Thorne Willa - Closed Heart -

CLOSED HEART WILLA THORNE © 2016 by Willa Thorne All rights reserved. This book is intended for adult audiences. This is a work of fiction. Names of characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination and do not represent any persons, living or dead. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Cover: Louisa at LM Creations Editor: Heather at L. Woods Editing Interior Formatting by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs Find me on Facebook for contests and upcoming releases www.facebook.com/AuthorWillaThorne



Special thanks... Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Epilogue

Special thanks... This book is dedicated to Sophie. Thank you for your constant encouragement and support over the last several months. You are an amazing friend. I also want to thank Cat, because you tirelessly encouraged and supported the story of Jackson and Elyse. I’m so lucky to have you. Roxy- Thank you for your suggestions and advice. Heather- Your feedback is awesome. I’d also like to thank: Jay, Sarah, Hilary, Kashunna, Mel, Miranda, Christi, Kimberly, Darcy, Laura, Ebony, Tina, Paige and Lizzie. Xxx You ladies give me constant smiles.



THE FIRST TIME I met her was at the masquerade hosted on my estate in New Rochelle. I had been roaming the corridors, bored with my own party. I was in one of my moods again, cursing myself for acquiescing to throw this party in the first place. I agreed to a masked ball as the result of a joke. I’d placed bets with some of my fellow alumni from Dartmouth during a game of poker. I would hardly call them friends, but they were the sons of bankers and well-known politicians. Their connections were essential to the growing empire I was establishing in Manhattan. My only thrill in life was the real estate and businesses I owned… until the night I met her. The sight of her was exquisite, and I think the world might have stopped spinning for a moment as I drank in her beauty. I found her on the balcony, away from the glitz and glamour of the party below us. A black, feathered mask covered half of her face, but I could tell from those rich, maroon lips that she was everything I wanted and needed to satiate this growing hunger within my core. Creamy skin complimented her lush, black hair. I continued to watch her, realizing that I might have found a new distraction. Headphones covered her ears as she sang along to some song I was unfamiliar with… Who the hell attends a party, only to wear headphones and escape? She had the voice of an angel as she sang softly to the lyrics. There was something familiar about her and I was enthralled. She seemed very different from the submissives I’ve taken in the past, although I couldn’t place why she seemed unique. It could have been her voice, or the way she swayed her hips to whatever was playing in her headphones. I watched her from the shadows of the dimly lit corridor as she stared out the window that overlooked the northeast gardens. Amidst her enchanting singing, I watched as she blew frosty breaths on the windows and doodled on the condensation that fogged up the glass. Christ. I just had those washed this afternoon. I flipped on a lightswitch that was beside me on the wall and watched her whirl around, obviously startled. That was my exact intention. I only smiled from beneath my own mask. I studied every curve of her figure, for the briefest moment, as she assessed me with a startled expression. She stared up at me with blue fuck-me eyes. Gorgeous. I witnessed how her expression suddenly changed as she took me in; her eyes narrowed defensively. From beneath her mask, she took on a cool demeanor. I’d been assessing her long enough, and saw past her defensive, tightly-wound demeanor. I suddenly knew exactly who she was. I shouldn’t want her. I shouldn’t crave her. I’m certain it was out of my own boredom that I became enamored with her. I tried to forget about her, and wrap myself in the thighs of other women, but this woman’s smile was always in the back of my mind. Her laugh was infectious, but she’s always been so guarded.

I made a silent promise to myself: I can, and will tear down those walls. However long it takes. I will feel those lush thighs wrapped around me. Challenge accepted.



THE RAIN TAPPED LIGHTLY on the window just beside my bed. The tiny Brooklyn walk-up I shared with my roommate was completely silent and I had the whole place to myself. I plopped onto my bed, closed my eyes, and took a moment to enjoy the sheer bliss of silence. I listened to the steady pattern of rain for a few minutes before I finally opened my eyes. I just finished my shift at the coffee house down the block from my apartment and I was ready to catch up on some reading before bed. I reached into the top drawer of the nightstand beside my bed and grabbed the novel I just started. This is probably one of the hottest books I’ve ever read, and I’m only a quarter into the story, but I was looking forward to this book all day. I flipped the page as I read, feeling my face flame hot. The chemistry between the characters in this story was on fire, and I reached the best part in the book, where the characters were about to have sex over the hood of his carSuddenly my phone vibrated. My heart was thrumming in my chest as I grabbed my cell phone. “Hello?” I asked, distractedly. I didn’t want to tear my eyes away from the words on the page. “Hey Ly!” My best friend, Jillian, chimed on the other end, and I smiled. I set my book aside and cuddled the phone to my ear and feigned a flirty, seductive voice. “Hi beautiful. What are you wearing?” “Hmm,” Jillian pondered. “I’m wearing a gray shirt decorated in baby drool. It’s the trend these days.” “Sexy.” She only laughed. “I’m calling because a few of us are going out tomorrow night. I got a babysitter for Julia so we’re going to Le Bernadin for dinner and drinks. You should come with us.” I nearly dropped my phone when Jill mentioned the name of the restaurant. I think I have two bucks to my name until payday on Friday. The place Jillian just mentioned costs way more than that and I still wanted to go. I really did, but there was just one problem. “Who’s going?” I asked suspiciously. “Me and Mason, and Piper, Zara and my brother, Travis. Just the usual crowd…” Jill’s voice trailed. “And maybe Jackson, if he’s back from Los Angeles.” I frowned, but my heart did a double skip at the mention of his name. Jackson Rochester. The man intrigues me, stirs my wildest fantasies, and terrifies me all at once. I’ve forbidden myself from obsessing over him and it’s been the hardest challenge I’ve faced lately. It wouldn’t be so difficult if Jackson wasn’t sinfully hot, or if he wasn’t the cousin of Jillian’s husband, Mason. I’ve done a good job of avoiding him since their wedding last year. I’ve become the queen of excuses, but it hasn’t been easy. A huge part of me always wants the forbidden fruit. “You have the day off tomorrow, right?” Jillian persisted. “Yeah, but I have to study for an exam and I’m taking the kids from the youth center to the Museum

tomorrow so I’m going to be wiped.” That was all the truth, but if I knew Jackson was going to be in L.A., then that excuse wouldn’t have stopped me from going out with my friends. “That’s so nice! Which museum are you taking them?” She asked. “We’re going to the Museum of Natural History.” “Sounds like fun. I’m glad you got the funding to take them on more trips.” She answered, but then flipped the topic. “I still don’t understand why you avoid Jax. I mean, he’s such a nice guy.” I sighed inwardly. Here we go. Her questions don’t help, especially when I’ve struggled with wanting this man for almost two years. But I can’t. There’s just no way being with Jackson would end well. He’ll ruin me. “J, I already told you. I’ve made too many mistakes in my life. I have my blog. I have the kids at the youth center to think about. I’ll be damned if they make the same mistakes I did. I’m trying to do what’s best for me and-” “Yeah, I’m sorry, Ly. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” I could hear a baby’s cry in the background. “I have to go. Julia just woke up. I have a feeling I’m going to be up all night.” “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said quickly before the call ended. I hated turning down a good time with my friends, but I don’t trust myself around that man. I tried to shake off the negative thoughts as I picked up my novel. Where did I leave off? Oh yeah… right on the hood of the car. I tried to immerse myself in the story, but all I could think about was one man. As I read the scene, it wasn’t the main character I was imagining. It was him. With me. On the hood of a white Maserati. My face turned fifteen shades of pink and then red at the thought, and my heart tripped in my chest. I slammed the book shut and pushed it away before my imagination took over. I stared up at the ceiling, forcing myself to think about the youth center, my college classes, my sisters, or anything that might distract me from the thought of him. It was all useless. He invaded my thoughts. How can I accurately describe Jackson Rochester? He’s intense, and daring. When he stares at me, it’s like he’s boring holes through my soul. It’s intimidating. He’s tall, and built like a god. But really, the best question I should be asking myself is this: What’s it like to want a man I can never have? I know my best friend thinks I’m being stubborn when I insist that I can’t have him, but it’s true. I never told her my secret. I never told anyone, and the biggest reason for that is because I’ve felt guilty. The other part of me is terrified that if Jackson ever finds out, he’ll come after me. I’ve heard a few rumors over the years that he handles people who cross him, and if he ever found out, I'm sure he'd want to punish me.

5 years ago The fluorescent purple and white lights bounced off the black dance floor, and the club was packed. The music reverberated against the walls, and my whole body moved to the remix that the DJ spun. I moved my head, loving the way my thick gold hoops swung to the beat. The club was hopping, brand new and in an upscale part of SoHo. My roommate claimed she knew the bouncer and we arrived fully equipped with fake ID’s and four-inch heels. I raised my hands above my head and swayed my hips as my favorite song by Taio Cruz blared over the speakers. I was lost in the music as I rubbed hips with Shana. I wore a slinky red dress, which I’d borrowed from her. Suddenly, her hand was on my arm and she pulled. “Look over by the door. He’s beautiful.” I heard her speak over the music and I paused my swaying as I looked in the direction she was pointing. Across the floor, by the entrance, a sinfully hot guy stood among a small crowd. His chestnut hair was cut short, but he still raked a hand through those tresses. He was really tall, and his navy buttondown and black slacks seemed custom tailored to fit him flawlessly. He was rugged with unshaven scruff, yet still beautiful. It was a perfect combination, and he could easily put some Hollywood heartthrobs to shame. Even from a distance, I could tell the man had a devilish spark to him. He was charming, and seemed to draw people to him as he laughed and smiled with them. Women gathered around him, and he casually flirted with them as they made passes at him. “God, he’s perfection, like it’s illegal.” Shana commented, nearly drooling. “You got that right, babe.” I was so tipsy, I barely cared. I was there to dance and forget about my life for the night. I’d recently been used and humiliated by some asshole. I was still recovering from being burnt. I turned to her and grabbed her hands, and began dancing again. She smiled and began dancing along with me, but she stopped immediately and stared straight past me. I stopped and looked in the direction she was gawking and found the same man, staring straight at me. I knew, by his simmering gaze, that he was no good. He stared at me with a playful, wolfish halfsmirk. He opened the top two buttons on his navy shirt and was in the process of rolling his sleeves up to his forearms, never taking his eyes off me. My heart palpitated with adrenaline from the silent encounter. No man has ever stared at me like that, and I couldn't help but stare over my shoulder to see if he was watching someone else. Nope, I think he’s staring at me. The attention was exhilarating and I looked straight at him, feeling bold from liquid courage. I began swaying my hips. He blatantly stared with a smoldering grin, enjoying that I loved his attention. I leaned into Shana. “Do you know who he is?” “His name is Jackson Rochester, but I’ve heard a few of his friends call him Jax. He shows up sometimes, hangs around, and then leaves. He started appearing in the society pages a few months ago. He owns a real estate firm or something like that. He’s trouble. He loves women, if you can’t tell already.” She gestured with a thumb toward the women who remained gathered around him, vying for his attention. My heart sank at the mention of his name. A man like him would never take a girl like me seriously. I’ve heard his name too many times while I was growing up in the system. He still stared at me, quietly challenging me to come to him. I wanted to, just for fun, but I couldn’t... “Oh shit. He’s staring at you, Ly. Go over to him. Maybe he’ll buy you a drink!” A tingle of

excitement shot up my spine. I wished I could approach him, but his name was a deal breaker. She pulled on my arm, and I turned to her to say something, but I wanted one last look at the stranger. I’d written to his company just a year before, asking for help through sponsorships or donations. At the time, I was still an impulsive college student, and hadn’t done my research thoroughly. If I had, I would have known it was his company. I was desperate, trying to keep East Village Youth Center from collapsing financially. As one of New York City’s many foster kids, I’d been so emotionally invested in that tiny organization since I was fifteen. That was then, and this was now. It’s been about six months since I saw my mentor at the center, Doris. I was nineteen at the time, and for the last six months, I’d been spiraling farther away from what I cared about most: the kids at the youth center. I hadn’t even seen them in several months. My phone suddenly vibrated within the clutch I was holding. I fished it out and blurrily studied the screen. “Who’s calling you?” Shana asked. The name DORIS flashed across the screen and I frowned. A flare of guilt lashed at me, but I tried to ignore it. “Just Doris. She was my mentor at the youth center when I was a kid. She keeps trying to get me to come back.” I pushed the reject button and tossed my phone back into the clutch. Shana rolled her eyes. “You can’t fucking babysit like it’s charity work for the rest of your life. Live a little.” I still felt the eyes of that man, Jackson Rochester, staring through my back. I felt my whole body responding to his attention, and I craved more. I turned to look back at him, beyond tempted to at least approach him and say hi. He doesn’t have to know. It was years ago, I reminded myself. But as I looked his way, I saw him slink an arm around the waist of some leggy model in a tight silk dress that fit like underwear. He was already walking with a small group toward the V.I.P section of the club. Just like that, I was forgotten. At least he spared me the rejection that would follow the morning after. Shana whispered something into my ear, but I didn’t hear what she said. My mind was fixated on that beautiful man. “I’m just looking out for you, Ly. You’re my boo.” That was the only thing I heard escape her lips. I passed her a stiff smile. Deep down, I knew this girl wasn’t looking out for my best interests. I’d become completely detached from my involvement at the youth center, and spiraled down a negative path. The more time I spent with Shana, the more lost I became. I found myself hanging with her crowd, drinking in street alleys, and shoplifting. I wanted to be in blissful ignorance that night, forgetting everything that happened for the last nineteen years. I pulled her hands and started dancing, but froze when I spotted the next guy to catch my eye. Chance Tanner walked through the doors of the club, with an olive toned beauty on his arm, and a trio of friends in tow. He’s a trust fund baby, and captain of the college swim team. He’s gorgeous, and it’s all gone to his head because there’s an air of confidence about him that just draws people to him, just like Jackson Rochester. He didn’t notice me, and I dodged the crowds before he could see me. I spent two semesters crushing on him and he seemed genuinely interested in me, too. Several months before, he invited me to a party. “Take a chance on Chance,” he said once I reached my limit of tequila, giving me a charming grin. I wish I realized then how stupid that pickup line really was, but I went back to the apartment his dad bought for him in Greenwich Village. The evening was anything but romantic, and I honestly remember very little of it. I only remember the next morning I felt really sore. It wasn’t the delicious,

sensual ache I’ve read about in my sexy novels. It was like we were both drunk and he didn’t know what the hell he was doing… and didn’t care, either. I woke the next morning with a banging headache, and before I could ask for tylenol, he said I needed to clear out. I was nothing but a bet he made with his friends, and he won. He had the audacity to thank me for helping him win. Being a kid who grew up in New York’s foster care system, I dealt with more than my share of inconsistency, rejection and verbal abuse. Chance was only the icing on the cake. In the heat of the moment, I just withdrew from college entirely. That led to a downward spiral in other decisions as well. “You’re leaving already?” Shana complained behind me as I maneuvered through the crowds. I kept my eye on Chance, who still hadn’t noticed me. He and his crew had positioned themselves by the bar on the opposite side of the floor. “Yeah. Asshole alert.” I jerked my thumb in his direction, and she gave me a knowing look. I wanted to break his nose, but I knew I was too drunk at the moment. I made a detour through the crowds and safely made my way out of the club without being seen. The bitter cold outside hit hard, and my teeth chattered as my body adjusted to the sharp contrast in temperature. We walked a few feet down the street. “I need a smoke,” Shana blurted. “Fuck, it's cold.” I rolled my eyes and we continued walking on the pavement until we found a line of expensive cars that were parked along the curb and I just assumed these were the spots that were reserved for valet parking. We walked past the cars, admiring the detailing. “This one is pretty,” I admired a flashy red design. I think that’s the only thing my drunk brain registered as I looked at the car. “Yeah, but this one is my favorite,” Shana smiled as she pointed to an orange Ferrari. “I didn’t even know they had these sporty cars in the city.” “You can have whatever you want if you front the cash for it.” We passed the row of cars, smiling at the security who remained posted at certain spots on the sidewalk. Then we rounded a corner, which was more sparsely lined. There were a total of four cars parked on this street, and they were spaced very far apart. “Oh Ly…” Shana suddenly spoke in a taunting, singsong voice. She held up a hand to stop me. I paused, now carrying my four-inch heels. “Yeah?” “Didn’t you say that Dickwad drove a white Maserati?” She asked. I looked in the direction that she was pointing and found a pristine, white Maserati. “Why yes, I did say that.” The humiliation I faced from Chance Tanner paired with the anger that still boiled within me. My judgment was nonexistent. I held out my hand as I kept my focus on the flawless, perfect car. She slapped a set of keys in my hand. I walked around the car, admiring it and inspecting it. The alarm went off, blaring. I ran the key along the paint job, working quickly as the alarms blared. I only had the span of a few seconds. By the time the security showed up, Shana and I were long gone, but I’d left a message etched on the driver’s side door: FUCK U PRICK We slipped through a darkened alley and spent the rest of the evening laughing about it. “That will show him,” I gave a wicked smirk. Shana played the video from her phone over and over

as we lay on her mattress, giggling repeatedly. Finally, Shana yawned and then turned and looked at me with an annoyed expression. “Why did you blow off Jackson Rochester at the club? I don’t get it, Boo. He’s got the whole package.” I pursed my lips, wondering if I should say anything. I always hated when foster parents or social workers brought the subject up when they thought I wasn’t around. I felt sleepy and my head was swimming, but Shana nudged me with her elbow. “When I was nine, Jackson’s parents and sister were killed in a car accident,” I answered. “So? That’s not your problem.” I jolted upright in the bed, and nearly fell back from the sudden shift in my movement. “You’re such a bitch. It is my problem.” “Why?” She cast me a humored, but incredulous expression. “My mom was the one driver who struck them,” I snapped, gritting my teeth. I lost my breath in that fleeting moment, waiting for Shana to respond. She stared at me blankly, as though she didn’t know whether to believe me. It was the first time that truth ever escaped my lips and I cursed myself internally for having mentioned it. The accident occurred two months after my mom handed me over to social services. I overheard the whispered comments between my case manager and foster parents at certain points throughout my childhood. I remember the way they would look at me as they were informed about my mother. She’d married some deadbeat when I was five. I vaguely remember him, but she kept his last name. As my mind went over those memories, Shana finally let out a loud, giggle-snort. “That’s some shit. I’m sorry. It’s not funny.” It wasn’t funny at all; it was awful. I grabbed a pillow from the mattress and left her on the bed as I exited her bedroom. I had to leave before I made my third bad choice for the night: smothering her with the pillow. I returned to my room, still drunk, sleepy, and conflicted with emotions. I clearly recall waking the next afternoon and flipping on the television as I poured myself a huge bowl of cereal. Jackson Rochester was displayed on our local news station and it caught my attention. I remembered his handsome face from the night before and looked at him on the screen as I poured milk over my cocoa puffs. I was ready to eat the first spoonful of cereal when I suddenly realized why Jackson Rochester’s face was on the news. ROCHESTER SEEKING INFORMATION FOR VANDALISM. I choked on a gulp of air, and felt like I was going to vomit at the same time. I felt sick with nausea, remembering the idiotic thing I’d done the night before. How could I be so stupid? I thought it was Chance Tanner’s car, but that was no excuse… they’d lock a girl like me up for less of a reason. I cupped a hand over my mouth as I stared at the news story. The reporter claimed they had very little information and Jackson Rochester was not available for further comment, only that he left the club at around two in the morning and found the graphic message written on the side of his white Maserati. My head was throbbing, and hot tears streamed down my face as the reality settled in deeply. The fatal accident my mother caused years ago wasn’t enough. I had to vandalize his car, too. We make quite the mother-daughter team. “At this time, we have no information leading to the suspect...” The news reporter spoke into the camera, but it didn’t give me any relief. That street has security cameras, right? My mind was spinning and nothing made any sense. I was convinced the cops would show up on my door at any minute. I

expected to flip on the news and see surveillance images pointing to me…but it never happened. I was so confused, and when my mentor from the Youth Center reached out to me the next day, I answered the phone immediately. I was stressed, terrified and stricken with guilt for what I’d done. Doris never judged me, and kept my secret when I confided in her about the car accident and the vandalism. With her encouragement, I moved out of the apartment I shared with Shana and into an empty room in the apartment Doris rented at the time. I became involved in the community center again, still haunted by my fear of being caught, but with time, it really did seem like it was long in the past. The Society pages even mentioned Jackson’s brand new car. His white Maserati wasn’t mentioned ever again, like it never even existed. Soon after, I met my best friend, Jillian and everything hit me all over again when she became involved with Mason Woodward, whose cousin was none other than Jackson Rochester.





Present Day “LISSIE? DORIS WANTS TO see you.” One of the other college volunteers approached me on the pavement, and there was a soft expression on her round face as she spoke. I glanced over my shoulder as some of the kids with the East Village Youth Center played double dutch across the small paved lot. Another group of young teens played basketball on the opposite side. “Oooh, you’re in trouble now!” Some of the kids teased. I rolled my eyes, and held up a hand. “Please. Go make yourselves busy.” The kids just laughed and ran back to their games. I made my way across the paved lot and entered the building through the back door. The interior was dimly lit, and the lighting needed to be fixed in a very bad way. The building served as a small elementary school until 1961, and then the school was moved to another building and East Village eventually took over years later. I found Doris’s office after rounding the first corner. I knocked a few times and the door immediately opened. “Ly!” Doris held the door open for me. She’s a petite woman with salt-and-pepper hair that has always been shaped into a bob. The creases by her eyes indicate that she’s well into her sixties, but she never stops smiling. I love this woman with all my heart, and I’ve admired her since I was fifteen years old, when I was first brought to the center as a troubled kid. Doris wrapped her arms around me and I returned the embrace. “How are things going for you, dear? How are your classes?” She instantly jumped into conversation as she sat in her rickety old desk chair. I sat facing her desk, in a small faux leather arm chair that had a large crack along the seam. “Things are good. I’m good. My grades are great,” I grinned. Doris nodded and smiled. “Your blog has gotten quite a bit of attention in the last few weeks.” “Yeah I’m really surprised, but I won’t complain.” I shrugged with a grin. Two years ago, I started a blog titled KIDS IN ACTION. All my entries are based on the East Village Youth Center and I’ve been careful to keep the privacy of the kids and staff in check. It started as a project for one of my sociology classes, but I kept it going in an effort to bring more awareness to the need for inner city programs for troubled teens. In the last couple of years, the blog rose from sixteen followers to fourteen hundred. As a surprise birthday gift last year, Jillian’s husband hired someone from his IT department to develop a website just for the blog. “I called you in here today because I was presented with an amazing opportunity for you, and I am hoping you’ll be as excited for it as I am,” Doris smiled. This definitely caught my attention, and I braced myself for what was coming. I gripped the armrests of my chair, anticipating whatever Doris was about to announce. “As you know, the Penny Jane Foundation has started taking more interest in our youth center and has gifted us with a large amount of funding over the last few years. They’re branching to other community centers in Detroit and Philadelphia as well. Their annual benefit is this Saturday night, and the spokesman for Penny Jane called me this morning…” I listened intently. I followed the Penny Jane Foundation whenever stories were announced concerning their projects and endeavors. I admired their efforts and everything they did to help disadvantaged kids across the United States, including the East Village Youth Center. Doris seemed to be deliberately dragging out whatever she had to say, as though she wanted to pause for dramatic effect. “And..?” I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair, impatiently. “Jeremy Waters is the spokesman for Penny Jane and he’s noticed your blog. He called and specifically asked that YOU be at the benefit on Saturday night-”

My heart jumped in my throat for a split second before it stopped beating. I watched Doris’s mouth move as she continued explaining, but all I could make out from what she said were the words “specifically asked that YOU be at the benefit on Saturday night…” “Pause a second. I’m sorry, what?” I leaned forward, like that would help me process the news better. Doris chuckled. “The spokesman for Penny Jane Foundation specifically requested you, Elyse Mendez, to be present at the charity event on Saturday evening, darling.” My whole face felt hot with nerves, but I was spilling over with excitement, too. This is a huge deal. This is a really huge, fucking deal! “Me? But why?” If it wasn’t for my huge grin, my tone might sound like a protest. I was just really curious. Why me? Doris continued with her wrinkled smile and pointed a finger at me. “You have done so much for this youth center, and it’s getting noticed. You have a passion that many people don’t have for these kids and the children in this center adore you because they can relate to you. You know, more than anyone else, what these kids are going through because you were in their shoes.” I leaned back in the chair, still high on adrenaline from my excitement, but I tried to force myself to keep calm. I crossed my legs as I looked at Doris. “Mr. Waters made an excellent point when I spoke with him this morning. He said every year they try to get a celebrity to represent the foundation at their annual benefit. This year, they want someone who genuinely represents the foundation’s upcoming projects. You represent all the good things that donations and sponsorships can bring to help these kids. Am I making sense?” “I think so,” I answered. My answer was short because I was more interested in what else Doris had to say. “You’ll have to mingle with lots of rich people, and make a short thank you speech to the benefactors at the evening’s event…” Again, my mentor’s words trailed off as I tried to process what she just said. Wait, what?! Public speaking terrifies me. I can’t explain why. My mouth went dry last semester when I had to give a five-minute speech in front of a class of thirty students in my oral communication class. “A speech?” I repeated. Doris gave me a warning look. “Yes, a small thank you speech, dear. It doesn’t have to be anything long and elaborated. I can help you write something if you need pointers. You still have three days to come up with something-” Three days! My face felt flaming hot at this point. “Before you start to come up with excuses, think about the kids this will benefit. The Penny Jane Foundation wants a real, live person to represent them and they chose you. Do it for the kids, Elyse. You deserve this opportunity.” I breathed in deeply and let out an exhale. She’s right. I nodded. “You’re right, Doris. This is for the kids. I’ll do it.” “That’s my girl,” she replied with a smile. “Should I call Mr. Waters and tell him I accept? If he’s only the spokesman, who’s the president of the foundation?” Doris shrugged. “Nobody really knows, but nobody really cares to ask. Mr. Waters makes all public announcements for The Penny Jane Foundation.” “Let’s call him back right now,” I grinned. I didn’t want to give myself any opportunity to get cold feet before I gave my official answer. By the time I left East Village at the end of the day, the gravity of the situation settled in and I was very

nervous. Actually, I was terrified. I only had three days to prepare what I was going to say in front of hundreds of people. I spent that evening locked in the bedroom of the tiny apartment I shared with my estranged roommate. I pulled out my thick purple binder, which contained old letters I’d written to corporations in the last few years. Thank you letters from me were mixed with rejection letters from many of the firms and high-end businesses. I really should organize this folder… As I rummaged through the documents, looking for pieces of inspiration for my speech, I found a copy of an old, forgotten letter I’d written to Jackson Rochester’s real estate firm, asking for his help.

East Village Youth Center 501 East 6th Street New York, NY 10009 (212) 228-9680 “Comprehensive care for a promising future in Manhattan’s children.” April 9, 2009 Dear Miss Kimberly Allen, My name is Elyse Mendez and I am writing on behalf of East Village Youth Center. Our youth program is very small and relies entirely on sponsorships and donations from generous benefactors. I grew up as a troubled teenager in New York’s foster system, and I can genuinely say that I might be lost today if it was not for East Village Youth Center’s programs. Our youth center strives to empower disconnected and disadvantaged youth throughout Manhattan by providing comprehensive training, developmental services, counseling, and extracurricular activities. Currently, East Village is in danger of losing everything it has worked for because the building is headed toward foreclosure and due to lack of funding, programs are being cut. I am asking for any assistance you can provide. Your sponsorship or donations would be eternally appreciated. I would be happy to answer any questions you have about East Village Youth Center and the impact it has made in lives like mine and other youth in Manhattan. Sincerely, Elyse Mendez, volunteer Social Science Freshmen at Brooklyn College [email protected] October 10, 2009 Dear Ms. Elyse Mendez, Thank you for your letter about your youth program. At JRP, Inc., we understand and recognize the

importance of the work you do with your program. Unfortunately, we have already exhausted our annual charity fund for this year and will not be able to extend any assistance to your cause. Mr. Rochester wishes your endeavors well and will consider your charity work for future sponsorship choices in the coming years. Kind Regards, Kimberly Allen Director of Operations JRP, Inc. I studied the brief exchange of letters, remembering how I hoped and prayed for a miracle that would save the East Village Youth Center. I wrote to JRP, Inc. after going down a list of businesses that would likely to take pity on us. When I got the rejection letter about six months later it was only one of many turn downs from various companies. The letter stung, but it was more surprising. I didn’t know JRP, Inc. belonged to Jackson. If I can be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t have bothered his company if I had known he was the owner. He’d been through enough, thanks to my mother. Another organization did swoop in and save the day. The Penny Jane Foundation supports causes like the East Village Youth Center, and they provided us with the funding we needed to climb back out of the hole. I wrote that letter to Jackson’s firm when I was eighteen, about six months before I fell away from the youth center and spiraled down a bad path and made that mistake involving his Maserati. I cringed inwardly as I thought about that disgusting vandalism I left on the side of his car. It doesn’t matter if he seems to be an eccentric playboy with billions to blow on yachts, booze and women. He still didn’t deserve what I did to his car. None of these documents helped me come up with inspiration for my thank you speech. I tucked the papers back into my folder and looked through the society pages of the newspaper. I needed to find something that would help me write a speech that would blow these people away. As I flipped through the pages of the newspaper idly, I found myself looking at a current page in the Society section. I raised a brow when I saw Jackson’s picture, front and center, in the spotlight. Something squeezed my heart as I looked at his photo. He was on a yacht, sporting a crisp white polo and khakis that seemed to fit his perfect body in every way imaginable. He held a glass tumbler in one hand, and his arm was snaked around the lower back of some woman. She was gorgeous, tan and tall and her blonde hair hung down her body in beachy waves. In the photo, he appeared to be smiling with a small group of people. JRP, INC. CELEBRATES 10 YEARS OF SUCCESS. According to the article, Jackson celebrated the ten-year anniversary of his high-end Real Estate firm by hosting a party on his yacht for his employees. That’s actually pretty damn thoughtful. I couldn’t see the owner of the coffeehouse I worked at doing anything remotely generous like that. There were excerpts from some of the employees, stating how much they enjoyed working for him and that they’ve never been happier. I wondered if they were saying that to kiss ass, or if they really felt that way. Honestly, I might be happy working for anyone who decides to throw a party on their yacht with premium liquor, fresh lobster and a hot tub. That sounds perfect. It was useless to keep my thoughts from him. You promised, I reminded myself silently, remembering the vow I made. I wouldn’t let myself crush on him. No, any chance I could have had with him was destroyed years ago. Sometimes, especially in the mornings on my way to work, I think about what my life might be like if

things had been different. I wonder what it would be like to be with him, even if it was just for one night. I shook the intrusive thoughts from my mind, desperate for any distraction. A thought suddenly crossed my mind as I drifted back to the blank index cards strewn across my quilt. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Without a second thought, I dialed Jillian’s number. I had to tell her my good news about the benefit on Saturday night. I knew she and her husband were already going because she’d asked me to watch Julia that evening. Not only did I need to cancel the babysitting gig, but I needed advice from her husband, Mason. He knew, better than anyone else, how to read these people. He grew up in their world. I knew he’d give me some good pointers to include in my speech. By the end of the night, I was really grateful I thought to ask Mason for help. After an hour talking with him on the phone, I had four index cards filled with notes about things I could include in my little speech.

SATURDAY WAS HERE before I could blink an eye. My nerves had settled in a knotted jumble in my stomach. Mason critiqued my written speech and gave a few more suggestions. I was grateful for his advice. When I get nervous in front of crowds, I tend to blank out and that’s what had my stomach in knots. The benefit for The Penny Jane Foundation was held in The Pierre, a gorgeous five-star hotel. The view was splendid, but my mind was on my speech, which I was due to give at any minute. I sat at a round, white-clothed table which was just in front of the stage, watching Jeremy Waters charismatically speak to the audience, but I wasn’t hearing what he said. I downed my flute of champagne, hoping it would take the edge off, but all it did was churn in my stomach. “And now, I’d like to introduce all of you to Elyse Mendez, who works directly with one of the centers sponsored by The Penny Jane Foundation…” I only heard my name, and everything else the spokesman stated in my introduction was a blur. I gripped my index cards, which were now damp from my clammy palms, and I clutched the skirt of my red silk gown as I made my way toward the stage. There were about five hundred guests, all who clapped stiffly and politely. I was out of my league in this place, and a pang of anxiety shot up from my chest as I faced the microphone and witnessed every pair of eyes staring at me expectantly. I stared back for a moment, nearly forgetting to look at my index cards. “Hell- hello. I’m Elyse Mendez,” I cleared my throat, feeling my mouth going dry already. “First of all, I want to thank The Penny Jane Foundation and Mr. Jeremy Waters for inviting me to be here tonight. I feel so honored.” My mouth was the Sahara Desert, and as I stared down at my index cards, I couldn’t remember where I’d left off. It was a blurry jumble of words. Just wing it, I told myself silently. “Without the Penny Jane Foundation, East Village would have folded years ago. Because of them, we’ve been able to provide programs such as counseling, health services, recreational activities and tutoring services to name a few.” I desperately tried to remembered to say everything that Mason advised would catch the attention of these elite patrons. “Next year, with the help of generous donations and sponsorships like yours, we plan to open a literacy program…” Oh, God this sounds bad. I looked down and still couldn’t focus on what I was trying to find on my index notes. I flipped to the next card. I finally gave up and gripped the microphone.

“Most of you don’t really know me. I’m just an anonymous face, and that’s cool. But The Penny Jane Foundation is very important to me, because it saved something that is very precious to me, and kept it from crumbling financially. I was lost and troubled when I came to East Village Youth Center at fifteen, and they took me in. Now I’m a mentor, and my goal is to help kids understand that they can belong, that they can be accepted and they can do anything and be anything as long as they put their minds to it. If it wasn’t for Penny Jane, we would have lost the opportunity to reach out to these kids and change liveslives like mine. I can only hope that you will take this moment to think about the lives your donations can change. It means more than you might realize. Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your night, everyone.” I let go of the microphone, and didn’t realize I had such a death grip on it until a roar of clapping erupted. I looked up and found Jillian standing, clapping. I let out a deep breath and caught the approving grin Mason was giving me as I left the stage. Now I really needed a drink… “That was bloody brilliant,” he congratulated. “Thanks.” Jillian threw her arms around me. “You were amazing. See, it wasn’t so bad!” She says that because she wasn’t the one on the stage… “Thanks, babe. I’m going to get a drink now.” I said somewhat shakily. I left the table before they could offer to get the drink for me. I just wanted to slip away to the bar, where it was quieter, sip something strong, and breathe for a few minutes. The rectangular bar station was off to the side, away from the display of white-clothed tables, and extremely far from the stage. Another speaker, one I didn’t recognize, took the stage as I made my way toward the bar station. Her words were a fuzzed blur to my ears, because as I made my way to the back, all I could think about is what I said in my speech and what I should have said instead… As I drew closer to the drink bar, my eyes suddenly fell on him. He stood near the open entrance, which was kept propped open, and I’m pretty sure he stood there because he was late to the event. His green eyes blatantly bore through me. Jackson Rochester. Fuck me. No, I don’t mean that literally… at least, I tried to convince myself that. I turned away and closed my eyes, but his searing gaze was still on me. I sensed it so strongly that I couldn’t deny it, and I involuntarily turned to look at him. Our eyes remained locked, and one side of his perfect, full lips curled upwards into a smirk as he kept those eyes on me. My heart was in my throat. This charity event was the absolute last place in the world I’d ever expect to see him. In fact, the idea of seeing him here was so far-fetched, that it never even occurred to me that he might be here this evening. A blonde, leggy woman in a skimpy black sparkling dress hung on his left side and I could tell his hand was on her lower back. I stared like an idiot, and didn’t pay attention as I walked straight into a dessert table. This caught the attention of several nearby patrons, some of them laughed and snapped photos from their cell phones. Lucky for me, nothing went crashing to the floor, but when I looked up, Jackson had a fist pressed to his mouth and I could see the curve of his smile behind it. He didn’t even hide the fact that he was clearly studying me. I watched his eyes roam up and down the red satin that hugged my curves. Jillian lent me an Alexander McQueen maxi dress for the evening. It was probably the most expensive thing I’ve ever worn in my life, because I wanted to make a good impression at the benefit. Jackson’s date whispered something and then left his side, completely oblivious that he barely paid her any attention. His focus was on my bare back, and the way the dress tucked and enhanced my cleavage. I tried to brush off the incident with the dessert table, and licked a bit of icing off my fingers as I stared at him. Something flashed through his eyes when I did this, and he fixated on my mouth for the

smallest second. Then his gaze reverted to mine and the look was purely lustful, challenging and playful. I’ve seen that look on his face before. Memories, brief as they are, flooded through me. Something curled up within me. I wasn’t sure what it was. Jealousy? It couldn't be, I’ve tried to avoid him ever since we first met at the masked ball he hosted on his estate in New Rochelle.

Nearly two years ago… I took in the magical display of white, glittering lights which dangled from the polished railing of the balcony. I had never been to a party like this before, and I was left breathless. I watched from a distance as my best friend, Jillian, laughed softly and sipped her drink. She and Mason had only been dating for a few months, but things were hot and cold between them in the beginning of their relationship. This evening, they seemed very cozy together and I was completely out of my element at this shindig. “Oh, that is a lovely dress, my dear. Who are you wearing?” An elderly remained poised behind me, wearing a sparkling black mask. She reminded me of a glittering ostrich. “I actually don’t know. I can’t really afford designer gowns. My friend bought me this dress, but I still have the tags underneath so I can return it tomorrow.” My response was polite, yet brutally honest. I was met with a disapproving stare in response. “Excuse me.” I smiled. I had been asked that question more than once within a half-hour period. I felt like the third wheel, and my gown was uncomfortable. The mask I wore scratched my face, but I kept it on, just in case any eyes recognized me. That thought filled me with discomfort, and I found myself wandering away from the party. The grand stairway led up to a bannister on both sides of the ballroom. The wooden steps were dark, polished cherry wood with a plush burgundy carpeting. The music still floated around me as I found my way up the stairwell. The corridors were quiet, and I found a comfort in the solace. Most of the doors were locked, except for a small parlor. The furniture was classic and it felt like I had stepped into a scene from the 1920’s. The orchestral music was faint from the party below. I ran my fingers along the taupe arm chair as I took in the view. A large bay window opened onto a balcony, and a brisk wind whipped the sheer white curtains. Paintings hung on the wood panel walls, although they were nothing I had seen at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Various landscapes hung, in different sizes, on the walls, but I was taken with one painting in particular. The painting was of a brown horse with her foal. They both had a white star on their foreheads. The artist must have painted them while on a beach, and the beauty was classic. I could almost imagine myself on the white sand with them. I analyzed the artwork, but none of the pieces were signed. I felt safe in this room, shut away from the crowds down below. I pulled the earplugs from the silk clutch that Jillian lent me and I plugged them into my phone. I could wait out the remainder of the party up here, and check on Jill later in the evening. I turned on my playlist, and “Come Home” by One Republic immediately greeted my ears. I stared out the window, toward the gorgeous panoramic view of the estate. The large bay window overlooked an amazing garden that surrounded the cobbled entrance, which led up to the mansion. The sun was nearly setting, but the glowing lanterns outside illuminated the entire garden. Feeling uninhibited by the lack of audience, I sang along to the lyrics of my favorite song as it played. … There’s someone I’ve been missing, I think that they could be the better half of me They’re in the wrong place trying to make it right... My voice was soft as I sang along to the lyrics. The song has always touched me for some reason. I was in my own world as I sang to myself, puffing frosty breaths which fogged up the glass of the

window. I drew a heart on the condensation, before returning my attention to the art work. The display and blend of color was incredible, but I still couldn’t find any sign of signature or initials by the artist. Suddenly, a man cleared his throat behind me, busting my imaginative bubble. Despite my earplugs, it was loud enough to be heard. “Are you snooping, too?” I heard a strong, yet commanding voice inquire from the doorway. I immediately turned from the art display on the wall, and met the mysterious gaze at the entrance. I pulled the earplugs away, and my mouth formed an “O” as I took in the sight before me. The man was tall, at about 6’2 and he held a crystal flute of champagne in one hand. A mask, which reminded me of the phantom from my favorite musical, covered about one half of his face. His chestnut hair was slicked back, and a pair of green eyes stared at me intently as a slight smirk rested on his face. Good God, the man is hot. Still, I had to appear unaffected. I’ve been burned before. I’ll never be that fool again. “I’m not snooping,” I responded coolly. “I’m surprised this room is open,” the stranger commented as he took two strides into the room. I expected him to close the door behind himself, but he didn’t. “The other doors in the hall are locked.” I nodded, and looked toward the window before I returned my gaze in his direction. I felt my inhibitions taking over, and I was quiet as I assessed him. He didn’t seem phased by the icy stare I gave him through the black lace of my mask. He seemed familiar for some reason. Maybe I’ve served him coffee before. I wait on hundreds of people every day, serving coffee and cappuccinos in a very busy coffee shop. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him; there was something about his presence that demanded my attention. He crossed the room and helped himself to a drink at the bar in the back corner of the room. The small rack was lined with premium liquor. “I don’t think that’s open for guests,” I finally stated as he poured himself a shot of whiskey. “Why not?” the man asked, purely humored by my comment. “Jackson Rochester seems like the sharing sort.” I grimaced. “I still don’t think he’d want us digging through his good stuff,” I frowned with a matter-of-fact tone. He cast me an amused expression through the mystery of his mask. “I didn’t realize you’re such an expert on all things Jax.” He threw his shot back and then winced slightly from the burn. “There’s not a single photo in the paper that doesn’t have him surrounded by beautiful women with booze.” I shrugged. “Ah yes. It’s always important to trust whatever the media feeds us. Care for a drink?” “No, thanks,” I answered crisply. I could tell this man was just like those fraternity clowns I went to college with. You’re being rude for no reason, I ridiculed myself quietly. “I already had a few drinks downstairs,” I added, trying to be polite. “I see a bottle of water,” he responded as he opened the door to a mini fridge, beneath the countertop. “I think it has your name on it.” A small laugh escaped my lips. “You don’t even know my name.” “I could, if you tell me.” “That would ruin the mystery. What’s the point of this,” I gestured toward my mask, “If I tell you my name?” Truthfully, I wanted to escape the evening without anyone knowing my name. I just didn’t want Jackson Rochester’s attention. I imagined the man was downstairs as he mingled with all of his elitist friends at the party.

“Fair enough,” the stranger agreed. “No names- for now.” “Why are you in here and not at the party?” I asked. I knew I would never see this man again after tonight, but I found him to be mesmerizing and he didn’t seem affected by my cool exterior. I watched him move across the room and he stood by the window, just beside me. We stood in silence for a few moments as we appreciated the view of the gardens below. “I don’t care for crowds,” he finally answered after giving his response some thought. “This event wasn’t my idea. Unfortunately, I lost a bet.” “Really? You have to be here tonight because you lost a bet?” I couldn’t help but smile. He turned toward me, and his green eyes locked with mine intently. “Something like that. And yourself? What is a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a room? There’s a whole party down below, and you’d rather shut yourself away, with headphones, fogging up perfectly clean windows?” Despite his question, his smile warmed me. This fuzzy feeling alarmed me to no end. “I’m here with my best friend and her boyfriend. I’m a third wheel. I don’t like crowds either.” I scrunched my nose to emphasize my point, and he only chuckled. He continued to watch me inquisitively. It was like he didn’t know what to think of me, but he was very amused. Slowly, he reached a hand out to me and I almost took a step back, but he gently pulled something from my hair and held up a black feather. His perfect mouth curved into a slight smile. “Your mask is shedding,” I let out a soft breath as I looked up at him. His stare never left me. I should have felt disturbed, but I didn’t. The waltz of music floated from the party below, and could be faintly heard in this small sitting room. “Care for a dance?” He asked. “I don’t know any fancy dances,” I answered, scrunching my nose. “Well,” he held out a hand to me. “There’s nobody else watching, and since I don’t know your name, I can’t tag you in any embarrassing social media videos.” I threw my head back and laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed like that. His green eyes twinkled as he waited for my answer. I had to appreciate the fact that he respected my personal space. Hesitantly, I took his hand, and his other hand gently, but firmly clasped my back. The physical contact and closeness sent a warm tingling sensation down my spine. I was terrified, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. “Just let me lead you,” he whispered in my ear. His words sent a chill down to my thighs. “Two steps back, and two steps to the right…” he instructed with whispered authority. I followed his lead, and he kept that handsome smile on his face. “You follow directions well.” He observed. “I really don’t,” I laughed. At that moment, I lost my momentum and stepped on his perfectly polished leather shoes. “Yes, I see what you mean,” he teased. “Is this even a real dance?” “I don’t know. I’m just making it up as I go.” He smirked. He suddenly turned and dipped me. I gasped, not expecting the bold move. “Too much?” He asked with the ever-present grin on his face. “No,” I laughed. “Do it again.” He repeated the move and I felt my body dip back, and another giggle escaped my lips. This man was exhilarating. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol in my system, but I was thoroughly enjoying every

minute with him. His hand remained firmly clasped against my back as he straightened my posture, and my heart thrummed heavily within my ribcage as my body was pressed against his solid torso. His muscles were solid beneath his black tuxedo, and his hold on me was strong, yet gentle. “You have a beautiful voice,” he complimented, still refusing to tear his gaze from mine. I smiled slightly, and looked away. “Nobody was meant to hear that!” “Why not?” “I don’t like to sing in front of anyone.” His expression was serious as he studied me, perplexed. “Please tell me you don’t waste that talent.” “I used to sing all the time, when I was a kid. But I don’t want to talk about that,” I responded. “I do sing for my little sisters when I tuck them in bed at night, but I’ll trust you with that little secret.” I grinned. “Ah, your secret is safe with me.” He removed his hand from my back and pressed it over his heart. “You have my word.” I laughed again as I tucked a strand of black hair behind my ear. I turned my direction toward the painting of the horses on the beach. His gaze turned toward the direction in which I was looking. “Do you like art?” “It’s free expression. What’s not to like?” I asked. “What do you think of this one? Do you like art?” I asked him as I pointed toward the painting which caught my eye the most. The masked man stared at the painting for a moment, hesitantly. “It’s alright. I suppose. I don’t get much time to appreciate art these days.” “But if you could, would you-” I began asking the question, but his cell phone vibrated from the inside pocket of his tuxedo. “Yes?” He answered the phone politely, and cast me a tight-lipped, apologetic smile. “No, tonight might not be the best idea,” he answered, and I could hear the faint complaint of a woman’s voice. “Now is not a good time. I will call you tomorrow,” he answered with quiet authority. “Of course, I’ll tell you when. Good night.” “Girlfriend?” I asked once the call ended. “No,” he answered as he returned the phone to his inside pocket. He noted my suspicious expression and shook his head slightly. “You need to relax. If I had a girlfriend, I would be with her at the party.” He looked at me calmly for a moment, because I wore my trust issues on my sleeve. I thought he was going to say something serious, but instead, he only smiled and held out his hand to me. “Let’s not ruin the evening with presumptuous thoughts.” He’s right, it’s not like I’ll ever see him again after tonight, I reminded myself. With a smile, I took his hand with the intention of enjoying the rest of the evening. He was a lot of fun. His fingers wrapped around mine firmly and he pulled me close to his body. “I have just one request,” he said in a low voice as my body was pulled tightly against his. I let out a breath, silently predicting what his request would be… He stared down at me, his green eyes assessing keenly. Very slowly, as though he was testing his boundaries, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. Against my better judgment, I kissed him in return. I was shocked by how eager I was… and it only fueled the intensity of his kiss. His mouth became hungry, and his fingers entwined in my hair. I gripped his shoulders, pulling him as closely to me as

physically possible. Heat flooded my body as one hand gripped my hair, and the other gripped my hip bone. He pressed me against the wall, rattling a framed painting on the wall. His tongue enveloped mine and I welcomed it. I was in a trance, enraptured, consumed with heat. The light scent of his cologne and the taste of his tongue fogged my mind. His hands gripped both my hips, planting me firmly against the wall and I moaned into his mouth. “Goddamn,” he whispered amidst nibbling on my lower lip. I felt the solid, thick bulge beneath his black pants grind against my pelvic bone. It could have been the drinks I had earlier, but I never felt such a strong, intense connection like this. “Do you want this?” His whisper tickled my ear before he trailed hot kisses down the nape of my neck. They left a tingling, pleasurable path straight to the area between my thighs. “Yes, please…” “You want me to fuck you… I know exactly what you need. Let me give it to you.” “Yes… please…” My phone began to vibrate within the silk clutch across the room, but my mind was clouded with lust. “Say it.” The command was strong in my ear, and then he pulled away and stared me directly in the eyes. There was a lust in his eyes that I’d never seen in anyone before. “I want to hear it.” “Please… I want you to fuck-” My phone began vibrating again, and I knew it had to be an emergency if the caller was this incessant. The mystery man knew my thoughts and pulled away. “Go answer that. I’ll wait.” I let out a strained breath and nearly lost my balance as I crossed the room. Jillian’s name was displayed on the screen and I assumed she was probably checking on me. I felt like I’d just run a marathon and my hands fumbled with the cell phone as I brought it to my ears. “Hey babe,” I answered, trying to calm my breathing. “Hey… are you okay?” She asked. “Yes,” it was the best answer I could manage. I glanced over at the man as he made his way over to me, and wrapped his arms around my waist. A rush swept over me and I was distracted for a moment. Stop, I mouthed to him, but my face was pink and I bit back the giggle on the edge of my voice. He only smirked beneath his mask. Still, I noted the pain in Jillian’s voice on the other end of the phone. “Where are you?” Jillian asked. “I need to leave. Please, can I stay at your place?” Her voice was choked. His hand brushed up my waist, and then cupped one of my breasts in a very firm grasp. I gasped and it took all my willpower to move away from him. “Yeah… sweetie, what happened?” She proceeded to tell me that she had a fight with her date, her boyfriend- whatever he was at the time. A fierce hand suddenly grabbed me from behind. I gasped and bit my lip. “I said stop,” I whispered with a playful, warning glare. I returned my focus back to Jillian, and before I knew it, she was crying over the phone. This was new, the girl never cried for anyone. I assured her that I would meet her where she was and we could take a taxi back into the city. I had no clue how to manage my way around this huge house, but I was hoping Mr. Mysterious could help me find her. I ended the call and looked up at him. By now, he had another shot of scotch in his glass. “You really need to calm down with the drink,” I suggested as I pocketed the phone within my clutch. He ignored my comment with a question. “Everything alright?”

“My friend needs me. I’m sorry but I have to go.” “Not a problem. I’ll see you again and we’ll make up for lost time.” There was a darkness in his eyes and despite the circumstances, it fueled the dull ache between my thighs. A knock at the door suddenly interrupted our heated moment. The door opened, and a member of the waitstaff appeared. Mr. Mysterious immediately put distance between us and smoothed himself, but the moment was extremely awkward as the waitress from the party below glanced between the two of us. Finally she spoke. “Mr. Rochester, Senator Trammell has been looking for you,” she informed with hesitance in her voice. What?! I looked to the masked man I had been kissing. This was like a scene from a bad romance movie. “Thank you. Please tell him I will see him shortly.” My mind was reeling. Oh my God. No, not him. Please let it not be him… The waitress left and then Jackson removed his mask and looked down at me. “Surprise.” He gave me a tight-lipped smile. Without a word, he pulled my black feathered mask from my face and his gaze seemingly bore holes into my soul. “Oh my God,” I blurted out loud. “I can’t believe this.” My heart dropped to my stomach, fluttering violently. My mind became dizzy with thoughts, and all I could do was sound like a blubbering idiot. “I can’t believe I almost… Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” “Let’s not get hung up on double standards. You didn’t tell me who you were either, Ms. Mendez.” Despite that half-grin, he called me by my name. Dread spread through my veins. My solid plan to stay away from Jackson Rochester was completely foiled. Beyond ruined. He actually knew who I was… I can’t let myself get close to him. He could ruin me. “I... “ I had a thought, but it left me as soon as I opened my mouth. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” What the hell was I thinking? My nerves got the best of me and I pushed past him as I fled from the room. At that moment, my phone rang within the silk clutch. I crossed the room to grab it, and saw Jillian’s name light up the screen. The remainder of that evening was a blur of events and I did everything I could to stay away from Jackson Rochester. The less he saw me, the less attention I would draw from him, and the less he could know about me and my history...

