Come Fly With Me (The Club #21)

by Isobelle Cate

  “Veronica, please. Open the door.”

  Tears bounced on her cheeks before soaking her t-shirt. Nicholas voice was gentle, yet commanding. She flinched, her body remembering the pain and pleasure of being used by a man.

  Another knock.

  “I only want to talk. If you don't want to, tell me and I'll go away.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nick waited. No answer. His phone rang.

  “Travers.”

  “Did you decide to go back to the hotel?” Adam's voice was heavy on the exhale giving Nicholas an idea of what he had just finished doing.

  “No, I'm still at Gio's.” He looked around wondering where he could sit. He leaned back and raised one leg against the wall instead.

  “Blood hell, you've been there for four hours? What for?”

  “Veronica.”

  “You're crazy, mate.” Adam muttered. Nick imagined his friend shaking his head. “What if she isn't the person you're looking for? You do know that what you're doing is stalking.”

  “I'm not stalking her.” Nick scowled as though Adam could see him.

  “Then leave her be.” Adam was firm. “If she really is Duffy's wife, do you think she'd tell you just like that? That is, if she'll even tell you at all.”

  He pursed his lips. Adam was right but Nick just refused to listen to the voice of reason. He wanted to appease his need to understand what caused Sherri to disappear. Why the most beautiful woman he had set his eyes on decided to leave her husband.

  “So are you still coming?” Adam broke into his reverie. In the background Nick heard the click of the door closing and muted conversation and music taking its place.

  “I'm on my way back to the hotel. Maybe some other time.”

  “Okay. We'll pass by the practice later. Unless you want to lie in and immerse yourself in Karim.

  “Giving me a way out?” Nick couldn't stop his grin.

  “No, Travers. I'm giving you a chance to sort whatever the hell's bugging you about Veronica so you can get it out of your system.”

  “It might take more than a day.” Nick warned.

  “All the better.” Adam was smug. “That means you'll have to stay longer.”

  Nick snorted a laugh. Pocketing his phone, he pushed away from the wall when the door opened a few inches.

  “Nicholas?”

  He turned slowly at the voice that was tentative. Resigned. In the dim light of the passageway and the growing silence of the night, he beheld the woman he wanted from the moment he had laid eyes on her. Seeing Veronica open the door, eyes downcast, and wet trails lining her cheeks wasn't the result of coming down from subspace. Alarm bells began clanging in his gut. He stepped forward then froze when she flinched. His lips flattened.

  “It's you, isn't it, Sherri?” he asked softly, unable to stop the words that had a mind of its own.

  Veronica didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a while. The silence of the night closing in on them. Then reluctantly, she nodded. Haunting dark pools of green looked up at him, so much like the gazes of his patients who had given up hope of ever being cured of their disease.

  “Would you like to come in?” she leaned against the door jamb, hugging herself.

  “Would you want me to?”

  “It depends. Now that you know I'm here will you let Christopher know?”

  Irritation was like a wriggler slowly working inside his belly. He beat it down with a huge breath.

  “I didn't come to tell on you, Sherri.”

  “Veronica...please call me Veronica.”

  “Veronica,” Nick corrected himself. “I didn't even know you were here. I thought you were dead. I came here on Adam Hunter’s invitation to see if I’d be up to joining his medical practice.”

  “So you're staying here?”

  He sure as hell was staying now that he had found Sherri once more. He wasn't going to let her out of his sight again.

  “Maybe. It depends,” he said instead.

  Veronica entered her apartment leaving him to follow. Nick looked up at the stars blanketing the Texas night sky, hands on his waist.

  Isn't this what you wanted? To be with the woman you wish you could collar as your own?

  He shook his head battling with his conscience. Not this way. The woman he saw at the Registry was hiding within the uncertain woman in front of him, and damn if he couldn’t coax her out once more.

