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The air whooshed out of her and heat flooded her face. Oh. Right. Of course.
She stood, her chair scraping hard against the floor, and drained the rest of her wine. Sitting alone at a table with one chair in the middle of a party was just a little too high on the pathetic scale, even for her. She left her empty wineglass and looked for a wall she could decorate with her presence.
She found a contender, one where the lighting was low and she could blend into the background. She started the excuse-me-pardon-me dance across the room. But as she made her way through the crowd, her phone buzzed. She grabbed it from the outside pocket of her purse, thankful to have something to make her look busy and not like she was escaping.
Dmitry: I’ve been thinking about you all day.
They were just little black letters on a screen, but God, did it unknot something inside her. Warm, sweet relief filtered through her. She typed back as she walked.
Lenore: Same here. Long, long day.
Dmitry: Plans tonight? Your dance card looks crowded.
She smiled. In Hayven, she never had a shortage of offers, especially since others knew she was now actively playing with the mysterious Dmitry. But she rarely watched anyone else’s scenes anymore. Since that first night with Dmitry, she’d developed a bit of an addiction for the man. He’d gone easy on her the first time, had led her through a scene where he told her exactly how to touch herself and for how long. He’d teased her for an hour before letting her come. It’d been simple. But it’d been one of the best orgasms of her life. And it’d made her forget all about being alone on Valentine’s Day.
After that, the boundaries had nudged farther out. He’d sometimes give her instructions. They’d be waiting for her on her phone when she woke up in the morning. No panties today.No touching yourself until you talk to me again. Somehow he could set her off balance with the simplest commands. There was something about having a secret that only the two of them shared that was intensely sexual. So even when she was alone during the day, she knew he was out there, pulling those invisible strings, maybe thinking about her like she was thinking of him. There was an odd sort of comfort in that. An intimate connection without the angst. Someone waiting for her to get home even though he wasn’t there physically. In a short few months, Dmitry had become a touchstone for her in her day.
Not that he still didn’t intimidate the hell out of her sometimes. Her instincts about him being dangerous still flared up. When he went into full dom mode, he was formidable as hell. But in the conversations in between, she’d found him to be smart and interesting and funny. They could play the game and push limits. But they could also have a normal conversation outside of the game. They’d become . . . friends.
And he used full English instead of text speak, which was odd and surprisingly refreshing. No FWB Kevin anymore.
Lenore: You’re the only one I want on my dance card. But I’m trapped at a boring work thing right now. Short of a zombie invasion, I’m stuck for a while. Will be home later, though.
Dmitry: Boring work thing? Since when is international espionage boring?
She laughed as she squeezed through a group of people and then coughed over it when she realized how loud the laugh had come out.
Lenore: That’s your guess? International spy? That’s what I had YOU pegged for. Well, after I ruled out Batman.
It was a game they played, guessing each other’s job. They knew neither would ever tell the truth. The beauty of the thing was in the anonymity. They didn’t want to know. Neither wanted the illusion shattered.
Dmitry: You got me. I’m currently hiding in the coat closet of a drug kingpin, gathering intel. *Types quietly*
She could almost picture that. She had no idea what Dmitry looked like in person, but his game persona would be fit for a spy.
Lenore: *looks at closet* Shit. You found me! Sorry that I have to kill you now. It’s been fun. *bang*
Dmitry: *catches the bullet between his teeth and spits it out*
Lenore: Oh no! You ARE Batman.
Dmitry: *captures you, strips you naked, and ties you to the bed*
Her stomach dipped, the scene turning vivid in her head. This was how things went with Dmitry. Their conversations could go from playful to hot in a few short exchanges. She reached the wall she’d been planning to park herself against. If she stayed there, she’d have a nice view through the picture windows that lined the left side of the room. She could make the excuse that she wasn’t avoiding the party but was enjoying the moonlit rows of grapevines and admiring the looming, cedar-and-stone building in the distance, presumably Grant Waters’s massive ranch home. But her face felt warm, and she was afraid that if Dmitry continued down this texting path, it would show all over her expression.
