by Deanna Lee
He stood, walked to the red chair, and looked toward me. “Then come here.”
Walking toward him, I gave myself a mental shake. It was imperative that I not let him rattle me. “I’ll just go get into the robe.”
“No.” He looked me over. “Here. Take off your clothes right here.”
Glaring at him, I stopped. “What game are you playing with me, Mr. Montgomery?”
“I told you to call me Shame.”
“As if I’d take orders from you.” I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my breasts. The need to control the situation was overwhelming, and I knew that Jeff’s call was partly responsible. “I’m not a stripper.”
He laughed then and took a step back from the chair. “No, you’re not.” He sat down on the floor a few feet from the chair, sketch pad in hand.
“I would prefer to undress behind the screen.”
“Do you always get your way?”
Pursing my lips, I stood and glared at him for a moment. “Does that make you think I’m spoiled?”
“No, you are by far the least spoiled woman I know.” He tilted his head briefly. “I thought we agreed last night that you could trust me.”
“You asked me to trust you.”
“And your trust is not so easily given,” he murmured in response. “Undress for me, Mercy.”
I walked to stand in front of the chair and pulled my blouse from my skirt. With shaking fingers, I started to unbutton it. By the time the last of the buttons were undone, my hands were still. Refusing to look at him, I shrugged the blouse off and dropped it on the floor in front of him.
Our eyes met as I started to unfasten the front clasp of my bra. The room was too quiet. I swallowed hard and let the clasp go, and my bra fell from my hands to the floor. My fingers were nearly numb when I pulled at the tie of the wraparound skirt I was wearing. Finally, I stood before him in thigh-high stockings, panties, and a pair of flimsy strappy sandals.
“Leave the rest on.”
I looked at the chair and dropped my hands to my sides. “The chair is my space.”
“Yes.” His eyes drifted over me, taking in the hard points of my breasts and then moving downward to the sandals. “And I won’t invade that space unless you ask.”
“And if I never ask?”
He laughed. “I think we both know that you will. For now, let’s concentrate on the work.”
“Okay.” I sat down and he stood up, putting his pad and charcoal on the floor.
“Sit back in the chair and spread your legs.”
Flushing, I did as he requested. “Where do you want my hands?”
“On the arms of the chair.” He circled the chair, twice nodding, and then stopped in front of me and stared. “I don’t understand you, Mercy.”
“There’s not much to understand.”
“There is.” He stepped back from me. “Lean back in the chair.”
I sucked in a breath, did as he directed, and tried to ignore the way my nipples were starting to tingle. He went back to his sketch pad, seemingly satisfied with my position.
He said nothing for thirty minutes. He filled three sheets of paper with different perspectives of me in the chair, focusing on my legs. The sketches were spread out on the floor in between us as if he were making a puzzle of sorts. Then he moved to my upper body and face. I shifted a little restlessly but tried to keep the pose he’d arranged. When his eyes settled on mine, he sighed and shook his head.
“What?”
He set down the pad. “Your eyes betray you, Mercy.”
“What are you saying?”
“You’re a beautiful woman, you brim with sensuality, and yet I see a reserve in you that is misplaced. Women made like you aren’t meant to be reserved little kittens. Demure blushes are for the untried. A girl hides away, denies her sexuality. A woman embraces it and her own pleasure.”
“You think you see a lot.”
“I do see a lot.” He inclined his head. “You wanted me last night. Your body was flush with it.” His gaze traveled over my nipples, and they seemed to tighten further under his scrutiny. “Yet you made no attempt to encourage an advance. A woman makes her needs clear.”
I glared at him, disgruntled that he saw so much. “I will not fall at any man’s feet and beg for cock. I can buy one if I want one so badly.”
He laughed and nodded. “Yes, I suppose you can. There is no need to open yourself up to rejection or admit your needs when you’ve got a mechanical device at home at your beck and call.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and resisted the urge to flip him off. The arrogant bastard was working on being punched in the face. As if he knew it, I heard him sigh, and turned to look at him.
“Stand up and stretch.” He leaned back on his arms and looked me over. “And then remove the rest of your clothing.”
I did as he ordered. The control he had over the situation only added to my ire. We both knew that I had no way out of our agreement, and while he appeared to have some remorse about his methods, he had no intention of releasing me from the deal I had unwittingly made. I took my panties off and then sat down to remove my thigh-highs.
Naked once more, I thought. The flimsy shield of my panties that had protected the delicate flesh of my pussy was gone. Arousal sprung forward immediately. Being naked with this man had a way of making my physical world burn. A gentle wetness rushed against my clit, and I swallowed hard, ignoring the urge to put my hand over my pussy and hide.
Shaking a little, I looked toward him. “The same position?”
“No.” Inclining his head, he looked over my face. “Get comfortable, Mercy.”
I sat back fully in the chair and pulled my legs up against my chest. Wrapping my arms around my legs, I rested my chin on my knees. When I finally looked in his direction, he’d returned to his drawing, seemingly pleased with the position.
After about forty minutes, he closed the drawing pad and stood. “You can dress.”
