His lips brush my neck, hot and wet, making me gasp. Smack! I jump, pressing my cheek into the wall as the circle of pain pulses on my ass where he hit me with the paddle. He soothingly rubs his hand over the spot, melting away the tingle of pain with his warmth.
“That was for making eye contact,” he growls into my ear.
I whimper, fighting back the urge to turn my head and look into his eyes, to kiss his lips. Giving in feels too good. It feels so right that I don’t want it to stop.
His hand slips between my legs, cupping my wet panties. “So fucking wet,” he says, voice full of lust. “You would love to have my fat cock inside you, but you don’t deserve it. Not yet. You’ll have to learn to behave first.”
I hear him walk away and wait, every nerve on my body tingling in expectation. At first I think it’s a tease. I think maybe he’s just dragging this out to make me want it more. It’s working, you beautiful asshole.
There’s a long pause but I’m afraid to look. Then I hear his quick footsteps pass me and the door opens. He leaves the room, closing the door behind him and leaving me trembling, dress hiked up over my hips. I step away from the wall, confused and hurt.
What?
I follow after him, but he’s already at the other end of the hallway, stepping down the stairs when I leave the room. I follow toward the lobby and see him leaving the club without looking back. He just left? Did I do something wrong? I spend the rest of the night sulking around the club in a haze, wondering what I could have done to make him leave.“I’ve never felt like that,” I say to Scarlett as we pack a box full of onsies. This shipment is going to Florida, and it gives me chills to think my business has grown so far already. Those chills are followed by something verging on nausea when I realize how quickly I could crumble beneath the weight of it all if I don’t keep working at Club Crave.
Scarlett whistles appreciatively. “Damn, girl.” She jumps up on a table, nearly loses her balance, and rights herself at the last second. Once she has her balance, she crosses her legs beneath her and perches. Scarlett has a distinctly catlike tendency to want to sit in high, hard to reach places. She even adopts the same smug look of disinterest a cat would wear in her position. “I worked there almost a month before one of the doms so much as touched me. I can’t believe he took an interest in you so quickly.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say.
Scarlett laughs. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying it’s not normal. You should be proud.”
“Except for the part where he rushed out of the room without so much as a word? You’re sure that’s not just some normal BDSM thing?”
“Not that I know of, no. You’re not going to back out of the job, are you?”
“No,” I say. As mortifying as it was, being left by the masked man only made me hungrier. Even talking about it has me wet and throbbing. It has been three days and I still haven’t stopped thinking about him. “I need the money.”
“Right,” says Scarlet, seeing straight through my excuse. “The money. Especially if it’s wrapped around Mr. Masked and Gorgeous’ “fat cock”.”
“Shut up.”
After we finish work for the day I step outside and check my phone. More texts from my mom and now my dad has been texting me too. I’ve been deleting his texts without even reading them, but I catch the preview and see “Please call me. Need to ta--”. I jab the delete button with my finger without opening it. The hurt from what he did is still too raw and fresh. It is reopening all the old pain from the divorce and I can’t deal with it right now. Maybe I won’t ever deal with it. That would probably be more than he deserves.
My mom is still pushing about a cruise for her and Ronnie. I’m tempted to just dig myself that much deeper in loans to give her the money for it and get the stress off my mind. But I ignore her text too, shoving my phone in my purse. I’ve paid her back a hundred times over for raising me. I helped pay the bills and never took anything from her once I was able. Knowing it doesn’t erase the guilt and the need to help her anyway, but it helps.
When I look up from my phone, I gasp.
Logan fucking Steel is sitting on the bench outside my building, feet planted wide and looking gorgeous as sin. I try and fail not to stare as I walk past, suddenly so self-conscious that I nearly forget how to walk like a normal person.