So instead of stopping, she slipped into a darkened hallway off the main room. The noise of the party softened instantly. Two doors labeled Storage were on the left, but no was around and nothing looked to be in active use. The quiet was more than a little welcome, and she let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.
She glanced down at her phone.
Dmitry: *spends all night touching you and not letting you come*
She licked her lips, her temperature kicking up a few notches more, the words and the wine blending together in her blood. She should probably go back to the party, tell Dmitry she’d talk to him later. She’d made a promise to Grace and was supposed to be mingling. Instead, she moved deeper into the dark and stepped between two stacks of plastic storage crates. Only the dim blue light of her phone screen filled the space.
Lenore: *struggles but secretly likes having your hands on me*
Dmitry: You like the idea of being captured?
The question wound through her like sweet temptation. Never before would she have considered that a desirable scenario. She’d spent half her life being scared someone would grab her. Her mother and the cases she’d worked had put that fear in Cora. It was a legitimate fear. But playing that kind of game with someone she could trust? Facing that nightmare scenario and twisting it into something sexy? She’d never be able to trust someone that implicitly, but virtually, she could go there in her head.
Lenore: Only if you’re the captor.
Dmitry: Mmm. I’d like to watch you struggle for my touch. I’d make you ride your edge until you beg. I bet you’re beautiful when you beg. I know you sound sexy when you do it.
Goose bumps chased over her skin. Since she couldn’t picture the real man, she pictured the version of him from the game. She imagined him knotting the ropes around her wrists and ankles, touching her everywhere, searching fingers and hot skin, making her want all the things he could give her.
Dmitry: Are you struggling now, L? Are you getting wet at this boring work thing?
She shifted in her shoes. Her blood was pumping, the place between her thighs growing warm. The dark felt like a cloak around her. Safe. Secret.
Lenore: Yes. It’s not feeling so boring now.
Dmitry: Where are you? Meeting? Your desk?
Lenore: At an event, stepped into a hallway.
Dmitry: Are you wearing a skirt?
She frowned. Never. She’d never felt comfortable in the things, despite her mother’s repeated attempts to get her to wear them. She glanced down at her pinstripe dress pants and white silk tank top. Grace had given her a thumbs-up on the outfit, but Cora doubted Lenore would wear such a thing.
Lenore: Dress
Dmitry: Perfect. Part your knees. Pretend I’m there with you running my hand up your thigh.
Despite the fact that she wasn’t really wearing a dress, she stepped a little wider, imagining his hand gliding up her legs and along her overheated skin, causing her to shiver. Her nipples became obvious points beneath her shirt.
Dmitry: Did you do it?
Lenore: Yes.
Dmitry: Picture my fingers beneath your dress, trailing up your thigh, pulling your panties to the side. Can you feel them, teasing you, not quite giving you what you want yet?
Sensation traced over her skin and she tilted her head back against the wall. God, she longed for that feeling, wished she could will him into existence right in front of her.
Lenore: Yes.
Dmitry: Tell me what you need.
Lenore: You. Your touch.
Dmitry: I bet you do. You’ve been good for me, so I won’t make you wait. I can feel how slippery you are against my fingertips. I slide my finger lower and push inside.
Cora shuddered, her breath quickening.
Dmitry: You’re so wet for me, L, and I can feel you tighten around me. You need this so badly. You want to beg for more, but you have to be quiet. No one would know what I was doing to you. The event would just go on around you. You’d wear a nice polite smile while I fucked you with my fingers and made you come all over my hand.
A gasp slipped past her lips as her inner muscles clenched hard. She was steps away from a crowded party, but she could almost feel his hand on her, thick fingertips finding her sex and pushing inside her. She closed her eyes and pressed her thighs together, trying to put pressure where she needed it most. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her nipples turned sensitive against her bra. She wanted to touch, to get relief. Her fingers curled against her thigh. Maybe she could just press the heel of her hand . . .
