Waiting For Me

by Ava Claire

  If people laughed or talked shit about my clothes after that fight, they did it out of earshot from then on.

  Somehow, I channeled the anger, learned how to smile and say all the right things. Found a family that didn’t return me like damaged merchandise. All those years of pretending I was normal was the product of watching people, young and old, dissecting behaviors and mannerisms. I could read and interpret people like reading a book.

  I situated my shades over my eyes, gazing at the woman I thought I had pegged. My little sub who refused to admit her desires. Fair enough; I’d been the first dominant to a fledgling submissive before. But I couldn’t put her in the same box as any of the others I’d taken to bed. It was easy to cut ties with them, to forget them as quickly as they swept into my life. Melissa Foster was different.

  The wind combed over her white blonde strands, tugging the back of her T-shirt. She tilted her head like she could feel my eyes on her. Her eyes roped me in, her lips parted. She gave me the slightest of nods, then turned her attention back to the ocean. I didn’t know if it was an invitation or acquiescence. I decided to go with the latter.

  I strode toward the place where the sand met concrete. I couldn’t read her from across a table, or deep inside her, but I’d put that aside for now and settle for just talking to her.

  I kicked off my shoes and trekked through the warm sand. She glanced down at my feet when I stopped beside her. She turned her pretty blue eyes upward, shielding herself from the sun with her hand.

  “Where are your shoes?”

  “Back at the gate,” I answered slowly, not sure how the location of my shoes was relevant.

  She craned her neck back toward the gate. “You just left them there? What if someone takes them?”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Then I’ll buy another pair.”

  She whipped back to the front so quickly my neck hurt. “Of course. Because you’re a billionaire.”

  I lowered myself next to her, dusting sand from my hands. “And I don’t have appreciation for anything or anyone, right?”

  “How could you, when you can have anything under the sun?”

  “Because I know what it’s like to have nothing.”

  She peered over at me, surprise rounding her gorgeous features. I saw the questions. I could answer them all, but my brief walk through my memories earlier was enough reminiscing for the moment.

  “So you know some things about me, so I feel it’s only fair to balance the scales.”

  Her cheeks reddened as she tucked wayward strands of gold hair behind her ears. “Nothing I have to say comes close to dating celebrities and the jetset life.”

  “You’re much more interesting than you give yourself credit for, Melissa.”

  Her cheeks darkened to the most arousing red, but she tossed her hair and folded her legs beneath her. “Alright. I was raised by my dad. Spent most of my life in Raleigh, until my dad moved his ad firm to Sacramento. Graduated from Sac State, and I worked at my dad’s firm...” She trailed off, watching her toes as she buried them in the sand.

  “What is it?” I asked softly.

  “Never realized how boring my life story was until I said it out loud.”

  “Boring is subjective.” I smiled as she snorted and brought her knees closer to her chest. “What about your passions? Any great loves?”

  I’d been trying to alleviate some of the pressure, but if she made herself any smaller, she’d disappear. The anger I’d felt in the car when she brought up her ex roared back to the surface. I’d kicked the wasp’s nest.

  “I thought I had a great love,” she said, her voice low and cradled in hurt. She released a bitter chuckle that turned the salty air to frost. “Well, maybe not a great love, but it was love. I loved him all of my life. We were best friends for forever, and when my...” Her voice splintered and the urge to find this boy and beat him bloody returned with a vengeance.

  She drew a lazy circle in the sand with her pointer finger, concentrating on its contours. I didn’t even have to break a sweat to know that whatever he’d done was the reason her reservation had changed from two tenants to one...and he was the last thing she wanted to discuss.

  No problem. Any more talk of a man who brought my tiny gladiator to her knees would result in using my resources to make his life hell.

  “How about you?” She broke the silence. “What happened with you and Delilah?”

