Текст книги "Save Us"
Автор книги: Cynthia Dane
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
“Private?”
“Commercial.”
“Yikes, again.”
I shrug. As long as I fly First Class, commercial airlines don’t bother me all that much. I only spring for private when I really feel like it or are taking people with me. Since this was a solo trip, even sans Anita, I opted for some headphones and my tablet to keep me preoccupied as I went from Berlin to Stockholm and then Stockholm to London.
“What was in Sweden? Ah, let me guess.” His hand detaches from my shoulder and brushes against my hair. “Family?”
“You’re assuming that because I’m pale and blond that I’m Scandinavian.”
“Would I be wrong?”
“Not too far off.” We are, in fact, Swedish on my paternal grandmother’s side. That’s why I first had an interest in Sweden, but not why I went this time. When I was in college I studied abroad for a semester and wanted to see the old sights again. Talk to some friends. See what was going on in that part of the world. “You know what they say about assumptions, Mr. Mathers.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, They make an ass out of you.”
“I’m not sure that’s quite how it goes.”
My foot doesn’t turn fast enough, my heel catching and threatening to take me down. Ian clenches me closer to him, hand pressing against the small of my back. My chest is pressed against his. Some people are staring.
“I missed you,” he whispers in my ear.
Jolts of electricity explode within me, reaching my extremities, filling my loins with desire for him. You think I don’t remember what it’s like to feel him in my grasp, breathing hard, resisting the urge to kiss me. I don’t doubt for a second that he’s sincere. I bet he did miss me, like I missed him.
We love each other, after all.
It breaks my heart. What is so wrong with two people falling in love? Making love? Literally the only thing holding us back is…
“I missed you too.” Reason is losing out to my wants. Now that I feel him against me again, all I can think about is bringing his lips to mine and getting lost in the back of his throat. I haven’t kissed him in over a month. I want his hands on me. I want his lips to kiss every speck of skin on my body. I want… I want…
Damnit, all I want is him!
“Come on.” I step back, taking his hand long enough to give him an idea. “Ten minutes.”
A man like him needs longer than that. A woman like me knows how to have a quickie.
Chapter 18
KATHRYN
There aren’t many places to hide during a ball boasting hundreds of guests, but this is a large hotel. A large hotel with a lot of clean closets and empty conference rooms, like the one we barge into, locking the door behind us.
I barely have time to find the conference table before Ian has me on top of it, his kiss so powerful that I’m melting beneath the weight of his body.
We’re a couple of famished bastards as zippers fall, skirts raise, and more than one hand searches for a forbidden place untouched in over a month. A month probably doesn’t sound like a lot to you. Before, it didn’t sound like a long time to me either. A woman in need of a man’s touch knows how to get by until she can secure it again, but that’s a woman who isn’t in love.
Because I need this man’s specific touch. I need the way Ian knows my body, what I like, what I desire. Only he knows how to touch me in ways I never thought possible before. Only he knows my precarious line between being dominated and taking control.
Like right now, when he thrusts into me, his satisfied grunt telling me how much he wants me, and how much he loves me.
“Katie…” No matter how many times I hear it, or how many times he says it, I still feel renewed every time that name enters my ear. It’s like being welcomed home by the lover you’ve had for decades. With him inside of me at the same time, thrusting enough to get me wetter and then completely take me? Oh my God, I am going to die.
I say his name, desperately, letting him know how much I’ve loved and missed him as well. This is so stupid. This is so dangerous. This is the last thing we should be doing, but I can’t help myself. I need this man in me, on me, whispering his sweet nothings as he fucks me like I need air to breathe. Because what’s the point of breathing if I’m not sharing those breaths with him?
Being away for a month affirmed how much I love him. But I… I…
Tears pool at the corner of my eyes as we fall into a steady rhythm. I love this man. I love him so much that I had to drag him back here after one embrace. The idea of being without him like this again shatters my heart until I don’t even recognize it anymore.
The tears come, however, because no matter how good this feels, I know it won’t last.
“I love you.” The words sound so pathetic coming from me. I’m hiccupping with every moan, Ian’s ability to pin me to this table otherworldly. And yet I’m afraid saying these words. “Don’t leave me, Ian.”
