I scanned the paper, noticing a strange omission. “There isn’t anywhere I can input the personality or the kind of person I want.”
“We ask that you refrain from describing your type. We find it diminishes the attraction by lacking in mystery and circumvents any expectations of your type. I can guarantee you’ll find your Experience Creator attractive.”
Mr. Paré left me to take my tests; one on the tablet he provided and the other on the screen built into the computer desk.
In the white room with halogen lights and study booths, only two other people were in the testing facility.
It took an hour to float through two hundred questions—invasive, general, and teetering on mind-fucking—and an hour more to input my comments.
Mr. Paré returned. “Time’s up.”
In a scramble, I hurried to finish up the comments section and include every possible thing I wanted that couldn’t have been extracted from the questionnaire.
As Mr. Paré neared me, I typed in the most crucial sentence: Make me feel my mortality, because I’m in denial.
Mr. Paré leaned forward and typed a few things into the tablet. My exam disappeared from the screen. Standing back, he fiddled with his tablet and gestured for me and the others to follow him toward the elevator shaft. After a moment of scanning his tablet, Mr. Paré eyed the two gentlemen in front of me. “Thank you for your time, but we don’t believe you’ll be a good fit for our simulated experiences.”
Watching the men’s backs as they left, I waited for the same speech.
“Miss Barcel? Here’s the preliminary estimate for the cost of services.” Mr. Paré extended his tablet at me. A long series of figures blared across the screen with a rectangle bar that called for my signature. “If you agree with the amount, please sign. Thereafter, sign at the X on page 25, 54, and 102. Those are liability and billing contracts, which we’ll file with our legal department.”
Stunned, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the number in red on a black background. “Is there a reason the bill is the exact amount of what’s left in my trust and savings accounts?” I asked. “If I agree to this, I’ll not have a cent to my name.”
“It’s a sliding scale, Miss Barcel.”
If these people could obtain my name and my exact holdings so freely, I questioned if I could trust them at all. However, the growing voice of irresponsibility took over and screamed at me to sign my name. I had nothing left to lose but my life. Giving up what I had in order to immerse myself in what I always wanted couldn’t match any price tag.
“What if I had nothing?” I questioned, pondering the possibilities after signing over what I had left of my life away. “Would you turn me down?”
The man was fast and stealthy. I hadn’t realized he stuck me with a needle until a sudden prick on my shoulder caused me to yelp.
Mr. Paré revealed his hand, showing a computerized steel needle. Whether it was full or empty, I couldn’t tell. The world went white for a while.
“I apologize,” Mr. Paré said, sounding far from apologetic, “but if I’d warned you beforehand, you would’ve braced for the pain.”
“What was it for?”
“Several things. It covers testing for communicable diseases, pregnancy, and such. Things that would make you an unfit candidate for the experience.” He pocketed the syringe, likely going against any contamination protocol. “You’re all set. Once the experience begins, we won’t allow reentry into the facility.” He ignored my question and darted his hand toward the elevator across the way.
“What if I want a second experience?”
“Yours will be a onetime experience.”
“Because I’m dying?”
Mr. Paré gave me a terse smile.
“How will I know when it ends?”
“It”—his eyes darted to a particular place on the ceiling, “will be very clear. Have a good day, Miss Barcel.”
I rubbed the minor bump on my neck, wondering if the syringe injected a cure instead of drawing my blood. I came to Executive Suites with a wicked headache, and somehow since then, it had been eradicated.
As I walked outside of Executive Suites, I thought of more questions. “What if I don’t like my—”
I glanced behind me. My uppity guide disappeared.
CHAPTER FOUR
MY FATHER’S ESTATE overlooked a private beach on the secluded shore in Carlsbad. The Mediterranean style home sat in front of what could’ve been a breathtaking and unobstructed view of the Pacific.
Helga, the nanny, housekeeper, and tutor for all of my young life, stood in the atrium, waiting for me. She held me close, keeping a firm grip on my shoulders. More lines had appeared on her face since the last time I saw her. White streaks overtook the gray tones in her hair. Her thin lips had turned almost nonexistent. “I don’t want all the machines around his bed to scare you. He’s bad off. Near the end.”
“Is Deidre here?” I looked beyond her, in search of the woman my father married a year ago.
My mother was my father’s self-professed love of his life and his greatest heartbreak. She inexplicably died when I was young. Deidre was my father’s long-time assistant. They knew each other before my mother entered the picture. After they married, my father was diagnosed with cancer.
Deidre came into the relationship with nothing other than debt, a daughter a few years my junior, Tana, and a very hateful attitude toward me. She took the term ‘evil stepmother’ to an extreme level. I tried to play nice, but she took a shit in my sandbox. I was no longer cordial or responsive to her or her daughter, who always wanted to compete with me. The last time I encountered Deidre, my father had the ability to speak.
Helga’s sidelong glances verged on awkward.
I stepped forward with questioning eyes. “What has Deidre done now? If you’ve seen—”
Helga waved her hand at me, startled for a moment. “We had a robbery a few weeks back. I don’t know what they took. Deidre’s being secretive about it. Be careful.” She nodded toward the grand stairs. “Go see your father.” Swiveling on her black orthopedic shoes, she headed to the kitchen without another word.
