by Chloe Cox
She was starting to come to, her heart slowing, her breathing returning to normal. She curled into his chest more, and he squeezed her tight. He wouldn’t let her go until he had to.
He let his face fall, his lips brushing her head. He’d been careful, hadn’t he? All that work he’d done, all that introspection, all those years learning about how to be a loving dominant. Hell, he’d read books. That had worked, hadn’t it? He hadn’t ended up that way. He’d never wanted to hurt anybody; he’d only been thinking about her welfare, how she felt, what she needed.
And yet, still, he’d pushed her too far. Pushed her past a boundary that mattered to her.
If he had hurt her—again—he’d never forgive himself.
“Hey,” she said, and looked up at him with those sleepy blue eyes.
“There you are,” he said, and kissed her forehead. “How’re you doing?”
She seemed to know what he was asking. It was in the pause, in her slow blink, in her thoughtful expression. Like she was taking the time to compose herself, make a decision. She must have been coming to in his arms for a while. That, or he was so crazed that he was imagining things.
Finally, she gave a lazy, playful shrug. “I guess I’ve been worse.”
He laughed out loud with relief. She might still be coming out of subspace, but he knew Ava. And she wouldn’t have forgotten the questions he’d asked. Maybe she wasn’t answering them, but at least she wasn’t holding it against him.
“Oh, really?”
She squealed as he went in to tickle the bottoms of her feet and rolled off of his lap with surprising agility, considering. She hopped away, robe wrapped snugly around her, shaking her finger at him before he could get up.
Jackson stared after her. With just her expression, just that gesture, it was like she’d sent them back in time. Just like it had been when they’d last stayed up all night, talking and laughing, as though he hadn’t lost ten years with her. Like they were still young and stupid, and free to joke around without worrying about what unseen landmines lay beneath the surface, what emotional baggage lay around, just waiting to trip them up. He knew it couldn’t last like that, that the past would have to be dealt with. But at that moment, he chose to believe it would last at least a little bit longer.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as she sauntered towards the kitchen counter.
“For some inexplicable reason, I’m feeling kind of hungry,” she said over her shoulder. “And I distinctly remember cupcakes.”
She flipped open the box, then paused as something else caught her attention. She held up the red envelope he’d brought back with him and shot him a questioning look.
“What’s this?”
“You’ll find out.”
She smiled sweetly, bringing her cupcake back into the living room where she sat on his toy chest—he assumed so she could taunt him while she licked icing off of her fingers. “Tell me now,” she said. “And you can have some of this.”
Jackson hadn’t pulled every string imaginable to score the most exclusive invitation in all of New York City—hell, the entire east coast, maybe—just to blow the surprise over a cupcake. A cupcake that he had bought. He told her as much.
“Unless you were talking about something else,” he said, standing up. He was still hard from making her come, and he hadn’t forgotten what she had looked like, spread and prone. “But I thought I should give you a break. I put you through quite a workout.”
“Speak for yourself,” she said, smiling. She licked the last of the icing from her fingertips. “I’ve stayed in shape.”
He couldn’t deny that.
“What would you do,” she said airily, waving the envelope at him, “if I just opened it?”
She was playing at being a brat, but that would be bad. Ava’s impish streak aside, the invitation needed to be presented sealed, or they wouldn’t get in. He’d had to go all the way to midtown in the snow to pick it up in person. He glowered at her.
“Ava, don’t try it.”
“Or what?”
“You’ve got quite an attitude for a sub, you know that?”
“I’m not all that submissive outside the bedroom, Jacks,” she said.
And she smiled that charming smile at him again, the one that let him know she thought she had him in the palm of her hand. Well, she did—it was true. But he had a hold on her, too.
“Red velvet,” he said.
Her eyes got really wide, really fast. He watched her memory go into overdrive, watched her remember exactly what those two words meant.
“I know you’re anything but submissive outside the bedroom, Ava, and believe me when I say that I love that about you,” he said as he walked toward her. “But this week, sweetheart, the whole damn world is the bedroom.”
He wanted to smile, remembering how excited she’d gotten when he had given her an access word, and seeing the flush creeping up her neck now. But he kept his face stern. He stood over her while she looked up at him with those big eyes, and began to unbuckle his jeans.
“Red velvet,” he said again, and this time he put that Dom edge in his voice.
She blinked once, twice. Then she slowly took off the robe, got on her knees, and bent over the chest.
He’d only been half-serious, but looking at her smooth skin, her soft thighs, and the pink of her lips quivering there, just waiting for him, he couldn’t resist. He freed his engorged cock as soon as he could, grabbed hold of her shoulder with one hand, spread her with the other, and mounted her.
He plunged into her, wanting to feel himself buried to the hilt inside her. He heard her cry out and she bucked backward, her head dipping low as she drove her hips to meet him. Holy fuck, there was no one like her—there never had been anyone like her. She fit him to perfection. He fell on top of her, wrapping his hand in her hair and pulling her up so he could play with her breasts while he rode her.
