by Kane, Jessa
“Of course you didn’t,” I say briskly, adjusting the newspaper.
She reaches across the table and lays a hand on my wrist. “Will you talk to me about it sometime? When you’re ready?”
Unable to look at her, I incline my head. And promptly divert the focus of the conversation. “Are you telling me you’d have let her keep the money?”
Maisy takes back her hand, thinks for a moment. “Yes. I don’t know why she made those decisions, but…I don’t love her any less because of them. And sometimes when you love something or someone, you have to let them fly away, right? You have to accept that the thing that’s going to fulfill them or make them happy…isn’t you.”
I bark a humorless laugh. “Bullshit. In what world, Maisy, are you not the most fulfilling part of a person’s life?”
This simple question appears to throw her for a loop. “Maybe you see me differently than she does,” she murmurs. “Whatever her reason…I don’t want her stripped of her job and future, Jack. My eyes are open now and that’s more valuable than revenge.”
She’s too good for you.
Her heart is too pure.
I’m nasty soot on the inside and she’s clean light.
Is it too much to hope that I can learn from her? Or is too late for me?
I clear my throat hard. “You can return the money and plane ticket to her. In your own time. If that’s what you want.”
“Yes. Thank you,” she breathes, tension draining from her shoulders.
“But I won’t employ her again. Not after she hurt you.”
Maisy nods. “I understand.” Finally, she takes a sip of her orange juice and I watch, rapt, as she licks the excess moisture from her lips, my dick a stiff pike under the table. “I missed work last night. I’ll need to call my boss and explain I won’t be back for two more days.”
“Tell them you won’t be back at all.”
Her eyes flash with challenge. “I don’t know that for sure. I have to give proper notice.”
I grind my back teeth, barely resisting the urge to throw my steaming mug of coffee against the wall. My Maisy might be pure, but she’s stubborn as hell. And I have no doubt that if she doesn’t find and fall for the real Jack within the next two days, she will absolutely go back to scrubbing floors, even with the first hundred thousand in her bank account.
And I’ll turn into a stark raving mad man. “I want to give you everything,” I say, evenly as possible. “Home, comfort, safety. Everything you see behind me.” Deliberately, I let my tone drop way down. “Baby, I want to give you sex. The kind you didn’t even know you needed until I was inside you.”
A flush climbs her throat, her eyelids drifting down slightly. “I know what you can give me, Jack. I’m more worried about what you can’t.” She studies me with a wrinkled brow. “You’re still hiding. Do you want to be found?”
“I don’t know,” I say hoarsely.
After a brief stare down across the table, she nods. “When are you leaving for work?”
“I’m not.” I rear back a little, coffee cup poised near my mouth. “Did you think I would waste my three days?”
Her features register surprise. “What are we doing instead?”
I think back to the arrangements I made last night while she slept and I find myself…nervous about whether or not she’ll approve of my plan. Is this how regular, average men feel before a date? Jesus, am I one of them now? I fucking hope not. “It’s a surprise.”
Spoiling Maisy isn’t the way to her heart.
That doesn’t mean I’m not going to do it.
Excessively.
I just have to remember to carve open my chest and show her the inner workings of Jack Lincoln somewhere along the way…and hope she redeems me.
9
Maisy
Jack has to take back-to-back business calls during our drive to the city, but I don’t mind. It gives me the chance to center myself. To replay our conversation from earlier. Jack doesn’t have a mother? Where and how did he grow up? He seemed genuinely perplexed that I didn’t want to put my own mom in the poorhouse—and I find that very telling. Perhaps Jack isn’t as insensitive as he wants to portray. Maybe he is just ignorant of love.
In what world, Maisy, are you not the most fulfilling part of a person’s life?
Words spoken so matter-of-factly that they left me shaken.
But does Jack want to love me? Or possess me?
