desire for Touch: a M/F, D/s love story (RiverHart Book 1)

by Adira August

  He was leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, chewing and watching her with ... admiration? Appreciation, anyway, she thought.

  She approached him. He sat up and she pushed his knees apart, standing between them, looking down at him. How can he possibly be this fucking beautiful? She asked herself.

  She put her hands behind her back, leaned over and kissed the top of his head. His hair was soft, thick. The waves tamed by some product she couldn’t feel but the scent was divine. She straightened and took a minute to admire him, still in his vest, hugging his tight, solid frame. The sleeves of his shirt still rolled up, his forearms banded with muscle, veins snaking along and disappearing under the cuffs.

  “I asked you to. Thank you for helping me understand,” she said. He searched her face, wary and wondering. She smiled at him, a little sadly.

  “You aren’t going to kiss me, are you?” He shook his head. She took a step back. “But you like me, too.” His whole face softened. His eyes warmed and she felt his energy wrap around her.

  Avia moved to the door and grasped the doorknob. He sprang to his feet, looking uncertain.

  “I think I betrayed something today,” Avia told him. “Something new and fragile. You or us or … I don’t know. But I know I brought ugliness inside and stood it right between us and you - you gave me what I needed, anyway. And it cost you. And if my trust can repay that debt in any small way, know you have it.”

  “Avia - “ He began, moved. But she held up a hand to stop him.

  “Please. I’m still a little overwhelmed and I have some stuff to deal with.” She pulled the door open. “I’m really gonna hate the discipline part, but, if you think it’s the only way … I guess I’ll survive because you’re very good at it.” She considered. “I think I should get credit for three strokes, though.”

  He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at her. Her billionaire Dom was back. “Not a chance,” he said.

  She nodded as if this was exactly what she expected. “See you Sunday.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

  She winked at him. And she was gone. And that was the moment Ben Hart realized he could fall in love with her.

  REASSIGNMENT

  “You got everything settled with Irene Mackin?” Janet asked, when Avia entered her office carrying a small brown paper bag.

  Avia placed the bag on the desk in front of Janet with the “Chocolate Heaven” logo facing her. “Peace offering,” Avia said.

  Avia plopped down on the sofa. She yawned. “I need coffee. And lunch. Except it’s almost dinner time.”

  Janet peeked into the bag and drew out a nut cluster. She tossed the bag to Avia. “So. Mackin?”

  “Yeah, that’s done. Cell and recorder returned, pictures sent to her phone. Told her I was off the assignment.” Avia retrieved some white chocolate-covered pretzels from the bag.

  “She seem to care at all?” Janet asked.

  Avia sat up. “You know, she did, I think. Seemed a little disappointed. Didn’t say anything, though.” She took a bite of pretzel and tossed the bag back onto the desk. “You still pissed at me?”

  “Two things - three - save you from my continuing wrath,” Janet answered. “First, Mackin’s attorney released a statement about thirty minutes ago saying there is no litigation pending against Ben Hart by his office. He had no comment on the letter.”

  “Wow, that was fast,” Ava said.

  “It was.” Janet agreed. “Love to have been a fly on the wall during that meeting. So I don’t care about letting go of Mackin or any part of that story. But -”

  Janet gave Avia a very severe look. “- neither chocolate nor friendship will satisfy here - Spend tomorrow writing up the assignment I gave you. I know it won’t be in-depth, but I called in some favors to get you the shrink appointment you wanted with an expert on sexual behavior up in Boulder on Saturday. Now I have to a walk all that back because you’re blowing it off.”

  “I won’t blow it off.” Avia said. “I don’t want to leave you in the lurch, J.J. I’ll still take the meeting. If the piece gets a lot of response, I’ll do a follow-up and it’ll will be great background. Holiday would be good, don’t you think?”

  Janet finally smiled. “Thank you. I hoped you’d offer. So, spend Friday writing me up a nice feature, with sidebar, for the week-end national edition. None of that dark stuff you seem to gravitate toward. This is sexy romance, not vampirism. Use your Ben Hart interview for some color - you know - the compare a real billionaire to fantasy ones angle.”