Present Day… I’ll never forget that kiss and I still think about it almost every day. I always thought that such a fiery connection was just a fantasy. I never imagined it could actually exist. In my mind, such a captivating connection could only be made in the romance books I read. I stopped believing in love a long time ago, and I’m afraid to get close to anyone in a realistic setting, but I live vicariously through the fictitious characters. I ordered a gin and tonic and glanced back in the direction which I found Jackson, and saw that he was gone. I glanced around, looking for him, but didn’t spot him anywhere. I was disappointed and relieved. I was beginning to annoy myself and quickly took the drink when it was offered, and returned to my seat with Jillian and Mason. The speaker had by then finished, and dinner was served. A fluid jazz melody played during dinner and I downed the contents of my glass. I found myself involuntarily searching for Jackson and his bimbo, but I couldn’t spot them anywhere in the room. I tried to not dwell on what they would be doing once this event was over. Once the meal was finished, couples began dancing on the polished marble floor. Jillian and Mason disappeared too, so I was left alone for a while. I returned to the bar station, promising myself that this would be the last, final drink for the evening. A few couples complimented my speech and asked me about my mentorship work with the youth center. It was refreshing to answer their questions and see that they were genuinely interested in the cause. “I”m going to write a check for twenty thousand,” the wife said with a painted smile. “Thank you. Every bit of help counts. That money will go a long way,” I answered. As they walked away I overheard the wife say to her husband, “I can’t wait to tell the ladies at brunch that I wrote a check for twenty thousand. I think that beats out Marcia. don’t you?” “Yes, dear.” Okay, then. I turned with my drink in hand and my face was met with a solid chest. The light, spicy scent of cologne smelled of masculinity and sex. Without looking up, I already knew who had creeped up behind me. A ribbon of excitement uncurled within me, and my hormones were already raging. My response to this man is alarming, but I feigned disinterest. “Ouch. You don’t seem happy to see me.” He smirked, obviously very amused by my reaction. Actually, I was excited to see him, but I kept my gaze away from him, because the sight of him was too delicious and tempting. “I’m just wondering where your date is.” I replied. He only responded with a smile that sent a rush of heat flooding south. “She’s not important.” He spoke directly as he took the glass from my hand and set it on the bar station. “How about a dance, Elyse Mendez?” He asked, taking my hand before I could give the word. “Isn’t that what your date is for?” I asked. He pulled me against his chest tightly in such a domineering way, it surprised me. “You seem awfully fixated on my date this evening. I’d hate to think you’re jealous, given our history.” Ice. That’s what I felt when he mentioned the word history. I closed my eyes momentarily to collect myself. “I don’t get jealous. I have nothing to be jealous of.” I opened my eyes and looked up at him, and was met with a disbelieving, wry grin. He guided my body in fluid motion onto the dance floor. I kept my hands stiffly, lightly touching the black jacket of his tux. I didn’t realize how rigid I was against him until he took my hand and placed it on his shoulder. Then he wrapped his arm tightly around my waist. “Relax. You have eyes on you even if you don’t realize it,” he whispered in my ear.

“It doesn’t matter. They all see me as a charity case.” I raised an eyebrow as I stared him directly in the eyes. “They still want to be able to relate to you in some way. If you appear uncomfortable in their world, they’ll lose interest.” He smiled. “I don’t think I need to worry what any of these people think about me,” I answered. Jackson shook his head as he stared down at me. “I think you worry very much what other people think about you.” I would have paused, staring up at him, but he kept us moving. I was intrigued, but felt my defenses flaring. “Oh really? And what do you think of me?” He kept my body pressed firmly against his. I wouldn’t be able to push away if I wanted to. The scent of him was intoxicating, paired with the strong muscles in his chest and those biceps… lord help me. I just wanted to bury my face against him and kiss the heated skin beneath his expensive shirt. I could feel the strength even through the well-fitted fabric of his tuxedo. To make matters worse, he leaned forward and whispered in my ear. He only tightened his grip on my back, if that was even possible, and I felt his warm breath on the nape of my neck. The connection was a current of energy, a magnetic force drawing me to him and it was just as strong as it was that night he found me in the empty room at his estate. It terrified me beyond words, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. “I think beneath that cool, defensive exterior is a woman with a big heart. You try to convince everyone that you can take on the world, but the reality is that you’re just as sensitive as the rest of us.” I swallowed hard. He put some space between us and stared at me with an intensity that I haven’t seen since that night at the masked ball. “I think you want me to take you home tonight, and worship your body. You want to writhe on my bed, tingling with pleasure you can’t even comprehend as I kiss my way up your thighs and suck that sweet, tight little pussy.” My breath shuddered against him as he whispered this statement. The room was sweltering. “You imply that I’m a cheap slut.” I finally managed the words. “No. I’m implying that I can give you the treatment you crave, what you deserve. I can unravel you like no other man knows how. You know you want it.” I closed my eyes. What would it feel like to have my thighs wrapped around this man, feeling him thrusting deep inside? My imagination was vivid for that fleeting second and sensing my desire, he took my hand and pressed it against the long, thick and firm bulge pushing against the inside of his black slacks. Holy mother of… “God! Jackson! We’re in public!” I hissed, looking around quickly to see if anyone was watching. He only smirked. “That’s half the fun, gorgeous.” His breath was a hushed whisper against my neck. “Tell me this doesn’t trigger your imagination. You want to know what my cock can do to your tight cunt. Play with me.” I couldn’t believe I was going along with this, but it was so fucking hot. I’ve never done anything this brazen in public, but it sent another rush of adrenaline straight to my panties and I was soaked. All he had to do was ask, and I would have gone home with him at that moment. I slid my fingers along the tented outline of his cock, squeezing, and watched him close his eyes for a second, before they shot open and he stared down at me with such a feral hunger. My heart fluttered violently within my chest before it skipped a beat. I wanted to see the muscled contours of his entire body fully exposed, ready and wanting me. Only me. “Am I interrupting something?” An irritated voice interrupted us. We both paused and looked over at the leggy blonde who stood there, her blue eyes traveled down to my hand, which was still wrapped around the bulge in his pants. The entire mood came crashing down, and a pang stung my chest. I pulled my hand away so fast, I

could have given my arm whip lash. This is a solid reminder why I don’t trust myself around Jackson. I nearly forgot that he already had a date at this event. He probably already made plans for her in his bed. I felt like a moron. I gave the blonde at his side a blank stare. “He’s all yours.” This man has the power to break my heart into thousands of pieces and crush me in every way imaginable. I can’t. I won’t. I fled from the room, careful not to lose my heels like goddamn Cinderella.



SCREAMS ECHOED THROUGH the paper thin walls of my tiny apartment. My estranged roommate was having another fight with her boyfriend. “I hate you! Get out!” She hollered. Glass shattered in the next room, and I assumed she had thrown something at him. If I didn’t know any better, I would have intervened or called the police. This is just a typical Thursday for me, though. I’ve been living in this apartment for a year now, and all I know about my roommate is that her name is Michelle, she works at a strip joint down the block, and has a constant love-hate relationship with her boyfriend, Al. The shouting caused a few neighborhood dogs to bark and a car alarm bellowed from the street below. It’s no wonder why I’m so tired all the time. I slipped on my gray hoodie and zipped it up my neck and then checked the time on my cell phone before I left the apartment. The hall just outside my apartment was narrow with an old green carpet that should have been replaced more than thirty years ago and it smelled of old beer¸ cigarettes and sweat. No, wait. That smell was coming from the building landlord, Burt. As I locked the door, I braced myself for what was coming. “Hey beautiful. It sounds like there’s a war going on in there.” He slouched against the wall as he leered at my body. I didn’t look at him. “Yeah, my roommate is having another fight with her man. Speaking of, can you please talk to them about the noise? I tried, but she doesn’t listen.” I fixated on my flip phone, even though I felt his lecherous gaze on me. “I’ll talk to her,” he answered nonchalantly, and straightened his stature. I knew it was a deliberate attempt to invade my personal space. I relocated myself a few inches to the left as I placed my keys in my bag. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” He followed me as I walked down the hall. “I gotta raise the rent. You know how times are.” “Seriously?” I looked at him. “I can barely afford the rent as it is.” I’d gladly donate to his water bill if he would actually use it to shower… “But listen, I’m willing to work something out between us if you know what I mean.” He winked. Ugh. Gross. “Burt, that’s called sexual harassment.” I snapped. “Fine. But I’m raising the rent by a hundred bucks!” “Not until the month is up!” I quipped over my shoulder as I left him in the hall. I rushed down the wooden staircase and inhaled deeply once I was on the dirty sidewalk. Taxis honked, people shouted from across the street, and as I took in a deep breath, I also took in a lungful of cigarette smoke and

exhaust. Still, the smell was better than the odor of my landlord. I have got to get the hell out of here, and that’s why I have this interview. I ran down the sidewalk, dodging and weaving through the crowds toward the bus stop. I arrived at the bus, breathless, just as it was about to pull away. I knew my hair was a crazy mess. I took several gulps of air once I found a seat on the bus. Suddenly my phone buzzed with an incoming message. I smiled as I glanced down and saw the message was from Jillian. Jillian: Good luck! Call me when it’s over! Xxx Once my breathing was even, I managed to send her an answer Me: You know I will babe. I’m so nervous… Jillian: You’ll be fine. You got this! I spent the remainder of the bus ride smoothing my black hair. I studied my reflection in the tiny compact mirror and applied a red gloss to my lips. I felt like a sweaty mess and my hair was impossibly frizzy from my run down the block. I had to ace this interview; my current financial independence relied on whether I got this job. The bus pulled to a stop in Soho and I stepped off. The sidewalks were cleaner and smoother. The people seemed happier at the cafes and boutiques that lined the sidewalks. I took several deep breaths as I paced in the opposite direction from which the bus arrived. Remember you’re only as strong as you appear to them, I reminded myself over and over again as I neared my destination. It’s time to put my walls back up. I held my chin up and let a cool expression mask my face. I hoped my facade was enough to hide the rampant beating of my heart. I stopped in front of a beautiful gray stone building with intricate square detailing in the exterior. Fancy globe lanterns decorated the stone wall, and a plush red carpet with gold railings led up to the double wooden doors. I looked up to the fancy sign that hung above the doors: Stella Notte After a few deep breathing exercises, I entered the front lobby of the exclusive piano bar. I had answered an advertisement in the classifieds section of the New York Times. They were seeking a waitress and a lounge singer. I can do both, I assured myself. I haven’t sung for an audience in years, but the money was promising and I needed it. “Do you have a resume?” A woman in a crisp white button-down and black tie asked me once I checked in. “Yes,” I answered as I stood at a small rounded desk in one of the back rooms behind the main floor. I handed her a single sheet of paper with my work and volunteer experience typed neatly. Jillian helped me carefully type up my resume and make it look as marketable as possible. The woman positioned her designer frames on her face and skimmed my resume. I watched as a thin, graying eyebrow was raised, and she cast me a disapproving glance before her eyes returned to my resume. My experience consisted of nothing more than work in coffee shops and my volunteer experience at the East Village Youth Center. There are gaps in my employment, from times when I fell away from my path and made mistakes. I cringed inwardly as the judgment was etched all over her wrinkled face. “I’ve been in and out of school,” I stated smoothly. That was only the partial truth, but her expression seemed to relax when I said this. “Do you play an instrument, Miss… Mendez?” The woman asked pointedly. “No, but the ad said nothing about an instrument.” I felt my defenses flaring up, and I tried to keep myself calm. “We are looking for a waitress who can also act as a musician. Someone who can uphold the standards set by this establishment. We cater to high-end clients, Miss Mendez. The money is paying for well-

rounded employees.” “I can sing,” I answered. It was the best response I could muster without losing my cool with this haughty bitch. Inside, I felt my insecurities consume me. I glanced around at some of the other applicants. They were mainly college girls like me, very pretty, sleek, and nervous. They sat in the the leather arm chairs that lined the walls in the small back room. The woman gave me one last unimpressed look, and then handed me my resume. She didn’t seem convinced, but luckily, employee choices were not up to her. She was only checking us in, and ensuring that we fill out the applications. “Have a seat, and your name will be called soon.” “Thank you,” I answered and smoothed my dress pants as I looked for an empty chair. I found one next to a woman who was busy texting on her cell phone. She paid me no mind as I sat beside her. I silently studied the other young women who were here for the same job. They all wore dresses, heels and their makeup was perfect. Their hair was flawless. This was my competition, and I suddenly regretted not wearing a dress for this job interview. Jillian offered to let me borrow one of her designer outfits for the interview. “I might spill something on it,” I made up a lame excuse and she only rolled her eyes. “Let me buy you something to wear to the interview then!” She beamed as we looked through her gigantic walk-in closet. “You know I don’t need help,” I mumbled. That part was true. I’ve made it this far on my own, but the real truth was that I didn’t feel comfortable wearing dresses in my neighborhood, not in my apartment building around Burt. I didn’t tell her that or she and her husband would have demanded that I move out of my apartment building immediately. I’m working on that, I thought to myself. “Elyse Mendez?” A pleasant looking woman with a tight blonde bun greeted me at the doorway. I looked up from my lap, realizing that it was my name being called. She gave me a warm smile. “This way, please.” She gestured toward the hall. Without a word, I stood and felt the eyes of the other applicants as I walked past them and left the back room. My nerves were getting the best of me, and I gripped my resume a bit too tightly, which roughly creased the edge. I followed her down the hall until we arrived at the back door to the main stage. It was only two o’clock in the afternoon and the piano bar was currently closed, and would be opening to the public at four o’clock for the evening hours. “Do you have a song ready?” The woman asked as she looked at me with kind brown eyes. “Yes…” I answered hesitantly. I hated singing; it brought back bad memories I didn’t want to think about. The money… I reminded myself. “Yes.” I repeated again with feigned confidence. “Wonderful,” she responded. “My name is Giselle. I manage the evening schedules with the bar’s employees. I’ll take your resume and you may enter the stage through this door. They are waiting for you.” She gave another polite smile as she gently retrieved the wrinkled paper in my hands. “They? Who’s they?” I called after her, but she didn’t hear me. Her fast-paced heels had already rounded the corner. “Now or never,” I murmured to myself, and I pushed through the door which led to the right side of the small stage. My palms were sweating and I shakily tucked a strand of black hair behind my ear as I turned the knob and I entered the right side of the stage. The door suddenly clicked behind me as it closed. It unsettled my nerves even more, and for a fleeting second, I wondered if I was cut out for this gig. I refused to allow

any negative memories resurface and I continued walking. I set my bag down by the exit before I walked to the center of the stage. The room was very dimly lit, but I could make out a splendid open-floor plan with expensive leather lounge chairs and sofas. A few figures sat on the round leather sofa directly in front of the small stage. I wasn’t ready to look at my small audience of judges just yet. “Ms…Mendez?” I heard a male voice directly in front of me. “Yes. Elyse Mendez.” “Do you have a song prepared?” “Yes.” The only song I had prepared was one I sang to my little sisters at night as I tucked them in. The only reason I had this song prepared was because they begged me to sing it every time I saw them. They’re six and eight. They’re my only audience because I don’t enjoy singing in front of anyone else. “Well, whenever you’re ready…” The man sitting in front of me seemed young, somewhat attractive, but too preppy for my taste. He wore an emerald sweater and navy dress pants. I wasn’t expecting the lounge managers to look or dress like him. I took a deep breath. I was getting cold feet, stage fright- whatever it’s called. “There is a line of other applicants behind you, who also require interviews and auditions. If you’re not ready-” The doors in the far back beside the exquisite bar suddenly swung open. An impeccably dressed man made strong, swift strides across the main floor. My heart palpitated in my chest, registering his presence before my eyes even fell on him. I don’t even need to look at him; my body always responds automatically to his presence. I took note of the black pants, and the crisp white button-down which was left partially unbuttoned at the top. The sleeves were rolled, exposing the strong contours of his forearms. Oh shit. Shit. Shit. It can’t be… my body was already responding. My mouth went dry, and I momentarily forgot why I was standing on this stage. Jackson. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?” The man in the emerald sweater looked up at me, mildly irritated. I couldn’t take my eyes off Jackson Rochester as he stood and glared down at the man, who continued to recline on the leather sofa. “That will be all, Marcus. We’ll discuss this later this evening in my office.” “What for? I came to watch the show. Have you seen the beauties who applied for the position? Just take a look at this one.” The man, Marcus, gestured toward me as his expression turned from mildly irritated to amused. “I clearly stated ‘tonight.’ If you cannot follow my orders, I’ll show you to the door myself.” Jackson towered over the man, and seemingly bore holes into him. His presence alone radiated a command for attention. My attention. I tried to banish that thought as I continued to witness the stare-down between Jackson and this man, who remained seated on the leather sofa. I remained stiff, silent and rigid on the stage for those few seconds, which seemed to pass by in slow motion. I need to get the fuck out of his lounge, I reminded myself, but I couldn’t move. It’s like my feet were cemented to the stage. I watched pervy Marcus exit the lounge, claiming he only wanted a little fun, but Jackson wasn’t having any of it. Jackson’s gaze was also fixated in the direction of his friend, ensuring he left and didn’t return unwelcomed. That’s when I found my footing and turned to slip out quietly. I knew he didn’t want someone like me working in his uppity lounge, serving premium liquor that I couldn’t dream of affording myself, and singing to clients who threw money around like it’s sprinkles on a cupcake. “Elyse Mendez,” the loud voice was suave and charming, but echoed in the empty room.

I stopped mid-step and turned slowly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was your lounge.” Seriously? What a stupid thing to say. He flashed me a grin that could singe my panties. “I know. I want to apologize about my friend. Actually, he’s not really a friend. He’s a colleague from Dartmouth. I wasn’t expecting him to drop by.” “He definitely made things sufficiently awkward, but you didn’t do anything wrong. Thank you for stepping in.” I answered, still planted on the stage, praying silently that he wouldn’t ask me to sing. “Always. Anytime.” His searing stare made me squirm. He reverted his eyes back to the paper in his hand. My resume. “He’s an asshole. I’ve always wanted to deck him.” His eyes flickered back up to me, who still stood there like an idiot on the stage. “Maybe one of these days you’ll get your chance,” I said with a stiff smile, and finally turned to exit the stage. “I should go. This was a bad idea.” He let me take a few steps and then stopped me. “Wait.” The simple word was a command, and silly me, I halted in my steps. I didn’t see his face, but I sensed that he was quite pleased and humored at how quickly I obeyed. Silently, I cursed myself. He approached me after retrieving my bag from the far corner of the stage. He held it out to me, and our fingers brushed as I took the bag. Tingles erupted within me, and flooded down south. I clenched my thighs and offered him a polite smile, trying to hide the sensations I felt from such a simple, slight contact. I tried to suppress my innermost desires which were suddenly boiling over in his presence. “I take it you don’t want an audition.” “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “I never want any of my employees to feel like fresh meat on that stage. I sincerely apologize for that. I’ll remember to break his nose next time I see him.” I pursed my lips, knowing I should leave, but stalling to stay with him all at once. “You don’t have to do that. Don’t spoil your connections on my account.” He gave a grin as he blatantly examined me, then held his hand out to me. “I’ll give you a ride back to your apartment-” I opened my mouth to object, but he didn’t let me speak. “I have business in that area of the city.” He winked. Mr. Charming was certainly working his bag of tricks on me. “Please allow me to take you home, and then I'll leave you alone.” He said as he noted my hesitation. His limo took us into my run-down neighborhood. I cringed inwardly when I passed the bars that protected the shop windows. Graffiti decorated the brick walls of the buildings along the dirty streets. My face flamed. The sight of my disheveled neighborhood never phased me before. Hell, I’ve lived in worse, but sitting beside this expensively suited man made me feel humiliated about my street. I don’t even let Jillian visit. The car slowed to a stop along the curb in front of the ragged brick building that housed my apartment. He assessed the building with scrutiny. “You live here? The building needs repair.” “My apologies. Not everyone lives in mansions and penthouses.” I gave him a dry look. I suddenly felt defensive. “I understand that,” he responded to my irritated look with a grin. “I’m expressing concern because the structure seems a bit unsteady.” He pointed a finger toward the eroding brick on one corner, by the second floor window. I twisted the handle of my bag between my fingers. “Well, thanks for bringing me home.” “It’s not a problem. Do you mind if I come upstairs?” He asked. His green eyes held my attention in a scorching stare. “No. Yes,” I answered. I didn’t trust myself alone with him. Not only that, but I couldn’t let him see the

inside of my cramped apartment. “Relax, Elyse. I won’t try anything. I fully intend on seducing you, but I’ll do it in a more appropriate atmosphere.” His grin was panty-melting and I fidgeted slightly. “By appropriate, you mean at a public charity event, in front of your date?” His smile faded. “I apologize for that. I should have waited until I had you alone for the night.” I narrowed my eyes, but I was a little amused by his confession that he intends to seduce me. Why, I don’t know. I tried to avoid him for two years because I knew he was a playboy who can never know about my past. His presence is magnetic though, and I didn’t want him to leave. “I only want to talk,” he added. I licked my lips as my mouth suddenly felt dry again. He only stared at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn him down. “On second thought, let me treat you to lunch,” he gave another grin. I pursed my lips. My heart palpitated with conflict, and I couldn’t hide my smile. “It’s a little late for lunch, don’t you think?” “I haven’t eaten yet. Have you?” I thought about my lack of groceries in the fridge. I’ve had a serious problem with Al eating everything I buy. “Come along,” he held his hand out to me and I stared at it for a moment before I hesitantly took it. His fingers curled around mine in a firm grasp, and it sent a warm energy through my body. “There’s a diner around the corner,” I commented as I pointed in the direction of the way we should go. “Joe’s. I’ve been there a few times,” Jackson grinned as he kept the insistent grip on my hand. “Since when are you in this end of Manhattan?” I asked with a quizzical glance. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about him. “Now that’s a conversation we can save for our second date,” he smirked. “Whoa. I never said this was a date. I’m just in it for the free food.” A laugh escaped me as I looked up at him with a teasing grin. “Right.” He glanced down at me with an intense stare, and a trace of a smirk. His hand went to my lower back as his other held the glass door open for me. In that moment, all I could think about was the way his hands might feel while they masterfully possessed me.

“SO I’M GOING TO take a wild guess and say you’re originally from Queens.” Jackson grinned as we sat across from each other in a fifties style booth. “Astute observation. What gave that away?” “I’m keen like that,” he teased. “Why did you want to have lunch with me?” I asked as the waitress placed our plates on the table. We ordered burgers with the works and I was ready to dive in. He was amused as he watched me take the first bite. “What?” I asked as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Nothing at all,” he answered with a smirk. “Normally, when I treat a woman to dinner, they nibble on rabbit food.” “Well this isn’t dinner, and I’m not normal.” “I’m aware.”

We stared at each other for a moment and then I laughed. He returned a half-grin before he took a bite of his own burger. We ate in silence for a few minutes. “Thank you for this, by the way,” I said after taking a sip from my iced tea. He only smiled, but the domineering air about him never wavered. “I want to talk about your non-existent audition earlier.” He stated without hesitation. I was mid-chew when he said this and I had to force myself to swallow. “There’s nothing to talk about. I got cold feet. I realized it was a bad idea.” I took another sip from my iced tea. “And why is that?” His gaze held mine. Because my response to you frightens me… I’m afraid I’ll lose control. I’m afraid you’ll find out.... I couldn’t tell him that much. He changed the topic when he realized I couldn’t answer him. “I think it’s interesting that your best friend is married to a very successful businessman who owns an exclusive hotel chain, and you’re not enjoying the benefits of their money. Most people would jump at the chance.” I pursed my lips. “I’m not most people. I can make my own way. I’ve done it for twenty-four years. I don’t need help from anybody. I’m not going to be someone’s charity case.” Every now and then, this topic resurfaces. Six months ago, Jill and her husband tried to buy me a condo. I couldn’t bring myself to accept the gift. Everything I’ve received in life came with strings attached. Jackson only watched me silently for several moments. It was full of scrutiny and was intimidating. Internally, I was squirming slightly. At that moment, The Beatles began playing from an old juke box. It’s been so long since I heard that song, Get By With A Little Help From My Friends. The timing of that song was way too creepy. “Every time I accepted help from someone in the past, they expected something in return- sometimes it was something I couldn’t repay and at times I was given grief about it. Even some of the foster families I lived with reminded me what a burden I was and they got a check from the state-” Whoa. Too much information. “And you think Jillian would do that?” I rolled my eyes, even though he made a very good point. “Don’t do that.” “What?” “Roll your eyes. Don’t do that. Look at me when I talk to you.” His tone was gentle, but assertive. If it had been anyone else, I might have come up with a retort, but in that moment, I lost my sass. “I want my own life. I don’t want to live through anyone.” It was the best explanation I could come up with, and an honest one. Jackson looked at me for a moment, but I could tell by the expression on his face he wasn’t buying everything I said. “You want financial independence. I can give that to you. I want you-” I blinked as I listened to his every word. “-to come sing in my lounge. I pay all of my employees very well, full benefits.” “But I never auditioned,” I answered with a slight smile. “You did, two years ago. Have you forgotten that night already?” Jackson asked as he studied my face. There was a fire in his eyes and it was enough to heat my blood. Memories of that night flooded through me. “You have the voice of an angel, and you’re the one I want.” Tempting. Oh, so tempting… would it really be so bad if I went to work for him? “I’ll honestly think about it.”

He nodded and we ate in silence for a few more minutes. “Jillian mentioned you recently connected with your father. That’s good to hear.” There was nothing apologetic about his tone, or the fact that his statement might be a little intrusive. I set my burger down. “Yeah, a few years ago. I had a little talk with my mom and she told me the name of my dad. I looked him up on Facebook and I hesitated for about a year before I actually met him. On a whim, I showed up on his doorstep in Harlem. He never even knew about my existence. It was really awkward, but he has two little girls with his wife and I love them to pieces.” I shrugged. “Sorry, I’m rambling.” I was speaking quickly, nervously, afraid he’d ask too many questions. I didn’t want to go into detail about the one time I visited her in prison. The car accident involving his family had me gutted. My throat was suddenly parched, and I sipped my tea. “I don’t mind,” he commented as he popped a fry into his mouth. He seemed genuinely interested. “Do you enjoy singing?” Yes and no. “I love music, all different kinds. I like to sing in the shower,” I joked as I tried to ease my aching heart,“but I don’t really like to sing in front of people. When I was a kid, my mom made me sing on street corners and people would give us money so she could feed her addiction problems. Her friend was a voice coach and gave me lessons for a little while, but then he tried to organize an intervention and that’s when she handed me over to the State.” Holy fuck. WHY am I telling him this much? I clammed up immediately and sucked down my iced tea. His eyes were narrowed, but not in judgment; he was listening intently. “Um. So tell me about your … family. Your sister. You have a sister, right?” What. The. Fuck. In my attempt to derail the conversation, I was only making the topics worse. His reaction was not what I expected. The crackling connection I’d felt between us in the booth suddenly died. The air went stale. “Yes. I have a twin sister. I believe you’ve both met on several occasions. Tell me more about you-I’m much more interested in you.” “I already spilled half my life,” I answered. Jackson’s cell phone suddenly rang and he pulled it from the pocket of his pants. “Kim, how are things?” His tone was polished and straightforward. I watched him as he listened to the person on the other end. Our eyes met, and something flickered behind the depths of his green eyes. It fueled the burning heat within me. He nodded. “Tell them I will be there in fifteen minutes. Thank you.” He ended the call. “I’m sorry. My assistant at the firm is facing some trouble with a very demanding client. I’ll have to cut our lunch short.” He pulled out his leather wallet and slipped me his business card, before throwing some bills on the table. “I apologize, but you’ll call me within two days with an answer about my offer.” That wasn’t a question. He was hurried as he made swift strides away from the booths, pausing momentarily to allow an elderly man with a cane to walk past him. He held the door open for the elderly man and smiled with that same air of politeness and authority, before he was gone from sight. I sucked in a deep breath, attempting to collect myself. I stared at the perfect rectangular, white card. His name was etched in neat black script, along with the name of JRP, Inc.. and all of his contact information. I smiled to myself as I studied the card.



AFTER MY “MEETING” with Jackson, I returned to the apartment and was relieved to find it quiet. It was alarming that I was more disappointed than relieved that he had to leave so soon. Still, I was sure he would find someone else to fill the spot. There are hundreds of aspiring actresses and singers in Manhattan, and he would have no trouble finding another lounge singer and waitress. I was starting to forget why I had been avoiding Jackson. I pursed my lips in thought but no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get him out of my head. That kiss. It always haunts me. The job and pay he offered me was tempting, but I’ve made too many mistakes in the past. Our history criss-crosses in such a terrible way, I’m afraid to let him know me. My cell phone tore me from my thoughts when it began ringing. I grabbed it and saw Jillian’s name on the screen. “Hey J.” I greeted. “Hi Ly! Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m just tired. I’ve had a real shitty day.” I lie on my back and stared up at the ceiling as I spoke into my phone. “Did you know that the piano bar I applied to belongs to Jackson?” “Really? I thought you applied to the lounge on Madison Avenue?” “No, it’s the one called Stella Notte,” I answered. “And it’s in SoHo.” “Oh.” Her voice trailed. “I honestly had no idea. I swear I would have told you if I had known it was his bar. He doesn’t really talk about his piano bar that much anymore. He’s all about his night club these days.” I heard the babbling of a baby in the background, and I had to smile. “How’s my girl?” “She’s getting so big. I’m exhausted. She has been waking up every three hours this entire week.” “I need to see her soon. I’m having Julia withdrawal issues. Oh, and Celia and Valentina have been asking to see her.” I smiled as I mentioned my sisters. “Meet us at the park on Saturday!” Jill said with a smile in her voice. “I have the girls on Saturday, so that sounds like a plan.” “Great! Oh, are you still coming to dinner on Saturday night? We can make a whole day of it. I also have something I wanted to ask you.” I squeezed my eyes shut. I had completely forgotten about the dinner at Jackson’s estate in New Rochelle. Jackson’s estate, of all places. His twin sister, Piper, planned the dinner party to celebrate Jillian’s one-year anniversary with her husband. “I'll be staying overnight with the girls. My dad is taking Sarah on a trip to a vineyard.” I knew Jillian wasn’t going to buy that lame excuse. “That’s okay, bring them with you. They’ll be a great distraction from you-know-who.” I grabbed a pillow and pressed it over my face momentarily. It was alarming how I was quietly

thrilled at the thought of seeing him again… I felt like I was losing all sense of control over myself. “Yeah… I’ll be there. I’ll bring Celia and Valentina with me. They’ll be so excited. What did you want to ask me?” “Well..” Jillian started speaking, and her voice grew with excitement. “Mason surprised me with a trip for our one-year anniversary! He’s taking us on a tour of the Mediterranean!” “Wow, J. That’s so sweet of him.” I was genuinely excited for her, but couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have that sort of luxury. “Yes! So…I was wondering if you can stay at the penthouse and keep the dog company? It would be a break from creepy Burt. We’ll make sure the fridge is fully stocked and Mason said that he’ll leave some money for you to pick up groceries. He said you’re not allowed to say ‘no.’” “How considerate of him,” I grinned. “So you want me to babysit and house sit for how long?” “No, just stay at the penthouse and take care of Gemma. Mason wants to take the baby with us.” I sat up. “Seriously? Why?” “We’re bringing Mrs. O’Malley with us.” Jillian explained, mentioning their housekeeper. “So if you’re willing to hang around the penthouse for two weeks, I’d love you forever.” “Please. You already love me. Of course I’ll help you out- and not because you live in a multi milliondollar penthouse with free food and free cable. I’d do it even if you lived in a run-down shack.” Jillian laughed, and I smiled. “Great! I’ll let Mason know. You know how he is with his trust issues.” “Yup. I can relate. Tell him you can count on me. And I’ll see you both on Saturday.” “Okay. Thanks, Ly. Love you.” “Love you too, J.”



THE SUN WASN’T EVEN up before my phone rang next to my head on the empty pillow. It was still dark outside. Bleary-eyed, I felt around until I found the annoying device. “Hello?” I asked, still half-asleep. “Lissie!” I blinked, hearing my eight-year-old sister’s voice over the phone. She was amped and ready for the day. “Val?” I mumbled. “Oh my God, what time is it?” I rubbed my eyes. Saturday mornings are meant for sleeping, right? “It’s already six! We are packed and ready to go!” She stated this in her usual bossy tone. “Valentina, I’m not picking you up until ten o’clock. That’s still four hours away. Go back to bed.” “We’re already awake. I have you on speaker phone. Celia, tell Lissie hi!” She bossed through the phone. “Hi Lissie. Daddy said you are coming to our house today and you’re sleeping here too. Are we going to the park? Can we ride the carousel?” My six-year-old sister chimed in with a slight lisp. “We already ate breakfast! I made sure Celia ate a healthy breakfast.” Valentina stated in a matter-offact tone. “What did you eat?” I’m curious to know because it seems you both had four cups of coffee… “Pop tarts and fruit loops!” Celia announced. Bingo. Breakfast of champions. I was still trying to wake up and process everything they were throwing at me. They were hyper like it was Christmas morning. “Where’s dad and Sarah- um, your mom?” I asked, rubbing my eyes as I sat up. “Sleeping.” Valentina answered. “Daddy said we get to have dinner somewhere fancy tonight. Can we ride the carousel and feed the ducks today with Jilly?” “I’m so excited! I’m so excited! Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” Celia sang. I glanced at my digital clock, and noted that it only read 6:04. My alarm was supposed to go off in two hours. Two hours of precious sleep without blaring car alarms or a screaming roommate. “So can we ride the carousel and feed the ducks bread?” Celia asked, pausing her singing to ask me the question. Again. “You can’t feed the ducks bread, dummy. They can choke and die. They can only eat seeds and stuff like that.” Valentina argued. “I’m not a dummy! And I’ve seen ducks eat bread!” I held back a laugh, but it’s still too early for this. “Hey, knock it off.” I interrupted their sibling rivalry. “Yes to the ducks, maybe to the carousel. That depends if you go back to bed right now. Whoever goes to sleep right now gets first dibs on ice cream

later.” That worked like a charm and they quickly ended the call. I lay against my pillows, watching sunlight filter through the sheer curtains in my tiny bedroom. I started dozing off just as my alarm blared.

“HERE’S A BACKPACK WITH their things.” I watched my dad’s wife, Sarah, scramble around, trying to gather anything I might need for a weekend with her daughters. I stood in the cramped living room of their tiny rowhome in Harlem and surveyed the scattered toys and crumbs that were strewn across the carpet. It still looks cleaner than my bedroom at the moment. “I packed some extra juice boxes and snacks in case they get hungry and I figured you want pizza?” My dad’s wife spoke as she tried to tidy up in my presence and pack juice boxes and snack bags of pretzels at the same time. I don’t know what she thinks of me even though it was never my dad’s fault he wasn’t involved with my life when I was growing up. He didn’t even know about me. He and my mom were teenagers when I was born and I don’t know what happened, but she had me convinced that he didn’t want anything to do with me. It turns out, he didn’t even know I existed until I was twenty. “Where’s dad- Carlos?” I asked. I can’t explain it, but I feel strange calling him “dad” in her presence. He insists that I am a part of this family, but it’s incredibly strange and awkward. I didn’t grow up knowing these people, and they often speak Spanish in my presence. I don’t understand what they’re saying because my mom was too strung out to bother teaching me. I feel intrusive sometimes, like I’m invading their nice little family. I’ve been trying, and it helps that my little sisters adore me so much. They drive me nuts sometimes, but I’d take a bullet for them. “He has a quick job to do this morning and then we’ll head out,” Sarah answered with a stiff smile. She’s hard to read. I never know if she’s being polite or if she’s only tolerating me. “Come on, Lissie!” Celia pulled on my fingers. “You have fun. Let me know if you need anything!” Sarah called out as I was pulled toward the door by the strength of two little girls. “Okay thanks and don’t worry. I got this,” I smiled over my shoulder just before the door closed behind me. The girls dragged me by my hands all the way to the bus stop, and we met Jillian by the duck pond in the park. She was ready with a bag of chopped grapes, lettuce and frozen peas. “Aren’t you prepared?” I teased my best friend as my sisters ran to hug her. Jillian kept one hand on the stroller, which cradled her sleeping four-month-old daughter as she hugged the girls. I peered at the sleeping baby, and noted the thick black hair on her head. “You’re right. She’s getting so big,” I smiled. “She’s been up half the night. I’m ready to pass out, but I couldn’t miss a day with my girls.” She smiled. I grinned at the two large paper cups of coffee stored in the cup holder on the side of the very expensive stroller. Jillian handed one of the cups to me and I inhaled the aroma of caffeine with closed eyes. We drank our coffee and watched my sisters feed the ducks. We walked around the park for hours and stopped for lunch. Finally toward the end of the day, the girls squeezed out three carousel rides and Jillian

paid for all if it. “Please don’t. I got it,” I insisted as I fished cash out of my bag. “You’re insane, you know that right?” Jillian asked. I don’t think she was joking. “Stop being so stubborn to the point that you spite yourself. It’s nine dollars.” I opened my mouth to say something, but I caught the watchful eyes of a six and eight-year-old watching us. “Let me share what I have with you. For once.” Jillian said with a dry look, and then she smiled and looked at my sisters. “Who wants ice cream?” The girls jumped up and down excitedly and Jillian treated us all to ice cream. I remained quiet, thinking about her words. Jackson’s words. Jillian hugged me tightly before she ordered a town car to take us back to Harlem so we could get ready for the dinner party later that evening.

I FORGOT HOW LARGE Jackson’s estate is in New Rochelle. It’s been two years since I was here, and this time, I have some of the best company. Almost as soon as we stepped foot through the doorway, Celia clutched my skirt. Instantly shy in a new setting, she bit her fingernails nervously as she stared up at the splendor. I had to admit I was also overwhelmed. The front hall looks so much different when it’s empty and not set up for a grand party. A doorman greeted us and led us down the hall to the dining room. The house was so large and empty; I could just feel the echo of emptiness. Does Jackson live here by himself? I followed the doorman down the hall, drinking in the ornate features of this old house. Family paintings, portraits and unique art were displayed on the wooden walls. Even as I held the hands of my sisters, I couldn’t stop thinking about the owner of the house. I wondered if he ever gets lonely. I rounded the corner and entered the dining hall, just as Jackson entered from an opposite doorway with a bottle of champagne. “I figured we can have something special to celebrate, right?” He gave a grin as he turned to his cousin, Mason. The dining room could easily fit my apartment inside it, and everyone was already there, waiting. Jillian’s mom was there with her brother, Travis- who also happens to be Mason’s best friend. Valentina, the social butterfly, immediately made her rounds and showed off her new red dress. Her curly black hair bounced as she ran to Jillian and embraced her. “That’s a beautiful dress, Val!” Jill complimented my sister. “I know.” Valentina stated matter-of-factly and twirled. “I picked it out.” “Val.” I gave her a look. She immediately looked up at Jillian. “Thank you. Your dress is really pretty too.” Celia still clung to the skirt of my dress. She stared at everyone with wide, dark eyes. At that moment, Mrs. Pryor and Travis came over to me. “Sweetheart, it’s so nice to see you again. How have you been?” Mrs. Pryor asked me. “Good, really good.” I smiled, as I made small chat with Jill’s mom and Travis. We continued chatting lightly for a few minutes, and even throughout the conversation, my eyes kept darting over to Jackson. He looked delicious in a navy silk button-down, with the sleeves rolled to the crook of his elbows. His gaze was on me, searing. His eyes glinted with challenge and humor as he stared at me. He handed the bottle to a member of his small waitstaff and we sat down to dinner. Even throughout the meal, I felt

his attention on me, but I tried to focus on my sisters. Celia was especially quiet, but Valentina wanted to make herself known. The child didn’t stop talking throughout the entire meal. I wanted to scrub my face with slight frustration, but nobody else seemed to care. Eventually, once it had quieted down, Jackson stood with a flute of champagne. “I’d like to make a toast to the happy couple.” “Oh no,” I heard Piper mumble. “To Mason and Jillian, happy one-year anniversary. It’s been one hell of a bumpy ride.” He grinned and looked at Jill. “How you manage to live with this guy, I’ll never know.” Mason rubbed the bridge of his nose, but Jill snorted a laugh. “To Mason and Jillian,” Jackson held up his flute. “Cheers.” Everyone clinked glasses and sipped, and the waitstaff even poured sparkling apple juice for my sisters. It was a thoughtful gesture to think of them like that. “Really, Jax. What kind of anniversary toast is that?” Mason’s sister, Zara, asked with a light chuckle. She brushed her dark hair over one shoulder as she sipped from her flute. “I didn’t see any of you people stepping up to make one.” Jackson downed the contents of his drink, and he gave me a look from across the table. The expression on his face heated my blood. His gaze was filled with silent, but sinful promises. My skin felt hot and I fidgeted in my chair as a dull ache gradually formed between my thighs. Holy hell… “I like your painting!” Valentina chimed loudly, pointing at a vibrant floral painting. The flowers in the large oil canvas were exotic, and the lush greenery seemed to represent a jungle setting. The fuchsia and orange blended with yellow and red to draw the eye to various points on the canvas. Jackson’s gaze finally tore from mine and he glanced at the painting with only slight interest. “Oh, you like art, do you?” Jackson asked my sister with humor in his tone. “I like it. I like to paint and color. Lissie bought us a big box of sixty-four crayons, but Cee dropped the box and broke it.” “I did not!” Celia finally chimed in, but looked at the guests at the table and became withdrawn again. Valentina looked over at Celia pointedly, and then turned back to Jackson. “She did, but it was an accident. Cee likes to paint, too. She’s really good at it.” I glanced down at Celia and she bit her lower lip with such shyness. “Do you take art classes?” Jackson asked, allowing my sister to talk as much as she wanted. I was surprised by his level of patience. He didn’t strike me as the type to have patience for chatty kids. Valentina gave a long, drawn out and elaborated explanation of why she and Celia don’t take art classes. Long story short, my dad and his wife can’t afford it. “... But we have crayons and markers at home. Lissie bought us coloring books and markers yesterday!” Valentina continued to talk, but a bright flash of lightening flickered through the curtains, followed by a sharp crack of thunder. It was enough to interrupt my sister. A torrent of rain quickly followed, and it became apparent that nobody was going anywhere anytime soon. “Well, you’re in luck. I have a studio down the hall that’s never used,” Jackson stated casually. “Piper, show the kids the studio down the hall.” He said with a grin. His sister looked at him with a fleeting look of hesitation, but then smiled. Valentina immediately got out of her seat, ready to go, but Celia quickly grabbed Val’s hand for assurance. She glanced over her shoulder at me, unsure if she should leave me. “Go,” I said with a laugh. She frowned as she looked at me, hesitating, and I rolled my eyes as I laughed. “Fine, I’ll go with you.” I took Celia’s hand and followed Piper down the hall as she showed the girls to a small room and

turned on the lights. The room was simple. There was nothing amazing about it, apart from three different easels that were spread throughout the room. The walls were a soft yellow and the curtains were drawn across the windows. Piper showed my sisters to a variety of paints, and the girls immediately forgot I even existed. I left them to their art, and returned to the dining hall. I didn’t want to admit the real reason I was so ready to return to the table: Jackson. His presence is my weakness. Imagine my disappointment when I returned to find Jackson’s chair empty, and he was nowhere in sight.

MY SISTERS REMAINED extremely preoccupied with the art studio in the house and Jillian was busy talking with her family. Jackson had a phone call he needed to take in privacy, and I was left staring at old paintings and family portraits in the parlor. These family photos were like a window into the man of mystery, but they also sent a cold shiver through my body. It’s one thing to read an old newspaper article about the car accident, but it’s quite another to see real family portraits. I studied the childhood photos of Piper, decked out in trendy fashions of the late nineties, complete with braces. Jackson was almost unrecognizable, sporting a boyish grin in his high school graduation cap and gown. There weren’t many family photos, and the few framed photos that were present were all situated on one mahogany table in the parlor. Judging by the adolescent looks on Piper and Jackson’s faces, these pictures were far from recent. One in particular caught my eye: a studio portrait of Jackson and Piper with a younger girl. Her hair was light brown, cut short with a bright pink headband. Freckles lightly sprinkled her nose. She resembled her older sister in many ways. Jackson and Piper were probably about sixteen in this portrait, and the younger girl was about twelve or thirteen. Jillian appeared beside me, but I didn’t realize she was standing with me until she spoke. “Crazy, isn’t it? It’s like a window into another side to him,” she spoke softly, but her tone was far from amused. It was sad. Jillian didn’t know about the accident; it’s one aspect of my past I was too ashamed and embarrassed to mention, so I pretended to be clueless. “Yeah. At first I didn’t recognize Jackson in the photos,” I murmured. “Piper looks the same, minus the braces.” I joked, but my eyes kept darting to the little girl with them in the photo. “I don’t remember Piper ever mentioning a sister.” “Her name was Penelope,” Jill answered. “Oh.” I felt shitty for lying like this... “I made the mistake of asking about her last Christmas,” Jillian frowned. “Jackson won’t talk about it and when I asked about his family, it was like the room shifted. He became very stormy, quiet and said it wasn’t something he could talk about.” Jillian’s words only confirmed that Jackson cannot, under any circumstances, learn about my past. My heart ached. “If it hurts so much, why does he keep these photos out? People are bound to ask about the photos from time to time if they’re on display.” Jillian spoke softly. “True, but the loss of family doesn’t go away if reminders of them are tucked away. When my dad died, my mom kept some of his photos out on display. Maybe he keeps these out because that’s how his mom had it set up. Maybe it helps him remember who he is supposed to be as a person.” It’s hard for me to relate to family photos. They were never a part of my childhood. “Do you know what happened to her?” I asked Jillian, hoping she didn’t know much.

“Mason told me that she died in a car accident not long after that photo was taken.” She looked at me solemnly. “His parents were in the car, too. They didn’t make it, Ly. A word of advice: don’t mention any of this around Jackson.” Point taken. A lump formed in my throat, constricting my airway. “Jilly Bean,” her mother called, waving her over. Jillian pat my shoulder and then left to join her mother, husband and brother on the other side of the room. I tuned out the chit chat as I cast one last glance at the photos. My heart was still sore, but it wasn’t only sympathy I felt. With my wine glass still in hand, I left the living room and decided to check on my sisters who were still in the small studio down the hall. I could hear Valentina talking up a storm and soft music floated from the well-lit room. My sisters were in another world, using every ounce of paint on the easel. Zara and Piper seemed busy and possibly overstimulated by my sister’s incessant talking. Little Celia was silent, completely focused on her painting. The easel was facing away from the door, so I didn’t get a clear view of what she was working on, but I could tell by her level of concentration, she wasn’t ready to be disturbed. I left my sisters in the studio, after Piper cast me a silent “thumbs up” gesture with a smile. Thank you, I mouthed silently to her, and she gave another smile. I decided to leave them as they were. Everyone else in the house was preoccupied, so I decided to do a little exploring. This place was like a giant museum, and I felt like I had stepped into a scene from one of my favorite novels. I sipped my wine, feeling a little lighter as I stared at some of the unique art that adorned the upstairs hall. It was quiet and dark, and I was reminded of my exploration on the night of the masquerade. I still recalled that gorgeous, calming painting of the horse and its foal that I found in the sitting room of this house on the night of the party. I wondered if it was still hanging in the same place, and thought to go look at it again, but I was tipsier that night two years ago. I couldn’t remember my way to that room in this massive maze of a structure, but I was pretty sure it was on the opposite side of the house. The ballroom and balcony was on the other side of the estate, and I took an entirely different set of stairs to the second floor. After walking the halls for several minutes, it occurred to me that I might have to text Jillian for directions so I could relocate the living room downstairs. The rain was still a torrent outside, and I could hear it pounding against the large windows at the far end of the hall and the winds picked up outside, howling. Walking alone in this dark hall with those sound effects only made the experience more eerie. There were no paintings on the walls in this end of the hall and most of the doors that lined this corridor were locked. Bored, I tried the last silver knob at the far end of the hall, closest to the floor-toceiling window. To my surprise, it opened, and a light immediately flicked on. Holy hell. My mind was alive, and I cupped a hand over my mouth as I tried to process the scene before me. The room was small, about the size of a large walk-in closet. An expensive maroon carpet greeted my feet as I took in my surroundings. A St. Andrew's Cross was screaming at me from across the small room. The walls were lined with equipment that was used for restraint. A variety of rope hung on mounted hooks, organized by width and type. Suspension cuffs and chains were also neatly displayed, dangling from the hooks. A rack containing various canes and riding crops was found beside a spreader bar. Is it sick that I know what most of this stuff is? Maybe most people would have run from the room, scared shitless. Instead of leaving immediately, I took another step inside. I’ve read books that contain most of this equipment, but I’ve never seen it in a physical sense. I was enticed, again feeling like I’d stepped into another scene from one of my favorite novels. I ran my fingers lightly over the riding crops and wooden canes. These were never a turn-on for me,

but I still found them interesting. I walked around the room, feeling everything. I could see that it was all clean and brand new. My fingertips brushed along the floggers which hung from hooks on the walls. I was mesmerized, overstimulated and in a whole new world, nearly forgetting where I was and why I was there in the first place. The rain temporarily died down and then suddenly picked up again as I explored this forbidden room. The realization crashed down on me, and so many thoughts buzzed around in my head. Oh. My. God… Is Jackson… ? This is his house- this is a room in his house. My mind was piecing everything together, and for a second, I closed my eyes, trying to imagine how and why there was a room dedicated to bondage equipment within his house. His face flashed through my mind and tingles swept over my skin, straight to my panties. My mind was lost, my imagination consumed with images and memories of that searing kiss two years ago. I let out an involuntary exhale as my fingertips brushed over the metal chains. I couldn’t help myself. Suddenly, the door behind me slammed and I whirled around, startled to leave, but I nearly bumped into a solid chest. The scent of that spicy cologne was clouding, and far too familiar for my comfort level. Against my better judgment, I looked up to find the scorching green eyes of Jackson staring down at me. The dark glimmer in his eyes matched the wolfish smirk on his face and he tilted his head slightly as he studied me. “Snooping. Again. You have a knack for getting caught, little mouse.”



SOMEONE IS IN TROUBLE. This fucking door was meant to be locked, and I had a feeling that the new cleaning lady had something to do with this mishap. I watched the beautiful woman walk around in the room, feeling everything within sight. I’d been standing in this doorway for several minutes, just watching her, enraptured by the way she took in her surroundings. She wasn’t disturbed, and I found myself captivated with how she explored every piece of equipment in this forbidden place. I’ve always known there was something about Elyse; I couldn’t deny the connection I felt with her that first night we met. She obeyed my subtle commands as I gauged her reaction to my instructions that night we danced, and she listened to her body- until a member of the waitstaff interrupted us. A dark part of me always knew she was meant for this. I saw straight through her cool exterior, and noted the inhibitions and fears she so desperately clung to. I can take care of you, sweetheart. If you’ll just let me. I watched her flushed skin as she touched everything. Her chest moved up and down as her breathing picked up, and my eyes fell to the swell of her cleavage beneath the blue satin piece she wore. It hugged her hips and that delicious round ass like a work of art. Her hands didn’t even quiver as she explored the feel of my personal belongings. Something stirred within me- a carnal hunger that I’ve been trying to suppress when I’m around her. I slammed the door, making my presence known, and she nearly knocked into me when I startled her. I was enjoying this too much. I could smell the light, sweet scent of peach on her skin. I don’t typically care for anything peach flavored, but I’d gladly lick and eat- hold it together, Jax. I scolded myself inwardly. Instead, I inclined my head as I examined her flushed face and shocked expression. “Snooping. Again. You have a knack for getting caught, little mouse.” She tore her gaze from mine, and looked anywhere but in my direction. She attempted to mask her nervousness as she held her chin up high. Her blue eyes darted up to mine like she was trying to convince me of her confidence. I saw right through her nerves, though. Her fingers clung to the blue fabric of her dress, and her cheeks were still pink. Her chest still moved up and down at a heavier rate than normal. I’m very in tune with these indicators. “The door wasn’t locked,” she quipped, as the creamy skin on her neck and chest also grew crimson in color. “True, and someone will answer for that. But nobody invited you up here, either.” Her nerves showed more when I made this comment, and her face flushed a deeper pink. “You seem very interested in what you see,” I smirked as I waved one hand around at our surroundings. She looked up at me, eyes flaring and fiery. “How long were you watching me?” “Long enough to see that you are a very touchy-feely kind of girl. You enjoy the sensory, the pleasure

of the sensual feel, the way it can fuel the imagination.” I watched her swallow, picking up on the silent queue. “Tell me, little mouse, do you enjoy the way your imagination stimulates your desires? Or is it not enough?” “Stop calling me a mouse.” Her nose scrunched as she evaded the question. “So what is this room? A torture chamber?” “I think you know very well what it is. You wouldn’t have been so fascinated by the props if you thought I was that sadistic.” “This your playroom?” She raised her eyebrows at me, attempting an unimpressed look. I had to give her some credit for her effort at the facade she was forcing. “Sweetheart, this is only storage. The whole fucking house is my playroom.” I used two fingers to raise her chin up so that her eyes locked with mine. Her nostrils flared, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. I saw her take a gulp as she moved her gaze from mine. I could almost see the heat spread through her body. Clearly, I was affecting her. Good. She was wound so tight. Too tightly. I could fix that. “So you bring a lot of women here,” she commented in a matter-of-fact tone. “Not a lot. I’m very particular and it’s been quite a while since I brought anyone to this property.” About two years… “Is that because you get bored easily?” She asked, looking up at me. What the fuck? “Where did you hear that?” “I read an article about you that was featured in Forbes Forty Under Forty last year. You said in the interview that you get bored easily.” I threw my head back and laughed. “Are you serious? That was never referenced about women. I have many hobbies, Elyse. I tend to go through phases where I lose interest for a while and then pick them up again. That quote had nothing to do with relationships or women.” Her face softened from the fiery expression she held just seconds earlier. “Oh my God. I’m sorry.” Her blue eyes were wide again, contemplating what I just told her. She actually appeared embarrassed. Enough of this awkward bullshit. I took the wine glass from her hand and set it on the windowsill. Her eyes were wide as my fingers grasped her waist firmly and I backed her up against the only empty wall space available. I trailed a single finger from the spot behind her ear, down the nape of her neck. Her breathing hitched severely and she closed her eyes as she finally let out a breath. “Do you enjoy the feel of this?” I asked, now running two fingers across her collarbone. She swallowed hard, and hesitated for the faintest moment. “Yes…” She gasped with a soft, breathy response. Fucking hell. This woman responds eagerly, more than I ever anticipated from her. My cock was rock hard from the moment I laid eyes on her exploring my forbidden props. Now it was a throb within the restraint of my pants. “How does this feel?” I asked, fully in dom mode now. One hand kept her waist plastered against the wall while the other lightly raked down the side of her breast, fingers skimming down her torso to her waist… She pursed her lips as though she was trying to hold back, yet it was taking every ounce of effort on her part. “Good…” her response was a deep breath and I noted how her pulse rocketed within her neck. She closed her eyes, and that was fine with me for now. “When is the last time a man made you feel good?” I whispered in her ear, tugging on her earlobe with my teeth. She sucked in a sharp breath in reaction to my nipping.