I picked up my clothes as he walked away. Without looking to see where he was going, I hurried to the dressing screen. When I came out from behind the screen, he was sitting in the chair, a glass of wine dangling in one hand. The image was casually elegant and unpracticed.
“I thought that was my space.”
He glanced me over casually before meeting my gaze. “Only when you’re naked.”
“Are you getting what you need?”
He nodded. “Yes, exactly what I need. What do you need, Mercy?”
“What does any woman need?”
“I don’t care what any woman needs. I want to know what you need.”
“Peace,” I whispered. “All I’ve ever needed is peace, Shame.”
“Peace is no easy thing to provide.” He was silent for a moment and then he nodded. “And it is a difficult thing to gain on one’s own.”
I walked across the room and picked up my purse. Pulling out my keys, I shoved the thigh-highs and my panties into the bag and zipped it. He stood and followed me as I went to the door and down the stairs. At the front door, he pulled the key from his pocket and then paused.
“I’ve spent most of my adulthood in the company of beautiful and naked women. Women come to Boston just to pose for me.” He met my gaze and cleared his throat. “I’ve always had a rule about my models.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes.” He nodded, gripping the key tightly in his hand. “I don’t sleep with them.”
“Not even the one from earlier?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No, not even her. Though she did make herself available.”
“Have you ever been tempted?”
“Yes.” He moved closer. “In fact, I find myself in a dilemma at the moment.”
“I tempt you?”
“Yes, but I’m trying to maintain a professional distance until the project is finished.”
“I see.” I looked down at my shoes and then looked up to his face. “That sounds like a good plan, Shame.”
“
Yes.” He nodded in agreement.
He said something sharp under his breath and then slipped his fingers into my hair to cup the back of my head. He pulled me toward him and covered my mouth with his. I fell into the kiss without hesitating. It was so easy to sink into his mouth and his taste. Two years without the intimate touch of another human being had affected me in ways I’d never noticed. His tongue brushed against my lips and into my mouth. I accepted the invasion for what it was and hoped like hell he wouldn’t stop.
Shaking, I clung to him as he pressed me against the door. The blinds clinked against the glass and dug into my back as he ground his body against mine. Held so close to him, I could feel the emptiness build deep down inside. I curled my fingers into his shoulders and pulled my mouth from his with what little self-control I had left. We stayed still, heat pressed against heat, breathing heavily.
“I could smell your need clinging to the chair.” His mouth moved along my jaw. “Just thinking about it could make me come.”
I tightened my fingers in the fabric of his shirt. “Kiss me.”
He took my mouth without further encouragement. I started whimpering as I moved one leg against his. When the need to start begging emerged, I pulled my mouth from his and looked away from him. His hands slid down over my hips, and he took a shuddering breath.
“You aren’t wearing any panties, Mercy.”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “I feel rather naughty about it.”
“You should.” Shame brushed his lips across mine, and I moaned a little when he deepened the kiss briefly, then lifted his head. “You know I think you’re beautiful.”
“It’s nice to hear it.” He moved closer and pressed the hard ridge of his cock firmly against my hip. I didn’t need the reminder, but I reveled in it. “And feel it.”
“This is too soon.” His lips moved across my jaw to my neck.
“Then we should probably stop.” I moved, and the shades clinked against the glass.
“In a minute.” Shame slid his hand into my skirt, parting it where the material overlapped.
I gasped and closed my eyes as his hand cupped my sex. One blunt finger slipped up between my labia and teased at my clit. “Oh God.”
He moved his finger then, and dipped into my entrance. My grip tightened on him as I accepted the sweet invasion of his fingers. The shallow penetration made me weak all over, and I tightened my grip on his shoulders.
“Are you wet for me?”
The question made my insides clench up. I’d been wet for him since I’d set eyes on him. “Shame.”
“I know.” He pulled his hand away, and I shuddered at the abandonment. “Easy.”
“I need more.” The admission felt weak, and I closed my eyes.
“Do you need me, or will any man do?”
The whispered question was like a slap in the face. I jerked free of his hold and crossed my arms over my aching breasts. “That’s a fucked-up thing to ask.”
“I’ve a right to know if your attraction to me is casual.”
I was insulted, but inwardly I agreed that he did have a right to know. The fact was, I wanted him in a way that was alien to me. “I doubt any woman has ever considered a sexual relationship with you casual.” I glanced at him briefly. “I don’t have meaningless sex. I’m old enough to know better.”
He unlocked the door and looked at me. “Good night, Mercy.”
“Good night.” I wanted to touch him, but didn’t. Slipping past him, I walked through the door and out into the night.
Once in the car with the doors locked and my keys in the ignition, it took me several minutes to gather my wits enough to start my car. I could still feel his lips on mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth, his hands moving over me, and finally those fingers dipping into me. I both anticipated and dreaded our next meeting.
I turned on my cell phone and quickly dialed Jane’s number as I put my car in drive. The cord to the earpiece tangled in my hair briefly, but I got it straightened out before she picked up. I spoke as soon as I heard her voice. “Give me four good reasons to have wild, up-against-the-wall jungle sex with a man you barely know.”