  He entered the softly lit one room affair, taking in the pastel coloured quilt on the sofa bed, the rucksack on the wooden floor, the shabby chic furniture of mismatched chairs, paint flaked coffee table and the Tiffany inspired lamp standing in the corner by the narrow wardrobe. The wardrobe was open with clothes hanging precariously over the shelves. Her kitchenette was bare save for an electric kettle, microwave, and a hob.

  “You planned on leaving.” He stated.

  Veronica's mouth curved to one side. “You think?”

  He wouldn't have tolerated that sarcastic remark from a sub. But Veronica wasn't his sub, was she?

  “Why? Because I'm here?”

  Veronica continued to fold the clothes neatly before putting them neatly back into the closet. Nick noticed a Winnie the Pooh pillow which Veronica gently placed close to the rucksack. Then she walked to the kitchenette switching on the recessed fluorescent light underneath the overhead cupboard.

  “Coffee? Sorry, I don't have any alcohol here, but I can get you some from downstairs.”

  “Veronica,” he said, speaking to her as though she were a child.

  She whirled at him, the fire he thought gone, returning.

  “You are my husband's friend, Nicholas. Any woman in her right mind running away from her husband wouldn't be dumb enough to stay when she can be in danger. So what'll it be coffee, tea, water or the door?”

  For once in his life, Nick was at a loss for words at the verbal onslaught he received. Slowly, his mouth curled.

  “And stop being so amused.”

  “If you were my sub, you'd get a spanking for that sassy attitude.”

  Fear leaped into her eyes. Before Nick could take back what he'd said, desire replaced it. That pleased him.

  “I'll have coffee, please. Black and strong.”

  As though she'd been awakened from a stupor, Veronica turned away from him to boil water in the kettle.

  “Take a seat,” she mumbled.

  He sat down on one of the chairs. Leaning back, he watched her. He could now look at her at his pleasure without having to worry about her husband becoming suspicious about what Nick fought so hard to hide.

  Veronica reached up to get mugs from the cupboard, giving Nick a view of her pert ass and the narrowness of her wait. A little bit of flesh peeked from below the hem of her t-shirt and he wondered how her flesh would feel against his hands. Would it mark beautifully when she was tied in intricate knots to show the art that could ease a sub into a relaxed state? Would her skin taste as sweet as he imagined when he ran his tongue over it? He made a small noise at the back of his throat when he exhaled. Veronica had removed the elastic band that held up her messy bun, allowing her luxurious hair to tumble around her shoulders. Nick balled his hands, fighting the urge to stand behind her, to feel her hair's softness in his hands, around his wrist while he gently urged her to arch her back so that he could feast on her breasts - taking her tits into his mouth, teasing them to hardened, sensitive peaks. Or command her to suck his cock while he watched her look up at him, taking him all the way until he felt the back of her throat.

  The pop of the kettle brought him back to the present but not before he adjusted himself, nearly coming in his jeans.

  Veronica placed the steaming mug of coffee in front of him before taking the opposite seat.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “You're welcome.” There it was again. Eyes downcast without him having to ask.

  “Whenever you're ready,” he said before taking a sip from his mug. He nearly jerked the mug back when he scalded the tip o
f his lip.

  “What do you want to know?” She placed her hands on her lap. A sign of obedience.

  Of submission.

  Fuck.

  “Veronica, look at me.”

  She did as she was told, but her eyes were blank.

  Nick clenched his jaw shifting in his seat. He wasn't liking this at all. “Can you tell me why you're acting this way?”

  “Acting like what?”

  “Like a sub.”

  She smiled but it was a sad one.

  “You're a Dom, Nicholas. Christopher told me.”

  Disappointment fell like an anvil on his chest. “And you find that distasteful?”

  She shook her head. “My husband introduced me to a lifestyle I found intriguing and I wanted to try it.”

  “Did you enjoy it?” He took a more careful sip from his mug. Good, it didn't scald any longer.

  A smile ghosted once more on her mouth and Nick couldn't stop thinking of how much he wanted to taste her lips.

  “Yes and no.”

  “No?” His brow arched. “Don't you like pleasure? Is that why you left him?”

  “It's complicated.” She squirmed in her seat.