I pressed my body firmly against hers so my hard erection pushed against her stomach, and I noted how she rocked her body against mine, like she needed more friction. “How long has it been?” I reiterated my demanding whisper as my fingers pulled the hem of her skirt up her thighs, inch by inch. “Never. I’ve had some bad experiences. Please. We don’t have to talk about that,” she answered hoarsely. Her blue eyes fluttered open and looked up at me. I saw pain behind those blue depths and I wasn’t going to push the conversation further at this time. It’s no wonder she’s coiled like a goddamn spring. Her body writhed tightly against mine, still desperate. Her eagerness was surprising, but I wasn’t about to complain. My body kept her firmly in place against the wall as my hands hiked up her skirt and kept it bunched around her waist. She moved her body against mine, grinding against my cock. If she kept that up I was going to lose myself. “Let me make you feel good,” I whispered as I gripped her wrists and placed her hands above her head. My hand traveled down south, testing her, but she only closed her eyes and let out a sigh. I rubbed her through the cotton of her panties, feeling the warm dampness through the thin barrier. She gave another moan and slouched her head against my forearm while two fingers from my other hand continued pleasuring her. “Keep your eyes open,” I directed as my hands worked her clit. Her panties were soaked and I could only imagine how good her cunt would feel wrapped around my cock. Her eyes instantly opened and stared up at me. “Do you know what I am?” I whispered as I pulled her panties to the side so I could feel her slick juices on my fingers. “Yes,” she gasped as I rubbed her tender, swollen pussy. “Please, more…” she begged. Her plea sparked a fire within me, and I pulled my hand from her wet heat. It was a struggle and took every bit of self control I had. Her eyes were glazed over, on the edge of complete bliss, but before I gave her anything else I needed to establish one thing. “If you become mine, I’ll take you past the point of pleasure, and more.” She blinked, flushed, and still fogged from the way my fingers worked her clit. “Don’t play coy with me, little mouse. You’re standing in this room. You’re surrounded by my props. You know what’s involved.” She swallowed hard. Her pulse continued to hammer in her neck. “Why don’t you show me how much you want me.” There’s that spark I enjoy about her. She still seemed conflicted, and rigid. “Come with me,” I put space between us, and smoothed her skirt down before I took her hand and pulled her away from the wall. “I can’t believe you just tortured me like that. Sadist.” She scoffed as she smoothed her skirt one last time. I shot her a warning glare, but I was inwardly amused. I led her out of the room and I locked the door. “I want you to understand that nobody can know about this aspect of my life. We all have secrets, Elyse. I’m sure you understand that.” I looked at her, knowing that she would understand. I wasn’t worried about her leaking juicy gossip about what she just witnessed. “Trust me. You don’t have to worry about me saying anything. I swear it.” She mumbled this, and tucked another strand behind her ear. She was suddenly nervous, and I noticed the nervous twitch of her jaw when I mentioned the word, “secrets.” Interesting… “I’m not really the submissive type,” she whispered. “Yes you are. You just need to let go.” “You don’t know anything about me, Jackson,” she said quietly. There was nothing haughty in her tone,

but she was straightforward. “I know plenty about you, and if you’d-” I began my explanation, but my sister was quickly making her way down the hall. I couldn’t risk anyone else seeing this room. “Elyse.” I heard Piper’s voice faintly from the other end of the hall. Fucking shit. It would be a matter of seconds before my sister tracked us down. I had no time to warn Elyse further about the consequences if she spilled my secrets. “You still have my card, right?” I asked her as we left the room. We took a few steps down the hall toward the sound of Piper’s voice. “Yes.” “Call me within two days.” “Why don’t you call me?” She sassed back. That ass needed a sound spanking, but my sister suddenly appeared. “There you are,” Piper paused a moment, looking between us both with raised eyebrows and then she cleared her throat. “Mason and Jill are looking for you. They’re giving you and the girls a ride back to the city.” “Fine with me,” Elyse answered dryly and she cast me a look before she removed her hand from mine. She was obviously disgruntled about that withheld orgasm, but I certainly never intended to leave her like that. That’s alright. I’ll see her soon enough, and finish what I started. I’ll get my answer. I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.



JACKSON WAS ON my mind constantly. I couldn’t stop thinking about his miraculous fingers and how they worked my clit, or the way his tongue danced around mine. That man can kiss in a way I’d never imagined. Everything about him was intoxicating and the more I thought about him, and saw him, the stronger I was sucked in by his magnetic charm. My cell phone vibrated as I reached for it in the locker room at the youth center. I was ready to head home for the day after some very grueling, painful homework sessions. Middle school math is killer and the kids I was trying to help love it about as much as I do. My head was hurting when I answered the phone. “Hello?” “Ms. Elyse Mendez? This is Eileen Hopkins, I’m calling about the lounge singer and waitressing job you applied for with Stella Notte.” I blinked. I intended to call Jackson tonight with my answer. I never expected he’d have his human resource personnel contact me. “Um. Yes I did.” I pulled my sweater on as I balanced the cell phone on my shoulder. “I’m very interested in the waitressing part, not so much the singing part.” “Oh,” the woman on the other end faltered a bit at my abrupt statement. “We’re looking for someone who can do both roles.” As she spoke, I envisioned Jackson showing up at his lounge on a night that I’d be working. I imagined him pulling me into his office and bending me over his desk, flipping my dress over my ass, hand poised in the air“Hello? Ms. Mendez?” I tore myself away from my fantasy and tried to focus on the conversation. I don’t know what she just said. “I’m sorry. I think the phone cut out. What did you say?” I lied. “I was saying we’d like to offer you an evening position, four nights a week, if you’re still interested. We have a strict dress code policy, and you’ll have to pass a drug test.” She continued talking, giving me instructions for where I should go for my drug test. The dress code is modest: white shirt, and black skirt or black dress pants. I can manage that. “Orientation is tomorrow evening. Would you be able to begin your training tomorrow evening? Six o’clock?” I was nervous about singing in front of the clients, so I tried to focus on the money and the idea of possibly seeing Jackson there. “I’m interested, and I’ll be there tomorrow at six pm. Thank you.”

Orientation was just as I expected. Eileen Hopkins conducted the meeting and had us flip through the pages of our staff handbook. One of the other lounge waitresses who was hired at the same time as me raised her hand. “Yes… Carli?” “I was just wondering if Mr. Rochester will be showing up from time to time?” She asked, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder as she asked. A flame of jealousy lashed within me and Eileen arched one thin eyebrow. There was no question why she was asking about Jackson. I looked away and rolled my eyes. “He shows up when you least expect it, and you never know when he’s watching, so I suggest you all do your best.” Eileen said with a trace of warning. Once our information session was over, we were taken to the main floor and given the official tour. I admit I was really disappointed when I didn’t see Jackson. I glanced around the lounge, hoping to spot him, but he wasn’t around. Beautiful jazz notes played from the piano and I watched a few of the more experienced waitresses serve drinks to the clients who were still dressed in their business attire from the office. A soft violet light complimented the dark leather decor and gave a calm and private ambience throughout the entire lounge. “Elyse, this is Tracey. You’ll be learning from her this evening. Please don’t be afraid to ask any questions,” Eileen introduced me to one of the waitresses who was wearing the dress code black pants and white shirt well with her auburn hair tucked into a twist at the nape of her neck. Tracey smiled and held out her hand while she expertly held a silver tray in one hand. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you and definitely don’t hesitate to ask me anything.” This job might not be so bad. I instantly liked Tracey. She had a vibrant personality and as I followed her around, I noticed the patrons tipped her very generously. “Sometimes I get one or two who try to grab my ass. They’re not allowed, so don’t let them touch you inappropriately.” She warned quietly as I helped her situate drink orders on a tray. “That order goes to that table. I need to take my fifteen minutes. Can you handle the tables? And then you can break when I get back.” Tracey gave me a reassuring smile. It was around nine pm and the lounge was busy. The jazz was flowing and Tracey was making good tips. Until this point, I basically just followed her around like a puppy, learning the ropes. Suddenly, I was on my own, on my first night of training. I’ve balanced multiple drink orders before, but it was in a coffee house as a barista. I’d never waitressed before, especially not in an upscale piano bar. With the tray in hand, I glanced around the lounge and headed toward the section I’d been working, but stopped when I finally spotted Jackson off to the side of the stage, by the back doors. He looked so perfect in an expensive dark gray suit that must have been custom tailored. Everything about him in this moment was purely business. He was talking with another man, probably another high class patron, and his smile was charismatic, but there was no typical gleam in his eyes. He shook hands with the client and then his gaze caught mine. I was entranced, but still managed a smile and he flashed me a grin of his own. That’s when the tray nearly slipped out of my hands, but I caught it before anything spilled. I glanced up quickly and saw the warning look on his face, but I don’t think he was serious. I laughed to myself and continued to the table. “Good evening, gentlemen,” I greeted cordially at a particular lounge section closest to the piano. There was a small group of five, well-suited men, who’d been laughing about something, and it sounded like they were just talking business. I was in the bathroom when Tracey originally took their orders, so I

had to learn which belonged to whom. “Whiskey neat?” I asked as I steadied the tray on a nearby table. “Hello dollface, right here.” One of the customers smiled, and it was clear he’d already had a few drinks. “Elyse. Elyse. Elyse.” My back was turned to the male voice as I began delivering the drink orders, but dread suddenly curled up within me when the taunting tone hit me. After all these years, I still remember it. The humiliation, the way I felt used, the shame. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, willing myself to keep cool, then turned slowly and looked at the man for the briefest moment. “Hello.” I spoke stiffly. I worked quickly, handing out drink orders, needing to get the fuck away from those men. Away from Chance Tanner. “Hello? That’s all I get, just ‘hello?’” He laughed and slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Remember that story I told you from college, the bet?” “This is the bet?” His friend asked with a huge grin. The blood had already drained from my face. “She’s a real beauty.” Chance continued talking about me like I wasn’t standing right there, handing out their drink orders. “Yes, but she fucks like a dead fish. I had to use precaution because who the fuck knows where she’s been. You know what I’m saying, but I took one for the team.” “Good times,” his friend commented. “What’s the matter, Elyse? You don’t remember my name?” Chance asked, huge smirk on his face. “I remember yours.” His suit from the office was slightly rumpled and he remained lounged on the leather sofa, drunk and without a care in the world. I wanted to cry and commit murder at the same time. Instead, I feigned a smile. “Oh, I do remember you now. Pencil dick, right? At least, that’s all I can remember.” His eyes narrowed to a malicious expression, but at this point, I felt reckless. After grabbing a dirty martini from the tray beside me, I dumped the entire contents into his lap. “And now everyone can see the tiny contours of your little Chance.” I taunted as I stood over him, and ground the heel of my shoe into his foot for good measure. He hissed and winced from the pain, but it didn’t stop him from taking action. “Slut.” He sneered, and before I could react, pulled me down onto his lap. “Get off me!” I kicked his shin and threw my elbow into his chest. “Show my friends what a little whore you were that night,” Chance said with a sadistic grin. The display had caught the attention of the entire lounge, and even the pianist stopped performing as everyone watched. Strong hands suddenly grabbed me, pulling me off that man. Within those fleeting seconds, Chance was lifted off the sofa and thrown to the floor. In a rage, Jackson picked him up and dragged him to the door. “Get your garbage ass out of my lounge!” He roared, and his security detail were behind him. There was such a ferocity about him, even I was flinching. He pointed toward the section that contained the very shocked colleagues of Chance Tanner. “I want them, all of them, OUT. They’re not allowed back. Nobody touches my employees.” He directed the security detail, then pointed at the bartender. “A round of complimentary drinks for everyone tonight.” He was red in the face, knuckles knotted white, livid. “Come with me,” his voice was strained as he passed me, putting his hand on my back to guide me to his office. Once we were inside the quiet privacy of his office, he wrapped me in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” he whispered. “That’s never happened in my lounge before, but I’d never let anyone hurt you.” I listened to his voice as he spoke, while his arms held me against his hard body so strongly. I’d been

shaking, but as he held me, the trembling slowed to a stop. “I wanted to kill him.” Jackson confessed. A lump formed in my throat. Chance Tanner was an asshole who talked nonsense, but his words still cut deep into old wounds. Jackson never let me go, and held me like that for so long, I lost track of time. “Do you want a drink? It might make you feel better.” “No,” I shook my head adamantly. I thought about going home, but I felt safe in his arms. He made me feel valuable and that’s not a familiar feeling. I loved the way he held me, but I had to pull away. “Let’s get you home. I promise this won’t happen again.” “You’re right, it won’t. I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” my voice was soft. “Don’t let a group of asshats make you feel inferior.” “It’s not that. I don’t belong here. This isn’t what I’m supposed to do.” There was silence between us. “I admit I’m disappointed, but you have to do what you’re passionate about, Elyse.” I nodded. “I’ll escort you home.” As he pulled away I should have felt relief, but all I felt was emptiness.

FOUR DAYS PASSED since that incident at the lounge, since I felt protected in Jackson’s arms. Jill and Mason were on their anniversary vacation in the Mediterranean, leaving me in their fancy penthouse to take care of the dog, Gemma, a little mutt Jill found while volunteering at a local animal shelter. I sat with my laptop, trying to focus on my latest blog entry. Sadly, I hadn’t posted anything new since before the benefit. Between work at the coffeehouse, mentoring the kids at the youth center, and my own classes, my schedule had been hectic. I couldn’t focus in my apartment, and I had a new distraction on my mindJackson. Jillian was right- staying in the penthouse was so much better than the old brick apartment building. There was no screaming, no blaring car alarms, and no Burt. It was quiet and I couldn’t remember the last time I slept so well. I have to admit that Gemma was great company, too. I read over the last few entries I made on my blog, Kids in Action. I had posted pictures of the kids on our trip to the Museum of Natural History, but I was able to blur out their faces for the sake of privacy. Within one year, I managed to gain around nine hundred followers. The purpose of my blog was to bring awareness about the need for community programs and efforts that aid disadvantaged kids and keep them off the streets. My blog has always been informal. I post colorful photos and talk about what we’ve been doing with the youth. I smiled as I reviewed the comments that some of the followers left on my latest weekly post. There had been a few recent comments that complimented my entries, with readers stating that they felt inspired. After the benefit, my blog also gained another one hundred followers. I grinned, feeling gratified, and closed my laptop. I took in a deep breath and looked around at my lavish surroundings. It was quiet. The dog beside me perked her ears up when I sat up straighter. I crossed the sitting room and turned on the stereo and looked through the music selections. There was a lot of Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin, Metallica and those types of bands. I needed upbeat, happy music. I tuned the radio until my favorite station blared loudly. Bruno Mars filled the living room. Now that’s what I’m talking about. I moved my head to the beat of the music as I crossed the sitting room and found a bottle of wine.

I uncorked the wine and filled a glass, surprised by how comfortable and relaxed I felt after staying in the penthouse after only three days. I walked from room to room, sipping my wine as I studied the photographs that decorated the walls. I grinned as I found the display of wedding photos, and a special framed photo of me with Jill. I think we were both a little tipsy that day in Central Park when she was kissing my cheek. I turned and found the dog standing behind me, staring up at me with a tilt of her head. I moved my hips as Uptown Funk began playing, and set the wine glass down on a polished table before I moved back into the living room. I sang along to every word, feeling completely uninhibited. I raised my hands above my head, hosting my own dance party as I swiveled my hips. The dog barked in excitement and ran in circles around me, and I laughed as she stared at me with her tongue flopping out one side of her mouth. “Come on Gemma, it’s a dance party!” I giggled as I continued moving to the beat of the music. The song faded to an end and a slower song began playing. “That was… sensational.” A combination of dread and excitement suddenly curled up within me at the sound of that familiar voice. It was rich, intoxicating and I knew it all too well. I felt my defenses flaring up, even before I turned around to face my audience. It took everything I had within me to push those feelings back down. I couldn’t believe he had been standing there. For how long? God, why does he do this to me? The humiliation was unreal. I turned to look at him and plastered a smile on my face, hoping it would hide the rampant beating of my heart. I knew my face was flushed, but I could easily blame that on the wine I’d been sipping. And why the hell am I so thrilled to see him? “Jackson. What are you doing here?” I attempted to even my breathing, but I’m sure he saw straight through my efforts. He stood, leaned against the archway to the sitting room. His crisp, white button-down was untucked from his black pants, with the sleeves neatly folded, exposing his forearms. One hand was tucked in the pocket of his pants, while the other held his rumpled black tie. He remained in that position, staring at me with an intense gaze, burning holes through me. Finally, he straightened and entered the room. “Mason asked me to check on the dog.” “Really? That’s interesting, because I’ve been here for three days and you haven’t shown up. The dog could have starved to death before you finally appeared to feed it.” His eyes flared slightly, but he only grinned as he tucked the tie in the pocket of his pants. “Good thing she has you, then.” I bit my tongue to maintain my composure and any sense of control I had over this situation- over his presence in this room. Jackson said nothing as he entered the room and poured himself a shot of bourbon. He took it in one swig and then set the glass tumbler down on the bartop. “Actually, I wanted to check on you, see if you need anything.” There was deep concern in his eyes, and I knew he was referring to the other night. I smiled, trying to act cool, but failing miserably. “That’s very thoughtful, thank you.” “Are you okay?” I nodded. “I’m fine. You managed to reduce them to miniscule rats the other night.” He laughed. “I can have that effect on people. Good to hear.” We stared at one another for several minutes, as though we were waiting for the other to make the first move or say something else. His eyes flickered over to the sofa, where I had been reading earlier, before I paused to work on my blog. Our eyes met before his attention returned to the book on the sofa. The cover of the book was a

sensual one, and was designed beautifully. “Oh, this looks interesting,” he grabbed the book before I could dodge for it. “Give me that!” I jumped for the book, but he held it up and I could not compete with his height. He opened the book to a certain page and read aloud. “He moved swiftly, expertly binding my hands behind my back. Then his body rocked into mine. I was completely at his mercy-” “Give me that!” I begged. “Jackson!” “... Then without another word, he roped my ankles, and tied me to the bed…” He continued reading aloud and I was ready to throw something at him. My face was red hot with nerves. “That’s a signed paperback from my favorite author! Give it to me!” I jumped up and grabbed the book and he let me take it this time. I was huffing and puffing- agitated, embarrassed, and turned on. It’s a terrible combination of emotions, because I didn’t know which one to focus on the most. Jackson only chuckled, and that added to the annoyance. “Elyse, Elyse… I had no idea you were into such kink. How badly does it get you off?” I glared at him, because the memory of his fingers on my clit still gave me tingles. There was no joke in his voice when he asked that question, and he posed it in such a way, it already told me that he knew the answer. He took two even strides toward me, never taking his eyes from mine, closing the distance. I didn’t back away. “Are you afraid to answer the question?” He stared down at me with that same scorching stare. He pushed the book out of my hands and it landed on the plush arm chair behind me. A lump formed in my throat, not because I was going to cry, but because I lost my voice in that moment. The mixture of emotions boiled within me, but at this point, I was just furious. “Well?” Jackson stared down at me with a matching fury. He wasn’t backing down. “Come to think of it, you owe me a few answers.” He crossed the room and returned to the small bar in the corner, and I felt the empty space between us. He poured another shot of bourbon and downed it. “I like to read. It’s my escape. I live vicariously through the characters in the stories,” I finally answered after a long pause of silence. “Because you are afraid to get close to people, you read those books. Somebody hurt you. That prick from my lounge?” He asked as he set the glass tumbler back on the bartop. Again, that wasn’t a question. I nodded. “One of many.” “So now you blame the rest of the world.” “It’s not like that.” I pursed my lips and looked away. “Then what is it?” Jackson asked. He sat down in the middle of the leather sofa and gestured toward the empty spot beside him. I knew he sat in the middle deliberately because he wasn’t going to let me put space between us. He really wants to talk? I sat down beside him tentatively, but I didn’t know where to begin… the last time I talked about myself or my feelings was with Jillian. Before that, it was my mentor, Doris, and that was years ago. “My mom turned me over to social services when I was nine years old. She couldn’t handle her addiction problems anymore, but it still hurt. A lot. But I knew I could move past it…” My voice trailed. “Why am I telling you this?” “Because I told you to. Now continue. You were talking about your mom. There is no judgment in this room, Elyse.” His typical, charming grin was gone and he looked down at me with a soft but serious expression. In that moment, my defenses disintegrated. There was something about Jackson that made me feel comforted,

and… safe? I believed him when he said there was no judgment. “When I was in college a few years ago, there were some frat boys who made a bet. A few rumors went around that I had been in juvenile detention center. They thought that because of that, I would be a challenge. So, they made a bet about who could bang me first. I fell for it and I was humiliated. I lost myself for a while. I dropped out of school and fell away from the youth center. I made a lot of mistakes in that time.” My face heated, but Jackson didn’t press me. He sat there, listening quietly. “What brought you back to the youth center?” He asked. “Doris came to see me. She’s my mentor. She’s been there for me since I was fifteen.” I smiled as I thought about the founder. “She told me I was better than the choices I was making. And not long after that, I met Jill.” Jackson smiled, and I looked at him quizzically. “Why do you want to know all of this, anyway?” “I’m curious about the woman behind the mask, the one who has tried to avoid me for the last two years.” He winked. “I’m sorry.” I meant those words. “You’re just so… you’re just so rich, and-” His brow creased into a frown. “That’s a bit of a prejudice, isn’t it?” “No, I just meant that you’re always surrounded by nice things. Lots of women-” Ugh. I was fumbling with my words. “Now you’re implying that I’m a manwhore.” “Aren’t you? I’ve seen the pictures in the gossip columns. You love all different types.” His eyes glinted darkly. “And you think you know my type?” I had no words. I couldn’t bring myself to spew any witty responses or sarcastic remarks. His lip twitched only slightly as he stared down at me, assessing me keenly. “You’ve been avoiding me all this time, because you’re afraid. But what really terrifies you, Elyse?” His eyes were dark as they locked with mine. “Are you afraid of the way I might do this…?” His fingers brushed lightly against the skin of my forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Or are you afraid of your response to this…?” His hand made a single, light caress down the nape of my neck, to my collarbone, and brushed downward. The heat spread throughout my nerve-endings, from the spot where he gently brushed me, down to my dampened panties. Without even realizing my actions, I spread my thighs, and I saw the appreciation on his face for my impulsive gesture. “You’ve seen my equipment room. You’re aware of my type.” Hell yes, and what a sight it was… His thumb and forefinger took my chin and tilted my face up, so that my gaze was locked with his own. I stared into those green eyes, seeing flickers of darkness and desire behind those depths. In those fleeting seconds, the moment still felt like an eternity. Finally, he broke away and stood, extending his hand to me just as a slower song played on the radio. “Dance with me, Elyse. Let me see you without your mask tonight.” There was no request in the way he kept his hand extended to me, and I tentatively took his hand and he raised me to my feet. His grip was firm and steady as he walked me away from the sofa, and pulled my body against his. I smiled, and found myself laying my head against his chest as we swayed to the music. His arms wrapped around my waist, and bound me against his body. I felt a consuming connection with him; it was something that words can’t describe. I felt safe. I closed my eyes as the music flowed around us, feeling his hands on my back. His other hand was clasped around mine, fingers curling together. I breathed in the scent of his cologne, and kept myself pressed against the muscles of his torso. His embrace was strong and powerful and everything about his

presence warmed me, melting away the ice. Then, without a word, he twirled me, and when he pulled me back to his body, our lips met. It was a calculating move on his part, but I melted against his kiss. His lips consumed mine, dominating my mouth as his fingers curled around the fabric of my shirt, gripping it fiercely. His hands moved from my waist, raking up the sides of my cotton shirt. With expert skill, he slowly backed me up against a wall, never taking his mouth from mine. The taste of bourbon was light on his tongue as it caressed with mine. Holy hell. I was overwhelmed with the way he controlled my body, but I wanted more. A fire spread through me like I’d never experienced before. My back was plastered against the wall, before I even knew what was happening. His lips left mine, leaving an empty void in its place. “Jackson, please don’t-” I was disrupted from any trace of rational thought when I was met with his intense stare. It was wild, dark, and hungry- unlike anything I had seen with him before. “What do you want, Elyse?” His tone was calm, yet authoritative. I let out a breath, feeling the words that I had planned to say leave my mouth as I exhaled. Even as he waited for my response, I sensed that he was testing me. Two hands gently applied pressure on my shoulders. It wasn’t a severe gesture, but guided me into a downward position if I was willing- and God, I was willing. “Is this what you want?” He asked me as I found myself stooping into a kneeling position before him. I never removed my gaze from his intense eyes. All words left me as his hands moved from my shoulders, and fingers curled within my black hair. One hand left my hair, while the other remained fisted within my tresses. Two fingers caressed the line of my jawbone down to my chin. “Answer me. Is this what you want, Elyse?” “Yes, please.” The words spilled from my lips before I had time to realize what I was saying. I hadn’t allowed myself any momentum to argue or analyze my fears and inhibitions. This is what I wanted. For the first time, my heart spoke before my brain had time to contradict it. His lips twitched at my response, and his eyes glinted with appreciation. “I want this,” I repeated again, more confidently. “I want to feel free.”



SHE LOOKED SO FUCKING beautiful, staring up at me with those pleading blue eyes. From the moment I first saw her, I knew that beneath that defensive exterior was a submissive begging for care. My care. When that asshole had his hands on her the other night in the lounge, I became a wild, possessive beast. The only thing stopping me from tearing him apart was the negative publicity it would bring. He wasn’t worth it. I’ve fucked a lot of women in the past, but never felt as overprotective about anyone as I did with Elyse. If any man has his hands on her, it will be mine. And only mine. I watched her kneel into the position on her knees. Her movements were completely voluntary and played out in slow motion. Fuck if I didn’t want to take her over the arm of the sofa, punish her for the last two years, and then fuck every bad memory out of that delicious body. My cock twitched at the thought of her hot, tight cunt wrapped around it“Jackson?” Her voice was wanton, and her blue eyes were searching. Begging. Hoping. I’m not that easy, however. I haven’t had a steady submissive in almost two years, but I still have a routine I go through with each submissive I take. Elyse will be no exception and I have to do my damndest to ignore the fact that she has been in the back of my every thought for the last two years. That thought was intrusive and I brushed it off as I fixed my gaze down on the woman before me. “Do you understand what you’re getting yourself into?” She looked up at me and nodded. “Yes, and I want it… with you.” I left her in that kneeling position as I crossed the room and retrieved the book she had been reading. “You avoided me for two years, and I’m very selective about who I play with. So if you agree to this, we’ll be doing things my way. There will be no sass, no arguments, only complete trust and when you please me, I will reward you. Do you understand what I am saying to you?” She nodded, never taking her eyes off me. I managed to break down some of her barriers, but this was only step one. I held up her treasured book. “Judging from what I read so far, this material is diluted compared to what I am really going to show you.” “I doubt it’s diluted. You read two sentences. You don’t even know what it’s about-” I held a finger to her lips. “That’s a warning. Because we haven’t gone over preferences and limits yet, I’ll let it slide, but don’t let it become a habit or your ass will become cherry red.” Her mouth dropped into a very round “O” which only triggered my imagination about those lips and what they can do with my cock. To say I enjoyed her shocked expression would be an understatement. I reveled in it, but I had to maintain my own control. I slid two fingers beneath her chin, and gently forced her mouth closed. My hand brushed along her jawline before I offered both hands to help her to her feet. Her thin fingers curled

around mine and I lifted her until she was upright. Profound confusion and disappointment was etched all over the features of her face. “I have a meeting early in the morning that I need to prepare for,” I said as I ran my hands along the silky skin of her arms. She didn’t even attempt to mask the defeat. “Are you serious? All you've done so far is left me hanging. Please Jackson, I'm ready. I want this..” Her mouth was left open as she trailed off in disappointment; it was now all over her face. “Soon. Very soon, but I need to make sure this is what you really want,” I looked at her directly, all humor aside. I paused to see if she would accept what I had to say, or if she would lash out with another remark. So help me, if she gave one bit of sass, I wouldn’t need another reason why I shouldn’t bend her over that sofa. She bit her tongue and looked away. “I’ll be at my nightclub tomorrow evening. Meet me there at eight. We’ll have dinner and discuss everything further.” “I have work until six o’clock,” she commented. “So that can work.” “I’ll send a car to pick you up from work at six.” “Really? Thank you. I’ll be at the Chat N Brew coffee shop.” She smiled slightly, and I was already pleased by her acceptance. “Do you know where that is?” “I’ve passed it a few times.” I winked. “We’ll talk tomorrow. It’s important to me that I know how serious you are about this, Elyse.” She nodded, and I leaned down and planted a light kiss on her forehead. “Until then.” I noticed that her eyes closed as I leaned forward, planting the kiss on her skin. She pressed into the touch of my lips, clearly hoping for more and when I pulled away, she exhaled deeply. Her blue eyes fluttered open, looking up at me with want. That makes two of us, Peach. I winced at the thought of the pet name I’d given her impulsively. It’s never been my style to give my submissives any pet names, but this one suited her. The light, sweet fragrance of peach will always remind me of this woman.



I SPENT THE ENTIRE day floating on a cloud. My supervisor at the Chat N Brew Coffee House snapped at me twice because I zoned out. I was in a daze throughout my entire shift, and several coworkers even asked if I was okay. When demanding customers would have normally pissed me off, their rude comments only rolled off my back. I went through the repetitive motions of fulfilling coffee orders, completely tuning out any rude comments. I glanced at the clock every five minutes, and the day dragged. What is wrong with me? I couldn’t believe my own actions the night before. I went from avoiding Jackson to anxiously waiting for his car to pick me up from work. At five minutes to six, I excused myself to go to the bathroom, where I changed into a red silk dress that I borrowed from Jillian’s closet. I don’t know what possessed me to borrow clothes from my best friend, since I have always been apprehensive about accepting help from anyone. All I knew was that I wanted to look good for Jackson, and red is my favorite color. I went over all the old excuses why I shouldn’t attract Jackson’s attention. I came to two conclusions: I was wrong about him, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him- or me. He doesn’t have to know everything about my past, only what he should know. Right? He’s looking for a submissive and it feels fucking perfect when I melt under his touch. He doesn’t have to know that it was my mother who caused the fatal car accident all those years ago. He probably doesn’t even think about that scratched-up Maserati anymore. I’ve spent so many years on my own, afraid of depending on others, wondering what the next day will bring or even where I’ll find my next meal. It’s exhausting, and the way Jackson makes me feel…I just can’t describe it. I’ve never felt so liberated. I can’t fight that fact, and more than that – I don’t want to. Due to Manhattan traffic around this time of day, the car Jackson promised was five minutes late. It was a sleek town car, nothing overly special, but I was glad I didn’t have to take the subway or the bus. The driver already had instructions to bring me to Jackson’s nightclub, Lush. I stared out the window at the city lights as we drove through Times Square. The drive took about an hour, and I couldn’t help but beam like an idiot as the car door was opened for me. Am I really going through with this? Yes. You sure as hell are… it’s been long enough. I was expecting to see a line wrapped around the sidewalk leading up to the nightclub, but it was quiet, and there was no bouncer stationed outside just yet. I approached the thick, double wooden doors leading up to the building, unsure if I should knock or call Jackson. As I pulled the phone from my bag, a waitress opened the door for me. She smiled, although it seemed fake. “Ms. Mendez?” “Yes, I’m here to see Jackson.” She continued with the same stiff smile and held the door open wider for me. I was getting a vibe from

this girl that was uncomfortable, even though I had only just met her. She wore a white knee-length dress which was the uniform for VIP waitresses. Her glossy, blonde hair was pinned into a fancy twist at the nape of her neck. “Thank you,” I stepped inside and found the interior to be empty. There was a cleaning crew and a bartender was stocking top-shelf liquor on the glass shelves by the rounded station. The waitress’ heels clicked across the open black-and-white marble of the open floor plan. “Mr. Rochester was held up in a very important meeting, but fortunately, he’s ready to see you now.” As she spoke, the words didn’t match her tone. She led the way down a corridor that was lined with mirrors and we passed the restrooms. She rounded another corner which led to a thick wooden door at the end of the dimly-lit hall. She punched in a code on the keypad by the door and I heard the faint click as the door was unlocked. “Mr. Rochester, she is here to see you,” the woman poked her head in. “Thank you, Amber.” I heard Jackson’s clipped voice. He sounded slightly annoyed, but it could have been from his meeting this afternoon. The waitress gave me a stiff smile, but the glare she cast Jackson didn’t go unnoticed as I entered the office. Okay then… that was weird. Jackson immediately rose from his desk and took two giant steps toward me, never taking his eyes off me. There was something powerful, yet stormy surrounding him this time. His fingers raked along my neck in like caresses as he pulled the denim jacket from my shoulders. I was becoming all too familiar with his scent- a light, yet spicy musk, which enveloped me as he pressed his body against mine from behind. Involuntarily, I leaned my head back against his chest and he chuckled. He inhaled along the nape of my neck, and his warm breath on my skin sent prickles of pleasure down to the very neglected area between my thighs. His hands moved up and down the sides of my body, over my hips and waist. I could tell he was struggling to maintain his control, and his hands desperately wanted to become possessive. “You smell so good, Peach.” His breath was on my ear as he pulled my dark hair to one side and breathed in one more time, from the spot behind my ear down to my collarbone. It was such an erotic, sensuous act, and I felt liquid heat pool within my panties. My breathing paused for a second, and I let out a shuddering exhale. “It’s Peach Bellini, from Bath and Body Works. It’s my favorite.” I somehow managed that in faint whisper, feeling his breath on my skin. “Mm. It’s mine too.” His body towered over mine, while his hands moved up and down my arms, so controlled yet so domineering at the same time. “The things I can do to this body if you become mine…” “Well I hope it includes finishing what you started the other night. That was cruel.” I couldn’t help the remark, even if it came out in a semi-breathless moan. “Oh I plan on doing more than just that. You’ll be crying my name when I’m balls deep inside your sweet, tight cunt.” I sucked in a sharp breath, overtaken by his filthy words. I had no idea he had such a mouth on him. He suddenly grabbed both my arms and spun me around to face him. The dark, wolfish look was in his eyes again as he stared down at me. “I’m going to see your face when you finally come- and it’s going to be so liberating for you.” There was a knock on his office door, and it was enough to pull us away from this overstimulating, crazed state of lust. Jackson pulled away from me and I smoothed my dress. He pressed a button on his desk and the door unlocked. A different waiter wheeled in a cart with silver domed trays. “I hope you don’t mind that I already ordered for us, since I assumed you would be hungry.” “Thank you,” I responded. I was in fact famished. I ate half a turkey sandwich on my lunch break,

which was around noon, and it was going on nine at night now. I watched the waiter silently set the trays on the table and open the dome-shaped lids. The smell of the food immediately wafted toward my nose and my mouth watered. “Is that what I think it is?” I asked, immediately making a beeline for the table. Jackson only grinned. “Chicken enchiladas. A little bird told me it was your favorite.” Hell yes they are my favorite… wait, who’s the little bird? Jillian. That conniving… my thoughts trailed and I could only beam from ear to ear. Jackson pulled the chair out for me and waited for me to be seated before he sat across from me at the table. I wasn’t used to treatment like this from any man, and I did feel a little uncomfortable, but the food looked as good as it smelled. “Does this meet your seal of approval?” He smiled as the waiter filled our glasses with a chilled red wine. “Yes, it does,” I only smiled. “Thank you.” My heart fluttered in my chest and I had to remind myself to keep it in check. “No thanks needed. I’m glad for the company.” His eyebrow twitched slightly as he gifted me with another scorching stare. The waiter took this as his queue to leave and we ate in silence for a few minutes. “Is this a date, or just dinner?” I finally asked after draining my wine glass. Jackson glanced at me hesitantly, possibly a little confused, and set his own glass down on the table. “What do you want it to be?” “I was just curious what you had in mind.” He exhaled, and I could tell he chose his words carefully. “I find you intriguing, Elyse. I’m not going to deny that. But you and I both know that we’re not looking for anything romantic. You’re aware of my preferences, but let’s not get this mistaken for a romantic situation and I don’t think that’s what you want either.” I froze, feeling the wine turn sour in my stomach. My heart dropped like an anvil in my stomach. “You just want to use me for sex.” It wasn’t a question, but a blurted observation. “This is about more than just sex. I want to pleasure you,” he corrected me, adamantly. “You will submit to my will, and in turn, I will pleasure you. If you go against my wishes, there will be consequences.” A dark look crossed his face. “You haven’t been open around me for the last two years. Don’t tell me you’re disappointed. This arrangement can work for the both of us, if we don’t get hung up on romanticized notions. That’s when things get fucked up.” I chewed on my lip as the wine settled in my stomach. Normally I would have asked for another glass, but I wanted a clear head. I’ve read about these give-and-take dominant and submissive relationships in some of my favorite novels. Those stories helped to take the edge off my aching need and they’re sinfully hot. “This is not going to be one of your romanticized chick books,” Jackson added with an authority, it’s like he was reading my mind. “I will bring you over the edge of pleasure, and push you past your limits, but I will never bully you into doing something you are truly uncomfortable with. And each time we’re finished with a scene, I will be there for you. Do you understand what I’m saying?” I nodded. “I get it. I just wanted to clear the air so we’re on the same page.” He grinned, but that carnal look had returned to his eyes. “I’m eager to explore your boundaries and limits.” There was one question in particular that had been plaguing the back of my mind, and I had to ask. “Do you have more than one submissive? How often will I see you?” His eyebrow twitched. “You will be the first steady submissive I've had in two years. Multiple

submissives are not my style.” “Oh.” That’s good to know. “We’ll figure out a schedule together for this arrangement. I know you’re busy with work, school, and your involvement with the youth center. I have my own agenda at the moment, but you can always call me whenever you need me.” “Thank you,” I nodded, finding his terms agreeable the more he spoke. “There are two conditions I demand of you in order for this to work between us.” His eyes suddenly became fiery, as though he was expecting a challenge from me. “By submitting to me completely, you will give me your utmost trust, and with that comes your respect.” Trusting Jackson? I gulped and he keenly noticed my reaction. “Trust, Elyse. It’s a key ingredient.” His eyes demanded my own, and he held my gaze on lockdown. You can trust him. I reassured myself; that thought warmed me but didn’t calm my rampant heart. “Do you want this? Can you trust me?” He asked. “Yes, I want this. I trust you,” I answered. He smirked, and that spark returned to his eyes. “Good girl.” He stood, rounded the table and took my hands, helping me to my feet. Without a word, he led me across his office. The spicy scent of his cologne clouded my senses again, as he towered over me. His large hands gripped my back, pressing me against his body as his lips crashed down on mine with such a fierce intensity that my lips felt bruised. His teeth grazed my lips and his tongue caressed my mouth. “Open,” he whispered a command. I parted my lips for him, and his tongue danced with mine. I tasted the faint tang of the delicious red wine from dinner. Heat coiled within me as his hands held me. I’ve never felt so desired in my life. “Do you submit to me?” His whisper was paired with the nipping tug of my earlobe. “Yes,” I mustered a response. God, I needed this. He kissed me deeply one more time as I felt his hands on my shoulders, and I felt the emptiness of his mouth as he pulled away. Instead, I saw the animalistic look in his eyes as he put pressure on my shoulders, coaxing me to my knees. “Then show me, Peach.” Without a word, I sunk to my knees, and my heart picked up pace as I watched him unfasten his belt. “Eyes up here.” He ordered. “I don’t want only words. I want your complete submission. Show me.” He finished unfastening his pants and pulled out his cock. It was solid, thick and huge. “Oh, my God…” I slipped and said that out loud as it became level with my face. It was so stiff and hard. Every inch was perfect and beautiful, and I was too mesmerized with lust to contemplate his length, but he was at least a good eight inches. “You know what to do, Peach.” He looked down at me, that fiery presence remained on his face. “I want to feel those lips around my cock. Milk me dry.” He held his cock in his hand, and wrapped a hand around the back of my head, pulling me close. I tasted the tip, lapping at it with my tongue, and he sucked in a sharp inhale of breath. This was all the encouragement I needed. I took the entire tip in my mouth, cascading my tongue over the head. I slid my lips farther up, inch by inch, and he groaned deeply. I wrapped a hand around his cock. My fingers didn’t meet, but I pumped him up and down, finding a rhythm that matched my mouth. “Goddamn, gorgeous…” He growled, taking a mass of my hair in a sharp fist. Completely lost in pleasure, he forced my head up and down his shaft. My lips hugged his thick cock snugly, and I was desperately trying my best to please him.

“That’s it. Take it all.” His words were strained, and I enjoyed this empowering feeling. It was incredible. I picked up the pace, sometimes clumsy at times because of his thick girth. He was so lost in pleasure, and hearing his groans made me so wet. I was thoroughly soaked. “Fuck… Fuck…” His fingers pulled on my scalp. Hot spurts of come shot into my mouth and dripped down my throat. He held my head in place as he finished. I swallowed, understanding that his hold on my hair was silent instruction. It was a strange taste and I swallowed before I could think about it. He loosened his grip on my hair, signaling that he was finished. Very slowly and gently, I pulled my mouth away, licking the tip. I ran my tongue along my lips as I looked up at him. His face was crimson and his green eyes were wild. I thought to ask him if I did a good job, but judging by his face and ragged breathing, that would be a stupid question. Of course he did. “Is it my turn now? You owe me.” His face was suddenly incredulous. “That was intense, but in the future during these sessions, you will address me as Sir or Master. And your turn will come later tonight.” “Are you serious?” I rose to my feet and crossed my arms. “You denied me the other night and again right now?” His eyes sparked with something fierce and I shut my mouth immediately. “We still need to establish some rules, I see.” There was something dark on his face, but I think I saw that he was hiding a smirk. “The car will take you back to the penthouse. I’ll be there soon-” A knock interrupted us, and then his cell phone rang. He answered it immediately. “Hi Max. Yes. No, I specifically said the fourth floor needed to be clear. What do you mean it’s missing? Right. I’ll be right up.” He ended the call. “I have to take care of this. It’s nothing major, but the car will take you back to the penthouse. Don’t argue this time.” There was no sense in arguing any further. He really did have a work-related issue and he couldn’t ignore it to give me my turn. “Okay. I’ll see you later tonight.” He kissed my cheek and then escorted me out of his office. As we left the office, he whispered one last demand into my ear. “Don’t you dare come without my word, Peach.” Damn him.



I SAT ON THE BED in the guest bedroom, staring at my bright pink vibrator. I chewed on my lower lip, seriously contemplating the temptation. After Jackson’s cruel torment at his dinner party last week, I was left with no choice but to try to give myself relief. I used it three times this week in a vain attempt at bringing myself to orgasm. Nothing compares to the miracles his fingers did to my throbbing clit before he left me hanging. I flipped from avoidance to impatience when it comes to Jackson. I avoided him to keep myself safe, and now I can’t get enough. He’s powerfully magnetic, and I’ve buckled. But I’m beginning to wonder if he’s just one big tease. He said I’m not allowed to come without his permission, but… I held the vibrator in my hands. I was still wet and aching with need from my last two encounters with Jackson, and it’s going on eleven in the evening now. I had given into temptation and slipped a hand under the waistband of my yoga pants and began to pull them down when I suddenly heard the ding of the elevator in the foyer. I scrambled to secure my yoga pants around my waist and I threw the vibrator into the top drawer of the nightstand just as Jackson appeared in the doorway. He studied me with suspicion and shoved his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. In exchange, I gave him my best angelic smile. He wasn’t buying it. Without a word, he strode over to the side of the bed and opened the top drawer of the nightstand. He held up the bright pink vibrator and raised one eyebrow in my direction. “Did you forget my rule?” He asked in such a domineering tone, I was slightly taken aback. “I didn’t use it,” I responded. “But you were tempted.” He grinned darkly. I wasn’t about to lie. Of course I was tempted, but something told me I shouldn’t sass him right now. “You submitted to me earlier, Elyse. Now get up.” He grabbed me by my arm. It didn’t hurt, but it was forceful enough. He threw me face first over the edge of the bed and kept my wrists pinned over my back. My body tingled with excitement, but I was also a little apprehensive about what was next. “First rule we need to establish is a safe word. You do know what that is, right?” There was such authority radiating off this man, I was overcome by his presence. “Of course I do,” my response was haughty as though I wanted to be punished by his hand. I could feel his smirk as he leaned over my body and his thick, hard hard erection pressed firmly into my lower back. “Choose a safe word, one that you will remember. If you need to use it, I will stop whatever I’m doing immediately, without question.” His voice was seductive. “Choose a word now.” I thought quickly, and blurted the first word that came to mind. “Carousel.” I answered with a giggle. “Interesting choice.” His words tickled my ear, but his hands were not so gentle. He continued to keep my wrists bound over my back with such force. “From now on, you’ll say ‘carousel’ if it gets to be too

much.” “Yes,” I answered as my heart skipped in my throat. “You argued with me.” Jackson stated simply. He peeled my yoga pants down to my thighs and pulled my cotton underwear along with it. My ass was bare to him. It was incredibly arousing to be held down like this, exposed to him. His large hand ran over the skin of my rear, caressing it like it was a treasure. Then he suddenly gripped it, as he leaned forward and whispered into my ear. “When I saw you at my house last week, I wanted nothing more than to spank this creamy ass and bury my cock between these velvet thighs- but I wouldn't. Not without your submission, and your arguments disrespect me, Elyse. What do you have to say for that?” “I’m sorry.” My heart was pounding through the mattress at this point. His handprint left a sharp sting. Holy hell. I gasped. “Are you going to remember this next time?” He demanded. “Yes-” Another sharp smack. “Yes, Sir.” God, this is fucking hot. My entire body was humming with lust. My entire face was hot, and my vulnerable state left me incredibly aroused. He massaged my ass, each cheek in turn, then his hand ran down between my thighs. His fingers brushed along my folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet, Peach.” “You’ve left me hanging twice…Sir.” I strained my neck to look up at him over my shoulder. He looked rugged and positively wild with that dark glint in his eyes. His fingers brushed over my wet slit, teasing. Please, I begged silently. Two thick fingers suddenly shoved into me, stretching me. He kept me pinned to the mattress, bent over the edge with my wrists bound behind my back. His fingers moved at a merciless pace, in and out, in and out. The wet, suction sounds of his incessant fingers rang in my ears. The pleasure was unexpected and overwhelming. My toes curled on the carpet as I cried out loudly. “Is this what you need? Fuck, you’re really tight.” I couldn’t answer against the relentless thrusting of his fingers. He leaned forward, never letting go of his pace as he fucked me with his hand. “Remember, we go by my rules. When you eventually show me that you can be a good girl, you’ll get my cock. Judging by the way your pussy wraps around my fingers, I’ll need to let you get used to my size.” I could only gasp, feeling his weight on me, pinning me deeper into the mattress, as his fingers continued doing their work. He slowed his tempo and rubbed my clit in sensual circles, before he moved his fingers back, deep inside me and curled upwards. I lost all control and cried out deeply. My eyes were watery from the overwhelming sensation. I had never responded to a climax like that before- hell, I’ve never had an orgasm that intense. My entire body was trembling and a tear rolled down my cheek. I wasn’t crying, but I felt very emotional. I was breathless and a bit sore. Jackson released his grip on my wrists and sat me upright on the bed. He pulled the yoga pants and underwear from my legs and kissed my lips hungrily. “You really needed that,” he spoke gently. I responded with a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry I withheld from you the other night,” he spoke as he caressed my hair. There was still authority in his voice, but his tone was tender now. I brushed the stray tear from my face. “Are you alright?” He asked me, studying me with concern. I looked at him and nodded. “I’m fine. Better than alright.” “Do you need to talk?”

I didn’t have anything that I felt he really wanted to hear, so I shook my head no. “I’ll draw you a bath, so you can soak. Are you free on Friday evening?” He asked. I looked at him and nodded. “I get off work at six again.” “I’ll have a car pick you up then.” He drew me a bath, but didn’t stay because his cell phone rang with another work-related call and he had to return to the club. I lay in the warm tub and soaked until my skin was pruny. I contemplated everything that I had been avoiding and my reasons for being afraid of Jackson. That orgasm was not only physical release, but it was emotional as well. I was perplexed, but the mere thought of it left my inner thighs tingling. What have I missed out on for the last two years?