He fucked her long and hard, holding off while she came twice around his tortured cock, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He felt his mind floating away, and all that was left was the pure animal need, and he grabbed hold of her hips and drove into her until he lost himself in her. This time, it was Jackson screaming her name.
He collapsed on top of her, and they stayed like that for some time, the red envelope lying on the floor in front of them like a promise.
chapter 10
I am such a dumbass.
Ava caught herself picking at the loose threads on the edges of her peacoat, balled her hand into a fist, and smiled nervously at Jackson. They were bundled together in the backseat of an expansive, comfortable town car, speeding towards some secret destination, to do Ava had no idea what. She was both excited and petrified, which was becoming the standard combination around Jackson.
Somehow he’d already gotten to her. In just over twenty-four hours, he’d already gotten closer to her by showing her how much he understood—without words—what she wanted, what she needed, physically and emotionally, more than anyone else ever had. That sinking feeling in the pit of Ava’s stomach was telling her that she’d have to build her walls back up, and she’d have to do it quickly, if she were going to survive this week with her heart intact.
Her feelings of anxiety had started small after that first twenty-four hours. They had been a glorious twenty-four hours, Ava had to admit. She’d be thinking about the things he’d done to her until the day she died. And all the sex hadn’t left her much time or energy for worrying about each and every little thing. The result had been so deceptively easy, as though nothing had changed. Feeling close to him had just snuck up on her, as though they’d just picked up where they’d left off, like they’d never hurt each other, like ten years hadn’t passed them by.
But, Ava thought ruefully, they have.
That’s what had started small, she realized: the reminders that it really had been ten years. That they both really had lived lives in that time, and things were different now. That there were so
many things she didn’t know about him, so many things he didn’t choose to share with her. It made her realize that he’d never shared much with her.
Take, for example, the fact that Jackson was obviously both rich and powerful now. Not that those things didn’t suit him—in fact, now Ava would have had trouble imagining him any other way—but he no longer felt like a peer. That morning, he had made an important phone call and talked about possible stock options and underwriting from big banks and when to leak what news to which tech magazines, and she felt totally lost. What world did he live in now? It didn’t feel like a world she could possibly understand.
And that had just been this morning. He’d made that call while she lay next to him, naked.
Then there was his manner. It was…different. More authoritative then she remembered, more in control. He was still him, but somehow more so. She didn’t know what to make of it, exactly, but she knew she had no idea where it had come from.
And that made her afraid. Because this was a temporary arrangement, and she was already in serious danger of getting lost in what was essentially a vacation to the past, the past as it should have been, and not something that could reasonably be expected to survive into the future.
By the time they’d gotten into the car, that red envelope secured away in Jackson’s pocket, Ava was actively looking for more telltale differences, more indications of the distance between them. It was like she was hoarding them, clutching them to her like passing pieces of driftwood that might keep her from drowning in the way she felt about Jackson Reed.
This is not real life, Ava reminded herself for about the billionth time. Eventually it will have to end. Keep it physical.
“You ok?” Jackson asked, jolting her out of her head. He reached over and grabbed her hand. Just his touch electrified her all over again.
“Yeah,” she lied. “Just wondering where you’re taking me.”
He smiled devilishly. It was hard not to smile back and mean it.
“You are going to love it,” he said. “Almost as much as I’m going to love you loving it.”
And he waggled his eyebrows at her. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “You are ridiculous,” she said.
“You have no idea, sweetheart.”
He pulled her across the seat and nestled her in the crook of his arm. Ava leaned into him with a sigh and watched the snow-covered trees pass by. She tried hard to enjoy the moment and not think too much about the future while they sped through New York towards the unknown.
~ ~ ~
Ava managed to calm herself during the long drive, but then became unaccountably nervous again as their car pulled into a long, wooded drive. Well, maybe not unaccountably. There was an insane fence—no, not a fence, a genuine stone wall—and then one of those imposing wrought iron gates that opened remotely when their car approached. They’d been driving on what was apparently private property for way too long. This obviously wasn’t a normal house or building or whatever: it was an estate.
Ava wasn’t wrong. They came around a bend in the gravel drive, and there was a stately, snow-covered gothic mansion, like something that had been lifted out of the English countryside and plopped down in the middle of this New York suburb.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Bedford,” Jackson answered. Bedford was a town a little north of the city. She punched his arm.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Jackson turned and gave her a serious look. “Narnia,” he said.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“I’m going to show you.”
Ava reddened. What did that mean?
She only had time to think of a few possibilities, each more explicit than the last, before the car crunched to a slow stop in front of a grand, arched entrance. Ever the gentleman, Jackson helped her out of the car while the driver unloaded their bags. That was another thing she’d missed: Jackson’s Oklahoma upbringing had done him right in some ways, even if he had always been reluctant to actually talk about it. Chivalry was not dead. Still, she looked at the luggage with a vague degree of discomfort. She didn’t even know what they held. Jackson had called Bergdorff’s and given them an amazingly accurate estimation of her measurements and told them to make up a bag. Ava hadn’t known you could just…do that. She’d tried not to think about how many other women Jackson had done that for.