My body doesn’t seem to care which, so I need to keep my hormones in line. My body thrills to the idea of being his possession, which I think is where a lot of my doubt about Jack’s intentions stem from. I’m discovering this…this kink—and I can’t even believe I’m attributing that word to myself. But these raw needs he’s introducing to my body turn me into a plaything. Afterward, I’m fulfilled. Beyond fulfilled.
I’m also left wondering if it’s affection that drives him to give me such pleasure?
Or pure lust?
And so, the man remains an enigma. At least I know there’s a past that might give me insight into Jack Lincoln, this man who can freak out over me bumping my head, but also fire my mother and strip her income without hesitation…but will he even let me go there? When I asked him to talk about not having a mother, he totally shut down.
Maybe he needs to trust me more first.
I’ve made myself vulnerable to him physically, but what about emotionally? Maybe I can give a little more and hope he responds in kind. Lets me in. Because I find myself genuinely eager to know Jack. Every moment with him is like walking a tightrope, my breath locked in my lungs. And it’s unclear what’s on the other side of the rope…but I continue to put one foot in front of the other anyway.
There is a safety net below, right? My old life is still there. But there’s no such net for my heart if Jack turns out to be exactly who he warned me he is.
Jack’s limousine pulls up in front of a modern office building, the lobby visible through a panel of glass doors. The driver gets out and opens the door for us and I step out onto the curb, watching Jack exit after me and button his gray suit jacket with a practiced movement. The pedestrian foot traffic bottlenecks around us and I notice several women turning their heads to stare at Jack, mouths agape. A little snick of jealousy catches me off guard, but a moment later, Jack obliterates it.
“Come on.” He tucks me into his side, scowling at the passersby. “Every man that walks past us is staring at you.”
I blink at his profile. “I think you’re forgetting how we met.”
With a soft scoff, he guides me toward the entrance, his palm sliding down low and remaining on the curve of my backside. “That was different.”
“How?”
“When I’m fucking you, you’re mine. There’s no question of it.” He opens the door and we walk side by side into the cool interior. “When I’m not…”
Realizing he isn’t going to answer, I pull him to a stop. “When you’re not…?”
His throat works and he seems to be having difficulty looking at me. “When I’m not inside you, I have to rely on just me. As you’ve pointed out, we don’t know who that is yet. So I feel…I don’t know. Inadequate.” He winks. “Unlike when we’re naked and I’m a sex god.”
“You’re not inadequate, Jack,” I whisper. “Not in any way.”
A brisk laugh leaves him. “I’m a work in progress, is that it?”
I shake my head. “That implies I want to change you. I don’t.”
He searches my eyes. “What do you want to do, angel?”
“Uncover you.” I lift up on my toes and tease our lips together. “And you’re already letting me, just by telling me you feel inadequate.”
His nod is serious. “I feel horny, too. Does that earn me points?”
Several people turn to stare at my giggle. And I realize we’re standing in the middle of an extremely busy lobby, pressed up against each other with Jack’s hand caressing my butt through my flowery, lightweight skirt. I try to disen
gage, but he resists, drawing me tighter, tighter, until I can feel the muscles of his stomach, the thick rod pressing up between us. “Jack…” I say, breathily.
“I had a business partner. A friend from college.” Sensing he’s telling me something important, I hold my breath and wait for him to continue. “He sold shares of our company out from under me when I trusted him. More than anyone. And that trust was…really hard to give.” A muscle bunches in his cheek. “I found out about it by accident and sold the whole company overnight, leaving him with nothing. Then I dedicated five years to obliterating every startup he assembled. I made it my business to decimate him. Over and over again.”
I reel at his words, at the chill in his tone. And more, I reel over the pain it must have caused him to be screwed over by a friend. “What happened?”
“I stopped. That day six months ago, when I saw you for the first time. Ruining him didn’t seem important anymore.” I hear him swallow. “But I’m worried that, uh…level of maliciousness did something to me, baby. Maybe it’s irreversible.”