A car will pick you up at six tonight. I READ JACKSON’S TEXT message on Friday morning as I dressed for work. The palpitations and tingles that resulted were pleasurable and tormenting. I answered him once I finished getting ready for my shift: What’s on the agenda for tonight? More talk at the club? Jackson: You’ll obey my every word. We’ll have dinner. I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to love it. A rush of blood flowed south when I read that last sentence. My focus was officially ruined for the rest of the day. I didn’t have a chance to send him another message before my shift started. I waltzed into the Chat N Brew coffee shop with a spring in my step, my heart buzzing with anticipation. My imagination was going a million miles a minute with what the evening could hold. Thinking of his mouth on my skin sent a tremor down my spine. I remembered the way his warm breath felt on the back of my neck, whispering sinful things as his fingers massaged me where I needed it most“Excuse me. Hello?” I blinked and finally made contact with the impatient customer in front of me. A woman with frizzy, bright red hair was standing in front of me. “Do you need me to write that down?” She asked in a rude tone, clearly believing that I’m slow in the head. “That depends. What’s your order?” I asked with a forced, fake smile. With a huff, she repeated. “I said I want a small vanilla latte, triple foam, extra hot.” “Got it,” I answered and gave a silent prayer that I could focus enough to not fuck up any of these drink orders. My break was scheduled for mid-afternoon and like clock work, the bell chimed in the small coffee shop just as I was removing my dark brown apron. An impeccably dressed man in a black tailored suit approached the side of the coffee bar and I overheard my name. “I’m looking for an Elyse Mendez.” He stated to my supervisor. Oh my God. Who is this guy? Why does he want me? I froze for a moment, wondering if my past was catching up with me. He wasn’t in a police uniform though, only a black business suit. “That’s me,” I stated as calmly as possible. My supervisor was intrigued, and a bit nosey. She hung around even while there was a line of customers waiting on their own coffee orders. “Mr. Rochester sent me to bring this to you.” The well-tailored man handed me a small rectangular

white box, wrapped in red silk ribbon. Jewelry? I was beyond confused and began to open the box, but the man cleared his throat and immediately left the shop. I took that as a hint and went to the staff lounge in the back. I sat at the table and placed the box down, and pulled the red silk from the packaging. I can’t remember the last time I accepted a present, especially one so random. I lifted the box and sucked in a shocked breath, and immediately slammed the lid of the box back down and glanced around. The lounge was empty- thank God. My cheeks were flaming hot as I lifted the lid of the box again to peek at the contents. Nestled on a bed of white paper lay a red lace bikini panty with black satin ties on the sides. My heart was in my throat. Is he serious? I picked up my cell phone and immediately dialed him. I didn’t care if he was in a board meeting or sitting down for coffee with the Mayor. My pulse thrummed in my neck as the phone rang. “Hello gorgeous.” He answered just as it was about to go to his voicemail. “You sent underwear to my job?! Why would you do that?” I could practically hear the smirk in his tone. “Because I’m your Dom, and you’ll do as I say. Now pull them out of the box.” I glanced around to make sure the lounge was still empty, even though I would have heard the door creak open if anyone had entered. I swallowed and lifted the panties from the box, and nearly dropped the phone when I found what was hidden beneath the lingerie: a sleek, silver bullet. I pursed my lips, but I couldn’t deny the rush of excitement that flooded my veins. He must have noted the change in my breathing. “Put them on. Now.” His tone was quiet, but adamant. “I’m still at work.” “Exactly. Now do as I say. I want those panties soaked and your sweet cunt ready for my cock. I’m preparing you for tonight.” There was a pause of silence between both of us. “NOW, Elyse. Don’t toy with me.” My heart was pounding, and I felt my pulse in my wrists as I slipped into the bathroom and changed out of my panties. I was already wet with anticipation, and I still had three more hours before my shift ended. I shoved the old pair into my bag and examined the silver bullet before I slipped it where it belonged. The panties fit perfectly, and I wondered how he knew my size. The black satin strings tied at my hips and I secured them into a little bow on each side. I felt the device with every small step I made. It rubbed against my walls as I walked, and within an hour, I was back to work, fulfilling orders. “Are you okay?” A coworker asked me. My face was bright pink and I could barely focus. “Yes, why?” “You just look really red like you have a fever or something.” Great. Just fucking great. My phone buzzed with an incoming message from the devil himself: I’ll know if you come. I keyed an answer back when my supervisor wasn’t watching. This is torture. You’re evil. Jackson: You love it. Admit it. Me: I’m taking this thing out right now. Jackson: Don’t you dare. Your ass will be red later. I bit my lower lip, hiding a smile. I felt exhilarated, frustrated and boiling over with anticipation for tonight. I made subtle threats through text messages, just because it gave me an arousing thrill when I tested him. The bullet continued moving up and down as I walked, massaging every nerve. By the time six o’clock rolled around, I was ready to explode and my eyes were slightly watering. I was desperate to get this thing out and get some relief. I was overstimulated by an exquisite combination of pleasure and torment

that took over my body, straight down to my toes. I couldn’t get out of the coffee shop fast enough. I stood on the sidewalk as I waited for the car to pick me up. I really hoped the cool evening air would be enough of a distraction until I could pull this torture device out. I expected a limo or town car to pull to the curb like last time, so imagine my surprise when a flawless white Ferrari pulled to the curb. My eyes flashed, widening and I momentarily forgot the hum of tormenting pleasure that now had my panties completely soaked. He still likes them white, I thought to myself, and I did my best to push the intruding guilt back down. He stepped out with a charming grin. His tie was already removed from his neck and his crisp, dark blue button down shirt was untucked. The sleeves were rolled, showing off the strength in his forearms, as well as a very flashy rolex in mint condition. “Hello, Peach. How was your day?” He asked with a dark glint in his eyes. I fought the urge to glare at him and say something defiant as I stepped into the immaculate cream-colored passenger seat. “It was eventful, thank you. How was yours?” He closed the door and rounded the car. “Oh, it was just peachy.” His lip curled up half-way as he looked at me from the driver’s side. A lock of chestnut hair fell out of place, brushing across his forehead. That look on his face only reminded me of the throbbing ache between my thighs. “Are you hungry?” He asked me. “I can’t really think about food right now,” I managed to speak as he maneuvered through the Manhattan traffic. He gave a silent, but satisfied smirk. “I agree. I’m starving.” His green eyes flared as he looked at me. We were stopped at red light, and I squirmed under the stare he gave me. The car ride was silent, but the sexual energy between us was electrifying. Jackson reached over and turned on the radio station, and Bruno Mars blasted through the surround sound. I let out a giggle. “I had no idea you liked the top hits,” I teased. “What’s not to like?” He gave me a fleeting sideways glance before returning his focus to the road. “Actually, it’s not really my style, but l know you like it.” He misses nothing. He’s so careful and thoughtful. The guilt stabbed at me a little deeper as the intrusive thought of my past resurfaced. I thought about that white Maserati, and what he must have thought when he found the detailing scratched. The current song faded and a commercial played out. “What kind of music do you like?” I asked. “My tastes are very eclectic.” His response was vague. “It depends on my current mood.” “Alright. What music do you listen to when you’re in a good mood?” He thought quietly for a moment. Drops of rain began to sprinkle the windshield and the wipers moved automatically. “Nine Inch Nails,” he finally answered. I gave him a funny look. “That’s hilarious, but I honestly want to know.” “I’m honestly answering.” He looked over at me and winked, then made a right turn onto a quiet road. I only smiled. I was desperate for any type of distraction. Really, I couldn't think about anything other than Jackson ripping my panties off and relieving me of this throbbing ache. My imagination was starting to run wild with sinful thoughts of what he had planned for the evening, but Apologize by One Republic began playing on the radio and destroyed the mood. A negative stiffness suddenly consumed the interior of the car. I was sure it was based on my own thoughts alone, but when I looked over at Jackson, I saw the dark, stormy expression on his face. His jaw was set grimly and his eyes were narrowed on the road. His knuckles were knotted white as they clutched

the steering wheel. It’s too late to apologize… too late… The radio played the lyrics over and over, taunting me repeatedly. Oh God. The guilt poured over me, much worse than it was earlier. I turned my gaze away from him, and watched the raindrops sprinkle the window beside my head. Jackson reached over and angrily smacked a button, shutting off the radio. Silence. “Enough of that,” he finally stated. “The song is morbid.” He reached over and gently squeezed my thigh, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I admit I was curious why he seemed to loathe the lyrics to that song as much as I did. “What’s on your mind?” “Just thinking about tonight,” I gave a stiff smile. Lies, all lies… my thoughts were entirely elsewhere. I thought about my secrets, wishing I could confess. I wondered how he would actually react if I ever did spill the truth about his family’s car accident, or what I did to his Maserati. Involuntarily, my thoughts wandered toward the consequences if he ever found out. I was playing with fire, but this blaze was attractive and I felt myself lose all sense of self-control when around it. Can I really go through with this and keep my emotions in check? When he grows tired of me, can I move past it? I played with my fingers as I pondered all of this. A lash of pain escaped at the idea that this won’t last forever, but I pushed it down. You can deal with this, because it’s what you want, I reminded myself. There’s no romantic relationship, just strong hands and great orgasms. Pleasure and release. It’s what you both want. Besides, Jackson doesn't seem like the settling type. We left the city. I’ve grown so accustomed to the bright city lights, and the streets here were darker with much less lighting. Jackson pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant, which appeared to be nothing fancy. The parking lot was packed this evening, which didn’t surprise me since it was Friday. “I want to feed you now, because when I bring you through my front door, the only thing I’ll be eating is that pussy.” My heart pounded, and my face was fiery red. His hand guided me by the small of my back into the restaurant, where he already had reservations. We were given a corner table, by the back window. Every table was decorated with a small bouquet of flowers, and a white cloth covered the table and draped down to the floor. The walls were a rustic wood, and the place had a cozy feel to it. His hand remained on my back in a possessive, commanding way as we followed the hostess to our table with a corner window setting. Suddenly, as I was about to sit, a low buzzing stirred inside me. “Oh God!” I exclaimed, capturing the attention of a few nearby patrons. The hostess stopped and turned, looking at me with concern. “Are you okay?” She asked. “Yeah,” I swallowed, feeling the delicious vibrations deep within, massaging every already-sensitive nerve. “I just thought I pulled a muscle.” “Alright,” the hostess gave me a funny look as we sat in the chairs. “Your server will be with you momentarily.” She left the table, giving Jackson one longing eye-over before she stepped away. I glanced at Jackson and saw the evil, sadistic smirk on his face as he watched me. I clenched my thighs, savoring the pleasure and I squirmed in my chair. The buzzing suddenly stopped and I let out a light gasp of objection. “Why are you doing this to me?” I hissed, raking my fingers through my hair. “I told you. I’m getting that sweet pussy ready for my cock.” My eyes widened and I turned to see if anyone overheard him say that. The other couples in the nearby tables seemed preoccupied with their own soft conversations and I turned back to Jackson.

“I might kill you,” I grit my teeth, and the buzzing suddenly whirred within me at a sharper speed this time. I clenched the table cloth with both hands. The pressure was building up and if he kept this up, I’d be breaking his golden rule. “I’d like to see you try.” He gave me a daring grin. The glimmer in his eyes was wicked. The ribbons of pleasure curled up within me. “Oh God, Jackson… I’m going to-” At that moment, the waiter approached our table, and the vibrations stopped, but my eyes were watering from the effort I had to use to keep my orgasm in check. My mind was too foggy to think, as the dull ache within me became a throb. Jackson ordered for both of us, and ordered a glass of white wine for me. I didn’t even care to protest, because my mind was not on food. He reached across the table, and caressed my hand with his thumb and forefinger. The tender touch only added to the agonizing sensation, which caused me to fidget in my seat. I felt that energy between us, an indescribable feeling that I never imagined I’d feel with anyone. I wanted his hands everywhere- on my pussy, my breasts, in my hair, all over. He was deliberately driving me wild and the glint in his eyes proved it. Everything he did was planned and calculated. “I’m going to fucking take this thing out,” I said in a hushed tone. He leaned in and whispered into my ear, his breath caressed my skin. “Not until I say the word. We’re going by my rules, beautiful.” I closed my eyes, easily responding to his every move, but I wasn’t giving up that easily. I bit my lower lip as I gathered my wits. “I can’t wait to get you home,” he continued to caress me with words. I suddenly reached over and grabbed his tented bulge. It was thick, hard and oh, so ready for me. Only me. He let out a shuddering breath, completely caught off guard by my bold move. I watched him squeeze his eyes shut and let out a hiss. My hand massaged him for those few seconds, every contour and inch through his pants. My hand was safely under the table cloth, rubbing him, and his jaw was tightly set as he tried to maintain his control. He suddenly gripped my wrist and jerked my hand away. “You’re going to pay for that later,” he said with such a domineering tone, my smirk faded. I knew he was serious. “I tried to be a gentleman, but you make that damn near impossible.” His hand was suddenly on the back of my head, forcing it lower. “Now you have to finish what you just started.” I hoped nobody saw this. It was easier to play with his cock through his pants under the safety of the tablecloth, but he wasn’t being as discreet all of a sudden. “Get under the table and fucking suck my cock.” He gave a low growl. His fingers curled in my hair, tugging, forcing my head lower. I obeyed and dipped beneath the covering. My heart was in my throat, pulsating in my ears. The rush of adrenaline was intense and amazing as I brushed my fingers along the fabric that outlined his bulge. Very slowly, I unzipped his navy business pants and pulled his cock out. Even in the darkness beneath the tablecloth, I admired every thick inch. My fingers traced along the vein that ran from the base to the tip. Jackson lost patience, reached beneath the covering and pulled my head toward his cock. I wrapped my lips around it, and paused only long enough to admire the trace of red lip gloss that was left around the head. “Mmm,” he groaned tightly, trying to keep it together. He forced my head farther down, and his cock drove deeper into my mouth. My tongue swirled around every inch.

Our server returned to the table with our drink orders, and Jackson loosened his grip on my hair only slightly. The waiter cleared his throat awkwardly. “Your meals will arrive within just a few minutes. I apologize for the wait.” “It’s not a problem. I don’t mind.” I continued bobbing my lips, seeing the small shadow of the waiter’s shoes filter beneath the covering of the white cloth. It was intense, knowing that he probably knew I wasn’t actually in the restroom… I continued the pattern, and once the waiter was gone, Jackson’s fingers curled roughly in my hair and his cock went deep into my mouth. He continued a rhythmic pattern, and grunted just as he filled my mouth. He refused to let my hair go, giving the silent command. I swallowed, even as a bit dribbled past my lips and fell onto my cleavage. Once he removed his grip from my hair, I returned to my seat and smoothed myself into something somewhat presentable. I watched Jackson smirk as he examined me, and I sipped the lemon ice water that was placed at my seat. He grabbed a napkin and reached across the table, and wiped the dribble that had slipped between my cleavage. “Fuck, you’re amazing. Perfect. You have no idea what that did to me.” “I have some idea,” I grinned. He discreetly tucked and fixed himself just before the waiter returned with our dinner. “So, are you still going to punish me for earlier?” I asked with a snicker. “Yes.” His green eyes flashed, and that dominant tone was rich and crisp. Tingles and prickles spread through every inch of my body. Who knew one simple word could sound so erotic?

THE GATES OF HIS New Rochelle estate opened and Jackson pulled to a stop in front of the double entrance doors. The front entrance and side gardens were illuminated with lanterns. I looked around, even as he rounded the car and opened the door like a gentleman. He held my hand in a firm grasp as he led me up to the front door. Once the key was in the lock, he stopped and turned to me. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked me, looking very serious. I looked up at him. I really appreciated the effort he took to make sure this is what I wanted. “I wouldn’t come all the way up here if I wasn’t sure.” He was persistent though, and stared down at me, holding one arm against the doorway. “I’m very serious. Once you step foot into this house, you’ll be mine. My rules, my way.” His playful demeanor was long gone and he was now in Dom mode. He emphasized those words with such authority. The look on his face was hot, intense. “Yes, Sir. I’ll try to be a good submissive.” I looked up at him as I said this, and then impulsively snorted a slight laugh. His eyes narrowed, and he pulled me through the front door. I took in the sight of the large, empty house. There was no doorman to greet us, not a single member of the waitstaff was within sight. “Do you commute to the city every single day?” I asked, feeling the isolation and emptiness within this large yet grand estate. “I keep an apartment in the city. I come here on some weekends and for certain events. It depends on my mood.” “Your mood?” I asked, wondering if he suffered from a manic disorder.

“Enough talking.” He gripped my hips and pressed me against the wall at the base of the grand stairwell, and his lips crashed down on mine with such a carnal hunger. I could barely breathe as his full, perfect mouth controlled mine. His hands were in my hair, holding my head against the wall. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing his body so tightly to mine. I wanted him, all of him, and there wasn’t any going back now… No more running. No more hiding. No more avoiding. Just me, and him. “Are you on the pill? I have condoms, just in case.” How does he manage to make a question like that sound so erotic? “Yeah…I’ve been on the pill. I’ve stayed on top of it since I was fifteen.” “Good.” His teeth grazed my lower lip as he pulled away and he looked down at me, his fingers still curled into my hair. “We’ll go slow tonight. Right now, I just want to get to know your body.” His mouth curled into a devilish grin, and he pulled me away from the wall. His long strides were no competition to mine, and trying to keep up with him made the device inside rub my walls, creating the ache all over again. “Oh God, Jackson. Can I please take this thing out?” I asked, pulling on his hand as I stopped in the hall. He suddenly stopped and turned to look at me with that evil glint in his eyes. The device, silent until this moment, began buzzing deep within me at full speed. I clutched the wall to keep my balance, because the pleasure it stirred was both intense and unexpected. “Jackson…” I pursed my lips, feeling my face turn pink and hot. The buzzing suddenly stopped, but even with my eyes closed, I felt his predatory smirk on me. “What’s wrong, Peach?” “Please let me take this thing out… I’m going to combust!” “Not without my permission.” His tone was authoritative. The buzzing stirred within me at a cruel pace, and I squeezed my eyes closed as I tried to hold myself together. I’ve been in sweet agony for hours now, and this was just making the pleasure unbearable. I whimpered, feeling the pressure build. “Jackson, if you don’t stop it now, so help me- I’m going to lose it!” I grit my teeth in an effort to maintain my control. The vibrations suddenly stopped, but I felt my panties stick damply to my skin. His arms wrapped around me firmly. “My poor, sweet Peach.” I felt his warm breath on my neck as he held me in the upstairs hall. My brain was so fogged with the sinful combination of torment and pleasure, I can’t even remember making it up the stairs. “You smell good enough to eat.” His whisper was a soft growl in my ear, and he suddenly scooped me into both arms, making me feel feather-light. I looked up at him as he carried me down the hall and into a large room. I noticed a large, king-size bed with wooden slats at the headboard, and a black silk duvet was positioned flawlessly. He looked at me with such hunger in his eyes as he set me down in front of him. With controlled slowness, he pulled my shirt over my head. His fingers grazed my skin, from my shoulders, down the sides to my waist. I watched his eyes drink in the sight of my breasts, cupped in the black lace bra. “Eyes on me, Elyse.” He spoke firmly, keeping my gaze locked with his as he unfastened my dark gray jeans. Even as he slid them down my legs, he kept those piercing green eyes on mine. He pulled my shoes from my feet, and then straightened to his tall stature once I was exposed in only a bra and those red lace panties he forced me to wear. Those were completely ruined by this point. With expert skill, he unhooked my bra in the back and let it fall from my shoulders. I crossed my arms over my breasts instinctively, because it’s been years since any man saw me this exposed. He pulled my arms away from my chest and tilted my chin up to meet his face. “I know that was an impulsive reflex, but if you cover your tits in front of me like that again, I’ll bend

you over and punish that ass- more than I already plan to do.” His hand reached around and gripped one globe of my rear in such a way, I knew he meant business. His fingers skimmed up the side of my body and took my breast in one handful. “Tonight, you’ll know how it really feels to be fucked, good and deep.” Heat rushed over my entire body. This man radiated nothing but confidence and dominance. “Now, arms up over your head.” I raised my hands above my head, and he kept that scorching gaze on me as he pulled a tie from the pocket of his pants. Swiftly and fluidly, he looped the tie around my palms and both wrists and then led me over to the bed where he guided me onto my back. He looped the other end of the tie through the wooden slat on the headboard, and then took a long moment to appreciate the sight of me. With less restraint, he unfastened his shirt and pulled it from his body. The first thing I noticed was the tattoos that marked both his biceps and trailed down his forearms. The second thing I noticed was how deliciously toned and muscular his upper body was. His shoulders, biceps, and abs were absolute perfection. He crossed the room and pulled a black blindfold from the top drawer of his nightstand and without a word, slipped it over my eyes. The world went black. I could only hear the soft movement of his strides, and smell the spicy scent of his cologne. His hands grabbed my breasts, one in each hand, lightly squeezing. The scent of his cologne clouded me as I felt the warmth of his body over mine. His lips trailed heat from my neck down to my breasts, where he took each nipple between his teeth and tugged. I gasped, feeling the sharpness of the pain, but it was also complemented by the soft, wet caress of his tongue over my skin. His hands curled beneath the lace of my panties and his fingers slipped into the wet heat. “Mmm. You’re so wet. So ready for me.” His breath was on my belly, just above the lining of the lace. “Please, Jackson.” He didn’t respond verbally, but he pulled my panties down my legs and I heard him breath in deeply. God. He’s an animal. Prickles of heat and adrenaline flooded south and I writhed in anticipation. His thumb and forefinger reached into my folds and pulled out that wicked device, leaving both relief and emptiness in its place. His fingers skimmed over my slick pussy, barely touching, just enough to torment me. “Who do you belong to?” His fingers brushed over me, touching this time. I forgot to answer, because my mind was consumed with the need for more friction. I needed to come so badly. “Peach. Who do you belong to?” I felt the sharp sting as he pinched my nipples and I gasped softly with a wince. “You, you, Sir. Jackson…please.” I let out a gasping breath. He better make up for all these hours or so help me…



SHE’S WET. SO FUCKING wet for me. I promised myself I wouldn’t handle her any differently than I did with my previous subs, but fuck if I didn’t wait long enough for this… I watched her writhe in anticipation, in complete awe of the way she responded to my touch. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen in a woman, and I was on fire. She was still tense, nervous, and I knew her past experiences had everything to do with this. “Can you see anything?” I whispered as I picked up one leg and positioned it over my shoulder. “No,” she said this with an edge of frustration, clearly still struggling with the idea of giving up all control to me. “Good. Just feel. Forget everything for one night and just feel me.” I noted how her breathing paused for a second, and her face and chest flushed. I ran my hands up the creamy skin of her calves, so soft and smooth. She tugged on the restraint of my tie as her chest heaved up and down, more deeply now. “Let go, Elyse.” My hands continued their massaging caress up and down her legs, steadily inching up to her thighs. At my command, her body loosened and she relaxed beneath my touch. I continued working up to her thighs, until my fingers found her pussy. I could smell her arousal. I gripped her knees and forced her thighs further apart for my viewing pleasure. “Jackson, please-” “Don’t speak.” My hands gripped her inner thighs, feeling a carnal hunger consume me. I brushed two fingers over her warm, slick clit and she let out a soft moan and parted her legs further in a voluntary gesture. Her back arched slightly into my touch and I thrust two fingers into her slit. Fuck, she’s so tight. “More, please… Sir.” “Quiet.” I continued moving my fingers into her at a steady, controlled tempo. She gasped and whimpered, writhing with need, pulling on the tie that bound her wrists to my bed. I fucked her with my fingers, picking up the pace to the point that she was crying out. Her pussy clenched around my two fingers, and I knew she was on the edge of an intense orgasm- which is why I withdrew. Before she could even protest, my mouth was on her heat, sucking on her clit. I lapped at her juices and she bucked her hips against my face, desperate for more. Come in my mouth, Peach. My hands held her hips in place pinned against my duvet as I nipped at her clit and fucked her with my tongue. She was so close. So damn close. With a few more strokes of my tongue, she let go with a loud cry and I lapped at the warm honey,

sucking every last drop. “Oh God, Jackson. I can’t even…I can’t take it- don’t stop…” I smirked to myself with my mouth still plastered against her sweet cunt. “Do you submit to me?” Her mind was still in a haze,. “What? Yes, I already told you-” “Tell me you submit to me.” I whispered as I pulled my face away from her thighs. She was frustrated, but the question was necessary. She says she’s submitted to me and I’m not completely buying it. I’m about to show her what she’s been missing all this time. Without a word, I flipped her over so she was ass up, spread for me. I leaned in close to her, and pressed my body against her back, raking my fingers along the skin of her neck. I caressed the area between her shoulder blades. She was still tense under my touch. My hands massaged her more aggressively, yet tenderly, and moved from her lower back up to her neck, and both shoulders and within minutes, I felt her relax. “Tonight is only a taste of what’s to come, Peach.” Her body trembled slightly at my words, and I’d never been so fucking turned on in my life. “Tell me you submit to me,” I pulled her hair away from her shoulders, tugging on it with one fist. The tip of my cock rubbed against her slick channel. She was ready for me. “Yes. I submit, Jackson- Sir.” “Good girl.” Without a word, I thrust deeply and she gasped. The noises this woman makes are unbearable. Exquisite. It’s enough to unravel me. She took every inch all the way until I was balls deep. Her body shook as I took her, and there was nothing quiet about the sounds she made. I pound into her firmly, buried so profoundly, pausing only to grind myself against her clit and it wasn’t long before her body trembled with another intense orgasm. I grabbed her hips and flipped her over, throwing her down on her back. I ripped the blindfold from her face. She blinked and looked at my face, our eyes locking as I thrust into her deeply again. I rocked into her fiercely, slamming into her with every bit of strength I had. Everything I needed to see was expressed in those blue eyes as she looked into mine. Pure bliss, release, and a growing trust. At that point, I was undone. With one last furious thrust, I pulled out and tugged her hair sharply as I marked what’s mine. I watched as I shot streams of my release across her chest. Her tits glistened with my come and I studied every inch of her body, burning the image into my memory permanently.



I WOKE UP THE next morning with sunlight streaming on my face. I rolled over in the bed, enjoying the sublime comfort of sheets and blankets that probably cost more than I make in a month working as a Barista. The subtle, spicy scent of cologne stirred an excitement within me and I opened my eyes. Disappointment and hurt hit me when I realized the other half of this giant bed was smoothed and untouched. Then I noticed a small note, folded in half, laying on the empty pillow where he would have slept. I picked up the small note and read the handwriting, which was probably left in a rush. Unexpected business in the city. I’ll be back but didn’t want to wake you. Breakfast is outside the door. -Jax I bit back a smile, but fighting it was useless. I felt something boiling up within me- it felt like happiness. It was strange. I can’t remember a time I felt so relaxed and content. It felt crazy and new, but I was going to enjoy it. I slipped out of bed and walked across the plush white rug in the bedroom. Jackson’s silk shirt was thrown across an arm chair and I pulled it over my shoulders. His sleeves were still folded, since he likes to keep them rolled past his forearms, but on me, the rolled sleeves fell down to my wrists. After partially buttoning his shirt, I opened the door to find a silver cart in the hall. Shit. I could get used to this every day of my life. Mind blowing sex and breakfast brought to the door? Sign me up. I filled up on eggs, pancakes and bacon and then showered. I had to hand it to Jackson for putting this much trust in me. He left me alone in his bedroom and I was thoroughly tempted to snoop. I was curious to see how much of a manwhore he really was- were the rumors even true? More importantly, I wanted to know him, to understand him better. I opened the medicine cabinet in his bathroom to see if I could find a box of condoms. I found nothing except his toothbrush, toothpaste, a small bottle of aspirin, a set of sleek razors for shaving, a small glass bottle of the cologne I love so much… and a current prescription for antidepressants. I pursed my lips as I examined the prescription bottle and then carefully positioned it back on the small shelf. It’s really not my business, but I wondered why he needed this medication. Was it situational or clinical? That small bottle sent a jabbing reminder that I really didn’t know very much about the man I gave myself to, the man I’m trying to submit to. Everything was so luxurious. I felt like I was staying in a lavish, five-star hotel, on a much-needed vacation from life. By the time I left the bathroom after my shower, the breakfast cart was mysteriously gone. I walked around his bedroom, and admired the way the sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains. A

pair of glass doors opened onto the small balcony which overlooked the water of the Long Island Sound. Everything was overwhelming, gorgeous, and unreal. I wanted to see more of the house. I wandered through the halls of the house, awkwardly passing a cleaning lady. She was older and didn’t seem to understand much English. She only blushed and hurried past me in an embarrassed state, like she knew exactly what I was and why I was there. The halls were empty minus the gorgeous paintings that decorated the walls. I rounded the bannister and walked to the other side of the gigantic house. This end of the home was darker and a dismal feeling hung in the air. The windows were not as large and open as they were on the other end of the house. Heavy, dark green curtains covered every inch of any window within sight. The halls were dark and I used my cell phone as a flashlight. Although the halls were clean, there was a slightly musty smell in the air. Every door was closed, but they were not locked. I went to the farthest room down the long hall, and opened the door. The medium-sized room was an art studio. There were three different easels, and long white drapes covered each canvas. The floor was a white linoleum, and stretched from all four corners. A surround-sound stereo was propped in the farthest corner and shelves were mounted on the walls, although they were mostly bare. I could tell this room hadn’t been used in a very long time, perhaps years. There was a slight smell of old paint. The floor-toceiling windows which lined the walls, were thoroughly covered with soft blue curtains. Everything was unused, and lay silent, and I felt like I had stepped into a scene in a museum. I wondered about the room, and who it was used for. Perhaps one of Jackson’s family members was an artist- maybe his father or mother? The next room I entered was a master suite, complete with a large, four-post king size bed. Two grand armoires in a dark cherry wood were situated beside two matching dressing tables, his and hers. Another musty smell hung in the air: dust mixed with a soft, but somewhat pungent stench of old cologne and perfume. Coins and wedding rings were found on the dressing tables. I lifted a small wooden chest on the lady’s dressing table, which carried an assortment of glass perfume bottles. The wooden chest was bare. Everything remained untouched, and I assumed this room hadn’t been entered in years. A few business suits still hung in the large walk-in closet, but the dresses and female clothing seemed to be absent. This bedroom must have belonged to Jackson’s and Piper’s parents…there was a heavy sadness that hung in the air, and I left the room untouched. I thought about the abandoned bedroom. It’s clear that the deaths of his parents impacted him more than he led people to believe. On the surface, he’s charismatic and confident. Behind closed doors, he’s still hurting. Being in this room, witnessing the hidden pain ripped my chest open. This was a reminder of my mother’s actions, and it slammed me in the face. I was haunted by what she took from Jackson, and by what I was keeping from him. I spotted a door at the far end of the hall. I pushed it open and saw that it was also a bedroom, left just as forgotten as his parents’ bedroom. This room was large, although it was not a suite. Large violet curtains covered the floor-to-ceiling windows, separating the room from any sunlight. Stuffed animals covered the four-post canopy bed. I knew who once slept in this room, and a lingering sadness consumed me, far worse than it had in his parents’ bedroom. Perhaps it was because his sister was so young when she died… I walked around the spacious room, looking at the belongings of a privileged girl who was hardly known in this world. Photos of school friends lined the mirror on the vanity of her dressing table. A small studio was situated off to the side of her room. Two easels were covered in long, white cloths, just like they were in the studio down the hall. Paintings decorated the white walls of her bedroom. So she was the artist in the family…that’s one question answered. PENELOPE was painted in the colors of the rainbow on the wall closest to her bed. I looked over her dressing table, and found old tickets to an ‘NSync concert and an old-fashioned carousel horse. I picked it up and twisted the knob. A soft, sweet chime began playing as the porcelain horses made a slow circle, round and round…

I opened a few drawers in the nightstand beside her bed. I felt intrusive like I shouldn't be doing this... but the desire to know more about Jackson was so much stronger than the nagging tug that told me I shouldn't be doing this. I found a variety of gel pens and old notebooks along with ticket stubs from concerts and art festivals. Just as I was about to close the top drawer, I found a small, hard-bound journal with a pink cover. It came complete with a gold lock and key, although it wasn’t locked. I opened the journal, square in the middle, and began reading the purple gel pen that was written in pretty script. Hi diary! December 9, 1999 It’s PJ! I’m having an awful day. I got a C on my math test. I hate math. Annmarie is having a birthday party this Saturday and invited all the girls but me. I feel like an alien in my own family. Piper is the smart one. Jax is the popular one who is good at EVERYTHING. What am I? Mom says I’ll figure it out but I don’t think so. Ugh. I guess I’ll go paint. Love, PJ My heart was breaking and I felt a lump form in my throat as I turned the page in this girl’s diary and read another entry: December 16, 1999 I won an award for most promising artist today at school and my favorite painting got entered into the town’s art show. I’m so excited and I’m not letting Jax get me down. He said I’ll never amount to anything. I don’t know why he’s so mean. Maybe if mom and dad didn’t fight so much, he would be in a better mood and be nicer to us. Mom said that all seventeen year old boys are like that. Jerks? I’m glad I don’t date in school then. Someone needs to remind him that he’s not God’s gift to the world. He thinks he’s so great, like he’s king of the universe or something. I need to go work on my painting for the art show. I’ll be back soon. Love, PJ Dear Diary, January 17, 2000 I went into the city with my girl scouts troop today. We visited a homeless shelter and gave out sandwiches. Mom and dad helped supply the food. I met a girl my age named Gina and she’s homeless. My heart is so sad for her because she’s 13 just like me and has no home. I think I know what I am. I think mom was right. I can figure it out. Someday, I will get all those kids into a house. I don’t know what I need to do, but mom said I’m never too young to make a difference. Mom and dad are helping me set up a charity for kids in need. I am so excited! Piper is going to help too! I won’t ask Jax because he’s too selfish to care about anybody except himself. I’ll be back soon. I have to do my homework. Love, PJ Dear diary, March 12, 2000 There is so much going on. My head is spinning. Mom and dad were fighting again last night. I don’t know why they can’t just stop fighting. I slept in Piper’s room last night and we talked about my charity and my art show. Piper told me about her college. She got accepted into Princeton. We just

tried to distract ourselves. I don’t know what I would do without her. I wish she wasn’t leaving in a few months. I don’t want her to go but it’s in New Jersey and she said she will come home a lot to visit. Today, mom and dad sat us all down and told us that they are getting divorced. I cried and Jax took his lacrosse stick and threw it through the patio window. Dad was pissed but didn’t say anything. Jax said some really mean things. Dad went into the office and mom, me and Piper spent the day in the park. I think dad is going to make Jax pay for the broken window. Tonight was supposed to be a family dinner at home, but Jax made a huge deal about his art show in the city. We all have to go to his art show now instead. I do want to go, but I wish he liked me more. He is better at painting than me, and he knows it. Someday I’ll be as good as him. I’ll tell you all about the show tomorrow. Love, PJ I flipped the page, expecting to read Penelope’s entry about Jackson’s art show. I was shocked by her description of his behavior, and I was really disliking the way he acted, but I had to remind myself that he was just a teenage boy back then. I flipped a few pages, searching for the entry about Jackson’s art show, and soon realized there was no entry…and there will never be another entry. Sadness gripped me and guilt crept up my body, leaving a sour taste in my mouth. March 12, 2000 was the date my mother was arrested. I still remember, very clearly, how my social worker didn’t whisper quietly enough. She looked at me as though she didn’t know what to do about me, like I was trouble, because “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” My mother was driving away from the city, completely intoxicated, when she struck a car, killing a man, woman, and their daughter. She was taken to the hospital, where they found high levels of cocaine in her system. The police found two pounds of cocaine in the backseat of her car, and cash, which indicated she’d been selling. I know this from overhearing talk. I’ve never been able to thoroughly read the articles. It’s shameful and embarrassing. A tear slipped down my cheek, and my heart was completely broken. Privileged or not, this girl was just a normal teenage kid who was struggling to find herself. So many thoughts consumed my mind. This girl’s diary gave me more clues to the mysterious man who evaded my questions, but I didn’t really like what I found from her diary entries. I placed the journal back in the top drawer, just as I found it and left the bedroom. I couldn’t stand being in this room any longer. I exited the room and quietly closed the door. Aimlessly, I walked back down the hall and entered the forgotten art studio that was left abandoned and now I assumed this was actually once Jackson’s work area. Questions consumed my mind as I walked around the lifeless room. Did he ever see that diary? Does he still paint? I remembered the artist studio downstairs that my sisters used when we attended the dinner party. I didn’t think much of the studio back then. I assumed it was just another accessory to his lavish house. My mind was on Jackson for different reasons at the time. I was so focused on keeping my past private, from not getting hurt by him, I didn’t even attempt to look beneath the surface. I tried the light switch that was closest to the stereo equipment, but it didn’t work. I walked around the large studio, watching soft clouds of dust reflect off the light of my cell phone. I had this intense urge to open the windows and let the afternoon light flood the room. I pulled the curtains back and peeked at the view. The water sparkled on the Long Island Sound, and the flowers provided a splash of color in the gardens below. Everything was beyond breathtaking. Why cover this up? I crossed the room and looked at the variety of CD’s that were on the racks. If this is…or was…Jackson’s studio, then his taste in music is very eclectic. There was an entire rack of music dedicated to Beethoven, Mozart, and Schubert, to name a few classical composers. On another rack, there was a completely different selection of albums ranging from Nine Inch Nails to Deftones. I thought he was joking when he said he listens to Nine Inch Nails.

I found myself standing in front of the covered easels, obviously long forgotten. They were like a tempting fruit, taunting me to take a peek, and I couldn’t resist. I lifted the white cloth on the easel, wanting to see what was hidden beneath, but I couldn’t see clearly in this horribly lit room. It felt like slow motion as I lifted the sheet, inch by inch, away from the thick canvas it covered. Just as I lifted enough to get a view of whatever sat beneath, a light flipped on in the hall and my heart dropped. Jackson cleared his throat and I turned to face him. Even in the dimly lit room, I saw the storm that was written all over his face. This wasn’t like the Jackson I was getting to know. Being in this room tapped his nerve. He’s angry. He stared at me with such solemn silence. His eyes were absent of any glimmer of humor.



Footsteps echoed across the wooden floorboards in the dimly room as he made a slow circle around me. The tension radiated off him in thick waves and he remained pensive and incredibly stoic. For the first time, I saw him through a different light. He continued with the silence, and the only sound that could be heard was the eerie echo of his footsteps as he assessed me keenly. “Do you still paint?” I asked, determined to break the silence. He stopped and looked at me, incredulous at first, and then his eyes held a fire in them that I hadn’t seen before. “What are you doing in here?” He asked in a low tone. There was a growl on the edge of his voice. “Exploring. I was just killing time before you returned home.” “And what have you found?” He asked angrily, like he was on the verge of his breaking point. I stared at him for a long moment, thinking about my response. I wouldn’t mention the diary entries. I wasn’t sure if he knew about Penelope’s diary that was hidden beneath stacks of papers in her desk drawer, but I wasn’t going to bring it up. The things she said were painful. After reading those entries, and witnessing the fact that he never packed up his family’s possessions after they passed away, I knew that he was never able to move past their deaths. PJ’s diary entries gave a strong clue as to why. Regret. Guilt. Pain. I have those feelings too, but for a different reason. I pursed my lips as our eyes met and remained locked. “Jackson-” “Nobody is allowed in these rooms.” His tone was harsh, but conflicted. I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic. I had it right on the edge of my tongue, but I stopped myself. I’m not that insensitive, and I couldn’t bring myself to bite back with a haughty response. “Do you still paint?” He looked at me quietly for several moments, and then he did something that surprised me. Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled the white cover from the easel. The masterpiece before me took my breath away. The painting was so vivid: a white, sandy beach with a trio of wild horses. They were each brown, with various white markings. It was simple, yet serene. The painting was so similar to the one I found in the empty room on the night of his masquerade two years ago, but this one was even more beautiful and detailed. “Gorgeous. You painted this?” I asked the stupid question in a breathy response. I stepped closer, examining the fine details in the white sand, the soft shine in the horse’s eyes, and the reeds that grew along the rustic fence. I felt like I was there with the horses, watching them candidly. “That was on a beach in the Outer Banks, North Carolina. My family vacationed there a few times,” Jackson answered stiffly. “That must have been a sight to see,” I answered.

“It was, and I was more interested in painting those animals than in spending time with my family. I didn’t realize that would be our last vacation together.” The air in the room was suddenly sucked out and everything went cold. I blinked, and he was already covering the canvas with the cloth again. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. The truth was that I was sorry for more than the loss of his family. “Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for, Elyse?” He asked. I shook my head, wanting to get any intrusive thoughts out of my mind. “I meant I’m sorry for what happened to your family. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.” He examined me blatantly and I cringed inwardly. The way he looked at me- it felt like he was pulling every deep, dark secret from my soul. “That sounds very considerate of you, Peach. But tell me, would you grant me the same honor if the tables were turned?” My heart was suddenly pounding. He made me nervous and I was desperately trying to hide it from him. “What do you mean?” “I’m here if you ever want to talk.” He looked at me directly as he spoke, and I felt the blood drain from my face. “Thank you.” It was a ridiculous response, but the safest one I could come up with in that moment. He waited a few minutes more, like he was waiting for me to say something profound, and I felt his eyes on me, boring holes through me. Then there was a shift in his movement. “I don’t want to talk right now. I want to play.” I felt a firm grasp on my scalp and I was pulled forward. He controlled me by my hair and forced my gaze up to meet with his. A low smirk crept up his mouth. “And you’re going to be my little fucktoy.” Holy hell. That’s hot. Those words were enough to make my bare toes curl as prickles of heat spread through my body and settled in my core. He yanked on my hair. “Isn’t that right, Peach?” “Yes.” “Yes, what?” “Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.” My heart was a jackhammer in my chest, ready, wanting, needing more. I wanted to play with him. I wanted to be his toy, and most of all, I wanted a distraction from this moment and from the mood we were in. “Good girl. This way.” He directed me out of the room, never letting go of my hair.

I WAS BROUGHT INTO his kinky room, where he stores all the toys and props, at the far end of the hall. The lights flicked on as I entered. My hair was released and he guided me into the center of the small room. “You seem to have a decent idea of what most of these things are,” he said with a rich, assertive tone as he gestured toward the play equipment that was neatly organized on mounted hooks. I glanced around at the floggers, cuffs, chains and rope, before my gaze flickered to the canes and riding crops that were organized on racks. My attention went back to him immediately when he spoke again. “I want to know what interests you. What are your deepest, darkest desires?” His voice was dark and dominant as he circled around me, trailing a finger from the line of my jaw down to my neck. The simple contact alone

sent a shudder of pleasure down my spine. I could hear my own breathing as the entire room remained silent, waiting for my answer. My deepest, darkest desires? I felt put on the spot, not having the first clue what I wanted“Tell me your fantasies, Peach.” I inhaled and exhaled, feeling my breath shudder as it escaped my lungs. Nobody’s ever cared to ask me this before, and I wished I had an answer. I thought about my favorite novels, my favorite romance stories that gave me the escape from reality I craved so badly. “Tell me your fantasies, Elyse, or I’ll bend you over right here and spank it out of you.” His voice was so rich, almost taunting and his right eyebrow lifted ever so slightly while those eyes glittered darkly. Fantasies? I just want to find a man who can do to me what I read in my books… Somehow, I felt that response was pathetic. I tried to think quickly, to think of an answer that would be satisfying for the both of us but I couldn’t come up with anything that would intrigue the obvious sexual prowess or experience of his caliber. He was losing patience at my lack of answer and he stepped forward sharply. “Elyse-” “I don’t know,” I finally answered hoarsely, interrupting him at the same time. My response was laced with shame; I knew I shouldn’t place my worth on whether or not I pleased him, but I didn’t want to be boring. The feeling was wrong, I knew it, but that didn’t change how I felt. His expression suddenly softened from one that was ready to discipline and fuck hard, to a look of genuine concern. His took my chin sternly, but gently in hand and forced my eyes to meet with his. “There is nothing to worry about, Elyse. No judgment. I don’t care how bland or how hardcore your imagination is. I just need to know.” His perfect, full lips curled into a slight smirk. “You can’t convince me you have no fantasies. That’s bullshit. We all have desires.” His gaze was scorching as he kept it fixed on mine. “Now, let’s try this again. What are your fantasies?” I felt embarrassed at first, not having any real fantasies outside of the novels I read and then it occurred to me: it’s a simple answer really. What do I want from Jackson? He’s been the central focus of my innermost desires for the last two years, no matter how much I tried to deny that truth. “I want to be teased, fucked. I want to be spanked and tied up. I want orgasms. Lots of them, and I want to learn what I like…” My voice trailed as another thought came to mind. “I want to feel liberated.” I kept my eyes on him as I searched his expression for any indicators about his feelings. In my opinion, I just gave him the most vague, boring answer ever. He smiled instead, and it was one that reached his eyes. “That’s a start. And how do you want to be teased, fucked… spanked?” His grin was absolutely wicked now. I could only imagine what was going on in his mind- all the wolfish, sinful plans he had for me. The idea made my stomach flutter, my heart palpitate and my pussy clench with wet heat. “I just… want you.” It was an honest answer, a little more impulsive and unfiltered as I was caught up in the heat of the moment. He only laughed. “We’ll start slow and explore together.” “What are your fantasies?” This question had the wheels in my head spinning, and I was dying to know. What fantasies does a man like Jackson Rochester have? He’s probably been with a dozen models and gorgeous women. Maybe he doesn’t have any fantasies left. Maybe they’ve all been fulfilled. “You don’t ask the questions. You answer what I ask of you and we’re keeping the focus on you, not me. Is that clear?” He dared me to defy him with one little remark. When I said nothing, he turned my whole body to face the display in the storage. “Go choose three things that intrigue you the most, three things you want to try. And I’ll show you three of my choices.” His breath was on my neck, then he pulled on my ear with his teeth and gave my ass a firm, solid smack. I was suddenly overwhelmed as I looked around at all the options: flogs, paddles, canes, chains, cuffs,

probes… I felt his eyes on me as I wandered around the room, trying my damndest to make the best selection. The truth was that I wanted to try more than three things. But he specifically stated three. What did I want most, more than anything else? It was a difficult choice, but I knew he’d let me pick three more options later on if I deserved it. He never pressured me into choosing one item over another, only waited patiently. After a considerable deal of internal debate, I finally chose a blindfold, a sturdy set of leather cuffs and nylon rope. Dutifully, I brought it to Jackson and he smirked when I held it out. “You like to play it safe.” He took the blindfold, coil of rope and the leather cuffs and set them on a nearby bench. “Now it’s my turn. I’ll show you what I like, but don’t feel pressured to go along with what I pick.” He glanced over his shoulder at me, and flashed one hell of a grin. It was dark and devilish. Playful. I watched him waste no time in choosing his three items: a leather collar with a silver lead, and a wooden riding crop with a smooth, bulbed handle. Holy fuck. I was reeling from the idea of a collar. He looked at me pointedly. “This is considered a collar of play. You’d only wear it during certain times as I see fit when we’re in our play sessions. I want to collar that sweet neck and make you scream my name as I fuck you in every way imaginable.” I think I stopped breathing. “What do you think? Should I set these on the bench or put them back?” “You tell me. You’re the Dom.” “This isn’t about me being a Dom. This is about exploring what you’re comfortable with, Elyse.” “I want to keep them,” I blurted, but then a small smile curled up my lips. My face was red hot as I thought about Jackson collaring my neck, pulling me to my knees while he commanded me to suck his cock. I shouldn’t want this, but I’ve read scenes like this before and I couldn’t refuse the idea as it was offered to me in real life. Still, I wanted to know this man. “What are your limits?” He paused a moment, not immediately facing me. “Within our arrangement, I don’t have any limitations sexually. My personal limits are of another matter entirely.” “Oh?” “I’ve had issues in the past with submissives asking too many questions.” He surveyed a few other choices as he thought quietly to himself. “Questions about my family, and snooping- those are my limitations.” I remembered the contents of Penelope’s diary, and I nodded. “Alright.” He looked at me, giving a direct stare with a single, arched brow. “Yes…?” “Yes, Sir.” The dark spark was back, and radiated off him in waves. “Good. Now that that’s settled...” He grabbed the items from the storage room in one hand, and wrapped his other hand very firmly around my arm. He led me away from the room and down the hall. “Look at me,” his command was smooth and confident as he spoke. I looked up at him as we faced his large, four post bed. His hand wrapped around my neck as he pulled me in for a kiss. His lips were sensual, warm and dominating as they parted my mouth to greet my tongue. My entire body was on fire and I was ready to melt. With one hand still wrapped firmly around my neck, his other hand trailed down to the thin cotton of my panties, and pushed the fabric aside so he’d have complete access. “Mm.” He groaned, quite pleased, when he felt how wet I’d become. His fingers massaged my folds tenderly and delicately at first. The pleasure was enough to cause my body to sway into his, but his hand held me steady. His fingers continued stroking in smooth motions, massaging me and flicking my clit every so often.

“Oh please...please…” I began begging. My brain was so fuzzy, I could have been asking for anything. This all felt really fucking good. He didn’t respond, but continued to caress me, rubbing my clit before slipping two fingers deep inside. I let out a moan and dipped my head back. “You’re so fucking wet.” His harsh whisper in my ear sounded more like a growl. Then he peeled the shirt and panties from my body. Instinctively, I almost covered myself with my hands, but stopped myself. He took a long moment to admire every inch of my body, and then retrieved the collar from the nearby table and looked at me directly. He studied me as he held it up to ensure it’s what I really wanted. His hand was in my hair, fisting it into a ponytail as he moved it out of the way. Dutifully, I held my hair up so he could buckle the thin leather in place around my neck. “Feels good?” He asked sternly. “Yes, Sir.” I pursed my lips to hide my smile. It’s amazing and intense what the simple snap of a leather collar did to me. It’s like every care and every worry I’ve had for the last twenty-four years had been erased in that moment. I only had Jackson, my Sir, to direct my attention. The strap was in place and he pulled on the lead, forcing me to step closer to him. He continued taunting me, teasing me, causing me to moan and beg for more. Finally he spoke a single command. “On the bed, knees and elbows, ass up for me. Do it now.” He dropped the lead and gave my ass a rough smack as I walked toward the bed. My heart raced at an exhilarating speed. I’d never felt more alive, or more sexually charged than I did in this moment. I quickly obeyed, positioning myself as he dictated. My weight was supported on my elbows in the center of the bed, legs spread, ass up. I was exposed. Vulnerable, but not afraid or nervous. He made me wait a few minutes, situated like this and it was deliberate. The anticipation made me more wet, if that was possible. His hands were on my lower back, fingers trailing up my spine ever so lightly as his body moved to the bedside. Without a word, the silk of a black blindfold covered my eyes. His movements were so tender, so gentle and it made the slip of the blindfold so erotic. The world was suddenly black, heightening my other senses. The foot of the bed caved in to his weight as he moved, and I felt something sleek, but firm fasten around my ankles. The same was repeated with my wrists. Now I was collared, blindfolded, and bound to his bed. “What is your safe word?” “Carousel.” “Very good, and how does this feel?” He asked, and I felt his breath on my back as he spoke. “Good, Sir.” That was an understatement. “That’s my sweet girl.” He responded, and I suddenly felt his tongue there, right on my most sensitive spot. Warm and sensual, he licked up and down as he massaged me with his tongue. My gasp was a moan as he slipped his tongue inside and parted my folds for better access. Inch by inch, I felt his body move up the bed, hands digging into the flesh of my ass as he coaxed me to sit on his face. As I complied, and lowered myself, his tongue became rougher on my pussy. “You don’t come until I tell you. Remember that.” His hand left three reddened prints on my ass and then he resumed the torment of his magic, miraculous tongue. The buildup I felt within was growing, begging for release. “Please let me come,” I begged. “Please, please..” My pleas were intensified whispers as I ground my teeth to keep myself in check. “I’m not ready for you to come yet, Peach.” His growl was muffled against my wet heat and I squirmed against the scruff of his stubble. His tongue continued working, followed by fingers that fucked me deep, and I was biting my lip to keep this orgasm down.

“Please, please.. please…” I begged like a damn broken record, desperate for release. His hand struck down on my ass again. “Quiet.” My fingernails dug into the skin of my palms as I curled my fingers. Involuntarily I writhed against the soft scratch of his face as his hands moved up and down my thighs at a possessive rate. Then his face left my pussy as he inched farther up the bed, his body still between my thighs, beneath me. I was left with temporary relief and longing as his mouth left me. I still couldn’t see anything, all I could do was feel. The lead on collar was suddenly yanked, forcing my mouth down to his. His lips were warm, still wet from licking me, and his tongue drove into my mouth as his hand still gripped the lead. “Taste yourself on my mouth,” he grunted against my lips, and I felt him position himself completely beneath me. I did taste myself, and it was strange, but I liked it. His mouth was rough, but not overbearing, as he kissed me intensely. “Who do you belong to?” He asked, yanking on the lead on the collar to emphasize the question. “You, Sir. I belong to you.” “Damn right.” There were no other words. Since I couldn’t see, I fixated on my other senses- the spicy scent of his cologne still on his warm skin, the way his chest heaved the closer he got to fucking me, the way my heart bounced around in my ribcage, and the way the tip of his thick, solid erection poked at my opening. “Now, Peach, you’re going to fucking ride my cock. Understand?” He growled, again tugging on the lead. “Yes…” I mustered a response, purely overwhelmed by the lust I felt in this moment. He jerked the lead one more time, but still kept a grip on it. “Yes, Sir.” “Good girl.” As he said this, he bucked his hips, grabbed my waist and plunged deep into me. He controlled all my motions at first, forcing me to grind against his cock as I cried out. “Feels good?” He grunted with a strained voice. “Yes.. oh God, yes…” “You fucking feel so good. Your cunt is the prettiest I’ve ever seen.” He kept his strong hands grasped around my hips, pausing only for a second to gently tuck some hair behind my ear, and then he began throwing me up and down on his cock. “F..uck…” I heard the sounds he made and it only stirred the lust that boiled deep within me. Again and again he hit my sweet spot, and I was afraid I might break his golden rule. Then he stopped and ground against me, rocking my hips on his cock, alternating between grinding and bouncing. “That’s good, you beautiful, gorgeous girl. Just like that,” he groaned as he fucked me. “Come now, for me. Do it now.” Thank the heavens. I was ready to explode. My nails curled into my palms as I allowed the orgasm to rip through me. It was the most intense, crazy feeling I’d ever experienced, and even my toes curled from the sparks of pleasure that sent aftershocks throughout. It was enough to cause tears to run down my face. He continued thrusting during my climax, but didn’t bother to pull out when he reached his own peak. I felt him groan and grunt against my breasts as he gave in to his orgasm. Breathless, he lay under me and I didn’t move until he gave the word. He caressed my hair, tucking it tenderly behind my ear, and ran two fingers along the side of my face as he trailed them just beneath my jawbone. He wasn’t quick to move away from me or go wash up. “You were amazing,” he whispered. “Shower with me.” “I’d love that...” I smiled, still in a post-orgasmic fog. I kissed his chest and he brushed the tears from my face before he maneuvered himself from beneath me. Tenderly, he unclasped the cuffs that bound me, and unbuckled the collar, and then I was led into the shower.



Elyse: I have a surprise for you ;) THE MEETING WITH my accountant and financial team was moving at a slow pace, and it was a foolish move on my part to plan the meeting late in the afternoon on a Friday. The view of the Manhattan skyline was a welcome distraction from the spreadsheets and year-to-date profits. The voices of my accountants were muffled as my thoughts wandered toward my muse, my new submissive. As the meeting droned on, my mind was on the curve of her mouth, the way her lower lip naturally pouted and the way her tongue snaked around my cock. But mostly, my thoughts were consumed with how much I wanted to kiss her, to feel the way her body melded to mine when I possessed her completely. A few members of my team glanced at me as I read Elyse’s message. She’s submitted, but not completely. Still, I appreciate the effort and grinned as I sent her a response. Me: I love surprises. I’ll see you on my estate when you finish work tonight. Elyse: I’m already here. I’m ready and waiting, Sir. Me: I have surprises for you too. Elyse: You’ll have to find me first. I smirked at my phone. She’s playing a game, without my permission, and fuck if I’m not intrigued. I’ll have to punish her, or reward her, depending on what she’s playing. “What is your opinion on the situation, Mr. Rochester?” My advisor’s question pulled me back to the drab office meeting. Fuck. I had no idea what had been discussed, so I cleared my throat and leaned back in my chair. “I’m currently debating the best choice of action. What are your thoughts?” “Over the last two months, inventory is not matching the profits. We have a few options, but I’m concerned that this is becoming a pattern.” He proceeded to explain what I’d missed. Over the last two months, the profits of my premium liquor wasn’t matching the expected income. I was actually losing money, and while I was daydreaming about Elyse’s delicious tits and sweet pussy, my advising team was voicing their concerns about the small, but steady pattern of profit loss. This only meant one thing: someone at my nightclub, Lush, had been stealing bottles of my straight bourbon whiskey - a favorite among my high end clientele. The theft had only been a few bottles at a time, but it’s still thousands of dollars worth of inventory. I had a few theories in mind, but I gripped the armrest of my chair in an effort to maintain my composure. I hate theft. I hate dishonesty. Most of all, I hate when my employees treat me like I’m an oblivious shit. I wanted the security footage checked, and then learned that someone had disabled the cameras around

the bar area between the hours of seven pm and three am on two specific dates. I still had a few choices in mind regarding the thief. It was sloppy work on their part, but I ordered an entirely different, discrete system to be installed in and around the bar area. I was ready to catch that fucker red-handed when my next shipment arrived. After the meeting, there were too many last-minute matters to resolve, including the order of new surveillance equipment. I was livid, feeling that I put too much trust in my staff, that maybe I was too nice. Because of this incident with the books, I didn’t catch a town car to New Rochelle until after seven-thirty. By then, I was raring and ready for my submissive. The same submissive who taunts me with her text messages. Me: I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait for me by the front door. I sent her that message and then reclined back against the leather seating of the car and imagined her beautiful figure knelt in the position I taught her, waiting and ready. She didn’t answer, but I didn’t expect her to respond. I’d rather she do what I instructed than give some sort of retort. When I walked through the front door to my mansion, she was not in the waiting position as I instructed. All my frustrations from the day flared up as I walked through the foyer. I threw my keys down on the glass table by the entrance. I was fucking irritated. “Elyse.” I called out, not intending for my voice to come out in a growl. Silence. Now I was pissed. My employees seemed to think I’m a moron, and my own submissive was trying to top from the bottom. This warrants punishment. As I approached the hall leading into the dining room, I found a red silk robe lying on the hardwood floor. I picked it up, and inhaled the lightly sweet fragrance of peach. It still felt slightly warm from her body. “Elyse. I’m not amused. Come to me.” My gruff voice echoed through the empty rooms. There was no sound until my phone chimed with a message. Elyse: Come find me. Annoyed. Intrigued. Hard as a rock from this foolish game. A combination of emotions boiled within me as I walked through the rooms, hearing the echo of nothing but my own shoes. My foot caught the black lace of a bra. Again, the light, sweet scent caught my nose. Perhaps this game wasn’t so foolish after all, but still… “Come out, little mouse.” I flicked on a light in the library as I entered and was both disappointed and thrilled when I didn’t spot her. She was racking up points for discipline, and that only added to the excitement. I wondered what kind of goddamn Dom I was for allowing this to happen and actually taking enjoyment in it. Elyse: Give up yet? ;) My lip curled into a predatory grin, and I dialed her number. I held the device to my ear, hoping I’d hear the familiar ring tone so I could hunt her down and give her the fuck she deserves. She must have silenced her phone. I had no way of tracking her. The halls were dimly lit as I made my way to the other side of the house, and that’s when I found a single silk stocking at the bottom of the stairwell. I could sense her presence close by, watching me from the bannister just above. “You better pray I don’t find you, mouse. I’m going to take that sweet little body and bend it to my will, before I give you the fuck of your life.” The words were a snarl, even though I was enjoying the hunt immensely.

