Sold at the Ski Resort

by Juliana Conners

  I wanted to kiss her lips. I wanted to show her how deeply my passion for her ran, but that would be a mistake. As far as she was concerned, I was the man she’d interviewed and nothing more. I wasn’t the man who’d commanded her to undress or the man who spanked and flogged her ass.

  Besides, kissing was too intimate and not something I ever did. At least, not anymore.

  Paige jumped back, and as she did, our lips brushed against each other’s. My cock instantly hardened, and I was sorely tempted to deepen the kiss, but I didn’t.

  Treating her like I didn’t have intimate knowledge of her body wouldn’t be easy.

  “Good day at the office, honey?” I asked, teasing her.

  She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Alec ripped me a new one. He isn’t happy with the first draft. He said I should have stuck to the questions he’d prepared for me. If he’d wanted a fluff piece, he would have asked for one. He doesn’t think I was hard enough on you.”

  “I guess you’ll have to come back to the apartment to interview me again. Next time you can be as hard as you want.”

  She raised an eyebrow and gave me a gentle push. “I told you yesterday, Mr. Palmer. Flirting won’t work on me.”

  “Fine,” I said and laughed. “No more flirting.”

  “So, where are we going on this snowy night?”

  “Fulfilling a childhood dream.”

  “Okay,” she said, drawing out the syllables.

  In comfortable silence, we wandered past cafes and bars and throngs of sightseers. She threaded her arm through mine, and we occasionally broke the silence to chit chat about life, hopes, and dreams.

  “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” I asked, genuinely curious. “You’re a beautiful and intelligent woman. And, no, I’m not flirting, I’m telling the truth.”

  “I’m thinking you don’t know how to open your mouth without flirting. I don’t have time for a boyfriend. And anyway, I’m at this weird turning point where I’m figuring some things out.”

  “Care to elaborate?” I asked as we turned the corner onto 6th Avenue.

  She shrugged and sighed. “Just things. I discovered something I didn’t know I wanted and now I have to decide if I’m going to follow through.”

  “I’m intrigued.” She wanted the lifestyle, but I could tell that accepting that she wanted it was tearing her in two.

  “Nothing intriguing, really. I have a few things to think about, is all. It’s a big step. One I’m not sure I’m ready to take.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “Fear,” she said noncommittally. She paused for a few beats before continuing. “Making a mistake. Humiliation. Self-loathing.”

  “Any positives?”

  She giggled, and a blush spread across her cheeks. “A few.”

  “Like what?” I kept my tone playful, but I was pushing her to admit what she wanted.

  “There are a lot of positives, but I don’t want to go into those. It’s like, I have this image in my head of me being a strong, independent woman and if I go after this thing, that image will shatter. Maybe I’ve been fooling myself all these years, and I’m not strong or independent.”

  “Do you desire this thing?”

  “More than I ever thought I would, but it’s complicated.” She gave a theatrical groan and shook her head. “I can’t even think about it anymore. My head hurts weighing up the pros and cons.”

  As much as I didn’t want to, I let the subject drop. Telling her the truth would make her decision easier, and the sooner I told her, the better for both of us.

  We continued walking in silence, and when we reached 59th and 6th, I said, “We’re here.”

  “Are we going to Central Park?” Her eyes lit up. “I love this place in the snow.”

  “Remember when I said I was fulfilling a childhood dream.”

  I took her hand in mine, and we crossed the road. She didn’t withdraw her hand.

  “Whose childhood dream?”

  “Wait and see.”

  After a few minutes, we stopped outside an illuminated but empty Wollman Rink. Paige looked at me, then the rink, and back to me again.

  “Wish fulfilled,” I said gesturing toward the ice.

  “You did this for me? You don’t even know me.”

  “Oh, but I do know you, Paige.” Little Mouse sat on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. “I wanted to make one of your dreams come true.”

  She squealed, threw her arms around my neck, and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

  “Thank you. I can’t believe this.”

  “And look,” I told her, walking over to a skate rental booth I had the key to. “This is so you can actually skate.”

  “Wow,” she said, sounding impressed as she chose skates in her size. “You really planned ahead.”

  I sure had. And it helped that having money could make anything happen.

  She put on her skates, and when she didn’t see me do the same, she asked. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

  “This is your dream. I’ll watch from the sidelines.”

  “Come on.” She pulled my hands, and said, “It’ll be more fun with the two of us.”

  “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.
<
br />   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.