You, Me, and the Stalker

by Elle Luckett

  “What movie,” he promoted gently.

  “Uh. The one with James Spader?”

  Mark barked out a quiet laugh and looked down at Perla. “Have you seen The Secretary? Perla?”

  “No, Sir,”

  “I think you'd enjoy that one, pet.”

  “Perhaps Sir would be kind enough to watch with me.” She rubbed her cheek against the crotch of his pants, and I could see the outline of his erection.

  I wondered if being well endowed was a prerequisite for this kind of lifestyle because, for the second time today, I was very pleasantly surprised. Perla's pretty honey eyes flickered open and found mine as her mouth pressed against the rigid line of his excitement, and her lust shined back at me.

  “Sir?” Perla asked with an unpronounced weariness that Mark didn't miss. “Would it please you to have your friend watch?”

  I opened my mouth to respond before my eyes flickered between the two of them in uncertainty. Mark was already glancing down at the woman. His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back as he leaned over her. His face so close, she was swallowing the air he released.

  “Tonight is about you. You know full well how I work, pet. Now tell me why you would ask a question like that.”

  “Sir, you enjoy her company, and I enjoy her eyes on me.”

  “I always do admire you exhibitionists.” Mark pressed his mouth against hers in a passionate kiss that instantly made Perla moan. His tongue eased into her mouth—something she reciprocated with enthusiasm.

  I was lost.

  No.

  That wasn't true.

  My thoughts were lost, yes, but my instinct to run was gone. I was turned on by this whole charade, unable to put an answer as to why.

  Chapter Five

  I still hadn't moved when the kiss between them broke. Both Mark and Perla turned their heated gazes to me, waiting for an answer I wasn't sure I was going to deny. Mark's gray eyes were a steel color as he wordlessly demanded my response, while his companion pleaded with me, mouthing the word out of sight of the man still fisting her hair.

  I wanted to say no.

  I should have said no.

  I needed to walk away.

  Yet, when I opened my mouth to deny them both, the word no was nowhere to be found. I chose to nod instead.

  Mark's eyes widened in pleasure as he rose to his full height and released his grip on Perla's hair, slowly running his fingers through the strands, subtly pleasuring her while he studied me.

  I'd fucking said yes.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  I'd never done anything like this in my life. When my ex, Elijah, had forced me to watch porn with him, I'd squirmed and tried my best to tune it out. I didn't think I was a prude. I enjoyed watching it on my own, but the thought of watching two very real people do…

  What did they even do?

  It was a BDSM club.

  Then inspiration hit.

  “Do we need a form for that?” I asked, still keeping my toes on the corridor side of the threshold. I could feel that need to bolt rising in me. If he said yes, I could leave and not return. Cowardly, but sane.

  Mark smiled brightly and lifted one of Perla's hands that had several colored bands adorning her wrist.

  “No need,” he fingered one of the pastel-colored bands gently with his index finger. “This band tells us Perla is an exhibitionist and is always open to an audience.” He plucked at another. “This one says she doesn't accept humiliation during play. Would you like me to explain all of them to you?”

  The gentle smile of encouragement on Perla's lips said she was happy to wait while he did.

  What world was this?

  Fuck!

  “Right. No need, thank you, though.” I hated the way my voice trembled, and the way Mark looked at me said he'd heard it, too.

  “You can say no, sweetheart. There's no shame in changing your mind.”

  “I just… I don't know if… I mean to say…”

  “You've never done this before?” Perla whispered, her eyes suddenly wide with understanding. “I'm so sorry. I thought you were a member of the club—most employees are—so, I assumed…” She trailed off when Mark gave her a rewarding smile.

  Vulnerability hit me like a gut punch, the taste of it similar to humiliation—a feeling I knew well, and a feeling that had come from people pitying me when they saw bruises on my face or the way I walked with a fractured rib. Neither Perla nor Mark were pitying me, but my anxiety didn't give a shit about that. Pride had me stepping inside the room with my chin up, while the sensible part of my brain screamed at my stupidity.

  I was curious about all of this—I'd be stupid not to be—but this was not the way to appease that inquisitive part of my mind. Wasn't this what the Internet was for? Sitting in the comfort of your home to watch people being bound to things that looked like the equipment gymnasts vaulted over, while being spanked until they couldn't sit for a week?

  I squirmed and felt the wetness of arousal between my thighs.

  I guess that answered that question.

  “Perla, would you please kneel next to the spanking bench for me? I promise I will be right with you.”

  “Please, take your time, Sir. I asked her to stay.”

  He nodded, then turned his back on her, his face hard as he stared at me. His scrutiny had my eyes dropping to the floor. I understood what that meant, but I honestly had never known that I'd had that kind of response in me.

  “Tonight is not the night,” Mark said quietly. Gripping my elbow, he glanced at Perla and led me out of the room. He pushed me against the opposite wall in a gentle but firm move, wrapping his large hands around my wrists. Raising them over my head, he said one word:

  “Breathe.”