There was no response, but another black silk stocking greeted me at the entrance to the first corridor. I ran my hand along the wrought iron railing of the bannister as I prowled like a wolf, searching for my disobedient little mouse. Close. I was so close, I could feel it. My mind was spinning, consumed with all the dirty, nasty things I was going to do to her sweet cunt once I caught her. I wouldn’t stop there. I’d have her mouth, her ass, punishing and pleasuring at the same time. I was overstimulated, ready to combust as I brainstormed the equipment I’d use on my little mouse when I catch her. I wanted her screams to tear paint off the walls as she cried out my name over and over again. Now on the other side of the bannister, I caught the brief movement of a figure as it darted from one room to another across the shadowy hall. All the aggravation and stress of the day was wiped away as I continued the hunt, closing in on the prey. Her movements were close to the storage room. How convenient. I kicked in the wooden door to my special room and glanced around, finding it empty, minus the equipment I kept hidden. My eyes scanned everything keenly for any clues before I grabbing a thin coil of rope and a few other objects on my way out. Something hit the floor in the room across the hall. It was probably a vase or small lamp. Now that I had some choice possessions in hand, I was more determined than ever to find her and teach a good lesson. I was careful not to make a sound as I made my way across the hall. I set the few collected items on a table outside the room and was pleased to find the door open just a bit. The room was dark, and a small crack of light from the hall illuminated this forgotten room just enough. I walked around the room, and heard a muffled giggle escape from the farthest, shadowed corner. That’s when I spotted the contours of her silhouette by the window. The moonlight illuminated the heart shape of her face, and our eyes met for the slightest moment before I closed in. With a small shriek, she darted past the window and around the vintage lounge chair, but her small frame stood no chance against my larger frame. I lunged and she yelped as I grabbed her, arms ensnared tightly around her body, constricting her arms to her sides. “You sly, naughty, disobedient girl. You’re mine now.” The growl was low against her ear. She’d been laughing as she struggled to escape, thoroughly enjoying the game she’d created. She’d been squirming, but when I whispered that dark vow in her ear, she stilled. Her breath caught, and I felt the warm flush of her skin as my arms kept her bound against my body. With a fistful of hair, I turned her to face me; now that she was in my possession, she wanted exactly what I needed from her. My movements were controlled as I wrapped one hand around her throat and kissed her mouth with a burning need, angling her face upwards so I could flick my tongue into her mouth. A soft moan escaped her lips and only taunted the growing hunger within. Her breathing hitched as her body became malleable at the command of my hands. With my fingers still curled around the delicate skin of her throat, I kept my mouth on hers and backed her out of the room. My hand still on her throat, I grabbed the collar from the table and strapped it around her neck, continuing to devour her sweet mouth as I locked it in place. I tugged on the leather to show exactly who’s in charge, and pulled her toward the wrought iron railing of the bannister. I locked the cuffs in place, binding her wrists to the black iron railing that overlooked the parlor below. She was in nothing but a red satin thong as she was bent over the bannister, ass out just the way I wanted. She glanced over her shoulder, wide blue eyes stared up at me, pleading. I had her undivided attention now, and I was ready to fuck. But first… I grabbed the flail style flogger from the table and slapped it firmly against the leg of my pants as I approached her. Her eyes flashed and widened as she watched me approach, intent on punishing her for her disobedience. “When I arrived at the front door tonight, what did I require of you?” My voice was low, almost a

growl. My fingers scraped up and down her back, leaving a light red trail and I took pleasure in watching the change in her breathing pattern. She took too long to answer, which resulted in the sharp tug on her scalp. “You wanted me knelt and waiting, Sir.” Her face was so flushed as I brought her gaze up to meet with mine. Pupils were dilated, and her breath was a shudder as it escaped her lungs. “Mmm. And were you knelt and waiting when I stepped through that door?” I slapped the iron railing with the flogger, and she flinched. “No- Sir.” “That’s right. You weren’t. You were playing fucking hide and seek around the house. You know what that’s called, Peach?” I smacked the railing three times to emphasize my point. “No… Sir.” She whispered. “It’s called topping from the bottom and it’s disrespectful.” With that, I struck her exposed ass with the flogger and she yelped from the sting. “Do you want to disrespect me?” I asked, my tone demanding with authority. “No, Sir.” The flogger left a red streak on her creamy skin, again and again, before I massaged the area and then caressed the damp spot in her panties. Another shuddering breath escaped with a moan as my caresses became more vigorous. “Do you like it when I make you feel good?” “Yes. Sir.” “Will you disrespect me again?” “No. No, Sir.” “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” “Yes. Yes, Sir.” She nodded profusely, but my eyes trailed down to the way her tits moved up and down as she breathed. She remained cuffed to the railing, bent over, ass jutting out in that little strip of red satin. She glanced up at me, eyes pleading. If I’m going to be perfectly honest, I fucking loved the little game she played. I remember the days when my family first passed away, I was desperate for anything that would take my mind off what happened or how I treated them. When I’m around Elyse, I forget all of that. Just being with her is the best drug. I didn’t want her to believe I was upset with her about that sexy as fuck game of hide and seek she started. I hadn’t enjoyed anything as much in years. But this is what she needed from me. She needed me to be the Dom; this is what she wanted. She just didn’t know how differently I treat her from my past submissives. I kiss her more and I crave her so much more than I ever did anyone else. But I still needed her trust, completely and undoubtedly. My hands gripped the sheer satin that criss-crossed around her hips, and it tore with such ease. She gasped as the fabric fell in shreds by her feet, and then I gave her ass a firm spank before I released her hands from the railing at the bannister. The cuffs remained around her wrists, because I had other plans. “Hands behind your back,” I ordered and she was swift to obey. I bound her wrists behind her back and then led her, by the collar, back to the room where she hid earlier. The light flicked on as we entered. The room was on the smaller side, and was once used as an old family library. The vintage green lounger in the center was imported from Italy many years ago and it was perfect for the type of fuck I had in mind. “On your knees, mouth open.” I pushed her down forcefully and she knelt, eyes fluttering up at me. Her pink lips parted into an “O” as she waited. I stared down at her sharply and she blinked under my scrutinous gaze before my hands unfastened the belt.

“Do you enjoy being my little pet?” There was nothing sweet or caressing about the inflection of my voice. “Yes,” she nodded as she answered. “Does it thrill you that I can fill you up, claim you and possess you like no man ever will?” My hand wrapped around the slender arch of her neck. “Yes, so much. I need it,” she answered. “I know you need it,” my hand caressed her hair firmly as she continued her gaze up at me. My cock was so hard, throbbing at this point. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to come in her mouth or in her pussy. I pulled out my cock and let her stare at it, and then she leaned forward to take it into her mouth, but I snagged her hair and pulled her head back. I palmed my thick, veiny length with the other hand as I stared down at her, and she squirmed, hips writhing as she watched me fist myself. I could almost feel and taste how wet she was just from the sight of my dick in my hand. “On second thought,” I pulled her up, the fistful of hair still in hand. I walked her over to the lounger and made her watch as I pulled my pants off and tossed them to the floor. I reclined back and watched her lick her lips and nibble on the bottom lip with lust flashing in her eyes. “Sit on my cock.” She moved forward, and I grabbed her gently once she was within reach, and steadied her as she lowered herself on my cock. Her hands were still bound behind her back, so she needed my help to steady her body. The thick head of my cock brushed past the lips of her pussy and I could feel how slick she’d become. Fuck. I needed to fill her up so completely, so thoroughly. With a harsh thrust, I pulled her hips down to meet my cock. Her tight muscles wrapped around my cock as every inch drove into her with such animalistic intensity. She cried out, but writhed and swiveled her hips against me. My hands squeezed her tits, two perfect handfuls. “That’s it baby. You’re mine. This pussy is mine.” I groaned in her ear, and nipped at the skin of her neck as she continued grinding, our bodies moving in a fluid, constant motion that was quickly bringing us both to the edge. “I’m yours,” she whispered involuntarily, in the throes of pure pleasure as I bounced her on my cock at a rough pace. “Damn right you are,” my response was gruff as I grasped her hips, knowing my fingerprints would be on her flesh the next day. I kept one hand firmly on her hip, while I tugged on the leather collar around her neck, never slowing the pace as I thoroughly fucked her. “Oh God, yes! Oh Jackson…” she moaned and I reveled in the cries and noises she made, especially as I took her beautiful breasts into my mouth and roughly sucked on each one in turn. Her breath was a shudder against my neck and I slowed the pace just so I could kiss the perfect curve of her mouth. She returned the kiss with such an intensity. It was more than lust, and in that moment, I knew I should be alarmed by the heat of the kiss… but I wasn’t. I wanted more, like a drug. We continued fucking, kissing, nibbling. She bent forward and bit lightly at the skin on my shoulder, where the black ink of my cross ended. That simple nip stirred such a carnal intensity within me, and I became more furious as I took her. Her insides flexed and tugged around my cock until she cried out in orgasm. I didn’t relent, not even when a few tears rolled down her face. Seeing her in exquisite ecstasy threw me over the edge. I gripped her hips, pulling her down tightly as I released deep within her. She gasped, breathing deeply as she collapsed on top of me. Her face lay against my chest, and neither of us was in a hurry to disconnect. As she lay like this, catching her breath, I unbuckled the leather cuffs that kept her wrists bound behind her back. “You fuck like an animal,” she whispered, still breathless and I grinned at the compliment. My fingers caressed her hair in soft, gentle strokes as she remained on top and it was when she nearly

dozed off, that I whispered a simple promise in her ear. “I want you to trust me, Elyse. I will always protect you. You don’t have anything to fear.” “Mm.” She responded sleepily by nuzzling against my chest. I carried her to the bedroom to let her rest for now, but the night was still young.



THE WEEKS PASSED, and I continued my regular routine of work, school, and the youth center. Except now, Jackson was a regular part of my daily routine, even if it’s just a text or phone call from him on the weekdays. We spend most weekends in New Rochelle. He continued to challenge me, pushing my boundaries without pressuring me to try something that really made me uncomfortable. Everything he did was performed with such expert skill and technique and the more time I spent with him, the deeper the truth set in: I had feelings for him. And sometimes, I even felt a little jealous at the idea that he’s had so many partners before me. Working in the coffee shop was getting more and more difficult as I spend more time with him. I struggled to keep my focus in check almost every day lately, because my mind was constantly clouded with so many pressing matters: my grades, Jackson’s words, PJ’s diary, and the confession that I should make, but am terrified to tell. “I want a large decaf mochaccino with extra whip, hold the milk and make that with soy,” I listened to the customer in the coffee shop state her order, speaking slowly, like I can’t handle more than two words spoken at a time. “Right. And you said you want whipped cream with that, but made with soy milk?” I asked. “We don’t make whipped cream with soy milk, Ma’am.” I stated this politely, because her order contradicted itself. “I know that,” she huffed. Well, okay then. I took her order and started on her drink. The shop was quiet today, being the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday. I was expecting the crowds to pick up in the next hour when schools let out for the day. “Jean!” I called out with the woman’s order and she took it without a word. She sipped it and then scrunched her nose. “This is hot!” She snapped. “Yes, it’s coffee.” I spoke slowly, like she was a five-year-old who didn’t understand how to follow instructions. “I wanted this iced.” “You didn’t say iced.” “You didn’t ask.” “I’m sorry, Ma’am. Would you like your HOT coffee iced?” I gave her a forced, sweet smile. “Yes, I would.” She answered haughtily, like she’d just won a contest for best and most. I turned and dumped the coffee and made her new drink order. I added extra ice to fill up the cup. I felt my supervisor’s eyes on me, scrutinizing my every move. “Here you go, Ma’am,” I spoke, forcing that same sugary sweet smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t choke on it. You have a nice day now.” She turned and opened her mouth to protest, but the next customer in line had already waved me down and was calling out their tea order. My supervisor cast me another glance from the doorway. I guess she didn’t approve of my choice of words to the customer. “Elyse. I need to see you in the back.” Eyes were on me, including a few from the customers I was currently serving, and I had a feeling this was not going to end well. I followed my boss to the back room, “Don’t choke on it?” She sputtered. “Don’t choke on it?” She repeated it again, incredulously. I definitely should have remembered my filter. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You’ve been doing really well, Elyse, but business hasn’t been great. A new coffee shop just opened down the block, and I don’t think this street needs another coffee house. I have to cut everyone’s hours, starting with yours. After the stunt you just pulled with that customer, I have no choice.” I opened my mouth to object, but she held held up a hand to hush me. “I don’t care if she had an attitude. The customers keep this place running, and they pay the bills. And your paycheck. Everyone’s hours are getting cut, not just yours.” “How bad are they getting cut?” Anxiety was flaring up within me. I thought about rent due at the end of next week, my roommate’s boyfriend, Al, eating all the food I buy, and school fees. “I’m cutting you down to twenty hours a week.” My mouth fell open. What. The. Actual. Fuck! “Seriously? Twenty hours? Do you really think I’m just some high school kid looking to make some extra money? I have rent-” “You’re lucky I’m only cutting your hours! Don’t make me change my mind.” She gestured for me to return to the store front. The sting of tears glistened in my eyes, and after that brief conversation, I needed a moment to compose myself. My landlord already raised the rent. I had school fees due soon. Utilities did not come with the rent, although I desperately wished they did. As I poured coffee and prepared chai tea lattes, I tried to mentally run through any options I had available. “Elyse, I’m going on my break.” I looked up after wiping down the countertop, just as my coworker removed her brown apron with the Chat N Brew logo on it. I nodded, and she cast me a look, because I was uncharacteristically quiet. There were still several customers lounging in chairs, enjoying their beverages and pastries, but this was the quietest time in the day. The bell chimed at the storefront, and I looked up to see Jackson stroll up to the counter. He was dressed casual today in a pair of dark wash denim that hugged him so appropriately, and a white cotton shirt that still managed to show off the contours of his biceps. He pulled his shades away from his eyes and tucked them in the collar of his shirt. I wiped the side of my mouth with the back of my hand, just in case I was drooling. “Well look who’s descended down to mingle with the common folk.” I forced a grin. Despite my sour mood, I was thrilled to see him, but there was no spunk in my tone today. “Did you come for the ninetynine cent Thursdays?” Jackson only grinned. “I was in the neighborhood, and I heard there was a really hot Barista working this joint.” He winked, but then paused and keenly examined me for a moment. “You seem different. Is everything alright?” I shrugged. “Just having a bad day.” I grabbed a large paper cup and filled it with a dark roast, added a

bit of cream and two sugars, just the way he likes it. I looked up at him after slapping the lid on his coffee cup. “Hey I was just wondering. That lounge waitress job wouldn’t still be available, would it?” Jackson frowned, and took the coffee from me as I handed it to him. “Sorry, Elyse. I had no choice but to fill that position.” I nodded. “What’s wrong? Why do you ask?” “My hours are getting cut down to twenty a week. Who can afford those hours?” I rolled my eyes as I continued mindlessly wiping down the countertop to make myself appear busy just in case my supervisor decided to pop her head around the corner. “My landlord raised the rent, too. I have a million things due.” “Your landlord increased the rent? He can’t touch the rent until your lease is up.” “I’m on a month-to-month.” His green eyes flared with disapproval. “It’s what I could afford!” I snapped, but shook my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I'm just stressing.” “We’ll figure it out. You have people who care about you and we can help.” “I hate asking for help. I feel like such an imposition-” “Look at me.” His voice suddenly became domineering, and it was enough to snap the attention of every customer in the shop, along with the girl stocking coffee mugs on the shelves in the storefront. “It doesn’t matter how those fucks treated you while you were growing up. You’re never a burden. Jillian doesn’t think that. My cousin doesn’t think that. My sister doesn’t think that. I don’t think that about you. I don’t want a fucking doormat. I want my feisty girl back. Hold your head up and fight.” Maybe his words seemed harsh, but they were exactly what I needed to hear and I was quiet for a long time. “You’re right. My best friend’s husband owns a hotel chain. Mason would never let me sleep on the street if I couldn’t pay my rent.” “Damn right,” Jackson sipped his coffee and then made a sour face. “I think I know why your hours are getting cut by the way. This is terrible.” He set the cup on the countertop. I laughed. “Hey, watch it. I made that!” “Don’t worry. I’m not holding you accountable for the cheap coffee.” He smirked. I laughed again and dumped the unwanted coffee. “There’s that smile I love.” He grinned. “I have to head to a business meeting. What time are you off tonight?” “I get off at four.” “Pack your things. You’ll stay at my place tonight.” “In New Rochelle? But I have class at ten in the morning tomorrow.” “New Rochelle is for the weekends.” He leaned in and whispered across the countertop. “Peach. I’m taking you to my place on the west end.” “Oooh.” I pulled away and beamed, but he caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I mean it. Pack your things. I’ll send a car to pick you up at seven.” He straightened, leaving me on a cloud of lust and anticipation. He’d only been in the store for ten minutes, but I was already feeling ten times better about everything. Jackson Rochester has a way of putting everything into perspective, and he makes me feel like a brand new person every time I see him.

“COME ON.” JACKSON took my hand, helping me out of the town car in front of a mid-rise stone building. The sun had already set, but there was enough vibrant light to take in the ornate detailing along the sides of the stone walls. A doorman held the thick glass double doors open and greeted us as Jackson led me through the front lobby. The entire lobby was so white, so pristine and so… rich. A large fountain in dark green marble was centered, and there was even a small waterfall that cascaded down a pebbled wall. The sight of it was breath-taking. As we passed by, I noticed large Koi that swam around in the clear water. “Oh my God, there’s Koi in the fountain!” I exclaimed a little more loudly than I intended. A few residents gave me a curious glance in passing. He only laughed, thoroughly amused by my outburst and tightened his fingers around my hand as he led me toward the elevator, which took us all the way to the top. I couldn’t stop smiling as I gripped his hand, feeling completely overstimulated and excited to see his other residence. His apartment is not what I had in mind when I tried to imagine it. It’s masculine and modern, yet there’s a cozy feel to it as well. The rooms are smaller than they are in the penthouse Jillian and Mason own. Cream colored marble greeted my feet in the foyer, and there were rich brown rugs spread throughout to accent the cherry wood table that was situated beneath a Thomas Kinkaid painting. I tried to absorb every detail as he took me on a small tour through the foyer, which was small yet exquisite. He led me down the hall, past the large archway that let me peek into the kitchen. It was sparkling, white, and obviously untouched. That’s all I managed to see as he kept his firm grip on my hand and led me further down the hall. “How many women have you brought here?” I asked as I tried to keep up with his long, powerful strides. He was obviously excited about something; the way he stared at me during dinner told me he knew something I didn’t. “You’re the first,” he answered without hesitation. He turned and looked at me, and the smile on his face nearly caused me to melt into a puddle in the middle of the hall. I was also grasping the concept that I was the first and only woman to be brought to his residence on the West End. “Well, fancy that. I’m the first,” I gave him a cheeky smile. “I work long hours during the week. I’ve never made time for anyone Monday through Friday. If I give myself a free weekend, I spend it on vacation or in New Rochelle.” “But you’re making an exception for little ‘ol me?” I was floating on a cloud of bliss, and opened my mouth to say something snarky, but he spoke instead. We were stopped in the archway of a larger room. His eyes glimmered playfully as he looked down at me. “I have a surprise for you.” “Ooh. A surprise? Is it in the bedroom?” I asked with a tease. He laughed. “I like your thinking, but no.” “Is it covered in chocolate?” “I don’t think you’d want this covered in any type of dessert,” he snickered. “So the surprise doesn’t have to do with sex or chocolate? Jackson Rochester, I’m completely shocked.” I giggled with a tease, but he muffled my soft laughter with a sweet, sensual kiss. I let out a breathy moan as the masculine, spicy scent of his cologne surrounded me. I gripped the lapels of his business jacket, and then caressed the side of his stubbled face with one hand as the heat burned through me from the kiss. It was so unexpected and so passionate.

With an exhale, he managed to pull away. I could tell it took all the self control he could muster. He looked down at me and the look in his eyes made me bite my lip. It was tender, yet domineering. “Come with me,” he instructed and led me into the room we were standing beside. This seemed to be the main sitting room, or maybe it’s a library. The wall was a deep brown wood, and made entirely of built-in book shelves. There were so many books! A modern, spiral staircase in gold detailing complemented the large bay window that overlooked Riverside Park, and the staircase led to a second floor with a small balcony that jutted over the library-sitting room. The furniture included a cream colored leather sofa and two matching arm chairs. The design was warm and inviting, but I think I was most excited about all the books on the shelves. I felt his eyes on me as I marveled at the details of the room. His hand never let go of mine as he continued with a quickness in his step. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” His voice was deep and rich as he asked the question. Every time he asks this, I feel wet and tingles erupt throughout my body. “Yes,” I answered weakly. He gave me a pleased smile. “Good. Then close your eyes.” I obeyed, desperately tempted to sneak a peek as he led me into the center of the room. “Don’t you peek. I’ll know if you look,” he warned with a playful hint in his pitch. “Yes, Sir.” I beamed with closed eyes. My lashes fluttered as I struggled to keep his instruction. I took about ten more steps and then suddenly I was halted. “Open your eyes,” he ordered in a low voice. Not so long ago, I would have protested. I would have stated that I didn’t like leeching off anyone, in an attempt to hide my shyness at receiving surprises or presents. Now, I was practically bouncing in my heels, eager for whatever Jackson had in mind. My eyes popped open, and when I saw what was before me, I sucked in a sharp breath and a hand flew to my mouth. Organized on his bookshelf were two perfect rows of books- books I’ve been wanting to read. I gave a breathy sigh, which clearly amused him, because he laughed. My fingers brushed over the glossy titles as I inspected each one. There had to be at least thirty books. I thought I was going to faint when I saw his never-ending display of books, but knowing there was a little piece of his library reserved for me just made me melt like butter. My eyes darted up to him, still wide with wonder. He seemed quite pleased with himself. “My little bookworm.” He spoke with such affection, and gave a wry, half-smirk as he studied my reaction to his surprise. “How did you know? Why?” I bit my lower lip as tears glazed my eyes, but I swallowed them back. “That’s easy. Jillian told me you had a wish list and I ordered the titles.” He gave a confident grin. “I’ve never known anyone with a reading list as long as yours.” I let out a short laugh, still processing the reality of this sweet, thoughtful gift. His hand was on my back as he spoke. “I think you’ll be spending a considerable amount of time here and I thought you could use some new reading material.” He flashed another charming smile. I turned to face him, overcome with so many emotions and my brain was overflowing with questions. He’s never had another woman here before, but he’s brought me. He’s given me my own shelf in his library with two rows of brand new books. What could that possibly mean? Does he want our arrangement to become a romantic relationship? It often feels that way lately. Does he want me to move in, or does he just want our dominant/submissive relationship to become indefinite? My heart was rampant, overcome by his thoughtfulness. “Do you like it?” His arms wrapped tightly around me as he asked the question. “Like it?” I turned, while still in his arms, and I gazed upon his face. “I love it. Thank you.” Words couldn’t express how much the gift truly meant to me.

He retrieved a small remote control, and a soft jazz melody surrounded us. “I’m just so…” my voice cracked. He kept me ensnared, and my head was pressed against his wide, solid chest. I breathed in deeply, savoring the comforting scent that was all Jackson. His fingers raked through my hair as I remained nestled against his firm body. I closed my eyes, feeling that nothing in the world could ruin this moment. A thought suddenly invaded the moment and I tensed in his arms. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t give a request for an answer; he demanded it. I licked my lips, which suddenly felt dry. I desperately wanted to tell him everything, to bare my soul. “Elyse.” His tone was growing impatient, and I looked up at him. “I have something to tell you,” I managed the courage to say. I can do this. I can tell him about the car, about the accidentHis brows knit together as he gazed down at me. The image of his reaction to the truth consumed me and invaded my mind. I weakened at the last second. “What is it?” “It’s not fair,” I blurted with a half smile. “You know exactly what to do for me, but I’m still trying to figure you out.” His fingers caressed my hair and he smiled. “Just having you here is enough for me.” “Jackson.” “Yes?” “That’s really cheesy.” He only laughed and pulled me close. His lips planted a kiss on my forehead and I felt myself relax again in his embrace. I wouldn’t allow this moment to be ruined. His fingers brushed over my lips. The energy around him suddenly crackled as he looked down on me with such a sultry gaze. “Cheesy. That’s not something I’ve ever been called before,” He spoke in his Dom voice and his perfect lip curled slightly as he tightened his grasp around me. His lips were on mine, enveloping and smoldering. The stubble scratched the skin on my cheek as his tongue tasted my mouth, keeping my back firmly plastered against the bookshelf. “There’s a first time for everything,” I murmured between kisses. In response to this, he grabbed my wrists sharply and restrained them over my head in one swift grip. “You’re getting fresh,” He growled. “What if I took you right here, against your beloved books?” Holy shit. The tone of his voice had me completely soaked… “Would that be cheesy?” His hands raked down my body, and clenched the sides of my thighs firmly as he thrust into me aggressively. My face was hot, my skin was flushed all over. I was ready to combust. “Don’t move,” he directed as he took a few steps back. I watched him shrug off his navy business jacket and very slowly removed the white shirt that was beneath. I squirmed as I studied the contours of his biceps and the large black cross that was inked on his right arm. The definition in his chest and abs was flawless and my eyes roamed from his happy trail down to the sizable bulge that was constricted within his pants. There was a smirk on his face as he watched me admire the view, and his eyes burned holes through me as he finished undressing. I was practically writhing with need by the time he was finished. His hard, beautiful cock stood out straight, and to add to the fun, he grabbed himself and stroked while I watched. “Is this what you want?” He asked in a sultry tone. “God, yes.” My voice sounded pathetic and I squirmed visibly before him. The glint was in his green eyes as he approached, and knelt before me. Without a word, he gently pulled the black tennis shoes and ankle socks from my feet and set them to the side. My leggings and panties were the next to go. He remained kneeling, and positioned the back of my knee over his shoulder.

His lips trailed kisses from my ankle up my calf sensuously, and a breathy moan escaped. Then his mouth was on my heat, kissing me there, just as he did my lips. As his tongue flicked and circled, I writhed and bucked my hips against his face, desperate for more. The stubble scratched the skin between my thighs and he gripped my ass so fiercely, licking and sucking that had me gasping and crying out. I swiveled my hips, grinding against his face and that only encouraged him further. “Oh God. Oh, Jackson. More,” I begged with a deep moan, curling my fingers in his hair, pulling. He growled against my wetness and pushed me forcefully against the bookshelf. I could feel that the design of the shelf was causing an indent in my lower back, but I didn’t care. “You like that?” He asked, and I felt his warm breath on my thighs. “Yes. More, please give it..” my voice trailed, hungry for his mouth to return. “Such a naughty girl.” There was a low rumble in his voice, and I flinched with a gasp as he spanked my pussy with his bare hand. “You. Are. A. Bad. Girl.” Each smack emphasized his words. “You like this, don’t you?” I let out a yelp, and our eyes met as he grasped the flesh of my ass in such a possessive, controlling manner. The expression in his eyes was more than just carnal or possessive. I could see the devotion there, too. I tasted myself on him as he held me against the shelf. His mouth consumed mine, teeth pulling on my lower lip. He paused momentarily to pull the white cotton shirt over my head. His teeth nipped at my neck and shoulders before he returned to my lips. Our tongues danced, tasting one another. Then his hands hoisted me up with ease. He used the bookshelf to help balance my weight and then with a grunt, he impaled me to the hilt. He kept his blazing eyes fixated on me as he pumped in and out, balls deep. I felt every delicious inch of him, and if I could have rolled my head back in ecstasy, I would have. His lips were on my neck, on my mouth and on my shoulder as he drove into me with a harsh intensity. The pressure was glorious, and with each thrust, he hit that perfect spot. My fingers curled in his hair, and as the orgasm ripped through me, I gave one rough tug on his scalp as I cried his name. “This is mine. It’s all fucking mine. Everything.” He groaned as he hammered into me. The walls trembled with the force of his thrusting. His grunt was thick in my ear as he gave one final, sharp thrust, and came deep inside. “Fuuuck.” I felt his chest heave rampantly as we remained connected. My legs were wrapped around him, and my back was still pressed against the rows of my new books. He gave me one long, deep, sensuous kiss which lasted for several minutes before he finally set my feet on the floor. “If you think we’re done, you’re very wrong,” his lips quirked upwards into a half smirk as he smoothed my hair from my flushed face. That statement was very true. Before the evening was over, he’d bent me over the arm of the sofa and took me on the seat of the bay window. At the end of the night, he carried my limp, exhausted body into his bedroom and tucked me into the large four post bed.

I WOKE TO SUNLIGHT on my face and pigeons cooing on the balcony just outside the windows. I looked over and found Jackson asleep beside me. I watched him, feeling my heart soar. I quietly gazed at him, watching him sleep. There was something mesmerizing about him while he slept, maybe it’s because he seemed so vulnerable. I wanted to touch him, to trace my fingers over the black cross that was inked on

his exposed bicep. I chewed on my lower lip in thought, torn between the temptation to touch him or make him breakfast. I wanted to do something just for him, to show him how much he means to me. I know the slightest caress will wake him and then I won’t leave this bed for hours. Enticing as that thought was, we had the rest of the day for that. I slid out of the bed and made my way to the bathroom before I slipped into his rumpled shirt from last night. I loved the light scent of his spicy cologne on my skin, and the way the shirt floated past my hips. I rolled up the sleeves, but the scent of him on my body made me want to climb on top of him. I shook the thought from my mind and slipped out of the room. I moved quietly down the hall, feeling relieved that I didn’t have to worry about waking anyone else or walking into any household staff in this apartment. I smelled coffee halfway down the hall, on the way to the kitchen and I was profoundly confused. I wondered if Jackson had one of those machines that can be timed to automatically start brewing in the mornings. When I arrived in the state-of-the-art kitchen, the coffee was brewing. A black machine, nothing overly special, rested on the countertop, percolating. Weird. I turned to see if there was any house staff on duty, but he made it very clear the night before that we would have the whole apartment to ourselves the next day. “Hello…?” I called out. There was no answer, and it was completely silent. I shrugged and opened the refrigerator. “Good morning, Sunshine.” I jumped and looked up, only to find a man sitting on the kitchen counter like he owned the place. He was really handsome in a rugged way and he had intense blue eyes and light brown hair that needed a haircut. He was strangely familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him before. He held a brown porcelain cup of coffee in his hand and managed to jump off the countertop without making a mess. I immediately hugged myself to ensure I was covered up and was really relieved that I had buttoned up the shirt, even if it was only partially. “Hey. Good morning. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was here.” A sly grin crept over his face. “No apologies needed. I’m enjoying the view.” “Well the view is not for you.” I gave him a smile that held a warning in it, but I was still embarrassed by my lack of clothes. “So you are the muse, yeah?” He grinned, pouring a little more coffee from the pot into the mug. “Yeah. I guess. I wouldn’t call myself a muse, though. I’m Elyse…” I looked at the guy with a funny expression as I clamped one hand over my waist to keep the shirt in place, and extended the other to him. “Ian,” he grinned. “I’m friends with Jax.” “Nice to finally meet a friend of Jackson’s.” I smiled. “He doesn’t have many. Good friends are a rare thing in this world.” His eyes flared intensely. Playfully. “I know all about that. So, Jackson is still sleeping-” “I know. Just getting my caffeine rush. Want some?” He asked. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” He handed me the brown mug he’d been holding, and reached into the cabinet above the coffee pot to grab a matching red one for himself. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he lived here, too. “It’s ready to go. Milk and two sugars, right?” “Yeah. Thank you,” I repeated, and sipped lightly. A burning taste greeted my tongue and I rushed to the sink to spit it out. “What the hell?” I slapped the mug on the countertop, sloshing the contents over the lip. “What the f-is this for real? You drink this shit?”

“Irish coffee.” I glanced up at Ian and he grinned knowingly. This guy is crazy. “It’s disgusting. Do you like a little coffee to go with your whiskey?” I asked this with a smirk. “Something like that, yeah. Hey, it’s not for everyone. I get it.” “I’m going to get Jackson.” I said hurriedly, and left the kitchen. I heard Ian laugh as he remained in his spot in the kitchen, probably drinking the contents of the mug I left on the countertop. When I entered the bedroom, Jackson was already pulling his pajama bottoms on. “Do I smell coffee?” He asked with a grin. “Yes,” I answered. “And there’s this crazy guy in your kitchen-” Jackson laughed, completely unphased. “I was wondering when the shithead would show up again.” Jackson seemed to be speaking to himself more than to me, but he grinned when I told him the news. Yeah. Okay… I found a pair of yoga pants and slipped those on. I wasn’t going back out there half dressed again. “I think you met him once a long time ago. Come with me,” He placed his hand on my lower back and guided me back into the hall. “Hey asshole. You forgot to call first.” Jackson smirked as we neared the kitchen. Ian was perched on the countertop again, and hopped off when we approached. “Listen, I had a new job. It kept me busy. You know how work can get.” Ian held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “You met Elyse?” Jackson asked. “Yep. You did good with this one, Jax.” Ian grinned down at me as he lowered his hands to his sides, and then turned back to Jackson. “Elyse, this is my old buddy, Ian. We’ve known each other since he worked as a consultant for my Uncle James.” “Nice to meet you.” I smiled. I was a little miffed that we didn’t have the entire apartment to ourselves for a morning of hardcore sex before I had to go to class. I ached between my thighs, but I wasn't sore enough- yet. “How has the new job been?” Jackson asked. “Where are you working now?” “Oh, here and there. I’ve been all over the place. They need eyes everywhere. I’m in town and figured I’d drop by.” “It’s about damn time.” Jackson smiled and moved to pour himself a cup of coffee. The two of them joked and called each other crass names for the next several minutes. I was left profoundly confused, but whatever. It was good to see Jackson so unguarded. I smiled as I watched them candidly. It was refreshing to see a whole different side to him, but after several minutes, I slipped away. I figured the guys could have some time to catch up. I showered and dressed in fresh clothes and then lounged on the sofa in Jackson’s bedroom. I cracked open my textbook so I could finish some reading when my phone rang. My phone always seems to ring whenever I settle down to read. This time it was my dad. “Hey,” I answered. Sometimes I still feel awkward calling him dad. “Hi Elyse,” he answered. He sounded tired and stressed. “I hope I’m not bothering you.” “No, you’re not bugging me at all.” I sat up. “Is everything okay?” “Well... “ he began hesitantly, and I was growing worried. “I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t really urgent, but-” “Dad, that’s the thing, I want you to call me for anything. Anytime.” Those words just slipped out, but it was something I’ve been struggling with for a long time. I felt hurt that he was calling me only as a last resort. I never hear from my dad unless there’s a birthday or a family get-together. Things between us have

always been awkward, and when he insisted that he help pay for my college tuition a couple of years ago, I refused his help at first. He has his own family to take care of and I felt intrusive from the moment I reached out to him once I learned his name. I thought about all the times my friends wanted to help me. Is this how they felt when I turned their help down? “Sarah has the flu, and since Celia is allergic to the flu vaccine, we were wondering if you can take the girls for the weekend while she recovers. I can’t risk them getting sick.” My dad explained. I wasn’t aware people got the flu this late in the year. “Of course. Do you need anything else? Does Sarah need anything?” I asked. “No... “ my dad answered hesitantly. “We just need someone we trust to take the girls and they love you, so…” I bit down on my lower lip, holding back what I wanted to say. Cee and Val are my only link to any actual relationship with my dad. I know this is true. I’ve often felt like nothing more than a babysitter or a good family friend. It’s okay. It’s not his fault. “Yeah sure I’ll take the girls. Anything you need, dad- Carlos.” I answered. There was a stiff pause of silence, like he wanted to say something else. “I’ll pay you for the weekend. Twenty an hour?” Anger suddenly simmered within me. Paid to watch my own sisters? What do I say to that? Am I supposed to be hurt over something like that, or no? There’s no manual for this type of estranged family shit. “I don’t want money,” I answered uncomfortably. “I just want to help my family.” “Thank you, Lissie.” I couldn’t even force a smile. “Are you still staying at Jillian's dogsitting? Would she mind if the girls stay there with you?” “They just returned but I'm sure Jill won't mind. She loves spending time with the girls. But I'll call her to make sure it's okay.” “Thanks, hon. I’m sorry to be so intrusive. It’s just that I don’t like the feeling I get from that Al roommate of yours.” Michelle’s boyfriend. I couldn’t argue with my dad there. “I really don’t like you living there either, but you are an adult now so I have no say in the matter. I can only worry…” My heart suddenly fluttered. “You worry about me?” “All the time, honey. I’d rather you stay here than at that apartment.” “I’ll think about it, d- Carlos.” “Call me dad, please. The girls are at the neighbor’s house but Sue has to work at three so can you pick them up when you get out of class?” “Yeah, definitely. And don’t worry. I’ll take good care of them.” “I know you will.” I wanted to tell him that I loved him, but we’ve never exchanged those words. I know he cares about me, and the last bit of that phone call warmed my heart. He was ridiculous for thinking he was bothering me for asking for help though- and that’s when I stopped and reflected. I probably sound just as foolish every time I go out of my way to avoid asking for help from the people in my life.



Jax: How are you holding up? Me: I’ve had them for 24 hours and I’m going to lose my mind ;) Me: I’m running out of things to do. I’m going to my place to get more clothes. Jax: No clothes needed. I like you naked. I laughed as I read his message, and quickly responded. Me: Little eyes are watching! And you’re not here :( Jax: Take them to a movie. Me: No moolah. I WAS GOING BACK and forth with Jackson through text messages, but my sister’s question pulled my attention away from the brief text chat I was having. We’d been staying at Mason’s and Jillian’s place for almost a day, but were headed back to my apartment only so I could grab some more clothes. “Please, please, please can we ride the carousel?” Celia tugged on my hand repeatedly as we walked down the sidewalk. I was running out of inexpensive options to keep them preoccupied. It was a gorgeous May day and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. We already fed the ducks, rode the carousel and got ice cream. They also chose today to bicker over every damn thing. Valentina didn’t help because she critiqued every little thing Celia did and it was starting to drive me nuts. “We already rode the carousel, Cee!” Val corrected and Celia opened her mouth to start yet another argument. “I didn’t ask you, dummy!” “It doesn’t matter if you asked me, buttface. I-” “Whoa!” I stopped them on the sidewalk. “Cut the fighting. If I hear the words ‘dummy’ or ‘butfface’ one more time, you’ll have a reserved spot on my couch. Got it?” They looked up at me and nodded. At that moment, my phone chimed with an incoming text message. I grinned stupidly when I saw who it was from. Jax: You’re sexy as fuck when you get out that tone. ;) Me: I’m full of surprises. Where are you? Jax: Look to your right. I’m kidnapping you. I was suddenly brimming with excitement as I looked up. The city sidewalks were packed with activity on that Saturday afternoon, and it took me a few minutes to spot Jackson. I couldn’t find him at

first. He stood down the street, wearing a fitted navy tee that showed off the muscles in his biceps and forearms. He sported a Yankees baseball cap and black raybans that kept him unrecognizable at first, but I spotted his car before I noticed him. He leaned against it with a lazy half smirk on his face, just down the street from my apartment. My body was humming from the mere sight of him, and I speed walked to meet him down the street. By the time I approached his car, he was pulling something out of the backseat of his flashy vehicle and rested it against the side of his car. “My painting!” Celia exclaimed, then she realized she was in the presence of a stranger and became shy. She looked up at Jackson with bashful brown eyes. Jackson grinned beneath his yankees cap as he held the framed painting. “I had these beauties framed and I was going to have them delivered, but I figured I could bring them over myself. They’ll look amazing on the wall, don’t you think?” He cast me a smile. His muscles flexed and I saw the trace of his tattoo beneath his fitted shirt as he pulled out the second framed painting. Valentina smiled proudly as he held her framed artwork. We followed as he carried both paintings up the wooden steps to my apartment. I’ve recently spent so much time at Jackson’s apartment on the West End. This was my first time back at my own apartment in several days. When I unlocked the door, I was alarmed and embarrassed by the state of the place. My stomach flopped and an uncomfortable sensation raced through me. I was humiliated. I never brought my sisters over here, and this was the first time Jackson has seen my apartment… and I instantly regretted letting them see my “home.” Old takeout cartons lined my wooden coffee table. The television was left on, and so was every light in every room, as though electricity is free. The sink was filled with dishes and there was trash… everywhere. I knew the mess was left for me to clean up. The entire place smelled of old sweaty socks and unwashed laundry. I wanted to die, and cry. Nobody said anything at first, but Valentina scrunched her nose. “Lissie, you are very messy.” Celia finally said. “This is messier than our room at home.” Michelle and her boyfriend weren’t there, and I was partially glad, because I would have caused a scene in front of my sisters if they were home. “Sorry, my roommate is disgusting,” I stated, trying to push away my embarrassment. I glanced at Jackson, who appeared as cold as stone as he surveyed the squalor that I call my apartment. “Daddy will be very upset when he sees your house, Lissie.” Valentina said quietly. I looked over at Jackson again, and our eyes met. I could tell by the flicker of emotion on his face, that he knew I was about to cry. “Don’t worry, little ladies. Lissie is moving.” I am? “You are?” They looked up at me. “Yes, she is. Isn’t that right, Lisse?” Jackson grinned, but the dark warning behind his green eyes sent enough of a message to me. I better not defy him. “Yes,” I feigned a smile. At this point, I couldn’t bring myself to pretend anymore. I couldn’t continue to allow myself to act like I was tougher than I really was, like I didn’t need help from anyone. The truth was that I needed help. I was ready to break down, and I needed to get as far away from my roommates, and from this shabby building, from my pervy landlord and from the entire facade that was my life. I’d had enough. I couldn’t do it anymore. The mess in this apartment was only the icing on the cake. “In fact, Lissie is going to pack some things, right now. Aren’t you, Lissie?” Jackson continued his grin. The girls looked from Jackson, back up to me.

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. “Where are you moving, Lissie?” Valentina asked with a funny look on her face. Good question, kid. “Don’t worry about that right now.” Jackson answered, before he turned to me. “Do you need help?” I looked around. “No, I’ll just get some things from my bedroom, the cleanest room in this place.” I felt dizzy, overwhelmed. I pulled out a large tote bag and filled it with items that I would need most, including my laptop, textbooks, hair straightener and clothes. I filled a small duffel bag with as much as I could shove. I had no idea where I was going, but I couldn’t stay here anymore. I had no room to argue with Jackson, and I figured he’d let me crash at his place in the city for a little while until I figured things out. I finally emerged from my room, struggling to haul two bags over my shoulders. Jackson was waiting in the hall, and immediately took the bags from my arms with ease. I was still embarrassed, and my blood pressure had spiked just from having them wait in the living room for me. I locked my bedroom door and Jackson was already heading for the exit. I knew he couldn’t stand to be in this place, but he didn’t say a word. He was uncharacteristically stoic. He placed the bags and framed paintings in the trunk and then closed the hood. “Where are we going?” Valentina finally asked. “It’s a surprise. Get in.” Jackson winked and gave a half-smirk that dampened my panties. The girls beamed with excitement and my curiosity was piqued. Once we were all buckled into his car, I gave him an inquisitive look. His eyes flashed with a playful note as he fastened his own seat belt and replaced his Raybans on his face. He drove steadily through the streets of Manhattan, like an expert New York City driver, and the busy city streets eventually became quieter as we left the city. The scenery became greener as we drove in the direction of New Rochelle. Once we came to the Tappan Zee Bridge, Jackson tensed. “You don’t like the water?” I asked with a tease in my voice. I cast a glance over my shoulder to the girls, who were staring in awe over the sparkling water of the Hudson River. I turned my gaze back to Jackson, who still seemed tense and rigid. “No, I like to sail in the summer and I’ve taken my yacht out a few times,” he answered with an edge to his voice. I remembered the article I found in the Society pages of the New York Times which pictured him on his yacht with a slew of beautiful women in tight, skimpy bikinis. That photo was published around the same time that I received the rejection letter from his firm to help East Village. That was years ago, but I was alarmed and surprised by the jealousy that coursed through me at the thought of him on his boat with other women. Women who aren’t me. “The water doesn’t bother me. I just have a thing about bridges. I’ll avoid the George Washington at all costs,” Jackson continued, tearing me away from the thoughts of jealousy that were swimming around in my mind. “Any reason why?” I asked. “Who knows. People don’t need a reason to explain a fear of heights, right?” He forced a slight grin, but kept his eyes on the road as we drove over the long bridge. The scenery was beautiful and I admired the way the early afternoon sun sparkled over the water. I only smiled, and for once, my sisters were quiet as they stared out the window. When we drove past a sign that welcomed us to Nyack, I had an idea of where Jackson was taking us. Signs for the Nyack Music and Arts Festival became more pronounced. My stomach flopped, profoundly confused, but thrilled at the same time. I was at a complete loss, especially when he pulled into a grassy lot and stopped the car. “Are we going to the carnival?” Valentina asked with sheer excitement in her voice. Her dark curls

bounced as she turned to Celia. Their eyes sparkled with so much happiness as they stepped out of the car. “You girls ever been to the Music and Arts Festival?” Jackson asked. “No, but we went to Florida once,” Valentina answered. Jackson only laughed and looked down at Celia, who was still very bashful around him. I could tell she was starting to warm up to him though, because she wasn’t clutching to the pockets of my jeans. Valentina was jumping up and down, skipping with so much life in her step as we walked around the festival. The rich smell of food was in the air, and the distant sounds of several local bands provided a loud backdrop. It took me a long time to process the idea that Jackson Rochester, Nightclub owner and billionaire extraordinaire, would take me and my sisters to a music festival. “Can we go on all the rides?” Celia finally asked with a shy note in her voice. “We can do whatever your little heart desires,” Jackson answered. “Don’t tell them that. They’ll drain your wallet-” He looked at me with such a humored expression and then picked me up and threw me over his shoulder playfully. My sisters squealed with laughter at the sight as I protested. It was so embarrassing to be seen like this in front of Celia and Valentina. “Jackson, put me down!” I objected at first. I swung my arms and somehow managed to knock his yankees cap off his head, and I laughed. My sisters were thoroughly amused, along with every spectator within ten feet. Celia ran to pick up his hat and handed it to him. “Thank you, little lady.” He grinned as he stopped to place it back on his head and continued carrying me down the paved street with my sisters in tow. “Jackson. Really! Put me down. I’m getting dizzy!” I tried to sound adamant, but there was still a hint of laughter in my voice. He eventually set me down a few minutes later when Valentina asked for a hot dog. Of course, he stopped immediately and bought her the hot dog, casting me several warning glares the entire time as he pulled out his wallet. Don’t even think about it. I saw the flash in his eyes as he handed over the money. So it began. I was beginning to think his fancy chocolate leather wallet had a miraculous ability to reproduce cash. Celia and Valentina were in their glory. They only needed to express slight interest in something, and in the snap of a finger, it was in their hands. They went on the swinging pirate ship five times and he paid for every ride they wanted. Cotton candy, popcorn, ice cream, it was all within their reach. There was a jewelry making station that was pretty awesome, but seriously expensive. That wasn’t a problem for Jax. He was as patient as a saint as the girls very slowly picked out glass beads for bracelets. When he went on the bumper cars with Celia, my heart melted. There’s a boyish charm, a side of him that came out while I watched him teach her how to steer the wheel. Seeing her squeal and giggle next to him in the car tugged at the strings of my heart. As we walked through the craft section of the festival he held Celia’s hand and my heart skipped a beat. I watched how he was with both girls, especially Celia. She’s always been so timid and quiet, so slow to warm to strangers. He was nothing but tender and sweet with them, and when Celia started getting tired from walking around, he hoisted her over his shoulders. By the time five o’clock rolled around, it was like she’d known him her entire life. Celia sat on his shoulders, and Val was holding my hand as I walked beside Jackson. Without a word, he took my free hand and grasped it firmly, squeezing gently. I expected him to let go, but he didn’t. He kept his fingers locked around mine as we walked through the fair grounds. My heart swelled within me, and I leaned into his arm for a moment as we walked. I didn’t see his face in that second, but I sensed his smile. I tried to remain ignorant of how much Jackson spent on me and my sisters. I honestly didn’t want to

know, but I saw a whole different side to him, and I realized something extremely terrifying. I had an epiphany. I’m in love with Jackson. And I couldn’t control how badly and how rapidly I was falling.



THE DAY WASN’T PLANNED; it was an impulsive move on my part. She wanted to object in the beginning, but eventually she went along with everything. It was nearly nine in the evening when I pulled the car to a stop on the round, paved drive in front of my New Rochelle property. Sometimes, this house feels like a dead weight. When my parents first passed away, the house was left solely to me. Close family friends and my parents’ lawyers tried to convince me to sell the estate, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The place has been ghostly for years, until tonight. With care and ease, I lifted Elyse’s youngest sister Celia from the backseat of the car. She was sound asleep, and stirred with slight protest as I carried her in my arms. I thought it was going to take more effort on my part to win this little lady over, but I guess cotton candy and bracelets are the leading way to a little girl’s heart. I didn’t say this much to Elyse, but I hadn’t enjoyed a day this much in years- not since before my family was taken in the crash. I led the way, carrying Celia up the steps as Elyse and her other sister, Valentina, followed behind. It was nice having company in the house, it made the halls feel less empty. I put the girls in a guest bed that was farthest away from my storage room. If they were anything like their older sister, I couldn’t risk the liability of them finding my darkest secret. Once they were out for the night, I took Elyse by her hands and led her down the hall. My submissive. It’s always taken a lot for me to call any woman by that title. I’ve never been a Dom who rushes into ownership, but when I look at Elyse an unfamiliar feeling consumes me. It’s scary and exhilarating at the same time. I want to own her, claim her, possess her and mark her. Over and over. When it comes to this woman, I’m never satiated. I pulled her into my bedroom on the opposite side of the upstairs balcony and held her closely as I examined her. She looked like she was ready to drop. When I first met her, there was a guarded edge in her blue eyes, but now as I looked down at her I noticed a different expression written all over her face. There was a softness. The mask was long gone and for that split second, it felt like I was seeing Elyse for the first time. I caressed her face and she held my hand against the softness of her cheek. “You didn’t have to do any of that earlier.” She finally spoke with exhaustion in her voice. I leaned in to whisper. “I know.” “Why did you? And don’t say it was out of boredom.” I couldn’t resist. “I confess. I was bored out of my mind.” She laughed and her eyes illuminated as she looked up at me. Her smile and laugh is infectious, and this is exactly why she’s been my infatuation. My muse. The truth is that I didn’t know what had gotten into me earlier when I decided to take her and the girls

upstate to the Nyack fair. I only knew I wanted to do something special for her. I wanted her to know another side to me, and that seemed like the best idea at the time. I didn’t realize it would lead to one of the best days of my life, or to the realization that little Celia slapped me with a dreadful reminder of PJ, the sister I lost so long ago. We lay in the bed and when she turned to look at me, I suddenly froze up, but neither of us said anything. I kept my gaze on every soft contour of her face, and the unhidden depths behind her eyes. We remained quiet and she suddenly stretched a hand to me. Her fingertips brushed against mine. Now that her cement walls were crumbling, I might have to place boundaries and limits. Her eyes were deep, searching as her fingers curled around mine. A small part of me wanted to withdraw my hand from hers, but instead, I tightened my grasp around her hand, and lifted it to my lips before I placed it at my side. In response, she rolled on her side to face me. “Thank you for today,” she whispered sleepily. “It was the best day of my life.” Those words meant more than I wanted to believe.

THE ART SHOW WAS alive with music that reverberated off the walls. The fluorescent purple and white lighting complimented the work displayed on the walls of the penthouse suite that my father rented for the night in the city. It was my work that was displayed everywhere. I was surrounded by beautiful women and elite lawyers and business people who wanted to invest in my work. Everything seemed fucking perfect, except it wasn’t. Something was wrong. I looked across the rounded bannister and saw my twin sister Piper sipping champagne, chatting with some of our school friends. Suddenly she appeared beside me and handed me a flute of champagne, but I refused. “Where is mom and dad?” I asked with urgency in my voice. “They’re at home with PJ. Don’t be mad. They’ll be here.” “NO! Tell them not to come.” I raked a hand through my hair. “I need a phone.” I felt through my pockets and realized I didn’t have a cell phone. “Jax don’t be crazy. What are you talking about? They’re in the car now!” Piper yelled behind me as I desperately tried to find a phone. Nobody had a working cell phone and the phone in the penthouse was broken. “They can’t come. Piper, fucking call them and tell them to stay where they are!” “Why? This is YOUR show, Jax. You’re the one who made us come here tonight!” “NO. I changed my goddamn mind! PJ asked me to show her how to paint. I can’t. She’s too young.” “You’ve lost your mind. You’re crazy.” I finally spotted a phone and ripped it out of someone’s hand at the party and tried to dial my dad’s number, but my hands were shaking so badly I kept pushing the wrong buttons. This was a repeated gesture, and I knew it was too late. An officer in uniform approached me from behind and tapped my shoulder. I turned to face him, and his only words haunted me: “It’s too late. It’s because of you they’re dead.”