  “Got it,” Avia said. “What’s the third thing saving me from J.J. hell?”

  Janet searched around on her desktop and came up with a notepad she ripped the top sheet from, which she handed to Avia. “Starting Monday you’ll be at the courthouse in Denver reporting on the Madigan trial. Info on courtroom and judge’s name, clerk’s name, all there.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m not a reporter. That’s news division’s job,” Avia said.

  “It’s your job, now,” Janet said. “Orders from above, as they say. You’re the national reporter on this story. And you are a hell of a reporter, Avia. At least, you did a great investigative reporting job on City Council, which is how Madigan got arrested in the first place. It’s your baby and your only assignment until it’s over.”

  “How long will that be?” Avia asked, dismayed. In the back of her mind, she wondered how much this would curtail her free time. A lot of which she’d been hoping to spend as Companion to Benedict Hart.

  “They’ve blocked out four weeks, the first will be jury selection,” She looked sympathetic when Avia rolled her eyes. “I know. But you’re the one who can make it not boring. They want lots of featurettes, sidebar interest along with straight reporting.”

  “I’ll barely have time to drive home and sleep and drive back downtown,” Avia said. “For a month!”

  Janet took another nut cluster from the bag and popped it into her mouth. And smiled. “Maybe you should look into one of those higher-paying jobs just waiting to snatch you up.”

  “Vindictive is not a good look on you, J.J.” Avia said.

  “But humility looks so good on you,” J.J. smiled and reached back into the bag of chocolates.

  “If it ain’t done now, Akiko and Akira won’t make it through the winter.” Curtis sun-browned face thrust aggressively up into Ben’s. Or “at” Ben’s, as Curtis was only five feet six inches tall. A wiry man of fifty to sixty.

  Maybe, Ben Hart thought. The tough little bastard might be seventy-five.

  “Explain why this winter is different,” he said patiently. “They’re old, right? They’ve lived through all the winters so far.”

  Curtis closed his eyes, seemed to be silently counting to ten. “Winters doesn’t change. They varies. Fish change. They grow. Akiko and Akira’s sixteen. Pond’s too shallow for ‘em now, they’s too big to get low down, away from the ice atop. It’s gotta be deeper. We gotta put ‘em inside and drain the pond and -”

  “Yes, so you said before.” Ben interrupted him, which was no mean feat. “But you said we had to deepen the moat as well. Don’t the fish usually spend the winter out here in the pond?”

  Curtis was outraged. He pointed into the water. “They’s trapped in here, can’t swim in the moat no more, it’s too shallow.” Perhaps it was his hand held out over the water that brought one of the huge koi to the surface. The fish tilted its head as if staring up at Curtis through one eye. He squatted at the edge of the water and the gold and white mottled fish swam to him to be ... petted.

  Ben’s eyes grew big and he pressed both lips together to keep his are you fucking kidding me reaction to himself.

  “Mr. Hart!”

  Relieved to have an excuse to turn away before he burst out laughing and offended the old man, Ben walked toward Hugo, who was trotting across the lawn and holding out his tablet. He was also grinning.

  “It worked,” he said as he ha
nded the tablet to Ben, who scanned the open web page of a regional gossip outlet. “Local Billionaire Safe from Sex Suit” headlined a statement from Leonard Randall’s office. Ben nodded with grim satisfaction and handed the tablet back.

  “A bully’s always a coward,” he said. Hugo regarded his boss more soberly when the expected show of happy triumph didn’t materialize, wondering when the ineffectual Randall had become a “bully.” But he said nothing. Saying things at these times wasn’t his job. Listening was.

  Ben turned back to the old man petting the fish. “Curtis.” Curtis raised his head, his face set in deep lines that had almost disappeared as he chatted quietly with the koi. “Give them whatever they need. Coordinate with Mr. Ramos.” Curtis gave a brief nod.

  Ben walked Hugo toward the Castle. “Try to keep this project from disrupting everyone’s routine too much and don’t let him go overboard with the budget.”