“No, it’s not, Jack. You were hurt. People lash out when they’re hurt.”
He makes a sound. “They don’t always have billions of dollars with which to do it.”
“That’s true. Then again, they don’t always have billions of dollars to fix it, either.”
His chest expands. After a beat, he pulls me closer, making it hard to breathe, and I get the sense he’s trying to absorb something from me. “Your first surprise is a recording session. In a professional sound booth.” He kisses my temple. “I might have an evil streak a mile wide, but I know what’s inside me for you is…right.”
I’m almost too dumbfounded to hear the second part of what he’s telling me. “Are you…serious? A recording session?” My throat threatens to close up. “Now?”
One side of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smile, his blue eyes hopeful. “Happy?”
In response, I throw my arms around his neck and squeal.
* * *
My two hours in the sound booth is a dream come true.
There is a professional sound engineer who helps explain the equipment and helps position me the appropriate distance from the microphone. I take out my phone and pull up a favorite passage from my most recent five-star book and recite it into the microphone, after which the engineer gives me some advice on my pacing and tone.
“You have a great voice,” she adds. “So easy to get lost in.”
Jack meets my eyes through the glass, his nod of agreement filling me with a fluttering herd of butterflies. The two hours of training seems to speed by, the words coming easier and easier, my voice growing clearer and more confident with every take.
Recording audiobooks has always been a kind of abstract wish. A dream career that would probably never actually come true, but when the two hours is over and the sound engineer gives me the file to take home, it begins to blossom as a possibility. An actual, real possibility. And I’m so happy, I can’t stop kissing Jack in the elevator back down to the lobby.
Jack’s hands tunnel through my hair, completely ruining my bun and leaving my long hair loose around my shoulders, while his hips pin mine to the wall of the elevator, our mouths mating in a wet, frenzied dance, my hands twisting in the front of his shirt.
Obviously spoiling me is very effective, because I’m ready to go home. I’m ready to go home and let him come inside me again. I want to give him pleasure after the best morning of my life. And it’s not only the generosity, it’s the thought behind it. Doesn’t he realize how much he’s proven about his character by gifting me something that proves he pays attention? Proves that he cares about this dream of mine and wants to help me believe in it?
Jack rocks against me, groaning into the crook of my neck. “Fuck. Do you know how hot it made me, listening to you read that love scene? Hearing that innocent voice of yours saying the word cock?” His teeth rake me, tugging on the lobe of my ear. “Say it now.”
My head falls back against the wall, moaning as his tongue traces my pulse. “Cock.”
Wickedness curls his upper lip “You want mine?”
“Yes.”
He mauls my mouth long and hard, kissing me with such intensity, I cry out when he abruptly pulls away, attempting to drag him back by the lapels of his jacket. Then I realize the elevator is open on the lobby floor and several people are staring at the spectacle we make.
“We have one more surprise,” Jack rasps, peeling me off the wall of the elevator and hustling me through the lobby. “Then it’ll take an act of God to pry me off of you.”
The next stop is a clothing boutique.
Although, it’s like no shopping experience I’ve ever had. Or even knew existed.
Jack and I are met at the ornate entrance by a sleek blonde woman in her forties who carries a clipboard. With an official air, she leads us to through the shop and I’m immediately made breathless by the gorgeous creations hanging from the racks. Evening gowns, party dresses, lingerie, shoes. To call the merchandise luxury would be an understatement. There is only one other customer in the store, an actress I recognize from a recent period film. I try not to stare at her. Or the teacup poodle she’s clutching under her arm—and I fail, nearly bumping into a mannequin before Jack smoothly helps me avoid it.
We’re brought to a dressing room that is roughly the size of a studio apartment. There are two chaise lounges, mirrors taking up every wall, striped velvet wallpaper and the requisite chandelier. The light is low, creating a mood that is nothing like the awkward, overly lit dressing rooms of my experience. This space has an almost moody ambiance. Sensuous.