  I wanted to discuss Delilah James even less, but she’d opened up to me. Picked at a fresh wound; I could do the same. “First off, there was no me and Delilah.” I looked out at the water, blue and gray and crystal. I backtracked to the night I met the celebrity darling. “My company, Mason Acquisitions, was holding a charity benefit. My marketing coordinator had been teasing a special celebrity guest, and the room went wild when Delilah strutted onto the stage.”

  I remembered the slinky red number that clung to every curve, the coy little smile on her lips. She’d sought me out, fucked me with her dark brown eyes. That night I had her in the bathroom, wrists bound with my tie as I fucked her until she couldn’t walk straight. That memory should have made me hard as a rock, but time and drama drained all pleasure from every tryst we’d ever shared.

  “What we had was purely physical—”

  “But you were photographed out,” Melissa insisted, still tracing that damn circle. It was as if she was trying to convince herself that she was right about me. Conveniently not looking into my eyes to maintain her grip on her confirmation bias. “You were clearly more than just fuck buddies.”

  “Because some tabloid said so? Please,” I scoffed. “It’s in their best interest to sell their product, scoops on the famous. And who wouldn’t buy an ‘exclusive’ on the billionaire and the A-list actress?”

  She stopped her rotation. “So you two just hooked up.”

  “That’s right,” I nodded, even though she’d never know it since she’d turned her attention back to the water. I followed the line of her jaw, the stubborn set of it unyielding. “Lunch, dinner, drinks–all of the above can be enjoyed by friends, despite popular opinion.”

  “But you’re not friends anymore.”

  “Correct,” I said bluntly. “Our arrangement suited both parties just fine until she asked for more. I distanced myself and that’s when I discovered letting Delilah James in my life was an error, to say the least.” A colossal fuck up was closer to the truth. She started showing up at my office and my home, unannounced. Her calls and texts became incessant. I ignored my legal counsel when they suggested a restraining order, and then she released the Kraken...her legion of bloodthirsty fans. Texts, calls, even one package with white powder that forced us to evacuate Mason Acquisitions headquarters. Even though it ended up being flour, the damage was done.

  “So you really don’t do relationships?” Melissa asked gingerly. “Not ever.”

  Her face flitted through my mind. Not Delilah, her. A slice from my past that choked my heart.

  “I don’t do relationships anymore. Didn’t.” I corrected quickly as Melissa’s eyes narrowed. I put the past back where it belonged—behind me. The pull of Melissa was as strong as the waves that rushed to meet the sand. I brushed her hair from her eyes. “With you, things are different.”

  She nuzzled my hand, then squeezed her eyes shut and pulled away. “I’m a challenge, or a novelty since I’m nothing like the women you usually dat–” She paused. “Fuck.”

  “I admit, you are quite the challenge.” She popped her eyes open, murder in the bright blue things, but a reluctant smile was on her lips. Her smile burned brighter than the sun. I wanted to stand in its light and let everything else fade away. She moved her hand back to the sand, ready to pick back up with the circle. It was her nervous tick that betrayed her. Even though she acted like she was so sure of me, she wanted to be wrong.

  I put my hand over hers, stopping her. “And you’re not a novelty. You’re...” I searched for the right word to describe how powerful this attraction
was. It hit me and my lips curled as I said. “Mine.”

  5

  ****

  I abided her silence for the duration of the ride back to the house, but when she threw open her door and marched towards the studio, the Dom in me reached his limit.

  “Stop right there.”

  She did, then caught herself and whipped to face me. “I don't respond well to orders, Logan.” Her nostrils flared. “Or being reduced to some possession that you own.”

  I frowned. “That's what this is about?”

  “'You're mine'?” she spat. She jerked her thumb backward, pointing at herself. “No, I'm mine. Most of my life I was my dad's. I did everything to make him notice me. To make him see me. Even after I followed in his footsteps, I fade into the sea of his other employees. The only way he gives me a second glance is if I screw up.” Her voice wavered. “I belonged to Jason. I was his, I told him things, gave him pieces of me, but it wasn't enough. He was everything to me, but to him I was replaceable.”