His movements still, hands on my cheeks as he brings my face forward for a kiss. Even though his tongue slips along mine, he still manages to say, “You’re the one who left me, darling.”
I touch him back, clinging to his jacket and holding him fast inside me. I don’t want to let him go. “Come in me.”
Here I am, Kathryn Alison, a big, strong Domme who is sloppily in love with a Dom and pleading to know what it’s like to have him come inside me again. The Kathryn I am now and the Kathryn who went to him that first night seem like completely different people.
When he moves within me again, I forget everything.
I forget everything about him that annoys me. His arrogance, the way he nonchalantly takes control of everything and assumes he can take what he wants, how he wants to submit to me but won’t…
I forget. I force myself to forget, and I naturally forget. My life is nothing but Ian Mathers making love to me and how good it feels.
I want this.
God, do I want this!
“Katie!’ He pushes me down onto the table, spreading my legs open, driving inside me, pinning me, pounding me, pressuring me to meet his great and mighty need for what we’re doing. It’s hard for us to kiss at this angle, but I don’t care. I can look into his eyes in this darkness, at the wild mien bearing down upon me and begging me… begging me… to feel the same way about him that he does me.
I do, Ian. I do feel that way.
For one split second as we climax, I am convinced that nothing else in this world matters.
His hand takes mine on the table. Our breaths are one. My hips surge against him, bringing him into me, body and soul. His groan is strong, yet vulnerable. Like him. Ian doesn’t know it and probably wouldn’t believe it, but he’s a vulnerable man.
A man I love.
Do you know how relieved I feel when he comes inside me? It’s not fear. It’s not even immense pleasure. It’s relief. He’s here. He’s with me. He’s not going anywhere, and he wants me so badly that a moment like this occurs. I can’t believe it. Ian Mathers! In love with me!
Me, in love with him!
I cry.
“No, no, sweetie…” He pulls out almost right away, taking what he gave me with him. I’m a mess. I have other things to worry about. “Don’t cry. What’s wrong?”
Ian’s forehead touches mine. My legs slip off the table and away from his hips. His warmth is all over me, coddling me, but my crying drives a wedge between us.
“I love you.”
“And I love you too…” The tone of his voice says that he doesn’t understand the problem here. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it once and for all.”
He almost sounds hopeful. Like the power of love alone is enough to keep us together beyond this next week, month, however long it takes for me to break again because I’m being kept from who I really am.
“You can’t fix who we are, Ian. You can’t rearrange the cosmos so we’re magically happy with this arrangement for the rest of our lives.”
There I go, talking about forever. As if we’ll get married. As if we’ll be anything more than a Dom and a Domme skirting around the big elephant in the room so we can make it one more month without breaking up. Meanwhile, yours truly won’t know who she is anymore.
The things people – including my acquaintances – will say to me. You may say that they’re not real friends if they don’t support my relationship, but they are important to me. I can’t lose myself like that and lose my friends. Eva would stay by my side, but who else?
“I may not have the power or the money to change the universe, my love, but I do have the power to change what’s happening here.” He presses his forehead against my shoulder. “Yet I can’t change a damn thing if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
My ass slides off the table. I pull down my skirt, although I do not push him away. In fact, I welcome him embracing me and telling me some more about how much he loves me. What woman doesn’t want to hear that after lovemaking?
This woman, I guess.
“You know I love you.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell when you’re not sharing what’s on your mind and instead running off to Europe, Katie.”
He’s caressing my head, letting his fingers run through my hair that has fallen from my immaculate twist. Not so immaculate anymore. Eventually Ian plucks my jewels from my hair and gingerly arranges them on the table. I try not to think about what’s going on between my thighs. It’ll send me back into a spiral of eroticism I can’t afford to deal with.
“This isn’t enough for me.” I’m mumbling, but I’m sure he hears me. “I need things from you that you can’t, or at least won’t, give me.”
His fist hits the conference table we made love on. I can only imagine his frustration. Here he is, a man with countless money, resources, and charm. And he can’t hang on to the only woman he apparently wants.
You say you can change our situation, Ian, but I’m not too sure about that. I wish you could, though.