  I did, and having my arms raised over my head made it easier than it had in the past. Humiliation brought tears to my eyes, but I blinked them back, turning my head to the side so Mark couldn't see.

  “Don't hide from me.” Placing both of my wrists in one of his hands, he tipped my face back. He didn't say much more for a while, just breathed slowly and deeply, forcing me to match his pace, calm enough that I could breathe on my own.

  “I'm… so sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. We sprang that on you, and I should have known better.”

  “I wanted—”

  “I'm not disputing that.” Mark glanced over his shoulder to the room and back at me. “Are you at work tomorrow?”

  I nodded.

  “Would you allow me to take you to lunch?”

  I nodded again, still unable to find words—any words.

  “I have to get back to Perla, but I will see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Though I doubted I would actually see him. Once the realization settled in and the mortification infused its way into my psyche, I'd probably find a new job halfway across the country.

  Mark's gray eyes moved between mine, searching for what felt like hours before he finally released his hold on me and slowly backed away. I probably imagined his hesitance because he turned and stepped into the room with a deep breath and purred out Perla's name as he closed the door behind him.

  My hands slid down the wall and fell to my sides as I stared at the door, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure the hall monitor walking toward me could hear it. I tried to unfreeze myself and managed a smile at the woman before I pushed away from the wall and headed to the narrow corridor that promised some semblance of solitude.

  Thomas was gone by the time I got to the office, and so had any trace of the minor panic attack I'd suffered. Lane glanced up at me as I re-entered the room, but the only comment she offered was that I looked tired, for which she apologized profusely and promised wine when we got home. If my sister noticed my silence on the way home, she didn't comment, and it wasn't until we were safely back in the apartment that she finally relaxed. This time, after letting down her hair and kicking off her heels, she unhooked her bra and wrestled it out from under
her fancy shirt with a groan of appreciation before pouring us more of the wine we'd opened, and then headed to her couch.

  “You want to talk about what happened?” she asked before taking a deep pull from her glass.

  “With Thomas? Haven't we been over that?”

  Lane huffed out a breath and gave me a look she'd perfected when we were teenagers. “Zara, I know we haven't been close for a few years, but you can't hide anything from me. You came back to that office looking like you'd just seen a ghost.”

  “No. Not a ghost. I was just invited to view a couple playing.” I would have handled the ghost better.

  Lane's mouth fell open, a hint of humor creeping into her eyes.

  “And I agreed.” That addition stole the crease of amusement. Her eyes widened, making her look like Edvard Munch's The Scream painting.

  “And then,” I said, holding up a finger before she spoke. “I had a panic attack.”

  “Oh, Zee. You were only gone thirty minutes. How the hell did you manage to get yourself into that kind of position?”

  “Quite easily.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Mark and Perla.” I picked up my glass and followed her into the living room before dropping down next to her. Resting my head on her shoulder, I took another sip of wine. “Perla was the one who invited me.”

  Patting my leg, Lane pressed her cheek to the top of my head. “Our Perla likes an audience, but she must have seen something in you that made her ask.”

  “She said that Mark enjoyed my company, and something about it pleasing her to please him.”

  Lane was quiet. Too quiet.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  “No, really. It's just unusual. Mark's known in the club for being focused on his playmate for the evening. It's why the submissives enjoy him so much. Even just for one night, he makes them feel like the only thing worth looking at—like they're the only other person in his little world. Chloe told me it was intoxicating.”

  “You sure know a lot for not being a part of the lifestyle.”

  “I make it my business to know what's going on. The girls like to talk to me.” She paused and thought quietly before giving a huff of amusement. “And Kammie is friends with everyone. She works at the bar when Tristan is out of town. She prefers to be around people.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Mark must find you as interesting as Mistress Kayla does.”

  “Shut up.”

  “She asked Thomas about you.”

  “Stop it.”

  Lane chuckled. “You're so predictable.” I took offense at that. “Don't be offended. I'm just teasing you.”

  “Bitch.”

  Lane giggled into her wine glass then drank some as the moment passed.

  I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed being around my sister like this. How nice it was to have someone who knew you well enough to talk to about the things you didn't understand yourself. She had a perspective on me I often overlooked. Maybe the same way I thought I knew her better than she knew herself.

  I'd missed her more than I could tell her.

  We spoke for hours and made our way through the entire bottle of wine before we fell into a companionable silence. When she glanced down at her phone for the twentieth time, I gave up on any pretense.

  “Just go see him.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Go and see your man. I’ll be fine here by myself.”

  “You've been here one night. I'm not a fiend.”

  “No, but you've had some wine, and you're feeling all buzzy and cuddly. You want to get naked—”

  “Please don't finish that sentence.”

  “Did you purchase a prude package on your thirtieth birthday?”

  “Hey!”

  “Go,” I insisted. “Get laid. Have fun.”

  Lane picked up her phone and unlocked it, typing in a quick message before she dropped it to her belly. “He's probably asl—” Her phone pinged. Lane looked at the screen, blushed, and turned happy eyes on me. “He's awake.”