I WOKE IN A sweat. My heart was about to burst through my ribcage. The whole scenario was abstract and obscure, yet it hit so close to home. I’ve suffered from the same nightmare over and over for years. My chest felt constricted; my lungs unable to take a breath. It’s all my fucking fault. All of it. The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft light on Elyse’s face as she slept beside me. She was an angel asleep at my side, but the ferocity of my dreams served as a reminder of the monster I once was. I don’t know why I ever thought I could break down her walls, when I was the prick who doesn’t deserve this. Her- I don’t deserve her. I caressed her face softly as she slept, but shook the notion away. Without a word, I left the bed and retrieved the prescription bottle from the medicine cabinet in my bathroom and knocked back a pill. I left the bedroom and paced down the hall, and instinctively found myself in the old art studio. This was my haven. This was the room where I once placed my entire worth. I was a prodigy, and I knew it. There was a time in my life when I made sure everyone else in my life knew how good I was. It was enough to cost my family their lives. The torrent of thoughts consumed me as I walked around the studio with an intensity that scared even me. The thoughts were wild in my mind, and I felt out of control. My impulses consumed me, and without a second thought, I flipped my entire work bench over. Brushes and old jars of paint went flying across the room, crashing loudly when they hit the floor. I took the second easel, closest to the window and threw it against the wall. I was beast, fueling my anger through physical force, but none of it gave me any satisfaction. This is all I have to look forward to for the rest of my life.

I WOKE, FEELING groggy, but the faint crashing down the hall couldn’t be ignored. The shattering of objects was enough to make my eyes flutter open. I reached a hand across the bed to Jackson’s side and then rubbed the sleep from my eyes when I realized the bed was empty. The chaos was faint and distant down the hall, but still continued even as I slid out of the bed. The cool night air met my skin and made my nipples so stiff. I found a navy button down of Jackson’s draped over the cream upholstered chair on the other side of the room. I pulled it over my shoulders and buttoned it partially. It smelled just like him: a spicy cologne and sex, mixed with a scent that was all his own. It was the next best thing to having his arms wrapped around me. I left the bedroom and padded barefoot down the hall, toward the direction of the noise. As I got closer, it became very quiet and I found myself in the entrance to the abandoned art studio Jackson once found me in. The door was propped open, and the view in front of me broke my heart. The light from the outside hall was already on, and cast a dim, gentle light on his back as he stared pensively at an unfinished painting. His back remained to me, and my eyes scanned the mess: overturned tables, a broken easel, paints and brushes strewn across the wooden floorboards. He stood in the center of it all, like the chaos never existed. I recognized the unfinished work he studied: his younger sister, Penelope. I recalled the entries she wrote about him in her diary. A heavy weight rested within my chest, and my eyes glistened at the sight of him staring at her portrait. I shifted my weight as I watched him, and the floor beneath my feet creaked. He didn’t budge, keeping his back to me. “Go back to bed.” I barely recognized that icy tone. There was a brief pause of silence before I finally answered. “No.” He whipped his head toward me, eyes wild. “Elyse, I’m warning you. I’m not-” “You’re warning me? What are you going to do, Jax?” I asked. I approached him from behind, and tentatively placed my hands on his arms. Judging by the tone of his voice, I expected him to push my hands away, but he stiffened at my touch. “Don’t.” I spoke. “You tore my walls down. Don’t do this.” I moved my hands up and down his biceps and tried to turn him to face me, but he didn’t move his back. That’s not quite true; he didn’t tear all of my walls down. Still, is it really necessary to tell him that the intoxicated driver who struck his family was my mother? A lump swelled in my throat. There are no words to explain any of that to him. Besides, I didn’t cause the accident and she’s not in my life. I tried to justify my reasoning. “She reminds me of her. Your sister reminds me of her,” he finally spoke, breaking the thick, tense silence between us. I remained quiet, listening. “She was only thirteen, but had the biggest heart. I was a fucking prick to her. I had everything so easy

back then. But all of that changed in the blink of an eye, and I’m the reason they’re dead.” I caressed his arms, but he shook me off. “Don’t. I don’t deserve that.” He’d been so open and carefree earlier in the day. I didn’t understand why he was suddenly shutting down. “I was seventeen when Piper and I lost our parents, but it’s my fault.” His expression was stormy as he briefly looked at me. “PJ was the typical annoying kid sister, always bursting into my room and borrowing my paints. She was a brilliant artist and I was envious of her talent. I treated her like shit. She was killed in a car accident, along with my parents, on their way to my art show in the city. The SUV was flipped over on route ninety-five, thanks to some fucking driver…” his voice trailed and he murmured that last part angrily. The memories washed over me. Everything slammed through me at once: the gossip I overheard my caretakers speak regarding the car accident, my mother, his family, Penelope’s diary entries. It was all too much. He has no idea… I felt even worse as he confided in me that he blamed himself for the deaths of his parents and little sister. They were on their way to his art show in the city when my own mother caused the accident. “Jackson, I…” My voice trailed. I couldn’t bring myself to make such a confession at that moment. He’d be angry. He’d judge me, and I was terrified of losing him. He turned and looked down at me. There was a wild edge to his green eyes, and they were blazing. My open mouth suddenly closed. “Go back to bed,” he stepped away and brushed me off. I can’t leave him like this. He needs me. I couldn’t bring myself to dodge him in an effort to protect myself. “Come with me,” I took his hand and pulled him to me. He looked at me and his brow furrowed like I was being ridiculous. “What do you want, Elyse?” He asked. You. “I want to be here for you… as more than just a submissive.” I swallowed as I said this. It was a bold statement, but it was the truth. His brow twitched as he looked down at me. “As what then?” I looked up at him. “What do you want me to be?” His lip curled slightly and his eyes suddenly became dark, and he yanked me into the hall. I was suddenly sandwiched between the hard muscles of his torso, and the wooden paneling on the wall. “That’s considerate, Peach, because you’re going to be my fuck toy.” I remained pressed firmly against the wall as his eyes devoured me, and then his lips crashed down on mine. The kiss was searing and his fingers raked up my body in such a savage way. My entire body was buzzing, overwhelmed yet consumed at the same time. This man is unpredictable. I didn’t know whether he was going to force me to my knees to suck his cock, or turn me over and fuck me right there in the hall. Anything is possible with Jackson, at any given time. His fingers curled around the globes of my ass so fiercely, so possessively, I knew it might hurt to sit the next morning, but I didn’t give a damn. I leaned into him, wanting to give him all the access he needed. His hands moved down my hips and his lips moved from my mouth, down my collarbone. I was going to explode from the pleasure that flooded through me. “I fucking love it when you smell like me,” he growled and without a warning, he ripped the shirt open. Buttons went flying, I stood there, pressed between the wall and his body, half-exposed, breathless. He leaned forward, keeping me in place, as he kissed the area between my breasts up to my neck. I let

out a soft sigh, needing more. His hands found the slick heat between my thighs, which now quivered at his touch. “What do we have here?” He asked, rubbing me with such a ferocity that my knees nearly buckled a few times, if it wasn’t for his pressing weight holding me against the wall. I moaned, feeling the build-up forming into a sweet, tormenting sensation within my core. “Jackson, please…” My breathing was pathetic. “What’s my name?” His fist was knotted in my hair and he trailed the heat of his lips down to my shoulder, where he nipped and pulled at the skin. “Oh God…” “I like it. I give you permission to call me that for tonight.” I felt his smirk against my shoulder as he kissed up my neck. “Sir…” I finally stated, foggy and slow to process his witty remark. “Seriously, if you keep this up, I’m going to come…” “Not yet,” he responded, and in the heat of the moment, and in my desperate attempt to make him listen, I grabbed his hair and curled my fingers against his scalp. Whoops. Shit. I looked up to find that I’d unleashed something wild within him. His eyes, green and feral, looked down at me and the smirk on his face was profoundly wicked. “Oh, that’s how you want to play?” He dared in the most devilish tone, it was sultry and rich, with an edge of danger. His fingers curled around my hair, yanking my head back. “You dirty, naughty thing.” He grabbed me, grasping my arm firmly while keeping my hair locked in his grip. “You still have so much to learn.” His voice was like velvet caressing my ear. “So teach me,” I replied with a taunting voice but gasped when he pressed me more firmly against the wall. His body loomed over mine, pinning my wrists against the top of my head in one easy grasp. My body was on fire, and I felt my pulse hum in my veins as he kissed and nipped at the skin on my neck. His mouth left a trail of heat as he moved from my neck down to my collar bone, and kissed the area between my breasts. He was like a beast as he took my nipples in his mouth, sucking and savoring each one. “Oh my God,” I moaned, and tried to move my wrists so I could touch him, but I was plastered firmly against the wall. “You’re not moving until I say,” he growled against my breasts, and continued worshipping them. He took my breasts into his mouth. It was so animalistic, but fuck- I loved it. Within minutes, my pussy was soaked and I clenched those pulsing muscles in an attempt at satisfying the ache that quickly formed. The smirk was in his eyes, so wicked and daring, as though he wanted me to challenge him. His hand moved down my stomach until he found my wet slit. A shock of tingles traveled up my spine as his thumb circled my clit in swift, steady strokes. I closed my eyes and went to dip my head back, but the wall caught me. Instead, my knees buckled and it was Jackson’s weight that kept me upright. Soft and slow, firm and smooth. He continued massaging my pussy until I was soaked and could hear the light, slippery wet sounds of his fingers. He used only his thumb, and then suddenly added two fingers. Before I even realized what I was doing, gasps and moans escaped my mouth and my head fell to the side. The pressure, the delicious aching build-up within, was becoming too much for me to handle. “Please, please…” a pathetic gasp escaped my lips. What was I begging for? SMACK. A sting greeted my pussy lips and I cried out. I wanted more, even though my brain couldn’t process why I liked it. I blinked up at him just as he commanded my attention. “Keep your eyes on me, you dirty, disobedient girl.” He was fierce, keeping his hand locked strongly around my jawbone, keeping my focus directly on

him. With that dark glint ever-present in his eyes, he resumed thumbing my clit in those familiar steady and firm strokes. I bit my lower lip, feeling the overwhelming pressure build up within me. I was so close to the edgeSMACK. My whole body flinched and then shuddered, but the smirk on his face was far from satisfied. Without a single word, he pulled me from the wall by my hair and led me down the hall, straight to his storage room. I could barely walk, feeling weak from pleasure and a need to be fucked. Before I could think about the endless possibilities, he forcefully bent my body over the bondage table that was centered in the small room. It’s built like a table, but this was custom designed. It’s made of sturdy wood, polished in black and has circular attachment points strategically placed throughout. My body was pressed firmly over the soft black leather padding of the table, with his hand on the back of my neck, keeping me in place. With a gentle, stern grasp he grabbed one wrist and cuffed it to the side of the table, and then did the same with my other wrist. He stepped back and I felt the cool air hit my ass and back when the warmth radiating from his body left mine. I felt his movements, swift and confident, as he rounded the table and stepped across the room. He was within my sight and brushed his hand along the rack of canes and riding crops. My pulse spiked in my throat as I watched him. He selected a riding crop, one of the smallest on the rack and then turned to me. The intensity in his eyes was fierce as he prowled around my exposed, vulnerable body like a predator preparing to strike. My breathing hitched as he stopped directly in my line of vision. His gaze was sharp on me as he took the riding crop and smacked it roughly against the palm of his hand. “Do you know why you’re being punished, Peach?” My heart escalated at the crisp, rich authority in his voice and I felt exhilarated that he saved this tone just for me. “I pulled your hair,” I blinked up at him, batting my lashes. The darkness in his eyes only became more profound as his eyes grazed over my body, like he was appraising me, or pondering the best approach to this discipline. “Did you like pulling my hair?” I felt the tip of the smooth leather caress my skin in feather light strokes, kissing the area between my shoulder blades before it slid down to the base of my lower back. I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling. “Yes. I liked it,” I answered breathily. THWACK. The sting was light, but made its own statement on the cheek of my ass. I wriggled and gasped from the contact, feeling more vulnerable than ever. It was torture, feeling open like this, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him my safeword. The leather again caressed my shoulders, trailing to the nape of my neck and running down to the center between my thighs. THWACK. The back of one thigh stung, but it was a small sting. He was unpredictable, but I trusted that he’d never hurt me. Not physically, at least. The thought was quick and intrusive, but another sharp rap of the crop broke that idea from my mind. “You need to learn to listen to me when I give an order,” his tone was stern. “You’re still defiant.” Another sting landed on the back of my other thigh. I pursed my lips as he brushed the soft leather over my hyper-sensitive pussy. That’s when I realized how badly I ached for his touch there. I wriggled my hips from the contact, but his hand came down strongly on my lower back, holding me still. It’s like my writhing ass was driving him too wild. “What do you have to say for yourself?” He leaned over my bent body, sending a shudder of tingling

pleasure down my spine from his harsh whisper. “I’m sorry…” my apology came out whiny, like a plea. I felt his smirk against my ear. “No, you’re not.” He’s right. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry at all. I like this attention from him. I bit my tongue to hide my smile. “No, you’re not sorry at all. Not a single bit, you naughty girl. I should punish you with my cock.” He emphasized the words punish and cock as he growled roughly in my ear, still bent over me. The weight of his muscled body pressed my smaller form into the soft leather of the bondage table. “I should give you the pounding of your fucking life.” Oh God, please. Please. I smirked to myself and wriggled my ass against the large, solid bulge in his pants. He sucked in breath that sounded like a hiss as my ass moved against his erection. I might be his worst submissive ever. He wasn’t about to let that stop him. Without so much as a warning, the smooth wooden bulb of the crop’s handle penetrated me. He pushed it firmly into my slick channel and I cried out from the surprise contact. “That’s right, baby. You’ll listen and learn.” He began pumping the crop’s smooth, bulbed handle in and out at a frantic pace and I cried out, feeling sparks of pleasure flare from my core to my belly, and my toes curled against the wood of the floor. Tears were welling up in my eyes along with the agonizing pressure building up within my core. “Who’s your Dom, baby?” “You are.” “And are you going to obey me from now on?” “Yes, yes!” I was riding a cloud of ecstasy; I’d say anything to please him in that moment. “Good girl,” his warm breath soothed my ear as he spoke. He pulled the crop out and I felt such emptiness. My legs were trembling fiercely, and I ached from dangling over the edge of what would’ve been such an intense orgasm. I whimpered in protest. His hands massaged my shoulders and arms as he remained pressed over me. His fingers worked my muscles and he brushed a stray tear as it rolled down my cheek. “I love the way you respond to my pleasure,” he spoke as he kissed my shoulders lightly. As he kissed, I heard the soft rustle of his pants as they fell to the floor at my feet. His hand moved to the back of my neck, pressing me roughly against the leather padding. The head of his large cock pushed against the wet lips of my pussy and his hand remained clamped around my neck. “You’re so wet you naughty thing. You like being punished,” he groaned and without waiting for my response, he pushed into me deeply. The intrusion was intense, feeling him split me wide open, and he immediately began pumping at a profound pace, stroking me in just the right place. Feeling Jackson so deeply inside, feeling his hips rock back and forth, massaging me from the inside… it’s an immense pleasure that can’t be described with words. I’ve fantasized about this for years. The sharp tug of my hair only added to the pleasure and he never relented as he pounded me from behind. I didn’t pay attention to my own noises, but I reveled in the grunts and hisses of pleasure that escaped his lips as he fucked me hard and deep. He still kept one hand on the back of my neck and the other remained clamped tightly on my hip bone. I tried to maintain my focus on keeping my orgasm in check. I remembered his specific rule: I was not allowed to come without his permission, but fuck, it was so difficult. I almost lost it several times, because damn, the man has stamina. A while later, his hands left my neck and hip bone, skimming lightly against my sides, which was a far contrast from his hard pounding. “Come for me, baby. Give it all to me.” His words were velvety as he traced along the shape of my open lips. He pulled out, then slammed back in with one swift stroke and that was all it took.

The orgasm ripped through my body, sending shudders and aftershocks through my core as I cried out. Tears rolled down my face. I’ve come to learn this is my body’s typical response to any orgasm from Jackson. As I was falling over the edge, he followed behind, marking my ass just after pulling out. I felt him breathing deeply, grunting to catch his breath. He was silent and I knew he was treasuring the view of my glistening ass. After several minutes, he wiped me down and then unbuckled the cuffs that held me down against the table. After slowly straightening me against his body, he wiped my tears with his thumb and the palm of his hand. “You’re gorgeous with tears rolling down your face,” he said tenderly as he held me against his hard torso, arms wrapped securely around my frame. If any other man ever said that to me, I’d want to punch him. But coming from Jackson, I felt a warmth flood over me when he said those words, and I know he meant that he thought I was gorgeous when I let go- when I let him give me indescribable pleasure. He kissed my lips tenderly and softly before he pulled away and led me down the hall back to bed. He tucked me in and then slid into the empty space beside me, spooning me. I think he meant to soothe me and help me fall asleep faster, but he’s the one who fell asleep instead. I rolled over and watched him with the soft moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains. My mind was consumed with thoughts, wondering about things he wasn’t telling me, and why he was so determined to keep me out of that old art studio. I wished he would talk to me, but I couldn’t judge – I had my own past that I was keeping from him.



“THANK YOU, MR. Jackson.” Celia’s voice was soft, but lacked the typical shyness. She sat in the backseat of his car, cuddling a stuffed unicorn from the festival. I glanced over my shoulder and smiled as I watched the girls for a quick moment. Celia looked at Jackson with such adoration in her dark eyes. I’m pretty sure she has a little crush. It was mid-morning on Sunday and Jackson was taking us back to the city. Valentina was sound asleep beside Celia. Jackson wore his raybans as he fixated on the road. His knuckles turned white as we crossed over the Tappan Zee Bridge again. Neither of us slept much the night before. I was still feeling the sensual ache between my thighs, even as I sat on the soft leather interior of his luxury car. He was uncharacteristically quiet, contemplative. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but not in front of little ears. “You’re welcome, Cee. It was my pleasure.” Jackson grinned at her through the rearview mirror and she beamed. “Are you taking us back to my apartment?” I asked quietly. His perfect mouth curled into a slight frown and his jaw was set grimly, the same way it does when he expects me to challenge him. “No. I meant it when I said you’re moving out. I’m not going to allow my su- my…” He glanced at the rearview mirror to find my littlest sister staring at us quietly from the comfort of the backseat. “I’m not going to have my girlfriend living in such disgusting conditions.” His tone was harsh, low, but crisp. His knuckles tightened even more around the steering wheel, even though we were well past the bridge at this point. I think saying girlfriend was a strain on his lips, even if it was just for the sake of my sister’s ears. But it still hurt the way he said it… like it was difficult to pronounce. “I mean it, Lis.” He held that tone in his voice, the one that told me I better not protest if I know what’s good for me, and I definitely wasn’t about to start anything in front of the girls. “Where are we going then?” “You’ll see.” He seemed to relax a little when I didn’t give any objection. We entered the city early afternoon. Jackson pulled to a stop in front of Mason’s hotel and handed the keys over to valet like it was nothing to him. I glanced at the car, thinking that I’d have such anxiety if I left my belongings with a complete stranger. Images of keys against a glossy white exterior suddenly hit me, and I closed my eyes for a second, trying to ignore the graphic images that invaded my memory.

Scratched paint. Blaring alarms. Vandalism. I pursed my lips as Jackson took my hand in a firm, confident grasp and led me into the hotel. The girls skipped alongside us. “Are you alright?” He turned and asked inquisitively, but there was genuine concern in his eyes. I nodded quietly and blindly walked with him to the front reception desk, not paying any attention to why we were there. I was still dwelling on my guilt. “Mr. Rochester!” A young woman smiled too brightly. I don’t think she even saw me, or my sisters. To her, Jackson was the only person in the entire hotel. “My cousin has a room reserved. I think he mentioned it was room 312 with the balcony view.” Jackson stated casually, paying her very little attention. Her eyes rounded slightly, obviously curious, but she said nothing as she turned to the computer screen and tapped at the keyboard. “Yes, it’s room 312.” She confirmed. “Do you have bags that need to be brought up?” “Yes,” he answered. “I forgot to notify valet…” “It’s quite alright! We will handle everything and the bags will be brought up.” She said with a perky pitch to her voice, much too eager to serve him. I glanced around the hotel. It’s so classic and lavish, like something I’d never dream of ever affording. Even though I’ve spent countless hours visiting Jill on the top floor in the penthouse she shared with Mason, I’m still blown away every time I enter the front lobby. Distracted, I followed Jackson to the elevator and didn’t even pay attention until he slid the keycard into the slot just outside the door that read 312. He opened the door and my eyes flew open, along with my mouth. “Welcome home, for now… at least until you figure out other living arrangements.” Jackson smiled. “Wow!” Valentina exclaimed. “This is all for Lissie?” My sisters ran around the large room. It was a small suite with a little balcony off to the side by the kitchenette. I could see that the bedroom was just off to the side of the sitting room. It was like a lavish apartment, a little bigger than the one I shared with Michelle and her boyfriend, Al. I looked through the glass doors of the balcony and saw a gorgeous view of the city. The sky was a perfect blue. I was in a complete daze. “Yes, this is for Lissie, so she has a safe place to stay until she finds a permanent living arrangement,” I heard Jackson explain to my sisters. The hotel staff brought a few of my things up, including the canvas paintings that Celia and Valentina made. I’d forgotten they remained in the trunk of Jackson’s car. “She can stay here as long as she wants,” Mason suddenly spoke from the doorway to the suite. My face suddenly flamed with nerves, feeling like an imposition. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much-” “You will accept it,” Jackson spoke sternly to me, then took three giant strides over to me and whispered into my ear. “As your Dom, I command it.” Those words send a tingle down my spine. “You will accept it, Elyse. It’s no trouble for me and you’ll put my wife’s mind at ease.” Mason turned and saw my sisters running around the suite, exploring everything. Valentina found the remote control and turned on the television. “We have premium channels!” She announced. “If you don’t do it for yourself, please bloody do it for us- let us do something for you for fuck’s sake,” Mason’s British accent was strong as he spoke in a hushed tone so that the girls wouldn’t hear. I couldn’t object, since both men decided to tag team and gang up on me, with the best intentions possible. “Jillian is thrilled to have her dearest friend in the same building. I’m sure you’re very well aware that

we help our friends. Give us the peace of mind knowing that you’re safe.” Mason’s words were sharp, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak like that before, but his gaze was as direct as his cousin’s. Maybe it’s a family trait. Whatever it was, it forced me to listen and I knew he was sincere. Mason surveyed me for the slightest moment and then when he realized I wasn’t going to object, he turned to Jackson. “I’ll leave you to it. The fridge is fully stocked and I’m not accepting payment for this.” What?! I was left dumbfounded, but overwhelmed by the kindness. Mason left the suite and closed the door on his way out. A lump formed in my throat. I’ve spent twenty-four years carefully building this cement wall around my heart, and chip by chip, the people in my life have been breaking it down lately. Especially Jackson Rochester. Especially him. This man is incredible.

When we first made this arrangement, there was an understanding that we wouldn’t have romantic attachments. It was supposed to be a Dom and Sub relationship, but somehow, we fell into something more. Jackson confused me. He was so attentive, and knew how to balance the lines of firm, rough, and gentle. He sent me gifts, and usually called me at least once every day when we didn’t see each other, yet he said he didn’t want any romantic notions. He’s been so tense, especially in the last week, and I’m sure it had to do with business at the club. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and smiled, admiring the new dress that was sent to my door, courtesy of Jax. The designer dress was a red silk with a trendy black lace overlay. It was incredibly chic. Jackson instructed me to meet him at his club, and I wanted to take his breath away. I took a cab to SoHo, and by the time I arrived, the music was reverberating off the walls. Me: I’m here! Where can I find you? I sent a text to let him know I had arrived. Lush is so large, with four floors and several offices and conference rooms in the back halls, he could be anywhere. The place was packed this evening and I had no hope of finding him on my own. Jackson: I’m in a meeting. His text was brief and I waited for more instructions, but there was nothing. It wasn’t like him to be so brief and vague, especially since he asked me to come here. It took me some time to maneuver my way through the scene on the main floor. At one point, someone stepped on my shoes and I tripped. I stumbled into a waitress and nearly knocked her over. Cocktails and wine spritzers went everywhere. Glass shattered and drinks splashed all over the floor. “Fuck!” She exclaimed. I looked up at her form fitting white uniform dress. It was now stained with the mixers she’d been holding on a tray. My dress was also damp and smelled of gin and tonic, and rich red wine. “Hey sorry about that.” “It’s cool. Second time that’s happened tonight,” she said in a frustrated state, obviously trying to play polite as she does with the clients. “I’ll get someone to clean that up. Watch your step…” Her voice trailed as our eyes met. I recognized those rich brown eyes. Ice suddenly filled my veins,

even though we barely spoke. I hadn’t seen this girl in years, not since the night I made that terrible, drunken mistake… “Shana?” I asked just as she spoke at the same time. “Lissie?” “You work here now?” I was surprised and also mortified to find her working here of all places. “Yeah. I started doing gigs at the piano bar for the same owner, but my main post is here.” She gave a grin. “You look great,” I complimented. I meant it, genuinely. The last time I’d seen Shana, we were both drinking in a dimly lit alley, just outside a rundown restaurant. For a short time, we were two peas in a pod, but never up to any good. I tried to mask my nerves. “Yeah. You’re not the only one who can clean up good.” She smirked and winked, but there was a note in her tone that I didn’t like. She looked around the club and then looked back to me. “So you’re fucking Jackson Rochester. That must be something. Does he know?” My throat constricted, but I looked at her coolly. “Nice to see you too, after all this time. Are you really going there right now?” “Just sayin’, Lis. I heard he fucks like a champ, but it ain’t worth it, babe.” My blood went cold in my veins. I think my heart stopped beating... “That was years ago. He’s probably forgotten about it. And so should you.” “How can you forget something like that, Lis?” She gave an evil smirk, and leaned in to whisper. “Besides, I still have the footage.” This evening quickly escalated into my worst nightmare; it was quickly turning into everything I silently feared for so long. “What are you getting at, Shana?” I asked. “See that girl over there?” She pointed toward a blond in the same form-fitting white dress uniform. She stared at us directly, but looked away when I made eye contact with her. I recognized her as the waitress who let me into the club the first time I met Jackson here. “That’s my friend, Amber. She’s been here since the beginning, when the club first opened. Jackson fucked her, used her and tossed her aside. It’s what he does with his waitresses. I’m just looking out for you, boo.” My face flamed hot, and I felt my defenses flare up. That’s not Jackson. That’s not the man I know... “It’s what he does, Lis. Do you think a single guy who looks like that doesn’t get around? It lasted about two weeks for Amber, but I’d give it two months for you, tops.” “We’ve been together for longer than that.” I grit my teeth, I balled my fists, ready to make her face meet the shattered glass on the floor. “So then you know what he does to people who cross him.” She challenged, eyes scanning the way my fists were rolled. “Look, you’re obviously caught up in whatever he does to you in the sack. I’ll keep it straight with you. He’s used to getting whatever he wants and when it’s not fun anymore, he dumps it and forgets about it.” I pushed past her as she spoke to me. “Just like the Maserati.” I was chilled to the bone, overcome with shame. I stopped and faced her. She gave another smirk as she grabbed my arm. “Look at us, Sweetie, and then look at him.” A thought suddenly crossed her mind, and her expression changed to something pensive, yet wicked. “You told him about your mom?” My eyes widened as chills trickled like ice water down my spine. “Nobody wants to talk about their dead family.” I answered with a hushed tone that dripped with warning. I was ready to claw this bitch. “Just saying, babe. I still have the footage on a flash drive. What would he say if he saw it?” Her eyes

also widened with sarcasm. “Oh my God, what would he think if he learned that your mom-” “Shut the fuck up!” I hissed, and paused before speaking again. “Just tell me what you want.” She shrugged, feigning hesitation. “I can work something out. You have your resources and I have mine, right? We can pretend the whole thing didn’t happen for five grand.” My eyes rounded wide. “Are you fucking crazy? How am I going to get five thousand dollars?” “Don’t act like I’m stupid, Lis. Where do you think you can get money like that? It’s pocket change to a man like Jackson. Take a minute to think about it. What would he really think if he learned who you are? What would he do? The news would be all over that shit: Jackson Rochester dating the woman who vandalized his car- the daughter of the addict who killed... you get what I’m saying.” I pursed my lips. This was a dream from hell. “Tell him you need some money to go shopping.” She winked. She has no idea. That wouldn’t work. I’ve never asked Jackson for anything, let alone money. I couldn’t ask for money to cover up secrets that directly involved him. “Do you still have my number?” Shana persisted. “Let me know. I’m flexible. Otherwise, the flash drive might show up on his desk somehow, and all he has to do is connect the dots.” She shrugged. “I have drinks to serve and a mess to clean up.” “I have to go.” I stated, overcome with emotions and conflict. “Oh, there’s no rush. He’s still in a meeting. Business. Things haven’t been going great tonight.” I ignored her, even as she shouted after me. “Call me!” A dull tension headache was forming at the sides of my temples and I could feel the blood pulsing in my ears, even with the loud techno music blaring around me. I pushed through the crowds, not even bothering to be polite at this point. I rounded the corner and arrived at the mirrored hallway where the restrooms were located. Women waited in the hall, but I walked past them. Security was stationed at the end of the corridor, but they allowed me to pass without question. I rounded another corner, and arrived at Jackson’s office. Two security men were positioned outside, blocking my path, and I heard yelling from the other side of the door. “Can I help you, miss?” One of them asked. “I’m Elyse Mendez. I’m here to see Jackson.” I answered. They exchanged glances and then the first one turned to me and spoke again. “He’s in a business meeting. You can wait in the hall. He won’t be much longer.” “Okay…” Waiting in the hall could be good for the moment. It could give me some time to calm down. My pulse was a raging storm in my veins and he’d see straight through me in an instant if I walked in right now. I leaned against the wall adjacent from the guards, and there was awkward stiffness between us, but there was no silence. “I’ll give you ONE more chance. Tell me- where is my fucking money?” I heard Jackson’s voice crystal clear through the wooden door. The guards tensed and looked between one another before they cast me a sideways glance, but they didn’t budge. Groans and gasps erupted from the room on the other side of the door. “I’ve got a good friend on the phone right now who can come down and give you a good talk.” “No, Mr. Jackson. I’m sorry…” Then there was complete silence, followed by another sharp groan. The door suddenly flung open and a man was thrown into the hall. “Get him out of here!” Jackson ordered. “Take him out back.” A middle-aged man was dragged past me, down the hall toward the back exit. His face was a bloody mess. What the fuck? I froze inwardly. What did that man do to deserve such a thing?

“Elyse. Come in,” Jackson stated smoothly. Without a word, I stiffly entered his office, and nearly jumped when he closed the door behind me and locked it. “My apologies. Sometimes business gets a little… messy.” I watched him wipe his hands with a cloth before he tossed it in the wastebasket beside his desk, and then he disappeared into the bathroom to wash his hands. He returned, assessing me keenly with green eyes that seemed wild. “Did that encounter intimidate you?” “No.” Maybe a little. “You’re lying.” He gave a slight grin as he pulled two crystal tumblers from a top drawer in his desk. He filled each with a shot of bourbon, and handed one to me. I saw that his knuckles were only slightly bruised. I drank deeply, taking the shot in two swift gulps. The burn was stronger than I anticipated and I shuddered. Jackson appeared amused by my reaction to his choice of hard liquor. “What did that man do to deserve that treatment?” I finally asked. Any trace of humor left Jackson’s face, and he sat down in the arm chair across from me. “I’ve been missing money for weeks. My accountant has been going on a rampage, trying to figure out what was wrong with the books. The man you just saw is now an ex-employee. He managed to disable the wiring on a security camera and has been stealing expensive, premium liquor by the bottle for months. When people double cross me, there’s fucking hell to pay.” He downed his shot and poured himself another. I felt paralyzed internally. Memories flooded my mind, coupled with Shana’s threat just thirty minutes earlier. “I don’t think he deserved to be beaten like that.” Jackson looked at me darkly and then his expression shifted to something a little softer. I didn’t understand the sudden shift in his expression. “I try to make it very clear that if an employee is struggling financially, I will do my best to help however I can. I will never allow someone to become homeless or starve because they fell on hard times.” I listened to his words as he spoke, but I couldn’t look him directly in the eyes. “... But if they wrong me because they think I’m an idiot and will never find out, then I have a problem. A very severe problem. That money was set aside for something extremely important, to help people who actually need the help. Nobody crosses me without paying for it.” I could hear the tone in his voice rise with every word. I nodded, although I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I was freaked out by Jackson’s way of handling theft, and I couldn’t help but imagine how he would react if he knew what I’d done to his car years ago. What if Jackson found out what I did? What would he do to me? Would he have me charged? I’d be hauled off to jail in handcuffs. Would he still want to be with me after he found out what my mother did? Not likely and I’d end up with a shattered heart... Before he answered my question, there was a knock on the door. “Mr. Rochester, the police are here to talk to you.” Jackson sighed. “I’m sorry, Peach. I have to handle this.” I nodded, feeling the need to get the hell out of there quickly. I needed time alone to think.



THE SECRET WAS eating at me. The more I fell in love with Jax, the more it consumed me. Shana’s words played over and over again, haunting me. The news would be all over that shit. I pictured Jackson’s face as I told him the truth about his car, about my history. I could envision the look of anger and pain in his expression as he told me to leave and never return. In the beginning, I tried to convince myself that I could handle this arrangement without developing strong feelings for Jackson. I was so wrong. Imagining my life without him created a painful void in my chest. I was distracted at the community center, and Doris asked about a hundred times if I was okay. I shrugged it off and blamed it on school stuff. I had started a summer class at Jackson’s insistence, because it would help me graduate sooner. She didn’t seem convinced that my only problem was school, but she didn’t push it either. Even as I spent the afternoon with the kids I mentor, my mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of what I should or shouldn’t do. I debated whether I should ask Doris for her opinion, but I was too afraid she’d tell me to do the right thing, which involved telling Jackson. I didn’t want to lose him. He has plenty of money to go around, it’s not like that car meant the world to him. I tried to justify this to myself. I’m not the one who played a role in the accident. He doesn’t have to know that part about me. As I was wrapping up my time with the center, my cell phone chimed with an incoming message. I thought it might be Jax or Jillian. Nope. My stomach suddenly churned when I saw who the message was from. Shana: Hey! Been awhile since I heard from you. Do you have it? I wanted to throw up. I typed an answer back, but erased it because that would have antagonized her. Me: Yeah. Working on it. I didn’t hear back from her, but I needed to get to class. I hailed a cab, and on my way to campus, I called Jackson. I tried to calm my breathing as I felt the pulse hammer in my ears. “Hi gorgeous,” his rich, masculine voice flooded my ears. Normally, his voice alone would have dampened my panties, but instead, it tugged at my heart and made my guilt so much worse. “Hey sexy.” I answered. I forced myself to smile, like I was trying to convince myself of my own game of pretend. “So, I had an idea…” “Does it have to do with anything in my kinky room? If so, I’m all ears.” Jax responded in a sultry, flirty voice. He’d been in a stoic mood for the last few days after the incident with the stolen booze, and it

was nice to have him back again. We hadn’t talked about that night again. Part of me wanted to bring it up, but the other part just wanted to forget it happened. Instead, I needed to focus on getting that flash drive from Shana before she went to him with the video. “You’ve been trying to convince me to enjoy myself and let you help me more, and I’ve only ever shopped at second-hand stores, so I was wondering if I could borrow some money to do some real shopping? I promise I’ll get something really sexy to wear for you.” The taxi driver’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror as I said that last part, but I didn’t blush. “Elyse, you know I’ll give you that money. There is no borrowing or payback between us,” Jackson answered. “I’ll give you five thousand, and that’s not open for debate. On second thought, that might not be enough. I’ll give you an extra thousand, but let me know if you need more.” Six thousand? Why does he have to go above and beyond? I was trying to wrap my head around the idea of taking the five thousand. I knew he assumed I’d be shopping at the high end boutiques, where a simple designer shirt could cost hundreds of dollars. “Mason has a personal shopper. I think her name is Amy. I’ll see if she’s available tomorrow to help you pick out some styles at Saks and Jendel.” “No, oh no, that’s okay. I can pick out my own clothes, but thank you.” Jesus. This is just becoming one giant snowball of lies. He’d want to see what I buy, and I’d have to actually go shopping. For now, I just needed to focus on getting Shana off my back without him knowing anything. “Have it your way Ms. Mendez, but I want something sheer, black, and easy to tear off that body. I’ll have the money transferred into your account in the morning.” “Everything is easy for you to tear, and I know what you like,” I teased as flirtatiously as I could manage. “You’re amazing.” “I know.” I could only imagine the smirk he was wearing right now. I swallowed down the lump in my throat; my guilt was overbearing at this point. Just tell him the truth. There doesn’t have to be anymore lying. The confession was on the tip of my tongue. “Are you on your way to class?” He asked. “Yeah.” I was at a loss for anything witty or flirty to say to the man I was deceiving, all for the sake of keeping him. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see you tonight. Stop by the club tonight and we’ll have dinner.” “Okay, I’ll see you tonight. Bye sexy.” I wanted to stay on the phone with him longer. I wanted to talk to him and continue hearing his voice…but too many things were pressing on my mind and now I had another to add to the list. I ended the call, feeling stricken. He called me Sweetheart. He’s never called me that before. Peach, baby, and filthy pet names are what he’s always stuck with- until this moment. Sweetheart. I sat in the backseat of the cab, with my face buried in my hands. The conflict was real. I needed to tell him that I was the one who keyed his Maserati. I needed to tell him about my mom, the accident and her DUI. What would he think of me? If he beats a guy and has him arrested for stealing booze, what would he do to me? He’d leave me, disown me, and never want to have anything to do with me. The damage I did to his car cost more than a few bottles of liquor. I was sure of it, and there’s no reversing what my mom did. It’s not that I blamed myself for my mother’s actions, but it was humiliating. The fact that I was the one who vandalized his car made everything so much worse. I felt the continuous lump overwhelm my throat and I was at a loss over what to do, but I knew I couldn’t go to class like this. There was only one place I could go, and it was something I should have done a long time ago. “I changed my mind. Can you take me to The Darling Hotel on Fifth Avenue?” I asked the cab driver. I needed to see Jillian.



“YOU’RE TIMING IS so perfect. I just put the baby down for a nap,” Jillian greeted me as I stepped onto the perfect marble of their foyer. “Sorry I haven’t been around as much. I’ve just been so busy…” My voice trailed. I came to my best friend to confess…and for advice. “Yeah I know, you’ve been busy with Jackson.” She teased and winked. “Honestly, you two look really cute together.” Cute? That was such a Jillian thing to say. My time with Jackson is anything but cute. “That’s funny, because I was thinking the same thing about you and Mason. You two are adorable.” She rolled her eyes and a pink flush crept up her cheeks. “I wouldn’t call us that. More like…” she cleared her throat and opened the fridge aimlessly. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I got a sandwich from the deli in East Village, but I could go for some wine.” Jillian cast me a funny look and then glanced at the clock with a shrug. “I guess it’s wine o’clock somewhere in the world.” I watched her open a bottled of chilled Pinot Noir as I internally struggled with the best choice of words. It’s not like you killed them, I reminded myself. “I need your advice,” I finally blurted. “Is everything okay between you and Jax?” She asked as she handed me a half-filled glass of wine. “I don’t know. He called me sweetheart on the phone today. He never called me that before,” I said this rapidly before I drank deeply from the glass. My best friend gave me a puzzled expression. “You act like that’s a bad thing…” “I think I’d be thrilled if it was a different lifetime,” I blurted. Jillian sat at the breakfast bar with me, her dark eyes intently locked with mine. I had her undivided attention. I glanced down at the granite surface and then looked at her. “I have something to tell you, and it’s something I’ve kept buried inside for years…” I stalled, but her hand clasped mine. “You can tell me anything, Ly.” I nodded. “The first time I saw Jackson was not at the masked ball. We saw each other when I was nineteen, at a club. I wasn’t myself back then. It was at a time when I was shoplifting, drinking too much and avoiding Doris and the youth center.” Jillian nodded, but never took her hand off mine. She already knew about some of my past. “That night at the club, I almost ran into the guy from my classes who used me in a bet with his friends. You remember that story, right?” I felt the lump consume my throat as I looked at her with glassy eyes. She nodded and squeezed my hand gently. “He drove a white Maserati too and,” I sucked in a deep breath. “I found his car in the valet parking that night.” The tears began spilling down my cheeks before I could even get the words out. “I was drunk, and I thought it was Chance’s car I keyed, but that doesn’t matter. It was still wrong.” I wiped my eyes as soon as the tears surfaced, because this story wasn’t even the worst part. There was silence as Jillian waited for me to say more. How can she be so calm as I tell her this?! “I never told Jackson, and I’ve been keeping this secret all these years. I didn’t avoid him just because I thought he’d break my heart. I’ve liked him all this time, but I was afraid of him finding out… ”

Jillian remained quiet for several moments, but she never let go of my hand. “I’ve seen Jackson with other dates in the past, but he’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. There’s something in his eyes when he looks at you. I can’t describe it. I don’t think he’ll hate you for keying his car, Ly.” I could barely speak as I wiped the tears from my face. “I really doubt you compare to a car, Ly. Jax really cares about you. He’s even paying for your room at the hotel. “You’re not a car, Ly. You mean more than that to him.” I shook my head adamantly. “That’s not all of it.” My best friend was quiet, listening for me to say more. After gathering my thoughts, I spoke slowly. “At your anniversary dinner, I wasn’t completely honest with you. I pretended I didn’t know what happened to Jackson’s family. I did; I’ve known since I was nine.” I tried to swallow the lump that built up. Jillian eyed me curiously, but remained silent. “His parents and Penelope were in a car accident that was caused by an intoxicated driver.” Her brow creased. “You read old articles?” “No…” I traced imaginary circles on the granite breakfast bar as I spoke hesitantly. “I know because that driver was my mom.” My face suddenly felt hot as the confession left my lips. The entire room spiked in temperature. Jill’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God…” I couldn’t look at her. “She’d already given me up by then, but my social worker and foster parents weren't quiet about it. But, he blames himself for their deaths. They died on the night of his art show. I never told him about the driver.” The silence was killing me. I waited with baited breath for her to say something. She inhaled deeply and spoke. “I think Jackson is in love with you, even if he hasn’t said those words yet… but you need to tell him the truth.” “I’m afraid of losing him.” “Even if you keep this secret from him, the truth will eat at you until it destroys your relationship with him. And you will lose him if that happens.” I looked at her. She placed her hand on my shoulder. “Trust is the most important part of any relationship. Believe me.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Jackson doesn’t love me.” Jill ignored that statement. “You have to tell him, whether or not you think he loves you. Tell him tonight, when you’re alone in private. Do you care about him?” “Yes,” I answered hoarsely. “I love him. So much.” She nodded pensively. “Tell him that, too. Open up to him, Ly, and then tell him the ugly truth.” I cringed. “How can I open up to him when I don’t know if he’ll break my heart?” She pursed her lips into a thin line. “I didn’t promise it will be easy, but it’s the right thing to do because you love him. Do you want a little more wine?” “No, I need a clear head for what I’m about to do.” I answered as I slid off the bench. My head was fuzzy, spinning, but I knew I needed to get this sack of bricks off my chest. As I said this, my lower lip trembled. “I have to go. There’s something I need to do.” Jillian wrapped her arms around me. “You can do this, and I still love you, Ly. I’m here for you. Let me know later how it went.” I nodded solemnly, terrified out of my mind, but Jillian also strengthened my determination to set things straight with Jackson. As I left the penthouse, another message chimed from Shana.

Shana: The sooner, the better boo. That message pissed me off. Me: Go fuck yourself. He means more to me than the money. My fingers trembled as I pushed send. I waited for a response as I took another cab to the club. I knew I looked a mess. My face was blotchy and I checked myself in the compact mirror, attempting to fix the smeared mascara that ran down my face. By now, everyone who works for Jackson at the club knows who I am. The club wasn’t open yet, and the employees were setting up for the evening. I walked in, expecting to see Shana and Amber somewhere on the main floor, which was their usual station. I walked across the black marble, remaining alert for any impending confrontation, but they were nowhere to be seen. That’s when I became even more alarmed. As I rounded the mirrored hall and saw security posted outside Jackson’s office door, the dread became real. “Hi Elyse,” one of the security personnel greeted me. He wasn’t rude or friendly. “Is Jackson busy?” I asked, trying to sound more confident than I really felt. “He’s in a meeting with some staff. You can enter shortly.” Shit. Shit. Shit! That alarmed me to no end. “I need to see him. NOW.” I insisted. They exchanged glances between one another. “He wants to see me,” I was adamant. They looked at one another again hesitantly, and then knocked before punching the code on the door. One of the personnel opened the door a crack. “Boss. Your girl is here. She wants to see you.” “Send her in,” I heard Jackson say faintly. There was an edge to his voice, and I knew this wasn’t going to end well. I could already tell. I hesitated for the briefest second, wondering if I should go through with this, or run. Fight or flight. I choose to fight. I don’t know how, but my feet carried me through the office door. That’s when I saw Shana and Amber sitting across from Jackson. They both looked at me with smug expressions. Smirks I wanted to punch off their faces. Jackson sat at his desk, with a laptop screen opened, facing him. His green eyes looked up at me, stormy. Intimidating. Frightening. This might be even worse than I ever imagined.



“MR. ROCHESTER, WE have something to show you, and we feel you need to see this,” Amber explained as she sat in front of my desk. My patience was slim to none, and even though my mood was shot to hell, I’ve always tried to remain fair to all my employees. Tried. I’ve noticed two of my waitresses acting funny over the last few weeks, but I wasn’t quite sure what they were up to. The culprit behind the missing booze was caught and arrested and they were removed from the suspect list weeks ago. Still, I found them huddled together, whispering. I kept an eye on them through the security system in place, although they probably had no clue. Shana has worked for me a little over six months and always did an amazing job with my clients. I had no complaints about her work ethic. My senses began picking up on a rash of jealousy when Amber began slipping in the word, Sir, as she performed her tasks at work. The women asked to meet with me this evening on short notice, insisting there was an important business matter they needed to discuss with me. I humored them, even though I was on the verge of tossing them out the door. Shana plugged a flash drive into her laptop and then displayed the screen for me to have full view. “This better be quick. I’m behind in work,” I rolled my eyes, and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Oh, you’ll thank us. Trust me.” Amber stated. I highly doubt that. She clicked a button and the screen played. The image was grainy, but I clearly made out the form of Elyse. I narrowed my eyes as I watched her form move around a white Maserati in a parking garage. That was my car. I remember that car… There was laughing as she took a set of keys and ran it along the bodywork of my car. Something unfurled within me. “Ly, smile for the camera.” I heard another girl’s voice, the culprit behind the video recorder. “Fuck you.” Elyse answered in a drunken state and they both laughed as she etched a message on the side of my Maserati. “Boss. Your girl is here. She wants to see you.” I stared at Elyse as she entered my office. I could tell by her pale, blotchy appearance that she’d been crying. Her mascara was still a bit smudged. Her glassy eyes immediately darted from mine to the open laptop that played that last few seconds of the short video. The blaring noise of the car alarms blasted from the speakers just before the video ended. I assessed her as she looked between the women sitting together, and then to me. Shana turned to look at me. “Mr. Rochester, we really felt you should know who you’re dealing with.” Amber nodded sagely.

“Jackson-” Elyse began from across the room, and she quickly approached my desk. “Everyone in this building calls me Mr. Rochester.” It was a bullshit line I gave her, but I was clinging to any bit of control I had left. “I need to talk to you in private, please.” She said this more firmly. She pressed her lips into a thin line as she clenched her jaw in determination. I cast a sideways glance toward the women, who appeared way too confident and smug. I’d deal with them next. “I came here to tell you the truth. Everything.” There was a plea in Elyse’s voice and her face grew even more pale as she spoke. She gestured toward the open laptop. “I’m not that girl anymore.” The real truth was that despite everything, the video itself didn’t really phase me. It was her lies and secrets that angered me. It was evidently clear that she didn’t actually want to go shopping with the six grand I was so willing to give her. When she realized she was cornered, she became desperate to spill the truth. “Does he know about the accident?” Shana asked. Elyse’s face went white as she looked at me. “What accident?” Now my curiosity was piqued. “I need to talk to you in private,” Elyse urged. “I can’t believe you never told him!” Shana exclaimed, but I pointed a finger at her. “Shut up.” I grit my teeth, and she shrank in her chair. My eyes flicked back to Elyse. “What accident?” She licked her lips, looking terrified and I was worried that she’d gotten into some other kind of trouble. I stood and rounded the desk, then took her hand and pulled her to the opposite wall, away from Amber and Shana. “Talk to me,” I insisted. Her fingers were chilled as I kept my hands clasped over them. Despite the outdated video, I still felt a strong desire to keep her protected. She licked her lips again; her face was so white and she bowed her head in shame. “I have to tell you something and I need to tell you because I care about you. I… I…” She faltered in her words. “There’s no easy way to say this without tearing open old wounds,” she kept her head dipped, but I slid two fingers under her chin and forced her gaze back up to me. She bit her lower lip and the confession spewed. “When I was nine, my mom handed me over to social services. Two months later, she was caught with drugs in her car after causing an accident which killed a man, woman, and um.. a thirteen year old girl.” As she said this, my chest clenched. My stomach knotted and my jaw tightened. This struck a chord with me- a very deep, bad note. “Did you decide to confess before or after you realized I learned the truth?” The tone in my voice was growing stronger with every syllable. “Answer me this: did these women try to blackmail you?” Her breathing shook, but she looked me square in the eyes. “I came here to do the right thing. I don’t want to keep anything from you anymore.” “You didn’t answer my question, Elyse. I asked you: Did these women try to blackmail you? Did you come here to try to clean up the mess, to collect the money before I found out the truth?” “Yes, Shana tried to blackmail me. She wanted five grand for her silence. I almost went through with it, but I didn’t.” Elyse grit her teeth. I nodded and roughly released my grasp on her hands. “In most situations, I’d say better late than never, but in this case I think you came here to get money and when you realized I was told the truth, you panicked.” “No!” Elyse objected, balling her fists. “My mom gave me up before it happened. I was only a child when the accident happened. Please, Jackson-” “Mr. Rochester,” I snapped, correcting her. “You knew all this time, and you kept that hidden from me.

You were going to take my own money to cover it all up, weren’t you?” Tears streamed down her face, and it pained me to see her cry like this. I’ve never, in all my time with her, seen this woman cry. Here she was, an open faucet in front of me. I couldn’t let the sight of her like this distract me from what needed to be done. “I need to talk to you. Let me tell you everything. I didn’t come here for the money. I need to be open with you-” I held a hand up for silence. I was livid, not because of the vandalism, but because of her lies, because she tried to use my money to pay off secrets in an effort to keep me out of it. Most of all, I was still furious with myself. I was reeling from the idea that Elyse’s own mother was the intoxicated driver behind the wheel that night. I couldn’t talk to her or even look at her. I cast a sideways glance toward the women who remained seated across the room. I could see the waitresses were soaking this all up with such greed in their eyes, loving every minute of this as it unfolded. I dragged this out long enough in front of them. “You may leave.” I said stiffly. Elyse stood there with tears still streaming down her face, staring at me in disbelief. “Elyse, if you think I’m going to change my mind, you’re mistaken. I said LEAVE. NOW.” She gulped and the faucet poured over even more. “Curtis will see you out.” I stated and gestured with a wave of my hand for the burly security to escort her away from the premises. I couldn’t deal with her and the employees at the same time.



I WAS BLINDED WITH tears as I made the trip back to The Darling Hotel to see Jillian. Even at the lowest points in my life, I never felt so humiliated. I don’t remember a time when rejection and pain was this extreme. These girls wanted to see me ruined, well here I am. Jackson didn’t even listen to me. Shana called me out about the accident before I could tell him. As I took a deep gulp of air on the sidewalk outside the hotel, I realized something important. I cared more about Jackson’s heart than I did about getting charged. Jillian was in gray pajama bottoms and wearing her favorite NYU sweatshirt when I arrived at the penthouse. Her wild, dark auburn waves were bunched into a ponytail and she’d taken out her contact lenses for the evening. “Ly!” She hugged me and it only triggered my incessant sobbing, so the shoulder of her sweatshirt was soaked. She didn’t seem to care. “You told him?” “I didn’t get a chance!” I choked, and she stroked my hair as the tears flowed more. “Those bitches were already there. They showed him the video on the flash drive. They showed him everything. He wouldn’t listen to me. I tried, but he thinks I was only there for the money.” I looked up and saw Mason holding a bottle of his Macallan. He was still in his suit and tie, as though he’d just arrived home from the office. I suddenly felt like an imposition. I straightened and backed away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t mean to intrude.” I said this quickly, heading for the elevator. “No, come back here.” Jillian grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me away from the door. “If the cops come, then it will be really bad for your hotel’s reputation-” “Fuck the reputation,” Mason interjected. “I don’t know what you bloody did, but no police are coming for you.” “And if the police do come for you, which they won’t,” Jillian added sternly, “then we’ll just bail you out. Come on. Let’s go talk.” I sat in the sitting room with Jillian and talked quietly with her. The tears would come and go. I don’t remember a time I’ve ever cried so much as I did that night. The last time I cried was when I was ten, when my mom handed me over to the state. I don’t remember crying again after that, not until tonight. “I always knew that if I opened up to him and told him the truth, he’d want nothing to do with me. That’s why I was afraid of getting close to him. I should have listened to my instincts to stay away.” I gulped back the urge to cry again. My eyes couldn’t handle anymore. I knew they were as red as they were burning. Mason suddenly appeared, and set down a bottle of wine and two containers of ice cream. “Aw, thank you, love.” Jillian looked up at her husband with such adoration in her dark eyes.

