“Don’t laugh when I fall and crack my skull open.”
I reached over the counter to choose my own skate size from those that lined the racks. It seemed impossible to say no to her.
“As long as you don’t laugh when I fall tits over ass.”
Neither of us were skaters, and we spent more time on our asses than we did upright, but I didn’t care if I looked like a fool because the sight and sound of her happiness was more than I could have hoped for.
“I’m going to have bruises on top of the bruises on my backside,” she said, pushing herself up from the ice after her hundredth fall.
“You have bruises on your butt? How’d that happen?” I laughed to myself, remembering exactly how that happened.
“I don’t have any bruises,” she said too quickly. “Bad choice of words.”
She skated away before I could ask anything more.
When we finished skating, we strolled through the park towards The Lovehouse— a restaurant in the middle of Central Park.
Paige nuzzled her cheek against my shoulder. “I can’t thank you enough. Do you want to know why it was one of my childhood dreams?”
I touched my nose to the top of her head and inhale the scent of her floral shampoo. “Why?”
“Before my dad died, we would come here every year. We used to joke about how one year he’d surprise me by renting out the rink for just us. I know it sounds silly, but I felt him with me tonight.”
A wave of emotion washed over me, and I was glad she couldn’t see my face. I was supposed to be a Dom, an alpha male in control of his emotions, but this girl with her open heart and mind was turning me into a marshmallow.
“Does, m’lady have any other unfulfilled childhood dreams she’d like to share?”
“Let’s see. A house from chocolate. A horse carriage ride around the city at dawn. A trip to Oz.”
“As in Australia?
“As in the Yellow Brick Road.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I wonder,” she began, tapping her finger against her lips, “Are you trying to impress me, Mr. Palmer, or get into my pants?”
I laughed and flashed her a smile. No matter how much she thought this was a ploy to get into her pants, and in a way it was, her happiness gave me a sense of satisfaction.
“What makes you think I’m trying to do either one?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Renting an ice rink, a romantic stroll through Central Park before bringing me to a restaurant with a year-long waiting list. Offering to make my other childhood dreams come true.”
“Are you impressed?”
“A little.”
“Am I getting inside your pants?”
“It’s complicated.”
“The thing?” I asked.
“The thing,” she agreed.
I had to admit I was glad she was thinking of me, even if she only knew “me” as the man in the mask. It showed the experience had meant as much to her as it had to me.
When we reached the outside of the restaurant, I heard a woman’s voice call my name. Not just any woman. Vivian.
I turned around and saw her dressed in her signature red.
“Who’s that?” Paige asked, her eyes moving rapidly between Vivian and me.
Every muscle in my body tensed. “Someone I used to be involved with.”
“Your very own stalker.” She smiled, but there was no humor behind it.
“Please excuse me,” I said and walked to where Vivian stood.
“What can I do for you, Vivian?”
She bowed her head and lowered her eyes. “I came to ask for forgiveness, Master. I’m sorry. So sorry. I wanted to teach you a lesson by not going to the party. I wanted to make you realize what you had with me.”
“What we had was for a contracted amount of time, and you violated that arrangement,” I told her. “We’re done.”
“Master, please. What we had was good. We could have so much more.”
“Go home. We’re over.” Frustration at her refusal to leave— and at the fact that she had even appeared in the first place— laced my voice.
“We’re not over.” She pushed past me and strode towards Paige.
“Leave now,” I warned.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” she spat. “You’re not my Master anymore, remember.”
Vivian put her hands on her hips and stood directly in front of Paige.
“So, you’re the one who bought my invitation. I asked Mike to get it back for me because I’d changed my mind, but he said he couldn’t because he’d sold it to an old friend’s daughter. I’ve enjoyed your money, but now I want Wyatt back.”
Paige stared me down, and her expression showed me she was unraveling the truth. “I… I don’t understand.”
I grabbed Vivian by the bicep and spun her around until she faced me. A ball of hot anger expanded inside of me, but I told myself to calm down. Now wasn’t the time for a confrontation with a spurned ex. That would come.
“Go home, Vivian. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Vivian looked over her shoulder and glared at Paige. “If I can’t have him, neither can you. I’ll make sure of it.”
Without another word, she shook her arm free and stormed off.
All I could manage was, “Paige, I can explain.”
The confusion on her face morphed into realization.
“It’s you. You’re him. The masked man.”
Now her face clouded over with a look that showed me she was not happy about this development. I just hoped I could make her understand.
Chapter 14 – Paige Matthews
Bile swished around my stomach. Great. I was going to throw up in the middle of Central Park outside a five-star restaurant.
“What sort of depraved, dirty game are you playing?” I demanded. “You knew… You’ve known.”
His face was expressionless, but something in his eyes told me he was ashamed.
“I had planned on telling you, Paige. Tonight, after dinner, I swear.”
Still dizzy from finding out who he really was, I steadied myself against a tree and looked up at the swirling snow. My mind raced from one disjointed thought to another, and the coppery taste of bitterness and disappointment soured my mouth.