  “Go,” I repeated with force. “I'm going to open another bottle of wine and watch a movie.”

  “You sure?”

  I pointed at the door and watched her bounce to her feet with a flourish. She went to her room first before reappearing with a small overnight bag. No wonder she had so many clothes at the office.

  I waved her off and fulfilled my destiny for the evening of opening another bottle of wine and grabbing some cookies from the pantry. I pulled up the first movie I found and buried myself in the stack of decorative cushions with the faux fur blanket draped over my waist.

  I tried not to think about the humiliating experience and Mark. I tried to keep my focus on the very sexy Dwayne Johnson and Jason Statham on the screen, but it was hopeless. Even mindless action couldn't distract me from that dread in the pit of my stomach when I thought about seeing Mark again.

  During one of the more intense action scenes, I almost missed the quiet knock on the door. Even when I heard it the second time, I virtually ignored it. This wasn't my house. I was in a strange city, and it was past midnight.

  The knock came again. My stomach flipped as my mind moved to the one thing I'd been running from.

  It couldn't be Elijah.

  I tiptoed to the door, listening past the screeching tires and explosions, jumping when there was another knock. Peeking through the peephole, I released a long breath and reached to open it without much thought beyond scolding my visitor.

  “You scared me to death.”

  Mark smiled cautiously and raised a brow. It took me a moment to realize he was waiting for an invitation.

  “I guess you want to come in?”

  “I hear an action film.”

  I rolled my eyes and stepped aside, allowing him in—only remembering why I should be embarrassed when he dropped into my nest of cushions on the couch and folded his arms over his chest with a stubborn finality.

  Apparently, he was staying...

  Pain in the ass alpha males.

  Chapter Six

  Mark didn't say a thing to me even when the movie's credits started to roll. Like he owned the place, he picked up the remote, aimed it at the television, and everything faded to black. Without the distraction of the men on screen, I was suddenly hyper-aware of how close we were sitting. I couldn't move from my spot in the cushions without it being obvious, so I stayed where I was, suddenly conscious that I was breathing him in.

  Then I remembered where he'd come from, and the panic rose inside of me again.

  My breathing became harsh almost immediately, and as casually as someone would flip a light switch, Mark picked up my hand and placed it over his chest. He didn't look at me, just tipped his chin, and inhaled a long slow breath that he wanted me to mimic.

  I did and, once again, within minutes, my breathing regulated—the rapidly pounding beat of my heart slowing to something that resembled normal.

  “Thank you.”

  “I'm starting to think I'm the one causing them.” Mark growled.

  “I don't do it to offend you!” I pulled my hand away and used the momentum to roll from him.

  The heat of Mark's gaze was on my back as I tried my best to compose myself. I hadn't meant to snap at him, but it was all part and parcel of my stupid attacks. Mainly because I thought I was slowly moving past it only to be slapped back down with another.

  “That's not what's pissing me off.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at him.

  “I'm pissed off because someone has to have buried themselves in your head to make you react that way when you're close to a man.”

  “I—”

  “Don't lie to me.”

  I looked away, leaving my back to him as I drew in a deep breath. It was easier to talk to him when I wasn't looking. I was attracted to Mark, and that felt like the source of my panic at the moment.

  “How much do you know a
bout the lifestyle I lead?” Mark asked quietly.

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek, unwilling to answer. My ignorance felt bitter in my mouth. Since I'd left Elijah—or more to the point, he'd been forced to leave me—I’d done everything in my power to not be that ignorant again. Not about men, abuse, or any other thing that could put me in a position of weakness. Researching abusive relationships had been enlightening. BDSM was mentioned in a paper that cross-referenced spousal abuse and sexual dominants and highlighted the differences between the two. It had also explained why women chose to re-enter those relationships under the pretense of love despite physical and mental abuse. I didn't love Elijah. I hadn't in a long time, and I didn't make excuses for him or me. But that was off-topic.

  “Not much. Just that power and control is something you thrive on.”

  “Almost, but much more layered and complex than that. Our need for control is not expressed in the way you're familiar with.”

  My eyes slid closed in my attempt to block the memories I didn't want; of a past I longed to forget.

  “Yeah? What would you know about that?” I asked petulantly.

  Mark was quiet and still for a moment before he released a long breath. The couch dipped under his weight as he slid closer. “Do you think you could look at me while we talk?”

  “I don't want to talk about this.” I never wanted to talk about it. My past was my past. Some incidents were more recent than others, but that was done and gone, and I wanted to keep it behind me.

  “Does that mean you don't want to have sex ever again?”

  My body twisted so quickly I tipped awkwardly and landed in his lap. There wasn't a trace of humor in his eyes as he studied me, and the way his arms closed around me was entirely too intimate for the conversation we were having.

  “Don't run away,” Mark said gruffly as I tried to escape his grip. “I fucked up earlier and had a commitment I had to fulfill. I don't have anywhere I need to be now, little bird, and I can promise my patience will outlast every stubborn bone in your body. I can sit here all night.”

  “Why is this so important to you?”