“Orgasm, orgasm, orgasm, and if you don’t give him your real name he can’t hassle you later.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I am the single voice of reason for the modern upwardly mobile woman.” She popped her gum before continuing. “So, did you jump his bones?”
“Nope.”
“That sucks,” Jane sighed.
“Yeah, it’s beginning to.” With a frown, I stopped at a light. “Say, did you call me and hang up on my answering machine?”
“Nope, I usually hang up before the damn thing answers. You know those things piss me off.”
“We all have our mechanical axes to grind. Did you want to meet for breakfast?”
“Let’s see…Do I want to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to have breakfast with a woman who didn’t get laid tonight?” She paused for effect. “No. Hit me back with that offer when you have something juicy to share.”
I glanced back at the door of the gallery as I tossed my cell phone in the passenger seat of my car. I wish I had something juicy to share. I could’ve pretended that I didn’t know why he’d sent me on my way, but I knew. Shame wasn’t the sort of man who liked women to be coy. If I wanted to be in his life I would have to make my needs very clear to him.
I pressed my thighs together and tried to ignore how my clit still throbbed. The man had me twisted up in a pleasant if frustrating way. Remembering the feel of his fingers slipping into my pussy, I knew it was only a matter of time before my body started making the decisions for me. How much more could I take?
CHAPTER 5
A round 8:30 A.M., I seriously began to regret not having breakfast. I blamed Jane—it was unfair, but it worked for me. I could hear the faint buzz of saws coming from the east wing of the gallery, where Lisa’s show space was being prepped. Glancing out into the bull pen, I tried to remember exactly why I’d thought the woman sitting in the chair across from me was worth bringing in from Chicago. It wasn’t my money, but I hated the waste. I also hated interviews. This was certainly a task I would be passing along to someone else once I was Director.
“So, Ms. Banks, tell me, what can you see in Holman’s future?” I asked.
“Holman Gallery is certainly on the fast track. The contract with Shamus Montgomery you mentioned makes certain that the gallery will not lack for controversy. Controversy sells art. However, it doesn’t always give a gallery staying power.”
“Please continue.” I felt confident that she was going to tell me I was going to hell for encouraging pornography.
“I can bring clients to Holman who will appeal to populations not interested in sexualized art. You mentioned the gallery is going to start an outreach program for high schools? You’ll want areas of the gallery that you can guide the parents of these young people to. Art doesn’t always have to be violent or provoking.”
“I think art must always provoke. If it provokes nothing, then the creator obviously didn’t do his job. Art should make you cry, ache, and dream. If it doesn’t, then it’s a waste of space.” I sat back and let her chew on that.
“It appears that you have very specific plans for Holman’s.”
“I’ve created a vision for the future of Holman Gallery I promised to deliver, and I will.” Standing, I offered her my hand. “Ms. Banks, Jane has your travel arrangements made. I hope your flight back to Chicago is a pleasant one.”
The woman beat a hasty retreat from my office, and I walked toward the window. I heard Jane enter and shut the door. When I turned, she was slumped in the chair the formidable Ms. Banks had abandoned. I spoke. “She thinks I’m the female Larry Flynt.”
Jane shrugged. “She’s one of those people. You know, when I was younger my mother would shout out across the yard, ‘Jane Cornelia Tilwell, will you stop running around like a heathen! What wil
l people think?’”
“I always wondered who they were. Cornelia?”
“Shut up.” Jane looked at her shoes and sighed. “I bought some new shoes yesterday while you were at Montgomery’s not getting laid.”
Fingering my diamond pendent, I glanced at her briefly before focusing on the parking lot. “He kissed me.”
“Really?”
I laughed. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“And my insides melted. I’ve been attracted to men before, Jane, but he’s different. I can’t even explain it. Thank God I won’t have to see him tonight.”
Jane snorted. “You’re going to keep your date with the Nerd of the Month?”
“I am a woman of my word, and Jerry is not a nerd.”
“He’s so much a nerd that regular nerds wouldn’t hang out with him.” Jane grinned then and would’ve laughed if I hadn’t glared of her.
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s the kind of man you date. Boring, nerdy, tidy, men with stock portfolios and absolutely no sex appeal.”
“You don’t date men unless they have, at least, an undergraduate degree.”
“Yeah, but the men I date also have to be fuckable.”
“Fuckable?”
“Yes, fuckable. I wouldn’t even think about going out with a man if I couldn’t imagine myself fucking him.”
“I don’t engage in casual sex.”
She grinned. “There is nothing casual about it if you do it right.”
I thought briefly about Shame’s question the night before and sighed. Since thinking about him would make for a very unproductive day, I pushed those thoughts aside and put my mind to a problem I thought I could deal with.
“Send Sarah in, will you?”
“Will you turn on the intercom so I can listen?” She arched one eyebrow.
“No.”
Jane sighed. “I’m in dire need of real entertainment. Maybe the sexy delivery guy will bring a package today.” She strolled out of my office with a little wave over her shoulder.
This was not a conversation I wanted to have, but it had occurred to me that Sarah needed to know that she was being used. Since our conversation in the break room, I’d thought about how I was going to handle her. When Sarah arrived, she shut the door quietly and walked toward me, then chose a chair in the middle of the grouping.