“Sure you were. Right after you’d fucked me. Were you ever going to pull off your mask and reveal your true identity? Who’s the real you, Wyatt? The guy in the room or the guy in front of me?”
“I’m one and the same.”
I forced out a high-pitched laugh. “Billionaire by day. Dom by night. Exactly what the world needs, a BDSM superhero. What’s your superpower? Fingers faster than a speeding bullet? Ten orgasms a minute?”
“You came into the club and into my room,” he accused. “You were planning on writing a story about innocent people who get their kinks and satisfaction in a safe, sane, and consensual environment. You came to the party under false pretenses.”
“I was naked in front of you. You saw all of me. I’ve never…”
Rage reddened his face. “I didn’t force you to take your clothes off. I didn’t force you to get on the bed. I didn’t force you to have multiple orgasms. I didn’t force you to get down on your knees in front of me. And don’t pretend that after we’d finished dinner, you hadn’t planned on going back to the club for more instruction.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “For your information, I wasn’t.”
“Stop lying. You wanted to go back to the club for more. You’re a sub, Mouse. Admit it.”
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare call me that.”
Humiliation pushed me to say more and more, but before I said something I could never take back, I stormed away. I heard him come after me, but I didn’t stop walking until I was by the road. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me around to face him.
I shook him off and shoved my palms against his chest, but since he was made of solid muscle, he didn’t move.
“Don’t you
ever fucking touch me again. I’m not your slave, I’m not your sub, and you’re not my master,” I spat at him.
I flagged down a cab, and when it stopped, I gave Wyatt what I thought was a tight-lipped smile, but when I glimpsed my reflection in the passenger window, my smile resembled a rabid dog’s snarl. I slid into the cab and closed the door, being careful not the slam it.
It wasn’t the driver’s fault I’d gotten myself involved with a lying sack of shit. I was also careful not to look back at Wyatt when the cab pulled away from the curb because if I did, I was afraid I’d go back and fall to my knees.
***
Halfway to my apartment, my phone rang. It was him. I didn’t want to talk to him, or anyone else so I set my phone to silent.
I needed time to process everything that had happened. All along he’d known who I was. At his apartment when I’d interviewed him, he knew. Last night at the club when I’d sucked his cock, he knew. I couldn’t believe it.
How could he have put me through that? I ignored the small voice of reason attempting to make me see I was as much at fault as Wyatt was. But how could that be true? In fairness, the first night, he didn’t know, but last night, yesterday and today, he did. Fucking lying bastard piece of crap asshole.
If I’d known the man in the mask was Wyatt Palmer, the man whose company I adored, the man who made me realize what it meant to be a journalist, would I have gone back to the club last night? Or considered going back tonight? I wish I knew the answer to that. Not that it mattered because whatever we had, or potentially had, was gone.
Once I reached my apartment, I threw my bag onto the foyer floor, ripped off my hat and threw that onto the floor along with my mittens and coat. I wanted to throw more things. I wanted to break things. I wanted to scream and curse and argue. I paced up and down my apartment, wearing a path into the hardwoods, and when a knock rattled the front door, I didn’t have to guess who it was.
“Paige, open up. We have to talk.”
“Get the fuck away from my door before I call the police.”
“If you don’t let me in, I’m going to break the door down.”
I relented and opened up but only because on top of all the crap the universe was throwing my way, the last thing I needed was for my neighbors to lodge a noise complaint.
“How did you know where I live?” I asked.
“I know everything about you,” he answered.
I had known it was a stupid question as soon as I’d asked him. A man like him could find out anything for any price.
Damn him for being so rich. And damn him for looking so fucking hot.
“You have five minutes,” I said through gritted teeth.
He strode into my apartment, and I cursed myself for missing the signs. Everything about him, from his stance to his body language to the set of his shoulders was the same as the masked man’s. And, I couldn’t help but want him.
“Tell me the truth,” he demanded, his hands bunched into fists. “Were you going to go back to the club tonight for more instruction?”
I hesitated because after spending the evening with the masked man’s alter ego, I wasn’t sure what I’d planned to do. Wyatt didn’t need to know that all day my body had tingled at the thought of going back to the club. But during our date, I’d reconsidered everything.
“I wasn’t going back.”
He stepped forward until our bodies were a breath apart. “Don’t lie to me, Mouse.”
“My name is Paige.”
Electricity charged the air between us, and the power emanating from him hardened my nipples and soaked my panties. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.
“If I told you to, you would strip off your clothes and get on your knees right now,” he said, obviously feeling pretty confident that he was right.
Red hot anger raged inside of me. Anger at him for his conceit and deceit, but more than that, more than anything, anger at myself for being so naïve and gullible.
“You already have a girlfriend or a sub or a slave. Or whatever the fuck Vivian is.”
“Vivian is nothing to me. We had a contractual relationship and that was it. Not a real relationship. And anyway, it’s done. It’s over.”
“Who’s lying now, Wyatt?”