“Women like ice cream and wine, right?” He looked down at her with a slight smirk. She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Thank you,” we both said at the same time. He didn’t say much more before he left the room and closed the door. “He has to fix every problem and feels out of control when he doesn't know what to do.” Jillian explained. I nodded. “It’s nice having someone to come home to every night, isn’t it?” I asked. She nodded and spoke with a pink flush in her cheeks. “We have our rocky points but I’ve loved him since I was a teenager. Sometimes I still pinch myself to make sure it’s not a dream.” “I want that,” I said quietly. “I always have. I’ve tried to pretend that I don’t need anyone, but I do…” I felt broken down. I knew all along that Jackson had the power to break my heart into thousands of pieces and ruin me, and I was right about that. “You can have that. It’s not too late.” Jillian answered with her hand on my arm. “I don’t know why he dismissed you like that, but I know he still cares for you very much.” “No, J. It is too late. He knows the truth and he wants nothing to do with me.” As I said this, a stream of fresh tears flowed down my face. She held me tightly. “I love him so much, but I’ve lost him.” The pain wasn’t just emotional. I felt the physical ache in my chest, too.



I WATCHED HER EXIT my office, taking my heart with her, while devastation and deceit thundered through me, but I had a situation to deal with. I gripped my pen as I looked across the desk at the pair of waitresses who thought they’d won some sort of silent competition. “We just felt you needed to know what you were getting yourself into,” Amber stated for about the tenth time. “And do you expect me to pat you on the back and give you a cookie for your good deed?” I answered pointedly. I locked eyes with her, but she turned away and squirmed in her chair. “Did you consider it your civic duty to blackmail Elyse?” My tone was adamant. Shana also shifted uncomfortably. That works for me. Apparently, they wanted to play a game, and I’ll play along. I slammed the laptop shut and ripped the flash drive out. Inwardly, I wanted to break something, but I kept myself controlled even though I felt my temper slipping. The weakness to keep Elyse protected, to hold her, was still strong even after I dismissed her from my office. I wanted these women to pay, but I needed to calm the fuck down. After several moments, I casually tossed the flash upwards and caught it with the same hand. “So.. Shana. How do you know Elyse?” I asked coolly. “She was my roommate years ago, but she was a total klepto.” Shana answered with an air of caution. What a goddamn liar. “I see.” I answered, playing with my fountain pen. “I am grateful you brought this to my attention.” They both gave tight lipped, nervous smiles. “I wonder though…” I mused out loud. They leaned in slightly, hanging on every word that might come out of my mouth. I’m used to getting this reaction from people, especially from the women. They waited with baited breath. “I wonder if you realize that it is your voice in the recording of this vandalism. That car cost me thousands to repair. If I take this to the police- No, when. When I take this to the police,” I emphasized the word as I looked at her directly. “You’ll be charged as an accomplice. Didn’t that ever cross your mind?” Her mouth dropped open, and I watched the blood drain from her face. Apparently, that thought never crossed her mind. I was blown away by the carelessness. Both women exchanged glances with one another. “Mr. Rochester, I promise you that I knew nothing about this. I honestly thought-” I held up a hand to quiet Amber. She’d been throwing daggers at Elyse every chance she got ever since Elyse walked into my club. She’s been jealous from the start because she’s been more than desperate to be my sub. I knew her from an exclusive club I used to attend. She wanted to try the lifestyle and I was

willing to show her. She was eager to a point, but she tried topping from the bottom too many times and didn’t follow orders. I dismissed her as my sub before I even fucked her, but she begged to keep her job because the money was good. I’m not that much of a prick, and I kept her on staff. I knew she was aiming to make Elyse pay. “You must have known about this if you saw the flash drive. You wouldn’t charge into my office to make claims based on what she said, correct? You watched the flash drive?” Amber swallowed hard and her face flamed red. She squirmed. Good. Fucking perfect. “Just as I thought,” I answered. “My lawyer will want to know when I file the charges. You withheld information.” “I didn’t. I came to you now.” “After how long?” I asked as I pretended to scribble something down on a paper. I paid little attention to them as they sat there. My lack of acknowledgement only added to the intimidation factor. “Is this the only copy available? My lawyer and the police will want to know.” Both women looked like they were about to piss themselves. I almost wished Elyse was here to give me some sort of retort. This was too easy. “Y-yes,” they answered together, and they looked at one another with wide eyes. “That’s good. At least you won’t be charged with invasion of privacy.” These women were clueless, so I threw out whatever bullshit line came to my mind. Amber exhaled, but I noticed how her hands still trembled. “And you are telling me the truth this time, correct?” I asked with an intensity in my tone. They nodded. “Yeah. It’s the only one. I swear it.” “Good.” Without another word, I threw the device on the floor and smashed it under my foot. It crunched into tiny shards. Their mouths fell open, and Amber gasped in disbelief. I turned around sharply and leaned over them. They flinched. “If I hear so much as a single goddamn peep about this, I’ll feed you to the sharks. Got it?” They only nodded. “Get the fuck out of my club before I change my mind. I want your lockers cleared out!” They sprinted out of my office and I slammed the door after them, but not before I ordered security to escort them. Now alone with my thoughts, I raked my hands through my hair as I paced back and forth. I felt out of control and my need to throw something, to break something was overwhelming. I couldn’t cause a scene right before the busiest night of the week was about to take place. Instead, I slumped in my office chair and raked my hands through my hair as her beautiful face plagued my mind. Why did she choose now to confess her secrets to me? Those tears streaming down her face were genuine. I knew that much. Elyse would never fake tears like that. Still, it was more than a coincidence that she wanted money to go shopping just hours before Shana and Amber showed me that old footage. She lied to me, and attempted to weasel money from me to pay off those girls. She tried to use my money to keep her secrets away from me. The way her eyes rounded and the tightness in her throat told me she wasn’t expecting Shana to mention the car accident. I wasn’t expecting that either, and I gave a knee jerk reaction. I was still coping with that half of the truth. I still blamed myself for their deaths, but other thoughts clouded my mind. The entire display this evening showed me how little Elyse actually trusted me. Instead of coming to her Dom as she should have, she tried to use me. She only proved how little I can trust her. I can’t be with a woman- No, I can’t be with a submissive who can’t trust me. I crossed my office and poured myself a

shot of whiskey, but the burn didn’t do anything to distract me from the gorgeous blue eyes that haunted my thoughts. My heart was in fucking shreds. I’ve never been so wrecked by any woman before and I needed time to think. I pulled out the small glass bottle of blue label whiskey, hidden in a compartment in the top desk drawer. I uncorked the bottle and reclined back in the chair as I attempted to distract myself in the dark amber glass.



JILLIAN AND I SAT on the sofa in her sitting room and talked until I had nothing more to say. My eyes felt swollen and heavy from all the crying, and I felt absolutely drained. However, some of the weight had lifted from my chest at the same time I told Jillian everything I’ve kept bottled up for years. There wasn’t a trace of judgment in her eyes. I finally returned to my room around two in the morning, feeling somewhat better. The look on Jackson’s face still haunted me though. With a heavy sigh, I entered the front door and the light flicked on automatically. My mind was buzzing with thoughts. How can I redeem myself? Is there anything I can say or do…? I removed my sweater and shoved a hand through my hair in deep thought, and then pulled my cell phone from my bag and stared at the blank screen. Should I call him? Aimlessly, I walked across the room and headed toward the bedroom, but froze in my tracks when I looked up. It felt like my heart stopped beating when I realized he’d been waiting for me to return. He sat in the plush arm chair beside my bed, with a glass tumbler of scotch. His tie was missing and the top three buttons of his crisp white shirt was unfastened. The sleeves, as always, were rolled to his elbows. He stared at me, from across the room. His eyes were scorching, but this look was different than the way he usually looked at me. His expression was dark, haunting and almost seemed malicious. He held the look of a man who could ruin me, and not think twice about it. My heart palpitated, but I opened my mouth to say something. I’m sorry, those were the first words that came to mind, but he spoke first. “I gave you so many chances to talk to me,” he said stoically. His voice was rich and crisp, holding that domineering tone that often made me feel safe and desired. This time, I could tell that he’d been drinking. I could see, by the ominous way he studied me, that all was not forgiven. “What could I say?” I asked. “You’re Jackson Rochester, Manhattan’s elite. I’m a nobody from the foster system with a juvenile record. Do you know how many times I wanted to tell you everything? There was no easy way to tell you that my own mother is the one who killed your parents and sister.” “You were just going to continue our relationship while keeping that secret from me.” His voice was a deep growl and he set the glass tumbler on the table with such a firm thud. The contents of the glass splashed out onto the wooden surface of the nightstand. I jumped slightly, and he stood. He took two powerful strides and was suddenly towering over me. “You could have come to me about that. I would never hold you responsible for your mother’s actions, but this- lying, sneaking around behind my back to get money, is inexcusable.” The spicy scent of his cologne was mixed by the overpowering smell of scotch and whiskey. “How could I tell you what I’ve done? What my mom did? When could I tell you- in the middle of a

dinner date while you whispered those hot, sinful things in my ear? In front of my sisters at the fairgrounds?” I grit my teeth, feeling like my chest was going to explode. “I was terrified you would take action against me, that you’d ruin me. And then after I got to know you, I was more scared of losing you-” “Well you just did!” His eyes were a fiery blaze as they burned through me. Those words gripped my stomach, and I felt the blood drain from my face. I felt frozen, unable to speak or see clearly. “Jackson, please. I’m so sorry about what I did to your car. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about my mom and the crash. I’ve felt that shame for years.” He inclined his head as he studied me, but the sneer on his face remained intact. “The shame you claim to have, did that come before or after the bitch tried to blackmail you? Did you feel that guilt before or after you called me, asking for shopping money?” “I’ve always had that guilt!” I pursed my lips as my over-tired eyes started welling up with more tears. Again. “It was stupid to call you and ask you for money, but I never took the money-” I couldn’t go through with it. I love you so muchI reached up to caress his face, but he pushed my hand away, and I nearly lost any strength I had left. “Like hell you didn’t, Elyse. I never considered you a gold-digging whore,” He gave me a very condescending once-over. This isn’t Jackson. This isn’t the man I know, the one I’ve fallen in love with. “I never took the money, and I wasn’t going to take it. I went to the club to see you because I was going to tell you the truth. Everything. Jackson, you have to believe me.” I swiped at a stray tear. He only stared down at me, his body forced me back and pressed me against the cream colored wall. His body was merciless, and I could barely breathe from the strength he used to corner me. “I don’t have to believe anything, Elyse. You went around, behind my back. Rather than come to me, your Dom, you tried to get money from me all for the sake of keeping the truth from me!” His nostrils flared as he looked at me. He suddenly slammed a palm into the wall, right next to my head and I flinched. “Tell me, little mouse, did you really think I had no clue what you did to my car?” He sneered into my ear. What? I looked up at him, blinking in shock. “You knew?” “I’ve known all along. Do you really think I can manage every enterprise I own if I was that daft? I make it my business to know. Why the fuck do you think you weren’t slapped with charges?” The tone in his voice was cruel; I didn’t recognize this man at all, but his words gripped me. “I don’t understand…” What a stupid, shitty thing to say. Of course I understood what he was implying, but I needed to hear him elaborate more. He kept his palm plastered against the wall beside my head, his body pressed so firmly against mine, it felt like the oxygen had been vacuumed from the room. “I saw you dancing with your friend, looking like a little vixen in red- so fucking hot and delicious. The way you looked at me, taunting my cock with those sexy as fuck moves you were pulling on the dance floor. I knew you’d serve as the perfect challenge, the distraction I needed.” His words cut me. I remembered the humiliation I felt when I learned that I was nothing more than a challenge, a bet for Chance Tanner and his group of rich friends. I looked up at him, feeling the sharp, twisting knife as his eyes glittered down at me, daring me to say something haughty. “You’re no better than the prick who used me as a bet in college. I was nothing more than a challenge to him. You’re just being cruel.” He smirked. “Sweetheart. If I wanted to be cruel, I’d show you a visit from the NYPD or slap you with

some reasonable fines. I’m the reason you got away with what you did.” I was so confused, pumped on adrenaline, but over exhausted in every way possible at the same time. His words tore at me. Judging by the way he looked down at me, angry and demeaning, he expected me to retort with some sort of comeback. But I had nothing. I was completely depleted, cut from the inside out. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m so sorry…” I finally spoke, feeling my lower lip tremble. Shit. He continued to stare down at me with an unreadable mask. “Thank you for telling me what you really think of me. It makes perfect sense now, why someone like you would ever show interest in someone like me.” I didn’t even wait to hear his response. I didn’t even look at him as I said this. In a blur of motions, I pushed his body off mine and made a beeline for the door. I never looked back. I harshly closed the door behind me, thinking of nothing. I was stricken, filled with grief and guilt. I never thought to pack my clothes, or to tell him to get out of my hotel room. Because it wasn’t my hotel room; he was paying for it. Despite everything he’s done for me, and all the tender moments in between, his words tore into my soul and imprinted in my mind: challenge, distraction, gold digger. I thought about my mom and what she’d done- not only to me, but to Jackson and Piper. I wandered the halls of the hotel aimlessly for what felt like an eternity, until I found a corner by the utility closet. Everything was quiet at this hour since it wasn’t even four in the morning yet. I slumped down by the closet door, and buried my head in my hands. Everything came crashing down. I remembered every time he fished for my confession. I had no idea he knew so much, and I waited until it was too late… I was shattered.



I REMEMBER THE FIRST time I saw Elyse. It was roughly five years ago. I’d just returned to Manhattan from Los Angeles when I agreed to check out a new club in downtown SoHo. It was rumored to be trendy and upscale, and was owned by the friend of a colleague, who was interested to know my opinion on the layout. My real estate firm sold the building for the club, so I was intrigued to see how it turned out. The owner also wanted to meet with me and discuss the possibility of expansion, meaning more business for my firm, so I agreed to an informal meeting of sorts at his club. As soon as I entered the establishment, my name spread around like wildfire. If they didn’t know me through business, they knew my father, or they showed their sympathy for the loss of my family all over their faces. I was always polite and professional, but I became numb to it at the same time. I glanced around the club, appreciating the layout, but immediately forgot the design and decor when I spotted her across the floor. Her back was to me and I watched those supple hips and the contours of that round, delicious ass move beneath the red dress she wore. Large gold hoops hung from her ears and when she turned, I saw the glorious perfection of those tits, which were squeezed and tucked into the cleavage of that tight red dress. Her friend spotted me first and I took great pleasure in watching them stop and stare. I was only transfixed on the raven-haired beauty with the gorgeous blue eyes. I was perplexed, finding her familiar in some way. I watched her dance, and she smiled coyly in my direction. She was dancing just for me. I watched her skim those hands down the curve of her hips as she bit her lower lip. Christ. She was toying with me, and she had no idea who she was playing with. She needed to be spanked. I wanted to fuck. I needed to fuck, to see her bent over, gasping for air. I needed to see tears streaming down her face as she cried out from the pleasure I could give her. I watched her, still trying to figure out where I’ve seen this she-devil before. Her eyes met mine, and I silently coaxed her to come to me. It’s always worked with every woman. I can’t remember a time my charming stare let my cock down. She took a step toward me, but then stopped and hesitated after her friend whispered in her ear. “Hi handsome,” a woman approached my side, wearing an expensive designer dress. Her body language screamed ‘easy fuck.’ I was never interested in ‘easy.’ I wanted the gorgeous girl with the coy grin, the one who looked like she’d be a lot to handle. The small group waiting to see my client headed toward the VIP room, and I went along with them as I slinked my hand on the lower back of the woman who tried to hang on me. It was all for show; I had no plans to take her home with me. My sights were set on the minx dancing on the main floor. I’d spend twenty minutes in the meeting and then hunt her

down, and then spend the rest of the evening drowning in the distraction of her sweet, tight cunt. I only wanted another distraction, something to take my mind off the demons that haunted me much more frequently at the time. As I sat in the meeting, trying like hell to focus on what was being said, my mind kept drifting to that woman. What was it about her? No woman has ever gripped my attention to that extreme before, and I still wondered where I’d seen her before. “Rochester, you still have those charities running, yes?” Someone asked, and I barely heard them. The only word that registered in my mind was charities. That’s when it clicked. “Yes, only one, currently, but I keep my name out of the press. I have a spokesperson who announces decisions on my behalf.” Holy shit. Why didn’t I see it earlier? I thought silently to myself, again lost in thought as the people around me continued to laugh and mingle in the back room. I remembered the letter that was addressed to my operations manager at the firm a year earlier. It had been forwarded to my secretary and was at the top of a pile on her desk. I’d knocked the stack over in my rush to the office one morning, and the letter fell out of its envelope. The beautiful handwritten script, addressed from East Village Youth Center, caught my eye and I swiped it before heading into my office. I read it, then read it again. And again. Every time I read it, I thought of Penny. She would have jumped at the chance to help this center. I never admitted to anyone that I found her diary shortly after the funeral, and a piece of me died when I read what she wrote, when I was reminded of what an arrogant asshole I was to her while she was alive. I folded the letter and researched East Village Youth Center online. There was a partially-made website. The center had a welcome page with broken links that were supposed to direct visitors to other areas of the program’s site. What caught my eye front and center was the picture of a teenage girl in a yellow shirt, and no makeup. Her black hair was pulled into a side braid and she wore those large gold hoops. The photo on the welcome page had been captioned, Elyse Mendez is one of our center’s college volunteers. We’d just had a budget meeting the week before, so I knew that my firm exhausted the charity budget for the year, but I had another resource in mind which would take the youth center much farther. I picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers to my building, based in Midtown. “Jan,” I greeted. “It’s Jackson Rochester. I need you to get Jeremy Waters on the phone.” I waited for a few seconds while my spokesman’s assistant fell all over the sound of my voice on the other end of the phone, and then waited while Jeremy took the phone from his office. I didn’t want my name attached to any of this. I was doing this for Penny, my sister, and everything she could have accomplished if she was still alive. That’s why the woman on the dance floor looked so familiar. She’s the one who wrote to my firm asking for financial help, the one who pushed me to initiate connections between the Penny Jane Foundation, and that little tiny youth center in Brooklyn… but I still wanted to fuck her. In a very bad way. She was so naughty on that main floor, and bad girls get spankings. Naughty girls get tied up with rope, bound, completely at my mercy as I suck on their clit and leave my red handprint on their ass. I could have fun with this woman. I sensed that she needed what I could give her, and she’d give me what I needed from her. There couldn’t be any consequences, because nobody knows who really owns the Penny Jane Foundation. When I finally emerged from the meeting in the private room, I scanned the floor for that woman in the red dress. I didn’t find her, but the club’s security personnel approached me. They told me that my

car had been damaged. I walked with them down the street, where the valet attendant apologized profusely. I ignored him as I surveyed the damage. My front windshield was smashed with a chunk of concrete from the sidewalk, and a message was etched into the driver’s side door: Fuck U Prick. “Where the fuck was the security? You can’t leave cars like this unattended!” My temper boiled over. The valet attendant continued to babble apologies, but mentioned that street cameras probably caught the perpetrator. I snapped my fingers, and demanded to see the footage, and I did- at the police station. My breathing stopped when I watched the grainy, silent footage of the woman from the dance floor smashing the window of my Maserati and quickly leaving a message with a set of keys. I shook my head, feeling as red as my face must have looked. This was the same woman who wrote to my firm, passionately trying to save a youth center, the same woman who supposedly volunteered at this youth center. What the hell happened to her? “We have her file in the system,” an officer said. “Rest assured we’re dealing with this now.” “NO.” I don’t know what got into me, but I held up a hand to stop the officers. “I’m not pressing charges.” They paused a moment, obviously confused. “Mr. Rochester, this is nothing personal against you, but this girl has a record.” “A record? What kind of record?” “She has a few misdemeanors on file from when she was about sixteen.” “Sixteen?” I sputtered. “Anything between then and tonight?” “Nothing.” I was still furious about my car, but it wasn’t anything money couldn’t fix easily. “Let me handle this situation.” I pulled out my wallet and fished out a few large bills. The officer’s eyes widened and they exchanged glances. I had it in mind to pay the youth center a little visit in the morning. I’d speak to the director. I knew Doris lightly through brief communication over the last few months. I’d find out what happened to this woman, and if Doris can’t reach out to her, then I might have to press charges. In that moment I knew one thing for certain: she can’t be what I need. Maybe someday down the road, but definitely not right now.

STUPID. SO GODDAMN STUPID. I was drunk, and a fucking prick. The look on her face as I said those words haunted me for the last three days. I knew you’d serve as the perfect challenge, the distraction I needed. The way her pale face glanced up at me, the way her eyes filled with so much pain as I said that. It gutted me, seeing her like that, but I’d had too much scotch and I was angry, which makes for a bad combination. “Hey sexy.” I felt the silky arms of a beautiful woman snake around me as I sat at the polished bar in one of Malibu’s upscale bars. Normally I might flirt and toy with her while I tested her to see if she’s exactly what I want, but she’s not Elyse. I’d come to this bar for a distraction. I didn’t want to think about her. I only wanted to get lost in another woman’s thighs, but it was useless. No matter how close I came to finding another fuck, I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t forget the look in her eyes, the scent of her hair and skin, the way her breathing picked up whenever she was excited or aroused… I couldn’t shake

her from my mind. My angel, my peach. I clasped the smooth wrists of the woman and unhooked her arms from my neck. “Not tonight,” I gave her a gruff answer as I knocked back another shot of whiskey. “Not tonight or not ever?” She asked with a pout of her lips. “The latter,” I responded tersely before I waved down the bartender. “Okay, booze boy. It’s time to get you out of here.” I almost forgot I’d dragged my sister with me to California for a few days. She loves the west coast as much as I do, but I don’t think she expected to babysit her drunk brother all night. She’d just returned from the restroom to find a woman hanging on me, just after I finished six shots while she’d left me for five minutes. The woman at my side gave us both a long once over, came to her own conclusions, and left me at the bar. Piper pulled me up and hooked my arm over her shoulder as she steadied me. “I got it. I got it,” I slurred. She rolled her eyes and secured my arm more tightly over her shoulder. “If you don’t come with me now, I’m going to knee you were it hurts, just like I did when we were eight.” I laughed, even though that memory wasn’t funny, but I let her take me back to the beach front house I kept right on Malibu Road. A cool ocean breeze brushed my face and the salty air gave me a slight sense of comfort, as it always does. That’s why I chose this property. The lull of ocean waves and salty breezes have always been a calming mechanism for me, and this property has its own private beach. My private beach. The roll of the ocean waves greeted me, but the alcohol was rich in my system as I fumbled for my cell phone from the pocket of my black slacks. “How is Elyse? Have you heard from her?” “She’s been staying with Jill and Mason.” Piper’s brisk voice answered as she huffed and puffed, struggling to keep my weight steady on her shoulders. She guided me into the large house and threw me down on the expensive cream leather sofa in the front room. I started dialing her number, squinting to focus my blurred vision on the numbers. Piper snatched the phone from my hand. “What the fuck, sis?” I asked as I threw my head back against the pillows. She tossed a duvet over my body. “You’re not calling her until you’re ready to actually talk with a clear head. When you can act like an adult.” She piqued a thin, dark eyebrow at me. “I can’t guarantee that you won’t make things worse, or say something that’s really nasty, just because you’re drunk and still angry.” “I have every reason to be fucking angry.” I growled. “Justifiably so,” she answered nonchalantly. “But I’m not your therapist. You’re my brother, so I’m going to give you a piece of advice.” I squinted as I looked up at her as she stood over me with folded arms. I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my face. “Wake the fuck up, Jax. You never got over their deaths, especially Penny’s. You acted like a shithead while they were alive, and you’ve been tearing yourself up over it for the last ten years. You have to let it go and move on. You’ll never have a healthy relationship with Elyse unless you can forgive yourself. Stop blaming yourself for their deaths. Mom, dad and Penny wouldn’t want that for you! And while we’re on the topic, don’t you dare blame Elyse for what her mother did.” I made the mistake of confiding everything to my sister earlier, before the drinking commenced. My head was pounding as my sister scolded me. She’s a therapist and she’s my twin, but she has this uncanny ability to pull information and confessions in the most unsuspecting way. She manages her own practice in Manhattan, and it’s no wonder she’s doing so well for herself.

“Don’t pull that psychoanalyzing bullshit with me, sis.” I rubbed my head. “I’m not, but I’m not going to let you dig a deeper hole for yourself either.” She picked my head up and tucked a pillow beneath. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow when you’re feeling better. It’s useless trying to talk to you right now.” “I’m going to call her and bring her out here.” She’s always wanted to see California, and I had every intention of bringing her with me the next time I came out here. My fuzzy mind started thinking of all the carnal ways I could introduce her to the golden coast- but Piper interrupted my thoughts. “No. Do you think, after those things you said to her, she’ll just hop a plane and come to you like a pathetic puppy? You kept secrets from her, too. This is Elyse we’re talking about. I don’t know what she is to you, but I do like her so I’m confiscating your phone for the night before you do something stupid. Good night.” The room was suddenly dark as she flicked a switch and she left me on the sofa.

PIPER WAS MAKING eggs and bacon when I woke the next morning. I felt sick and there was a throbbing pulse in my head. “Hey booze boy,” she greeted from the stove. My entire kitchen was recently updated with top of the line appliances, which only complimented the modern, masculine design that flowed from room to room in my beach front property. My sister was still in her pajamas and her chestnut hair was pulled back into a tiny, messy bun at the nape of her neck. She slid a plate of eggs, bacon and toast over to me. “Eat up.” We’ve always had a close bond, having a five-minute difference in age, but our bond became tighter when the rest of our family passed. We spent the next several years taking turns caring for each other. After my parents passed my aunt came to live with us in New Rochelle until we turned eighteen. My dad encouraged me to paint as long as I put business first, but my parents had been much more liberal than the circles they mingled with. My aunt wasn’t as open to Piper’s sexual orientation as my parents had been, and Piper came to me crying more than once at the choice things my aunt had to say about her. I hurt Penny’s feelings too many times while she was still living, but I could still keep Piper safe. I became overprotective of my sister’s feelings and myself for that matter. My need for control grew into something intense. My aunt became afraid of me, and when Piper left for Princeton the following fall, my aunt moved out of the house, and I went to go work for my Uncle James in the city. Now my thoughts are rambling. I watched my sister as she quietly filled her own plate, and she looked at me through the thin frames on her face before she handed me a tall glass of water. We ate in silence, sitting across from one another at the breakfast bar. “I have to head back to New York this afternoon,” she said once our plates were nearly clean. “My clients need me bright and early in the morning. Are you returning with me?” “I’m thinking about moving out here permanently.” She gave me a dry look. “Most of your work is out east.” “I’m expanding to the west.” She closed her eyes for a moment, probably trying to collect her patience. “Can I ask a question?”

“No, but you will anyway.” “You knew for years what Elyse did. Why did you still pursue her?” I cracked my neck and stretched, flexing my muscles. “I don’t pursue women. You know that.” She snorted a laugh. “Yeah, okay. Then why did you form a relationship with Elyse, knowing everything you know?” I mentioned most things to Piper last night, but I left out what type of relationship I had with Elyse. “I was captivated with her.” “Why?” Piper looked at me directly as she sipped her orange juice. I’d been so angry the last few days and I had to force myself to go back to the beginning, to the reason why I wanted Elyse in the first place. Why? She represents everything that my sister wanted to accomplish, everything Penny would have done if she was still living. She made mistakes in the past, but so have I. We all make mistakes. She’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. After her friend, Jillian, married Mason, I started seeing Elyse more often. After the vandalism of my car, I kept tabs on her and checked in with Doris about how she was doing. I followed the projects and efforts she made with the kids at the center. The few times I met with Doris, when Elyse wasn’t aware, I saw how those kids idolized her and related to her. She closed herself off to me and I assumed it was because she knew what she’d done to my car, but I saw her true nature when she thought I wasn’t watching. I had no idea that it was her mother who was behind the wheel, the one who killed my parents and sister. All my thoughts became verbal as I spoke exactly what I was thinking. “So you blame Elyse for what happened to mom, dad, and Penny? It’s no wonder she didn’t confide in you.” I clenched the fork in my hand as I grit my teeth. “You’re a great guy, Jax, but you still have this unbelievable sense of entitlement sometimes. Where was Elyse when the accident happened? Was she driving the car?” My sister gave me a sideways glare as she washed the pan in the kitchen sink. “They were my parents and sister, too. I don’t blame her for what happened. Am I shocked? Yes, but none of that was within her control.” “No, it was within my control. I’m the one who gave everyone shit about my big art show.” I raked a hand through my disheveled hair. “I don’t blame her for what happened. I’m angry that she didn’t talk to me, that she was going to manipulate money out of me to keep the secret from me.” After setting the pan to dry, she returned to breakfast bar and there was silence between us. “You miss her,” she commented. I nodded. “I do.” “Why?” Why? So many reasons flooded my mind. I thought about Elyse and my chest clenched fiercely, wishing I was at her side. Why do I miss her? “She’s passionate, intelligent, and stubborn as a bull, but I can live with that…” I stopped myself when I realized what I’d just said. I described all the reasons why I wanted Elyse, but my voice choked when I came to that last part. I can live with that…? What the fuck? Piper gave a small, amused smile as she set her glass of juice on the breakfast bar. “You’re in love with her. How long have you been in love?” I groaned. “Piper, don’t start.” I didn’t want to admit that my heart swelled when she stated that. Just like a goddamn pussy. “I’m serious. I’ve seen how you look at her. You’ve never looked at a woman the way you look at her.

You just stated all the reasons why you want her, and none of the reasons why you shouldn’t be with her. It came out of your mouth so easily, so unrehearsed.” She grinned slightly. “I can’t blame you. I’d do her. She’s hot, and she puts up with your ass.” I snarled and threw the crust of my toast at her. She laughed and threw it at my face. I smirked, but it faded quickly when I remembered the reason why I was angry. “I’m not angry about my car,” I spoke honestly. “I forgave her and was happy when she started volunteering again, when she got her life back on track. I’m angry that she was planning to weasel five grand from me, and lied about why she needed the money. She was willing to do whatever it took so that I wouldn’t know the truth, using my own money to keep me out of the loop. She proved that she never trusted me.” My sister frowned as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. I knew she could understand my point. “I think she was afraid of losing you.” “She was right.” “No she wasn’t, and maybe you need to prove her wrong.” Piper’s raised a single eyebrow at me. “You and I don’t know what it’s like to grow up in a rough neighborhood, to be rejected by mom when we were little and jump from house to house, bouncing around in different schools… put yourself in her shoes for one second. You’re probably one of the best things that ever happened to her. If I found someone as devoted to me as you were to her, I’d be afraid of losing that person.” “Stop making excuses for her,” I mumbled. “I'm not making excuses for her, Jax. I’m trying to give you food for thought. She should have come to you and it was a lesson learned for both of you, I think. When did she come for the money?” I had picked up my glass of water, but held it mid-air. “She never came for the money. She came to tell me the truth instead but it was too late…” She frowned, looking at me. “She never took the money, and you say she was going to tell you the truth?” She gave me an incredulous look. Go ahead and say it, Piper. I’m a prick. “Jax, don’t take this personally, but you’re a fucking idiot. Why are you still sitting here?” She’s right. I needed to see her. The things I said the other night can’t be easily reversed, but I have so much more to say. I tried to call her, but my call immediately went to voicemail, which was full and couldn’t take anymore messages. The more I thought about my sister’s words, the more it became fucking clear: I really did love Elyse, and I loved her with everything I had in me. I think that’s why I was so angry when she almost went behind my back. I protected her. I wanted what was best for her. I wanted to hold her and kiss away her tears, fuck every bad memory out of her. I wanted to mark her, claim her, and own her. I wanted to collar her as mine. Permanently.

AS I SAT WITH Piper on the private plane, I tried calling Elyse a few more times, but the calls continued to go directly to her full voicemail. I assumed she was rejecting my calls. I decided as soon as I landed at JFK, I would take a cab straight to the hotel. As soon as I stepped foot on the ground in the airport, I called Elyse one last time, but she still refused to accept my calls. I thought about texting her, but I wanted her to hear my voice. It was late in the afternoon when Piper and I arrived in New York, so I decided to call Mason, who

also didn’t answer the phone. Why isn’t anyone answering their phones? I finally called Jillian, and she picked up after the first ring. Thank God. Finally. “Hello?” She asked. There was something off in her usual soft voice. “Hi Jill, it’s Jax. I tried calling your husband but he didn’t answer. Is Elyse with you?” That has to be the most random question ever. “Um, yes. I’m with her now.” She answered hesitantly. “Good, I’m heading over there now.” “Y-you are? Okay. We’re not at New York Presbyterian Hospital. We’re at New York Liberty Hospital. Do you know how to get here?” What the fuck?! I repeated such thoughts verbally. “I thought Mason called you,” Jill answered but her voice was starting to cut out, probably because she’s in a hospital. She was explaining something about being with Elyse in the hospital, but the service was so choppy, I couldn’t make out a damn thing that was said, and then the call dropped. My heart rate escalated as I tried to call Jill back, but there was no answer. “Fuck!” I hissed. “What? What’s wrong?” Piper asked. “I don’t have a damn clue. They’re with Elyse in the hospital, but it’s all the way up by Catskill.” I was trying to sort my thoughts as I dialed every number I could think to dial, trying to get information. “Calm down, Jax, we’ll head over there-” “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!” I snapped, and it was enough to make the cab driver jolt in his seat. “Take us to the New York Liberty Hospital. NOW.” Elyse. All I could think about was Elyse. The worst thoughts imaginable played through my mind. Something happened to her and I wasn’t there for her… I tried another round of calls in my contact list, even dialed Zara, but nobody answered. I felt a weakness consume me and I bit my tongue, hard, trying to suppress the feeling that was clawing at my heart. There was a lump in my throat, and for the first time in over ten years, I was terrified. Elyse. My sweet Elyse. I thought about Penny, and my parents and the last time I’d seen them. I took them for granted, thinking I could always make it up to them. I thought I could just apologize later. It never happened. Why can’t I just learn my lesson?



I SAT BESIDE JILL as I played with my cell phone. Every now and then I wiped at a stray tear that crept down my cheek. The television in the hospital’s waiting room played reruns of sitcoms, but I wasn’t paying attention to the screen. Cee and Val were on my mind as I turned my blank cell phone over and over in my hands. It died hours ago, and in my hurry to get to the hospital, I didn’t think to grab my cell phone charger before I left with Jill and Mason. I still fumbled with it as though I was silently willing it to come back to life. I stared at the black screen, remembering the phone call I had this time last night with my dad. I had been in the kitchen with Jill, eating ice cream. “My dad only calls me if there’s a birthday or if he wants a babysitter. I don’t feel like anything more than a neighbor or a family friend.” Jill balanced her sleeping baby on her lap as she spooned some chocolate ice cream into her mouth. I watched her, waiting for that chocolate to slip off the spoon and plop into her baby’s soft black hair. “I think your dad uses the babysitting thing as an excuse to call you.” She said as she expertly spooned the dessert into her mouth. “Really?” I scrunched my nose as I took a big spoonful of ice cream. “Yeah. When he calls you, it always seems like he wants to say more, but then things get awkward and you both say goodbye and hang up.” I shrugged. “He could just call me and invite me to lunch or something, just the two of us. It’s not that hard.” “Good point. I think if you called him and told him you wanted to have lunch with him, he wouldn’t turn it down. Maybe he needs a little help. He started with Valentina and Celia when they were newborns, and then all of a sudden this twenty-something woman shows up on his doorstep. There’s no denying that he accepted you and I think he loves you. Maybe he’s just trying to figure out how to be a first time dad to someone who’s already an adult.” Oh, Jill. The eternal optimist. She never fails to see the good in people. “You know what? I’m going to try your advice.” I picked up the phone. After my last encounter with Jackson, I felt numb to anymore potential rejection. My heart was beyond repair at this point, but Jillian has been my rock the past few days. I started dialing my dad’s number, but his name suddenly lit up the screen. “Wow. That’s a weird coincidence. Yes, dad. I’ll babysit.” I answered the question before I accepted the call. “Hello?” “Hi, Elyse.” “Hi, dad.” I waited to hear the next thing out of his mouth, which was probably the million-dollar

question, can I babysit this weekend? “Sarah and I were talking this afternoon and we decided to rent a cabin by the lake for a few days. Can you join us? It will just be the five of us.” This threw me. It shouldn’t have surprised me because I did go on vacation with them to Florida a couple of years ago. “Really?” I blurted. “Yeah it’s spontaneous, I know… we’re surprising the girls.” “I’d love to.” After the last few days, I really needed this. A few days by a lake cabin with my family sign me up. “That’s great!” My dad was really happy to hear this. “I remembered you said you wished you could have gone camping as a kid. I wish I could surprise you too, but that’s not easy to do with your schedule.” For the first time in a week, I was smiling from ear to ear and the throbbing ache in my heart lessened just a little bit. I made plans with my dad and Sarah to take a bus. Dad would pick me up from the nearest station. I’d spend three days at the lake with them, eating s’mores, hiking, and enjoying the outdoors. The weather for the weekend was going to be beautiful. They planned to leave early tomorrow morning, but I was already committed to the summer barbeque at the youth center. We host one every year for the kids and their families, now that we get extra funding from The Penny Jane Foundation. I planned to take a bus as soon as the barbeque was over, but Mason rejected that notion when he overheard my phone conversation, and insisted I’d take a town car instead. I was too exhausted to argue and the man is hellbent on having his own way if he thinks his idea is safer, so that was added to the plan. The summer barbeque was a huge success, just like it has been every year. It’s one of our best ways of connecting with families, and Jillian brought way too many fancy cupcakes. Those were a big hit with everyone. Even though the barbeque was a lot of fun and a lot of work, I still wished I could have gone in the car with my dad, sisters, and Sarah. And every now and then as I tried to set up a table or direct other staff where to put the food, an intrusive thought invaded my mind. You’re nothing but a challenge, a distraction. His words and that malicious sneer remained imprinted in my mind, and sent a sharp pang to my heart. “Elyse, where should I put the extra folding chairs?” A fellow volunteer asked me. “Um.” I never considered you a gold-digging whore. God, those words hurt. I was momentarily thrown off-course. I recalled that condescending once-over he gave me. I tried to push Jax away from my mind, but that was easier said than done. My heart was so broken. I really needed these three days by the lake with my family. I just needed to breathe. “Put the extra chairs by the wall, please. We can grab them if we need more later.” I directed. The volunteer nodded and walked away. My phone began ringing, and I looked at the screen, confused when I saw an unfamiliar number. “Weird,” I mumbled to myself, but I answered it. “Hello?” “Ms. Elyse Mendez?” “Yeah?” I raised a brow, slightly worried. “I’m Francine Burrows, a nurse at New York Liberty Hospital. I’m calling because you are listed as Carlos Vicente’s next of kin on his identification…” The blood drained from my face and my knuckles went weak. “Yes, I’m his daughter,” I squeaked. I saw Jillian approach me from across the lot and she suddenly looked at me with concern. “Ms. Mendez, Carlos Vicente was in a car accident with his wife and two daughters. Currently all four patients remain critical in our care in the emergency unit.”

A hand clamped over my mouth, shaking. “Oh my God. Are they okay? The girls, are they going to be okay? My dad…what about Sarah?” My whole body was visibly shaking. I could tell because Jill came over and wrapped her arms around me and I could feel myself vibrate against her embrace. The nurse didn’t answer my question. She only stated, “We might have to send your sisters to our local children's hospital. We’re monitoring all four for any hemorrhaging and swelling, especially on the brain.” The panic struck me even more when I heard the nurse say that last part. The remainder of the conversation was a blur, and I honestly can’t remember what was said. I was desperately trying to process that phone call, but I left the youth center with Jillian in tow. She called Mason, and told him what happened. Valentina and Celia plagued my mind, and during the car ride, I couldn’t stop thinking about when I last spent quality time with them- it was the day Jackson took us all to the Music and Arts Festival in Nyack and spoiled them rotten. That’s when I crumpled in the backseat of the car.

I FLIPPED MY THOUGHTS back to the present as I continued to idly fumble with my dead cell phone. Mason glanced over at me with concern etched on his face. “Do you want me to see about getting you another charger?” I gave him a small smile, and I was about to turn down his offer, but thought better of it. A nurse suddenly appeared and approached us. “Ms. Elyse Mendez?” She asked in a kind and soft voice. “Yes,” I lept from the chair, hoping she had good news. I said a silent prayer in the few seconds it took to approach her. Jill and Mason were right behind me. “Celia and Valentina are having tests run as we speak, to ensure there is no internal bleeding. Their CT scans came back and indicate no swelling, but Celia does have a concussion and suffered a fracture in her right wrist.” I pursed my lips as I listened intently. I think time paused as I waited with baited breath for more news. “Valentina has some bruises and scrapes, but appears to be fine otherwise. We’re going to hold her overnight to monitor her.” “Oh thank God,” I let out a breath and felt Jillian’s hand on my back. “Sarah is still unconscious. She has a concussion and some bruised ribs, but she is otherwise stable. We’ll have to hold her for a few days.” “Your father has a lacerated liver and remains unconscious. He has two broken ribs, and a collapsed lung…” “Are they going to be okay?” I had to ask the question. “We can remain optimistic. We’re keeping your family closely monitored, but Celia and Valentina have been admitted into rooms in the pediatric ward. Your father and Sarah are in the intensive care unit.” The nurse continued speaking, and I was desperately trying to keep up. My head was spinning, my mind struggling to process everything. “When can I see them?” I blurted as the nurse was mid-sentence. “The girls should be returning from radiology soon and I will let you know when you can visit.” The nurse finished speaking and dismissed herself. I was in a fog, trying to sort everything out. I don’t even remember the last half of what she said or when she left. I just remember that I suddenly realized she

wasn’t there anymore, and when I looked up, Mason was gone too. “Where’s Mason?” “He went to get us some coffee and call my brother. Travis is watching Julia.” Jillian answered. I thought to ask someone to call Jackson, but shook the thought from my mind. He’s so angry. He hates me. The things he said the other night pierced through me. “Thank you for being here, for everything.” I gripped Jill’s hand fiercely. She squeezed back. “You’d do the same for me.” I nodded. In a heartbeat… Mason returned with coffee from the vending machine for me and Jillian. I took a sip and blanched. The taste was bitter and watery, but I continued to take small sips like it was an addiction. I was desperate for anything that would distract me from my plaguing thoughts. The memories of Jackson crashed down like a torrent, mixed with everything I was still trying to process from today. Waiting for news about my family, while involuntarily reliving the moments with Jackson left me crushed. I shuddered. The television continued to serve as background noise, and I continued to think about him. I still wondered if he knew about my family, if Mason or Jill might have called him while I slipped away to the bathroom. I looked down at my phone, wishing I could pick call him. The last thing I heard about him, he was in Malibu, living it up. Maybe he’s already found someone to replace me. I don’t know. I stood quietly. “I’m going to get a snack from the vending machine. Do you want anything?” “I’ll get it,” Mason offered but I shook my head. “I need to walk and stretch my legs.” Still in a daze, I left the waiting room and rounded the corner down the hall. I stared at the vending machine. Nothing seemed appealing, and I zoned out as I stared at the selection. Instead, I looked at my faint reflection against the plexiglass of the snack machine. I saw a blank, pale stare looking back at me. A tall, muscular figure suddenly appeared behind my reflection. I saw only broad shoulders and a toned chest, but I recognized that body. I had it memorized by sight, smell and feel. The spicy cologne was so faint, but it was there, and I truly believed I imagined all of this. The blurred image behind me was only a figment of my imagination, my own wishful thinking. But then large hands gripped me by my hips, spun me around and plastered me against the machine. It jolted against me as I was pinned to it, and I looked up to see his face looking down at me. There was nothing carnal or hungry, and the angry sneer I saw on his face last week was replaced with an expression of deep concern, maybe even fear. His hands gripped my face in the most tender, affectionate way and his fingers caressed my cheek where my tears had dried. He had week-old scruff, like he forgot to shave for the last seven days and even through that navy hoodie, I could see the perfect definition of muscle. His hands remained on my face as he studied me. Then he suddenly wrapped those arms around me so tightly the air was constricted from my chest. “I thought I lost you,” his voice was ragged and hoarse. “I’m here,” I answered within his overpowering embrace, despite the fact that I could barely breathe. I felt the lump form in my throat. Feeling his arms around my body brought back so many emotions. Before I could allow myself to get lost in his embrace, I had to speak my mind. I had to say what I should have said when he confronted me in the hotel. I pulled away and let out a deep breath. “Jackson, I was wrong to keep those secrets from you. I was wrong for that, but you kept things from me, too. You showed me that I had every good reason to keep the truth from you. You gave me chances to talk to you? About what? Why didn’t you come to me, instead of trying to coax an answer from me? I think you know that I never would have taken that money. You know I’d gone to the club to come clean.” I had a hand on my hip, and jabbed him in the chest with my pointer

finger. The more I spoke, the more fiery I felt. There were hardly any people in the hall, but I still hissed with a hushed voice. He glanced down at my finger as it poked his solid chest, then looked me in the eyes. “I was a nine year old girl sitting in a foster home when that accident happened. I’ve been embarrassed and ashamed of that, of where I came from, but I’m tired of feeling that way. But, I really am sorry I scratched-” He pulled me in, and wrapped his arms around me again. He held me as though he had no fear of crushing me. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I said those things in anger. I was drunk. I didn’t mean any of it.” I didn’t lift my face from his chest, but after a few moments I looked up. “You did mean it, Jax. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have run off to California.” I had so much to say and contemplated where to begin. I brushed the remaining tears away and looked up at him. His green eyes were on me, his brow furrowed. “I did mean it last week when I was angry, but you are so much more than a challenge or a distraction. Yes, when I first met you, I liked your fire. I enjoyed the way you looked at me when you weren’t avoiding me.” His hand caressed my cheek, and brushed some damp strands of hair away, tucking them behind my ear. We held one another for what felt like hours. He stroked my hair as his arms remained snaked around me tightly, like a constrictor. For that single moment, I felt safe, like nothing bad could possibly happen. Feeling his hands in my hair so attentively triggered the emotions all over again. Growing up, there were tons of times when I should’ve cried, but I bit my tongue and forced myself to not let the tears escape. I learned how to put on the mask, a facade that told people I was stronger than I really felt. Jax managed to strip me bare, and as he held me in such an authoritative yet tender embrace, I lost control. I’ve shed so many tears in the last week, and they poured again as he kept me in that strong embrace. Years of pent-up tears streamed down my face, and the front of his hoodie was thoroughly damp but he continued to hold me and caress my hair. “Jax, I-” “Ms. Mendez, your sisters are awake and can see you now. You can head over to the pediatric unit and the front desk will tell you the room number.” The nurse interrupted our moment, but I didn’t mind. I needed to see the girls. A huge sense of pure bliss and relief washed over me. “We will notify you with updates about your father and stepmother.” “Thank you.” Jax squeezed my hand and pulled me toward the pediatric ward, stopping momentarily to follow the signs. He wanted to lead the way, and I let him. We still had so much to talk about, but right now, it just felt so good and so complete to have him here.



EVERYTHING WAS CLEARLY written all over her face. Her skin lacked its usual glow and her eyes were wide, desperate. I should have been here all along. I barely remembered the situation with the money. I could only think of the here and now: Elyse. She needed me to be strong. I took her hand in a gentle, but firm grasp and led her through the hospital corridors. “Can I help you?” A nurse asked as I approached the front desk on the pediatric floor. “Yes, you can. I’m looking for Celia and Valentina Vicente. They were in a car accident this morning and have just been admitted to this floor.” I didn’t realize I carried my business tone until I noticed the nurse’s eyebrow twitch in reaction. “Oh, well yes. Can I ask your name?” She asked and I noted a hint of flush creep up her cheeks. “Jackson Rochester. Pleased to meet you.” I flashed her my million dollar smile. “This is Elyse, their sister.” The flush grew deeper. “Oh, well then… just sign in here,” she handed me a clipboard. “Visiting hours will close in half an hour-” “I’m sure nobody will notice if we stay a little bit longer, am I right?” I gave her another wide grin and her lips twitched upwards into a small smile. “Just stay quiet,” she whispered and I gave her a wink as she handed us the visitor passes. “They’re in room three-twelve,” she said, giving me most of her attention, and then she passed a small smile to Elyse, who remained unusually quiet and aloof. After thanking the nurse, I pulled Elyse by the hand and followed the arrows which indicated where to find which room numbers. We walked a short distance until we arrived at an open door. The room was dimly lit and Elyse tugged on my hand, stopping us just outside the room. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. I heard the steady beep of hospital equipment as I waited for Elyse. Then her blue eyes opened and her expression was stoic, but the glassy look in her eyes was long gone and she gripped my hand as she entered the room. “Lissie?” Valentina’s weak voice was still heavy with sleep, but she blinked her eyes when she saw us enter. “Mr. Jackson.” She held her hand out, and Elyse took her hand and kissed it. “Don’t cry, Lissie. We’ll be okay.” Her face was bruised and scraped, and she didn’t move her head from the pillow as she looked up at us. I spotted little Celia asleep in the bed by the window and silently studied the results on the machines. Her heart rate and blood pressure was fine, but her face was badly bruised and a cast was wrapped around her wrist. An IV was in the other arm. I closed my eyes, feeling the struggle as inner demons tried to consume me. I couldn’t lose it. Hold it

the fuck together, I growled internally. Elyse was standing beside Celia’s bed and every emotion remained etched on her beautiful face. “She just fell asleep. She woke up for a few minutes. Don’t worry. I’m watching over her.” Valentina tried to assure us. She’s a good kid. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mr. Jackson.” Val held her hand out to me and I took it. “Anything for you, little lady.” I forced a smile and Elyse sat in the chair distractedly. Valentina was exhausted, and it took all of ten minutes for her to fall asleep again. I didn’t say anything to Elyse, who remained seated in the chair, staring off into space. After waiting for several minutes, I tapped her shoulder which jolted her from the fog she’d been sitting in. “Let’s go. You need to get some rest. I’ll bring you back in the morning.” She said nothing as I took her hand and led her out of the hospital room.