  Hugo looked surprised. “Curtis? I think he bought those pants during the Johnson administration. He’s not exactly profligate.”

  “Overboard for the fish,” Ben explained.

  Comprehension dawned for Hugo. “Ah. Yes. I’ll do what I can.”

  They entered the Castle and Ben remembered something. “Hey, is Curtis his first name or his last?”

  Hugo went blank. “No idea. I’ll check with payroll.”

  Ben stopped at the elevator. “Nevermind. Life ought to have some mystery. Is everything I ordered at the door to the Companions’ room?”

  “Yup. I included restock for the wet bar and the lavs. Just leave it out if you don’t need it and I’ll send it back down.”

  “No, that’s good, thanks. Go ahead and take off. I won’t need you until one o’clock if you want to sleep in.” He went over his plans in his head. “Come to think of it, unless you have business, I won’t need you at all until Sunday morning. Just take the day.”

  Hugo grinned. “I am yours to command, Sire,” and gave a little bow as the elevator doors closed on Ben Hart.

  Once inside the Keep, Ben changed into shorts and a t-shirt and carried everything Hugo’d left out in the hall into the Companions’ room. He let Berthe know she could send up dinner any time.

  Dirty dishes, soiled linens and clothing went down in the dumbwaiters, and meals and clean laundry came up. He did all his other housekeeping himself. It was his Thursday night ritual. Ben Hart grew up with chores and responsibilities. He kept his room neat, fed stock, shoveled waste, delivered young and fertilized prize cows with his arm inside them up to his shoulder.

  Some of the chores were gender specific, but that didn’t stop his mother from teaching him basic cooking skills and how to do laundry. “You might not find a woman for a while,” she told him. “A man should know how to do for himself. And for his wife if she’s needing him to.”

  But being a billionaire was nothing if not time-consuming. Hugo took most of that burden by hiring great people and parcelling out duties. He rode herd over the gentry of the Hart empire.

  But Ben still had myriad decisions to make and things to learn and other things to keep abreast of, so cooking and laundry were done by staff. The rest, he kept the rest to himself. He felt as if the work fed his soul. And many of his best ideas came to him changing bed linens or scrubbing bathroom floors.

  As he restocked and checked expiration dates on lotions and ointments in the Companion’s room, he went over his latest learning challenge in his mind. He didn’t know a thing about making a movie. Should he stream online, sell DVDs, did they have to be Blu-Ray or high definition? And what would a Hartline version of woman-friendly porn look like? What did any porn look like? How could he best serve his clientele?

  I should ask Avia, he thought. And stopped mid-reach with a set of labia spreaders headed for a bin. He’d never discussed his business with a Companion. Ever. In any way.

  But you already did.

  But she wasn’t his companion, yet. He’d only spoken to her about the content of Red Deer’s books because she was interviewing him. But it had been fun instead of fraught. And he’d gained some valuable insight.

  How will you prove yourself to her?

  Prove myself as what?

  … the human Alpha female will not only submit, she’ll be the one to submit most eagerly if she finds an Alpha male who also proves himself worthy…

  “Worthy.” He grabbed his cell and found a definition. “... deserving effort, attention, or respect …”

  He was startled at how closely it paralleled exactly what he needed to bring Avia to ecstasy. He needed her to make an heroic effort to change the way she responded to sexual stimuli. When she wanted to tense, he needed her relaxed. When she wanted to control, he needed her to submit..

  He needed her attention, her focus on him and what he was saying, doing, teaching her. He needed her respect most of all, so she would trust him. So she felt safe to submit. Not by his demand, but by her own desire.

  Ben checked the Companion’s lav to make sure all was in place for Sunday. While he was polishing the big mirror over the sink and counter, he had a sudden flash of himself on the couch in front of the fire in his sitting room.

  Avia was there, at the other end. They both sipped wine and she shared her latest assignment and he asked questions and offered ideas for lines of inquiry. He talked about his latest project and she offered encouragement along with her slightly acerbic opinions. They were laughing and she was lovely in the firelight and then he was leaning over …

  “She liked it,” he said aloud to his reflection. She liked that he listened to her about the billionaire books and acted and that it mattered. She liked his text. She’d like it if he consulted with her about his video idea. It would have been an egregiously manipulative idea, if he hadn’t also known he’d like it, too.