I assume Jack is going to wait outside, so I do a double-take when he follows me and Clipboard Lady inside, removing his jacket like he’s in his own living room and tossing it casually onto one of the lounge chairs.
“Now,” says the woman, tapping her pen. “Miss Whitaker. I can judge your sizes for myself, but if you could give me an idea of the wardrobe pieces you require, I can get started pulling options.”
“I-I mean…” My laugh is slightly high-pitched. “I don’t require anything—”
“She requires everything,” Jack interrupts in a gruff tone, coming up behind me. His breath stirs my hair against my shoulder and I shiver hotly, sucking in a quiet breath when he wraps an arm low around my hips and draws me back against his front. “Dresses and skirts. Several pairs of shoes. Panties.” His palm drags up my ribcage to pinch my nipples through my top, turning them to straining peaks. “Bras, but I’ll need to be able to see through them.”
“Yes, sir,” replies the woman, making notations on her clipboard, though I can see her glancing at us occasionally beneath her lashes, professional but curious. “We can make adjustments as we go. But are there any other notes to begin?”
“Yes.” Jacks turns us to the side, a mere three feet from the sales lady, and wraps my hair tightly in his fist. My loins coil in response, desire a prison that I can’t escape. Jack has me in a spell that I don’t want to break, no matter how wrong or scandalous. He somehow makes it all right. Makes me feel safe, even as he unravels me, exposes me, revealing this core need to be…petted. Doted on. Observed.
I’m his doll, here to be dressed up to his taste and everyone is going to know it, whisper about us. And being objectified in this manner would be less acceptable to me if he hadn’t just watched me in the sound booth for two hours with his heart in his eyes. He’s bad, but he’s so good at it. Because he’s looked inside me and learned all the right tweaks that correspond to my heart—and this darker, more illicit facet of my personality, too.
“Yes, I have another note.” My hair is wound tight around his hand and he uses that hold to bend me forward slightly, curving my bottom firmly to his lap. “I need to be able to get inside of her fast.” His free hand flips up the hem of my dress, leaving the loose material draped over my waist, my tight, white panties on display. “That means short skirts.” He works my panties down over th
e curve of my backside, cool air kissing the hot skin. And he fondles it roughly, giving me a little slap. “Underwear I can get off fast when I need to fuck her.”
My knees are shaking, my vision distorted under the onslaught of lust. I’m being raked down the middle by sharp claws of need so vicious, breath is clattering in and out of my lungs. The way he speaks about me, like I’m a toy to be used at his convenience, is making me so wet, I worry the evidence is going to streak down my inner thighs at any moment.
“We, um…” The sales lady has to clear her throat. “We have panties, sir, with an…opening in the crotch. They come in a variety of colors. Would you like to see some of those? You wouldn’t have to, um…pull anything down.”
“Just my zipper,” he mutters, twisting my hair tighter in his grip. “Yes. Bring lingerie, too. We’ll require a wide selection, please. See-through only. Daddy likes to see that pussy.”
I almost hit the plushy carpeted floor.
My skin is on fire, toes curled, muscles aching from the strain of need.
“Yes, sir,” chokes the woman. “Right away.”
The sales lady exits through the curtains and as soon as she’s gone, I make a wild sobbing sound, my hands groping for the walls. “Jack. I can’t…I can’t…”
“Yes, you can, little girl.” He spanks me with a firm hand. “You love it. You need it.”
“I can’t t-try on clothes like this.”
Jack walks me forward until I’m caught between him and the mirrored wall, my staccato breaths obscuring my reflection. I’ve been so overwhelmed by what he’s doing to me in front of the sales lady that I haven’t stopped to consider how it’s affecting him. But I can see his eyes now in the mirror, over the top of my head. Can see the blue smoke and heavy lids, the tension around his mouth. “Don’t worry. If you can’t try the clothes on, Maisy,” he says, pushing my skirt down to the floor, “I’ll put them on you myself.”