I ascended up the open center stairs and took the right hall toward my father’s bedroom. The stench of rot and pending death burned my nostrils. He usually kept his bedroom in pristine condition. Dust was everywhere, except for the machines. Layers of black tulle draped his four-post California King bed. The machines made a steady humming sound as they helped him to breathe.
I peeled back the layers of tulle. His eyes were open, staring into space.
“Father?”
His eyes remained transfixed on a ghost. His generally vacant and cold eyes were even emptier than normal. He was living death.
I sat on the edge of the bed and took his frigid, rough hand. “Father, I have something to tell you.”
His eyes shifted, resting on me for less than a second. With a lazy jerk, he removed his hand from mine and slanted his head to stare at the wall opposite me.
He hadn’t said a word, but his message wormed around like acid inside my veins.
Pain thrummed inside my head and threatened to make me fall apart over someone who was the least deserving. Raymond Barcel—for an unknown reason—hated and resented me until his dying breath.
What followed was a blur.
I DIDN’T SPEAK to Helga on my way out, other than to tell her a hasty goodbye, leaving before I ran into Tana. I trotted around the house, to the stairs built over the steep bluff, leading to the beach. A pitch-black sky was lit by a crescent moon.
A tingle rushed up to my spine and whispered to turn around. It was so real, I thought someone snuck up on me. I readied myself with my keys drawn, prepared to stab someone in the eye. Nothing was there.
Midnight blue water grazed against the dark beige sand. In the distance, on the private beach directly behind my father’s house, a glimpse of a limb rolled under the tide.
Flailing arms and a hint of a back appeared on the
surface of the water before it disappeared. The cold night air nipped at my exposed skin, forcing me to slip into my leather jacket. I walked toward the shore until the chilly water tickled my feet and I threw off my shoes to avoid ruining them.
I took a few steps backward, allowing space to disorient the stranger with the keys clutched in my hand.
He appeared out of the ocean. Rivulets of water ran from his headful of pitch-black hair to his shoulders and chest. The front strands touched his chin, threading down the side of his face as if thick, glistening cords. It was none other than Mr. Perfect.
Pale blue light shimmered off the olive skin of his broad shoulders, sculpted chest, and muscled torso. I followed the line of his V-muscle, leading to a nearly hairless groin and an impressive thick and lengthy cock swinging between well-defined thighs.
Oh. My. God. My eyes widened like I was a virginal schoolgirl who’d never seen a cock in person.
A smile spread his plump, pigmented lips, creating deep indentations in his cheeks. It was a smile that could’ve made ice evaporate.
Closer to him now than when I was at the office, I wasn’t sure if he was real. Looking the way he did, he couldn’t have been. I didn’t find a single flaw. It was as though he was born with an Instagram filter. He stood there, proudly, sweeping over my body with his ebony eyes. His jawline, reminiscent of a superhero, tensed.
I swallowed back the catch in my throat, rendering my thirst unbearable. Flashes of drinking the salty ocean water from his body filled my head, awakening my pussy with feverish tingles.
I played it off and fought tooth and nail not jump his bones as I wanted to because the reality was a strange, albeit beautiful, man took a swim on private property. He was obviously insane.
I rolled my shoulders back and frowned. “I’m going to assume the gun-and-extra-limb-blowing-in-the-breeze show was for me. It might make other women drop their wet panties and touch their toes. I’m not that woman.”
I bit my lip as my knees buckled at the thought of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I wanted to fuck the senses out of him. “Put your damn clothes on, whoever you are. This is a private beach.”
His chin met his chest. The corner of his mouth tilted upward, taunting me. His long, lean and conditioned legs took one step forward, leaving less than a foot of space between us.
I was now looking up at him. The water I wanted to lick from every muscle on his body was dripping onto parts of my body. I moistened my lips and used the full extent of my willpower to keep from tasting it.
“You’re lying, Regan.” The grit and roughness of his voice seduced me further as his eyes trailed up my body. “Not the best way to begin.” His head swayed from side to side, chastising me as though I was his disobedient pet.
Then, it registered that he knew my name.
I folded my arms across my chest, reprimanding him with a lift of my brow. “How the fuck do you know who I am?”
He kept smiling, deepening his dimples.
I should’ve known he was my Experience Creator, initiating my fantasy.
I shifted my weight back and forth, dropping my trembling hands, yelling at him in silence how much he intimidated me.
He took notice of them, and what he thought of my reaction wasn’t easily discerned.
I questioned my decision and what I filled out on my application, taking a chance on an unconventional company. My logical side screamed: I’m not well prepared! I only had to draw on a life of unfilled desires, and had no idea how to live a full life.
His naked body helped little in my need to form a coherent thought. It was very distracting.
It was better to just assume I was getting everything I wanted and go with it. “Are you going to tell me who you are?”
His eyes bore into me and left me with a sense of dread that I’d soon lose out on an opportunity.
I wished he’d gently taken me under, instead of throwing me into the deep end, head-first. I hadn’t ever had a relationship outside of Emile.