  Nick set aside his mug, crossing his arms on the table. “What's so complicated about seeking pleasure by stretching your limits?”

  “The pain,” she said looking away.

  His brow puckered. “But the pain is just a part of it. Pain isn't the end all of the lifestyle unless that is what you want. Everything is consensual.”

  Veronica looked down once more.

  Realisation dawned and rage simmered before it slowly filled him nearly making him lose his shit. He inhaled harshly.

  “It wasn't always consensual, was it?”

  “What I'm doing now, not looking down in front of a Dom,” she began. “That would have brought out punishment for me.”

  “Veron --”

  “Christopher said that any of his friends who were Doms had to be given the respect owed to them.”

  “Only during play and most definitely not if they don't deserve it,” he said tightly, finding it hard to rein in his fury. “Did he ask you about your pleasure? About what would please you?”

  Veronica sighed. “No, he didn't. But I had to agree.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of Danny.”

  “Who's Danny?” Nick asked in confusion.

  “My brother,” she said softly. “Christopher would only treat my brother if I agreed to be his sub.”

  “Shit!” Nick stood, closing his eyes in anger at the way Veronica jerked in her seat. He paced the apartment, unable to remain seated when all he wanted to do was punch his dead friend. Veronica continued to sip her coffee, watching him. Waiting. He took a while to let his anger bleed out of him.

  “Doms who do not have their subs interest and pleasure as their foremost priority are not real Doms, Veronica. Believe it or not, subs have all the power. It's role playing. It's the sub that sets the limits. Both Dom and sub discuss the play first and agree to what is permissible before anything happens.”

  Veronica's smile was short. “I didn't know that and that wasn't what I had with Christopher. Besides, after the pain came the pleasure. So in that respect, I guess it was okay.”

  Nick ran his hand over his short cropped hair. Christopher had abused his wife, convincing her that this was the lifestyle. Veronica's understanding was so warped that it would be difficult for him to introduce her to pleasure as his sub. Fuck! Would she even want to be a sub again?

  He took a gamble and hoped that when he rolled the dice, he hit the jackpot. Not start a Russian Roulette.

  “Veronica, we are not role playing and I'm not your Dom. Do you understand?”

  Her forehead puckered.

  “It's just me, Nick.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  It took a while for Veronica to realise what Nick was saying. She didn't have to keep her eyes down and take the obedient pose? Since when did that happen? Before Christopher arrived home, she had to make sure that she sat kneeling, her back straight, and her hands on top of her thighs. It didn't matter what clothes she wore. Christopher requested that of her, in exchange for his help. Now Nick was changing the rules. Her mind felt as though it was being stretched like an elastic band and she was just waiting when it would let fly and jar her back to reality.

  Didn't Doms expect submission? Obedience, even outside of the bedroom?

  Now that she didn't have to keep her eyes lowered, she watched Nick watching her. His voice, whether it was his Dom voice or not, was a tone that sent pleasant shivers down her body, and surprisingly to her core. Even from afar, she felt it on her skin, a whisper that caused tiny goosebumps against her nape. Christopher's voice had been different. It was a tone that demanded to be followed. In the beginning, it brought her pleasure, but as the year wore on, it lost its ability to prepare her for Christopher's lust.

  Veronica was at a loss to explain why she felt this way towards Nick. She had found him attractive when they first met, but never really imagined herself with him. Fear and anxiety made her want to leave Karim for good. Confusion and the need to hear Nick speak made her postpone her flight. If she was ever leaving at all.

  Damn, this is so weird.

  “Can you do that?” Nick was speaking again and her body reacted once more, the trickle of awareness down her spine made her straighten her posture. “Can you see me just as a man and not a Dom?”

  She searched his dark eyes, trying to read what was on his mind. Apart from the crinkling at the sides caused by his smile, Veronica could only guess. But when she licked her bottom lip and Nick's eyes flared, a seed of pleasure bloomed inside her.

  “I will try.”

  “Good girl.” Nick smiled and she felt like soaring, a blush warming her cheeks.