I wish I could be content with being the only switch.
“I’m not going to ask you to change who you are.” My hand rests on his arm, trying to reassure him, but it’s probably not enough. “You didn’t ask me to change who I was. You saw something inside of me and helped me realize it. For that, I thank you, I guess. Although I’m not sure I could do that with any other man.”
Our eyes meet in the dark.
“It’s not fair, right? We should be able to be together. And yet… how happy could I be, and for how long? What kind of pressure would I put you under? It’s not fair to you or me. It’s not fair to us.”
“So, what?” Ian turns to me. Under usual circumstances, I would laugh at how he’s still hanging out of his trousers, but I only want to hold him. “We break up because of something as stupid as that?”
“It’s not stupid, and you know it.”
Ian embraces me, his scent making me feel better for a single moment. This should be enough. Him, me, our bodies. Even if I never submitted to him again and we pursued a vanilla relationship, I would still crave. Even if we conceded to other lovers in the kink scene, we would get jealous. We’re both people built for monogamy, even when it comes to kink.
Why, God?
“Don’t leave me.” Ian squeezes me. “I don’t want to be without you for another day.”
I gently push myself away. “I’m not leaving. It was foolish of me, though, to succumb to my desires for you so easily. This is going to be hard to say, but I think it’s best if we don’t get as heavy as we were before. I’m not breaking up with you. I’m not saying it’s never going to work, but we need to wait until we’re clearheaded enough to deal with this rationally.”
Haha, we both know that I’m full of shit.
Something pierces my hand as I pick up my jewels. “Love won’t save us,” I mutter.
“Love should always be enough. It works for…”
I look at him, waiting for him to say “poor people.”
“Because sometimes that’s all a person has. We’re not like that. Nobody in our families has been like that for generations. We’re blessed in that regard, but love won’t stop us from having tension we can’t resolve.”
“You keep saying that, but…”
I open the conference room door, watching Ian stuff himself back in his pants before the light hits him. “I’ll see you in a few.”
The door closes, and I walk straight for the nearest restroom. I don’t meet the gaze of anyone I pass. I don’t think of anything. I can’t afford to think of anything. It’s all a matter of fact as I clean myself up in the bathroom and put my hair back up, presenting myself to the ball attendees as nothing more than Kathryn Alison, professional.
Not Kathryn Alison, woman smitten and in love.
Fate. Fuck it.
Chapter 19
IAN
“Don’t look so fucking glum,” my father says, shoving another scotch in my direction. “I need you to be on your best game this month. Besides, I have it worse than you. I don’t know what you’re pouting about, but I win.”
Thanks, Dad.
I’m home, although I’m seriously dreading it now. My father’s office smells and looks the same as it did when I was a kid. Mahogany walls and furniture. Piles of folders, books, and God knows what else that are meticulously organized in their chaos. The only clear spaces outside of the floor are a couple of chairs and the couch I’m sitting in. A never-ending supply of scotch and brandy flows freely.
I can smell Stephanie May’s perfume.
“Women,” I mutter into my glass. “That Kathryn Alison is going to be the death of me.”
That’s all I want to say about that, and my father is so self-absorbed that it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s pacing in front of me, downing glass after glass until he becomes tipsy enough to slouch against his desk.
“This hotel is going to be the death of me.”
“I don’t know why. Everything has gone off without a hitch.” We’ve been open a few days. Outside of some minor hiccups that come with any establishment, it’s merely a matter of following protocol and getting employees settled into their new roles. So far, guests have enjoyed the amenities and the styling we’ve chosen. Reviewers are praising our taste.
We Mathers should be celebrating, not acting like children.
“It’s Crow,” my father finally says. “He’s gone off the map. Nobody can get a hold of him, and we sure as fuck never got the money he promised us.”
I get another drink.
“Fifteen million. That’s how much we need to transfer by the end of next week.” My father chuckles, but there’s nothing reassuring or jovial in the way he acts. He’s about to lose his damned mind. “Don’t suppose you’ve got fifteen million dollars collecting dust somewhere, son.”