  His phone pinged a text alert. Avia -

  THINGS HAVE CNHGD. SCHDL

  “SCHDL” was a link. When he followed the link he found a calendar with the next four weeks blocked out and only one day of the week-end free.

  What the fuck? He used two fingers to expand the image and moved around it. Across each week was written “Madigan trial.” She left him a note down the weekends: “No time during the week, long commute. Need one weekend day for laundry, etc. Your choice.”

  He went to his desk and took out the previous schedule she’d sent him that he’d printed out. He compared it to the image on his cell. Nothing changed until Monday. He texted her back.

  MINI SESS TMRW NITE. PICK U UP FRM WORK. DINNER. SWEEPING.

  He sent it and found a number in his contacts. “Gordon, Ben Hart. … I will, yes. … Four weeks, I think. … tomorrow night.” He clicked off and smiled. Being a billionaire had it’s advantages.

  He touched Hugo’s number.

  FRIDAY

  THE SUV

  TWO BKS SOUTH. SILVER SUV. NO PANTIES.

  Avia stared at the text. Is he going to spank me in the car? She felt her face heat and her thighs tighten in a rush of excitement mixed with trepidation. She couldn’t believe her response to the idea was so different from only two days ago. But she also couldn’t believe how much more she knew, now.

  And how much she trusted this man who was still essentially a stranger to her, to fulfill his promises.

  “I’m going to spank you at our first session ... I want you to know how much pleasure you can derive from it.”

  Avia smiled.

  “Just happy it’s Friday or do you have something special planned?” The greasy insinuation was spoken so close to her ear she could feel Spider’s breath. And, unfortunately, smell it. She flipped the phone upside-down, shoved her chair away and got to her feet.

  “Next time you do that, I might be startled and accidentally punch you in the balls,” she said conversationally.

  “If she gets to you before I do.” Carson was standing as close behind Spider as Spider had been behind Avia.

  Spider whirled around and sneered down at Carson, who was, admittedly, about
four inches shorter. “Going bi for your faghag, Carson?”

  “Stopping by the unemployment office on your way home, Stew?” Carson asked pleasantly and directed his gaze in an obvious way over Spider’s shoulder. Spider turned slowly.

  Janet Johnson stood directly behind him, next to Avia.

  “Mr. Dwyer, The Week has an absolute no tolerance policy against harassment in any form, and most especially in terms of gender, race or sexual preference or identification. Which I’ve explained to you on a previous occasion.” She said.

  “They threatened me!” He whined.

  Janet looked to Avia and Carson. “Excuse us,” she said pointedly.

  Avia grabbed her purse and Carson walked her to the elevator. She stopped him as he reached for the button. “You go ahead. I have to use the restroom, first.”

  “Okay. I wasn’t leaving yet, anyway, I have another hour or so.”

  “Sorry I got you involved in that.” Avia said with a glance back at Spider, looking pale while J.J. talked.

  He grinned. “You didn’t. J.J. did. She told me to watch out for an opportunity to dump the guy. His work isn’t bad enough to fire him for incompetence. She needed cause. I saw her coming and just payed out a little more rope.”

  He gave her a wave and headed back to his office, giving J.J. and Spider a wide berth.

  Avia entered the empty ladies’ room and inside a stall, deleted the text and put the cell into her purse. She removed her panties, folded them neatly, slipping them into an interior side pocket.

  Taking the opportunity to pee, she used scented flushable wipes from her purse. She didn’t shave or wax, but did keep her pubic hair neatly trimmed (for her own convenience) and wanted to be clean and fresh for whatever he might have in mind.

  She was purposely bare-legged today, a garter belt and stockings tucked away in her bag if she thought they’d be needed for the restaurant, but his NO PANTIES text made her think completely bare was best for the car ride. She carefully washed her hands and combed her hair.