  The tears that built in her eyes stirred the fire in my gut. “Any man that ever made you feel like you were something to be discarded—”

  “But don't you do the same thing?” she said tersely, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “You play and then you move on to the next. If Delilah freaking James can't hold your attention then how—”

  She hitched a breath as I held her, one hand cupping each cheek. Holding her steady. Forcing her to look me in the eye and hear every word.

  “You're not Delilah.”

  She sucked in a gasp, her cheeks darkening like she was offended. “Oh, I'm aware I'm not a—”

  I muted her retort with my lips. She didn't even put up a fight, her lips parting willingly with a tortured moan. It was the most beautiful surrender, my tongue dominating hers, dueling with hers, trying to put her worries to rest. She could stop putting Delilah on a pedestal, because she wasn't even a blip on my radar. Every part of me was tuned into Melissa. I felt the way she sucked in a breath when I took her bottom lip between my teeth and tugged. I felt her body becoming liquid and fluid beneath my touch. I pulled back, still holding her. Not wanting to let go. Her eyes were shut, lips still pursed like she was reliving the kiss.

  They fluttered open, her bruised pink lips trembling as she drug her tongue across it, collecting herself. “You're playing dirty.”

  “That's the only way to play,” I said huskily. I traced the outline of her lips with my finger, already planning its next destination. Down the nape of her neck, skating over the curvature of her breasts. Lingering at the nipple, flicking the nub as desire gripped her and stubbornness faded. Just as I was about to put my plan into action, I met those wild blue eyes and paused. I was the reader, so good at gauging reactions and determining how virtually anyone would proceed in any given situation, but she was evaluating me. Lip stuck out defiantly, but eyes electric and waiting for my touch.

  I trailed my finger down, noting the nervous swallow and slight tremor that rippled over her body as I stroked her collarbone. Even though I knew she’d be evasive, reluctant to admit what her body was shouting, I asked her anyway. “What are you thinking, Melissa?”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip, heat spreading across her face like wildfire. “Currently?” She sniffed, struggling to regain her composure. It was too late for all of that. She could deflect, but I could feel the lust radiating from her. Warm and lush and inviting. If I slipped my hand inside her pants and thrust my fingers inside her, I knew she’d coat me in her juices. From the way she tore into her lip, she wanted me to make it easy for her and just do the thing we both craved: take her. The need in me wanted to push her back against the palm tree and fuck her hard. The Dom in me refused to make it so easy.

  My fingers fanned out and clutched her throat. Not tightly, she wasn’t ready for that yet, but firm enough that I had her attention. Most women would have responded to the gesture in a disgusted, appalled fashion. Melissa’s breath quickened and her eyes widened in wonder.

  I relaxed my hold slightly, smiling on the inside. “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

  She licked her lips, her eyes dropping. When she looked back up, she gave me a grimace of a smile. “What was the question again?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Her lips quivered and my cock pulsed uncomfortably against my fly, wondering what her answer would be. Hoping for the words ‘I’m yours’, but not naïve enough to expect it.

  She lifted her chin, the edge returning to her voice. “I thought you weren’t touching me until I begged for it.”

  I smirked. “I’m afraid I have to break that promise. No touching? I couldn’t not touch you even if I wanted to.” My voice darkened. “But fucking you? That’s a different story.”

  I expected spunk. Attitude. Righteous indignation as she stomped away in a huff. Instead her eyes darkened in kind, accepting my challenge.

  So stubborn.

  Such a fighter.

  So fucking hot.

  She slid closer, her voice low and sensual. “You want me to beg for it? Beg for this?”

  She wouldn’t...oh, but she did. I gritted my teeth to keep my moan from escaping as she stroked my cock. Even though I ached to tear the clothing from her body and push her against the glass sliding door and slam inside her pussy, I couldn’t reward her bad behavior. Moan or not, she was holding rock hard evidence that a part of me was begging for her.

  Her lips curled deviously, a smug curve that I wanted to trace with my tongue.

  My voice was like gravel. “For someone that can’t admit their submissive tendencies, you seem to have brat down.”