“Hardly.” Tale as old as time. I’m loaded, but it’s not like I can go out and extract fifteen mil from my account while not batting an eyelash. Sounds like the situation our friend Henry Warren found himself in a few months ago. Except I don’t have a BDSM auction to offer myself to. “I could spare up to five, perhaps, but I’m still waiting to earn back on my initial investment.” Wanna know how much that was? Go on, guess.
Twenty-five million. Technically, I invested more than my father.
If we hadn’t been in such a hurry to remodel and saved money that way, I could’ve spared fifteen. Maybe even twenty. However, I’m in the hole on this project, even if we’re projected to make it back within a year.
“We have to find some way to get that money.” Squeaks enter the air as my father sinks into his desk chair. While many things haven’t changed in this office over the years, he has gotten older. Graying hair. Wrinkles. A paunch. Money can’t buy a man his youth back. Can’t wait until that’s me. “I’ve talked to your mother already, and I don’t think it’s coming from her. She’s still mad at me.”
“Wonder why.”
“Don’t start. Just remember you get your inability to deal with women from me.”
“Excuse me…”
“It’s a family curse, son.” Papers flutter to the floor as my father kicks his feet up on the desk. “Your grandfather, God rest him, went through three wives and as many long-term mistresses. Not including the ones who turned into wives.”
I’ve heard this story before. Think I’ll close my eyes and take a nap.
“So don’t fret too much if you find yourself unable to keep a woman in bed. These days you don’t even have to marry one. Fuck it, who cares about bloodlines. I’m not attached to ours. Adopt a kid to make sure we have an heir. You can hire a nanny to take care of it. Make sure she’s hot, though. You’ll probably be fucking her.”
I open my eyes and glare at him.
He points at me. “I never fucked your nanny.”
“Only my ex-girlfriends.”
“I’ve explained that to you how many times now?”
“Please don’t marry her.” I don’t need my stepmother to be a woman who gave me a blowjob in public and then heard me call her the wrong name when I came inside her. Nope.
Not to mention, a woman almost ten years younger than me. Although that would be expected around here and knowing both of my parents.
“Caroline isn’t going to give me money,” my father continues. “And neither are any of our other investors. I’ve already talked to Spencer. He’s stretched thin with his other projects and donations. Caught him at the wrong time of year.”
He’s looking at me.
I don’t like his look.
“You need to ask Kathryn.”
I sit up with a start. “Excuse me?”
“Kathryn Alison has a ton of money. I know she already gave us a few mil for The Grand back when we started, but ask her if she can come up with any more.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
We both know why.
“Fine.” I hold up a hand, as if that’s enough to make my father shut up. “I’ll talk to her. Don’t expect anything. I’m not in her best graces.” Don’t ask me what’s going on with Katie. She’s as cryptic as a puzzle to me.
Are we still dating?
Are we still having sex?
I have no fucking clue.
Somehow, I doubt she’s going to give me any money. She’ll barely give me her love at this point, even though she’s overflowing with that as well. All the more reason for me to get to the bottom of this bullshit and find out what the fuck she wants!
I’m never dating a Domme again. Kathryn Alison, you’re it.
Chapter 20
KATHRYN
The doorman says a hot young blonde is traipsing around the lobby of my building, practically demanding that she be sent up. You see, at the moment I’m not allowing anyone up without buzzing first. And buzzing means going through the doorman.
Even Eva. Even my own father. Even Anita. I don’t want any surprises. I need to know that my home is an actual haven and that I don’t have to worry about the likes of Ian Mathers coming up to my door to “talk” when I’m not ready. Right now it’s all I can take working with him, smiling at him, chatting with him on the phone and making all sorts of eyes at him from across the room.
So Stephanie May is finding it awfully difficult to get up into my apartment where she can harass and demand money out of me.
“I don’t want to talk to her,” I tell the doorman over the phone. “Please tell Miss May that I know what she’s here for and it will be taken care of in due course.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will send her on her way. She may leave a message, however.”
“That’s fine.” I’m under no obligation to actually listen to her message. Not like she has anything good to say, anyway.
I’m left in peace for a few more minutes. I make some tea, pet the cat, and look at my calendar, wondering what I’m going to be doing two weeks from now, when my contract with the Mathers ends until it’s time to get back to work on that museum.