“So I think it’s time for our very important business meeting.”
Cora’s eyes popped open, and her breath caught at the sound of the unfamiliar male voice. She automatically clutched her phone to her chest, blocking the light.
A woman laughed. “Oh, is that what you’re calling it?”
Two shadowed forms came into view and passed by Cora as they headed toward the back of the hallway. The fine hairs that had escaped the twist in Cora’s hair fluttered against her face as the couple kicked up a breeze in their wake, but neither noticed her. She was just another shadow.
Cora squinted. There was enough light that she could make out the height of the man, the petiteness of the woman, but not much else. They were walking close together, obviously sneaking away for something and in a hurry. Cora glanced toward the entrance and the rectangle of light that led back to the party. She needed to bail.
“Keep it up with the laughing,” the man said, his voice low but ringing with authority. “See how long it takes me to shut you up.”
Cora stiffened and her attention swung back to the couple.
But the woman made a sound like she’d just taken a bite of the best chocolate. “Look forward to it, sir.”
Sir. The word rang through Cora. Reverberated. Sir. It meant a very specific thing to Cora. But this couldn’t be that. Her mind was just stuck on Dmitry and the game. This was probably some assistant and her boss sneaking off to make out. She needed to leave, make it known that they weren’t alone. Hello, innocent bystander here! I was just leaving. Don’t mind me!
And she was all prepared to do that until she heard the sound of a zipper and shift of fabric. She turned her head automatically toward the noise, the harsh unzipping like a beacon.
The woman’s breaths were sharp in the darkness—quick, anticipatory. Sexual.
Cora tried to pull her attention from them, tried to make her feet work.
Look away, Cora. Look away!
The man’s voice sliced through the silence like a bullet. “Suck it.”
Cora froze.
And she didn’t look away.
TWO (#u7ebd0ce8-11e2-5305-ae8a-877ef3c9c5a4)
“Suck it.”
The two utterly male words filled the dark space and hit Cora like a knee to the gut, stealing her air. The command wasn’t directed at her, but, God, she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard anything hotter. Suck it. It should’ve sounded stupid. Juvenile. It so didn’t. Her free hand pressed flat against the wall, and she tried to stop breathing altogether.
There was a rustle of movement—the woman getting to her knees, no doubt, and the man showing her what to suck.
Cora decided then and there that she was a bad, bad person because goddamn, she couldn’t make herself leave now. She couldn’t look away. It was the Hayven game manifesting in real life, and she had a front row ticket.
She blinked a few times, trying to focus her vision. Now that she hadn’t looked at her phone for a minute, her eyes were adjusting to the inky darkness. The couple was a few yards away from where Cora had tucked herself between the stacks of plastic crates. She wouldn’t be completely hidden from their view if they looked her way hard enough, but both seemed too involved to bother. The woman was on her knees and had her back to Cora, a long curling ponytail snaking down her spine, and the man had his head down, his focus on what was about to happen. The moment before impact. The moment before pleasure.
Cora held her breath. The whole room seemed to hold its breath. Like air had ceased to move. A still, heavy quiet.
Then, her phone vibrated against her chest, nearly causing her to yelp and give herself away. She cringed and pressed the phone harder against her shirt to make sure no light peeked out before she could hit the button to darken it. Her gaze stayed fixed on the view in front of her, her heart pounding in her ears. Thankfully, her companions didn’t notice anything was amiss. They were too wrapped up in the moment.
The man dragged his palm along the side of the woman’s head and then wound her ponytail around his fist. Once. Twice. Deliberate. Menacing.
Sexy as shit.
Cora couldn’t see the man’s open fly, but his rough grip on the woman’s hair had Cora’s scalp tingling, imagining what that must feel like.
“Open wider,” he commanded. “You’ve been begging for this for how long? Now you’re going to take it all. Hands behind your back.”