The urge to throw things took hold again, and I picked up a potted cactus from the hall table. “You’re an arrogant fuck and a liar and a sadist and a bastard.”
I flung the plant towards him, making sure not to throw it directly at him. My aim was pretty good; it narrowly missed his head and crashed against the door. “Next time I won’t miss.”
I grabbed an umbrella from the coat stand, but before I could lob it in his direction, he grabbed my wrists and pinned me against the wall, forcing me to drop my weapon.
“Enough,” he ordered. “You’re my sub, and you will do what I say.”
“I hate you.” My estrogen-drenched and treacherous body ached for him. I wished it didn’t want him so damn much.
“You might not like me right now, but you don’t hate me.” He pressed his lips to my cheek, and said. “I was wrong to lie, but I’m not lying when I say I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone. You’ve lit a fire inside of me and the only way I can quench it is to have you.”
“I don’t want you.” I struggled to get away, but his grip was too powerful. “Let me go.”
“If you want me to leave, I will, but once I walk out that door, you’ll never see me again. Is that what you want, Mouse?”
His hard cock pressed against my stomach and I groaned in frustration.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured against my cheek. “I’m going to do something I haven’t done in a long time. Something I’ve thought about doing since the second you walked into my room.”
He lowered his head and slanted his lips over mine. His kiss was deep and hard and consumed my soul. I was lost to him. I knew Wyatt Palmer was my master. Taking the kiss deeper, he slid his tongue between my lips.
He released his grip on my wrists and continued to slowly kiss me until my head spun. My skin heated, and I wanted everything he was willing to give me.
By the time he broke away, I was a trembling mass of need.
“Mine,” he said, and cupped my cheeks.
He sucked on my lower lip, drawing it into his mouth, and when he released me, that wicked smile of his tightened my stomach.
Breathless, I pressed my back against the wall and waited for whatever came next.
He stepped away and tore off his coat and shirt and kicked off his shoes, and when he wore nothing more than jeans, he pulled the belt from the loops.
“When you’re with me, what’s the first thing you’re supposed to do, Mouse?”
Desire and defiance warred within me, but I wanted him so much it physically hurt. Desire won.
“I get undressed.”
“I get undressed what?”
“Master.”
“That’s better.”
With shaking fingers, I removed my clothes and threw them on the floor, and when I was fully naked, I planted my hands on my hips as if daring him to order me to pick my clothes up.
He lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
Never had I felt as vulnerable or as strong as I did right now. I was the one in control. I held the power. And that realization turned me on more than anything.
“Your bedroom, sub. Tonight, I’m going to show you what having a Master really means.”
Chapter 15 – Paige Matthews
I led the way through my untidy apartment to my messy bedroom and waited for Wyatt to comment on my lack of domestic skills.
“The next time I’m here, Mouse, this place had better be spotless.” He lifted the comforter off my unmade bed and threw it onto the floor. “If I didn’t already have plans for you, I’d make you clean up.”
“If I wanted a job as a cleaner, I would get one, Master.”
“One.” He reached around my body and pinched my still sensitive ass. “I was easy
on you last night. Tonight, I won’t be.”
His warning sent a shiver of excitement through me.
“But I’ll let you off with a caution this one and only time.” He smacked his hand off one ass cheek and then the other, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to hurt.
I bowed my head, and said, “Thank you, Master.”
He dropped his belt on the sheet-covered mattress. My pulse raced, and I focused on trying to regulate my breathing.
“What do you plan to do with me, Master?”
“Patience.” He slowly swept his warm gaze over my body, his scrutiny heating my skin. “I’m glad I finally get to see all of you in full light. You’re a stunning and sexy woman, Paige.”
His words were sincere and warm and made me believe he honestly considered me both stunning and sexy.
“I’m a lucky man.” He stroked the tips of his fingertips up and down the center of my body between my breasts. “I’ll never tire of touching you.”
My nipples tightened and jutted out, aching with need.
As if reading my mind, he brushed the backs of his knuckles over my straining nipples. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed him to bite, suck, and lick.
He removed his hand from my body, and I gave an irritated groan. “Soon. Lay on your back in the center of the bed.”
When I was in the position he’d requested, he took my hands one at a time and placed them above my head. He straddled my waist and picked up his belt. My muscles tensed and I sucked in a shaky breath.
“You know I’ll never hurt you, Mouse.”
I nodded, and whispered, “I know, Master.”
Reaching up, he wrapped the leather belt around each wrist before securing the ends to the headboard. I tested the give. There was none. I was at his mercy. I tugged at my restraints and realization seeped into me. He could do anything he wanted, he could—
“Mouse,” he barked, yanking me from my panic. “Trust. Me.”
The quiet assurance in his voice helped ease my fear. Once he seemed satisfied I wouldn’t hyperventilate, he knelt on the mattress beside me.
He reached between my thighs and stroked his fingers along my soaked folds, making my clit swell to bursting point. “This is mine.”
Out of Line: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance Page 84