One nice thing about being filthy rich is that I don’t have to work. I don’t worry about my next paycheck. I don’t have to apply to jobs. It’s nice not having to worry about that like some of my acquaintances do. I’m good with my money. So even if I don’t work for a few months and fuck off to Brazil, Singapore, wherever, it doesn’t matter. Everything is taken care of.
Except I can’t live like that. I have to be busy… productively busy. I’m not artistic, so I don’t devote my life to painting, writing, etc. I don’t have kids so I’m not preoccupied with raising them right and making sure they’re educated. No, I’m the type who actually wants to work so she feels like she’s doing something with a greater purpose.
I just have no idea what that’s going to be.
I’m sure I could find some pet project to tie me over until it’s back to work on The Grand museum. A school. Another library. Maybe a homeless shelter. Somebody out there needs me to help them set up grants.
Besides, I need to stay busy. The busier I am, the less I think of Ian.
My phone rings. It’s the doorman.
“Ms. Alison, there is a woman here to see you.”
Fucking fuck fuck. “I told you, I have no need to see Miss May. Take a message and send her on her way.”
“It’s not Miss May. It’s a Ms. Grant-Mathers.”
Well, fuck me.
“Send her up.”
Within five minutes Caroline is at my door, barreling me over as she sashays into my living room and coos at Sinéad playing with a piece of string on the floor. “What a precious little nugget,” she says. “Can’t wait to call this one my grandbaby too.”
“Er…”
Caroline looks at me with the fakest smile in the universe. “I saw you and Ian dancing at the ball. Very nice. Although I hardly doubt you two have sorted out your… differences.”
That’s why the smile is fake. She’s not here to hug me and welcome me back into the family. She’s here to play the role my mother refuses to fill.
Great.
Should’ve left her down in the lobby.
“Call it a moment of weakness,” I say, bringing some tea to her. “A very big moment of weakness. Your son is irresistible.”
“Trust me, I know. I raised the little bastard. He was charming his nanny and me into letting him get away with shit for years.” Caroline sips her tea before putting it down on the coffee table and sitting in one of the chairs. Sinéad saunters over and rubs against a stiletto heel.
“Also,” I sit on my couch, near her, “you missed our favorite Hollywood up and comer. She was here to harass me for hush money.”
“Was she? Well, she should consider herself lucky that she missed me then, because I would rip her head off and deflate those fake tits my ex-husband is probably going to buy for her. He offered to buy them for me more than once…”
“I thought you said you were going to take care of that,” I say, carefully.
“Oh, I am, dear. I need a few more days, though. Try to hold her off until then. If you feel it absolutely necessary, go ahead and give her some money.” That diabolical smile reminds me of Ian’s. “She’s going to need all the funds she can get soon.”
I don’t know what that means. I don’t want to know what that means. I hope it involves a private investigator.
“No, I came by to warn you, sweetie.” What is with these people and their pet names? My family would die. My father has a name for me, and that’s it. “My sack of shit ex was by my place the other day to get some more money out of me. Apparently, one of the investors for The Grand fell through, and Dominic is searching for money.”
“Shouldn’t Ian have it?”
“Didn’t he tell you? He already sank a fortune into it. More than Dominic did. Mess…”
“And they’re coming to me because nobody else will give them the money?”
“That’s about the size of it. You’re one of their last resorts.”
“Thanks for the warning, I guess, but why are you telling me this?” There’s no reason for Caroline to be at my door, gabbing about her family’s financial matters. We’re not that close, no matter how much she likes to think so. Normally, she would let me find out the hard way… like when Ian is sent to me on his father’s business, looking to lick some money out of my wallet.
Caroline raises her eyebrows as she sips more tea. “Why, because you can use it as leverage, dear.”
We’re silent, my mind turning with those possibilities. “You’re not suggesting…”
“I don’t suggest anything, Kathryn, other than you realize your true worth and know what you want from my son. Sometimes he’s a bit… thick. He doesn’t understand what we’re trying to tell him. He needs to be informed through other methods. Like through money. Ian understands money and business.”
Before I can open my mouth, Caroline drops her final bomb.
“Approach your relationship like a business transaction. Make him pay for what you both want.”
