betting on my love life?”

  Michael shrugged. “He was being a real prick about it.”

  “We thought it would shut him up,” Leo says.

  Brandon slid into the booth next to me. “Thanks for proving me right.” He scoops up the money. “This will buy a round of drinks tomorrow night.”

  Confused, I ask, “What’s tomorrow night?”

  Before anyone can answer, Mandy comes back with my drink, and slides it in front of me. She glances at Brandon, before her gaze darts away. She clears her throat. “Is there anything else, Sir?”

  We shake our heads and, timid as a mouse, with none of her customary flirt, she walks away.

  “What’s that about?” I ask.

  Brandon’s expression twists in annoyance. “She fucked my manager, in my office no less. She’s lucky I didn’t fire her.”

  I laugh. Obviously, Mandy wasn’t too hung up on me.

  From my experience there’s not much that Brandon is not up for, and sex seems to be his vice of choice, but he doesn’t tolerate subordinates fucking around with his management.

  Brandon frowns. “Laugh if you will, but now I need a new manager. Maybe I’ll go female this time around. Someone who won’t take shit from anyone and believes in rules.”

  “You fired the guy?” Michael asks. “You’re a hard ass.”

  “Of course I fired him. I have more tolerance for Mandy, who can’t help she likes attention from men in power, but he was supposed to be in charge, and no fucking the staff is one of my only requirements. I’m not about to get s
tuck with a sexual harassment suit because he can’t keep his dick in his pants for five minutes.” Brandon still looks irritated by the whole situation. “I walked right in on them. Idiots didn’t think to lock the door. How can I have someone that stupid working for me and handling money?”

  Leo scrubs a hand over his jaw. “On your couch?”

  Brandon scoffs. “Yes, on the couch.”

  Leo shrugs a shoulder. “In fairness, it’s kind of entrapment, that couch begs to be fucked on.”

  “I know,” Brandon says, shaking his head. “I bought it so I could fuck on it, not my employees.”

  Both Leo’s and Michael’s faces turn smug. I laugh, jutting my chin on them. “I think it’s made the rounds.”

  Brandon zeros in on Michael, his expression full of cunning. “Your sister doesn’t surprise me, she’s such a depraved little girl and I do enjoy when Leo makes her squirm in front of me. But sweet, innocent Layla?”

  Leo rolls his eyes. “Be nice.”

  Michael blanches and narrows his gaze. “You’re an asshole.”

  But the three of them laugh, because it’s all in good fun. They seem to make the best of the fact that Michael’s sister is marrying his best friend and that calls for some awkward situations.

  Brandon sighs, the corners of his mouth dipping. “Well, that little Mandy is skating on thin ice, so she’d better quake before me if she wants to keep working here.”

  Not willing to allow another tangent, I return to the round of drinks Brandon mentioned. “What’s going on tomorrow?”

  Michael squints, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “We’re going to dinner. Layla said she asked Ruby.”

  “I see.” Ruby never said a word. And wasn’t that interesting? Learning Ruby is a challenge but there are a few things I understand about her. While she might sing in front of a room of strangers, she prefers to stay in the background. And going to dinner with everyone would put the spotlight on her. So she’s avoiding.

  “She told Layla you had to work,” Michael says.