  Nick crossed his arms over his chest. Veronica was drawn to the strength under his skin, his short sleeved shirt allowing her to appreciate his body. Her cheeks further warmed when her imagination ran wild, showing her what it would be like for her and Nick to be skin on skin.

  “Why did you leave, Sherri?”

  “Please, not that name anymore,” she begged, the shiver of delight, slowly waning.

  Nick’s mouth tightened but he nodded. “I apologise. Why?”

  “Because of Danny,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Nick’s forehead puckered. “I still don't understand.”

  “May I stand?”

  “I'm just Nicholas...Nick remember, Sher—Veronica?” His voice was firm but gentle. “This is your home. You don't need my permission to do what you want.”

  She stood, a grateful smile fluttering over her lips. She took a huge breath before speaking.

  “Danny and I are not siblings by blood,” she said on an exhale. “We were in the same orphanage before we entered foster care.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  She smiled. “I’m not. I found Danny.”

  “Still, it must have been hard.” Nick cocked his head to one side.

  “Yes it was. When we got out of foster care, we were lucky to find jobs that helped us find a place together. We worked during the day and studied at night. Danny was the athlete and I was the one who had my nose in books. An investment bank took a chance on me and gave me an apprenticeship. I worked my way up and was in the cusp of being promoted when Danny got sick.” She took a leaf from the kitchen roll and began to wipe the counter. “He was already winning competitions and was about to try out for the national team when he lost feeling in his limbs. All of the consultants we went to told us that Danny had a motor neuron disease and he'd just keep on deteriorating. I couldn't accept that. Didn't want to believe it. Danny was all I had in the world.”

  A tear she hadn't realised fell to the counter. She sniffed, automatically wiping the offending liquid.

  “The last consultant I spoke to told me of Christopher Duffy's experimental work on finding a cure for what Danny had. I request
ed Danny's GP to refer us to Christopher. In two weeks we saw him. Surprised really, because it was so quick.” She faced Nick. “Christopher not only prescribed a course of medicines, but consistent rehab to prevent Danny’s muscles from deteriorating further.”

  Nick listened, the lines on his forehead further creasing. He suddenly looked up, his gaze holding her captive that she sucked in her breath slowly. There it was again, the warmth in her chest spreading as she became the cynosure of his attention. She swallowed but her mouth was dry, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird's wings in mid-flight. She had expected to feel shame for unburdening to a stranger let alone her husband's friend. Instead, she felt relief.

  “Did the treatment work?” Nick leaned forward reaching for his mug. “Christopher did say he had developed a treatment for Lou Gehrig's disease but refused to share his findings with the rest of us. How many patients did he have?”

  “You didn't know?” A disbelieving frown marred her forehead.

  He shook his head.

  “He was your good friend.” She scoffed, turning back to wipe the entire counter.

  “Apparently not. We just shared similar things.”

  “Like the lifestyle?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper on the last word.

  “Yes.”

  Veronica vigorously passed the already tattered kitchen towel back and forth over the Formica counter even though there was no dirt left.

  Nick shook his head, his hand running through his close cropped hair, and lightly pressing his fingers over his eyes. He exhaled. “There were so many things that could go wrong. The clinical director told him that. I told him that. A patient could die.”

  “But Danny didn't. At least not right away. Christopher's treatment did help Danny and for a time I saw hope shining in my brother’s eyes once more. Christopher had given him hope. so whatever Christopher did to me was worth getting my brother back.” She threw the ragged towel into the trash can in the corner before hugging herself. As if that could fend off the cold she felt inside every time she remembered what she had to sacrifice. Who would have thought that the last person she expected to unburden was a Dom, the very embodiment of all that she feared. And all that she craved. She always believed that there was something more to the pain, that she'd experience more pleasure. Despite what Christopher had done to her and what he drummed into her head about abject servitude to Dominants, her gut instinct told her that there was something different out there. Even though what her husband did to her made her shun sex almost completely, at times she still longed to experience the better side of sex. And right now, she was thinking that maybe Nick…