In the middle of my thought, my Experience Creator passed right by me. His scent wasn’t of the salty ocean water, but of crisp linens and peppery citrus.
“Wait.” I spun around to face him. His wide shoulder blades and waist with at least a ten-inch difference greeted me. Striated muscles flexed and released as he rolled his neck.
I marched around him, blocking his path, giving him no other choice but to give me his full attention. “Can you give me your name? I’ve seen you naked. You at least owe me that.”
He answered me with a tilt of his dark and straight brow.
“I’ll start. I’m Regan, and you are…?” I extended my hand out to him.
His eyes trailed to the sand until all I could see were his voluminous, curly, black lashes. He was stuck in the position for an unsettling amount of time.
I rocked on my heels and plastered on a strained smile. “Well? Don’t leave me in suspense.”
His eyes trailed upward. “It’s Calind.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Well, Calind—”
“I can read your mind, and the last thing you want is boring and usual. Don’t make it so.”
I shook my head, thinking if I shook it hard enough, he would get out of my thoughts. He was unreal. “Stop. I feel like you’re reading my diary.”
“Don’t leave it open for reading.”
My attention trailed over his body and rested on an impressive part. If this was him during cooler weather, he’d have to take it easy with me. My teeth dipped into my lip as I stared at his long, thick, tan membrane.
Calind stepped forward and captured my chin in his grip, forcing my head to slant. “It’s more than you can handle right now. We’ll get to ravenously fucking each other, eventually. Be patient.”
There wasn’t enough water in the world to ease the sudden dryness in my throat. “Th-then what are we doing now?”
“Traveling.”
“Where? I have to prepare and make plans and—”
“Regan,” he called with something short of a moan. “Let go of your need to rely on old habits, before I force you.” He walked past me. On a large rock up the beach, his clothes were laid out.
Riveted, I enjoyed the view of each muscle movement and every expert and confident sweep of his hands as he dressed. A crisp button up and a pair of slacks made him look like both a bag of money and sex on a plate.
“Just curious. How did you get by my father’s secur—”
“Security has been off duty for quite some time,” he interjected as he placed a gold watch on his wrist—the kind that self-winds. “You’re doing it again.”
“I can’t change the way I am overnight.”
A confident swagger bled through his stride as he headed up the stairs leading to the short drive in front of the house.
“I don’t remember seeing your car out here. Where are we going and how are we going to get there?”
He stopped at the drive and grabbed my waist. Even with the lack of skin-to-skin contact, I felt as though his strong hands were touching my bare flesh. Goosebumps snaked up my dark skin, leaving me humming with a feeling I couldn’t suppress.
“You’re driving.” He shoved a key fob in my hand. “We’re taking the sexy red number right before you.”
My boring black car, which arguably didn’t reflect what I earned per year, was no longer there. Instead, a red Jaguar F-type stood in its place.
“H-how?” I held up the keys as though they were made of magic dust. “Is that mine?”
“Yes.” He strode toward the car. Turning and noticing I wasn’t at his side, he walked backward. “Today we’re having fun. Answers to your mundane questions? Never.” He stopped walking. “Exist, Regan. I’ll handle the rest.” Commanding words and ebony eyes that meant business sent a shudder up my spine.
“Baby steps,” I strangled to demand.
“Regan, I won’t indulge you. I’m the master at the helm, and I will guide this ship where it needs to go.” He c
ontinued to walk at a swift pace difficult to match.
I threw on my shoes and caught up with him—actually crashed into him since he stopped walking. “Okay, but where are we going?”
Calind turned, picking me up in his arms and slid me on the hood of the car. It was swift enough to make me lose my equilibrium. He yanked my legs apart with his cutting grip on my thighs and adjusted them to hook over and around his hips. He shoved a hand in the crown off my hair—gripping, ripping, and pulling my kinky curls. With one jerk, he forced my neck to arc and set my gaze to the sky. His tepid breath cooled my neck.
My heart thumped in my ears, and I heard little else. The fever in my core burned. My panties became uncomfortable, clinging to the wet lips of my pussy.
His tongue ran up my neck. I gasped an indiscernible word as the sensation shocked my body. The ground underneath me evaporated.
I reached up, clutching either side of his waist to brace for the ride.
Sucking kisses laced with tongue extended up my chin and stopped just shy of my lips. An ache in the pit of my belly spread everywhere. Every patch of my skin wanted his lips, his touch, his mark.
Fuck, what’s this man doing to me?
My stomach flipped so much, I thought I’d vomit. He was a commander, controlling my body. I was on an island and my reactions were drifting out on a life raft toward a ship on fire, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“What did I say?” His soft words rumbled against my damp and receptive skin.
“No questions,” I whispered, feeling like a wild stallion being whipped into submission. “No requests.”
He tightened his hold on my hair, tugging until my neck craned more. He leaned in, his lips barely touching my skin, and blew out a stream of chilly air. “What do I want?” A hand slid across my throat, taking an achingly long time to reach my sternum.
Shit, there went the shudders again. “Obedience.”
He released me, and I fell back on the hood. I caught myself, careful not to wreck my new car.
The Vamp Experience_The Full Experience Page 4