  “Brat?” She batted her eyes with an innocence as guilty as sin.

  “That’s right.” It was the last thing I wanted, but I stopped her mid stroke. I gripped her wrist, holding her hand suspended above my engorged cock. All the blood in me diverted to my groin. Every part of me ached to be inside her. Between her lips. Between her thighs. But she needed to learn her place. “I’ve been playing fast and loose with the rules, but on this, I must insist.”

  Her nostrils flared defiantly. “You want me to say I’m submissive.”

  “That’s right.” I strode forward, driving her backwards until she was against the sliding glass door. My eyes raked over her, skimming the tight lines of her legs, the curve of her hips. The tease of the core I knew was slick beneath her leggings. The tease of her navel, drawing up and circling the taught nipple that beckoned me. Her chest heaved up and down, matching the shuddering excitement that stroked her cherry red lips. Her nostrils were the only thing holding on, all but releasing puffs of smoke like a bull with a matador in its sights. Her eyes, wide and blue, were all but begging. Begging me not to make her say the words.

  I wouldn’t make it that easy.

  I propped my hand on the door, smiling because I knew I had her right where I wanted her. “There’s no point in fighting it, Melissa.” I leaned down, lips brushing her ear. A delicious shiver rippled through her. Through me. “It’s just two words.”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. That slight show of vulnerability made me want to scoop her up. Protect her from all harm.

  “Deep down, I know that I have needs. I know that word is what I am, but saying it—” She stopped, licking her lips and smoothing her blonde hair away from her face. “If I say the word, I’m admitting he was right.”

  “He?” I frowned. “The ex.”

  She lowered her chin to her chest. “He was right to leave because what I want, what I need, isn’t normal.”

  So there it was, the truth behind why she seemed so adamantly against what was so blatant and obvious. I gently brought her chin up. “They really did a number on you, didn’t they?”

  Her brow furrowed. “They?”

  “Jason.” I gargled the prick’s name and spit it out. Although I shied from that level of commitment myself, I had little respect for someone that said those three words and broke my Melissa so compl
etely. But he wasn’t the only one. “And your father.”

  Her mouth hung open. “My dad? No, he—”

  “Hurt you just as deeply. You felt like you couldn’t be yourself around the two men who meant the most to you.” I knew I should let that thought sink in, but she was so tortured that I couldn’t resist. I pressed my lips against hers. I made a promise that I hadn’t made in a long time. A promise that was deeper than sex, deeper the bonds of a Master and a submissive. A promise of the heart.

  My forehead against hers, hands cupping both sides of her face, I looked deep into her eyes. “You’re safe with me, Melissa. You don’t have to hide or pretend or worry that I’ll run. I’m right here.”

  Her eyes fluttered closes, her lips sparing nothing as she let me hold her. My words rippled over her, the fight conceded, her body arching into mine. When she opened her eyes, waves of relief and excitement tumbled and crashed. She skimmed my jaw with her lips, the light touch waking up something inside me. Something I thought I’d never find again.

  Her lips were a soft tease on my earlobe. “I’m submissive.”

  I reclaimed her lips, arms snaring her as I pulled her close. Everything else didn’t matter. I’d taken many submissives to bed, but none of them moved me like Melissa. None of them mattered when measured against her.

  I knew our first time after she accepted her nature should be more structured, a gradual introduction into Domination and submission, finding out her turn ons and turn offs; her limits, buttons to press and expand her horizons. Control and rational thought were no match for the caged lust had been roaring from the minute I met her. She said the two words to set me free.

  She tasted like salt and need and even though we had a perfectly good bed just inside, we clawed at each other, tearing off shirts and shorts and underwear until we were skin to skin. I clutched her ass with both hands, growling with pleasure when I dipped my finger inside her and felt how wet she was for me. I watched her eyes roll back in her head as I pumped in and out of her.

  “L-L-Logan...” She said breathlessly, turning a two syllable name into four. “Take me. Take right here. Please.”