Jackson thumped on the trunk of the car, and they watched it drive off. As soon as it had rounded a curve, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
“Was that a clue?” she asked, trying to regain her composure. The air between them was just cold and wet enough for their breath to hang in the air. Jackson’s cheeks had started to get red already, and his grey eyes sparkled.
“Nah, that was just because I felt like it,” he said, stooping to pick up the bags. “You hungry?”
Actually, she was starving. They’d barely had time for breakfast in between all their extracurricular activities, and it was almost lunchtime. “Yes, now that you mention it, I’m kind of famished.”
“Well, we’ll go in and get some lunch first.”
He walked toward the doors, blithely unaware that she stayed put. This annoyed her to no end.
“Jackson Reed, tell me where we are!”
Jackson looked over his shoulder, grinning broadly. “We’re at Volare’s Christmas retreat, sweetheart. Now get your ass in here before I feel the need to take measures.”
A thrill passed through Ava’s entire body. Volare’s Christmas retreat? A BDSM Christmas retreat?
What the hell was that?
~ ~ ~
The place was just as immense and intimidating as it appeared from the outside. The ceilings in the entry hall were at least two stories high, maybe higher, and arched, like the inside of an ancient cathedral. There were so many nooks and crannies hidden away in shadow that the only possible intent was melodrama.
Jackson looked up and laughed softly.
“Bet Casper’s up there,” he said.
Ava felt her own laughter bubble up uncontrollably. “Are we in a gothic novel? Like, do you have a crazy wife up in the attic that I don’t know about, and the housekeeper will try to make me go crazy?”
“Who told you about my wife?” Jackson deadpanned.
Ava laughed, but she already regretted the joke. How could she possibly feel insecure? She had no claim. It shouldn’t bother her to think about Jackson’s past or the women he’d known. Or knew. That was, in fact, a terrible sign that she wasn’t doing such a hot job keeping those strings from just attaching themselves all over the place.
Smooth move, Ava. You don’t need a meddling housekeeper to make yourself crazy, do you?
Ava shook her head and looked up to find Jackson studying her. He was about to say something when they were interrupted by a slim young man dressed in a tailored black suit. He had the longest eyelashes Ava had ever seen on a man.
Jackson handed him the red envelope.
“Thank you, Mr. Reed,” the young man said, pocketing the envelope and gathering up their bags. “Master Roman is expecting you, but he’s out until tomorrow evening. I’ll take these up to your room.”
“We’ll have lunch first,” Jackson said firmly, eyeing Ava. “Is it the room I had last time?”
Ava tried not to show her dismay. Last time. Of course he’d been there before. Odds were that he hadn’t been alone. Get over it, Barnett, this is exactly what you’re not supposed to do!
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I know where it is. Can you take our coats?”
Ava didn’t see how, but the young porter found a way to balance all their things on his thin frame. Jackson seemed to admire the effort the guy put into it. After some back and forth with Jackson retrieving things from his coat pockets and tipping the poor kid—who looked like he was about to tip over himself—they were off to lunch.
“I feel underdressed,” Ava said. She was whispering in deferen
ce to the vaulted cathedral ceilings.
“Really? I was just thinking you were overdressed.”
And just in case she didn’t get his meaning, Jackson reached down and gave her ass a good squeeze. Ava pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Trust Jackson to chase away crazy thoughts with some inappropriate touching.
“Incorrigible,” she muttered.
They had the large, exquisitely furnished dining room mostly to themselves. There was a very quiet but intense couple off in a corner, easy enough to forget. Everything around them was decorated in ivory: the tablecloths, the chairs, and even the wallpaper, which was lightly flecked with gold. They’d been there all of thirty seconds before a white-coated waiter appeared out of nowhere to serve them coffee.
“What is this place, seriously?” Ava asked Jackson as the waiter faded away. Obviously the place was staffed, but she could already see that the staff had an almost spooky habit of melting out of sight when not needed. She was starting to feel completely out of place, and her anxieties about, well, pretty much everything, were returning in full force.
“What, you’ve never been to a secret, isolated estate for wealthy sexual deviants?” Jackson was hunting around for something in his pockets and missed Ava’s expression.
“We’re not deviants,” she said.
He looked up, surprised. Concerned. “Of course not. I was joking. Ava,” he said, reaching across the table to grasp her chin. “I was joking.”
“I know. I’m sorry, it’s just…”
She had been thinking about the first time they’d slept together, all those years ago. He seemed to know it. He looked at her for another moment, a beat longer.
“What?” she said.
“Just thinking. We’re here for a reason, you know. I’ve got plans for you,” he added with that sly, dark smile.
Adrenaline shot through her, and she suddenly became very aware of her entire body. It unnerved her that she had no idea what he could be planning. It was exciting, and yet, it was another reminder of how much she didn’t know about this newer, older Jackson Reed.