The woman moaned and leaned forward, taking him into her mouth and linking her hands together behind her back like some sort of reverse prayer. Her head bobbed as she went to work on him—slow and sensual, taking her time like she was savoring every moment. A hypnotic pace. One Cora was sure she’d never used with a guy.
But as compelling as that view was, Cora found her gaze tracking upward, seeking out the one running this show. The one called sir. The man was tall, broad-shouldered—black hair, maybe. She couldn’t make out much else. But there was an air of authority about him, this cool composure, like he was somehow doing a favor for this woman even though he was the one getting head. Like he was almost . . . bored.
Cora couldn’t move. She barely breathed. She’d given blow jobs before. But she’d never gotten much pleasure from it. It’d always been a favor in hopes that the guy would return the effort. But it felt like she was witnessing something altogether different here, something much more intense, something that might actually turn her on. A challenge. Suck me and see if you can break me. What would make a man like that lose his cool?
Her gaze fell on the hard grip of his hand, watched the knuckles flex with the force of how hard yet controlled he was fucking the woman’s mouth now. In. Out. Deep. Steady. Yes. Like that. She could imagine his thoughts. His inner commands. Suck it like you love it. Take my cock and swallow every inch.
It was something she could imagine Dmitry saying. A rush of warmth settled between Cora’s thighs, turning her panties from damp to embarrassing. She was throbbing there. This shouldn’t flip her switches. She shouldn’t be watching. But seeing one of the scenes from her game played out in real life was damn riveting. She’d never witnessed real life dominance. Hell, she hadn’t known it existed until a few years ago when she’d been interning at the station and had stumbled upon some kinky videos on a suspect’s computer. The guy had turned out to be innocent of anything, but her curiosity had been piqued.
She’d watched her fair share of naughty videos since then, but porn had never pulled it off for her. And the one time she’d considered bringing up the idea of kink to Kevin, she’d chickened out. She hadn’t been able to imagine being that vulnerable with him. There was naked and then there was naked. And she would’ve been mortified if he’d laughed at the suggestion or teased her about it. So, she’d turned to Hayven to explore on her own in a low-risk way.
But as much fun as she had with Dmitry, virtual couldn’t mimic this. This was different. Raw. Dangerous. The woman had to be scared they’d get caught, but she was going to obey. What did that level of edge bring to the sex? Cora imagined it brought a lot, based on how she was feeling just from watching. And even though there was no kinky equipment or elaborate setup, some part of her knew without a doubt what she was witnessing. This man was a dominant. This was a scene.
“This is the only time you’re going to get this cock,” the man said, gravel in his voice. “Better make it count.”
The woman moved faster. Wet, hungry noises drifted from the darkened corner, making it sound like she was the one about to come even though he only had a hand in her hair.
Lord, to be so openly sexual and unashamed about it. Most people would probably judge this woman. She was being used, treated like a whore. But Cora could feel it, the mutual pleasure of this. This was a woman who was getting exactly what she craved and loving it. An unexpected wisp of jealousy wound through Cora.
“You’re going to drink down everything I have,” the man said. “And then you’re going to go out there and kiss your boyfriend on the mouth. I wonder if he’ll be able to taste what a filthy girl you are.”
Cora’s belly dipped. Fuck. The woman’s boyfriend was at the party?
Cora should be appalled.
She couldn’t stop watching.
Her phone vibrated again. She held it tight, but this time, it grazed her silver necklace, making the faintest of noises.
Oh, shit. No. No! She shifted it quickly, silencing it completely, but when she glanced up, the man’s head had lifted.
He was staring her way, his gaze narrowing and then locking on her as his vision probably adjusted. Click. His face was half in shadow but she could see enough. Dark hair, angled jaw, full mouth, Asian. Gorgeous.
She was frozen in the headlights of that look. An apology hovered on her lips. Her feet were ready to run. But he had her pinned. He may as well have had a hand pressed to her chest, forcing her to stay there against the wall.