AFTER WE FINISHED visiting with her sisters, I brought her to a hotel and rented a room. Compared to rooms I usually stay in, this one was very basic and simple, but I could see how Elyse’s eyes widened when she entered. She exhaled as I opened the door for her to enter and she looked around. She turned and looked up at me; the emotions were so easy to read all over her face. She remained a continuous open book for me to read. “Jackson, I’m so sorry I lied to you,” she whispered. I kissed her forehead and caressed her face in soft, circular motions with my thumb as I held her gaze to mine. “Let’s talk about it in the morning when you’re feeling better.” I couldn’t find the fucking words to explain what I wanted to say. She looked up at me, conflicted and confused as she pondered to herself. I wanted to apologize again for the cruel things I’d said to her that night, but I didn’t want to bring back the memory either. I had no words for what I’d done, or how I handled the situation. There is nothing I can say to take back those words, or elaborate how much this woman fucking means to me. I could only show her. I didn’t say anything as I took her hand and led her into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, and adjusted the temperature. She was unusually quiet, looking exhausted, rigid, and contemplative. The glass vanity and sliding shower doors fogged up with steam. “Feels good,” Elyse mumbled, and I only gave a half smirk. “We’re not even in the water yet.” She forced a stiff smile, but she allowed me to undress her. I worked slowly, as though I was savoring the wrapping paper on a precious gift. With care, I pulled the cotton shirt over her shoulders. Her skin was warm to my touch as my fingers grazed along her shoulder blades as I undressed her. My cock was already standing at attention from the fucking gorgeous sight in front of me. Down boy, I scolded myself. I wasn’t looking to score. I was aiming to give Elyse what she needed, to show her without words exactly what she means to me. She stood naked before me. Her blue eyes looked up to me, conflicted and searching. Gently, I took her hand and led her into the steamy shower. The warm water splashed off her tits and luscious hips. I positioned myself behind her, with my cock pressing against her lower back as I tenderly massaged her shoulders. My lips lapped and nipped at the soft skin of her neck as my hands worked the muscles in her shoulders and arms. Her body melded against mine, pressing more firmly against my eager cock. Her

muscles began to relax as my fingers trailed along her collarbone, pulling her damp hair out of the way. I devoured her neck, feeling tension wash away as her body melted against mine. Finally, she let out a shuddering breath. “Jax, I don’t want your pity… is that why you came tonight?” My hands stopped mid-massage and I turned her to face me. “No, Elyse. Have I ever pitied you? I was already on my way to you when I learned you were at the hospital. I didn’t know why, but all I could think was that I should have told you a long time ago.” I watched the water droplets run down her face as she looked up at me. She was quiet for a few minutes and then finally asked, “Tell me what?” Fuck. How do I say it? Three little words weren’t so simple. I didn’t want them to sound simple. I just stared down at her like an idiot. I love you… No, I’m fucking in love with you… Nothing seemed adequate. This wasn’t the time or the place, either and I had zero experience saying anything remotely similar to any woman before. Should I take her to a tropical island and shower her with flowers and chocolates? How the fuck am I supposed to do this? I shook my head, resolving that now was not the time or the place. “You’re amazing. That’s all.” I said bluntly and kissed her lips with a deep hunger that was building within me. She returned the kiss, pulling on my lower lip and we both smiled between our heated shower makeout session. I pinned her against the shower wall, devouring her mouth. Tongues danced together, intertwining. The longer this continued, the harder it was to contain those words. They needed to be said at a time when they didn’t seem so rash, or in the heat of the moment. I pulled away and kissed her forehead and her nose and she let out soft sigh. I shut off the water when the temperature started dropping. I pulled a towel from the rack and wrapped her in it, nipping at her earlobe and neck as I did. “I never would’ve taken your money,” she blurted randomly with my lips on her ear. I stopped and sighed inwardly. “I know, baby-” “No, I don’t think you do know, not really.” Her tone wasn’t argumentative, but she was serious. I groaned to myself, hoping to give her a more relaxing evening, but she wasn’t going to give this up. I secured a towel around my waist, and I watched her eyes move up and down my damp torso. I wasn’t about to have this discussion in the nude. She stood there, wrapped in only a towel, studying me. “I knew Shana from my old days. We were roommates for a while. I didn’t know she worked for you at the club, and when I ran into her a few weeks ago, she tried to blackmail me. She wanted five thousand for her silence, and the guilt was already eating at me so badly.” I narrowed my eyes as I tried to piece all of this together. “Guilt? Why did you feel guilty, Elyse? The car?” “That Maserati,” she shook her head in a defeated state. “I had so much anger and I thought the car belonged to Chance Tanner, but that didn’t make it right. The more I fell in love with you, the more it ate at me.” She took in a deep breath, and continued, but I was hung up on the last part of what she said. The more I fell in love with you… “... At first I was afraid you would charge me with fines if you found out. And then, I was more scared that I’d lose you. Nobody did anything nice for me while I was growing up and if they did, it’s because I owed them a favor. In my mind, if you found out, I thought it would be over. I took a huge leap when I became your submissive, and that’s because I convinced myself you didn’t have to know the truth. It was wrong, I know that now.” The more I fell in love with you… Those words still rang in my ears and I wanted to stop her right

there and dwell on that part of the conversation, but as I listened to her I could tell she didn’t even realize she’d said it. She continued spilling, because talking about this was therapeutic for her, and that’s what she fucking needed right now. I wrapped my arms around her and let her talk until there was silence between us. “I just wanted you to accept me for me, flaws and all. Shana kept pestering me for the money, saying she’d go to you with the video. I called you to borrow the money. I lied about why I needed it, but I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t live with this weight on my chest, knowing I was keeping the secret from you. So I went to the club to tell you everything, but it was too late.” She looked up at me with glossy eyes, wondering if I’d snap again. Seeing her look at me like that gutted me. “I was never angry with you about the Maserati, Elyse. You’re too hard on yourself about that. Sure, it was a shitty thing to do, but that wasn’t you. I know the woman you are,” I tilted her chin up to look at me. “I know you are a passionate, loyal, caring woman…that bullheaded girl who wrote to my firm asking for help-” Her mouth dropped open and it matched the roundness of her eyes. “You knew? You knew about my letter?” “I’ve always known about the letter, but my point is that I wasn’t angry about the car. I was angry that you tried to go behind my back, attempting to use my own money to withhold secrets from me. You claimed you trusted me, and sneaking behind me as you tried to do is what made me furious.” She inhaled and exhaled deeply. “You kept secrets from me, too. You never told me that you knew who scratched your car. You never told me. You let me stress and worry.” Her jaw was set firmly and her eyes held a fire in them as she spoke. I looked at her, carefully choosing my words. If we were going to have this conversation, I was going to speak truthfully. “When I first laid eyes on you, I wanted you as a distraction. I didn’t want to think about my sister, Penny, or my parents or that I was the reason they’re not here anymore. They were on their way to my art show when they got in the accident...” She tensed visibly when I mentioned that last part. Saying this was goddamn hard and I felt my chest constricting as I spoke. She was about to say something about the accident, but I cut her off before she could speak. “So yes, I did once think of you that way. I did think of you as a challenge. I don’t think I was the same man then that I am now.” I held her tightly, pressing her body to me so completely that I had to stop and remember to let her breathe. “I’m sorry.” She was very silent, not saying a word for what felt like an eternity. She finally spoke, but her words were soft and slow. “If you knew all along, what I did to your car, why didn’t you say anything?” “How do you think you would have reacted if I called you out for that mistake?” I answered her question with one of my own. It would have been fucking pointless to bring it up to her, especially since I was able to easily repair the damages. In my opinion, it was a moot point. It would have made things between us uncomfortable and stiff. She’d have pulled away even more than she already did if I randomly mentioned it. Instead, I waited for her confession. She claimed she trusted me, and telling me the truth would have been the ultimate proof. She had to come to me on her own. That’s exactly what I told her as I held her. We lay in the bed and I stroked her hair, tucking it behind her ear. She frowned to herself, and I could see the wheels spinning in her mind. “I want you to trust me,” I said, tilting her chin up so that her gaze met my own. “And I want you to trust me.” She affirmed. “Let’s make a promise right now- that we’ll always be honest with each other.”

“Promise me that you’ll come to me when you need anything from now on,” I said with a stern yet tender note in my voice. She nodded. “I promise.” “Good, and I vow the same.” I brought her lips to mine and devoured them, enjoying the way her tongue lapped and caressed my bottom lip. Once her family was recovered, I had something important to show her, but for now…we had some making up to do. I caressed the side of her face in soft, slow circles, kissing her fiercely. I continued stroking her face, enjoying the soft silky feel of her skin beneath my fingers. After pulling her closely against me, her form molded against mine and she blinked up at me with a small smile on her lips. Jesus. I told myself to behave tonight out of sensitivity and respect for what she’s been through, but she’s making this damn near impossible. “If you keep that up, I won’t be able to control myself,” I warned softly as I pulled on her earlobe with my teeth. Her soft body was like warm velvet as she wriggled her way beneath mine. If she slid even half an inch further, I could easily slide my cock home where it belonged. I was already rock hard, pressed against her inner thigh. Her hands raked through my hair and her full lips nibbled on mine. Fuuuck… “It feels so good being with you like this, after the last few days…there’s nothing I need more.” Uh-huh. “Do you want to fuck me?” What the hell kind of question is that? I cleared my throat, and tried to swallow down the growing, uncontrollable hunger within me. “I want to make love to you. I want to lose myself in you and feel every inch of you, and make your toes curl against the bedspread.” Her breath hitched as she looked up at me. “I want that too. I need it.” She breathed as her fingernails scraped down my back. I didn’t respond with words, only with my lips as they trailed heat down her neck. My mouth locked around her breasts and pulled on the stiff, pink peaks as I kissed them the way I did her lips just moments earlier. Her nipples fit perfectly in my mouth and my tongue trailed circles around them just before tugging with my teeth, loving each pink bit, worshipping them. Her tits are perfect, just enough for one handful. Hell, everything about this woman is fucking perfect. I moved down, lower, lower, savoring every inch of her body as she breathed and moaned softly, especially when I bit and licked the inside of her thighs leading up to her wet heat. I was a goddamn caged animal as I smelled her arousal. I bit the inside of her thigh again and she gasped and parted her legs farther, a voluntary gesture welcoming me home. Slipping two fingers into her warm, wet folds, I reveled in the way she gasped and arched her back slightly off the mattress. It took everything I had not give in to the animal in me. My fingers massaged her clit, enjoying the look of pleasure on her face as I rubbed it with my fingers, teasing, nipping. She bit her lower lip, and squeezed her eyes shut as she let out breathy moans. My cock was ready to sink into that warm, wet tightness, to feel her wrap around me, clenching and milking every inch. Eyes on me, Elyse. I thought to say that command. But no, if she wants to close her eyes and focus on the pleasure I give her, let her. This is all about her. I forced her legs open and felt her thighs clench as I lowered my mouth and kissed her. My tongue ran up and down, massaging at a furious rate, and then moved in firm, slow circles around her clit. Her body began shuddering. I wanted to taste that honey and I was determined to bring her over the edge. After fucking her with my tongue at a frenzied pace, my mouth locked around her clit and I sucked until she couldn’t contain herself. She cried out, gasping, fingers curling around my hair, pulling as her thighs locked around my head.

“Oh God, Jackson! Oh please… stop- don’t… don’t stop…” she whimpered those sexy-as-fuck cries she let out every time an orgasm grips her body. I didn’t relent as I moved my body over hers and she gripped the sheets, eyes closed. She was still coming, her whole body trembling. She looked like an angel. My angel. The timing was perfect and I slammed into her while she was mid-orgasm. My angel let out another loud cry, which sounded more like a mewl. In powerful strokes, I nailed into her at a merciless pace, rocking my hips into hers, giving her stern, hard, calculated thrusts. Balls deep, I wanted to feel every inch of her insides, squeezing and clenching me. Her thighs locked around my torso, and that only encouraged me. I’ve never felt a pussy as exquisite as hers, but maybe that’s because I love this woman. Her whole body convulsed with another powerful orgasm several minutes later, and I felt my frame reverberate with a growl as I came. I didn’t pull out, I wanted her pussy to milk my cock. Every last drop. Even after we’d finished, I stayed inside her and she gripped me closer as I remained on top of her body. The closeness I felt with her was profound. The beauty of her flushed, pink face and heaving chest is something that is forever imprinted in my memory. I kissed the area between her breasts as her fingers played with my hair. “I could stay like this forever,” she whispered. Me too, Peach. Me too.



I THOUGHT I WAS dreaming when I woke the next morning. Warmth surrounded me as I remained in a foggy, sleep-like state. Tattooed biceps held me close, wrapped around me like a blanket in a very protective, possessive way. My backside was pressed firmly against the hard, yet smooth contours of perfect definition. I didn’t want to move; I wanted to enjoy this dream, and the feel of these powerful muscles holding me so closely. As my mind transitioned from sleep to reality, the events of last night came back to me. The car accident. My family. Jackson. Jackson. The shower. The sex…oh, the sex… I didn’t have time to smile to myself as I thought about our reconciliation, our talk and our forgiveness, although my heart swelled for a split second before I heard Jackson’s phone vibrate from the table next to the bed. I remembered mine was dead and my charger was still in Manhattan. The call went to his voicemail and his phone immediately began vibrating again. He growled and reached for the phone, still half asleep. “Jackson speaking,” he answered in his crisp, professional tone, like he hadn’t been sleeping two seconds ago. He listened, and then glanced up at me as I sat in the bed beside him. “Of course. She’s right here.” He handed me the phone and I took it from him as he mouthed to me, “HOSPITAL.” My eyes widened, hoping it was good news. “H-hello? This is Elyse Mendez.” I glanced at Jackson, who’d already slid out of bed. The hospital had called his phone since mine was dead, but they had good news. My dad and stepmom were awake, and my dad was asking for me. My heart was beating profusely in my chest – I was so happy I could burst. We wasted no time getting ready, and I wanted to head straight to the hospital, but Jackson stopped in front of a tiny deli and got us bagels and orange juice, which we ate on the way over there. He said I probably wanted to spend the whole day visiting with my family, and he was right, so I should eat something now. He’s so thoughtful. He thinks of everything. Our hands remained firmly clasped as I led him through the hospital, toward the room where my dad had been assigned. As we reached the room my nerves consumed me and I stopped short. Jackson quietly put a hand on my back, gently coaxing me to step in. “I’ll be in the waiting room. I’m not going to meet your father for the first time this way. It’s a matter of respect and privacy.” He stated calmly, but firmly. As I stared up into his green eyes, I got the courage to step into the room. It’s not that I was afraid of my father’s condition, it’s that I’ve never seen him like this before. He was always estranged- the man who was partially responsible for my existence, yet didn’t raise me. The man who gave me two little

sisters whom I adore, but never spent quality time with me, his first born. I didn’t know what to say, or if I should say anything. Should I just sit with him and ask him how his hospital stay was going? I chewed on my lower lip as I entered the room, ignoring the equipment that beeped in the background. His bed was next to the window and he was watching reruns of an old sitcom on the small television that was mounted on the wall. He immediately noticed me and I tried to hide the wince I felt internally when I saw him. His face was bruised and covered with bandages. His nose was broken and I think he was lucky to even be awake. “Hi sweetie,” he greeted me, but his speech was slurred from the injuries on his face. “Hey dad,” I said softly. He reached a hand out and I took it as I sat in the chair beside his bed. We sat in silence for a few minutes; I didn’t say anything right away because I didn’t want him to strain himself and honestly, I didn’t know what to say. “I’m so glad you weren’t in the car,” he finally spoke. “You’re here, safe.” My lower lip trembled, but I forced myself to keep a straight face as he weakly clenched my hand. I could see that the IV was still in his other hand. “Did the doctors tell you anything?” I asked. “This will heal,” he answered, pointing to his face. “No internal bleeding, nothing terrible.” I faked a smile, wondering if he looked worse than he felt. “You don’t have to talk if it hurts, dad.” “No, I want to talk to you. When I get out of here, I want us to do something, just us.” “Okay, we can do lunch or something.” He responded with a weak smile, but squeezed my hand as best as he could. “Te amo, mi vida,” he said hoarsely. “I love you. You’re my life. I’m sorry I never said it until now, but when I thought I might not get to tell you, I was afraid.” I blinked profusely, forcing myself to not leak any tears. My dad held my hand even tighter, pulling me closer to him. “I promised never again. I get scared a lot, wondering how I can be a father to you. I wonder how I can make up for all the lost years your mother told you lies.” Shit. That’s it. I lost it. The tears fell from my eyes and I clenched my dad’s hand gently. “I love you too, dad.” I sniffled. “I’m sorry…” I looked away and struggled to wipe my eyes. “Don’t be sorry. Tears aren’t a sign of weakness, Lissie.” “You don’t have to think about making up for lost years. I just need you now. I have you now.” I smiled weakly. I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with my father, but my heart melted into a puddle. I never imagined we’d have this talk, but I was so happy we were. He pulled my hand to his bedside again. “I promise you I will be a father to you. I don’t care if you’re eighty.” I let out a short laugh when he said this. We didn’t say much after that, because I could tell his talking was causing more pain, but I sat with him for a very long time and watched television with him. Then he fell asleep and I switched off the light by his hospital bed. I caught the nurse as she passed, on her way to check his vitals. “Oh hi, can you tell my dad that I will be back to see him later? I just want him to rest,” I whispered softly as I pointed to his bed. She smiled and nodded. “Of course, dear. He’s such a nice man, your dad. He’s one of our best patients.” I smiled as she told me this. “How is he?” “We’re going to keep him for a few more days just to monitor him. I’m about to give him another dose of morphine for his ribs, and he’ll have to take it easy for about six weeks, but the doctor said he’s very lucky.”

What a huge relief! “Thank you so much.” I gave a genuinely appreciative smile to the nurse and she returned the smile before she continued toward my dad’s bedside.

“MR. JACKSON!” My sisters were both sitting up in their beds when we entered their room. I was so happy to see them smiling, actually sitting up, that I almost cried- again. But instead, I smiled. While I was sitting with my dad in his room, Jackson had slipped out to a local grocery store and picked up a few things for the girls. “I found girly coloring books, some crayons and markers,” he said proudly. I rubbed his shoulder for a moment, because I could tell this whole hospital experience struck very close to his heart. There was something unspoken behind the depths of his eyes, but he continued smiling for my sisters’ sake. “Mr. Jackson I am so glad you’re here,” Valentina said. “And you too, Lissie.” “Gee, thanks.” Celia was quiet in her bed, but she smiled. She still wasn’t feeling well, and her face was banged up pretty badly. “Did you see mommy?” Val asked me with deep concern on her face. “Yes, but she was sleeping. She’s going to be okay though,” I explained with a smile. “The doctor said she might go home tomorrow.” “What about me? Us?” She persisted. “You might go home tomorrow, but they’re still not sure about Cee, and daddy is going to be here for a few days at least.” Valentina frowned, but that’s when Jackson took the opportunity to show off the coloring books he found in the store near the hospital. The girls were immediately distracted and Celia colored for a little while before she fell asleep again. Val talked our ears off for about thirty minutes, but quickly burned out and dozed off. It had already reached early evening hours when we finally left the hospital, and we grabbed dinner at a local diner before we returned to the hotel, thoroughly exhausted. That was our typical routine for the next three days. “Don’t you have work?” I asked on the third morning. “I’m not leaving you.” Jackson said sternly. “It’s not open for discussion.” His jaw clenched at the mere mention of it, so I dropped the topic. He was quiet, and a bit stoic at times. “Thank you for being here.” I said softly, wrapping my arms around him from behind. He took my wrists and turned to face me. I knew why he was doing this, and that’s why I didn’t feel withdrawn or guarded as the words escaped my lips. “I love you, Jax. I really love you.” Who says the girl has to wait for the guy to say those words? Something flickered in his eyes as he looked down at me, and then his beautifully handsome face broke into a grin. He cupped my face between his large hands and kissed me fiercely before lifting me off the floor, keeping his lips locked with mine in a deep kiss. His tongue slipped into my mouth as he caressed mine, before he pulled on my bottom lip. “I’ve fucking struggled with how I wanted to tell you. I wanted to make it special, and you said it so easily,” he grinned as he kept my feet off the floor.

“This is special, it means so much to me that you’re by my side through this,” I whispered softly. “I know, and just for the record… I love you, Elyse Mendez,” he whispered in response. “I’ve never said those words to a woman before…” “... Until now,” I whispered, caressing his face. “Why are we whispering?” He asked in a hushed voice, and I laughed loudly. “I’m just saying- there’s nobody else in here,” he smirked, then suddenly turned and threw me on the bed. “But now that we’ve established that, I’m going to make you scream!” I squealed and let out a fit of giggles as he climbed on top of me. His cell phone suddenly rang and he scrambled off me to grab it. The hospital called with more good news. My family was getting released tomorrow morning, including my dad. I was so elated, I didn’t know what to do with myself, but Jax immediately made arrangements for a limo to bring my family home from the hospital.



“HEY JAX! CAN I borrow your forest green?” The door to my studio suddenly flew open and Penny stood there, as she always did when she impulsively invaded my work space. The intrusion startled me and a streak of dark brown smeared across the canvas. Instead of feeling anger, I turned in shock and my palette clattered to the wooden floor. “Penny? You’re alive.” She was here, she’d never gone anywhere. I still had time to apologize. My mind was going in a thousand directions, thinking of everything I’d wished I’d said and done when I thought she was dead. She rolled her brown eyes and smiled. “Don’t be silly, Jax. I just wanted to see if you still had the forest green.” “I threw it away when I thought you died. I threw a lot of paints and tools away.” I was so confused, trying to process what was happening. She frowned as she looked up at me, and entered the room, looking around, surveying everything. “You stopped painting?” “Yes.” “Why?” “I couldn’t stand the thought…” I couldn’t finish that sentence. She suddenly crossed the room and wrapped her arms around me, and I felt the tightness of her embrace. It was genuine and warmed me. “I’m sorry, PJ. I’m so sorry for everything…” The words left my lips and she only hugged me tighter. I held her so firmly, afraid that if I let her go, she’d disappear. “I forgave you a long time ago, Jax. I don’t want you to live like this. I want you to live your life, be happy. Don’t waste what you have now.” She looked at me and I could see the light freckles on her face. “Don’t waste it.” I nodded and when I blinked, she was gone, leaving me alone in the empty studio.

I COULDN’T SLEEP after that dream. It was so similar to the recurrent dreams I’d had over the years, but this one was different. My little sister has never come to me in my dreams. I was never one to believe in supernatural shit, but I couldn’t explain how that dream came to me, unless it was my own subconscious powerfully at work. I shook my head and threw the covers back before slipping out of bed. Without even thinking about it, I found myself in Penny’s bedroom. My fingers found the light switch,

and I surveyed her forgotten belongings. The paintings she’d been working on still remained as they were left. Photos decorated the mirror, including some of me with Piper and my throat constricted as I really took the time to look closely at the memories of my sister. Despite the way I treated her, she still took the time to pin these photos to her vanity and I realized in this moment that Penny is probably one of the most forgiving souls I’ve ever known. Piper’s words flooded through me as well. “If you want a life with Elyse, you’re going to have to forgive yourself.” How the fuck can I do that? Impulsively, I dropped to my knees, overcome with grief and guilt as hot tears stung my eyes. “Forgive me…” I whispered. I was alone in this large, dark, and empty house, and yet, I didn’t feel alone. I remained knelt like this, for what felt like hours. Memories of my parents and Penny slammed through me. Finally, when my mind was weary, I pulled her diary from the top drawer and read the last entry once more. Without a second though, I retrieved a pen and wrote everything I wished I could have said. September 22, 2015 Dear Penny, I often think what life would be like if I didn’t have an art show that night and if you, mom and dad didn’t get into that car accident on your way into the city. I blame myself every day for the accident that took your lives, and I especially blame myself because I took you for granted. I was selfish, egotistical and vain. I felt threatened that at only 13 years old, your artwork was as amazing as mine, if not better. The truth is that, beneath my callous exterior, I did love you and I still do. Although I didn’t say it then, I admired your talent and your passion, but I was also jealous of it. It took a long time and a hard road for me to realize what is most important in life. You’d be 29 today, doing amazing things with your life. I like to think that if you were still here, I’d have the same relationship with you that I have with Piper. I’m going to make you a promise. I will continue the work you wanted to start when you were just thirteen, and I’m going to make it known. I’ve been hiding behind your shadow and I’ve found someone who inspires me every day to take your work to the next level. You would’ve loved her. Love always, your brother, Jax

I CLOSED MY SISTER’S diary after writing my own entry. Call it foolish (or maybe I did lose my goddamn mind) but it felt as though she was looking over my shoulder as I wrote that note in her journal. A peace and calming sense washed over me, and I felt…different. I knew that Penny would have forgiven me a long time ago, but it was my own guilt and grief that ate at me over the years. As I finished that entry, I felt whole in a way that I’d never felt before. Penny and my parents were in a better place, and in this moment, so was I. My work didn’t stop there and I wasn’t returning to bed. The house was still dark and empty, but I was busy hauling boxes from the basement. It was time to let go, and I started with all of my sister’s old toys and clothes. I knew exactly what

Penny would want me to do with her things. I was operating on caffeine and adrenaline by the time I saw Elyse the next day. She stepped out of the cab in front of my office in Midtown. It’s a smaller brick building that’s inconspicuously sandwiched between two different law firms. “What am I doing here?” She smiled as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Her eyes were alive with intrigue, but she also found this amusing. “What is this place?” “Come with me,” I took her hand and led her through the dark, polished glass doors of the building. A white marble lobby greeted us when we first entered, and a large canvas painting of my sister hung just below a fancy sign: PENNY JANE FOUNDATION. We vowed that we wouldn’t hide secrets from one another, but I didn’t want to just tell Elyse about this organization. I wanted to show her. The expression on her face was fucking priceless. I led her across the polished marble as she kept a trembling hand cupped over her mouth. “Oh my God. Oh my God.” She continued to repeat, even in the two second elevator ride to the third floor. “Jax…” She fumbled with the words as she took everything in. “It’s still a work in progress, but it’s gotten the attention of some major celebrities over the years,” I said. “This is you? It’s been you all along?” Her mouth dropped open as I led her down a hall lined with office doors. She was bewildered, looking every which way and if I wasn’t leading her by the small of her back, she probably would have walked into a wall by now. She suddenly pulled away from me and looked at me, blue eyes flaring. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I’m telling you now,” I flashed her one of my award winning grins. “I’m aware, but why didn’t you tell me a long time ago? Don’t get me wrong, I did wonder if your sister had something to do with this, but I figured maybe her name was just a coincidence.” She was literally scratching her head in thought as she looked around, face flushing wildly. She looked up at me pointedly, expecting answers. “I didn’t tell anyone, not even Mason or Jill know yet.” I responded as I pressed her against the wall in the empty hall. She opened her mouth to make some sort of argument, but closed it and contemplated quietly to herself. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? I don’t get it.” “This was my sister’s dream. If she was still alive, she would have done amazing things to help people in need. She had the passion and the heart to go above and beyond. I didn’t want her death to stop her dream from happening, so I’m doing the best I can-” “You’re doing what you can while hiding.” She argued, but there was a hint of intrigue in her eyes. “I wanted this to be about Penny, not me. I was convinced if I attached my name to this foundation, it would attract the wrong kind of attention. I’ve had the reputation of being a superficial playboy. I wanted this organization to be genuine for the right reasons.” She had a very “what the fuck” expression written all over her face, but I could tell she wasn’t angry with me. “This was her dream-” “And it’s not yours?” “It is mine. Her dream is my dream, it just took me a while to figure that out. And, I need help.” She nodded, listening to what I was saying, blinking her eyes profusely. “I can’t believe this is you. This is yours…” “Ours. I want this to be ours.” I said adamantly. “I’m in love with you, and I want to share this with you.” She swallowed as she looked up at me, and I pressed her harder against the wall.

“I love you too, so much.” She looked up at me with blue eyes that were softly illuminated from the lights on the ceiling. “I’m just trying to process this.” “I’ve come to realize a lot recently and I need your experience, passion and drive, Elyse. Plus, you’re also one of the only people who doesn’t get hung up on the fact that I’m Jackson Rochester.” She snorted out a laugh. “Sorry.” She mused. I gave her a half smile. “See, that’s what I’m talking about.” I pulled away and took her hand. “I want to show you something.” Our fingers laced together and I brought her down the hall, until we came to a mahogany door. I opened it and showed her the view. A large glass window was adjacent to an electric fireplace, and a polished, dark glass desk was situated on the opposite side of the wall. The office was still sparse, but that’s because it hadn’t been used yet. “I’m having it decorated, but you can design it however you like.” “I’m not an interior designer…wait, what?” She sputtered. “Elyse Mendez, will you be my Community Development Coordinator?” I asked with an impish grin on my face, and she let out a laugh. “What is a community development coordinator?” “It is someone who understands the demographic she’s working with, someone who can relate to the people and develop reasonable plans and strategies to engage families in need. Penny had a heart for homeless youth, but I know she’d want to extend it beyond just homeless youth. You know what it's like to have it rough, you can relate to these people and you’ll be able to strategize outreach programs. You’ll have to report to me, and work alongside my spokesperson, Jeremy Waters. I also have a small board that you’ll be meeting with. I just have two conditions.” “What are they?” My mouth was so close to hers, I could just kiss her if I moved ever so slightly. “One, you need to finish your degree. That’s a legit qualification for the position. Two, I want you to move in with me.” “Is that another legit qualification for the job?” She smirked. “For you, yes.” I growled. “I have my own personal criteria for you, Peach.” I tugged on her ear with my teeth as my fingers brushed along her collarbone. “Fuck, Jax. Would we actually get any work done if I worked for you?” She gave a soft, breathy response as I kissed and nipped at the sweet spot behind her ear. “Mm. You wouldn’t work for me. You’d work with me. There’s a difference. I’ll still have to spend most of my time between my other businesses. That’s mainly what keeps this foundation afloat and gives centers like East Village the funding they need…but I could definitely take a fuck break during the day to bend you over this desk, or press you against this window.” She melted under my touch, pliable, as I whispered dirty business talk in her ear. “Jesus, Jax…” She moaned. “I can’t believe it was you the whole time,” her voice was strained as I moved my hand up her bare thigh. Fuck yes, she’s wearing a skirt… “When I wrote to your company years ago, I got a rejection letter, but the Penny Jane Foundation came out of nowhere and took interest in us. That was you? And when Jeremy Waters called Doris and requested that I give the speech at the benefit…that was you, wasn’t it?” “The one and only.” I hitched her skirt up and was delighted to find that she was soaked through her panties. “Now, do you accept my offer?” She closed her eyes as her face flushed crimson. I pushed her panties to the side and circled my thumb around her clit. “Lissie…” I prompted, and she let out a moan as she careened into me. I held her up with one hand as I fucked her with my fingers.

“How can I think when you’re doing that to me?” She gave a gaspy protest, and suddenly grabbed my cock through my pants. “Do you still want to talk business now?” I sucked in a deep breath, and then growled as she began rubbing me vigorously. “Jax?” She prompted in a weak taunt, now rubbing the underside of my cock. She looked up at me with glazed eyes, but there was a fire in them for sure. That’s it. I grabbed her furiously and whirled her around, slamming her front against the desk. Her cotton skirt fell over her lower back, exposing her delicious round ass. I couldn’t free my cock fast enough. But first thing’s first… My hand flew down on her backside and she let out a whimper as my fist wrapped around her wrists, pinning them behind her back in one swift move. “You’re such a naughty little minx, defying me like that. Do you know what happens to defiant girls who disobey?” I growled in her ear. She responded by wiggling her ass against my cock and she bit her lower lip as she cast a look at me over her shoulder. Goddamn… I left another handprint on her other cheek. “You need a good fucking, don’t you, Peach?” I had that voice out, and she stopped wiggling against me. Her breathing paused. “You need to feel my cock buried deep inside, claiming every inch of your tight, wet little cunt, don’t you?” I tugged on her hair to emphasize that I wanted the question answered, and then smacked her ass in one firm strike. “Yes… yes, Sir. Please, Sir.” “But would that be a punishment or a reward, if I pound you deeply from behind, stretching you out?” I fisted her hair as I kept my other hand wrapped around her wrists, keeping her bound over the desk. “Maybe you should punish me with your cock, Sir.” She breathed, using my own line against me. “So be it.” I pulled my cock out and rubbed it along her slick channel. “Will anyone see us? Hear us?” “I don’t give a damn.” I grunted and then pushed into her so deeply, she cried out from the penetration. “We’re going to christen this desk.” Her pussy clenched around my cock as I thrust into her deeply, pounding her sweet spot with such force. My balls slapped against her ass as I claimed what’s mine, over and over again. My hand reached around and circled her clit in even, smooth strokes and it didn’t take long for her to fall over the edge. A tear fell down her face as her body trembled from the powerful orgasm. “That’s my sweet girl,” I whispered roughly, bent over her, pressing her into the desk. I suddenly pulled out and grabbed her shoulders, plastering her against the glass window of her third floor office window. Cars honked, people walked by on the busy street below and she gasped when she looked down. My hands were on her hips, controlling her angle and without another word, I slammed into her again. Her slick channel welcomed me, greedy for more. “Holy f--!” She didn’t even finish that sentence, overcome with pleasure from the ecstasy I was giving her. “Does it thrill you, gorgeous? Knowing that anybody can look up, and watch how I claim what’s MINE?” I nipped her ear, tugging on the soft flesh, and breathed in the fresh scent of her peach lotion as my cock hit that sweet spot deep inside, over and over again. My tempo picked up, feeling my own climax build. I pommeled her, feeling her entire body shake

against the ledge of the window. My fingers dug into the flesh of her ass as she took every inch and squeezed around it, sending sparks of pleasure up my spine with every thrust. Even as I was balls deep in her sweet pussy, it wasn’t enough. I needed more, but I couldn’t hold my orgasm back any longer and I gave in, spilling into her. Our breathing was heavy, her face still pressed against the window, and mine pressed against her back. I’d be taking her again that night; there was no fucking doubt about that. “Do I have an answer?” I finally mustered the question, still breathing deeply. “Yes… yes…” She answered, breathlessly. “Of course it’s yes.” She said it like I shouldn't even have to ask. I gave her another hard spank and then pulled back before situating her skirt over her beautiful ass. “But, I don’t graduate until May…” she barely got the words out, still reeling from that intense orgasm. “I’ll wait,” I kissed the back of her neck, then her nose and brought her to her feet before I kissed those gorgeous lips. “I’ll wait for you.”



“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY love.” I looked up as I finished pulling on my purple jacket, and saw Jackson standing in the doorway to the rec room at the community center. He held a bouquet of yellow and white daisies and wore a huge, pantymelting grin. He was cleanly shaven and sported a stylish, thin gray sweater that very easily showed off the defined contours of his chest and abs. Seeing him standing there, in dark wash denim, I nearly forgot he was holding a bouquet of my favorite flowers. He’s been coming around the youth center a lot lately, shooting hoops with the kids or giving advice about college and homework. It turns out he’s really good at math (thank God, because I recruited him for much-needed algebra and pre-calculus help). I’d been offered a job as program assistant for Doris, and I was more than happy to quit my twenty hours per week at the coffee house. This new job has helped me learn so much, preparing me for the office that still waits for me at the Penny Jane Foundation. After I started working as program assistant, Jackson showed up one day, not sure what to do with himself or with the kids. He warmed their hearts with snacks from the bakery and before I knew it, the kids were asking about him every day. “Jax! Yo Jax!” Some of the boys threw a basketball his way, and it bounced off the wall. “You expect me to catch that when I’m holding flowers for my girl?” He smirked at the kids. “Aw man. You gonna score tonight!” They teased, dribbling the basketball in the middle of the wreck room. “A real man doesn’t kiss and tell. You know what I’m saying?” Jax grinned. “Oooh,” some of the kids teased, and began puckering their lips to making kissing noises. “Hey now,” Jackson grinned at our audience. “Behave, or that’s going back where it came from. And get that ball out of here before you break something.” He motioned toward the gaming tables and arcade games that recently decorated our once-empty rec room. “Please, Mr. Jackson. You wouldn’t dare. You like those games more than we do!” Yvette, one of our older youth teased back. He only grinned and slipped his hand around my waist, before he turned back to the kids. “Just keep those grades up.” The kids continued teasing, making puckering noises, even after I followed him out of the room. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you until tomorrow.” I couldn’t help my beaming smile. “It’s your birthday. I couldn’t contain myself.” He gifted me with a boyish grin. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” I shrugged. “I’m watching the girls for a few hours so my dad and Sarah can get some errands done.” Jackson arched a brow. “On your birthday?”

“I think they forgot…” I frowned. “Anyway, it’s no big deal. Birthdays are not my thing. They never were. Jill always makes a huge deal out of it, but it’s not my style. Besides, the four of us are celebrating tomorrow night, right?” Jax and I had already planned a double date with Jill and Mason for my birthday. “I think we’re going to have to change that tradition,” he said between kisses, once I checked out for the day, then he pulled my hand and led me out of the building. It was a mild day in November and I saw a black town car parked in front of the youth center. “Where are we going?” I was bewildered, and immensely intrigued. Excitement coursed through my veins at the possibilities he could have planned for us. I didn’t expect him to surprise me at the youth center that afternoon because he said he had some work to get done, but would see me later in the evening to celebrate. “When do you have to watch your sisters?” He asked casually as he held the car door open for me. “Now, actually. I promised I would take them on the carousel today,” I laughed lightly as I slid into the backseat. “That damn carousel. I should just have one installed in my yard.” He gave another smirk, and it was enough to make me clench my thighs and bite my lower lip. “Please don’t.” He didn’t say anything, but that smirk remained on his perfect mouth as the car took us into Harlem. He pulled to a stop in front of my dad’s small brick rowhouse and Jackson followed close behind. I wasn’t expecting him to be here, to officially meet my dad and Sarah face-to-face. I knocked on the door, before I remembered that my dad had given me a set of keys a few days earlier. As I pulled the keyring from my bag, the door flung open. “Lissie!” Celia exclaimed. Her black curls bounced, and she wore a pretty pink bow in her hair that matched her pink polka-dot dress. She looked so healthy now, and all signs of the car accident were gone. “Shh! Cee, you ruined it!” Valentina hissed. “What’s going on?” I asked suspiciously as I entered the house with Jackson in tow. The tiny hall was quiet, and although I heard Val’s voice, I didn’t see her anywhere. Things were awkward and silent for the next two seconds, and then all of a sudden… “SURPRISE!” My dad, Sarah, and Valentina stepped away from the kitchen- along with a bunch of other people I never met before. I pressed a hand to my chest, thoroughly startled. Jesus, I wasn’t expecting that. “Happy Birthday, angel.” My dad wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in for a very tight embrace. I was still reeling from this surprise. This was the absolute last thing I ever expected, and I was overcome. Tears welled in my eyes and I tried to swallow them down as I looked around at the familiar and unfamiliar faces all beaming at me. “Dad?” I asked, choking as I spoke. “What is this? I thought I was watching the girls today?” “That was just a way to get you over here without suspecting anything,” He waved his hand dismissively. His face creased as he smiled, making the scar where his stitches had been much more prominent. He was doing so much better these days, although he still had to take it easy due to his ribs. “Wow… just, wow…” I smiled and quickly brushed away a stray tear that rolled down my cheek. Family friends and neighbors had gathered for my birthday and it was overwhelming to have so many people surround me at once. An older woman with silver streaks in her hair approached my dad from behind and cupped my face in her hands. “Mírala, ella es tan hermosa!” “Elyse, this is your grandmother. She came from San Juan to see you. She says you’re very beautiful.” My dad introduced. My heart did a double leap as I looked at this woman, and I could see just from

looking at her. She is my grandmother. I never imagined I’d have the opportunity to meet my dad’s mother. The older woman kept my face cupped between her tiny olive hands and shook my face like I was nothing more than a toddler. “Ella se parece a mi madre. Mira sus ojos, mi hermosa nieta, mi hermosa nieta.” I was lost, wishing I knew the language so I could communicate on a better level. Even in this happy occasion, I was feeling some frustration because I couldn’t even talk to my own grandmother without needing a translator. “She says you look just like her mother. She says, ‘look at her eyes, my beautiful granddaughter.’” My dad explained with adoration in his eyes. The woman kept my face cupped in her hands, and then pulled me down to her level and kissed both my cheeks with such love. “Thank you. Um. Muchas Gracias, Abuela. It’s nice to meet you too.” My dad chuckled and then spoke to the woman, translating the tiny bit I said in English. She chuckled, then turned and started yelling something to a few kids who were in the kitchen. I assumed they were my cousins and she was scolding them for trying to put their fingers in the cake that sat on the small kitchen table. I turned to Jackson and raised my eyebrows. “Are you behind all this?” “No, this was your dad’s idea-” “And mine, but I did call him to tell him the time and place. He offered to help, but we wanted to do this, ” Sarah chimed in, and immediately wrapped her arms around me. “Happy Birthday, Ly. I hope you were surprised!” I looked around quickly, counting about ten faces I hadn’t met before today and I turned back to Sarah. “We’ve been planning this party for months. We wanted a family get-together for you. I wish we could’ve invited everyone, but this house can only fit so many,” she smiled. I opened my mouth to speak, overwhelmed, but was interrupted by my sisters. “Come on Lissie! Look at all the food! We helped cook yesterday!” Celia and Valentina pulled my hands, leading me away from Sarah and into the kitchen. It was so cramped with all these people in the small house, enough to make someone claustrophobic. Once upon a time, I would have felt suffocated if I was surrounded by so many strangers at once, but not today. I felt overwhelmed, but in a very good way. “Look! We made enchiladas!” Cee pointed out. “Does Mr. Jackson like enchiladas? And we have arroz con pollo y frijoles.” She pointed to a tray that had roasted chicken with rice and another tray that had rice with black beans. My sisters were talking a million miles a minute, not giving me any room to respond. Jackson leaned against the doorway in a casual way, not seeming disturbed by the amount of people in this small setting. A few people approached him and he grinned and conversed with them. Then my dad approached him, and I watched as they officially shook hands. I couldn’t hear above the noise what they were saying to each other, but I could tell by their smiles that the chat was friendly. I wished I could eavesdrop over the noise of the music and animated talking, but it was pointless. Celia and Valentina never left my side the entire time, and after we all ate, the cake was served and everyone sang Happy Birthday to me. I’ve never had this many people sing to me at once before, and a part of me wanted to duck out and hide. It was strange, but amazing. As everyone gathered around me, I realized something: my life couldn’t feel any more complete. My sisters were beside me, happy and healthy. My dad was beside me and my stepmom had warmed to me. I had (still have) the best boyfriend in the world. “Make a wish, Elyse!” My dad kissed my cheek. What could I possibly wish for? I had everything I need. My heart was so full, but just before it was time to blow out the candles, a wish came to my mind and I thought quietly to myself.



“ARE YOU READY for your gift?” Jackson’s warm breath was against the nape of my neck as he nuzzled that spot behind my ear. His fingers were tender as they curled in my hair, possessive yet protective. We hadn’t even made it through the front door to his New Rochelle estate. We were still on the cobbled drive, just by the lanterns that glowed above us. “I don’t need anything else,” I turned and kissed him deeply, sucking on his lower lip as I pulled on it. His hands caressed my sides, trailing up and down my hips as he pulled my body against his. The rock hard bulge within the tent of his pants hurt as it pressed against my stomach. He was ready, and the growing uncontrollable hunger within him was stirring. “There is one last thing,” he said, his voice growing with authority. My scalp tingled as he pulled a little rougher. I waited with baited breath for what he was about to say. “Tonight, I’m going to officially make you mine.” He brought me into the immaculate entrance to the house, and the light flipped on. “Go into the bedroom, kneel before the bed in the position I taught you, and wait for me.” He immediately left my side and disappeared into another room, leaving me to obey his simple instruction. My entire body was humming with desire and anticipation, a delicious combination. The thrum of my heart and the growing ache between my thighs was pleasure in its own right, but my imagination was alive as I wondered about his plans for me tonight. Tonight I’m going to officially make you mine. Every time those words ran through my mind, it sent a rush of tingles straight to my pussy. I entered the bedroom and left the door wide open before I crossed the soft carpet and knelt on my knees before the foot of the bed. I clasped my hands behind my back and kept my gaze on the carpet as I waited impatiently for him to arrive. I tried to remain still, as he’s instructed in the past, but my thighs clenched every time I thought of his sinful promises. Finally, I heard the sturdy footsteps of his polished leather shoes pad across the carpet. He stopped just behind me, but I remained quiet and still, and I felt the tender, possessive caress as his fingers brushed the nape of my neck down to my shoulders. He repeated this gesture for a few minutes, silently adoring me as I remained in place. I nearly broke my gaze from the carpet as he sat in front of me on the edge of the large four-post bed. Then his thumb and forefinger took my chin and lifted my gaze to his. “Look at me, gorgeous.” My eyes zeroed in on his and I saw the devotion and the love written so clearly on his face. I could only smile, wanting so much to give him everything. As I remained kneeling, he produced a flat, square box. There was no fancy ribbon or bows attached, but I could tell by the gold lettering etched in calligraphy on the white package that it had to be something expensive. I watched as he unopened the box and pulled a silver piece of jewelry from the bed of plush velvet. It was the most intriguing piece I’d ever seen, and I noticed there was a tiny lock clasped on the back. He showed it to me and I admired its beauty. “This is a collar of ownership,” he explained, and my heart swelled as he spoke. I wanted nothing more than to be his. “Once I place this around your neck, you will be mine. Permanently. I love you, Elyse and this is something I haven’t taken lightly.” I gazed up at him as he spoke. There was no usual smirk, no dirty talk. He was very serious as he told me how much I meant to him, how he’s never owned another submissive before, and that I would never be

just a ‘submissive’ to him. This collar represents a connection, a bond between us, and it’s something that will remain unbreakable. “You’ve given everything to me,” he said as he clasped the collar around my neck. It fit perfectly like a stylish platinum necklace, just above my collarbone. There was a small, platinum heart at the base with tiny glittering diamonds. “I love you, so much J- Sir,” I said, feeling breathless from this small, surprise ceremony. He grinned his typical charming grin, and then pulled me onto his lap. “I fucking love you, my sweet Elyse. My Peach.” Our lips locked and the connection between us was so strong, it was like a crackling energy, pulling us even closer like a magnetic force. He brushed my black tresses from my face, and I raked my hands through his hair, savoring the feel of his tongue against mine. This is what it feels to completely, thoroughly devote and give myself to the man I’m so in love with. Happy Birthday to me. Here’s to the rest of our journey...

“I love it when we’re cruisin’ together…” SHE WAS ALL THE way down the hall, but I still heard her belt out the lyrics to some song by Smokey Robinson. She managed to find an old record player in the basement while she helped me clean out some old rooms and fill packing boxes. The task was menial and would have been more heartbreaking if she wasn’t there. Instead, she’s been playing old albums on repeat as she tapes boxes that will get donated to shelters and small organizations. Elyse insisted on helping me box up the items, and has been singing at the top of her lungs while she works. She still doesn’t like to sing in front of others, but she’s singing all the time just for me. My cock gets hard as a rock whenever I hear that angelic voice. She appeared behind me suddenly and I felt those silky arms wrap around me as I stood in front of the easel by the window that faced the northeast gardens. “I’m so in love with you…” she sang along to Al Green as she caressed the back of my neck softly, her warm breath on my arm, and I could only imagine the impish grin on her face. I made one final stroke of light blue on the canvas and turned to look at her. “You know what your singing does to me,” I growled as I held her tightly. I pulled her close, carelessly letting the palette fall to the tray beside us. The spark was in her eyes as she looked up at me and I watched her glance from my latest project, then back to me. “When are you going to paint me?” She gave another teasing smile as her fingers trailed from my chest down to my stomach. I could only smirk. I’ve tried to paint her twice. It ended in my fucking her until she was breathless, gasping for air on the floor of my studio. I even managed to get splatters of paint in her hair. Twice. Watching her pose on my beige upholstered sofa against the backdrop of a blue sky that matched her eyes, staring at me with full, pouty lips and a come-hither expression on her face demolished my restraint. I have the self-control of a seventeen year old boy around this woman. I looked down at her, admiring the way my collar fit so beautifully around her neck, my own discreet mark of ownership. It symbolizes our own vow of love and devotion, and I enjoy admiring it on her neck every time I see her. Without another word, she reached up on her toes and pulled me down to her level, locking lips in a hungry, uninhibited way. This is my Elyse, completely candid, relaxed and unrestricted. I grabbed her and pinned her against the wall, grinding my hips against her so she could feel the hard length restrained in my denim. She moaned against my neck as I breathed in the sweet scent of her skin. “Jax…” she moaned softly, writhing against my movements. Her delicate fingers raked through my hair, as I kept her sandwiched between the wall and my hard body. Her lips were warm and soft and we were lost in the heat of the moment as she trailed her fingers from my scalp, down to the black ink etched in my right bicep. The sweet taste of her tongue, the way it conforms to the command of my mouth, is forever committed to memory, but I still can’t get enough. My hands locked around the globes of her ass and I hoisted her farther up the wall, feeling the allconsuming hunger take over. My weight held her, giving my hands freedom to roam along the curves of her

body. Possessively I raked my hands along her thighs and hips, hiking the skirt of her white cotton dress up to her waist. I could tell by her slightly parted mouth, heightened breathing and clenched thighs, she was so wet and ready. That little pussy needed my cock. I ground my hips against her pubic bone and her eyes fluttered to a close as her hands gripped the skin on my back. “Jax…” her voice was a whiny moan. “What do you need, baby?” I asked, in my dominant tone, commanding her to answer. “You. Please, just you.” Her fingers scraped along the skin at the back of my neck as I thrust against her, taunting her deliberately. “Is that all? Tell me exactly what you want, Peach.” I bit her ear and tugged lightly on the flesh. Her response to this was grinding her body against mine as roughly as she could manage. I didn’t think I could get any harder, with her thighs wrapped around my waist, and she had to add a bit of her own sass…. I was dangling over the edge, barely able to maintain my composure. “What do you want?” I urged, struggling to mask the strain in my throat. “I want… I want you to fuck me. I want to feel your cock deep inside,” she whimpered, dipping her head so that her face rested against my shoulder. My fingers skimmed along the lining of her satin thong, and she let out a whimpering gasp when I began rubbing the lips of her pussy through the very damp fabric. “Is that so?” I whispered against her neck as I continued massaging and rubbing in a circular motion, feeling how the fabric went from damp to soaked in a matter of minutes. “You need my cock? Right here?” I flicked her clit through the wet satin and felt her pussy clench against my fingers. She let out a strained groan of frustration, and it only fueled my fire. With her weight pinned exactly where I wanted her, I gripped the satin and stared into her glazed eyes as the fabric fell to to the floor in shreds. “Stay put.” I felt the guttural growl in my voice as I unfastened the denim around my waist. I couldn’t pull my cock out fast enough. I was so hard, throbbing, aching for her. Her body continued writhing against my cock, and I sucked in a sharp breath, as her slick pussy rubbed against the head. “Hold still,” I commanded. She obeyed and was immediately rewarded as I slammed into her. I held her firmly by the cheeks of her ass, rocking her into the wall as I fucked her good and hard. My hand curled around the lock of her collar and forced her gaze on mine as I took her this way. Her lips were parted as she breathed heavily, and blue eyes were glazed over with lust and pleasure; it’s a look I’ll never tire seeing on her face. “Mmm…Jax…” she moaned, fluttering her eyelids to a close. “That’s it, baby. Take it all.” I pumped into her, both of us reveling in the way our bodies connected. She suddenly tightened and flexed around my cock as an orgasm washed over her body; her fingers dug into the skin of my back as she cried out my name. That’s my beautiful girl. I never let up amidst her orgasm, feeling the way her walls squeezed me only brought me to the edge that much sooner. With a few more powerful thrusts, I grasped her entire body and let out a low, feral growl as I released deep within her. We stayed like this for several minutes after, connected like this, kissing deeply. “I love you, Jax.” She whispered just as she pulled her lips away from mine. I was still a heaving, breathless mess that kept her body pressed tightly against the wall of my studio. I pulled some strands of black hair away from her damp, flushed face and kissed her again. “I love you too, Peach.” My submissive. My love. My future. The distant echo of closing car doors broke our moment and that’s when we suddenly looked at one another with alarm in our eyes. Scrambling, we rushed to dress ourselves, retrieving strewn articles of

clothing, and throwing our clothes back on. “Mr. Jackson!” Celia’s bright voice echoed from the foyer as we eventually descended the steps. She ran with open arms and hugged my neck as I swung her around. My sister greeted us with a rueful smile. “I don’t even want to know why it took you so long to come downstairs. Did you forget we were coming over today?” For a moment, I did. I’d sent a town car to bring the three of them to my estate for the weekend. I noted the traces of crimson flush that was still on Elyse’s cheeks. Valentina ran over to her and hugged her tightly, then begged me to spin her around as well and since I’m not one to turn down the request of a cute kid, I picked her up and spun her around, too. Things aren’t the way they used to be. The house is never empty these days. The girls visit two weekends every month, and Piper is always pestering me with her presence lately. Okay, okay. I love her visits, too. I was anxious because there was a specific reason I invited them over for the weekend and I brought them out to the back gardens. Even Elyse had no idea; she doesn’t frequent the back gardens since she’s frequently on her back in various rooms instead. I just wanted to see the look on their faces when they saw the surprise I had planned. As we stepped onto the smooth cobbled terrace overlooking the gardens, Celia and Valentina gasped and squealed. Elyse’s eyes widened as the girls ran down the stone steps, toward the play structure I had built. It was about the size of a community playground, complete with wood chips and a clubhouse. “You didn’t.” She whispered, staring in awe. “Oh I did.” I grinned. “Tell me this isn’t better than the Central Park carousel.” “This is too much.” She tried to argue, but she was too breathless. “You really outdid yourself. It almost looks like you’re trying too hard,” Piper teased, but left me with Elyse on the terrace when she joined Celia and Valentina on the swing set. She wrapped her arms around me as she watched her sisters explore the new slide and swingset. “I just have one question.” She finally said as she looked up at me with a wry smile. “And what’s that?” “What are you going to do with this once Cee and Val outgrow it?” She gave a teasing smirk. “Well, I was thinking we could save it for our kids someday.” Elyse looked up at me, her blue eyes sparkling with intrigue and light. “Kids? You want kids with me?” I flashed her one of my charming grins. “Someday.” I pulled her close, loving the way her arms fit around my body. I inclined my head to whisper in her ear, “In the meantime, I enjoy having you all to myself.” I kissed her forehead. “And in the meantime, I can get set up in the new office…oh, and you still owe me a trip to California. You promised.” She gave me a cheeky grin. I laughed. “Oh believe me, it’s happening. I have so much more planned for you, Peach.” THE END

Go back to the beginning with Mason and Jillian in The Manhattan Tales trilogy. Book 1: HIS PAWN Meet Mason Woodward. He's handsome, wealthy, has a filthy mind, and knows how to get what he wants. He used to know how to care for others... until he found his best friend, Travis Pryor, in bed with the woman he intended to marry. Now, Mason has a plan for payback that involves Jillian, the younger sister of Travis. He'll hook and reel her in. "If Travis can take the love of my life, then I'll take his little sister." The plan was solid, until she got under his skin and began to challenge everything he was thinking. BOOK 2: QUEEN IN PLAY Jillian Pryor has learned a thing or two since she was swept away by the handsome Mason Woodward. For years, she had him on a high pedestal… until she learned the dirty truth about his plans for her. Two months later, Mason is still determined to have her, but Jillian isn't about to give in that easily. The problem is, Jill hasn't been able to get him off her mind either. Still, there’s more at stake than past transgressions and painful secrets. Mason will have to make a choice that Jill knows nothing about... BOOK 3: End Game Their story began with his plan for revenge. British Billionaire, Mason Woodward, thought he had a flawless plan for revenge, until he fell in love with Jillian Pryor, the woman he planned to use in his scheme. The plan seemed simple. I'd use her every which way, and then send her back to her brother with a clear message: You had your fun, and I had mine. Little did I know that I'd fall for her... When she discovered his secrets, the tables turned. For the first time in years, she was the only person to stand up to him. He has no hold on me now... I can play my own game of payback. Now, the games are over, but their story continues. Secrets will be revealed and hardship will be faced. This is the third, concluding book surrounding Mason and Jillian. Thank you for reading! Find me on Facebook for contests and upcoming releases www.facebook.com/AuthorWillaThorne Twitter: @WillaThorne